The Left-Hand Path: Mentor

by T. S. Barnett

  “Excellent. I’m having a smoke. If you want your story, come outside so that we don’t wake Cora.”

  The two men moved out of the hotel room, Elton shutting the door as softly as possible behind them, and Nathan hopped up to sit on the railing at the edge of the second-story walkway. Nathan lit a cigarette with a small flame in his palm and took a long drag. He held the pack out to Elton, but he shook his head and stood upwind of the smoke.

  “So,” Nathan said in a breath of smoke, “what do you want to know?”

  “Just tell me how. What’s the trick? I refuse to believe we’ve all been underestimating how deadly that spell is for the last few hundred years.”

  “Well, I’ll start at the beginning. I was born on October thirty-first, seventeen sixty-five, in Lancaster, Pennsylvania—”

  “You don’t have to start that early. And you were not born on Halloween.”

  “I was too,” Nathan argued.

  “Just tell me about the spell. Why did you do it?”

  “Well, I was old. I thought I was old at the time, anyway. I was probably only about fifty. I remember that I had grey hair—it looked nice, though, just on the sides—you know, distinguished.”

  “Nathan,” Elton sighed, and Nathan waved him off and took another pull from his cigarette.

  “Anyway. I was sick and flabby and I was getting weaker. Physically, but magically too. Nothing was fun anymore. All I had to look forward to was soup for dinner for the rest of my short life. Then I found out about the arcela airet. It seemed simple enough.”

  “Simple.”

  He shrugged. “Comparatively. I picked up some magic in school, of course, but mostly I learned it in the West Indies. Everything has a hundred steps, a dozen different ingredients all gathered under a full moon or a new moon or from a virgin’s headboard or some such.”

  “Like this phylactery spell—a gris gris, you called it.” Nathan nodded. “What were you doing in the West Indies? I thought you said you were from Pennsylvania.”

  “Well, I was young and adventurous—full of piss and vinegar, my father said. He wanted me to stay and keep running the printer until the day I died. Worked for a newspaper, you see. Rearranging letters on a press day and night. Not my kind of thing at all. So I packed a few things, headed for Philadelphia, and signed on as a privateer bound for Saint-Domingue—Haiti. Got there just a couple of years before the revolution really got started, and I stayed in the Caribbean for years, sailing between the islands, taking prizes from King George. Much milder winters than New England. I didn’t go back there until after the war.”

  “That explains the tattoos.”

  “I knew I’d seen you looking, darling.”

  Elton snorted. “Which war?”

  “The War of 1812. Our ship was taken by the Royal Navy and used in the blockade.” He shrugged. “After that, I visited our new territory in Louisiana for a little while and worked a riverboat. Seemed like a reasonable choice, since I liked the islands so much. It’s the same sort of vibe down there.”

  Elton stared at him with slightly raised eyebrows, and after a moment he let out a soft chuckle. “You hardly seem real, you know that, right? Even assuming that any of this is true.”

  “Of course it’s true!” Nathan said indignantly.

  Elton shook his head. “You were telling me about the spell,” he reminded him.

  “Why so curious about all this? Sure you don’t want to give it a go yourself?”

  “The world will be better off if the knowledge of that spell dies with you.”

  Nathan shrugged. “Your loss. In any case. Simplicity. All the arcela airet requires is a voice to say the words and a will to survive, and both of those I had. It was just my kind of thing—big risk, big reward. I’d gone home to Pennsylvania to see to my father’s funeral, and I came across the spell in one of his books while I was going through the house. So, naturally, I paid a young man from town to escort me to Philadelphia on business, and I killed him in the woods along the way. I got a good thirty years from him. It was a bit too much, actually, but I felt amazing at the time.”

  “That’s the big reveal? Nathaniel Moore began centuries of death and mayhem just because he was afraid of growing old?”

  Nathan smiled and flicked the ash from his cigarette over the railing. “Elton, if you’ve learned anything about me these past few days, you should know that fear isn’t the issue. I like living. Most people do, I think, they just don’t all have the means and the gumption to keep on doing it forever.”

