by Jen Pretty
"There's a kitchen." I rose to my feet in the loft. I could stand upright, but I doubted the vampires would have been able to with how low the ceiling was.
"It doesn't have running water. But if you boil water, you can pour it down the sink."
"What the hell good is that?" I asked. "I might as well toss it out the door."
"It gets cold enough here; there might be days you don't want to open the door. That reminds me--" Falcor said, stepping back to the railing. "-- Could you guys bring in a few dozen pieces of firewood?"
Henry nodded and headed for the door.
"Too cold to open the door?" I asked.
"We will just be here until we get some answers. So, get to work." Falcor handed me a book. It had a leaf on the front, but the cover was cracked. The smell of old books wafted from it.
I crawled onto the bed and sat cross-legged. Falcor grabbed the book he had taken from Francis that had his father’s name in it.
"What is that?" I asked.
"One of his journals. I thought I had them all."
I bit my lip, so I didn't say anything. I knew Falcor was still hurting from the loss of his father, even if they were completely different people, and Falcor hadn't gotten along well with the king of the witches and warlocks. I felt like it was more about how Farand just didn't have the time for Falcor that he wanted when he was a child. I could understand it. I had met my mother and ran away. I couldn't say I handled that any better than Falcor handled his relationship with his father.
I started scanning the words on the page, reading a lot of interesting things about witches and spells. None of it helpful, but I hoped I could remember some of the more interesting parts.
Soon the small cottage was filled with the sounds of pages turning and the fire crackling. It had a certain feeling of peace that I enjoyed. It reminded me of long Saturday afternoons in my apartment back home, when I would get a good book and curl up on my tiny couch and just read the day away.
There was nothing better than looking up and realizing how much time had passed after finishing a good book. The books weren't simple love stories or action-adventure types that I enjoyed, but many of them had a certain story feel to them until I picked up a thinner book that felt cold in my hands. At first, I thought it was just because it had been on the bottom of a pile, but the longer I held it, the colder it seemed to grow.
"This is weird," I said.
"What is it?" Falcor asked. He had settled on the bed beside me but was still reading his father’s journal.
"It's cold," I said, handing the book to Falcor.
Falcor took it and sucked in a breath. "There is a spell teched to it."
"To keep it cold? That's a weird spell to put on a book."
"No, not to keep it cold. That's just a side effect."
"A side effect of what?" I asked, leaning back on my elbows to watch as Falcor set it down on the bed in front of him.
"A side effect of catching a warlock in the paper."
"What?" I asked, sitting up again.
"There is a person trapped in the book," he said.
"That can't be good."
"It usually isn't."
CHAPTER TEN
Falcor was already moving towards his bag, and he pulled out the bag of salt.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Getting him or her out."
Henry and Pete had started up the ladder. As I predicted, when they made it to the top, they had to duck their heads. It immediately made the space feel too small, but I shifted back on the bed to let Henry sit beside me as we watched Falcor make his magic circle.
"How do you know it’s a warlock?" Henry asked.
"Because when you trap a witch in a book, the book will be hot."
"God, you people are so weird," Pete said.
"You people?" Falcor asked in a disgusted tone.
"Witches and warlocks," Pete expanded, but it was too late. Falcor had already decided to blame Pete for the incident with the witch in the shower, and he would never be able to say the right thing now.
Falcor ignored the rest of us and went back to constructing his circle. He used up all the free floor space at the end of the bed, not that there was much there.
"What if he's evil?" Henry asked.
"He'll be contained," Falcor assured.
So, we sat quietly and watched as he set the book inter circle and began whispering whatever words of magic he had to use to bring the warlock out of the book. I had flashes of Jumanji, so I crossed my fingers and hoped it wouldn't be anything weird like that. Falcor's magic strings slipped from his fingertips and latched onto the book.
I didn't have long to wait. One second the book was in the middle of the circle, and the next, a young man who didn't look old enough to drink or vote was standing in its place. He was wearing an old Civil war uniform, his long coat pressed neatly, and a hat perched on his head. A musket hung from his hip.
"Holy shit," I whispered. Even though Falcor had said that a warlock was in the book, I honestly hadn't expected to find a person there.
My magic chose the moment of my inattention to blast out as a dam had broken. It slammed into the young man and began to swirl around him. The feeling of familiarity was quick and sudden.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
The boy’s eyes widened. "Where am I?" he asked.
His head turned, and he spotted the vampires changing his look from shock to fear. His hand grabbed for his musket, but before he had time for that, Henry had not only broken the circle but had ripped the weapon out of the warlock’s hand and broke it in half.
"Please!" the boy cried. "Don't kill me!"
Henry took a step back, but the boy kept screaming and backing up until he was pressed against the railing. Before I could blink, he had grabbed the railing behind him, swung his feet over, and jumped down.
"Wait!" I said, too late. I heard his boots hit the floor, then the sound of the door opening and closing.
I hurried down the ladder behind the vampires. "Wait, you guys can’t go after him!" I yelled at the vampires, who stopped heading for the door and turned to look at me like I was crazy.
