The Left-Hand Path: Mentor

by T. S. Barnett

  “I don’t know why you put up with that shit for so long,” he chuckled.

  “What choice did I have? They’re still my parents, adopted or not.”

  “If there’s one thing you learn from coming along with me, Cora, I hope that it’s how to speak up for yourself.” Nathan set down his cup and stared across the table at her with a stern frown. “Those people made you feel like an other just because you didn’t live up to their stereotypical—and frankly, a little racist—expectations. When you should have been feeling like an other because you’re better than they could ever be in every conceivable way,” he added helpfully.

  Cora looked down at her half-eaten burger with her hands in her lap and a dull warmth in her chest. “It’s hard to think of yourself that way when you’ve been told the opposite for so long,” she murmured.

  “Well I’m telling you you’re better,” Nathan countered. “And as I’m much older and wiser than both of your parents put together, it’s only sensible that my opinion matter more to you than theirs.” She smiled faintly without looking up. “Their inability to make a human connection with someone they’ve claimed as their daughter is not your problem. It hasn’t done you any good so far to take abuse quietly, so why not stop holding your tongue?”

  “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted.

  “Of course I am. I’m always right.”

  She looked up at him, comforted by his warm smile, and finished her meal feeling a bit lighter than before.

  “I left some things back at the apartment,” Nathan said as they climbed back into his Jeep. “I need to pick them up. Assuming our Chaser actually woke up from the knock you gave him. If he’s been sitting there dead this whole time, I’m going to be quite cross with you.”

  “With me?”

  “All of this will be for nothing if nobody’s chasing me, my love.”

  “There’s no way he’s dead, right?” she asked as he started the scratchy engine. “I couldn’t have hit him that hard.”

  “A head is a tender thing, Cora,” Nathan shrugged.

  “Some of us are not as okay with murder as you are, you know.” She shook her head. “No. No way he’s dead.”

  “I suppose we’ll see.”

  It was a bit of a long drive to the apartment complex, but Nathan turned the radio up loud enough to be heard over the wind, and Cora smiled as she watched him tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel.

  The parking lot was quiet as Nathan pulled into his old spot near the front of the building, and he had to dig under the front seat to find his handicapped placard before hanging it on the rear view mirror. Cora wasn’t certain at all that he should still be using it, but it was definitely the smallest crime he’d committed in the past twenty-four hours, so she decided against mentioning it. Nathan put a hand on her arm to keep her in the car and put a finger to his lips. He shut off the engine and seemed to listen, but the only sounds Cora could hear were a few birds and the cars on the street behind them.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, and Nathan quickly shushed her once more before climbing down out of the Jeep and waving her forward.

  “Just checking. It’s fine. Probably.”

  Cora paused at the side of the car. “Probably? What might not be fine?”

  Nathan didn’t answer. He walked up to his front door and gently laid a hand on it instead of trying to open it, letting his fingertips lightly trace the painted metal while he whispered words Cora couldn’t hear. After a moment, he turned the knob and swung the door open, pausing as though waiting for something to jump out at him. He leaned his head through the door and sniffed, then glanced back at his young apprentice.

  “You go in first.”

  “What? Me? No way; you think something’s in there! What the hell am I supposed to do about it?”

  “If something happens, better I’m here to stop it than you. Go on.”

  Cora frowned skeptically up at him, but she moved forward when he touched her shoulder. She stepped across the threshold into the living room, holding her breath, and she reached the middle of the room without incident. She turned back to the door to face Nathan and shrugged, but when she tried to return to him, she hit an invisible barrier that shimmered green at the impact and sent her backwards onto the floor.

  “Ah, you cheeky bastard,” Nathan laughed, and he moved inside and ran his fingers down the shield, leaving a trail of iridescent green in the air. “This is a good one. Where are you?”

  “I knew you’d come back,” Elton said as he appeared in the bedroom doorway. He kept a stoic face despite the sight in front of him. Moore had definitely killed in his absence. He was young, slim, and strong, without a touch of the grey hair and hunched back Elton had seen in his apartment. The gold jewelry seemed to suit him better now. Incredible. He looked exactly like his photos. “Looking healthy, I see,” he added politely.