  “Maybe they just aren’t murderers,” Elton said.

  “Exactly. Gumption. Look,” he sighed, “the way I see it, I have about as much chance of dying every day as anybody. Most days I probably have more. People die all the time for stupid reasons. They don’t wear their seat belt, or they step off the curb without looking, or they get on the wrong plane, or they walk down an alley at the wrong time. I’m just one more stupid thing that can happen to people on any given day.”

  “You’re a lunatic.” Elton chuckled in disbelief. “You think you’re some kind of agent of chaos, just a force of nature picking people off at your whim, and that’s the order of things?”

  “Chaos is part of the order of things. Those people were fated. Fated to die at a very specific point in time, as we all are. But I’m somebody too. I have a role to play, too. Either I’m outside of the natural order, which even my narcissism won’t allow me to admit, or the people I kill are supposed to die when I kill them. How that works with their remaining years, I couldn’t tell you. I never did have a mind for paradoxes. But I am meant to be here talking to you right now just as sure as I was meant to be born at all.”

  Elton shook his head, leaning against the concrete wall of the motel and looking out over the parking lot. “That doesn’t answer why you’ve been able to do it so many times. You’re a statistical anomaly.”

  “If you’re going to get a deeper look at me, Elton, a bit of quid pro quo is only fair.”

  “I gave you your bracelet.”

  “And I answered your question of why. If you want to know how, you have to answer me something.”

  Elton sighed. “What do you want to know?”

  “You answer why. Why come find me, after so long? You want to know my motives, but I’m as easy to read as a picture book. You, though,” he smirked, hopping down from the railing to face the other man more directly, “you are a mystery. How does a strapping, straight-laced Chaser like yourself get caught up in a fairy tale?”

  Elton avoided Nathan’s gaze. He definitely didn’t want to admit to his face that he’d found him intriguing. That he’d been drawn in by the stories of Nathan’s power, his recklessness, his wild nature. It was counter to everything Elton had ever known, unlike any black magic he’d seen. “The case was still open,” he said simply, but Nathan’s sly smile proved he wasn’t very convincing. “The case was still open and nobody else was still looking,” he tried again. “You’re dangerous. Olc túathaid need to be brought in at all costs.”

  Nathan took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, watching Elton’s eyes with a dark stare. He turned his head away to exhale the smoke. “You’re terrible at quid pro quo. Come on,” he teased, cupping one elbow and flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

  “And what’s that?” Elton felt trapped against the side of the building as Nathan inched closer to him.

  “Tell me you wanted the chase. Tell me you came after me because I’m the best, and you thought you could catch me. Just you. Tell me how much you wanted me to be this good.”

  “You were the most dangerous witch in recent memory, and no one had even come close to catching you,” Elton admitted, if only because he thought it might make Nathan put a bit more space between them. “I knew I could.” He looked down into the other man’s face with a frown. “And I wanted to.”

  “You wanted to.” Nathan smiled and gave a slight nod as he stepped away from Elton to tap his
cigarette on the railing. “I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get, isn’t it? You’re playing coy.”

  “Now answer me how.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? You said—”

  “Some things are a bit too personal. Besides, you said it yourself—it’s better if the knowledge dies with me, isn’t it? Unless you want to run away together instead of going through these motions.”

  “No thank you,” Elton answered through a tight jaw. He was grateful for the distance between them, at least. “What about the rest of it?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject. “The illusions, the glamours, becoming invisible—you learned all of that in the West Indies?”

  “Oh, that’s an even better story,” Nathan laughed, apparently as easily distracted as Elton hoped. “So I was in the middle of the woods with this kid’s body, right? I didn’t think to burn it at the time, because it wasn’t as though we had a very reliable policing system. So I was going back to my wagon, and not ten feet down the road, the wheel got stuck and cracked, and I had to get out and fix it. And I heard this voice talking to me. I looked around, and there isn’t anything there except this red fox, just sitting at the side of the road and staring at me. Then it talked. It asked me what I had done.”

