Soul Mayhem: Zed's Chronicles of the Parallel Universe Disruptions Page 7

oOo

  Chapter 9

  On the short drive home, I noticed Leopold was not only quieter than usual, but also, he had a worried expression. I decided to wait until we were on our own territory before asking questions. I checked my pocket and yes, there was a folded note resident there. I decided to also wait until we were inside before examining it. I busied myself checking we weren’t carrying any spy spells, applying progressively stronger sigils in the process.

  One triggered a spark and brief flare on Dena’s jacket shoulder, and she jumped. “What—?”

  I held up my hand. “When we’re inside.”

  She nodded, as did Leopold. I guessed he, too, was checking for the same thing. A moment later there was another flare, this time from the back of my suit jacket collar. I continued to run sigils. Nothing else reacted, which meant either we had discovered everything, or the Tir-Kiran mages were far more powerful and their spells subtle.

  Leopold decided to double check our boundary walls and their shield spells before coming inside. Dena and I headed to the basement, where he would join us later. It was well-warded against intrusions and eavesdropping.

  To my surprise, Hurian had delivered. A book, apparently old, its cover torn, with page corners folded, lay in the center of the pentagram. Dena shrieked and rushed forward.

  “Stop.” My instruction was sharp.

  She turned and looked at me. “You think it could be—what—a booby-trap?”

  “Always check, even when you’re excited. It’s a prudent step to take and could save your life. You assume it’s from Hurian. I don’t trust him that much and it might not be from him.” I didn’t add that I’d opened a passageway for the demon to deliver the book and no one else, demon or not, should have the power to deliver anything. Lucifer, of course, was the exception. Otherwise, we could be removing bombs and other dangerous devices every day.

  “Oh. Yes, I understand.” Her approach to the pentagram slowed, as she waited for me to catch up. Her enthusiasm hadn’t diminished.

  I stood beside the pentagram and ran some minor spells. Nothing happened to alarm me. “Your talents should allow you to check whether there’s any spell attached. Try.”

  Dena frowned. “I can detect sulfur, some traces of the demon, but otherwise it seems to be what it is. A book.”

  “Good. Retrieve it and let’s sit and check it out.”

  I sat and watched as Dena leaned over to retrieve the book and, with it firmly in hand, she sat in the chair beside me.

  She lay the book carefully out on the small table beside her chair and opened it to the first page. Her concentration was intense. She turned a page then another page. Another. And burst into laughter. Tears ran down her face.

  I waited.

  At last she regained control. “It’s—it’s a seed catalog. According to the details on the first page it was printed about a hundred years ago.” She held the book out to me. “Have a look.”

  Intrigued, I took the small tome and weighed it in my hands. I felt the texture of the soft cover, and of the first three or four pages. Dena watched, intrigued. I thumbed the pages as though I was shuffling a deck of cards. I drew a small sigil. A second one. I placed the book back on Dena’s table.

  “Have another look.”

  She lifted the book off the table. “What—why, that’s a different book. The cover’s different. The pages are—” She opened the book. “These are different. Handwritten. It—it is a book of spells. Ancient. Is this Latin?”

  “Yes. The text is a mix of Latin and old English. Possibly some other languages, too. My second sigil was to protect the book’s condition, so you will be able to handle it without risk of deterioration or damage. I have a task for you. Your sisters will help; it will seem a boring task and you need to share the workload. Copy by hand every spell, all the text, sidebars, stray notes, and comments. Don’t include the illustrations; you can photograph every page and include the images in your work files. Try to decipher, translate, and enter the text, word for word. Do not—under any circumstances—attempt to use any of the spells, no matter how simple they may seem.”

  “Hmm. This is going to be time -consuming.”

  “You have other tasks?”

  “Yes. Working for you is a full-time job. Besides—”

  “Besides?”

  “I was going to discuss this with you. I want to—I believe I can—with Morwen—” Dena was squirming.

  I smiled. “Dena, stop struggling. Tell me. I won’t be upset, whatever you are trying to say.”

