The Map, The Dagger, and The Vampyres (Fated Chronicles Book 2)

by Humphrey Quinn

She swirled out of sight, no need to ask the it, in question.

  “We must not allow this news to be discovered by any others, especially the other Grosvenor,” advised Fazendiin, while they waited for her return. “We must be the ones to locate this mature Projector. If we can complete this mission, there will be nothing left in our way.”

  Desire eclipsed his usual consummate control, and he continued fervently.

  “If we can complete this mission, my son, we will no longer need the book I've had you chasing after these last two years, or the missing Immortality Stone. The Stone, although powerful enough to give immortality is nothing compared to the power of a living Projector! Most especially one who’s managed to stay in hiding all these years.”

  Colby nodded that he understood, sucking in a nervous breath. He was getting bored with chasing after Colin Jacoby, anyway.

  “This will be the most difficult task I have asked of you. But I have the utmost trust that you will not fail me, Son.”

  “I will do whatever you ask, Father.” Colby gave him a determined nod.

  “Mother,” Fazendiin spoke, noting her return. She lifted her hand, in which lay a pure white dagger. Her gaze held a blank sort of deadness as Fazendiin touched the stained glass with his own hand and when he turned around to face his son again, held a real dagger in his palm. It was about ten inches in length and looked to have been hand carved. Colby could not identify the substance it had been made from. Regardless, it was slick and solid.

  “What does this do?” asked Colby.

  “This is my most prized weapon,” his father revealed. “Forged in secret, known until now only by me, and my dear mother.”

  Colby gulped, his eyes wide with amazement. He wondered what would be required of him. Would he need to stab and kill someone with this dagger? Killing from a distance using magic was one thing, but close enough to stab someone? To physically thrust a weapon meant to kill into someone’s body…

  He swallowed a dry pocket of air, heart racing anxiously at the thought.

  “This dagger will strip a mature Projector’s power, storing it securely inside the dagger. Something no one has ever been able to do before.”

  Colby’s eyes momentarily flashed doubt. He would need to stab someone with this dagger. He hoped his father had missed his short lapse in confidence as the realization of this task hit him. This would be the hardest task he had ever set out to do.

  “It will not strip the young one,” his father advised. He’d been hiding the dagger, counting down the days before the young one would have been old enough. He’d save that for another day now. He wasn’t one to turn down an opportunity when it was thrown at him. His dear imprisoned mother had to be seething, and didn’t that burn a grin onto his face. He’d finally get rid of that damn Projector. Oh, he knew exactly which one had managed to hide and survive all this time. This would make his mother’s torture so much sweeter. But this wasn’t something Colby could know. Not yet.

  Fazendiin wiped the grin, eyeing his son. “The dagger won’t strip a Projector’s power until maturity is reached. So if you cross paths with the young one, leave them, they are not of consequence. For today.”

  An odd sense of relief came over Colby. Killing a stranger was one thing, but killing a young child that might or might not yet realize what they were, he just didn't know if he could do it.

  “Are you prepared for this task?” his father questioned as if reading the doubt flitting through his son's thoughts.

  He squared his father in the eye and answered, “Yes.” He extended his hand, holding open his palm. Fazendiin placed the dagger into his son’s hand.

  Colby traced the edges of the white dagger cautiously with his fingers, rubbing over the pitted ridges, which allowed him a firm grip on the dagger. He took a quick swipe through the air.

  Fazendiin grunted in impassioned gratification at the sight of his son gripping the dagger, swinging it heftily in a stabbing motion. He allowed his son a moment more, and then waved his hands over the dagger. Sheets of smoky blackness streamed out of his hand encasing the dagger in a hard, protective sheath.

  Colby secured it to his belt. He would tell no one of this weapon. Not even KarNavan, until it was time to use it.

  Fazendiin looked down at his son, eyes gleaming with pride. “Once you have stripped this Projector of his power you are to return to me at once. I alone, understand how to use the power wielded inside the dagger.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “One more thing,” warned Fazendiin. “A fully mature Projector is cunning, wise, and more powerful than anything you have ever been up against. Underestimating his potential, magically speaking, would be unwise. I suggest aiming for his human nature.”

