8:15
Prairie had barely set her feet down on the lush growth of the garden stretching beyond the window she and Siobhan stepped into before she planted her hands on her hips and glared back through the opening. Siobhan, for her part, goggled at the garden, her mind having trouble taking in the wealth of it. There was just so much… Before she could explore that thought Prairie’s voice sna
“I think I’m going to kill that guy,” the wealth of quiet anger in her voice registered on Siobhan but the allure of the garden had her in its grip so instead of turning to look at Prairie she kept her gaze flowing over the depth and breadth of the space while she asked in an absent-minded tone, “Ivan?”
“Yes.” Prairie’s hands curled into fists, dug into her waist. “Ivan. Why did he do that?”
“Because he doesn’t want you hurt?”
“We all stand the same risk of being hurt. Its something we all volunteered for. What right does he have to decide if I’m at risk? I know I am but its okay.”
Siobhan kept trying to divide her attention between the growth around her and Prairie. She should have been more focused on her friend. She knew this. Not only because she was the one that supported everyone, that listened when they talked, that kept them connected, but because she started to feel herself slipping away as her focus went more and more towards the lush greenery around them.
“Yes. I can see that.” She kind of really couldn’t. Her vision, and her focus, was filled more and more by the impact of the garden. “So pretty.”
Siobhan swallowed hard, eyes going everywhere so fast she actually started feeling a bit dizzy. Everywhere she looked was some new flower or herb or plant or tree or… whoa, woozy. She realized she’d been spinning, like an over-wound top, as she started toppling to the side. She pressed her hand to her cheek, blinking and smiling and pivoting her head and… whoa, dizzy. Again.
Prairie jumped forward and cupped Siobhan’s elbow in her hand, bracing her. Her gaze skittered over Siobhan’s features, checking her pupils – which were probably pinpricks because the sheer awesomeness of the garden was hitting her head like a drug – and then nodding. “It is pretty. Would you like to sit for a moment?”
“I-” Siobhan looked around again, blinking at the iron bench Prairie was carefully guiding her towards. “Where did that come from?”
“Probably the same place the flowers and the trees did. Magick.”
Prairie gently pressed on Siobhan’s shoulder. Siobhan sat, fingers clenching on the strap of her bag as she gazed around some more. Taking a deep breath she tried to drag it all in, like she could inhale the awesome. And got a little woozy again.
“Here.” Prairie pulled a small water bottle out of her bag and held it out towards Siobhan. “You need a drink.”
“I feel like I’ve already had a few.”
Prairie sat down on the bench next to Siobhan then looked around with a little hum. “It must be something affecting your Magick.”
“You don’t feel it?”
Prairie shrugged. “I think its pretty. And I can appreciate how you might be particularly affected by it. But, no, I don’t really feel anything specific.” She swiveled and held up her index finger in front of Siobhan’s nose, moving it right and left slightly. “Follow my finger.”
“I didn’t get hit in the head.”
“Didn’t you?”
Siobhan frowned. She’d remember that. Wouldn’t she? “Did I?”
Prairie smiled that super soft smile that said everything was fine, everything was sweet and full of cotton-candy clouds and unicorns dancing in rainbow effluvium. “You didn’t. I meant it metaphorically. Now, please follow my finger.”
It was that or Prairie was going to hold that finger in front of Siobhan’s nose forever. That’s what Siobhan was reading from Prairie’s steady stare. So, she followed the finger. And as she did she settled into the calm Prairie emitted, instinctively matching her breaths to the steady slow in and out of Prairie’s.
“Are you hypnotizing me?” She squinted at Prairie, turning her head to do so and getting a small frown from the other woman.
“No. When did you eat last?”
“Same as you. Crepes at Kim’s.”
“Okay. Do you have any headache or dizziness?”
“A little dizziness. Why?”
“How are your eyes? Can you see out of both of them?”
“Yes. I can see your finger just fine.” A note of uncertainty seeped through Siobhan. Where were these questions going?
Prairie shifted, her gaze going over Siobhan’s features. Then she sat back with nod. “Any weakness in your arm?”
It dawned on Siobhan where this was going. “I’m not having a stroke.” As soon as she said it she started questioning it. But, wouldn’t anyone? “Am I having a stroke?”
Prairie sat back, shaking her head. “No. I think you might have gotten a little overwhelmed.”