  She looked at me. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded.

  Dena took a deep breath. “I believe I can manage Finders. Morwen can help me. There.” She folded her hands.

  I raised my eyebrows. I hadn’t expected that. I sat back, half-closing my eyes, thinking. I raised my hand when I felt Dena stirring; she was filled with anxiety.

  “Stop. I’m thinking.”

  She relaxed.

  I realized Dena had a valid point. She knew more about Finders than anyone else except me. I counted. Three years. She had been my assistant for three years, ever since she graduated from Oxford. She’d watched, monitored, assisted, and could second guess me most times. Dena knew everyone in Finders, was familiar with a majority of our clients, and had the authoritative presence to convince clients she was more than capable of handling their affairs and concerns despite her youth.

  “Agreed. Six months trial. You and I will share Morwen. Starting Monday. We’ll negotiate your salary and benefits on the weekend.”

  “What?” Dena screamed. She jumped up and hugged me, close and exciting—at least for me. “Oh, Zed, thank you. I won’t fail you, I promise.”

  She was sitting on top of me when Morwen and Leopold entered the basement. Morwen sniggered, “About time.” Leopold grinned and said nothing.

  Dena jumped up, her face pink. “Oh—Oh, I was thanking Zed.”

  Morwen grinned. “I could tell.”

  “No, not that—Zed agreed, I can manage Finders. It’s so exciting. We’re going to share you.”

  “Whoa. I’m not sure I’m shareable.”

  Dena stood. She bit her bottom lip. “You said. You said—”

  “I’d work with you. I’m not sure I can work for two masters.”

  The byplay intrigued me. Morwen had never indicated any negative feelings. I think she noticed my expression, because she walked over and hugged me. Her body didn’t feel anything like Dena’s.

  “Zed, I would find it exciting to work in Finders, assisting my big sister. I’m not certain, however, I could fill her shoes in any way, as your PA. I’m different. I’m not in l—”

  “Morwen, stop.” Dena was blushing and furious. “Zed, I’ll need her help, full time. Sharing would be impractical. What can we do?” The last was a cry for help.

  “I agree, you’ll need Morwen for support. It was unfair of me to suggest otherwise. I’ll think of something.” I placed my hand in my jacket pocket. The folded paper jolted my memory. I tugged the missive out and unfolded it. Everyone watched in silence. Even Leopold was intrigued. I opened the note and read it to myself.

  The second time, I read it aloud.

  “We are prisoners, slaves, of the Tir-Kiran. We are human. HELP.”

  Damn.

  I handed the paper to Leopold.

  Dena said, “Someone put it in your pocket at the embassy?”

  “Yes, when the staff were removing dishes, tidying up.”

  “I saw,” Leopold said.

  “Wow!” was Morwen’s contribution.

  “What will you do?” Dena asked.

  “For the moment, add it to my list of lists. My first task tomorrow is to begin searching for this nest of soul stealers.”

  “Yes.” As usual, Leopold was succinct.

  My mind raced. “Dena, enlist Victoria’s assistance with teaching Hurian and Leopold to read. You are going to be busy. Contact the HR firm and get them to search for replacements for the people we
removed, plus an operations manager. Except the managing director, of course.”

  “Already underway.”

  “Good. I want to talk to Hunter. He must agree we can communicate his whereabouts to his father, probably without telling him he’s the son of the king of the underworld. With Victoria, you, and me, as soon as possible. Leopold, the Tir-Kiran are shape shifters, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Both Morwen and Dena appeared shocked.

  “Red Dragons?” I continued.

  “Yes.”

  “Dangerous? To humans?”

  “Yes.”

  This was an exciting conversation. There was a nest of shape shifters—Red Dragons, well known as the strongest of that genus—in the middle of Londin, and were mainly military, based on what I’d seen. Fortunately, I hoped, they hated soul stealers.

  “How many? More than two or three hundred?”

  “Yes.” Leopold thought for a moment, waved his hand from side to side. “Closer to thousand.”

