Page of Swords (The Demon's Apprentice Book 2) (29 page)

“Who took who?” I asked him.

“Wanda!” he blurted out. “I don’t know who they were, but they took Wanda!” The words stopped me in my tracks, and my eyes went to the line of silver staves lined up outside Dr. C’s library, with Polter’s at the end. We had a whole squad of Sentinels in this house, and one of my friends had still been kidnapped.

“I couldn’t stop them,” Lucas was saying. “I tried, but . . . they just kept hitting me, telling me to go tell you what they did.”

“Did one of them have a hat?” I asked.

Lucas nodded as his cell phone played the chorus of “Cry Little Sister,” the ringtone he’d set for Wanda. We exchanged looks: his hopeful, mine dismal. He pulled the phone out and hit the answer button. Wanda’s cries came from the earpiece before he got it to his ear. They were abruptly cut off, and I could hear another, softer voice.

“I will,” he said to whoever it was, then ended the call. He handed me the phone mutely and sat down on the stairs. It beeped a few seconds later, and the screen showed that there was an incoming video. I pressed the button to “View,” and Wanda’s tear-streaked face bounced across the screen for a second before it stabilized. A hand flew across the picture and smacked against her cheek, then pulled away quickly with a curse.

“Bitch!” the unseen speaker hissed.

The view pulled back to show her with her hands chained over her head. She had on a purple skirt with striped stockings that were torn at the knees. Her purple top was also ripped, exposing her bra and the pentacle that dangled just above the lace edge of it. It glowed blue, and I could see the guy who must have hit her cradling his hand next to his chest with tendrils of steam coming off of it. Streaks of mascara marked her puffy cheeks, and her lip was bleeding.

“Smile for the camera, bitch!” a familiar voice sneered. “Make sure he knows it’s you.”

Her head came up, and for a second, she looked almost composed.

“Chance,” she said, and my stomach dropped to my toes.

Her pentacle glowed brighter, and the camera backed away. It turned and I saw Darth Fedora’s smug face fill the screen as he walked through a doorway.

“Stay by the phone, warlock. Good boy!” He laughed and I heard several voices join him before the screen went black.

The dark, cold place in my mind woke up and ate the anger and pain I was feeling. When I met Lucas’ eyes, he flinched.

“Come on,” I told him as I headed up the stairs and toward the back of the house.

The last door at the end of the hallway led to a sunroom that faced to the south, and we closed the door behind us. I didn’t want Polter or his mage cops getting in the way of this. Karl had just made things personal, and there was no way I was going to let him walk away from this. The phone rang before the door clicked shut. I hit the button to put it on speaker before I hit the green answer button.

“What?” I answered.

“You know now that we have your little girlfriend,” Fedora chuckled. “Or are you screwing the leggy redhead?”

“The only person who’s gonna get fucked tonight, Darth Fedora,” I growled, “is you.”

“I don’t think so. You have defied my Master for the last time. You will stop prying into his business. You will not interfere. You will not even speak ill of him. You will swear to this right now, or she dies. Now, swear your obedience to my Master’s will!”

He was trying to put me over a barrel by making me swear a binding oath.

“Let her go, Darth,” I said softly as I tried to buy some time to think. “It’s the only way you’re gonna make it through the night in one piece.”

“Swear it!” he yelled into the phone.

“So long as you don’t hurt her, I swear that I won’t do any more digging into your Master’s business. I’m done trying to figure out what he’s up to. So long as she lives, I promise you that. Satisfied?” I asked as I felt the binding of the oath close around me.

“Yes. You finally understand your place in the world, worm.”

“Promise me you won’t hurt her,” I demanded.

“Why? You already promised me what I want, and you can’t break it.”

“Because my promise is only binding while Wanda’s still alive and unharmed. And I promise you this, Karl. If you do hurt her, after I’m done with you, not even death will be mercy enough.” I hit the end button and handed Lucas his phone back.

“What the hell did you just do?” he exclaimed angrily.

“Gave him an empty promise,” I told him.

He shoved me away from the door and got in my face.

“You told him, no you
swore
you wouldn’t interfere! You can’t break that kind of promise!”

“Lucas, you know me better than that. I only promised him I wouldn’t look into his Master’s business. I told him I was done trying to figure out what he was doing because I already know. I never said I wasn’t gonna fuck up his Master’s world.” Lucas took a step back and gave me a thoughtful look.

