“That’s different,” Jakes said, casting a sideways glance at me. He lowered his eyes as he spoke. “The Elder demanded service.”
“Demanded?”
Jakes nodded. “We’re to protect the gate, serve as its guardian. If hunters were to come through, we were to prevent it, destroy the gate if needed.”
I hadn’t realized that, had we not managed to bury it again, the shifters intended to destroy it. But I also wasn’t sure I bought that. Had Jakes been able to destroy the gate, he wouldn’t have needed my help. We wouldn’t have needed to race through the park trying to trigger each of the sculptures before the hunters streamed from the gate. So what he said wasn’t completely believable.
On the other hand, there was no debating how powerful the shifters were. If anyone could destroy the gate, why not Jakes and the other shifters? Who else would be willing to go up against the hunters, creatures straight out of a nightmare whose only desire seemed to be sucking the magical energy out of painters?
But I thought Jakes would help. From what I’d seen between him and Devan, there was some sort of connection. Maybe not much yet, but enough to know that it could develop. As much as it bothered me, I needed to use that potential.
“This guy,” I said, tapping the counter where I’d made Adazi’s mark, “has Devan. And if we don’t get to him before he crosses back, she’ll be handed over to her father.”
“She made her choice by coming here. She knew what would happen if her father found her. Now that he has and has sent this Adazi for her, there is nothing I can do.”
“Can or will?”
“Does it matter?”
I closed my eyes tightly and let out a frustrated breath. “Do you want to know why she left?” I leaned in as I spoke, and my voice got a little more heated than it needed to. Talking about Devan got me worked up, especially when it came to doing whatever I could to save her.
“That’s her business,” he said.
“Yeah. And I wouldn’t tell you if I had any other choice, but seeing how you refuse to help, here it is. The Trelking has offered Devan to the Druist Mage.”
Living among Devan and her people, saying something like that didn’t feel so strange, but standing here in the diner, with Kacey working at the plates and the jukebox humming along with some dance song, that sounded really odd, even to me.
Jakes stiffened, but didn’t lift his eyes.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” I asked. “You know what the Druist Mage will do once he has Devan. You know the power he wields already and what he might do when he weds the heir to the Te’alan. Whatever peace he claims will be but window dressing. The Trelking might find peace, but others will not.” I pushed back the anger rising within me. It served no purpose. “My father might have asked you to guard the gates, but that doesn’t mean that’s all you’ve ever done.” I lowered my voice. “I’ve heard of your kind on the other side. And I suspect if I went through the gate in the park, there would be others like you in those places, too. You could help Devan. You want to help Devan. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Jakes inhaled slowly. “You’re not wrong, Morris, but you don’t know half of what you think you do.” He turned and fixed me with wolfish eyes. The hairs on my neck stood on end. “You think she’s the only one who must make sacrifices for safety?” Jakes pushed back from the counter and stood. He towered over me normally, but with the simmering anger coming off him, he seemed even taller. “You have not lived long enough to know what it means to make sacrifices. The Alpha—my father—sacrificed by coming here. That was a price he was willing to pay and he paid gladly. We all do. And Devan may not wish to be joined to the Druist, but if that is what it takes for her world to find peace, then she has the responsibility to do so.”
He turned and walked away from me.
As the door slipped closed behind him, Tom came out from the kitchen carrying Jakes’s lunch. A massive steak sandwich steamed on the plate. Tom looked from me to Taylor and then to the door. He shook his head and turned back to the kitchen.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing Taylor’s arm.
Taylor didn’t resist, and we left the Rooster.
* * *
I stood in the center of the park near the plaza, staring out at Agony of the Chase, searching for answers. Answers didn’t come, not for me. When I looked at the sculpture my father had made, I saw half-man, half demon. Others considered him an anguished man made in my father’s unique style. I guess I saw that, but there was more to it than that. There was a darkness to the sculpture that few ever wanted to admit, a darkness I could feel when I got close enough.
Taylor sat on one of the rough cement benches that rimmed the plaza, making a sketch of Agony. I turned my attention away from the sculpture. I had come here for a different purpose.
Conlin Park might once have been your typical garden-variety park. It had a low river-rock wall working around the perimeter. Mature oak and pine trees grew throughout. Even the sculpture gave it a park-like feel, especially with the water feature that had been added after my father placed it here, designed so water spilled out of Agony’s mouth and pooled in the small reflecting pool near the center of the plaza. But there were other things about the park that were different. Power worked beneath the surface, only detected by those with the ability to draw upon it. There was something about the arrangement of the sculptures that fixed that power, holding it here. I hadn’t known until Taylor came to town that there was even more to the park. It wasn’t until she revealed the gateway near the fountain of Agony that I understood. But that was buried now, protected with power so the hunters could not return.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t use the power here.
In the time since I returned to Conlin, I’d been placing various patterns around the park. Mostly because there was no doubting the power that resided here. I wanted to be able to control it if needed. If I could tap into it, maybe I could prevent others from doing the same. Had I been skilled enough—or better prepared—I might even have prevented Taylor from summoning the gateway in the first place, but how was I to know what my father had hidden? It wasn’t as if he ever shared things like that with me.
