“Jesus,” I gasp, hiding my face with Ian’s shoulder.
“They're just mannequins,” Ian whispers in my ear, his hand running up and down my back. “This room is inspired by Jack the Ripper.
“Oh, of course,” I quietly replied, straightening up. Thankfully the dim lighting hides the blush I’m sure I have from the heat in my cheeks. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting that. I was figuring there would be something more along the lines of hearts and cupids in the tunnel of love.”
“You’d think so,” Ian chuckles. “And some rides are like that. Others have a darker theme, like this one. They were originally designed in a time when it wasn’t socially acceptable for unmarried couples to have physical contact. Rides like this one gave them both privacy and an excuse to cling together.
“I guess that makes sense,” I smile at him, glancing back at the dark tableau. Just as we started to turn the corner, the male mannequin turned its head towards us and started to rise. “Holy shit,” I gasp, grabbing Ian’s leg. “It’s moving!”
“Don’t worry. It’s either an animatronic or an actor,” Ian reassures. “A big scare for the first room.”
“Of course,” I nod, settle back against the seat. The next room isn’t quite as gory, although it’s definitely just as horrifying. A woman in 17th century period clothes stands in the center of the room, tied to a stake surrounded by flames; her mouth hangs open in a silent scream. She’s surrounded by a crowd of similarly dressed onlookers.
“Kill the witch! Kill the witch!” Voices chant through hidden speakers.
“Witch burnings,” Ian spit out, the disgust clear in his voice.
“Think she was a Magi?” I ask, unable to take my eyes from the scene. I know it’s not real. Just another scene with actors, animatronics, mannequins, or whatever. But seeing it in front of me... Well it drives home everything the twins told me about the Magi being persecuted and driven into hiding in a way that just hearing them talk about it hadn’t.
“Realistically?” Ian says slowly, as though giving the question serious thought. “I’m sure some of the victims were Magi, but I think more were probably innocents. People grabbed for being different, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or who had enemies who used the Great Church to do their dirty work. It makes me sick to think about it…” His voice trails off, and I finally tear my gaze away from the display to look at Ian. The flickering flames illuminate a trail of tears down his cheeks.
“Oh, Ian,” I whisper, hugging him tightly.
“Shit,” he groans, wiping away the tears. “Sorry, seeing this, it just…”
“Hey, it’s ok,” I say with what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I feel the same way. It’s sick what people will do to each other.” I breathe a sigh of relief as we float out of the room and the chanting fades away. “No offense to your Uncle, but this is a horrible place to meet.”
“Sorry, Emmy. It’s been so many years since we’ve been out here; I’d forgotten the details of this ride.”
“It’s not your fault, Ian. After all, you didn’t design the ride. Besides it can’t go on to much longer, it feels like we’ve been in here forever already.”
“Right,” Ian agrees, giving me a final squeeze before sitting back.
Up ahead the tunnel is already opening up and the next room comes into view. A foggy graveyard fills the scene, with a traditional looking haunted house sitting on a hill in the distance. Two figures wielding shovels are frozen midway through digging up a grave, while a third holds a lantern in one hand and a stake in the other.
“Vampire Hunters?” I ask, surprised that after the two clearly historically inspired scenes, they’d gone with this one, although I suppose vampire legends were as old as time. Whoever designed the scene clearly had a sense of irony, because hidden behind the crypt was a mannequin clearly meant to represent a classic movie vampire right down to the cape.
Halfway through the room, a man dressed in all black jumps into the boat. I gasp, half a second from screaming when Ian claps his hand over my mouth.
“Is this the girl?” The stranger asks Ian. Between the fog and shadows in the dark room, it is impossible to make out his features. Although I get the impression of age and a glimpse grey hair. I’m tempted to lower my shields and feel him out, but I decide against it. Ian and Jared trust him, and that is enough for me. I don’t want to risk finding out what other emotion might be lingering in the room from previous riders.
“Yes, this is our girlfriend.”