Siobhan waved a hand, vaguely indicating, well, everything. “Who wouldn’t?”
“I understand.” Prairie’s expression said she really did, she wasn’t just placating. Siobhan could really see why Prairie was such a good nurse. Her bedside manner was awesome. “You feel good to search for the piece of the lamp now?”
Clasping her hands in her lap, Siobhan took a deep breath. The scents of the garden rushed in on the breath, weaving a promise a wonder around her mind. She centered on the interwoven fingers then let the breath out, focusing on cleansing thoughts. Another breath. Another hit to the senses. Okay. She could do this. What was going on with her? Gardens were nice. She liked gardens. She liked plants. Unlike many other alchemists she’d never fallen prey to the whispers of those plants. Of wisdom. Of power. Of euphoria. There was a reason few alchemists worked the psychopharm trade. Or rather so few rose to the top of the industry, like Nona Stroga had. Because the promise in the plants got too many of them.
Compounds could ‘open the minds’ of their users, bring out excellence, show them wonders. That was the case for anyone that used. For most the only cost was from their pockets. But alchemists who strayed down that path paid with their lives. Not that compounds killed them. Sure, they killed some of them, just like they killed a percent of all their users. That was the cost of getting high or chasing excellence or opening their conduits – all things psychopharms could do. But alchemists paid a greater cost when they used. Because alchemy, when used by an Alchemist, made them more. Their Magick grew stronger. Their minds expanded – not just for a few meros or bells but forever. And eventually they became lost in the paths of possibility.
It was the only reason Siobhan hadn’t dosed herself when she couldn’t sleep after her abduction. The temptation had been there. She’d even mixed up the compounds, ones to help her sleep and help her forget and, most insidious, help her heal. As an alchemist she could take very simple potions – the lowest healing or energy draughts. Anything more than that was the slippery slope.
“Slippery slope,” she whispered to her whitened knuckles.
Prairie leaned in, laying a gentle hand on Siobhan’s clenched fingers. “What was that?”
Siobhan took another deep breath, letting the scent of the potential in, parsing it, separating its elements until it just became the scent of verbena and eucalyptus and artemesia and dozens more that her senses separated from the weave, putting a name and a label on each, slotting each one into a cubbie in the rack in her mind so it was isolated from the others. When the rack was full, the herbs tucked back into their cubbies or slid into drawers and those drawers were slid closed, she allowed herself to smile at Prairie.
“Let’s start searching.”
Rather than focusing on Prairie’s searching look, which while seated in concern made Siobhan feel like either a patient or a victim and she wasn’t ready to feel either of those, Siobhan braced her hands on the edge of the bench and pushed up to her feet. “Where should we start?”
Prairie looked around, confusion clear. “I don’t know.”
Siobhan focused further into the garden, raising her hand to shield her eyes as her attention caught on something sparkling a bit away. “I think I see a stream or a brook. How about we start there? Then we can use it as a landmark for when we start to go further in. If we don’t find the piece right away.”
Prairie rose and turned her face in the direction Siobhan pointed. “That sounds good.”
The garden was a wild tangle. It could have passed for wild if so many of the plants weren’t the type that just didn’t flourish that way. While people saw ‘plant’ and thought ‘grows wild’, there were some that flourished better when grown indoors and there were others that were annual and did not always seed themselves well. Helichrysum italicum, commonly called curry plant, was one such as it was not cold hardy. And it was growing in abundance, flourishing to the point of having delicate yellow flowers in profusion on the top of stalks bristling with spiky whitish silver leaves.
There was no rhyme or reason to how the plants grew, again hinting that it grew uncultivated. Plants that needed full sun grew twined with those that liked shade. Even some flowers that bloomed only at night, including a lovely evening primrose, were full flower under the sun filtering through the glass panes of the arching green house roof.
Purple flowering borage thrust two to three foot stalks from frilled leaves of Red Perilla bushes, just a mishmash that made little sense, more so because winter savory poked out from the bushes, its stalks weaving through the perilla. And that was just what Siobhan saw in the first five or ten steps towards the winding ribbon of water. Such incongruous pairings continued as they moved forward, their steps careful to not do horrible harm to the plants though it was hard considering they were basically a carpet over the entirety of the ground. It was all Siobhan could do to not continuously stop to right the plants they were displacing.