"He thinks you're going to kill him," I said, grabbing my coat and boots and scarf and hat. I stuffed myself into heavy clothes. "Falcor and I will get him."
"You can't be left UN guarded," Pete said.
"Some good you did last time, Petey. Back off," Falcor said as he pulled on his boots.
"We'll stay back," Henry said. I didn't have time to argue with that, so I took off out the door, Falcor hot on my heels.
There was something about the boy. He was definitely family of some kind. I had to get him back.
Falcor and I raced out into the snow, following the tracks that were clear in the fresh snow. They took a sharp left into the forest that surrounded the cottage and then raced through the snowy terrain in large strides. Falcor was faster than I was, but I could tell he was holding back.
"Go," I yelled. "I'll catch up."
"No way,” he yelled back.
"Falcor! He’s important!" I couldn't say how I knew, but I knew. And my voice had dropped into that range that made me wonder if I was still in control or if the Black Crow had taken over.
Falcor growled and then took off, his ability to shift taking him far in an instant. I continued chasing the tracks. A quick glance over my shoulder assured me that the vampires were not far off, though they were keeping their distance as they promised.
I pressed my legs to go faster, tripping in the snowdrifts that popped up seemingly out of nowhere. One second, I was running, and the next, I was face first in the icy white powder.
"Shit," I said as I pouched myself up with my bare hands in the freezing snow. A strong pair of arms grabbed me and scooped me up.
"You okay?" Pete asked.
"Shit," I said again, trying to find something I could wipe my face on, but my sleeves and the front of my coat and scarf were all covered in snow.
Henry caught up too and skidded to a stop in front of us. "Let's go back to the cottage," he said. "I'm sure Falcor can find him."
I gave up, flapping my arms to try and get the rest of the snow off them. "Fine."
We turned to head back, our tracks were pretty clear, so it wasn't like we could get lost out there, but when we looked up, there was a figure standing a distance off.
"Who is that?" I asked, pointing ahead of us.
"Who?" the vampires asked.
"Oh, for fucks sake," I muttered. I presumed it was a wraith and went ahead of the vampires, heading toward whoever it was.
The snow was easier to walk through on the way back, but I couldn't keep my eyes on the figure ahead, or I would have fallen again, so I was surprised when we were halfway back, to look up and find whoever it was, they had vanished. I didn't care. If it had been a wraith, I was better off without seeing them.
We were nearly back at the cottage when Falcor appeared on the small porch on the front of the porch, his hand wrapped around the thin arm of the boy we had been chasing. At least something went right.
He didn't wait for us. Instead, leading the boy into the cottage and closing the door. It wasn't long before the smoke coming out of the chimney sped up, and I was glad that the cottage would be warm when we got back.
I could tell that Pete wanted to just scoop me up and carry me back, but he thankfully restrained himself. I wasn't a child. I didn't need to be carried.
Finally making it back, I knocked my boots on the porch to get the snow off them, then pressed through the door. The boy was curled up in a heavy wool blanket, sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, but he startled and stiffened as we walked in.
"Remember what I told you?" Falcor said, but the boy didn't relax. At least he didn't bolt again.
"My name is Selena," I said as I pulled off the rest of my winter clothes and grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the threadbare couch before flopping down on it.
Falcor crossed from the kitchen and reached into the fireplace, pulling out a small pot of boiling water. He moved back to the kitchen and filled three mugs with it, unleashing the smell of hot chocolate in the small cabin.
The boy hadn't responded to my words, so I continued. "I'm a necromancer."
Crow chose that moment to appear in the room. His loud caw startling everyone. "Jesus, Crow, could you not?" I asked.
He just cawed again, then landed on the back of a chair and bobbed his head like he was laughing at us.
"Jerk," I whispered.
"Oh God," the boy said. "You're the Black Crow."
I shrugged. "Guilty."
He was suddenly on his knees, his forehead pressed to the floor.
"Oh, you don't need to do that," I said.
"Forgive me," he cried.
"Okay," I said, looking around the room for help from anyone else. None came, so I stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Stand up." my voice was harder than I had intended, but at least it got him moving. The boy rose to his feet but kept his eyes down. "Listen, I'm just like anyone else. You don't have to be afraid of me."
He peeked up at me, but his face showed weary disbelief as if I might strike him down despite my words.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again as if the silence that had fallen had been me waiting for his reply.
"You don't have to apologize. Let's sit down and chat."
He nodded, and I led him to the ratty sofa. Then I moved around the room and pulled a chair out from beside Crow, pulling it around so I could look at the boy. Warlock, I reminded myself. He was a warlock, according to Falcor.
His fear of vampires was honest. He was from a time when the factions had fought blazon wars against each other. It was a dark time for all of humanity as the humans were pulled into the wars.
"Do you know how you ended up in that book?" I asked.
He looked around. "The vampires had come for us." His voice was barely more than a whisper, not that it had stopped the vampires from hearing him. Their hearing was excellent in the worst of times, and in the silent cottage, they wouldn't miss a single word.