Wait, what? Since when am I ‘their’ girlfriend? I twist to look at Ian, but his attention is firmly on the man.
The stranger turns to me, and I find myself automatically sitting up straighter. “The boys tell me you need some help. Is that right, Girly?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. “I really do.”
“Give me your hand.” He orders, holding out his right hand.
“What?” I blink in surprise.
“Just do it,” Ian whispers in my ear, while nudging me encouragingly.
I slide my hand into his and a flood of energy hits me like a shock wave. OMG, he's got to be a Magi. The power flowing from him sends my senses spinning. But unlike Mom’s creepy lawyer, he feels bright, pure and reassuring. After a moment he releases my hand, but it takes a minute for my head to clear.
“Well, Girly, you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll be in touch.” With that he jumps from the boat and disappears into the darkness.
Shaking my head to clear the lingering fog, look around. I’m shocked to discover we’re no longer in the graveyard room. I glance at the new scene, taking in the thick forest. In the center, a pack of wolves gather in a clearing. Off to the side, an abnormally hairy man with glistening fangs and long claws is on his knees. He appears to be halfway through shifting from a man to a wolf, or possibly the other way around. After the vampire hunters in the last room, I suppose werewolves would be the next logical progression.
“So that went well... Right?” I ask, looking at Ian. He squeezes my shoulder and his cool steady energy flows over me.
“It went great, Emmy.” He assures. “He wouldn’t have said he’d be in touch otherwise.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Ian. I don’t know what I'd do without you. Without all of you.” I rest my head on his shoulder, letting myself enjoy the comfort of his energy. With the lawyer problem solved, another weight lifting from my shoulders, and for the first time since my birthday I finally felt truly relaxed.
“You don’t have to thank me, Emmy. We’re family.” His lips brushed my forehead, and I’m grateful for the darkness that hides my blush. A comfortable silence descends and the last few rooms pass by in a dream like haze. An Egyptian tomb with its cursed mummy, the mad scientist in his laboratory bringing his new creation to life, and finally the evil cult conducting a blood sacrifice.
Before I know it, sunlight filters in as the end of the tunnel draws closer. With a reluctant sigh, I sit up straight and slid my hand into his.
The boat lazily eases its way to the starting point, and the same dark haired employee waits to help us off. I reinforce my shields before reaching for his offered hand.
“Allow me, Pixie,” Jared smirks, shouldering the employee aside and taking my hand. Laughing, I let him help me from the boat.
“Hey, you can’t do that,” the employee growls, his voice surprisingly deep.
“I’m so sorry,” Ian interjects, climbing out of the boat without assistance. “My brother can’t stand it when strangers touch our girl.” He gives the employee an apologetic smile. “We’ll get out of your way now. Sorry to cause any trouble.”
Ian grabs both Jared and I by the arm and drags us away from the ride before the employee has a chance to react. Once we’ve lost ourselves in the crowd, Ian releases Jared with a sigh.
“Thanks for the rescue, big brother.” Jared smirks, spinning around so he’s walking backwards in front of us. OMG he’s going to run into someone. “And now that
the business part of this visit is over, it’s time to have some fun. So, which will it be? Food, games, or more rides?”
“Food! Definitely food!” Grinning, I link my arm through Ian’s. “So come on Ocean, lead the way!”
Monday, November 16th
∞
Thank God this is the last time I have to set foot inside this nasty place. The red brick facade may look pretty on the outside, but it hides the nastiness of the people within. Maybe it is my imagination, but it feels like the creepy energy from the office has stretched outside and is pressing against the car. I take a deep breath and imagine the golden shields surrounding me becoming thicker until the feeling of oppression dissipates.
Sighing with relief, I glance at the folder of paperwork in my lap, reassured by their presence. “Uncle Frank” had sent the documents electronically with instructions to print them and have Ian give them to my former lawyer, acting as his intern.
“Ready, Emmy?” Ian asks. He takes my hand and entwines his fingers with mine.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, forcing a smile.
