Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  It made sense. All of it. He sighed. “Great, and there’s nothing I can do to find her.”

  Sharp didn’t reply.

  Noting his silence, Bert said, “Right?”

  “Well,” Sharp said, his voice unusually timid. “There might be one thing you can do.”

  “Which is?”

  “You have two advantages that her hunters don’t have. You’re in love with her. There’s power in that. And if what she felt for you was the least bit genuine, then that connection is even stronger. You know that.”

  Bert hadn’t considered that, but Sharp was right. Yet, with her veil up, he didn’t think he could tap into their connection. He’d be blocked. “What’s the second thing I have that they don’t?”

  “Me.”

  “And how does that help?”

  Sharp didn’t respond immediately and his hesitation made Bert nervous. “I can help you find her, Bert, but…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We know she’s using the object to enhance her power. And clearly the veil she’s using is beyond the abilities of some exceptionally badass dark wizards. To tap into your connection and break through is going to require some…unseemly magic. Not the kind of stuff someone at your level should know. Not the kind of stuff the Hand would take lightly. More like the kind of magic they’d string you up for.”

  Bert paused, taking it in. “Is it dark magic?”

  “Magic is never that simple, Bert. I know the Hand wouldn’t agree, and they’d have you believe it’s all clear cut… But no, it’s not dark magic per say, but yes, if the Hand finds out you’ll be in serious trouble. It won’t corrupt you or make you evil, but if they find out, at the very least you’ll be banned from practicing magic.”

  “What choice do I have?” Bert asked with a sigh. “If I don’t find her she’s going to get killed. I’m going to get killed. And if any of those ass-hats make good on their threats, my friends are going to get killed. I don’t know what to do, Sharp. If you have a better idea, I’m listening.”

  Again, Sharp was silent for a moment. “We’ll need a quiet place, candles, and sugar or salt.”

  Not bothering to question the strange list of ingredients, he headed into the house. Candles were easy. They were wizards, and as a result, occasionally the power got knocked out. So he always kept candles on hand. And he had salt and sugar in the kitchen. He gathered up the supplies and headed for his room.

  Kevin met him in the hall. “Hey, I thought I heard you pull up.”

  “We need total privacy,” Sharp said. “No interruptions.”

  “Sorry about your truck, Kevin,” Bert said, stepping past. “I’m going to find it and I’ll figure out what the hell is going on. I just need a bit. Make sure no one comes in my room for any reason.”

  Kevin gave him an odd look and said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll make sure no one goes in.”

  “Thanks.” Bert darted past him, slammed the door shut behind him, and engaged the lock.

  “Okay, Sharp, tell me what to do.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “We’ve been over this. Unless you have a better idea, then yes, I want to do this.”

  “All right, Bert,” Sharp said, sighing. “We need to create a circle of power.”

  In wizard school he’d learned the basic concepts, and Uncle Tony had required him to build a few simple circles, but his knowledge and experience was limited. The idea was to create a perfectly enclosed shape, like the infamous pentagram. The idea was that a magic circle could amplify a mage’s spell, or it could be used like a prison cell, or it could be a trap. There were any number of uses that were out of his bailiwick. Additionally, certain circles worked better for certain spells. And, to make it even muddier, it was said that some wizards spent years developing their unique circles which could amplify their powers.

  It was all over Bert’s head, but one thing he did know for sure was that building a circle was dangerous. If the circle wasn’t perfect when he fired it to life with magic, it’d explode like a lightning bolt hitting a transformer. Raw power would lash out like a bomb. The only good news was that he wouldn’t have to worry about his enemies killing him.

  Fortunately, Sharp guided him through the entire process, constantly critiquing and ensuring every granule of salt was perfectly placed. When the salt shaker was empty, he switched to the bag of sugar. The design was unlike any Bert had seen. The outside was circular, but within was a catawampus star, crooked and misshapen. None of the angles were of equal depth. Two of the points pushed outside the perimeter while the rest stayed in the interior. There was a jagged half-moon on one side and a box shape on the other with a circle inside it.