  “Mr. Willis!” Nathan laughed and leaned around to look past Cora’s panicking face. The Chaser was just as deliciously imposing as he’d been before—his tailored suit neat and pressed, the knot in his tie perfectly straight. Nathan couldn’t contain his smile. “May I call you Elton? I really feel like we’re close enough to be on a first-name basis. Good job hiding yourself; I didn’t notice you at all. Well done.”

  “Just doing my job.” Elton felt his ring grow hot as he extended his hand and spoke the word adrig, but the effect was not quite as anticipated. Nathan stumbled and almost bent toward the floor, but then a sharp crack sounded and he rose again, pleasantly smiling. Cora, however, dropped immediately to the carpet, her hands bound together behind her back. Nathan gestured to her with a quick word, but Elton’s spell held her tight, causing Nathan to sneer in irritation and snap his eyes back to Elton.

  “Not trying very hard to get away, are you?” Elton asked with a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You’re coming in,” he promised. “If you try to run again, I’ll make sure the girl doesn’t see the light of day until we find you.”

  “Threatening apprentices now? You aren’t playing fair, Mr. Chaser,” Nathan murmured, a small smirk playing at his lips. “I like it. Is this how you catch all of your criminals? Pick on their apprentices?”

  “If I’d known you had an apprentice at all, things wouldn’t have progressed this far to begin with. I wouldn’t have been blindsided with a candlestick.”

  “Sorry not sorry,” Cora said from inside her bubble, though her voice was slightly muffled by her bent posture.

  “I didn’t know you took apprentices,” Elton said, doing a decent job hiding his curiosity. He had a hundred thousand questions that he could have asked in a ten-minute span if he had thought Nathan would answer any of them. How did he start down this path? How did he become so powerful? Why did he always burn the bodies of his victims? He kept them all inside, imagining it wouldn’t do much for his tenuous position as the one in charge to act like an eager schoolboy.

  Nathan glanced sidelong at him. “I’m very particular. They have to sign a waiver right away, and we only continue if they tick the box labeled ‘willing to knock out poncy Chasers at a moment’s notice.’ Cora’s done quite well. So if you take her, I’m going to do some chasing of my own. Wouldn’t that be a nice little role reversal?”

  “I’m not here to play games, Moore.”

  “That’s a terrible shame. Games are my favorite. Let’s have at it then, if you’re so determined. Let the girl up; you know it’s me you want.”

  “She’s coming in with you. For attacking a Chaser and for impeding justice.”

  “She’s a kid,” Nathan protested. “You aren’t laying a hand on her.”

  “We both know I don’t have to,” Elton answered placidly, his threat clear. Cora was already bound and contained, and she clearly wasn’t capable of defending herself.

  Nathan paused a moment, tilting his head at the Chaser, and then he sighed dramatically and shrugged his shoulders apologetically at Cora. “I suppose you’ve won, Elton; I’m good a
nd caught. Damn the luck. Let me fix up a few things around here first, will you, as a favor? For the girl.”

  “What? What’s going on?” Cora asked, slightly muffled through the barrier, but she received no answer.

  Elton watched Nathan with narrowed eyes as he approached, but the other man only lightly touched his chest to urge him aside and began to sift through one of the kitchen cabinets.

  “Fix what up? What are you doing?” He hadn’t anticipated Moore being so calm. All of the reports had painted a picture of a daring, powerful witch who endangered everyone he met, but this person seemed positively serene. Not that Elton believed for a moment that Moore had any intention of actually coming quietly, but he’d expected a more direct fight.

  “Keep an eye on the time, as well, would you?” Nathan asked instead of answering, and he brushed back by Elton with an armful of various satchels. The Chaser followed him back to the front door, waiting for the inevitable attack while Nathan hummed and crouched by the small patch of clay along the sidewalk outside his front door. This was definitely a more conversational encounter than Elton had envisioned.

