Afterworld (The Orion Rezner Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

I stared at the post script.

Huh
?

The note burst into flames, slightly burning my hand.

Sonofabitch
!

I shook it off and looked around once more. Some kid with a bicycle stood in the middle of the street, staring at me.

I laughed nervously. “Faulty lighter…uh, don’t smoke.” I smiled and quickly slipped into my apartment.

Who the hell is M. S.
? I wondered.
Melody Stone
?
Maybe she wanted a piece of the Rez
…we
had
hit it off pretty good at Fracco’s.

I grabbed the bread and peanut butter Killroy brought the other day and plopped down on the couch wondering where Dude was—he loved peanut butter—then I remembered.

Memories of Dude’s crazy escapades played in my mind and my eyes blurred. I lathered the spread over my crusty bread like a broken-hearted schoolgirl and ate my feelings.

“Yo, Roundeye!” Mushiro was at the door.

“Momb ign ere!” I said with a mouthful.

Mushi came into the living room, mocking caution and concern. “Rez, man, you speakin’ in tongues?”

I pointed at my mouth as he plopped down on the recliner. “Beenut budda.”

“Where’s Dude?”

I finished chewing and swallowed. “At Harvard, supposedly. They took him, and suspended me indefinitely.”

“You serious, man? That’s bullshit. How about Kronos? They give him anything for casting against you in public?”

I shrugged. “They said he would be punished accordingly, or some such bullshit.”

“Yeah,
punished
my ass. They aren’t gonna do nothing to him. Imagine you or I did that? We be up shit creek with one paddle.”

“It’s
without
a paddle, Johnny.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind.”

I went to the kitchen and grabbed two warm beers, my last two, and made a mental note to grab some on my next trip out. Going against a demon like Azazel was bad enough, but without beer? No thanks.

I sat back down and handed Mushi a
warm one
.

“How long you think?” he asked.

“I dunno. Elder Wizard Maximillian said indefinitely, whatever that means.”

“Means they say jump, you jump.”

“And what about you, Mushiro? What if you’re told to leave kids behind again?”

He didn’t answer. He
had
stayed behind with me, but never protested or moved against Kronos. If I hadn’t said anything, would he have? Was everyone who left the children behind evil? Or was I the oddball? The city had voted on the law, after all.

He finally answered. “It’s a tough one, Rez…what if the Cain
do
have a disease or something?”

“You mean like the one we were all immune to?”

My sarcasm was apparent.

The possible disease theory was an oft-used cop-out. The city’s remaining doctors could test them and find out, but of course that never happened. It didn’t really matter. The idea that the Cain were tainted was already embedded in the minds of the Witnesses. Seven years had passed since the Culling, therefore the youngest a Cain child could be was seven years old. In a decade they would all be adults, and no one would know which of them had voluntarily drunk the blood of the dying to live. Furthermore, the Cain adults were rumored to still be able to reproduce, and their children were born normal—that is to say, they had no red stain about their mouths.

“I think Melody wants to meet with me tonight,” I said, changing the subject.

Mushi’s eyes lit up. “Really? After what she said last night?”

“What’d she say?”

“You were in bathroom—I asked if she was into you.”

“And…”

“Well, at first she just smiled, but then she laughed. Said, ‘Wizards and witches don’t mix.’”

“Seriously?” I was deflated.

“Yeah, sorry, bro. What makes you think she wants to see you?”

“There was a note in my door. It said ‘Meet me at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum at midnight.’ It was signed M. S.”

“M. S., like Melody Stone...” He seemed to reconsider the possibility and then said, “I don’t know…maybe she changed her mind.”

“Maybe it’s a trap,” I said.

“You want some backup? If it is a trap, you can’t use magic.”

I laughed at that. “If someone is trying to kill me, I’ll defend myself, regardless of the council’s suspension.”

“Maybe someone is setting you up to use magic to get you in more trouble—someone like Kronos.”

I thought about that for a moment. “No, doesn’t sound right. Kronos is an asshole, but he isn’t petty. Besides, he spent all that time training me—why would he try and ruin me?”

“He hates you.”

“True, but only because I’ve given him so much slack.”

“Yeah.” Mushi laughed. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Thanks. You hungry?”

“Always.” He smiled. “You wanna see what they got at soup kitchen today?”

I eyed the peanut butter. It wasn’t really doing much for me, so we headed out.

A
t 11:30 p.m. that night, Mushiro and I headed to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. I wanted to arrive early to get a good look at the meeting place before anyone showed up. I couldn’t use magic, but no one said anything about guns. I stashed a pistol in the small of my back before leaving. Ben hadn’t shown since earlier at Trinity Church. I hoped he would—he makes an excellent spy.

We cut out the scooter motors a few blocks from the church and walked the rest of the way. The night was warm and a soft breeze blew at our backs. The stars twinkled brightly. Seen through the spell shield, they sparkled like multicolored gems in the sky. The shield itself resembled the aurora borealis. Flares of purples, oranges, and blues arched and curled in on themselves—it was a hippie’s dream.

Mushiro opened his spell book, recited an incantation, and reached a clawed hand toward the museum as we approached.