  When Sharp informed him it was done, he felt sure he’d gotten something wrong, but the sword ignored his concerns and told him where to place the candles. One for each point of the star. Sharp ensured he placed them just right, having him readjust several. He wasn’t used to the sword taking anything so seriously. It was unnerving.

  When the last candle was placed, Sharp said, “Okay, hold me over the circle so I can get a good look.”

  Bert complied and waited until Sharp said, “It’s perfect. Let’s do this.”

  Bet blinked and took another look. “Sharp, it looks like something a first grader drew. Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Now sit down and cross your legs like a good little toddler.”

  Bert grumbled but sat down and crossed his legs. “Should we light the candles?”

  “Just shut up and do what I say,” Sharp replied. “I know what I’m doing. Now, lay your hand on my blade.”

  “Okay,” Bert replied. Holding the hilt with his right hand, he grasped the blade with his left. The sword jerked against his hand, slicing a gash across his palm. He gasped and said, “What the hell, Sharp?”

  “Calm your manboobs,” Sharp replied. “Now, hold me out over the circle.”

  Bert did as he was told and the sword pulled free of his grip and gently floated downward, landing directly in the center of the circle. For the first time he realized that, despite the crisscrossing patterns, when Sharp lay in the center, there was a perfect design around him, enclosing him in his own circle within.

  “Okay, now I need you to sprinkle your blood over my blade.”

  “Wait, what?” Bert asked. “This involves blood magic?”

  “Just a little,” Sharp said with a sigh. “It’s not really blood magic. Think of it like this, your blood is necessary to establish the connection between you and Lilith. And if we have to use your blood for that, why not let it help power the spell? It’d be wasteful not to. And the spell wouldn’t be strong enough.”

  “That second part is literally the definition of blood magic, Sharp,” Bert replied, raising his bloody fist. Crimson streams ran down his hand and dripped to the carpet. He sighed and pushed his hand out over the circle. “Well you were definitely right about one thing. The Hand won’t like this at all.”

  “You said you didn’t have a choice.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then quit crying and let’s get on with it.”

  Bert opened his hand and watched the blood run free. It oozed from the cut, slid down his hand, and dripped to the blade below. Where it touched the sword it sizzled, like butter on a frying pan.

  “That’s enough,” Sharp said. “Get your hand back!”

  Bert drew his hand back, acutely aware that something was happening. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but he could sense power beyond his control. The air thickened, weighing him down like he was being pressed in from all sides. A vortex seemed to be blowing around him and the lights went out, bathing him in darkness.

  Sharp’s blade took on a red hue, glowing in the darkness like a neon sign. Then flames shot out from beneath the sword and jumped from candle to candle until each was lit. Sharp’s hilt rose upward, leaving his blade pointed toward the ground, and he began to float. Now the b
lade glowed white. A white so bright Bert had to force his eyes away. But the circle, created with salt and sugar, began to glow in the same white light.

  Bert felt himself tremble and swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that whatever was at work in his bedroom, it was something he no business being a part of. Sharp had been right. This wasn’t something he should know how to do. Nor was it something he wanted to know how to do. His palms were slick and sweat beaded across his forehead. The vortex of air around him picked up speed, building until his hair was pushed over to one side. His pillows flew off his bed, followed by his sheets. Things were falling off shelves, banging against the walls and the floor. The walls felt like they were closing in on him and he struggled against his need to panic. Yet the pressure continued building. He wanted to scream.

  The candles began to float as well, slowly spinning around Sharp, building speed until they were but a blur.

  “Pay attention, Bert!” Sharp commanded. “When I say ‘go’ I want you to focus on Lilith. Focus on her and nothing else!”

  The candles spun faster. The walls felt closer. The vortex picked up speed. The pressure continued to grow. Sharp screamed, “Now! Think only of Lilith!”

