"A corpse bounces back even less," he replied.
Antheka wandered towards the window. She tapped on the glass, indicating the Spire.
"Do you know why Invictus made this place?" asked Antheka.
"You knew him?" he asked.
"How could one not? He was an asshole, but the man had vision." She tapped on her lower lip with a fingernail. "He made the Hundred Halls as insurance for the future. As the realms slowly became connected by way of the obsidian portals, he saw that the mixing of cultures would result in conflict. He hoped to limit that conflict by providing the necessary skills to those that might thwart chaos."
"Are you suggesting this gift is insurance for you?" asked Zayn. "I can't be bought."
"I'm not trying to," she said, facing him. "Invictus was a genius, a man of uncanny vision. Unfortunately, there will never be another like him. But while I don't have his vision, I'm gifted with the occasional glimpse of prophecy."
"And you saw the need to give me a gift?"
She kept a tight-lipped smile. "I would prefer not to reveal what I saw. But I will say that there is a great battle ahead of you, and I wish to provide you with a weapon."
A wicked dagger appeared in the air between them. It was the length of his forearm with a black pommel, silver guard, and keen blade. The edges looked sharp enough to sing through the air.
"Abzu, the Hidden Blade."
The hairs on his arms rose as he reached towards the weapon. He kept his hand hovering over it. He couldn't help but covet the dagger, and Antheka smiled in response to his need.
"What does it do?"
"It's an artifact from ancient times. A powerful weapon, not made for battle or alley scraps, but rather the taking of life," said Antheka.
"All weapons are for taking life."
"Not really." Her eyes glittered with amusement. "Some wish only to brandish them, to scare their enemies or bolster themselves. Then the weapon is merely a status symbol. But when this blade is revealed, it must take life, or it will turn on its owner."
Zayn took a step back, drawing a chuckle from her lips.
"Don't worry. I do not own this weapon, not in the way you will soon understand if you take it. We are safe."
Zayn took a long look at the blade. Though he heard no voice, it called to him. His whole body seemed to vibrate from the nearness, as if they'd been made from the same primal clay.
"Do you accept it?" she asked.
With the Lady of Varna firmly in his mind, Zayn put his hand on the rounded hilt. The cool metal sent shivers up his arm and down his spine. When he pulled the weapon away from her hand, that sensation changed.
Suddenly, pain wracked his arm, as if it'd been dipped in molten lead. He cried out and tried to drop the weapon, but it wouldn't fall from his hand. He turned his hand over to see the weapon sinking into his flesh, becoming one with him.
Zayn fell to his knees, holding his arm as the dagger entered the meat of his muscle. He tried to block the pain with his imbuement, but he couldn't reach it through the curtain of pain.
It went on for agonizing minutes, until at last, he found relief in its absence. Zayn lay on his side on the cool tile as Antheka stood above him. The weapon was no longer visible. He probed his arm to find no sign of the dagger.
When he looked up, she said, "I would have told you but it would have only made it worse. It's over now. You and the weapon are one."
"How do I use the damn thing?" he asked.
"The weapon will come when you want it, but do not reveal it unless you mean to use it," she said from above.
He struggled to gain his feet, but once upright, he felt steadier. The memories of pain faded quickly.
Antheka strode from the room, leaving by the front door rather than the portal. She disappeared from sight but a few feet out the door, despite the bright streetlights and her yellow top.
Zayn probed his arm a few more times, trying to find sign of the ancient dagger. Now that it, and Antheka, were gone, he wondered if the whole thing had been an illusion. She'd mentioned a great battle. There was only one for him.
Zayn turned towards the back. It was time to go home.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Varna, June 2015
Answers in unexpected places
"Watch out below," called Zayn from the top of the pile of cars in the middle of Doc's junkyard. The sun reflected off the many broken windshields and old hoods, turning the rusty patch of Varna into a sauna. The smell of old oil wafted up from the narrow rows of wreckage.
