half-lich 02 - void weaver (10 page)

Finally, when Isaac brought the story to a close with his final confrontation with Nyx, Jim finally spoke.

“You dueled with her,” he said. “That part was true?”

Isaac nodded. “She was powerful, Jim. Not as powerful as she could have been had she been in possession of a worthy vessel, but I could feel the power bubbling beneath the skin. I only made it out alive because she chose to flee instead of continuing the fight. If she had stayed… I’m not sure we would be standing here today.”

Jim nodded. “Then it’s true… the camera
was
made by a Void Weaver; it isn’t a fake.”

“I saw it in action. It was unlike any magical artifact I have ever seen before.”

“I haven’t either. I would have loved to be able to see it working.”

“You may still have a chance.”

“What do you mean?”

“The film reels at the Cinema Royale… they were like the Polaroids that would come out of the camera—filled with ghosts. A Void Weaver must have had a hand in that.”

“Maybe it was the same Void Weaver.”

“The thought had crossed my mind also.”

“If I know this kind of technology, and I think I do, then the projector itself isn’t special; we would have to find the camcorder.”

“It’s possible the Cinema Royale’s records hold some information that can help us, although I doubt it. If Void Weavers are as secretive as you say, he or she would have left fake trails and fraudulent paperwork.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. But Isaac…” Jim pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, but they kept slipping down, likely because of the sweat on his skin. “Do you understand why I went to such risks to help you escape?” he asked.

“I think I do, but that’s not important. The important thing is that I have kept up my end of the bargain, and now you have to also. If you know something about me that I don’t, you have to tell me on your honor as a fellow Mage of House Pluto.”

“You’re right,” Jim said. He took a breath, waiting a beat, and said, “From the moment I saw you enter the courtroom tonight, I knew you were different.”

“Different how?”

“Your aura has changed. Shifted. The alteration is subtle, but it’s my job to know the aura of every mage operating within Ashwood so that I can identify their magical fingerprints, and yours is not the same as it was the last time we spoke a couple of weeks ago. At first I didn’t know what the shift was, but then the camera was brought to me, and I analyzed it… and I thought of you. It was the weirdest thing. Touching the camera made me think of you, and your aura. When the realization came, it was like a stroke of lightning, but I needed to be sure. I needed you to tell me what you’ve told me.”

“Should I be worried?”

Jim removed his glasses altogether and began rubbing them clean with the hem of his shirt. “Yes,” he said. “I won’t sugar coat this, Isaac; there’s a taint to your aura. I don’t know how bad it is or if it’s spreading, for the moment it seems contained, but it’s
present
.”

“What exactly should I be scared of? Is it going to kill me?”

“It might.”

Isaac took a deep breath. Nodded. “Don’t keep me waiting, Jim.”

“I don’t know when the taint formed,” Jim said, “At first I thought exposure to the camera and its power may have done it, but then you said you had dueled with Nyx. I don’t know what Nyx is except for what I have learned from the books in the vault, but if any of it is true, then Nyx is a creature of the Void, and the things she touches are tainted by it.”

This sounds familiar
, Isaac thought, remembering what Alice had said about Nyx’s Pain Children. She had told him they were spirits which had been
changed
. The mirror, likewise, had likely been altered by Nyx’s magic, as had the Xiphos sword now in Alice’s possession, as had Alice herself—and probably Emily, too. Everything she touched changed in some way.

Did Isaac expect to be any different?

“So, what does this mean?” Isaac asked.

“Void magic is powerful, ancient, and largely a mystery to many of us. It doesn’t harmonize with our souls in the way magic from the Tempest does, and only Void Weavers know how to wield it—if the records are to be believed. It starts with a taint, then the taint spreads and spreads. Your magic becomes powerful, more powerful than you could imagine. And then, like a cancer, it kills you.”

“That’s it?” Isaac asked, “That can’t be it. There has to be more.”

“I’m glad you asked. Come with me—I want to show you something.”

