He moved closer to the mirror, watching his reflection move in tandem. How strange. It didn’t reflect back the stone castle room he was standing in. In the mirror it appeared that he was standing in a large marble-floored room filled with copper bowls and large hammer-beaten gold disk necklaces. Like in a museum.
“No way,” he whispered under his breath. He pressed his finger to the glass. It was as solid as solid could be. He looked behind the mirror. There was just an empty space and the crease of the wall gathering dust.
This was weird too. He gazed out of the window next to the mirror. Outside it appeared that this room was on the third floor not on the ground, a vast green lawn stretching out and fading into a thick forest. Far in the distance he could see a huge mountain range. Wherever this was, he didn’t seem to be in Saint Joseph anymore.
Chapter Nine
Alyx stepped into the grand museum foyer. The museum may have looked like two pieces of a Frankenstein science experiment from the outside but from the inside it looked exactly like it did in real life, wide hallways stretching ahead, left and right, the warm light coming from the grand chandeliers twinkling off the marble and glass.
She thought she heard someone whispering her name. The door slammed shut behind her and she spun. Nobody was there. Where was Israel?
Did he change his mind about helping her?
A knot tied itself in her stomach. He left. Even though he said he wouldn’t. Of course he left. Everyone always left.
She turned back to the museum foyer, teeth clenched together, trying hard to ignore the prickle in her jaw. Screw him. Better he left now than later. She didn’t need him anyway. She’d find the globe herself.
She strode down a corridor, aiming straight for the room that held the ancient Greek collection, her footfalls echoing in the empty hallway. Several times she thought she could hear whispering as she passed the open doorways to the other rooms, causing her to hand to flinch to her sword. But there was no one else here. She kept going, eyes darting about her, wishing fiercely that Israel was here by her side and hating herself for missing him.
She reached the ancient Greek room, a cavernous marble space with low display tables containing fragile pottery and old tools; there were also roped off podiums holding larger pieces and some statues.
There it was. In the center of the room, the statue of Atlas, a giant marble figure bent over and with a giant globe resting on his shoulders. The figure’s eyebrows furrowed with strain and his shoulders curved with the weight of the world on them, literally.
I know how you feel.
What now? This globe was too large to take with her.
The riddle said that there was a world within the globe. What if it literally meant within the globe? Which meant she had to figure out how to open it.
She walked around the statue, studying it, looking for some sort of clue that might reveal how she could open it. There were no hidden levers, no symbols or writing. Nothing on the statue was jumping out at her. Maybe she had to break it open. Even though this wasn’t real, a part of her blanched at that idea.
Alyx glanced around the room then craned her neck to look up…to the blank ceiling.
A blank ceiling.
“There ’neath the spiral stars of gold, lies a world within a globe.”
There was no painting of a spiral of stars above. Not even a skylight to show the real stars. She hadn’t remembered until now.
She cursed under her breath. “This globe isn’t the right one.”
“We meet again, Alyx,” a loud deep voice boomed through the room.
She stumbled back. The stone figure of Atlas dropped the globe off his shoulders with a crash against the floor and rose to full height, almost a head taller than her.
She missed Israel’s presence by her side with a fierceness that almost stole her breath. Where are you, Israel? Why did you have to leave me alone?
Cracks appeared across Atlas. He broke apart in a cloud of rubble. She squinted and coughed through the dust. As it cleared it revealed a man underneath, wheat-colored hair cut short, stern brows, wide shoulders, dressed in a similar black uniform as she had on, a sword sheathed to his hip. She stood her ground and drew her sword. Now would be a great time to remember how to use it.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Don’t you remember me?” He stepped forward and out of the haze, his fierce blue eyes flashing at her, tickling a memory lost deep inside her. “I died for you once.”
He reached for the dagger in his boot. “I won’t let him use my powers to kill you. I won’t. If…if I take away my magic, then he will weaken enough for you to break out.”
“No, Symon.” The growing realization of what he meant to do gripped her like a thousand sharp claws.
“It’s the only way, or he will destroy you. You need to live.”
Symon’s hands closed around the handle as he turned the point to face himself.
The memory slammed through her, making her gasp, and she almost dropped her sword. “Symon.”
He nodded.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to—”
“The time for talking is over.” He leaped for her, drawing his sword and raising it over his head.
Chapter Ten
Israel heard a thudding and what sounded like a female crying out. Alyx? His body broke out in a panicked rash.
Next door. It sounded like it came from the room next door. Israel raced out into the corridor where heard a muffled female voice. It was definitely coming from the room next door.
He barged through the door, sword at the ready. He froze just inside the doorway of what appeared to be somebody’s room, a bed made with a thin fleece blanket behind the two people standing before him.
“Ugh, he’s miscalculated this time.”
“He has not miscalculated. Look.” Balthazar waved to him, looking exactly the same as when he broke into Israel’s apartment. “Hello again, Israel.”