  This required escalation. I couldn’t deal with eliminating soul stealers as well as protecting Londin from shapeshifters. Given their history, this collection of Red Dragons would soon attempt to rule humans, here, in this city, and progressively, across the country and even across the world. I was in deep, very deep. And somehow, I had to rescue humans held prisoner in the embassy. I wondered when the other shoe would drop. I suspected that would be Lucifer and his son.

  “I think I’m going to find a desert island to retire to.”

  Dena wrapped an arm around me and laid her head on my shoulder. I enjoyed the comfort. “We’ll help you. Leopold will, too.”

  Leopold said, “To the end.”

  oOo

  Chapter 10

  I promised—well, I mentioned—there was a story behind how I ended up with three wards and a bodyguard. There is still a mystery—we don’t know why the girls, triplets, were born three years apart. I’ve run DNA tests, and they are identical to the nth degree; the tests can’t tell them apart.

  Let me set the scene. After the two police officers drove off, I edged the Stanley Electric Steamer back onto the road and continued at a remarkable speed of twenty mph. Other vehicles streamlined roared past at what I’d thought to be impossible speeds. They all ignored my chugging along at a far more sensible speed while I reflected on the potency losses in the potions I had been brewing. I wondered if there was any causality between that and the Disruption; perhaps the lead up had impacted the way potions worked.

  Every so often the highway ribbon rippled as aftershocks rattled through this universe. I wondered whether I was still in the same universe because every so often the landmarks—houses in small villages, rock outcrops, trees—seemed to shift slightly. The changes now were almost imperceptible. The shock waves gradually reduced and faded away. I concluded here was here and I would never know how this universe, wherever it was, related to my origin. To take my mind off everyone—friends, family—well, a distant aunt—and fellow mages, all part of an academic network, I decided to regard this change as an adventure. I had to push myself to take on that attitude, I’ll admit. I possessed a small cottage in the north and a house in Londin and wondered whether I’d have access to those in this universe.

  As I neared Sheffield, I noticed damaged vehicles on the roadside. An occasional police car, its lights twitching, attended, and at times accompanied by a red cross vehicle, so presumably some of the vehicle occupants had been injured. Not wishing to draw attention to myself, I continued, avoiding the occasional wreck and debris in the middle of the road.

  Eventually I decided to find a pub where I could have lunch and headed to a small village with which I was familiar; it was about five miles from the highway. Fifteen minutes later I reached my destination and chugged slowly through the village. It was older than I remembered, with very few people visible on the High Street. This, in my universe, was a thriving and energetic village, so very different. I drove slowly to the pub—the Pig and Thistle—and it had none of the appeal I recalled. I drove further on, my disappointment growing. Thatch roofs were in disrepair, front fences were falling apart, doors were half open, and some were unhinged. Gardens were either nonexistent or completely overgrown; indeed, there was a feeling of decay all around.

  My earlier experience with the police officers gave me confidence my magic would work in this universe and I strengthened my shields. I also increased my sensory reach; if something here in this gloomy and somewhat deserted village was likely to attack me, I wanted an early warning.

  I drove further, past a large house with its walled garden, a small school, its windows broken and no children in view, and onto a rougher patch of road that wound slowly up a small rise and past a three-story house that would fit into someone’s nightmare. Casement windows pierced the stone walls without any attempt to achieve a balance. The walls themselves were blackened, as though the stonework somehow had given up life. Three chimneys poked up above the slate tiles of the roof, and only one was pushing out smoke in tiny gasps and dribbles, black, and sulfurous-looking. Even though the sun was peeking through the clouds the house was shadowed. I could feel a presence, old, evil, and it too, was decaying.

  I drove on.

  The road continued down the small hill, away from the village, and after a mile or two the sense of evil diminished, the road surface improved. The next farmhouse was freshly whitewashed, and its thatch roof was in good repair. The road wove through a small hamlet and along fields of wheat, golden and red-poppy strewn. I sighed with relief.

