by T. G. Ayer
Drake’s expression darkened. “So the warlock has something to do with the lightning?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure, but it’s very likely. It’s too much of a coincidence.”
Drake grunted as he walked over to the kitchen and filled the kettle. I frowned at the water flowing from the faucet. “How is there water? I thought this place was abandoned.”
Drake grinned. “I turned the water on when I got here.”
“Oh?” I wasn’t surprised. My lack of awareness was a testament to where my concentration had been all this while. My mind seemed to always be elsewhere.
Drake made coffee, his forehead scrunched as he seemed to mull something over. I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind. The envelope containing the DNA results sat in my pocket with the weight of a log.
At the suggestion of the Ancient Darius, I’d taken epithelial samples of all my friends. According to him, I had to suspect every single person in my life, friends, and family alike. It had hurt me deeply to obtain those samples, to ruin the trust of so many people who I cared so much for. Even with the reminder at the back of my head that said it was entirely possible that one of them could have paid the sangoma to put the curse on me.
Darius had suggested I do so in order to clear them as suspects, but I still felt guilty for the way I’d obtained them, for basically stealing the samples from them.
Drake’s voice broke through my thoughts. “We have the grimoire. Why can’t we use it to track the warlock himself? If it’s connected to the both of you and he can track you, surely you can do the same?” Drake was staring at me, almost challenging me.
“You think I haven’t thought of that?” I sighed and got to my feet, barely noticing the twinge of pain in my wounds. “It would require the use of dark magic. I’m not sure I want to go there.”
Drake lifted an eyebrow. “You need to save Saleem. You need to save your sister. You can’t do either of those things if you want to remain hands-off the icky shit.”
I stared at Drake. I understood—even agreed with—what he was saying, but I couldn’t see myself delving into evil. But I had to face the facts. Drake was right. If the price for saving Saleem and Ari was being tarnished with black magic, shouldn’t it be a sacrifice I was willing to make? Were their lives not worth it to me?
I sighed and sank back onto the bed—which I had realized was now a blow-up mattress and not the painfully thin one I’d been using since I’d gotten to New Orleans.
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted toward me as Drake brought me a cup of French press. He also held out a plate of beignets—the mere sight of the warm, sugar-dusted deep-fried bread made my mouth water.
Within seconds, I’d polished off the plate and downed my coffee. I’d had little time for food these past few days, which was a pity considering where we were. But food was one of those things that didn’t feature when I was on a case. And this particular case was one for a lifetime.
Once we were both done with our coffee, we faced the book.
“You first,” I said.
“It’s your book,” Drake replied, his voice low.
Silence reigned a little longer until I finally gave in and reached out for the book.
I let out a high-pitched shriek as the book skidded across the floor and slammed into my hand, spine in my palm.
“That’s both insanely cool and supremely scary all at the same time.” Drake’s eyes were wide.
Heart still racing, I flipped the cover open and stared at the first few pages. Most of the writing was in foreign languages—from what I could make out there were at least six different scribes making notes and writing down spells.
I sighed and turned the page, frustrated that I couldn’t find anything solid to use to track him. I’d turned the page over and was flattening it out as it seemed to have a natural curl to it, when pain stabbed into the pad of my forefinger.
“Shit,” I gasped and pulled my finger away to investigate the injury. Why did I keep getting hurt?
A deep cut marked the top of my fingertip, and I studied the page for the culprit. I was leaning over the book to see if I could find what had caused the cut, paying little attention to the welling blood on my fingertip.
I heard the droplet hit the page, as if listening to something in the distance, the sound echoing toward me almost in slow motion.
The drop of blood hit the paper, causing a shockwave of energy to blast across the room.
The last thing I heard was Drake yelling my name. And then everything shifted, my vision turning to white, to black.
And then to nothing.
Chapter 36
When I opened my eyes, I gasped, finding myself floating in dark space.
There was only one place that existed in the ether that was as black as night in the same way as this place was.
Limbo.
Somewhere in between the planes. Fear trickled through me, the knowledge that I needed to move, to get past this plane, to follow the tether and complete the projection. But I was at a loss. Usually, all I did was follow the feedback thread right to the owner.
Light filled the black, streaks tearing across the darkness. Lightning in Limbo. Seems the lightning had followed me all the way here where light should not even exist.
I wasn’t sure what it meant, or how I’d ended up here in Nowhereland.
Was it the blood? My blood that had landed on the book, a tome filled with dark magic, if not pure evil. Where had it taken me?
I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to concentrate, and through the dense nothing, I sensed the pulsing of what felt like a heartbeat. A steady throb that pulled at me.
I began to move toward it, drawn to it, curious and hopeful that perhaps it may lead me to the warlock. Perhaps soon I would be free of this awful possession.
With a rush of energy, I was thrust out of the ether and into a room that was—for the most part—quite cozy.