But I could use the power for my own purpose. And right now, my purpose was to find Devan.
I made my way around the center of the plaza, creating a massive circle with brown ink all the way around. Ringing Agony, I’d found, seemed to augment anything I did within the circle, almost as if the sculpture had been placed here for that purpose. I sealed the circle with an infusion of power. It shimmered away from me.
The next part would be the hardest. It would require a deliberate infusion of power through Adazi’s pattern. Each time I even drew it, the pattern gave me a queasy sense, like my stomach was coated in oil. It was something almost like an arcane pattern, but a type I didn’t fully understand. I would have to infuse a considerable amount of power into it to make this work.
I knelt opposite Agony, still surrounded by my circle of power. Choosing the right ink would be almost as tricky. Red would draw power, but without knowing precisely what would happen, it could rebound on me and leave me incapacitated. Black was not a good idea, either, for the same reasons. I had brown and green with me, but neither felt right.
“Taylor.”
She looked up and set down her pencil when I called her name. “I’m still not sure this is the best idea. I’ve seen the power that can be pulled through this place. Are you really sure you want to risk that without knowing what will happen?”
“Not really. But I need to. And I need your blue ink.”
Blue connected to the sky and heavens, but also to thought and focus. That seemed more fitting with what I wanted to accomplish.
Taylor handed me her bottle of ink. I pried the stopper off and dipped a finger into the ink before handing it back to her. She stepped away. I didn’t blame her for that. Who knew what would happen when I completed this pattern?
If it didn’t involve Deva
n, I might have suggested Taylor be the one to make the pattern. As an artist, her skills surpassed anything I could do, but finding Devan would take a personal approach, and would only work if Adazi hadn’t managed to get her to the other side already. As long as Jakes and his folk held the gateways, the crossing should remain closed.
I hoped.
Using my index finger—in painting, even the finger used made a difference—I very carefully made Adazi’s mark. Then I used a pinch of green ink and made an equilateral triangle around the mark. Most of the time, I worked in a single color. The combination of inks could be challenging, but I’d had some experience with this type of painting before. Doing it this way would allow me to divide my focus, and if it worked, might allow me to track Adazi. And, if I got lucky, might even let me prevent him from stepping to the other side. That last part was more challenging.
I drew in a deep breath and focused, pulling as much of my will into me as I could manage and surging it through both patterns at the same time. With a practiced effort, I split the focus, sending it through them equally. A rolling, nauseated sense struck me as I pushed through Adazi’s mark and nearly destabilized what I did. But the other, the anchoring triangle, held me in place, secured me here. Distantly, I was supported by the brown circle of power I’d created around me.
Adazi’s mark seemed to hum.
I cocked my head, listening. The tracing wafted away from me, almost like the fading notes of a song.
“What did you do?” Taylor asked.
“A tracking pattern,” I said.
“How? You’d have to work more than one pattern at the same time for that.”
I nodded. “Both Adazi’s mark and the summoning circle.”
She made her way over to me and studied the markings I’d made on the ground. “But you’re also anchoring it at the same time.”
“Yeah. If I didn’t, I’d lose the mark. Have you ever tried making an Adazi mark? There’s something slimy about it. I just don’t care for it.”
Even now, the mark was giving me that queasy sense in the pit of my stomach. The anchoring helped, but didn’t eliminate it.
Taylor studied me like she was trying to understand a new pattern. I turned away and listened for the way the Adazi mark called on me. Now that I had it anchored, I could follow it. Hopefully, it would lead me to Devan.
“Come on,” I said to Taylor.
“Where are we going?”
“To find Adazi.”
* * *
We rode in Big Red, the faded red Ford F150, cruising on old Highway 16 as it led away from Conlin. Keeping myself attuned to the mark required an effort of will, but I’d done something like it before. With focus, I could track it. Marks anchored using the technique I had employed created something like a sound, each one distinct. This one had a low hum, like when you stand too close to power lines. With the humming, I managed to trace the pattern all the way out of Conlin.
“Where do you think it’s leading us?” Taylor asked.
She sat next to me on the seat, her seatbelt snugged tight across her chest. A leather bag clutched on her lap, as if I might steal it. Inside, I suspected were all her inks and a few books she used to study. For all I knew, she’d stolen another one from my basement.
“The gateway.”
“I thought the shifters were watching the gateways.”
“They are,” I said, checking the pockets of my duster. I had a few charms, maybe enough to rescue Devan, and a few waxed satchels of ink. “But I don’t know if they’re aware of all of them.”
“And you know this one?”
I slowed as the pull from the pattern shifted. In the distance, a copse of trees surrounded an old barn the same color as the truck. Peeling paint left it looking weathered. Part of the roof had caved in.
“Yeah,” I answered. “It’s how Devan and I reached Conlin.”
“You came through a gateway to Conlin?” She leaned on the door, her elbow slipping past the rolled down window. Wind whistled around her and blew against her blue-tinted hair.