  “You’re fucking with me,” Elton said. “A talking fox pricking your conscience?”

  “Oh, no, not at all. He said he liked my brass. He knew what the spell was, although he didn’t know the name for it.”

  “The talking fox.”

  “Well, he was talking and not talking. I could hear a voice, but it was speaking a language I didn’t understand. At the same time, I knew what he was saying. It was very weird, but I got used to it. He said he’d been alone for some time and was lonely. Said he’d teach me some tricks if I let him watch the next time I used the spell. At the time, of course, I had no idea if I was ever going to use it again, but I said what the hell.”

  “This is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard.”

  “Really? Vancouver’s pretty quiet, is it?” Elton frowned. “Anyway, we traveled around together for years. He didn’t have a name, but he told me to call him Jihadaeaero. It means ‘my particularly good friend,’ which I thought was sweet.”

  “What language is that?”

  “I’m not sure what the name is,” Nathan admitted. “He told me that he was a spirit that had been wandering lost since its people abandoned it. I knew them as the Conestoga—they used to have a village not far off from Lancaster, but they’d all either died of disease, been killed off, or been shipped off to Ohio to live on the reservation. Fucking white man, you know?”

  “Of course.”

  “I did end up using the spell again, obviously, and eventually he lost interest in me and we parted ways. He was a pretty good little fox.”

  “So why stop? Why did you retire, why grow old?”

  “I’ve been just about everywhere, Elton. I’ve had friends, enemies, lovers, and allies. Sometimes one becomes the other,” he added with a sly grin that Elton pointedly ignored. “Nobody was putting up a good fight until you came along. I think we’ve got a long and fruitful relationship ahead of us.”

  Elton laughed through his nose. “You really do think you’re escaping when we’re finished with this lich, don’t you?”

  “Of course. That’s the way these things work. I can’t run if you won’t chase me, and you can’t chase me if I won’t run. It’s a mutualistic relationship, and I know you wouldn’t have it any other way.” He tilted his head and flicked his cigarette butt over the rail, drawing Elton’s disapproval.

  Both men looked up when they heard Cora scream inside the room, and Nathan took up his place on the bed beside her, stroking her hair until her panicked breathing slowed.

  14

  When they were all clean and dressed in the morning—as clean as could be with the limited clothing rotation they all had—Elton called the number on Phillip Martin’s card and heard a curt voice answer the line. He put a finger in his ear to better hear over the sound of the donut shop Nathan had insisted they visit first thing in the morning.

  “Hello,” Elton said, “is this Mr. Martin? Elton Willis; we spoke a few days ago?”

  “Yes, Mr. Willis. What can I do for you? Have you found your man?”

  “It’s a bit of a complicated situation,” Elton admitted, glancing across at Nathan as he leaned in close to his ear.

  “Don’t tell him,” Nathan whispered. “He’ll let you do all the work and take the credit for himself. I know him.” He leaned back from Elton’s skeptical face, tapping the side of his own nose and giving him a pointed look.

  “I’m taking care of a pet project while I’m here, actually,” Elton decided to say. “I just need some information.” He lowered his voice and turned away from the small crowd at the counter. “I’m looking for a needle-woman. Do you know of any in the area?”

  “A needle-woman? What sort of business are you into, Willis?”

  “The private kind, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can you help me?”

  The other man paused before answering. “Come by my office,” he said after a moment. “I may have someone I can put you in touch with.”

  “Thank you.” Elton wrote down the address on a spare napkin while Nathan peered over his shoulder. “I’ll come by in an hour or so if that’s all right.”

  “I’ll be expecting you, Mr. Willis.”

  Elton ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket. None of the food on offer looked particularly appetizing, but he ate an egg and cheese bagel to stave off his hunger. He felt sick watching Nathan and Cora devour so much sugar first thing in the morning.