CHAPTER 9

To Dust

Ashwood flickered by, a carousel of light, sounds, and images, as Cameron’s bike rolled down the street. As entire neighborhoods morphed and transformed, some growing and others shrinking like reflections in a house of mirrors, Alice found herself lost once more in her own thoughts; only this time they were of Isaac. Though she had heard nothing from him this last week, she maintained faith that he was okay, and that he would be out soon. But it seemed now as though Isaac was in more trouble than he had let on, and she was wondering if she had made the right choice in deciding not to help him.

Sure, the choice had been made, but it was one that could be un-made, right? They could, at any point, turn the bike around and head to wherever he was being kept. Alice could turn herself in, throw herself at the feet of the magistrate, and they could let Isaac go. Not only that, they would help Alice and Isaac fight Nyx.

But if there was any chance of that, then Isaac would have suggested it.

The Harley pulled onto the street where Raegan lived, and Cameron dismounted. Alice followed, removing her helmet and making a scan of the neighborhood. It was quiet here tonight, there didn’t appear to be any shady types lurking around, and there wasn’t an adult store in sight. Where
was
everybody?

Cameron pocketed the key to the Harley, then pressed his palm flatly against the body of the bike and closed his eyes. Alice felt a warm, tingly rush rise through her body, and suddenly found her heart filled with an urge to step the
hell
away from the bike. It was a bomb about to explode, or a wild animal about to attack. It didn’t matter which. All that mattered was that Alice walk away from the bike and toward the sidewalk before whatever terrible thing was about to happen, happened.

Only nothing did.

Cameron removed his hand from the bike and walked up to her. When he saw her puzzled—alert—expression, he immediately dropped his swagger. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think that would affect you.”

“What the hell did you do?” Alice asked.

“Made sure my bike doesn’t get stolen while we’re here.” Cameron’s smile lit up his face. “Best damn security system on the market. Won’t stop the bike from getting run into by a car, but it’ll stop fools from getting near it.”

As they began to walk toward the building door, Alice said, “When this is over, remind me to hire your services. I have a few things I could use you for.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I have to decline.”

“Decline? Why?”

“Because I’ve never accepted money for sex and I won’t take yours, no matter how hot you are.”

Alice rolled her eyes and walked ahead of him
.
The front door opened into a dark throat which judging by the darkness didn’t see any kind of light until the late hours of the day. Alice pulled her phone from her pocket, flicked the flashlight on, and immediately scanned the row of letterboxes stuck along the left wall. There weren’t any nameplates on these, but she knew Raegan’s apartment number was 3B. It was so full of junk mail some of it was sticking out of the open slot.

Alice plucked one out, then another, and another.

“Just junk,” she said, and her voice bounced off the corridor walls.

“A week’s worth of junk, you think?” Cameron asked.

“Could be. God knows I get plenty.”

Cameron took his phone out and turned the flashlight on too as they proceeded up the stairs. One after the other, they climbed on hollow, wooden steps until they reached the third floor, but even before that point Alice knew something was off. The place was so dark it was almost suffocating and their footfalls thudding on the hollow steps were so loud she was sure they had alerted half the building to their presence. Yet the entire building seemed to be empty, devoid of any life except theirs.

Maybe her powers were returning, or maybe this was just good old-fashioned intuition, but she didn’t like any of this.

“This is it,” Cameron said, and he shed some light on what looked like the door to apartment 3B. He had to rub the marking on the door with his sleeve and clear the dust off it to be sure. The other apartments on this floor were also dark and quiet. Cameron knocked on the door, but no one answered. He knocked again, still nothing.

Alice reached for the door knob, which was cold to the touch as she wrapped her fingers around it, and said, “We open it.” Cameron nodded in agreement, and Alice twisted the handle until the thing turned, the mechanism clicked, and the door began to give way with a series of moans.
Unlocked.

The apartment was dark, the shades were drawn, and the windows were closed, but the act of opening the door had kicked up a cloud of dust which seemed to sparkle like a flurry of lighter-than-air diamonds as they entered the radius of Alice and Cameron’s flashlights. As the dust touched the skin on the back of Alice’s hand, she felt it prickle and crawl and
tighten
as it had on many hunts prior to this one; as it
always
did when in the presence of the supernatural.