“Remind me never to make a deal with you, man,” he said.

“You’ll never have to. I don’t make deals with my friends. I have a plan, but it’s dangerous.”

“More dangerous than getting chased through the woods by werewolves? More dangerous than an evil werewolf threatening to eat me?” he asked. I thought about that for a second.

“Probably.”

“I’m still in, dude. This is Wanda we’re talking about, there’s no way I’m gonna sit this out. Especially not when you’re about to put your ass on the line for her. You tell me what you need, and I’ll do it. Unless I have to hit someone, ‘cuz I kinda suck at that.”

“No punches. But I need you to do a lot of stuff, and we don’t have a lot of time. Come on,” I said as I pulled him back into the hall.

Fifteen minutes later, we’d been through my room, the attic workroom and we were standing in the foyer. I opened the storage closet under the stairs and pulled out the pistol Dr. C had loaned Collins the night before. I wrapped the gunbelt around itself, stuffed it in my backpack and handed it to Lucas.

“Whoa, man! “ he said softly. “A gun? Do you even know how to use that?”

“Dr. C taught me a few months ago. Gun safety, cleaning, maintenance, he even took me out to a range to let me fire a few rounds to make sure I hit what I was aiming at. It’s a Texas thing, I guess. That and it bugged him that he’d sent me into the fight with King with a pistol I didn’t know how to use.”

“Did you? Hit what you were aiming at?” he asked with a grin.

“Not as often as he did, but yeah, if it’s not moving and close enough, I can put a hole in it. Somewhere. Most of the time.”

“So, is this everything?” he asked, hefting my backpack with a visible effort.

I nodded and pulled the
neglenom
charm out of the side pocket.

“Now you see it,” I said as I tied it to the handle on the top.

“Now you don’t,” Lucas finished for me as it shimmered out of view. He shouldered it and gave me a determined look. “Okay, I have your gear, I know what I need to get, and who to talk to. Anything else?”

“Yeah, I need to borrow your phone again for a minute.” He handed it over, and I dialed a number.

The voice that answered on the other end was familiar and hopeful.

“Chastity…about that ride.”

Once Lucas was on his way, I turned around and faced the line of staves outside Dr. Corwyn’s library door. Every mage had a staff. Dr. C took his almost everywhere with him. He’d been like a kid at Christmas when his had arrived from Austin the week after I fought King. But I had never seen Mr. Chomsky’s. Not even when he should have been using it to hold me against the wall in his classroom. If you were going to throw down on a warlock, it only made sense to use the best tools you had, but he’d used a rod instead of his staff. So where was it?

I headed for the doors and pushed them both open. Twelve heads swiveled in my direction from around Dr. C’s desk. Polter was beside Dr. C behind it, and the Sentinels were in a loose ring around it.

“Where is Sydney’s staff?” I asked him. It felt weird using Mr. Chomsky’s first name, but it was how Dr. C knew him, and I needed him to try to answer without having to think about it.

“It was . . .” he faltered. “It’s . . . I have no idea,” he admitted.

“What is the meaning of this?” Polter snapped. “Get out!”

“Shut up, Polter,” Dr. C said as he came around from behind his desk. “I never thought about it for some reason. I haven’t seen it since I came back. Is this about the Maxilla?”

I nodded. “I think it’s the key to finding it . . . and getting it. And I think I know where it might be.”

I turned and headed for the stairs. Dr. C was right on my heels as I opened the door the Mr. Chomsky’s room and stepped inside. I went to the dresser and held my hand over the spare change and assorted junk in the silver bowl on the top. When I felt a gentle pressure and warmth against my palm, I reached down and picked up the quartz crystal, and realized that my memories of picking it up a couple of days ago were fuzzy and hard to reach until I picked it up again. I closed my eyes and tried again to imagine what happened the night he’d hidden the Maxilla.

Chomsky steps into the room. He’s in a hurry. He has less than an hour to get changed and get to the school for first period. Conference period. He goes to the wardrobe to get out of his dirty clothes . . . he sets something in the narrow space between it and the wall before he takes his shoes off and peels his clothes off. Even he isn’t sure where he’s been.

I stepped up to the wardrobe and reached into the narrow gap between it and the wall.