  Bert closed his eyes and pictured her face. Her smile. Her dark hair. The curves of her body. The touch of her skin against his. The way she made his heart flutter. His need to find her. The searing pain in his gut that longed to cry out her name. Lilith.

  Sharp slammed into the floor, sinking all the way to the hilt as he released the full power of the spell in a blinding flash. Bert forced his eyes closed and tried to look away, but when he reopened them he was no longer in his room. Instead, he saw the sky. He glanced down and saw the roof of his house, but then he was flying, soaring past clouds at blinding speed. Below him the world became a blur of oranges, yellows, and reds as he rose above the trees. The Ozark mountains, bathed in fall colors, stretched out beneath him. Hills and mountains passed by in a blur, until finally, he began to slow.

  He could make out a body of water below which he assumed was Beaver Lake. In the distance he saw the one lane bridge, and knew he was correct. This vision had brought him outside of the small town of Beaver.

  Onward he went, gliding around a corner to a tree-covered embankment. His speed decreased further as he soared up through the trees and he knew where he was. He recognized the spot. Unless he was mistaken, he was being led toward an old cave that, as a teen, had been a popular spot for parties and romantic hideaways.

  As he drew nearer to the cave, his heart caught in his throat. Several figures were climbing toward the entrance, their bright costumes and white faces unmistakable. Clowns.

  He prayed she wouldn’t be inside, but he already knew she was. Why else would Sharp’s spell have brought him here?

  She was there. In the back of the cave, she sat alone, her legs crossed as though in meditation. Her jeans and t-shirt had been traded for a black robe, and across her lap was a wooden staff, much like his own.

  As the vision brought him to a stop just in front of her, she looked up, and for a moment he thought she could see him. But, no, he realized, turning around. It was the clowns. At least she knew they were coming.

  The first of their smiling faces appeared in the darkness, followed by the others. He turned back to Lilith and watched as she rose calmly to her feet. She grasped her staff in both hands, scowling with determination. He looked back at the clowns. Their smiles spread.

  Then he was being pulled back.

  As if in extreme rewind, a moment later he was back in his bedroom and trying not to vomit. He felt disoriented, like he’d just woken up from a nap. But what he’d seen hadn’t been a dream, he assured himself, as he looked at his ruined carpet. The symbol was burned into the floor along with melted wax, and a strange, rubbery burnt sulfur smell sifted through the air. The rest of the room looked like it’d been hit by a tsunami.

  Still trying to steady his breathing, he forced himself to his feet. He dug through the mess until he found his first aid kit and pulled out some gauze and tape.

  “Did you see her?” Sharp asked, while he tended his injured hand.

  “Yeah,” Bert replied, summoning the sword and his staff to his hands. “We’ve got to go.”

  He stormed out of his room and slammed the door behind him. He ran through his house, ignoring Kevin as he shouted questions after him. Out the front door, he hopped in the Beast and tore out of the driveway. Only one thought took precedence in his mind. Lilith was in trouble. He had to get to her.

  Chapter 37

  Kevin didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he wasn’t very happy about it. Why had Bert’s lady friend attacked him and stolen his truck? Why had Bert run into the house like a madman and demanded solitude? Then storm back out? And what the hell were those noises coming from his room a few minutes ago? Annoyed, Kevin stomped toward Bert’s room, determined to piece it all together.

  The rubbery burnt smell filtered into his nostrils from outside the door. When he opened it, the smell hit his nose like a sledgehammer. And the state of Bert’s room… His friend had never been known to keep it particularly clean, but this… It looked like it’d been hit by a tornado. Stuff was scattered everywhere.

  Then his eyes moved to the smoldering mess on the floor.

  He knew it was a magic circle, but didn’t have a clue what it was for. He’d never seen anything like it. A sour feeling hit the pit of his stomach and goose bumps crept across his flesh. This was bad.

  He called out to Jim with his mind.