I blinked. The room was large but filled with books and ornaments, that on closer inspection had everything to do with the occult and magic. The artifacts were death masks and torture devices, the books—grimoires and dark magic manuals. I scanned the rest of the shadowed room, taking in the threadbare rugs, the moth-eaten tapestried chairs and sofas, the large table almost weighed down by old and discolored leather-bound tomes. Even the wide marble mantelpiece above the giant fireplace was stacked so fully, that even the lone rectangular box—covered in faded gold letters that I couldn’t read—was barely visible.
I hurried toward the door, bent on discovering where I was. Had I made it to the plane in which the warlock was hiding? And, where was he? Had I been meant to go to him—given that he was the other current owner of the Shavallan?
I suppressed a shudder at the thought of the book. The sooner I got rid of the thing, the better. Only right now it was a tool. One I had to manipulate to further my own needs, and in so doing, fight a warlock of unimaginable power.
Out in the hall, I followed the distant light toward a second half-open door. When I stepped inside, it felt again as if I’d walked into another world. The air was dry and dusty, and when I looked up, I realized what the smell was—dried thatch reed that made up the conical roof of the space.
Beneath my feet, the ground was hard-packed mud, smoothed by constant thoroughfare. A fat center pole supported the roof while the walls were hung with patterned blankets. Strange items hung from the roof, bones of various animals strung together the way one would hang garlic out. Dried grasses, and emaciated dead geckos, lizards, frogs and small wildlife decorated the walls all around.
Outside, the light brightened then grew darker, again and again, and I imagined bright flashes of lightning filling the sky. By now, I was convinced the lightning was a message to me. I just had to figure out what it was.
Rickety tables were pushed against the walls, and these too were filled with bottles and boxes of strange, unsettling items. I was afraid to investigate further for fear of what I would find.
>
The air also held the scent of smoke, and something else. I recognized the odor from high school—an experimental dose or two, peer pressure induced or otherwise. Marijuana.
Likely used to induce visions? I had to wonder why I was here. Was this an illusion? Something I’d built inside my mind? The surreal nature of the whole experience had me questioning everything that I saw.
I stepped away, the need to flee growing stronger by the second. I’d almost made a full turn, aiming for the door, when a voice called out, “Stay. You have come this far. Why leave without at least a meeting?”
The voice was so friendly, so conversational you’d be forgiven for thinking we knew each other well.
I turned slowly, fear, trepidation, and expectation all building up inside me in eagerness to meet this warlock, this witch-doctor responsible for all my pain.
But what stood there was no man.
A giant bird rose before me, blue-black feathers sparking flashes of light. As tall as a man, he turned to me, head raised, eyes sparkling with electricity, its beak glimmering as it reflected the lightning.
I swallowed, wanting to run, but knowing there was nowhere to go.
The bird rose on its feet and spread its wings wide, so wide that he enclosed me within them. And then he launched into the air, surging into flight, yet with his wings still wrapped around me.
We spun, turning around and around within a whirlwind of lightning and smoke.
Ozone and feather dust filled my nostrils, but I could no longer breathe. My chest constricted, the breath caught unmoving within my lungs, whether in shock or fear, I couldn’t be sure.
Gulping, choking, I sobbed as the edges of my vision dulled and darkness pummeled me into nothing.
* * *
I woke gasping, my hand going to my throat as I sucked in air as if I hadn’t breathed in days.
“Mel,” Drake shouted, skidding to my side on his knees. He pushed my hair from my face then got to his feet and sprinted to the kitchen for water.
As I gulped for breath, I heard water hit the glass in a whirl of submerged bubbles. Then Drake was at my side, coaxing me to drink.
I obeyed wordlessly, drank the water, breathed the air and slowly, very slowly, I calmed down.
Moments past within which Drake patted my hand, refilled my glass and then waited in silence. He seemed to understand that I couldn’t, wouldn’t be rushed.
At last, I inhaled swiftly. “Now that was totally weird.”
“What happened? Where’d you go?”
I lifted my gaze to his worried face and smiled, hoping I was hiding my fear well enough. “I went to Limbo, I think.”
“Shit.”
I nodded. “And then the book took me to this place. A strange room that seemed to be some sort of holding area? I don’t know.” I frowned as I tracked through my memory. “And then…then I ended up inside a mud hut, and it looked like a place a witch-doctor would call home. Probably generalized assumption but hey, I’m going with it.”
“Did you find the asshole who’s doing this to you?”
“Not…exactly.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Drake snapped, grumpy now. I hid a smile. Poor guy must have been through the mill waiting for me to get back.
“It means that I’m not sure. Maybe it was the warlock, but what I saw right before I returned would blow the socks off your gargoyle feet.”
“Would you just tell me already?”
I grinned, feeling some of the tension lift. “A bird. A great big giant bird. It grabbed hold of me and lifted me off the ground, and there was lightning everywhere, striking its feathers, but it seemed unaffected, as if immune to it.”
I was rambling and then came to a sudden stop, out of words, out of air, out of energy.
“A giant bird? That survived a lightning strike?”