“Just remember the plan. I’ll do the talking as Uncle Frank’s representative,” Ian reassures.
“I know,” I smile, turning in my seat so I can admire the two of them. “I can’t believe you guys went to the trouble of getting dressed up for this.”
“Hey, we’ve got to look the part if we’re going in there representing your new Lawyer.” Clayton grins. “Besides, it’s not often I get to dust off this suit.”
“That’s right Emmy,” Ian agrees squeezing my hand again. “We want this to go as smoothly as possible.”
“Thanks guys, I really don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”
“Hey, you’ve got this, Trouble. And I’m here to watch your backs,” Clayton says, leaning forward between the two seats. “Oh shit, I almost forgot.” His head disappeared for a minute while he rummaged around in the back seat. Finally he pops forward again, and shoves his fist through the gap between the seats. He turns his hand over and opens his fist. On his palm lay two black crystals.
“What are these?” I asked, taking the stones.
“Black tourmaline. Samil gave them to me. He said they would help protect us from any negative energy here. Those are for you two. I’ve got mine in my pocket already.”
Ian picks one from my hand and slips it into his breast pocket, then takes the paperwork from me.
“Hopefully they won’t be necessary, but it’s better safe than sorry.” I say, flashing Clayton a smile. “Alright guys, let's do this.”
Slipping my bag over my shoulder, I open the car door. Clayton’s already there, offering me a hand. He helps me from the car with his signature smile, and we wait together for Ian to join us on the sidewalk. Clayton looks like a high priced security guard in his vintage black herringbone suit paired with a pale pink shirt.
Ian straightens his jacket. In his navy blue suit with his hair slicked back, he looks good, professional even. He gives me one of his shy smiles and puts his hand on my elbow. The comforting feel of his energy brushes over me as we head up the stairs. Clayton falls into step behind us, his protective aura pressing against my back.
Once we reach the top stair, Ian opens the door and steps inside first, as though to provide a shield. I follow, glad for once, that the oppressive reception room with its old fashion furniture is empty of other clients. Clayton follows on our heels, closing the door behind him.
Ms. Congeniality sits behind the reception desk as usual. Apparently sallow yellow is the bad fashion choice of the day. I wonder if her whole wardrobe is full of frighteningly colored blazers with huge shoulder pads. Although I am almost impressed to note that she has once again managed to find an eyeshadow the same horrific shade.
With Ian’s hand on my elbow, we walk to the desk together.
“Excuse me, Ma’am, we have a 4:00 appointment with Ms. Blackmore,” Ian says politely.
“Name?” She demands without looking up from her monitor.
“Emilienne Langmore.” I sigh in exasperation. Like there were so many people just waiting to see the lawyer.
Ms. Congeniality looks up at us with pinched lips. Seeing Clayton, her eyes widen in alarm. She turns away from us and fumbles with the phone, and I frown, biting my lower lip to keep from saying something nasty. I try to imagine how outside eyes might view Clayton, his 6’3” frame of hockey-star muscle, his chocolate skin, and his shaved head. I suppose he might - or must - seem intimidating, but in my mind he is just my Papa Bear, my protector. How much people miss by focusing on how others look on the outside rather than who they are on the inside.
“Ms. Blackmore, you’re needed in reception immediately.” She speaks quickly, with a quaver in her voice, and then slams down the receiver without waiting for a response. She turns back to glare at us, taping her nails against the counter.
In less than a minute, Ms. Blackwell appears. She is wearing a navy blue power suit with her hair pulled back in the same tight bun. She has a fixed smile on her lips but it doesn’t reach her cold eyes as they sweep over us. I feel a chill run up and down my spine.
“Emilienne, I’m so glad you were able to arrive promptly for your appointment,” she says, hand outstretched. “I’m sure your.... friends won’t mind waiting out here while we finish our business.”