“Not like the one in the park. But yeah.”
She pulled her eyes away from the barn. She could feel it, the same as I did, the way the gateway called to us. “Why do you think there’d be a gateway to Conlin here?”
I squeezed the wheel, the engravings made by Devan rubbing beneath my hand as I did. “Maybe the same reason there’s a gate in the middle of the park.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “The Elder?”
“And the same reason there are other crossings around Conlin needing guardians to keep them safe.”
I didn’t think my father was responsible for everything, but the fact that there were so many around Conlin did bother me.
“If you knew about this gateway, why didn’t we come here first?”
I breathed out, slowly releasing my grip on the wheel. As we closed in on the barn, I felt the draw from Adazi’s mark as it hummed in the air. “Because this wasn’t supposed to work to return.”
“What do you mean? If you came through to get here, why wouldn’t it work?”
My hands squeezed the wheel again until my knuckles whitened. “Because I closed it from the other side.” I took a deep breath. “When we came through, it was intended to be one way. Devan didn’t want to go back. Returning meant she would have to do something she refused to do. And if I went back, I would be forced to resume my nine and ninety year sentence with the Trelking. So we agreed that we wouldn’t return. To keep her father from following, I placed a series of patterns such that when I disappeared, the gateway would collapse in on itself.”
“That would take more power than a tagger—” A flush washed over her as she caught herself. “What did you do?”
“Does it matter? If Adazi is here, whatever I did on the other side didn’t work.” I pulled up alongside the barn and put the truck in park. Before getting out, I turned to Taylor. “You should probably stay here. If this goes the wrong way, you’ll need to get out of here. Find Jakes and tell him what happened. The protections in the truck should help keep you safe.”
Taylor touched my hand. My skin tingled where she touched me. Another time, and I might wish her hand could linger. As it was, there was too much at stake.
“You need my help.”
“I might. But if you come, you’re just as likely to get hurt. You’re an Arcanus painter. Adazi is…well, I don’t know what he is. Not Arcanus. The things he knows are dangerous. There are patterns and intents that even I haven’t been able to understand, and I’ve worked for the last ten years trying to learn things he knows so I can reverse the effects. So, please. Stay here.”
As she nodded, the skin on my arms began to tighten. Power built around us. The air sizzled with it.
“Shit,” I said, grabbing Taylor and yanking her along with me out of the truck.
The blast hit a moment later.
5
Surprisingly, the truck didn’t fare too badly. All the patterns and charms that Devan had worked into the truck itself in the time since we’d come to Conlin seemed to make a difference. A blast of fire and clear white light struck at the truck. Tires smoked a little, and I thought some of the paint peeled, though to be honest, with that old truck, it was hard to tell. The body remained intact. And, amazingly enough, so did the windshield. I’d have to find out from Devan what she’d done.
First, I had to reach her.
“Are you all right?” I asked Taylor.
We crouched along the edge of the barn. Energy built in the air again as Adazi worked another pattern. Taylor held a bottle of ink in one hand, a paintbrush in the other. Seeing it, I laughed.
Taylor shot me a look of irritation.
“You really think you’re going to have time to sit down and brush out a scene?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You think this is the first time I’ve come under attack?”
Now that she said it, I didn’t. I’d seen how she faced the shifters without fli
nching. That told me that Taylor had a little more resourcefulness than I gave her credit for, and more than most who came through Arcanus could claim. I wanted to say something clever or badass. Instead, I said, “Be careful.”
I nudged past her, crawling along the ground with a charm in hand. This one was in the shape of a long rectangle. Well, as long as Devan’s charms got. With it, I could focus a shot of ink, enough to either contain or incapacitate, depending on how I chose to use it. It had many uses, serving as a sort of magical gun. The only downside was that it was a single fire. That’s why I had three. I wished I had the octagonal charm she’d made, but hadn’t thought to grab it.
Shadows shifted in the barn. Light streamed through the area where the roof had collapsed. The power surging through the air continued to build.
Somehow, Adazi targeted us.
“Taylor,” I said, motioning in the air to create a circle.
She nodded and quickly created a protective circle around us. It surged into place with a shimmer.
I breathed out. I could have made the protective circle, but doing so would weaken me. I didn’t have the raw talent someone like Taylor had. What I did have was experience and knowledge gained from living among the Te’alan.
Most people would call them elves, but they didn’t have the pointy ears and weren’t really small like in the stories. Maybe they’d be better classified as fairies, though that wasn’t really quite right, either.
When the next blast struck us, it dissipated off the circle Taylor had made. She winced as it did. I knew from experience how it felt when one of those blasts struck your protections. It was as if part of your insides burned. A strong painter could handle it, but you felt it. That was the other reason I’d wanted Taylor to make the circle.
Before another attack could come, I crept away from the circle, breaking it as I did.
“Where are you going?” Taylor asked.
“Be ready,” I said.
I grabbed a different charm, lifting it overhead as I pushed down on its trigger. As pale, purple ink exploded above me, I infused power through it.
The Painter Mage: Books 1-3 Page 20