Neveah, in cutoffs and a tank top, ran to the truck, while his father, Maceo, scooted to the side. Keelan made no move to get out of the way, and Doc had stayed back while Zayn had climbed the stack of half-crushed cars.
Zayn launched the rusted refrigerator in a high arc. It slammed into the ground, inches from Keelan.
When the refrigerator tipped into the dirt, the others returned. Neveah punched Keelan in the shoulder, who gave her a cattish grin.
"Showoff."
Zayn leapt down, his impact kicking up dust. He cupped his hands against the sun. It was still early June, but the heat had come early, and while he could have kept himself cool with a simple enchantment, there was something comforting about the Alabama heat and breaking things in Doc's junkyard. When they were younger, Doc would let them break the windows out of the cars that were going into the crusher.
With his thumbs tucked behind the straps of his overalls, Doc approached the pile. The wrinkles in his face grew deeper as a grin stretched across his nut-brown skin. He tucked a strand of his stark-white hair back underneath his Massey Ferguson tractor hat, which had splits on the sides of the bill and had smudges of dirt on it that had probably been there since the '90s.
"Tie a rope to the end of her and she'll tug right off the back. After that, I can haul her back to the Stack. The rest will be up to you," said Doc.
The her in question was an old ice cream truck that had seen better days. The bumper was long gone, and the engine would probably need replacing, but the structure had been sturdy enough to hold Zayn when he'd climbed on top of it to throw the refrigerator off.
"It's gonna be a lot of work getting her fixed," said Maceo, but it was clear from the look on Neveah's face that she was ready to march through battle for it.
"I don't care how long it takes," she said, "but I will have my own food truck.
"Half the residents in Varna won't buy food from a truck," said Keelan.
"They will after they eat some of my food," said Neveah. "Even if I have to tackle them and force them to eat it."
Zayn believed his younger sister. When she put her mind to something, it was best to get the hell out of her way.
Then in the sweetest voice, Neveah said, "Oh, dearest older brother and smartest cousin, why are you not bringing my precious Delilah down from yonder pile?"
"Delilah? You named your food truck?" asked Keelan, then he wrinkled his face. "And did you say smartest or smartass?"
"Is there a difference?" said Neveah with a wink.
"Every good vehicle needs a name," said Maceo, patting the dented door. The ice cream decal had mostly peeled off except for the bottom of the cones.
"Yeah, but that's usually the case for a hot rod. Not a food truck," said Keelan.
Instead of responding, Maceo pushed Keelan towards the pile.
"Go on, boys, you have work to do."
It didn't take but an hour for Zayn and his cousin to haul the old ice cream truck down and put it on the long trailer bed. After tying it down, Maceo and Neveah jumped in the cab.
"You two can run back," said his dad with a wink. "We'll bring the truck back later, Doc. Thanks again for everything."
The truck door opened, and Neveah jumped out, ran over to Doc, and gave him a big hug. "Thank you for Delilah. I wish I could pay you something now, but I promise I will later."
Doc cupped her face with his wrinkled hand. "There's no need, Neveah. You all have been more than ne
ighbors all these years, comin' to help me whenever I've asked. You're damn near family, more than my own flesh and blood. So enjoy Delilah. Make me proud."
He winked, and Neveah gave him a kiss on the cheek before she ran back to the cab. As it pulled away, with the old ice cream truck on the back, Keelan said, "I didn't know your sister could be nice."
"That's because you only see her in the kitchen," said Zayn. "She's like a badger in her hole when she's cooking. Don't mess with her unless you want to lose an arm."
"You boys want a couple of orange sodas? Knock a little off this heat?" asked Doc, squinting away the myriad of reflections.
Zayn hadn't had an orange soda in years. "Sounds great."
They went back to the little building in the center of the junkyard that Doc called his home.
After a long drink from the cold bottle, Zayn said, "Where do you even find these? I didn't know they bottled this stuff anymore."