  “What’s up man?” Jim replied.

  “I need you to come check something out.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Kevin replied, unsure what else to say. “Just get over here.”

  “On my way.”

  Kevin returned to stomping. His friends liked to joke about his stomp, but it helped him think. He wasn’t one to pry into other people’s business, but it wasn’t like Bert to be secretive. It also wasn’t like him to have girls over who stole trucks. Nor was it like him to burn holes in the carpet with magic. Bert always told him what was going on. But not this time. Why?

  Before he knew it, Jim walked through the front door.

  “Thanks for coming so fast,” Kevin said.

  “No problem,” Jim said, shrugging. “What’s up?”

  Kevin gave him the short version as he led him toward Bert’s room. As he opened the door, he said, “And then I found this.”

  Jim’s eyes widened in surprise at the mess and he said, “What’s that smell…”

  Jim’s words tapered off as his gaze fell on the magic circle. Jim adjusted his glasses and took another step forward, leaning over the circle.

  Kevin waited patiently for what felt like a reasonable amount of time and said, “Well?”

  “It’s a magic circle,” Jim replied evenly.

  “Well, I know that,” Kevin said, crossing his arms. “I was hoping you could give me a better idea of what it’s for. I’ve never known Bert to use a circle. I didn’t think he knew how.”

  “He doesn’t,” Jim said, a puzzled look on his face. “I have no idea what this was for, but it looks serious. I’ve never seen one like it. It’s so complex. How did Bert figure it out?”

  “Hell if I know.”

  “Look at it,” Jim said, pointing. “These outer lines are for amplifying and controlling massive amounts of energy. This is big wizard stuff. Not kid glove stuff like we can do.”

  Kevin’s brow furrowed in concern.

  Jim continued, “This was masterfully crafted. It had to be, or the amount of power it gathered would’ve blown the house apart.”

  “Really?” Kevin asked.

  “Absolutely. Look,” he said, pointing at the burnt salt lines. “It actually melted the circle itself. To even charge and activate this thing would require energy beyond Bert’s abilities.”

  Kevin felt a scowl forming on his face. “We need to f
ind out what’s going on.”

  Jim nodded. “I’ll holler at Neil. He’ll want to know what’s up.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea, given Neil’s recent outburst?”

  “Maybe not,” Jim said, shrugging. “But I’m willing to bet the Hand wouldn’t be happy if they saw this. We could all be implicated. We need to sit Bert down and find out what’s going on. If he’ll tell us.”

  Kevin’s jaw tightened, his resolve concrete. “I don’t intend on giving him a choice.”

  ***

  He parked near an old observation tower, the kind tourists climbed to the top of to get a scenic view of the green hills and the lake below. It was chilly outside, so he doubted any visitors would show. Apparently Lilith had the same idea, and Kevin’s truck was the only other vehicle in the lot. He parked beside it.

  He hopped out and threw on his hoodie while scanning the surrounding area. The few shops in the seemed to be closed and no one was around. No one with any sense in their head wanted to feel the breeze coming off the lake. But it was within walking distance to the cave where he’d seen her.

  The sight of Kevin’s truck had made his heart beat faster. Not because it meant she was near, but because of the other implication. It had taken him a while to arrive. By now, she should’ve made her escape. He wanted to run straight to the cave, but his old training habits kicked in. Instead, he ensured he had all his gear and locked the Beast.

  Then he moved to Kevin’s truck. It was locked, but being roommates, they’d traded keys. He reached inside and popped the hood, then made his way back around to the front where he disconnected the battery. He wasn’t leaving her an easy escape route.

  The path to the cave was old, but a thin trail of beaten down earth showed him the way. It had been years since he’d walked it. Ahead the path grew crooked and dangerous, but that had never deterred rebellious teenagers. The trail wound up and down, past boulders and thick patches of brush. Around each corner he feared he’d find a smiling white face waiting for him, but he couldn’t risk slowing down. He had to get to her.