I nodded.
“And you survived the lightning?”
I nodded again.
“But what does the giant bird and the lightning have to do with the sangoma?”
“Not a clue.” I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling a jolt of trepidation that perhaps I’d end up there again, in that dusty, hot thatched hut, being hugged by a bird and struck by lightning.
Thankfully, when I blinked, I was still in the loft.
“I think we’re going to have to call in the cavalry on this one,” Drake said, his face dark with concern.
I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him. “Who? Your main squeeze?”
Drake made a face. “No. I meant Steph.”
Chapter 37
I rang Steph as soon as I dug my phone out of my pocket. My wounds had long since stopped hurting, and my cheekbone felt tons better now after Chloe’s healing vibes.
Steph answered, her tone snippy as though the last thing she wanted to be doing was answering the phone—which was about right for Steph.
“Steph, I need—”
“Okay then, things must be bad if you don’t even pause to find out if I’m doing okay here all by myself.”
“Sorry, kid,” I pursed my lips, “I’m in a bit of a rush here.”
“Hit me with it.”
“I need research on a bird. A giant man-sized bird. And see if you can find anything with a connection to lightning.”
“Right, got it. Gimme a minute.” I smiled. When it came to Steph, one minute literally meant one minute.
And sure enough, barely sixty seconds later my phone pinged with a paragraph of notes as well as links to various sites in case I wanted to check them out myself.
I didn’t. These days, web browsing was a thing of pain and discomfort when it came to mobile devices. You had to have a satellite under your control to browse at a decent rate—something to do with so much magic polluting the airwaves, which of course could just be corporate bullshit, but one never knew.
The only people with decent browsing access were governmental and defense departments. And maybe the intelligence sectors.
“What did she say?” Drake stopped pacing to stare over at me.
I skimmed the message. “A giant black bird known as the impundulu. It’s an African tribal mythological creature. A vampiric bird that feeds on blood. Usually a familiar of a powerful witch or warlock.”
Drake’s expression was priceless. “So this bird had something to do with the warlock?”
I nodded, a little excited to express my theory. “I think this impundulu is the warlock. Or rather I think it’s called an ishilogo.”
“A what?” Drake asked, his mouth full as he began snacking on more beignets.
“An ishilogo. So when the impundulu’s master dies without passing the bird along to a new owner, it’s apparently a bad situation. All chaos and doom-gloom. And from what the books say, the bird is a shapeshifter, who in its human form is a very attractive man. So he can take the form of a man, which could be the same creep I saw in the crowd. He’s a lightning bird, which explains the lightning that’s been following me around. He’s a familiar of a powerful witch or warlock, which implies access to spells and possibly even a solid education in dark magic. As the witch’s familiar, he’d likely be linked to them by blood magic, which could explain the link between him and the book.”
I sighed, then glanced up at Drake who was still chewing, but with a contemplative look on his face. I opened a palm and waited until he dropped a couple beignets into it.
“So we know what he is. We know how he’s linked to the book. We know how he knows how to find you.”
I nodded. “Now all we need to learn is how to defeat him. What makes him tick. What’s his weakness?”
My heart raced, thundering against my ribs. We could do something about all the crazy that’s been in my life? For the first time in weeks, I was able to feel some sort of relief, some expectation that it could soon be over.
But I tempered my excitement. It was also entirely possible that it could all go wrong, we could be howling down the wrong canyon for all we knew.
I gave Natasha a quick call which consisted of “I need you here fast, we have a situation,” and her response of, “I’ll be there as soon as you send me a ride.”
Drake left to fetch her, his stiff spine and tight jowl muscles saying he wasn’t looking forward to it and I had to wonder why the two of them just didn’t make up and be done with it. Sure he had issues with his family—which I had to get him to finally tell me considering we’d been interrupted before he’d clued me in on everything—but the two of them had seemed like such a perfect fit from the beginning. I wanted it to work out for them, but short of throwing a spell on the two of them, there wasn’t much I could do except wait for them to work things out.
Drake returned within seconds with Natasha, who looked a little flushed as if she too was either uncomfortable or angry with him.
I didn’t probe.
Natasha’s emotionless expression implied she wanted to be all business and I didn’t want to get into her personal life, especially not with Drake listening.
“So, what’s the situation?” she asked, walking over to where I sat beside the book.
I filled her in on what had happened with my vision and seeing the lightning bird. Then I added the info that Steph had provided, feeling the rush of excitement as I saw the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“We need to find what our options are for killing the bird,” she said as she bent over the Shavallan. “Grimoire often have rules of ownership written into the pages, covering all sorts of things like witch-witch deals, contracts with familiars and even treaties with allies.”
“Didn’t realize things were so formal,” I said, pursing my lips.
“What do you think?” asked Natasha. “Did you think it was all abracadabra and allakazam?”
I shook my head. “I was thinking more hocus-pocus and bibbidi bobbidi boo.”
She snorted and pointed at the book with a stern glare.