Her heart lightened when her eyes picked out the dotted path of stepping stones, partially overgrown by the plants. She pointed them out to Prairie who immediately moved to walk on them rather than on the plants.
A stand of as astragalus membranaceus, also known as huang qi and prized for its medicinal qualities not the least of which was its adaptogenic properties, grew tall on the opposite side of the stone path, probably close to its maximum height of six feet. The plants swayed towards Siobhan as she stepped onto the path and then several of its stems flowed forward and curved around her leg, going around her thigh and her calf. She stopped and looked down at the plant, whispering, “What are you doing?”
The astagalus withdrew slowly, leaving behind it aromatic scent to weave around Siobhan. Her senses reached for the scent and it took some serious focus to lock down the longing that played through her. For a moment she had trouble determining if the longing came from the plants, her Magick, or her own mind.
What an odd thought. Longing of the plants. Something in the lush, overgrown tangle of plants had her anthropomorphizing, imagining the plants were lonely here in this hidden place. She focused her eyes on the stones of the path and her mind on her mission.
She pitched her voice to carry to Prairie. “I’m not sure how we’re supposed to find anything in this tangle.”
Prairie, head down, focus on the stones, said in a distracted tone, “Maybe we aren’t supposed to.”
“Well, that’s going to be a problem as we do have to.”
“Maybe it isn’t a matter of searching to find it.” As was so often the case, Prairie’s tranquil calm made the words sound more a philosophical statement than a practical one.
“Is that like when you stop searching for an answer then you will find it?”
Prairie shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just-” she waved her hand to the right of the path then to the left, encompassing the breadth of the garden in the sweeps. “How are we supposed to search this by normal means and find something as small as a piece of a stained-glass lamp shade?”
Siobhan looked around, thinking as she took in the tumble and tangle of the plants that there was some basis for Prairie’s suggestion. “So, what do you think we’re supposed to do to find it?”
“I don’t know. You’re the alchemist. If you were going to make a piece of glass disappear in this place what would you do?”
“Bury it?”
“And how would you remind yourself of where to find it?”
“That’s an interesting point. You’re saying if there’s some expectation of us finding something in here The House will leave a clue as to how to do so?”
“I don’t know if I was saying The House would. But now that you say it, that makes sense. The House does seem to be helping us.”
They were making good time towards the water feature, now that they’d found and were following the path.
“What do you think about that?”
“About what?”
“That The House has some kind of consciousness. Or purpose?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose that makes sense. But then we have to question does it have consciousness as we do or is it something else?”
“What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t really but as I said it the thought occurred to me that maybe its like the spirits that help me.”
“That’s an interesting thought. Do you mean we’re inside a spirit? How would that work?”
“Well, I’m not sure about that. I can say we’re not inside Spiritus. That’s certain. And I don’t know that we’re being possessed, although that did occur to me when we first found that guy, Mal, because at the time I wasn’t sure if we were actually inside The House or just our consciousness were. Oh, look.”
At that she pushed aside a growth of thalia dealbata, clusters of lavender and violet flowers swaying at the ends of long stalks thrusting out of a profusion of large paddle-shaped blue-green leaves. The plants were also known as hardy water canna and they proved true to that name, hardy that was, as Prairie and Siobhan’s passing through their growth seemed to do no harm at all. It was almost like the plants moved slightly in their swampy beds to allow the two passage. Unfortunately the water they grew out of did not so both Siobhan and Prairie’s feet were soaked quickly as they moved through the thicket before stepping onto a mossy bank scattered with large, loose rocks.
Prairie stepped back to the verge where water met moss and cupped a cluster of flowers in her hand. “These are very pretty.”
“They are. They are also covered in a fine powder.”
“Oh!” Prairie pulled her hand back, turning her palm to show Siobhan its powdery coating. “Oops.”
“They also attract butterflies.”
A fact that proved true as a small cloud of golden skipper butterflies floated from somewhere and alighted on the plants, drawing a delighted gasp from Prairie. “So pretty.”
“It is.” For a moment Siobhan just let herself be seduced by the garden. Then she remembered her determination to not let herself be seduced by the garden and she breathed a laugh. So much for her self-control. “You were saying?”
Prairie looked up from the plant. “What?”
So, Siobhan wasn’t the only one affected by the garden. Interesting.
“About possession?”
Prairie’s eyes widened. “Oh. I forgot I was saying anything.”