  Cora twisted her neck as much as she could to keep her eyes on the two men. “Will somebody tell me what the hell is happening, please?” she called.

  Nathan dug his fingers into the soft earth until he touched the cork lid of the bottle buried there, and he carefully twisted the brown stoneware until it came free. He inspected the jar for cracks, running his fingertips over the ivy carvings around the outside and the bearded face embossed just below the neck.

  “A witch bottle?” Elton’s brow furrowed. “Is that how you’ve been keeping people away?” He shut his mouth at Nathan’s sly grin and reminded himself not to be impressed by this man. “But who else is looking for you, now that I’ve found you?”

  “You think I’ve been around this long and only managed to piss off the Magistrate? I keep hidden from a lot of things. Not that it matters, since I’m a captured man now,” Nathan added with a solemn frown that Elton didn’t trust in the slightest. “This is for the girl, like I said.” He leaned over to see Cora pressed against the barrier inside. “Lesson time, my love. Witch bottles are good for a year and a day. Protects you from harm, keeps you hidden—great stuff. But now it’s a year and today. You’ve terrible timing, Elton.”

  Elton turned his face away from the smell as Nathan uncorked the top of the jar and tossed the contents into the grass, shaking out the last remnants of stale liquid and sludge inside. His instinct was to bind Moore any way he could and forget this nonsense altogether, since it was almost certainly a stalling tactic, but there was enough of a chance that he was telling the truth about wanting to protect the girl—and Elton was curious enough, if he could have admitted it—that he let him carry on.

  Nathan dug into his satchels with the Chaser looking over his shoulder, and he refilled the jar with needles, pins, and shards of broken glass, then poured a hefty amount of ash and salt over the sharp ends. He flinched as he jerked a few hairs from his head and dropped them into the open mouth of the jar, and he stood and handed the full bottle to Elton.

  “Hold this for me, will you?” he asked politely, and Elton took it automatically, but he pulled away as Nathan began to unbutton his jeans.

  “I am not holding something you’re about to piss in,” the Chaser scowled.

  “Well if it’s on the ground I’ll miss, won’t I? Just hold it up a bit.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Time is of the essence, darling,” Nathan pressed. Elton moved to put the jar on the ground, but a screech of tires and a loud honk from the street nearby startled him enough that the stoneware slipped from his hands and cracked on the sidewalk.

  “Did you just—” Nathan began, staring between Elton’s face and the jar as ash spilled out from the crack and drifted away in the breeze. He crouched down to check the bottle, but it fell into two pieces in his hands. “You did. Oh, you monstrous idiot,” he growled, rising to look the other man in the eyes. “How could you—all you had to do was—do you have any idea how old that was? Do you know where to find witch bottles these days, proper ones? No, you don’t, because nobody makes them anymore, you incredible halfwit.”

  Elton had to bite his cheek to keep from apologizing out of impulse. “What do you need it for, anyway?” he asked instead. “Who could the girl possibly have after her?”

  Nathan sighed harshly through his nose, frowning up at Elton in silence for a long moment. “You know what?” he said at last. “You know what? It’s fine.” He laughed without humor and lifted his hands. “You just don’t worry your pretty head. Let me set the girl right with some supplies, and I’ll let you try to take me in.”

  “Try?”

  “Try,” Nathan scowled, putting a hand on Elton’s chest to move him as he stepped back into the apartment. “Don’t worry, my love,” he added in passing to Cora, letting her see his wink on his way by, “you’ll be out of there shortly.”

  “But the thing broke,” she said. “Is that bad? That’s bad, right?”

  “It’ll be all right,” Nathan assured her from the kitchen. “The mean old Chaser will let you free as soon as we leave.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” she objected, turning to watch Elton standing guard in the doorway. “Why don’t you just leave him alone?”

  Elton paused, feeling a slight pull of guilt in his stomach as he looked at her. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” he said softly. “He’s dangerous. He’s already dragged you far enough into this. You have no idea what he’s capable of. I need to bring him in,” he insisted.