"Helps to know people," said Doc, winking. "You know, it's good to see you boys together after what happened between your fathers."
Zayn had the bottle of orange drink against his lips, so he was able to hide his surprise at the comment. He glanced at Keelan, who had not hid his expression as well, but Doc hadn't been looking at him.
"What do you mean?" asked Keelan in a quiet voice.
"You know," said Doc, as if he thought they did, "they'd been fightin' like two wasps in a jar before Jesse died. Was a shame they didn't get to make up. Hate to see those kinds of things linger."
"What were they fighting about?" asked Zayn.
"What they always fought about, the Lady," said Doc, nodding in a northerly direction.
Zayn and his cousin shared glances. They'd never realized that Doc knew what had gone on between their fathers. Zayn had a good feeling that Doc wasn't supposed to tell them this, but he was north of eighty, and might have forgotten.
"What about the Lady?" asked Keelan.
"You know, how Jesse wanted to do something about her, but Maceo tried to warn him away." Doc paused. "Did your father not tell you all this already?"
"Yeah, he did, but it's been a while. It's good to hear it from someone else," said Zayn.
"Anyway, when Jesse thought he'd found a way to take care of the Lady, he was all excited. This was the night before he died. He'd wanted Maceo to go with him, but he declined."
Zayn could hardly control his breath as he asked, "Where did he go? And what did he think he would find?"
Doc sucked on his teeth for a moment. "They would never say in front of me, in case, you know. But I think I have some of his old books here. They used the back room like a war room when it came to things in the town."
Doc led them into the back room of his small one-story house. An old table was filled with empty jars and old tools and liberally covered with dust. Behind the table was a short bookshelf. Doc handed them a half-dozen books before excusing himself to use the bathroom.
Zayn quickly looked over the titles. They were either maps of the region or geological surveys.
"The weapon," whispered Zayn, paging through the top book. "He must have found it."
Keelan started flipping through pages frantically, while Zayn did the same. They found numerous maps of the town from various time periods, including its founding. In all of them, the Lady's plantation sat at the center in some form or another, and in a few of them, an area north of the plantation was highlighted by a heavy ink circle.
"I know this area," said Keelan. "We pass through it on the way to the train tracks."
"We should go check it out," said Zayn. "There might be a cave there or an old well. Maybe something else entirely."
Keelan frowned. "I...I'm not sure if we should."
A fever of excitement filled Zayn's chest. Their fathers hadn't the training they had.
"What if he did find something, but wasn't capable of taking it? Maybe it was a trapped tomb, like the Bastille," said Zayn. "Or maybe it's a way into the Lady's plantation."
"It's not that," said Keelan, staring into the distance, face pinched with pain. "What if I find out he's alive?"
Chapter Thirty-Five
Varna, June 2015
A forgotten path
Despite looking like someone had kicked him between the legs, Keelan joined Zayn on the search. They reached the location on the map quickly, using their imbuements, but once they were there, the searching slowed because the trees were being strangled by kudzu. The invasive vine covered everything in a blanket of green.
The center section of the town had more elevation than the surrounding areas. Zayn was studying the map, trying to get a bearing on their location while Keelan sidearmed rocks into the bushes.
"The train tracks are up that way," said Zayn, pointing through the trees. "I never realized how close to the Lady's place we were when we came through here. There's an old barbed wire fence right in that hollow that marks the edge of her property. We must have hopped over that fence a thousand times."
Keelan looked back to him, squinting into the sunlight that had made it through the trees. "Nothing in Varna's that far from the Lady. I thought you knew that."
"I mean geographically," said Zayn.
"I meant that too," said Keelan, tight-lipped, nostrils flaring.
Zayn almost fired back a retort, but he saw his cousin was cocked like a hammer. It made sense. They were searching for his dad's final resting place, or possibly a clue to where he might have gone. Zayn didn't know which would be worse for his cousin. He suspected it might be the latter.