The second my fingers came into contact with the smooth warm wood, I saw the entire night play out in front of my eyes like a video played at high speed. If I concentrated, I could slow parts down, and I could make out details. I watched him drive past Springfield, stop in Ozark and get gas, then backtrack a little north until he made a turn by a National Forest sign. I concentrated on it, and read the words “Blue Hole” under the logo. As he went, he looked at landmarks, as if he was trying to make sure he could find his way back. A chimney from a ruined building, a fork in the road, a building . . . a bell with a frayed rope. He got out of his car and walked through a camping area, followed a trail to a creek bed, and sloshed his way to a brush covered strip of land where the stream parted and rejoined itself a few yards later. As he stood on the islet, I saw him turn, like he was facing me, and smiled, almost as if he was expecting me.

I stumbled back from the wardrobe, with his staff in my hand and tears streaming down my face. A quick swipe of my left hand across my cheeks took care of the tears, but when I turned around, I knew Dr. C wasn’t fooled.

“I need a ride. I know where it is,” I told him. “And I need to borrow your phone.”

Chapter 20

~ I’m never going to use it. ~

Every kid ever about math.

If I’d expected to just get in the car and go, I would have been really disappointed. It took almost an hour for Dr. C to get Polter out of his house. In the end, the only way he’d go was if the Sentinels came with us.

“Once you have the Maxilla, you are to deliver it straight to the Council,” Polter said as the Sentinels gathered their staves. “If you go anywhere else, the Sentinels have orders to pursue and apprehend you. In the meantime, Corwyn, I’ll be trying to talk some sense into Draeden. Make sure he brings the sword back quickly. You have just as much to lose as he does.”

“Pompous windbag,” muttered Dr. C as the Sentinels trooped out after him.

Junkyard roused himself from his spot under the kitchen table and trotted over to join us. We went out after them, and re-set the wards before we both headed for the garage, this time with both of us carrying a staff.

Four blue Crown Victorias pulled out behind us while Polter’s limousine took the first turn we came to and headed off in a different direction. Cross and T-Bone pulled in behind the Sentinels, and we headed for the freeway.

“Draeden vetoed an attack on Etienne,” he said as we came off the ramp onto Highway 44. “At least until we can get permission from Thraxus to act.”

“Which I already have. Bet that pisses Polter off.”

“Somehow, I forgot to mention that part,” he said. “If he knew, it would chap his hide that a kid, a warlock at that, was two steps ahead of him. And if he knew, he’d have done everything in his power to keep you from leaving the house.”

“Thanks, sir. For not telling him, I mean. And . . . well, you know, for all the other stuff.” I had to fight my own urge to just tell him what I had in mind, to tell him Etienne had Wanda, just hear him tell me everything would be all right.

“Look, Chance, once the Council has the Maxilla, they’ll take care of Etienne. He’s too powerful now to go after him without it. Between that, and the rubbings of the G’honn fragments, and you figuring out what he was up to, there’s really no way the Council can vote against you. Not without losing their seats.”

“They’ll still try to find a way,” I said.

“Some of them will try, probably. If it comes down to a vote, though, I want to give you a bit of advice. Before a mage or an apprentice faces judgment, they have the right to bequeath their tools and possessions to someone, usually family. In your case, I’d suggest, and strongly, that you choose your sister.”

“Why Dee?” I asked. “Why not you or my mom?”

“Because of the way I think certain members of the Council will react. I can’t go into much more detail. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

“Okay,” I said. “But the next time I do something that seems stupid, you know I’m gonna use this against you, right?”

“I’ll try to live with the knowledge,” he laughed.

A black sport bike passed us on the left, crossed the lane in front of us and took the exit for a small town called Fidelity. As we went over the overpass, I saw a group of motorcycles pull out of the parking lot of a convenience store and head for the onramp. The next hour and a half was the hardest time of the past week, as I fought to keep my big mouth shut for once. Once we got to Ozark, I had to start giving Dr. C directions, and that kept my mind off wanting to blurt the truth out to him.

Eventually, we came around the last of what felt like a thousand curves to find the sign for Blue Hole waiting for us. Dr. C took the turn in, and our six-vehicle escort followed. The Range Rover stopped, and Dr. C turned the engine off.

