The footsteps quickened. Grim ran, his feet sliding.
Until finally he came upon a door. On it was a metal emblem of a girl with emerald wings.
He yanked on it, and it opened.
Then a large, meaty hand reached out and tugged Grimwald Doyle inside.
The hand that had grabbed Grim placed him down and the door slammed shut behind him. It belonged to a Troll and his hand and arm was as thick as the rest of him.
“What’s a human boy doing in these parts?” he asked. His voice was low.
Grim stuttered, looking up at the size of the creature. His head nearly touched the ceiling.
“I’m looking for the Green Fairy,” he replied.
There was some faint chuckling among the crowd. Grim looked around the dimly lit place. It was a pub with a smattering of characters: Pixies, Sylphs, Kobolds, and Trolls. They all had sinth parts to them. Then Grim put on his goggles.
The room was packed with the Unseen: Sprights, Dryads, Mewts in addition to the others.
They all turned back to whatever they had been doing and a low hum of chatter and activity filled the place.
“Well, you found it,” the Troll said. “Bit young for a pint, aren’t ya? And a little bit too human for this place, if you know what I mean.”
Grim shrugged. “I’m looking for Arabus.”
“Hmm,” said the Troll. “You’re not likely to find him here.”
Grim sighed. He was getting desperate. How was he going to save the others?
“But I was told I could find him at the Green Fairy.”
“Like I said, boy, you won’t find him here, but I think if you talk to that Spright over there, she might be able to help. Her name is Mistra and she knows a little about whom you seek.”
Grim looked to the Troll’s pointing finger. It aimed towards a woman whose presence shimmered in the distance. She hovered over the floor, much like Madam Phoebe, except Mistra didn’t seem to have any sinth parts.
“Thanks,” Grim said and walked in her direction.
He slipped through the crowds, worming his way through the Unseen. Some shoved him as he walked through and muttered something about human garbage.
The Spright sat down at a table and motioned for Grim to join her. She’d been watching him approach.
“Good evening,” she said. Her voice was soft and musical. “I saw Gorg pointing you towards me. How may I be of service?”
“I need to find Arabus,” he said.
She chuckled. “Well you won’t find him here.”
“Why not?” he asked. “I was told to come here.”
“Who told you to come here?” she asked.
“Not who. What. It was this,” he said, holding up the figurine.
She snatched the device and hid it below the table, checking to make sure no one had seen it.
She leaned closer and whispered. “Does anyone know you are here?”
“My friend Quinn, and probably my sister and Aunt Patrice by now,” he replied.
At the mention of his Aunt’s name the Spright’s eyes widened. The folks at the table beside him suddenly silenced.
Her lips pressed right up against his ear. “Patrice is alive?” she asked.
Grim nodded. “You know her?”
“Patrice is a common enough human name, but a Patrice that is connected with this device is rare. Do not play tricks with me boy.”
Grim shook his head. “I’m not.”
“I suggest you come with me.” Her body suddenly took on a different presence. She solidified and her hand grabbed Grim firmly and yanked him towards a staircase that wound upwards. A number of eyes followed them with some muttering and whispers.
She pulled him into a little room. Mistra made him sit while she hovered.
“Where is Patrice?” she asked. Her voice was not so musical or soft any more.
Grim gulped. “Madam Malkim’s.”
“What is she doing there?”
He shook his head. “She’s watching over us while our dads are looking for help.”
“Dads?” she said. She held up two long, delicate fingers. “As in two dads?”
He held up the pocket watch and showed it to her.
“Great Gormella’s Theurge! You’re one of the true heirs to Harland Manor!”
Grim nodded.
“And you said Patrice is ill? What is it?”
“The Scourge.”
She paced. “How can Arabus help you?”
“I need Jinn blood. Apparently he knows how to help me find a Jinn,” Grim said.
The Spright chuckled. “Of course he knows where to find one, he is a Jinn.”
“A Jinn?” Grim swallowed. “Is he one of the ones that’s been seen in town?”
Mister fisted her hands on her hips. “We’ve heard those rumors too.”
“But Jinn blood was found at Madam Malkim’s.”
“That’s not good, that means the Darksworn are here. You need to take extra care.”
“So where do I find Arabus?”
“No one has seen him in years. Not since the last of the Mystics disappeared. He has to be summoned. And if you have this device that must mean ...”
“I can summon him with this?” Grim asked.
Mistra cocked her head. “You mean you don’t know?”
Grim shook his head. “What?”
“Do you see the symbol underneath?”
Grim nodded.
“It is the Mystic’s Insignia. This device is useless except in the hands of a Mystic or the Darksworn. Where did you get this?”
“It’s my Poppa’s.”
“Did you take it from him?”
“No, he gave it to me.”
“Well, if your Poppa gave this to you freely then he knew what you were capable of.”
Grim felt dumbfounded. Did that mean he could summon?
The Spright sighed. “I don’t know how you’re going to do this. I’m not a Mystic. The only ones who know this art now are the Darksworn, and you don’t want to get caught up with that lot. The only thing I can tell you is that you need to find the Mystic’s Circle. Since the decline of magic, almost no one can summon outside of the Mystic’s Circle. I suspect you’re going to need that little device too.”