Standing next to him was a woman who looked like a pixie with short silver hair. She was brushing down her black clothes. “Nice to see that you decided not to land on me this time, Balthazar.” This must be Vix, the woman that Alyx met with Balthazar earlier. She looked up at Israel and grinned.
“Vix?”
Her eyes widened. “You remember me?”
Israel shook his head. Although… “Alyx told me she met you two earlier. I assumed it was you.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Right. Yes, that was me.”
“In all your charm,” Balthazar added.
Vix shot him a sharp look before turning back to glance past Israel. “Where’s Alyx?”
“I don’t know. I lost her as soon as I stepped inside the castle.”
“Castle?” Balthazar frowned. “I thought Jordan was sending us to a museum?”
Vix glanced around her, wrinkling her nose. “Is this…Speranza?”
“What’s a Speranza?” Israel asked.
“Castle Speranza. It means ‘hope’ in Italian. Alyx named it. We had our community here, at least we did until Elder Michael came and—”
“Now who’s wasting time,” Balthazar muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Vix gave out a short grunt, then turned back to Israel. “We’re here to offer you a gift, if you can answer this riddle.”
Magic. They had magic for him too. Israel sheathed his sword and stood up straight. “I’m ready.”
Vix smiled. “I have towns—”
“Hang on a minute,” Balthazar interrupted. “You got to say the last one.”
“So?”
“I want to say this one.”
Vix rolled her eyes. “You’re such a child.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“I know you are but what am I?”
Vix let out a loud sigh and threw her arms up in the air. “Fine. You recite the riddle.”
“Oh, goodie.” Balthazar clapped gleefully.
“But you bett
er not muck it up.”
“I’ll have you know that I was given the Great Growl award when I studied as an orator and I always got top marks in drama.”
“Drama, I should have known,” said Vix. “But you’re telling me that you were an orator?”
Israel’s head spun. What on earth were they talking about?
“Well, no,” said Balthazar. “But I could have been if Lucifer hadn’t singled me out to work with him.”
Lucifer? Surely not the real Lucifer.
She snorted. “You, an orator.”
“I would have been a great orator. Now, please,” Balthazar glared at Vix. “I need complete silence for this.”
Vix made a motion like she was locking up her mouth and flicking away the key.
Balthazar turned to Israel and cleared his throat. Then, as if he were reciting a monologue to a crowded theater, he began to speak:
“I have towns but no houses,
Forests, but no trees,
Rivers, but no fish.
What am I?”
Both of them stared at him expectantly. Israel frowned, his mind ticking over this. Was it a play on words?
Balthazar leaned forward. “If you need a hint—”
“No hints,” snapped Vix.
“Just a little one.”
“Then the magic will wrap around your arm.”
Balthazar let out a huff and crossed his arms. “Party pooper.” But he kept his mouth shut.
Israel’s mind strained. This was impossible. There was no such thing as a town with no houses or a forest with no trees. He should just focus on finding Alyx and getting that globe so they could exchange it for their map.
He let out a yelp. “Of course.”
“Have you got it?” asked Balthazar.
He grinned. “It’s a map.”
“Corrrrrect!” Balthazar clasped his hands by his face. “Oh, our little boy is growing up.”
Vix was grinning too, even if her enthusiasm was more reserved. She looked over at Balthazar. “I supposed you want to deliver the magic too.”
“Oh, can I?”
Vix handed him a glass orb and made a wave of her hand as if to say, there you go.
Balthazar threw the orb at Israel’s feet. A wispy white mist floated out from the shattered glass and curled around Israel’s upper arm. He didn’t flinch when it seared him for a moment.
He pulled his jacket down so he could see the mark it left, a circle with three twisted lines rising up from the bottom curve. “What is it?”
“AirWhisperer,” said Vix. “We thought you’d like this one best.”
“What does it do?”
“Air magic,” said Balthazar. “You create gusts of wind, move and lift things with the air.”
“Could I lift myself?” He had always wanted to fly and the idea that he might be able to…
“Theoretically, yes.”
Israel opened his palms, directing them towards a small book on the bedside table. He thought magical thoughts and…
Nothing happened.
“How do I activate it?”
Vix raised an eyebrow. “You should just be able to use it.”
“I’ll try again,” Israel said, his blood filling with annoyance. He was able to remember how to fight; this should be easy.
“Maybe if you say ‘Abracadabra’,” Balthazar said, a sly smile on his face.
“Really?”
“No. But it would have been cute to see you try.”
Vix smacked Balthazar in the ribs. “Leave the boy alone. Go on, Israel.”
Israel glared at the book. He was going to make it move. He yanked at the magic inside him again and again, growing more frustrated by the second at Balthazar and Vix’s unhelpful commentary.
“Maybe the magic’s out of date.” Balthazar shot an accusing look at Vix.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Magic doesn’t have an expiry date.”
“Maybe it was a bad batch, then?”
“Try relaxing, Israel.”