Ahead of us was a chain across the dirt road, with a red sign dangling from the center of it that read “Closed”. A few feet beyond it, I could see the reason why. With the rain we’d had today, the dirt road had turned into a mud pit. Deep tire tracks ran to the edge of the asphalt, and a thick trail of mud picked up from there, telling the story of a vehicle trapped in the mud and pulled to the safety of pavement.

We got out, Junkyard obviously excited to be someplace he’d never peed before. The first thing he did was find a tree to fix that. He trotted back to me with his tail wagging, obviously happy to have claimed the particular part of the world for his very own.

One of the Sentinels went up to the chained-off road, took a quick look and went back to join the knot of his blue-cloaked brethren. I pulled Mr. Chomsky’s staff out of the back and turned back to our escort to see them shedding their cloaks and stowing them in their cars. Without their cloaks, they looked a lot less intimidating. Not that they weren’t still pretty scary without them. Every single one of them carried two pistols, one of them I figured had to be a paintball gun like Dr. C’s and mine. I saw paired shoulder holsters, paired thigh rigs with tactical holsters, a couple with a shoulder holster and a hip holster on the same side. One of them was buckling on a pair of holsters that rode at the back of his belt. And then, as if they hadn’t gone far enough in the cool gear department, they took their staves and twisted the ankh on the top, and the bottom of the staff went shimmery and got sucked up into the base of the ankh. It was one of the cool things about their
paramiir
staves. I’d heard that they also turned into swords on command. That was a trick I really didn’t want to see tonight. They clipped them to their belts or tucked them into pouches, and came our way. Most of them wore some kind of hiking boots, jeans or cargo pants, and either a t-shirt or a work shirt. Nothing fancy, and nothing that they’d mind getting dirty.

“He isn’t worthy to be carrying a wizard’s staff,” one of the Sentinels said. This guy was older, with a few streaks of grey in his short brown hair. He had the square jaw and broad features that belonged on an action hero, and arms that begged for the word ‘thews’ or something just as barbaric sounding to describe them.

“Chill the hell out, Carter,” T-Bone said as he and Cross passed them. “There’s a reason he’s carrying it.” He shot me a look, and I nodded.

“Mr. Chomsky’s staff is the key to getting the Maxilla,” I said. “Believe me, I’m the last guy to go acting like I’m a mage when I’m not. The place we’re heading for is about a mile up this road. Maybe two.”

Dr. C handed me a flashlight and gave everyone a few tips on hiking after a rainstorm, then gestured for me to lead the way. We marched along in the darkness for a while, silently following the beams of our flashlights. Behind us, I could hear the occasional curse after one of the Sentinels missed their footing. Between the darkness, the hills and the mud, it took us almost an hour to get to the open field that bordered the campsite I was looking for. I stopped at a particularly deep puddle and pointed my light into it. It was brown with dirt, but there wasn’t a trace of red in it.

“We’re close,” Dr. Corwyn said. “The Maxilla’s influence kept the plagues away from this area. We should have thought to look for that.”

I gave him a shrug.

“We didn’t know there was a connection then.” I stood up and headed for the broad trail.

Around us, the night went quiet.

“Now that isn’t ominous or anything,” Dr. C said softly as he pulled his pistol.

Junkyard sniffed the air, then barked once. I kept going. About twenty yards further on, the sound of the creek reached my ears. I broke into a trot until I felt rocks shift under my boots. A few steps later, and my feet were splashing through the water. By now, the staff felt like it was pulling me forward as much as I was carrying it, and the water was over my knees before I knew it. Then I was stumbling across dry land, or at least ground that wasn’t completely under water. Dr. C was a few yards behind me as I made my way to the circle of saplings that sat in the center of the island. I pointed my flashlight at the ground in the middle of them, and saw a small circle of stones, each marked with a rune that I wasn’t familiar with. I doubted Mr. Chomsky had known them either when he carved them on to the rocks. A dozen beams of light filtered through the trees as the Sentinels slogged their way into the water. I only had seconds to do what I needed to do.

I raised the staff above my head and brought the tip down in the center of the circle of stones. The ground gave under the wood like water, and I felt a wave of magick wash over my skin as the spell released itself, and physics took over. I heard Dr. C curse a split second before he hit the ground and I found myself at ground zero as a ten-foot sphere of nothing popped back into existence over my head.