  Something caught my attention. At I couldn’t determine what, and I stopped, well to the side, out of the way of traffic. There were waves of pain, of near death, of water, of attempts to provide help. The sources were young, very young. Intrigued, I got out of the Stanley and walked along the road. The waves strengthened with urgency and I half-stumbled down the side of the road, through a small opening in the hedge, which in turn, led to a copse on the edge of a muddy pond.

  Three young girls, wet and bedraggled, were struggling to drag a body out of the water. The heavy mud was defeating their efforts and the body, I sensed, was more than half-drowned; someone had beaten it half to death before the drowning began. I sketched a sigil. The girls almost fell as the body lightened. I sketched a second sigil, small, and the mud firmed and dried between the struggling group and the higher bank of the pond. By the time I reached them, they had succeeded in pulling the body to the bank and one girl, apparently the oldest, was attempting to resuscitate the body. I checked; there remained a spark of life.

  I said, “Move to one side, please. I’ll help.” The girl almost reluctantly stood back, and I held the man’s hands at his wrists and transferred a small life charge. I tipped him on his side, to allow water to drain from his mouth. He coughed and coughed. He was cold and wet. “My car’s on the road. There are two blankets on the back seat. Will one of you run and get them for me?”

  The oldest girl, I learned later her name was Dena, said to her younger sister—Morwen, I learned later, “Run. Quickly.”

  I continued with my ministrations. Morwen was very fleet of foot and returned with the two blankets in what seemed only seconds. I wrapped one around the man, Leopold, we later decided his name would be, and I held the second out to the youngest child, Victoria, who was shivering, and said, “All of you, wrap up and get warm.”

  I sketched another sigil to dry everyone’s clothing. The blankets would automatically generate warmth when their spells detected they were in use. I rested back on my heels and took the moment to assess the situation. The girls were relaxing into the warmth of their blanket and their rescuee was showing more signs of life. The girls were surprisingly identical. They also were hiding an astounding amount of fear. The thoughts of the man were incoherent. There were three backpacks further up the bank, presumably belonging to the girls.

  I reached for Dena’s hand. It was cold although her life signs were strong. I did the same for her two si
sters. Little Victoria—she was only ten years old, then—was colder, and I infused a tiny amount of life force to strengthen her. After a few minutes more, the girls began to show more life. Their energy forces were strong and apart from that tremendous fear of some unknown—at least to me—threat, they were quickly recovering from their small adventure.

  Leopold remained unconscious. He would live, I had no doubt. I explored, and he was free from serious injuries. He had a couple of broken ribs, mild concussion, and hypothermia from his immersion in cold water. His near -drowning hadn’t improved matters for him. I decided we could transfer everyone to my Stanley and gave instructions.

  “Can you two younger girls carry your belongings to the road? You can put them in the luggage hold in the rear of my Stanley. Just be careful to not touch the cooker; it’s hot.” I looked at Dena. “I’m going to carry our drowning victim to the road; I may need you to assist?” Leopold was a tall man, and while I’m young and fit, his two hundred pounds or more would be a struggle.

  Dena said to her sisters, “Scoot. Take our packs.” She stood, ready to help me with the unconscious body.

  I used a small sigil to ease the weight burden and Dena helped me lift him to a fireman’s carry position, careful of his fractures. Even with the help of the sigil I struggled up the bank and along to the road where my Stanley was waiting.

  Dena said, “Oh, what a strange car. What is it?”

  “A Stanley Electric Steamer,” I grunted, as I lowered Leopold to the ground. “Open the rear door. We might have to take our friend here to hospital if he doesn’t soon show recovery signs.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dena said. Her two sisters had stowed their belongings in the hold and were waiting beside the car. Dena introduced herself and her two sisters and I told them my name. They were satisfied Zed was an appropriate name.

  I opened the rear door. “I’ll lift him onto the back seat. You two,” I indicated Morwen and Victoria, “can sit next to him. I’ll wrap our stranger in the blanket, and you both can share the other one. Your sister can sit in the front passenger seat, and I’ll turn on the heating.”