“But don’t relax too much. You’ll drop it on your foot. God, I remember a time when I dropped a pulse of Gigantious magic on my little toe. Swelled up to the size of—”
“How is that story helpful, Balthazar?”
“I don’t see you being any more help.”
Try as he might, Israel just couldn’t grab the Air magic. The more he tried, the more it seemed to retreat farther out of his reach. “I can’t do it,” he let out in frustration, glaring at his palms.
“Sorry, Israel. It looks like our time is up. I can see right through Vix,” Balthazar said staring at her. Both of them were fading fast.
“Wait!” If only he could cling on to them and keep them here. “You can’t go yet.”
Vix gave Israel a soft smile as her image thinned out. “You’ll figure it out, Israel.”
“But what if I don’t?”
Vix opened her mouth again but she disappeared before he could even make out the first word.
Chapter Eleven
Alyx stumbled back and her sword went flying, skittering back against the marble.
Symon shook his head and snarled. “Come on, Alyx. I trained you better than this.” His voice was rough, his piercing blue eyes didn’t blink as they watched her like a hawk watching his prey squirming against his claws.
Her breath came out heavy from exertion and slick beads of sweat clung to her whole body. Symon’s breath had barely quickened and his demeanor was an icy calm.
She glanced over to her fallen sword and tried to calculate the distance between Symon and the blade. Would she make it in time? She had no chance of reaching it first. Symon moved like a panther and he’d be slicing down on her before she could pick it up.
But she had to try.
She ran for her blade. She stumbled but kept going, her focus on her sword. To her surprise, he didn’t move. He just stood there with his sword at the ready. She grabbed it and faced him again, her palms sweaty.
Why hadn’t he killed her while he had the chance?
Because he wasn’t afraid of her. He wasn’t even concerned that he might not win. He was toying with her.
Symon raised an eyebrow. “Got your head in the game yet?”
Without waiting for an answer he attacked. Alyx stumbled back, barely avoiding a blade tip to the face.
Symon made no sound as he moved across the marble floor, his sword poised like a python. “Don’t you remember anything I taught you?”
She lashed out wildly with her sword. Symon ducked effortlessly. “I don’t know what you want me to remember.”
Another failed attack sent her skidding across the museum floor and crashing into a pedestal, sending an antique Greek vase tumbling over the other side. She flinched as it smashed across the floor.
“Stop thinking too much,” Symon said, his voice like frost. “I can hear you over-analyzing everything from here.”
That was easier said than done. She rolled aside and onto her feet to face him again. He flicked his sword out and the flat side tapped her on her side. He did it again in the same spot.
“Stop it!”
He slapped her again and again with the flat of his sword, her ribs, her thighs, her arms, but never drawing blood. It was deliberate. He was just trying to show her how easy it was to get past her defenses. And how many times over she’d be dead if this were a real fight.
Why wasn’t it a real fight?
She let out another roar of frustration. “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with.”
Symon frowned. “Why would I kill you?”
“You died because of me, isn’t that right? Aren’t you here for revenge? Go on, have it. Just get it over with.”
He began to laugh. “I died for you. And I’d do it again, Alyx. I’m here to help you remember.”
“How? How do I remember?”
“Just let go.”
Those three little words were so familiar. They filled her with a calming warmth. She let out a bre
ath. Just let go. She relaxed her grip on her sword.
Just
let
go.
Alyx felt her breath steady, she felt the balance returning to her feet, the tension dropping from her shoulders.
Symon launched at her. She reacted without thinking, her blade clanged as she blocked his weapon. For a split second she stared at her sword as if it’d grown a mind of its own. She’d blocked him. She’d actually blocked him.
Symon attacked again, his sword moving faster. But so did hers. She blocked him again.
Her focus sharpened. She saw his chest shift as he breathed, she saw the tension in his thigh muscles right before he moved and the twitch of his shoulder right before he attacked, and yet out of the corner of her eye she was taking in the layout of the museum around them. She had no thoughts, no emotion, she just was. The museum echoed with the clanging of their swords as they fought across the room, avoiding pedestals and statues, moving faster and faster with each block and attack.
Their swords met in close quarters and they pressed against each other. This close to him she could see his forehead beginning to bead with sweat. She kicked him back to give herself some breathing room.
“Finally,” he said. She swore she saw the ghost of a smile on his face.
He moved to attack. She blocked his sword and at the same time she leaped up into the air, twisting her body, kicking off the edge of a large marble statue and over his head. Her sword pierced his back like a snake’s tongue.
She heard him suck in a gasp. Mid-air she realized what she had done.
As soon as her boots touched the ground she was running towards him, her sword forgotten, clattering to the floor.
“Symon!” She caught him in her arms before he dropped. She lowered his head into her lap. Blood was leaking out from the wound in his back, staining her fingers and the floor. “Oh God, what have I done?”
“You were perfect, Alyx,” he whispered, a soft smile stretching across his face before he went still.
His body cracked like dry earth and broke apart. The pieces of him crumbled and collapsed until all that was left was dust.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 264