When you make a speck of nothing turn into a ten foot bubble of something in a microsecond, you have over twelve hundred square feet of area pushing everything around it to make room for the more than four thousand cubic feet inside it. Even if it’s nothing but air, that’s a lot of cubic feet to move around all at once. It was like a bomb going off a foot from my head. Of course, Mr. Chomsky had thought of that and he’d planned for it. The only problem was that you had to know you needed it. As the sphere popped into place, the tip of the staff glowed bright blue, and a cone of light formed around the top of it like an umbrella opening. I dropped to my knees and hugged the staff hard. Even doing that, I felt like I’d just been kicked in the chest and back at the same time by two giant mules. Giant mules with elephant feet. For a few seconds there was no air in my lungs, and it felt like there wasn’t any nearby, either. When I finally could breathe, I stood up and realized that math had just saved my life.

I was standing in a blast shadow about four feet wide. Beyond that four-foot circle, very little was still upright. In the sudden moment of moonlight, I could even see the ripples spreading across the stream in a widening circle. I looked up to see a hole in the clouds overhead. It wasn’t a perfect circle, at least not anymore, but I had to wonder if I’d done that, too. Then the shimmer of air in front of my face caught my eye. I put my hand up and let it touch the ripple in the air, and the illusion peeled away like cloth.

Hanging a foot over my head was the Maxilla. As swords went, it looked pretty plain. It had a straight blade etched in an alphabet I couldn’t place. The handle looked like a long leather wrapped jawbone that ran up both sides of the blade’s base to make a sort of hand guard, though someone had also put straight quillons as well. That was why the sword’s full name was
Maxilla Asini
. The jawbone of an ass. Literally. I reached for it.

When my fingers wrapped around the handle, the blade flared white, and I couldn’t see anything for a few seconds. When I could see again, I was standing face to face with the most beautiful woman in the world. Her cheekbones and nose reminded me of my mom and my sister, but her eyes and mouth made me think of Shade. When she smiled at me, I would have done anything to make sure she never stopped. Beside her stood a man in a horned headdress, silent and radiating primal power. His silence seemed to speak as loudly as her words.

“Chance Fortunato,” she said.

It was like she’d been calling my name all my life, and I’d just never been able to understand it until just then, as if I’d never known who I was until she said it. The sound of her voice was gentle and fierce at the same time, and it sounded familiar to me, like I’d been hearing it from the day I was born.

“One of My children calls out to Me in her hour of need. It is your name she calls, you who embody her faith in Me. She prays not for herself, but for those around her who suffer as she does. I will not let her prayer go unheeded while you carry the instrument of My Will in your hand.”

Her frown made me want to cower and beg for mercy, but I knew she wasn’t angry at me. She was feeling the same rage I was, only on a scale my brain would never be able to understand. I could feel the depths of love she felt for Wanda, and somehow even for me, driving her fury. Her hair took on Shade’s red coloring, and her features became sharper as her eyes flared red. The horned man beside her bared his teeth, and I felt their rage like a fire in my own heart.

When she spoke again, I could hear thunder and fire in her voice.

“Bring My comfort to her, and be My answer to her prayer. Deliver My child from her captors, and pour out My wrath among them as if from Mine own terrible hand”

Wrath I could get behind. Wrath I knew how to do. The rest . . . well, I’d wing it.

The horned man smiled at me as if he understood what I was thinking, and it seemed to make sense that he would.

“I promise you, I will,” I said, and I felt the power of that promise like no other I’d made before. I wanted to keep it like nothing else, and I knew I’d die before I failed to deliver on it. It didn’t feel so much like it bound me as I bound it to myself. I felt like I’d only just now understood what it meant to give my word.

She smiled at me, and I was in love with her.

“I know you will. Go with My gifts, freely given. I give you My daughter’s faith in Me. I give you My comfort to deliver to those who need it. I give you My Wrath as both sword and shield among your foes. And I give you words from a friend. Sydney Chomsky is proud of you, and of your mentor, Trevor. He thanks you for seeking justice on his behalf. Now, go My child. Our wills are one tonight.”

One perfect hand touched my forehead, and I learned the meaning of benediction.

I knelt on the stony spit of land, overwhelmed and awed by the presence of a God and Goddess. Not just a single Goddess, but every Goddess ever. Every God ever named. Tears streamed down my face, but I was trembling in rage. I held the Maxilla in my hand, but in front of me was a belt and a simple scabbard. I sheathed the sword and got to my feet.