"The vampires," I prodded. "They found your coven?"
The boy nodded. I got tired of thinking of him as a boy and instead changed my line of questioning, "What's your name?"
"Oban."
"How old are you?"
He puffed up slightly at the question, and I expected the lie he told next.
"Twenty-one."
I grinned and glanced over at Falcor, who was also grinning.
"Okay, so the vampires had found you..." I prodded.
"My mother was the most powerful witch in the country. I told her I would go down fighting, but instead, she locked me away."
Falcor picked up the thinner book and handed it to Oban. "This is the book you were trapped in."
He took the book and flipped through the pages. A look of sadness crept across his face. "What year is it?"
When we told him, his face fell further? "Have you heard of the witch Leandra?"
I shook my head, but I noticed Falcor's face go pale and the air puffed out of his lungs in a harsh blow and then whispered. "It's not possible."
The boy’s eyes slid to Falcor's. "You know her?"
Falcor shook his head. "I only met her once. On the day of my birth. She was my mother."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"How is that possible?" Oban asked. "She died. She had to have died, or she would have set me free."
Falcor looked as confused as I was.
"How could she abandon me for so long?"
Oban rose to his feet, looked around the room, and then sat back down as if he couldn't figure out what to do. There was no one to fight and nowhere to run. His anger and confusion seemed to grow the longer he thought about what had happened to him.
"Why wouldn't she bring me back?" he asked Falcor.
"I don't know. Perhaps the book fell in the hands of the vampires and was never found."
"Where did you find it?" he asked, seeming to accept that Falcor's explanation could very well be right.
"In the vampire’s library," I replied.
"So, it’s true. They stole me from my mother."
"They probably didn't know," I replied.
Pete spoke up then. "I had no idea that witches could hold people in books. I bet nobody did. It sounds crazy."
"So, she is gone?" he asked, turning his attention back to Falcor.
"I'm sorry."
"What of my father?"
"Farand?" Falcor asked.
"No, his name was Edvard."
Oh shit. I could not have seen that coming. There was no way in hell that anyone knew that Falcor's uncle had a child with his mother. It was the kind of family secret that went to the grave with everyone, the deep dark kind of secret.
"Excuse me," Falcor said. "I need to make a phone call."
We watched him grab his coat and walk out the front door. Then I turned my gaze back to the young man who looked even more confused than a moment ago.
"Did I say something wrong?"
I shook my head. "No." I wanted to say more, but it was family business. I wasn't going to put my foot in it. Falcor could tell the boy, his brother, about the family lines.
“Is my father still alive?”
I nodded. “I think Falcor is going to call him now.”
He bit his lip and nodded.
I found it strange that I felt such a connection to the boy, but I had claimed his brother and his father as my own, that sort of made him mine by extension. I would need to look into Francis's acquisition of the book the boy was gripping. His fingertips were white where they gripped the pages, and I worried he would rip it, but it seemed to be the only thing holding Oban down, so I didn't mention it.
"So, are you hungry?" I asked, trying to change the charged feeling of the room. Oban shook his head, and his eyes crossed to the vampires.
"They aren't going to hurt you," I said. "They are part of my team."
"Do you control them?" he asked.
"Not really. They just kind of do whatever."
"That's unsafe. Particularly around your warlo--" He stopped mid-word and looked at me, then back to the door Falcor had walked through. "He's my brother."
I nodded.
"I always wanted a brother."
"Well, now, you have one. And a whole family, if you want it. My brother is younger than you, but he is really fun. The vampire king and warlock king have created a truce. When they did, they built a school for children of both types. Students learn together."
Oban's eyes widened. "My mother always said that someday we would have a truce and the factions would get along. I never thought it would happen. You didn't see the violence and pain on both sides."
I shook my head. "I'm glad I didn't have to see that. The truce isn't perfect. Sometimes there is bad blood on both sides that escalates. But the kings are working to keep the peace. So am I."
Crow hopped down off his chair, and his feet skittered over the wooden floor until he scooted up on the couch.
Oban leaned away. "He won't touch you," I said. He still didn't relax, but his shoulders dropped slightly.
"Is he sentient?" Oban asked.
"Oh, hell yeah," I said at the same time as Crow cawed out loud, making the boy jump.
Falcor appeared back in the room. "We need to get back to work."
"Did you talk to my father?" Oban asked, rising to his feet.
Falcor nodded. "He's on his way here."
Oban nearly collapsed back to his chair. Then a slow grin pulled at his lips, completely changing his appearance, making him look much younger than I had originally suspected. He was small, but his dark features made him look closer to legal age. Instead, with a smile on his face, he looked more like 14 or 15. I secretly hoped he wasn’t that young. If he had been fighting vampires at that age, I wanted to pity him. But it was a different time, and a 15-year-old warlock would have been more powerful than some vampires. If he had a power similar to Falcor's, I would suggest he was more powerful than most vampires. Even old ones.
Falcor shifted to the loft, grabbing a few of the old books up there, then shifted back down to the main floor, handing out the books to each of us.