“What you got?” I asked.

Mushi stopped and focused on something unseen. His brow furled, and he looked to be listening intently. The spell was one of detection. It enhanced the caster’s innate ability to sense magic.

“Nothing, Rez.”

The news didn’t ease my paranoia. If anything, the lack of any sort of magic made me apprehensive. Melody wanting to meet me here was strange enough, but what was the big secret? If it
was
Melody, it reasoned that some residual magical energy would be detected by Mushi. But if not Melody, then who? The letter had gone up in flames after I read it, which suggested a magical messenger. Was this a woman’s idea of romantic mystical intrigue?

We approached the museum and ducked around a corner to scope it out. I checked my pocket watch—eleven thirty. The streets were quiet…too quiet. Or maybe it was just my nerves. I hadn’t gone without magic in the two years I had been using it. Now I felt as naked as a turtle without a shell. Mushiro and I casually walked around the perimeter of the museum. It was one of the many public buildings that was still kept up. After the Culling, priceless paintings, books, furniture, and statues had been removed from places like this and were now kept in secure vaults. The only things of interest that remained in the museum were the gardens, which were open to the public twenty-four seven.

Mushiro took out his spell book and recited the incantation again, raising his hand to the back of the building.

“I don’t know, Rez. If there is anything, it’s too faint to get a lock on.”

“What do you mean,
if
?”

Mushi scrunched up his face. He looked frustrated. “I thought I sensed something, but when I tried to focus, it went away.”

“All right, you keep a lookout and give a holler if you see anything. I’m going in.”

“Careful, Rez.”

“You too.”

I entered the greeting area where, back in the day, one would pay before venturing into the main building. Signs pointed to the library and children’s section downstairs. Behind me, a metal stairway led to the upper floor. Turning, I scanned what used to be the museum’s restaurant. Quietly, I ventured down a hallway where the walls gave way to old stone. The place felt like a tomb. Where once had sat a great collection of humanity’s achievements and history, now only shadows remained. To my left, a hall ran the length of the gardens. To my right, the stone wall led on for twenty feet before opening up to rooms where once sat half-ruined statues from all over the world.

I stayed to the right in the deeper shadows near the outer wall. The place smelled of damp stone with a hint of flowers. To my left, the gardens came into view beyond the arches and pillars of masonry. Nothing moved.

The gardens took up the entire center of the building—a big rectangle adorned with lush vegetation and impressive pillars randomly scattered about well-kept walkways of loose stone. Directly above, four stories up, was a ceiling of frosted glass. The place reminded me of an old castle with a courtyard.

Standing in the shadows in the open first level, I could make out twin staircases with curved banisters leading to a dark doorway arched in pillars, shaped by the hands of masons long ago. I reached for my pistol and found some comfort in its weight.

Five arches lined each of the four walls of the garden’s ground floor. Above those, on the next floor, sat large open windows with short stone railings. These were arched as well, but with a different design that reminded me of gothic church windows. The same design was mimicked by the third and fourth floors. Staring up at the glass ceiling above, the gardens gave the illusion of being on the outside of four buildings rather than inside one large one.

I needed to get to higher ground since the multitude of archways looking out over the gardens offered too many shadows. I reached the far wall and took the wide stair up to the second level as quietly as possible. When I reached the top, I stopped and listened to the silence. Looking down the dark hall, I thought I saw something move on my right. Whoever left me the note knew I was here—no point in stealth.

“Melody, that you?

No answer came.

This whole business with Azazel had made me paranoid. Had I been seeing things? I had an overwhelming urge to use magic. The spell to enhance my sight and hearing teetered on the tip of my tongue. If I were to cast, the council would probably know instantly. They were likely monitoring me with the same spell they used at Harvard to ensure apprentices didn’t try mental casting without supervision.

I went in the opposite direction of the movement I had seen. Taking this route, maybe I could intercept whoever was playing games with me. If this was a trap, I wasn’t about to follow my attacker. I went left through long, empty rooms. The first, a high-ceilinged chamber with a spiraling floor design, offered no secrets. I continued on to the next and walked to one of the small balconies overlooking the gardens. Below, the stonework at the center of the garden shone brightly in the moonlight spilling in through the frosted glass. I scanned the shadows among the pillars and tall plants—nothing. I was beginning to get a bad feeling. If Melody had sent the note, why would she play cat and mouse? I figured maybe she didn’t know I was restricted from using magic, and was expecting me to find her with it.

Across the courtyard gardens, a hooded figure caught my eye. It stood upon the small second floor balcony opposite mine, waiting. Whoever it was seemed too big to be Melody. I watched and waited. A hand rose slightly, beckoning. I stood motionless, weighing my options. Finally, I decided to take my chances and made my way to the other side of the building. No goons flew from the shadows to intercept, and I reached the balcony shortly.

The hooded figure waited, overlooking the gardens with its back to me. I approached apprehensively, the gun in my hand offering only a slight sense of security. Whoever this was, it sure as hell wasn’t Melody. I jumped as a humming, egg-shaped energy field suddenly encapsulated us. I recognized the spell, one which bent light so as to make whoever was inside the dome virtually invisible to onlookers.