  Colby cocked his head, thinking about what his father meant. “Play to his human nature,” he repeated, his eyes lighting up. “Find out what he would risk himself for.”

  “You are indeed my son,” Fazendiin boasted, tasting the sure success of their dangerous venture.

  “I will not return until I have the Projector’s power inside this dagger,” vowed Colby loyally. He took leave of the room, making his way out to meet KarNavan.

  CHAPTER 38

  The sound of muffled voices dug into Colin Jacoby’s sleepy mind. Rousting him. Little by little. A familiar laugh, one that filled him with warmth. Another not-so-familiar grizzled voice of a man he had met only one time, briefly. How was it he was hearing this voice? His eyes flickered open, the remnants of slumber leaving him. His gaze landed on a wooden ceiling over his head, lined with thick beams splattered with wide brushstrokes of pitch and tar.

  His gaze went vertical, crawling along his body. He was flat on his back on a bed. He rolled back the covers only to find himself fully dressed in the same clothes he’d last recalled putting on. He sat up on the edge and found that his shoes were sitting on the floor next to the bed, waiting for his feet to slide inside. He noticed that the entire room, except for a small round window, was made of the same aged wood.

  He slid on his shoes and got to his feet, wobbling some. He smoothed and adjusted his clothes, peering through the window, though there wasn’t much to see other than dense patchy fog.

  He wobbled again. No, it wasn’t him. It was like the ground was swaying underneath him. “Am I on a boat?” He spied through the window again, squinting through the fog. Yup, definitely a boat. They were trolling along, a shoreline about twenty feet off to the side. The shore was crowded with thick based trees with long tendril-like limbs that branched high over the boat. Bluish-gray mosses dangled from the limbs like overgrown decoration.

  “Where on Earth am I?” he asked, at the same time realizing it was entirely possible he might not be on Earth at all, but rather in some alternative world, far from the place he called home. But all of this got his brain firing again. Memories flooded his mind.

  Wherever here was, he had fled with Catrina Flummer, because his sister had betrayed them to Juliska Blackwell. The woman he believed was responsible for locking Catrina into a glass coffin and leaving her to sleep away her life deep in the caves of Eidolon, the Goblin king, who was now dead at the hands of Colin Jacoby.

  For a moment, anger filled his heart. Anger for what Meghan had done to him. Anger that he had trusted her, even after Catrina's grandfather's ghost, Balloch Flummer, had warned him not to trust anyone. This was Meghan, his sister, and until not too long ago, his protector from stupid things like bullies.

  “Bullies,” he mumbled, the memory of those times somehow funny. No, not funny he corrected himself. “They’re just much larger, more powerful bullies now.”

  He shook his head trying to force these feelings aside as new ones erupted. Where was he? Was Catrina okay? He'd thought he had heard her laughing but had that been real?

  Feeling awake and ready to face whatever was outside of this room, he spun around, locating the door. He stepped carefully, stopping to peer through cracks in the door, but all he could see were streams of light p
ouring down a staircase from the deck above.

  The door opened with ease. He took this as a good sign, for if he was being held prisoner, surely it would have been locked. He took each step cautiously, worried he might be heard approaching, but every creak his footsteps made was drowned out by heavier groans of the boat’s movements through the water.

  Near the top, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the light. It was not overly bright, being that the boat was surrounded by swirling mists, but it was still much brighter than the room he had been sleeping in. As he reached the top and stepped onto the deck, a welcoming voice called out.

  “Colin! You’re awake!”

  “Catrina,” he called out, seeing her sitting across the table from an elderly looking man. She smiled widely and motioned for him to join them. He did so, finding the chairs on the deck heavy and cumbersome to move. As he sat next to her, he asked, “You okay?”

  She nodded yes and squeezed his hand in reply. He breathed a little more easily.