Siobhan waited, content to let Prairie find her thoughts on her own.
“I’m not sure why I thought possession, because the experience wasn’t really like that. But I don’t have the correct vocabulary, I guess, so I put the word I know on it. It was just a sense that our spirits were affected by The House. Almost like it took our spirits somewhere. Separated us from our bodies. Or slid our consciousnesses sideways somehow into a different plane. But not the plane of Spirit.” She lifted her shoulders on a small shrug. “Possession was the closest I could get to it but it really isn’t right. Maybe its more like a psychic thing.” She rubbed her chin. “Even that doesn’t make sense. Not that I know a great deal about Mind Magick.”
“I don’t either. Why do you think it might be that?”
“I don’t? I’m just trying to figure it out.”
“Aren’t we all. Your idea would imply The House has a mind or something like because I’ve never heard of Magick that affects minds being performed by something without one. Or Magick of any nature.”
“Which strengthens the argument that The House has a mind or something like one if it is doing Magick.”
“Which I think,” Siobhan said, sweeping her hand to encompass the large garden that existed in a space, theoretically, the width of a garden hedge, “we can argue it is.”
She took several steps down the bank, moving away from the canna and the beautiful butterflies and crouching down to look into the water of the brook. It wasn’t very deep, maybe two feet, and the water was very clear with just enough of a current to slowly move fallen leaves along the surface without obscuring the rocks that made up the largest portion of the bottom.
Largely the stones were gray, some lighter in tone, some darker, some with bands of white cutting their surface, the curves of the lines echoing the subtle ripple of the water surface. Despite being clear the water had a slight green cast and it loaned a similar tone to the stones so the lighter of them had a gilded cast, almost a patina. Light filtering through the water added additional ripples to the stones, flowing white lines changing the colors of the stones, their natural tones bright beneath the touch. It wasn’t a bed Siobhan would welcome barefoot in but luckily she was wearing sturdy shoes and they were already wet from wending through the canna so she didn’t hesitate before bunching up her skirt and taking a step into the water.
It was warmer than she’d expected, ebbing around her bare leg with the touch of silk. Soft, fluid, light, the water flowed past her on a soft hidden current, the little bit of soil she’d disturbed with her step swirling in a glittering cloud replete with mica. She waited for the swirl to settle then reached down to delicately stir the stones, hoping to catch a glint of color. She didn’t know what color the rose would be, there were so many options, but she was certain it would stand out from the grays of the stone brook bed.
“Prairie?” The voice echoed through the garden, distorted to the point it was hard to tell whose it was.
Prairie turned to look in the direction they’d come. “Do you hear that?”
“Yes. Do you recognize it?”
Prairie seemed to listen for a moment. “I’m not sure.” She shifted like she was going to move in the direction of the voice.
Siobhan rose from her squat and turned to look too. “Careful. It could be a trick.”
“It could.” Prairie did that gentle smile thing that said everything was going to be all right. “But we won’t know if we don’t check it out. Better we move towards it than, if it is a threat, it moves towards us.”
Siobhan couldn’t fault that logic. “Hold on a mikro. I’ll go with you.”
So saying she stepped out of the water and over to the cannas. She and Prairie pushed through them carefully, their movement once more facilitated by the plants seemingly moving out of their way. Once back on the field stone path, they stopped to assess their next move.
“Prairie?” The voice came again, from the direction they’d entered in. And it sounded vaguely familiar.
Siobhan frowned. “Does that sound like Kim?”
“If she was yelling into a wind, maybe?”
Siobhan gathered up her skirts and started striding down the path in the direction of the entry. It curved slightly to the right, which is probably why they missed the stones when first entering, and the closer they moved to the entrance, the window hanging seemingly Magickally suspended in the air – which, hey, it could have been, the more the ground covering plants encroached on the stones, partially obscuring them. The scent of mint and creeping rosemary rose up from the ground, the plants crushing beneath Siobhan’s and Prairie’s feet perfuming the air as they walked. When they were within a few dozen feet of the window the call came again, “Prairie?”
This time it was obviously Kim’s voice.
“Yes?”
Kim didn’t respond to Prairie’s call. Maybe she couldn’t hear them from outside the garden. Prairie walked up to the window with Siobhan right behind. Standing framed on the other side of the window, Kim braced one hand on the window sill and the other on the open window itself and peered through the opening. At Siobhan and Prairie’s approach she stuck her head past the window sill and yelled, “hey!”