And the supernatural was here, alright; Alice recognized the dust immediately.

“Hello?” she said into the darkness, but there was no response. In a way, she figured there wouldn’t be. “Find the light,” she said, and she entered the apartment.

Thin shafts of light streaked across the gloomy room, illuminating tiny motes of dust as they floated in the air and highlighting the layer of sparkling dust which seemed to coat
everything
. From the couch, to the coffee table, to the kitchen counter, it seemed nothing had been spared. The only question was; whose dust was this? Raegan’s? Unlikely. Helena’s body hadn’t turned to dust when Nyx had shed it, so Raegan’s wouldn’t have turned to dust either. Alice didn’t understand the reason for this, but she didn’t have to question the fact-like way in which she understood it.

Cameron found the light switch and flicked it on. Above Alice’s head was a black light fixture designed to hold six bulbs, but only three of them worked, and they were weak. So much so that the room was almost better off without them. Still, she pocketed her phone and started to look around.

The curtains on the wall were thick, brown things designed to keep out as much light as possible when drawn. Looking around, Alice spotted an old plasma screen TV stuck into a wall unit, a thin bookshelf filled with cozy mysteries and romances with pictures of hunky guys on beaches on the covers, and a wheelchair sitting stationary next to an oxygen tank. On the wheelchair, which was also covered in a thin layer of sparkling dust, was what looked like a crocheted shawl. Next to the wheelchair, on a small end table, were a crochet hook and a ball of yarn.

“That’s weird,” Cameron said. He had joined Alice next to the wheelchair.

“The wheelchair?” she asked.

“Well, yeah, that, and the yarn. How old is Raegan meant to be? I kinda thought she’d be in her twenties.”

“Crocheting isn’t only for old people. Anyway, it’s the wheelchair and the oxygen tank that get me. They couldn’t have belonged to Raegan. The man at the diner said she lived with her mom, so this could have belonged to her.”

Cameron moved away from her and inspected the unit housing the television set. “This must be Raegan,” he said.

Alice came over and looked at it. The picture was of a pretty young girl standing in a park. She had caramel skin, almond shaped eyes, and stunningly beautiful, sharp facial features. She was smiling and cradling a puppy next to her face, a tiny black lab by the look of it. Judging by the red brick building not far from where she was standing, Alice figured this was taken at Bernard Park, a few blocks away from here. The building behind her was an animal rescue center; the same one Alice had adopted Elvira from.

“Look for more of these,” Alice said. “Look for pictures of her mother.”

“Her mother? Why?”

“Because I have a feeling I know what’s happened.”

“Care to fill me in?”

“Later. Just look for pictures.”

Cameron got to work searching the TV unit and any other surface, drawer, or cabinet which could hold pictures of this woman. The growing feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, though, told her he wouldn’t find any. Sure, he may find some of Raegan, maybe other family members, but the person who used to sit in that chair was gone forever, and Alice knew exactly why.

When Alice turned the corner and saw footprints in the dust, her heart shifted into her throat and started to thump hard and fast. She craned her neck, checked for her own footprints, and found them. She found Cameron’s, too, and could trace both sets—especially when they crossed each other—around the room. But there were two distinct things about this set of footprints which caused Alice’s skin to prickle again, this time uncomfortably.

First, these footprints were unmistakably caused by someone wearing no shoes. Second, they had no visible start point, and they were leading away from the living room and into the bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Cam,” Alice said.

“What is it?” he asked, turning around to look at her.

“Here.”

Cameron approached, saw the footprints, and followed the tracks with his eyes. “What the hell?”

“I know. Just be quiet, okay?”

“Do you think Raegan made these?”

“No, at least I don’t think so.”

Alice took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor. She came across the light switch and flicked it on. A single bulb overhead buzzed to life, casting its harsh orange light in all directions. She could see the footprints more clearly now and saw that they continued on down the hall toward the bedroom; the door of which, she now noticed, was ajar.