  Colin eyed the man. “Jasper Thorndike?” he addressed, confirming that this was indeed the man sitting across from him. The same man who had sold him the Magicante, back in Cobbscott, Maine, during the Blue Moon Festival before Colin had even known anything about magic.

  Jasper replied in a gravelly voice. “In the flesh, Mr. Jacoby.”

  Before Colin could ask more, Catrina blurted out, “Isn’t this boat magnificent?”

  Colin shrugged, still a bit hazy, in body, mind, and spirit.

  The boat was larger than he expected, and from what he could see, completely built of wood. Mostly, as he gazed around, it looked like they were floating downriver in a garden, as somehow, a good portion of the boat deck could not be seen underneath the layers of vegetables, flowers, and even smallish trees sprawled all over it.

  Colin noted peaches, apples, and pears all ripe and ready to eat. He saw tomatoes of deep red, yellow, and green, dangling from vines near the edge of the boat; sunflowers mixed in with corn stalks, green beans with peppers; spots here and there plotted with bulky heads of lettuce. It was a regular salad bar just waiting for picking and eating.

  Colin did not see them, but he also caught the distinct sound of clucking chickens. Even hazy, he had to agree. The boat was a magnificent, self-sufficient living space. The food made his stomach rumble. Catrina and Jasper seemed to know he would be as she was already grabbing a plate and loading it with prepared food.

  Jasper said, “We’ll have ourselves a talk soon enough, but first, eat up, Mr. Jacoby.”

  Colin did not argue and gladly accepted the plate Catrina scooped up for him, which included biscuits topped with eggs, smothered in savory smelling gravy. Sided with freshly picked and sliced tomatoes.

  “Thanks,” he said, wolfing down his first bite. “Feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”

  He missed the fleeting glance between Catrina and Jasper.

  The sounds of his chewing were drowned out by the creaking of the boat. Now that he’d had a better look, it was more like a barge. Birds chirped on shore. Insects buzzed overhead, but not once did a single one bother him while eating. There was a splash in the water like something jumped. He peered over the edge... was that an alligator?

  He set down his fork, having had enough for now. It was time for talking and getting questions answered. Starting with, “Where are we? How long was I asleep?”

  Jasper cleared away the dishes and let Catrina start catch up time.

  “Well,” she began apprehensively.

  “Well?” he prodded when she didn’t continue.

  “It’s been nearly a month.”

  “Wh-what? You’re joking, right?”

  “No. Sorry. It’s really been that long.”

  “Why are you apologizing? Didn’t you just wake up too?”

  “No,” she answered him. Her gaze lifted to Jasper in a silent request for him to explain the rest.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” Colin asked them both. “Have we been on the boat this whole time?”

  “Yes.” Jasper took over. And returned to his seat at the table. “I’m afraid it was my doing. A necessary doing.”

  “I am so confused,” Colin spouted.

  “We’ll get you up to speed soon. I will explain why. However, as to where you are, I believe you call this the Bayou.”

  “Like in Louisiana?” asked Colin.

  Jasper nodded.

  “Huh,” said Colin, plunking back in his chair. How surreal. After visiting other worlds and not believing he might ever get home again, he was suddenly back in his own. He felt excitingly close, and yet frustratingly far away.

  Catrina cleared her throat and Colin turned his attention to her.

  “Colin, I think it’s time for you to be officially introduced.” She spoke with pronounced clarity, “This is Jasper Thorndike, and he is the Last. Living. Projector.”

  Colin felt like he’d just fallen through the boat and was sinking into the river.

  “I- I thought you were all dead?”

  “They missed one,” Jasper explained.

  So there was a Projector still alive, and it was the man who’d first given him the Magicante.

  Catrina continued, although more timidly. “I guess he’s not the last living Projector anymore.”

  There it is, Colin’s thoughts shouted. Confirmation of the terrible truth. Catrina really is the Projector. This had to be why Jasper had helped them escape. But… he seemed pretty normal. Not wild, insane, or with uncontrolled power going all haywire.