Her hair surged forward, whipping in a tangled curtain that shifted to alternately show and hide her face. She spit loudly, sending the hair from her mouth, then flipped her head so it surged off to the right and away from Prairie and Siobhan. “Can’t talk. Air. Need Prairie.”
It was clear she was fighting something Prairie and Siobhan couldn’t see to remain in the opening. Her arms bunched and she visibly jerked back, sending a narrowed-eyed glare into nothing.
“Okay. Wh-” Siobhan didn’t get the whole question out before Kim gave a massive pull and popped backwards out the window.
Siobhan gave Prairie a quizzical look which Prairie returned with a shrug. Before they could question it more Kim shoved her head back through the opening. “Dan needs Prairie’s help in the book window.” She visibly fought the wind Siobhan and Prairie couldn’t see to turn and look at Siobhan. “Can you handle this alone?”
Before Siobhan could contemplate, let alone answer, Kim wrestled herself back into the center of the maze, leaving the entrance open for Prairie to climb through if she wanted.
Prairie looked at Siobhan. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
Siobhan turned to look at the garden then swiveled slightly in the direction of the brook. “I don’t see why not.”
“Siobhan.” Siobhan turned at Prairie’s insistent tone and Prairie pinned her with a steady stare. “You shouldn’t be alone.”
Siobhan looked deep into Prairie’s eyes and lied. “I’ll be fine.”
It was clear by Prairie’s expression that she questioned this. A lot. So, Siobhan kept her gaze steady and forced every ounce of confidence she didn’t feel into it. Eventually, faced with Siobhan’s unflinching regard Prairie broke her stare.
“Okay. Then, I’m going to go help Dan.” A small frown creased her smooth brow. “I wonder why he needs me specifically.”
“You bring a lot to the table.”
“I do?”
“Yes. You do.”
Prairie’s mouth set on a mulish line. “Ivan doesn’t think so.”
Were they back to that? Okay.
“Ivan isn’t the boss of you.”
Prairie straightened and tossed her head, sending her light brown hair falling around her shoulders. “That’s right. He isn’t. I’m the boss of me.” She pushed her forefinger into her chest. “And I am going to help Dan. Because he wants me to.”
The ‘so there’ wasn’t spoken but clearly implied. With that Prairie waved at Kim to move away from the window, then stepped up on the sill, and left Siobhan behind to the garden.
She reached up to straighten her flower crown, frowning slightly as her fingers sprang off it. Reaching up, she pulled it off and lowered it in front of her face. It was lusher than it had been when she put it on her head this morning. And there were… there were herbs in it. Sweet bergamot. Summer savory. Mitsuba. Agastache rugosa. All rare herbs that were not easily cultivated. Their sweet scents twined through the air and wound around Siobhan’s senses. Her eyes lost focus as she drew them deeply into her nose. Then she shook herself and glared at the wreath.
Okay, she thought, considering the wreath and the idea maybe she shouldn’t put it back on. But, she’d feel naked without it and, anyways, she was stronger than some herbs. That thought strong in her mind, she jammed the wreath back on her head and started back down the path to the brook.
The sooner she found the piece of the lamp the sooner she could leave this garden behind. She never thought she’d be saying that about any garden but this one? She cast a quick look around at the lush lure of the plants then resolutely focused her eyes on the stone path and her mind on the mission. Yeah, she was stronger than a garden, no matter how appealing.
*
The thought of not going back into the library was very appealing to Dan. Arguments against it pounded in time with his footfalls as he and Abe ran around the last corner before reaching the center of the maze. They’d lost Gryphon several turns back, Abe doing something with their ink to make the beast head down one of the turns marked with a gold flower, so when they hit the smooth tile floor in the center of the maze they were able to right themselves and catch their breaths instead of charging back into the maze with Gryphon hot on their trail.
Kim, Prairie, and Patti looked up from where they were quietly talking near the table in the center of the space. “Oh good. You’re back. I got Prairie for you.”
And there went Dan’s tentative plans to not go into the library. He’d asked for Abe. He’d gotten Abe. He’d asked for Prairie and there she was. There was no reason not to go into the library, separate from the residual terror rearing its head inside of Dan.
Still, he ventured, “What about Gryphon.”
Kim looked at Patti. Patti looked at Kim and nodded.