The map, which was from about forty years ago, was confusing compared to what Zayn was seeing, because the kudzu smoothed out the geological features that might have shown the way. He turned back and forth a few times before deciding on the next place to search.
"If we go over the fence, there's a depression before it leads up a slope towards the back of the plantation, where the outbuildings are," said Zayn.
Keelan followed without comment, tossing rocks into the trees at increasing speed. When they reached the rusted barbed wire fence, Keelan threw one so hard that the rock imbedded into a tree.
With his foot on the wire, Zayn said, "You sure you want to do this? I can check it out and let you know if I find anything."
Keelan's head snapped around. He opened his mouth. Closed it, then shut his eyes.
"I'm sorry, cuz. You know this is messing with me. I want to know, but you know, I don't."
"I get it," said Zayn.
"No you don't," said Keelan, opening his bloodshot eyes. "You don't know how many times he put a hand to me. I mean, I might have deserved it a time or two, but not as often as he did it. That dude was an asshole. But he was also my father. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"
Face scrunched up, Keelan had nascent tears in his eyes.
"It's not your damage," said Zayn. "I don't know why he was how he was, but that's not you. You've taken the best parts of him and thrown away the rest. If it weren't for you, we all would have died in the Bastille. And I know how hard that must have been, diving into the water with those creepy-ass glass guardians swimming around."
"I know, I know. I hear you, cuz, but sometimes even though I know these things, I worry, like there's some flaw in me that when it comes down to it, I'll break like he did. Because you really never know until that moment."
Zayn grabbed his cousin and pulled him in for a hug. Keelan was taller, and they were both sweaty and gross, but he squeezed him tight.
"I will always trust you. Always. I know you. We're more than cousins, we're brothers. I don't care what happens, but you will be there for me, like I will be there for you. Always."
Keelan let him hold him for a long minute. When he pulled away, he was nodding his head and thumbing away the tears.
"Thanks, cuz. I needed that." Keelan blew out a cleansing breath. "I'm ready now."
In the space between the hills, kudzu vines had stretched between the trees, along with those long limbe
d flying insects his mother had told him didn't bite, but he still didn't like when they flew around his head. Zayn and his cousin tromped around, taking a circuitous route, looking for signs of caves.
"If there's something here, I'm not sure how we'll find it," said Keelan. "Damn kudzu's covering everything."
"Maybe we shouldn't look with our eyes, but our other senses," said Zayn, thinking back to their imbuement lessons in the Undercity earlier in the year.
"Yeah, let's do that."
They calmed themselves. Zayn closed his eyes to shut out the visual information. When Zayn amped his other senses up, he could hear Keelan's heartbeat. It sounded like a rabbit being chased down by a hawk. Zayn could sense his tremoring as if his whole body had been wired to explode.
Zayn sent his senses out further. There was no wind, so he could practically hear the forest steaming in the heat, smell the rot of small dead animals beneath the kudzu. As he was scanning a patch of the invasive vines, he sensed a different air, like the exhalation of some great earthy beast.
"Over there," said Zayn.
"Yeah, I caught that too. Like the ground is breathing. Over in that patch of shade against that steep incline," said Keelan.
As they struggled through the kudzu, Zayn saw the verdant leaves rustle as if something were exhaling. When they reached the area, he could feel cool air seeping out.
Using their bare hands, they ripped away the vines, revealing a narrow cut going into the ground as if someone had jabbed the earth with a dagger.
Keelan bent over near the side of the cave, pulling a tattered olive-green canvas backpack from the side.
"This is my dad's," Keelan said breathlessly. "JAW is written in marker on the inside lip."
"Jesse Allen Walker," said Zayn.
Keelan opened the backpack and pulled out a couple of flares, a map, and a couple of old granola bars.
"Why'd he leave this out here?" asked Keelan.
Zayn ignored the question and pointed to the entrance. "Too narrow to slide through with that on your back. Gonna have to suck it in."
The Sorcerous Spy Page 25