  Before Elton could even finish his coffee, Officer Ramos called to tell him they had found another body near Phoenix, which soured his mood and lifted Nathan’s immeasurably. When they had suitably stuffed themselves, they returned to the Jeep and drove toward the given address at Nathan’s direction.

  Nathan demanded the use of Elton’s cell phone while they drove, and he called Adelina on their way. Elton only had to remind him once to speak English, and the conversation was quite usual—Nathan told her that they had arrived safe, that they were still hunting the lich but that he expected they would finally be finished in two or three days’ time. After that, he lamented, it would be off to Vancouver to be at the mercy of Elton’s Magistrate friends. He assured her that it would be all right, which Elton didn’t have the heart to argue with, and promised to be in touch. Elton kept quiet when Nathan handed him back the phone, frowning at the unwelcome guilt in his stomach.

  Elton had plans to keep Nathan waiting in the car while he met the other Chaser, but the man was standing on the sidewalk outside of his office when they pulled up.

  “Mr. Willis,” he said as Elton dropped down from the driver’s seat and straightened himself.

  “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Mr. Martin.” Elton shook his hand as it was offered.

  He looked past Elton at his two passengers, his frown deepening as he took in their appearance His eyes seemed to linger on the Jeep. “Who’s this with you?”

  “Ah, these are some...associates of mine. Informants. You’ll understand if I don’t divulge their registry information, of course.”

  “Hello,” Nathan called from inside the Jeep, leaning out the side of the car to wave. Cora tugged on his arm and frowned nervously at him.

  Phillip only grunted in response, returning his eyes to Elton. “What precisely is the nature of your private business, Mr. Willis, that you require both informants and the services of a needle-woman? They’re rather unsavory company.”

  “As far as I’m aware, unsavory does not yet mean illegal,” Elton said. “If you’re very concerned, you may contact my Magister. If it goes against your scruples to provide me with what I’ve asked for, say so that I can be on my way and may acquire it by other means.”

  “You tell him, Elton,” Nathan shouted from the Jee
p, and Cora laughed despite herself and pulled at his shirt again to shush him.

  “I had hoped you would be honest,” Phillip said. “I find it especially interesting that a man whose Magistrate thinks is on personal holiday would be impersonating a federal agent and using his influence to investigate dead bodies.”

  Elton frowned, and Nathan snorted behind him and muttered, “Busted.”

  “This is my district, Mr. Willis,” Phillip went on. “Did you think I wouldn’t know what was happening in it?” He lifted a hand to raise a barrier around them, shielding them from the prying eyes of any passing mundanes, and glanced past the other man’s shoulder. “The Vancouver Magistrate seemed to think you would soon be bringing them a very dangerous individual; odd that you should take the time for...personal affairs while responsible for such a charge. Shall I guess which one of your companions it is?”

  “Keep your nose out of it, Phillip,” Nathan called.

  “When they told me who you were after, I almost didn’t believe them,” Phillip said, unperturbed by Nathan’s interjection. “It wasn’t until I paid a visit to an old acquaintance and found the apartment abandoned that I put the pieces together.” His eyes locked onto Nathan’s, and a slow grin grew on the other man’s face as he stood up in the back seat and leaned his arms on the top of the roll bar. “To think you’ve been living under my nose all this time. You had me fooled, Moore.”

  Nathan dropped down from the Jeep and moved to stand beside Elton, idly touching the beads on his bracelet as he watched the man across from them. “Well, all it took was a decent Chaser to find me, Phillip. You looked me in the face for years and never knew me. They pay you to do this job?”

  Phillip scowled at him, his eyes moving to the bracelet on Nathan’s wrist and then to Elton’s face. “Idiot! You’ve let him keep his groundings? What’s going on here? You’re working with him? You know he’ll kill us all!”

  “I told you it was complicated,” Elton argued, holding out a hand to keep Nathan from moving forward any further. “There’s no reason to make a scene. It’s under control. He’s under control,” he added with a quick frown in Nathan’s direction.