Grim nodded. “Where is it?”
“There is a little village called Pefferlaw, west of here. Go south of there about an hour’s ride. In the woods, in the shadow of the Tower of Celest, you will find a circle of trees that do not look like the others. Within lies the Mystic’s Circle.”
“I need to get moving,” he said.
She stopped him. “You can’t go downstairs. I saw others watching you after you mentioned Patrice’s name. She has enemies, even among the Unseen, as I imagine you will too. You need to leave through the window,” she said, pointing.
Grim got up and opened it. He looked down. The ledges were wide enough to walk on comfortably. It led to the building next door from which he could use the grappling hook to lower himself to the ground.
“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t know how to repay you.”
The Spright waved him off. “Just take care of yourself and cure Patrice. I will let others know that she still lives. And one other thing: don’t go alone.”
Grim nodded. He’d have to find a way to take Rudy and Quinn.
Grim leapt across the ledges, and with his grappling hook rappelled down the building with ease. He walked in the shadows of the streets, staying away from the alleys. Still the town was quiet and there were no sounds of anyone, or anything, following him. With light steps he treaded along the cobbled roads and stopped in front of the orphanage. He heard whisperings at the side of the building and wondered who would be there at a time like this.
Both voices were low, but one was coughing, like she was about to lose her lungs.
Grim tiptoed up to the side of the building and peered around the corner.
It was Aunt Patrice. She looked deathly ill. She was talking to Dorian.
&nbs
p; What’s he doing loose?
“Aunt Patrice!” Grim called. “What you are you doing?”
She gave Grim a scolding look, one Grim knew all too well.
“Grimwald Doyle, what in Gormella’s Theurge do you think you’re doing?”
He blurted out the truth. “Trying to find a cure of the Scourge,” he said.
His Aunt scrutinized him with her one eye. “The Scourge?” She paused. “That’s what Rudolpha said. Are you sure?”
He nodded. “We found it in a book.”
She assessed him again. “Who do you think was responsible for this?”
Grim lowered his head. “Eevenellin or Festrel.”
The old woman pressed her lips together and Grim knew that look.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
“I have said no such thing,” his Aunt retorted, “but I do find it questionable. Are you certain of this, child?”
Grim looked his Aunt straight in the eyes and nodded. “Absolutely.”
“And the cure?”
“Jinn’s blood.”
She rolled up Grim’s sleeves, looking at his skin. “Do you have the figurine that your Poppa gave you?”
He nodded.
“And have you been to the Green Fairy? Did you find Arabus?”
“No. I have to find the Mystic’s Circle.”
“I expected as much. He’s not been seen in a very long time, but it was the best place to look when all else fails.”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “How do you know about Arabus and the Green Fairy?”
“There isn’t time for that now. I wish I had time to tell you things you need to know, but that will have to wait until you return.” She studied his face. “I cannot allow you to leave unescorted. Dorian, you know what to do. I leave Grim’s life in your hands. See that he returns safely and I will tell everyone that you have escaped.”
The Gargoyle nodded. Grim said nothing but looked at his Aunt with pleading eyes. How could he tell her Dorian might be in on the plague with him standing right there. He might turn them both to stone.
Aunt Patrice sighed. “Child, be careful. And trust Dorian ― he knows more than you might think. Do you know where you’re going?”
Grim nodded. “Near a town called Pefferlaw.”
She shook her head. “Too far. There is another Mystic’s Circle, an unknown one here in the City of Harkness. Or perhaps not so unknown since it seems the Darksworn have been summoning within the city. There is an old city park, lost to time and the city buildings that have grown over top of it. Take the sewers. It will not be easy to find, but Dorian has a good sense of things. Good luck, dear. And hurry.” She looked at her own skin. It was coated in brown splotches. “I would accompany you myself, but my own health will not allow me to take such a journey. This plague has rendered me almost useless. Dorian knows the sewers and the underground well enough to help you.”
Dorian stood behind Grim and waited in silence, breathing heavily. Then they made their way in stealth through the city streets and descended into the underground.
Grim gulped down the knots in his throat.
What was he going to do with Dorian?
“Follow me and keep up,” he growled.
Then Dorian marched forward with Grim on his heels.
As Grim walked behind Dorian, he wondered whether the Gargoyle’s allegiances lie with the forces of darkness or not. Many things crossed his mind.
Should he double back to Madam Malkim’s? Should he bolt and run to the closest building? Should he scream blindly for help through the sewers, flailing his arms about like a village idiot?
Grim slowed as he fingered the pocket watch. He wished his dads were there.
Dorian waited. “I didn’t do it,” he muttered, sidestepping a rat that flowed out of one of the pipes.
Grim was unsure of whether to believe him or not. “Then who did?”
The Gargoyle shook his head. “I don’t know. And if I find out who did this to Valeria, I will turn them to stone myself.” His voice seethed with anger.
“I guess you’re relieved to be free,” Grim muttered.
Dorian hung his head. “Sort of, but not much is worth living for without Valeria.”
“Huh?”