  Was there some hope? Some possibility Jasper might be able to help Catrina? Before it was too late or they were hunted down, or… he caught Jasper and Catrina sharing a silent look he wasn’t sure the meaning behind. They’d had a month to talk it all over, they must have already discussed a lot of this.

  “You should know, Mr. Jacoby,” Jasper said next, “that Projectors were not always hunted and feared. Quite the contrary, actually. In the old days we were once revered and highly sought after magicians. I’m sure you’re familiar with the old adage, one bad egg…”

  Catrina explained further, albeit still apprehensively. “A few Projectors went bad and the rest had to pay the price. But there is hope because Jasper has spent his entire life controlling his powers, and he's been around for a really long time.” Her voice held more confidence as she finished.

  Colin’s face lightened, feeling hope for the first time in what seemed like forever. “What can I do?” he asked her. “There must be some way I can help?”

  Catrina returned his question with a puzzled look.

  “Unless I’m not allowed to help,” Colin backtracked, less confidently.

  “Mr. Jacoby,” said Jasper, taking a deep breath. “You seem to have the wrong impression. Catrina here, she is special indeed. A rare gift that needs protection, no doubt. But she is not a Projector.”

  “What? What do you mean?” asked Colin, furious at once. “Juliska Blackwell locked her inside a glass coffin deep in a cave surrounded by goblins! So she would never be found! Why would she do that?”

  Catrina took hold of his hand again, to calm him. Although confused, he tried to focus on the comforting fact that she was not a Projector. Regardless of why Juliska had hidden her away, Catrina was safe and with him, and more importantly not a Projector. Not evil.

  “Colin, Juliska locked me away because I’m a Song Spinner,” she continued to explain. Colin just shrugged, having no idea what a Song Spinner was.

  “When I hear music, like the songs played by the Svoda around their campfires, I hear the true stories behind those songs; stories long forgotten by nearly everyone, and stories that some do not want remembered.” It was a simplified explanation about her ability, but it would have to do as they didn’t really need to be talking about her gift.

  “You mean like Juliska Blackwell,” Colin confirmed. After a second, he blurted out, “So the message you had for Ivan, that was a song,” he remembered. “His mother left him a song. Di
d she know you were a Song Spinner? You were just a baby, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was. I can only guess that somehow she knew what I was and that someday, I would need to deliver that message to her son. I honestly wish I could have told Ivan more. That boy is clearly tortured by the loss of his mother.”

  “Rightfully so, I’m sure,” spoke Jasper. “I don’t know as us boys ever get over the loss of our mothers. Even those of us who live much longer than the average man.”

  Catrina acknowledged that statement with a sad smile, while Colin let out an exasperated breath.

  “I never knew my mother, but all this magic stuff… it just gets stranger and stranger.” A look of awe washed across his face, followed again by confusion as he caught Jasper and Catrina eyeing each other as if having another silent conversation.

  He did not like the feeling. I suppose this is what Sebastien felt like all those times he caught Meg... he stopped himself, not wishing to think about his sister. Bad idea.

  Jasper cleared his throat, regaining Colin's attention.

  “Mr. Jacoby,” he breathed out heavily. “I must tell you that while Catrina is indeed a rare find, you, my young sir, are even more so.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jasper cast his gaze meaningfully from Colin, to Catrina, and back to Colin.

  Colin puckered his mouth and pinched his eyes, trying to understand what point Jasper was trying to make. Things started to formulate in his mind. Piece together…

  Catrina is not the Projector.

  I am rarer than she is.

  He opened his mouth to speak, his face going limp and blank as understanding spread through him like a thorn piercing its way through his blood.

  Catrina is not the Projector.

  I am rarer than she is.

  Colin bounded out of his chair like he’d just been sitting in lava, scrambling to steady himself. He had been so focused on Catrina he had missed the truth completely.

  “It’s me,” he stammered. “It’s me.”

  Catrina joined him, but decided to keep her distance as the look in his eye frightened her a little.