“Patti and I have it.”
Patti laced her fingers, then straightened her arms, popping her hands forward and rolling her shoulders before shooting Kim a look. “You sure about this?”
“No.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.” With that Patti hopped off the table and walked over to stand next to the entrance Dan and Abe cleared. Kim joined her and looked from Dan to the window with the book. Dan followed her gaze and felt his fate locking down. Great.
He looked at Abe leaning against the hedge with their shoulders curved in and their head down. Then he looked at Prairie who gave him an encouraging smile. “I’m glad you asked for me.”
Well, if that didn’t just seal the deal. He was going to look into that earnest face, hear that gentle voice, and see the excitement in Prairie’s eyes and not go into that library? Stronger men than he would have caved completely.
“Let’s go.” If his voice was a bit gruff it would probably pass for his usual stoic manner. He checked his crossbows, patted his vest pockets, confirmed the locations of his notebooks, then gestured towards the book window, indicating Prairie should go in front of him. She pulled out her daggers, looking to him like she needed confirmation of the need for them. He nodded. “You’ll need them.”
Abe pushed away from the hedge, straightened their bag strap and their shoulders, and turned up a face that was too innocent and too open. Between Abe and Prairie it was like taking puppies, too young to know the world was full of dangers, for a walk. Dan had to remind himself they were grown adults, capable of making choices and they’d made theirs. It wasn’t his job to change their minds. Just to protect them.
Oy. What had he gotten himself into? They didn’t know what lurked in the library. Shit, Dan didn’t know what lurked there, just that something did. And he had to get them to understand that before they walked through that window.
Time wasn’t on his side though because at that moment he heard the sound of Gryphon coming through the hedge. He looked to Patti and Kim who nodded and gave him resolute looks then stepped out far enough from the path they’d have a lead but close enough they could draw Gryphon’s eye. Especially if Dan, Prairie, and Abe got through that window, leaving Patti and Kim the only ones Gryphon could focus on.
He looked at Prairie and Abe. “No time to explain. Once we get through the window stop. Wait for me. I’ll fill you in when we get in.”
Prairie smiled, big and bright, then hauled herself up to the window sill of the book window and stepped into the library. Abe quickly followed, pausing for a mikro to look back at Dan while hovering on the windowsill, looking for a moment very much like Peter Pan calling Wendy to fun, then they stepped off the sill and into the room. The sound of Gryphon approaching marching orders in Dan’s blood he walked over to the window, climbed up on the sill, then stepped into the room beyond.
Prairie and Abe stood slightly to the side of the window, their upturned faces pictures of anticipation and curiosity. They made Dan tired. Seriously tired. Okay. He had this. Taking a deep breath, he checked his crossbows again, tapped his vest pockets determining where his bolts and books were again, then when he was ready to do so met their gazes without flinching.
“When I was here earlier a book fell off a shelf.” His voice didn’t normally carry, so he didn’t have to do much to keep it contained to just he, Prairie, and Abe. “By the time I reached it something was coming out of it. I have reason to believe it was a Nazgul as the book was Tolkien’s Return of the King.”
At Prairie’s clouded look, he added. “A Ringwraith.”
Prairie’s eyes managed to grow considerably larger, like the spirit of an anime artist had taken her features and remolded them. “Oh. Is that why you need me? A wraith?”
“No. I need you because you are a good fighter. The daggers Ivan gave you will help too.”
Prairie’s mouth fell open slightly. Had no one ever complimented her on her fighting?
Prairie reached down and released the daggers from their sheaths, holding them at the ready as she shifted her gaze to take in the dark library. It was mostly a wasted effort as the only light they had was the alchemy torch on Dan’s vest, but he still appreciated the impulse.
“While I was dealing with the Nazgul I heard another thump, from above.” He unsnapped the torch from his vest and held it up, sweeping it out at the length of his arm to illuminate the space. It wasn’t a strong light, more meant for lighting close to a person, so it didn’t do much to pierce the darkness but it did manage to lift the dark enough that the basic structure of the upper levels of the library became clear.
Dan found himself falling back into his military training, briefing Abe and Prairie on the situation. “The center of the room is clear except for several card catalog cabinets in two rows. Beyond that are bookshelves set up in concentric squares, two deep. There are three floors. Approximately a third of the way along the center a stair starts. It winds around leading to the second and third floors. It was the second floor, to the right, where I heard the noise. Upon investigating I saw one figure clearly, but there was indications of several more.”