The Gargoyle had a sad grin on his gray face. “I see ― you didn’t know. Valeria has been my companion for over a year. Our bond is for life. Our relationship was a secret.”
“Valeria? I thought she’d go Banshee at any moment. She’s so…”
“Rigid?” Dorian said, and laughed. “She’s actually a lot of fun once you get to know her. It’s all for show. Eevenellin’s the same. She was keeping our secret.”
“You mean Eevenellin didn’t turn Valeria to stone either? And she didn’t cause the Scourge?”
That left only one person.
Dorian guffawed. “You’re joking, right? Eevenellin may seem a bit rough, but that’s just a ploy. She’s really very nice, and one of my closest friends. She kept me informed of what’s going on while I was locked up. We’re trying to figure out who did this. We think that Valeria knew something, but she was turned to stone to keep her silent. It looks as if she was angered when she was petrified. She was half way to Banshee by the looks of it.”
“Does it have anything to do with Festrel?” Grim asked.
The Gargoyle shook his head. “I don’t know. But if it was that little brat, I’ll hunt him down myself. I don’t care whose son he is.”
He marched faster then, and Grim followed, now unsure of everything.
They strode along darkened passageways, sometimes surfacing in abandoned stone buildings, but most of the time marching through tunnel after tunnel. The smell worsened as they went deeper. And somewhere Grim lost track of time. There was no sign of night or day, no indication of how long they had been walking, searching through the catacombs. Strangely they found entire city blocks under the ground, some abandoned, and some were still populated by the oddest of folk — most with sinth parts making up most of their bodies, if not all. It was in one of these blocks, where the sky above them was made of stone, that they found a small inn in which to rest. It was called The Blackwater and running next to it was a large sewage pipe filled with its namesake.
Dorian had money given to him by Aunt Patrice, but he handed the coins to Grim to pay the innkeeper. Gargoyles, he explained, are not well-liked and if the innkeeper knew what he was she might turn them away. He placed his hood over his head and followed Grim. The pear-shaped innkeeper did not seem to take any notice and saw them to a room, all the while clearing her nose in a rather filthy hanky every couple of minutes.
They woke to a simple breakfast and hit the waste-strewn underground tunnels once more. They slowed their pace as a heavy fog drifted into the tunnels. It inundated them with a strangely warm touch and ghostly white figures that wailed as they swept by.
“Careful,” muttered Dorian. “There are Mirages in the fog.”
“Mirages?”
“Those things,” he said, and swiped at one of the phantoms as it got too close.
Grim squinted into the mist, trying to keep straight. He lost sight of Dorian ahead of him and slowed as he nearly tripped. Grim stopped. A faint voice called from the distance.
“Grim!”
He could swear it was Poppa’s voice. Then a second voice joined the first.
“Grim, where are you? We’ve come for you!”
It was Dad. Grim turned towards the sound of their voices. His parents had come!
Again Pop’s voice called to him.
“Grim! Follow my voice, Grim!”
Three of the pale apparitions flew past, wailing. Grim inched forward and listened for his parents again.
They were coming to find him. They would take him home.
Another voice called in addition to his parents.
“Grim! Grim where are you? Follow the sound of my voice. You are in great peril, Grim!”
It reminded Grim of Veerasin�
��s foretelling. He was in great peril; he needed to reach his parents.
“Grim!”
The Mirages brushed against his skin ― cold to the touch. Grim ran forward, stumbling through the fog.
Faster!
He had to reach his parents.
One of the Mirages nearly knocked him over, wailing as it flew past. Grim’s feet squished through the sewers.
“Pop!” he called. “Dad!”
There was a growl behind him and Grim saw red eyes in the fog. He tried to run, but he struggled to lift his legs.
“Grim!”
Another roar behind him. Something was coming for him.
“Pop! Dad!”
“Grim!”
The red eyes were closer. There was nowhere to run. He grabbed a rock from under his foot.
The Mirages swept in again.
Grim gritted his teeth. It was not going to take him without a fight.
“Grim!”
He readied the stone.
The phantom creatures breezed past him again.
“Grim!”
The creature inched closer.
He had a clean shot.
“Grim!”
He hurled the rock and it struck the creature. It dropped to the ground and the glow of its red eyes dimmed.
“Grim,” it whispered, and Grim blinked. He knew that voice.
It was Dorian.
“Oh, no!”
Then one of the Mirages knocked Grim into the water. He strained to pull himself up and reach Dorian. The Gargoyle pulled his hand from his bleeding forehead with a groan.
“I’m so sorry,” Grim said. “I didn’t know it was you.”
The blood that seeped from Dorian’s wound was almost black.
“Are you hurt badly?”
“Not too bad,” he said.
Grim tore a strip of cloth from his shirt. He wrapped it around Dorian’s head.
“Thank you,” Dorian said. “That’ll do.”
Grim pulled him up.
Dorian snorted. “I’ll be fine, really. I’m just glad I found you. We have to get out of here.”
“But I heard my parents calling me,” Grim said. “They’ve come to take me home.”
Dorian shook his head and growled at one of the Mirages that swept in close. He swiped at it with his claws.
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