  “Just don’t touch anything else,” Nathan called from the kitchen door, and Elton frowned at being scolded like a child.

  A clatter sounded from the next room, and Nathan reappeared in the doorway with a black box in his hands, shaking it accusingly in Elton’s direction. “Did you open this?” he shouted, holding the box open where the Chaser could see. “You did, didn’t you? I’m going to run out of names to call you. Do you know what you’ve done? This is a curse box!”

  “Curse box?” Cora asked from inside her shimmering bubble. “Is that bad? Why is it open? Nathan?”

  “There isn’t anything in it,” Elton protested.

  “Not anymore there isn’t!” He snapped his fingers and shattered the barrier around the girl, releasing her from the Chaser’s binding with an audible crack. “This is what happens when you nose around and try to get involved with your betters,” Nathan said with a slight sneer as he helped Cora to her feet.

  Elton took a small step back, startled at the ease with which Nathan broke his barrier. He’d been pretending after all. “What are you talking about? What is it you think I’ve done?”

  “You’ve released it, and you’ve broken the only thing I had that kept it from knowing where I was. I had two separate lines of defense, Elton—two—and you’ve bumbled through them both. Who sent you, really? Is this a joke?”

  Elton couldn’t prevent the faint scowl that pulled his lips. “Released what? If there’s something dangerous out there, say so.”

  “The lich.”

  Elton paused. “A lich.” He shook his head. “There isn’t any such thing.”

  “You’re right. My mistake, of course. It’s not a lich. It’s a balrog.”

  “What?” Elton’s brow furrowed. “A balrog? Are you an idiot?”

  “Well it could be, for all you know about it.”

  “Why do you even know what a balrog is?”

  “What? I read,” Nathan snapped defensively.

  “There isn’t any balrog,” Elton insisted.

  “Oh my God,” Cora cut in, “what is a lich and why is it loose and why is that bad? Answers, sometimes, please.”

  “A lich is a very naughty man, it’s loose because Elton’s at least half idiot, and it’s bad because the lich and I don’t have the very friendliest history,” Nathan explained in one breath. “Now you,” he said to Elton
, “you caused this. I’m very happy to play cat and mouse with you for as long as you like, but I have to deal with this mess first.”

  “You aren’t the one deciding what happens first, second, or at all,” Elton answered, maintaining his composure quite well despite being called an idiot more times in the last ten minutes than in his recent memory. “The local Magistrate will deal with whatever it is you’ve set loose—assuming any of this is true at all. Now if you come without a fight, I’ll let the girl be, but you aren’t in a position to make demands.”

  “Aren’t I? How about this, Mr. Chaser—this lich is going to come for me and anyone it thinks is close to me. Right now that’s Cora, and that’s you. It’s going to come for anyone it thinks will hurt. Have a family, Elton? It will find them.”

  Elton hesitated while Nathan set about filling a suitcase with all manner of vials, jars, and pouches. He couldn’t trust this man. All of this could be a lie—a trick to make Elton panic and forget what he came to do. Moore’s file was full of stories of Chasers left dead in alleys or trapped in crushing barriers until they suffocated, but he never tried to actually escape. If he was trying to run, if there was the slightest chance he was telling the truth and Jocelyn would be in danger, Elton couldn’t take the risk. Cora grabbed things as she was directed, and when the bag was full, she pulled back with a start as Elton lifted it from the table for her.

  “This isn’t a permanent arrangement,” he said, and Nathan’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

  7

  The sun was beginning to sink low in the sky as John Hargrave shut the door to the Cocopah Museum. The sky was quickly turning yellow and red, bringing on the chill of a desert evening, and he was ready to get home to a hot meal. He locked the door behind him the same way he did every evening, and he spun his key ring on his finger on his way to the parking lot. Something stirred in the bushes nearby, making him pause, and he peered into the growing darkness with narrowed eyes. A low, weak sound at the far end of the brush caught his attention.