A wizard
.

“Rezner, you have not come alone,” said a man’s voice, which I faintly recognized.

“You didn’t ask me to.”

The hooded figure nodded, still staring out over the courtyard—though I sensed that he saw me somehow.

“What would you say…if I told you there’s a way you can help the children of the Cain?” he asked.

“I would say that I don’t like hypothetical questions.”

A soft chuckle escaped him.

Where have I heard that voice before
?

He was talking low, nearly whispering, but there was a timbre behind his inflection which resonated in my memory. M. S.—if not Melody Stone, then who?

“There are those among us who disagree with the laws against the children of the Cain…and we’ve taken action.”

I didn’t take the bait, but waited.

“We’ve been watching you for some time, Rezner.”

“Who’s
we
?” I asked.

The hooded figure turned around and my mind screamed recognition—now the voice seemed obvious. Elder Wizard Maximillian Snelbecker regarded me with expressionless eyes.

“We are a select few,” he said, “those who would break the law in pursuit of justice.” “We, like you, believe the innocent children of the Cain should be protected. We’ve established a safe place for them.”

“But you spoke out against such action. You suspended me over this very issue!”

Maximillian nodded. He looked tired. “The council passed judgment, not I. I have ever been the voice for the Cain children. The rest of the council knows where I stand. The vote was nearly unanimous. I agree with them to an extent—the Cain cannot be kept in the city. It would cause an uproar.”

I studied his eyes, but he gave nothing away. Still, I didn’t trust him. “If your words are true, then you’ve committed treason,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow, and I sunk under his intensity. “Righteous to the end, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” I told him, “but really, I just don’t see it.”

He chuckled and the tension inside the hiding spell lessened considerably. I couldn’t begin to imagine Maximillian’s power. He had only been mildly annoyed by my accusations, and the residual energy was suffocating.

“Has Azazel come to your dreams yet?” His bushy eyebrows made a big V as I failed to hide my shock.

“How did you know?” was all I could manage to say.

He looked at me as though I were simple. “It was in your report that he nearly possessed you.”

I tried to think of a way to avoid the truth, but I found I didn’t want to. I was scared shitless over Azazel, and I was in way over my head. I mean, a demon is bad enough, but this dude sounded worse than the devil himself, and by a few accounts they were one and the same. “He came to me last night,” I said after a moment.

Maximillian nodded as if he had expected as much. “What does he want from you?”

I was unable to control myself. “He wants me to lower the Spell Shield in exchange for my sister,” I told him.

Did he cast a truth spell on me
?

“Of course I cast a truth spell on you. I am under its influence as well.” He indicated the dome humming around us.

“Wait—so
you
have to tell the truth in here as well?”

“Indeed,” he said, “this type of spell is commonplace in dealings among wizards. You have been yet unaware of it because you were an apprentice. Not everyone is privy to such information. Usually each wizard casts half the spell to prove to the other that they are both under the influence of the dome of truth. If the wizards do not cast the same spell, it will not work.”

Maximillian’s head twitched, as if he’d heard something, and his hazel eyes searched sporadically. I listened as well, but heard nothing beyond the humming of the dome.

“Excellent,” he said with a smile.

I glanced around. “What?”

“I’ve suspected for some time that Azazel has set a contract on my head. It seems you were followed. There are…” he sniffed the air subtly, “seven assassins.”

“Assassins?”

“Yes. Azazel and I have…history.” He perked up once again. “They have not noticed Wizard Mushiro yet.”

A shadow passed over the garden skylight, and another moved in the corner of my eye. The hairs on my arms stood on end.

“We have been trying to flush out this crew for a long time. Thank you.” He smiled, and from under his robes, took out a wand and handed it to me.

“Orion Rezner, you are hereby granted full title and magic privileges of a wizard.”

Just then, shadows began to dance upon the walls and skylight, and I cast a spell to enhance my senses. The darkness fled, and moonlight illuminated every corner of the passage, but the fleeting shadows remained as such. “What the hell are they?” I asked.

“Others like you. But unlike you, they have given in to Azazel.” He glanced at my gun as I withdrew it. “Aim for the legs if you can.”

I turned back to him. “Is there a chance they can be saved?”

Maximillian nodded. “There’s a chance. However, it is slim. Those who come under the influence of one as powerful as Azazel are rarely recovered.”

I recited a fire spell as he spoke. The shadows were now whipping around the courtyard, and a low, guttural growl began to echo throughout. I took strength in Elder Wizard Maxmillian’s stoic demeanor—he didn’t seem rattled in the least.

He told me to take a few deep breaths and then snatched a spell book out of thin air with his left hand. I gawked at him, amazed.
Wizards can’t
…But then I noticed the spell book was attached to a contraption up his sleeve, something like an assassin’s retractable dagger.

“Trust me,” he said. “Hold your breath…
now
.”

I did as I was told, and Maximillian began chanting a spell quietly. The dome of truth dissipated, and fleeting shadows solidified. Seven witches and wizards stood on the opposite balcony and haunted the curved windows along the side corridors. The eldermaster finished his spell, and the robed spell casters jumped back.