“Ms. Blackmore, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ian interrupts, stepping between us to take her hand. “I’m Ian Stewart, and this is my associate Clayton Gabbro. We’re here on behalf of Deriseno and Associates. We have taken over managing Ms. Langmore’s affairs. I have all the necessary paperwork here for you, along with our request for the files for Ms. Langmore, her trust, and all other associated documentation.” Ian smiles and offers her the file.
Her expression doesn’t change as she takes the file and slowly flipped through the pages, but I can feel anger radiating from her, the oppressive atmosphere bearing down on me. I shift closer to Clayton, and his protective energy rolls over me, pushing back against the darkness.
After what feels like forever, she finally closes the file and looks up at Ian, her hard smile still plastered on her face.
“Well, Mr. Stewart, everything appears to be in order. We’d be happy to send you th…”
“Actually Ms. Blackmore, since everything has already been put in motion, we’d like to get a copy of the files today while I’m here. Save you the trouble and expense of sending them by courier.” Ian gives her that disarmingly shy smile of his. Her smile fades to a tight line of disapproval as she slowly nods.
“If you can give my assistant fifteen minutes, she’ll make the copies for you.”
“Of course,” Ian inclines his head. “Thank you.” He crosses the lobby and takes a seat on the antique looking couch.
“Rebecca, see to the copies, please. Good day to you, Emilienne, Mr. Stewart, Mr. Gabbro,” Ms. Blackmore manages to give us a final tight smile before turning and heading back down the hallway, with Ms. Congeniality hot on her heels.
With a sigh, I sit next to Ian, our thighs pressed together. Clayton sinks down on the other side of me, draping his arm across the back of the couch. His hand rests on my shoulder, his steady protective energy mingling with Ian’s, cool and reassuring aura as they wrap around me like a blanket. We waited in silence, unwilling to be overheard discussing anything important in the office. The longer we sit there, the heavier the atmosphere becomes.
By the time the clock on the wall behind the reception desk shows 10 minutes have passed, the atmosphere is so bad, it feels like the golden bubble I had originally envisioned as my shield is now a stifling second skin. I can barely feel the guys’ energy at all. God, this is awful!
I slip my hand into Ian’s, holding it tightly. Slowly Ian turns to look at me, his eyes slightly unfocused. Oh god, if it feels this bad to me with my shields up, then how much worse must it be for him.
I turn to look at Clayton, squeezing his knee to get his attention. Clay
ton shakes his head, as though just waking up, and then looks at me with a frown.
I leaned towards Clayton and whispered in his ear. “Give me your hand.” His brow furrows for a moment, before he finally moves his hand from the back of the couch and takes my hand.
With our hands joined, I feel a faint trickle of their energy. We’ve only been here for maybe 15 minutes total. Fuck, I need to do something, but what? Should we leave? Ugh, I don’t want to give up, and I don’t ever want to have to deal with these people again. What other options do we have...?
The shield! I need to rebuild it. No, I need to expand it so it protects the guys, too. Whatever is causing this negative energy is affecting them too.
I take a deep breath and I close my eyes, focusing on where the guys’ energy brushes against my hands. I weave the pale blue and white of Ian’s energy, the swirling greens of Clayton’s, and my golden threads into a single cord. Once the three of us are connected, the energy flow feels stronger. It only takes a moment for the combined energy to surround the three of us. That done, I switch my focus to pushing the energy outwards. I expand the shield, so it grows larger and larger until I can no longer feel heavy pressure of negative energy. Blowing out a harsh breath, I sag in relief.
I take a moment to center, and then open my eyes to check the clock again. It felt like I’d been struggling with the shield for hours, but only a couple minutes had passed.
“What was that?” Clayton whispers, leaning in so that Ian can hear him.
“Magic?” I shrug. “You guys are the experts here, not me.”
“Well, it was definitely something,” Ian says, frowning.
“Part of it was me,” I admit. “I had to combine our energy to make a shield big enough to block out most of it.”
“Damn, Trouble. Are you ok?”
Wave of Truth (The Magic Catalyst Chronicles Book 4) Page 6