Abe raised a hand. The corner of Dan’s lip quirked at the gesture, but he found himself indulging Abe’s hesitance with a quick nod at which Abe asked in a quiet voice, “A figure?”
Aware that the things could be lurking in the dark just beyond the green glow of the torch, Dan explained in as few words as possible. “Large eyes. Pale skin. Narrow face. Elongated fingers. Possibly claws but it was too far to confirm. It moved more like crawling than walking.”
“You think it came from a book?” Prairie’s eyes scanned the dark for movement.
“Unconfirmed. But the Nazgul did so until I have confirmation otherwise I assume this creature or creatures did as well.”
Again Abe raised their hand. Dan turned his head to look at them and they asked, “What do you think they are?”
“Uncertain.”
Abe followed this with another question. “What do you think we have to do about them?”
“I think we need to find their book and get them back in it.”
“How?”
If that wasn’t the question of the day. “Uncertain.”
“Our first step,” Prairie said slowly, “is to find the book. Then we can determine what the creature we are dealing with is. Maybe they aren’t aggressive.”
“We can hope,” Dan offered, though his gut said that was false hope. False hope. He looked down at his hand where Hope marched across his knuckles. Was it telling him something? “I don’t think we’ll be that lucky.”
“Okay.” Abe bobbed their head. “What do you think might happen?”
Dan stared down at Hope, watching the lines of it dance in the phosphorescence of the alchemy torch. In the uneven light the word appeared to writhe, until Dan swore he could feel the shift under his skin. “I think I’m going to Hope it comes to me when we find the book.”
The look Prairie shot him suggested a distinct lack of faith in that, but her shrug said she’d go along with it. What other option did they have? They needed to search this place and find the piece of the lamp that was here and that meant dealing with whatever lurked in the dark. Also, trying to figure out how to find a small piece of glass in a large library. But first the challenge they knew – which was the lurkers.
Prairie tracked her gaze to the left. “You said the stairs were to the left?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go. I’ll go first. I’m fast and I have melee weapons.”
Dan nodded at this sound logic. “You take point.”
For a moment something kindled in Prairie’s eyes. Dan might almost think it was hope. The surging of the Word on his skin towards her, like it was responding that, suggested it was exactly that.
“Here.” He held the torch out to her. She looked at it then gestured with both dagger laden hands.
“No hands. You keep it.”
“Okay.” Dan reclipped the light to his vest. “You have the lead.”
Prairie squared her shoulders then strode forward into the dark. The torch behind her cast an elongated shadow in front of her, stretching slightly to the left like an arrow pointing their way. Abe fell in beside Dan as they moved to keep pace with Prairie. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she looked back at them. Once she’d confirmed their placement, she jerked her chin to the stairs, indicating she was going to scale them. Dan and then Abe nodded in understanding. While they hadn’t discussed it, they all seemed to understand silence was key.
Prairie made almost no sound as she climbed the wide stairs. Combined with her small frame, the way she controlled each step made Dan think of several scouts he’d worked with who people jokingly said were “quieter than ninjas”. Dan did his best to emulate her movements, placing each foot carefully as he knew his larger frame was not designed to move with the stealth Prairie exhibited. The stairs curved, climbing like a nautilus shell, so by the time they reached the top they were situated directly across from the window they’d entered.
The stairs gave out into a terrace or a catwalk not much wider than the stairs themselves. The stairs flowed naturally into this terrace. The remainder of it curved back from the stair at a sharp angle. The wall to the left was lined with bookshelves, the shelves laden with books. The shelves were white, the books dark against them in the torch’s green glow. Shadows flickered, drawing Dan’s eye to behind them. Was that?
He reached forward and tapped Prairie’s shoulder. When she turned to look, he raised two fingers, tapped his ear, then gestured over his shoulder. He didn’t make any move to turn, suspecting that would give warning of their notice to whatever it was he heard behind them. Prairie nodded, turned so she was facing the other direction, and quietly sidled to her right and the wall of books. She pressed her forefinger to her lips, indicating silence, then carefully walked forward along the wall so she was in front of Dan and Abe. Then she started walking slowly forward, daggers held slightly out at her sides.
She lunged forward and slightly to the left, sweeping her daggers forward in a scything motion. A high pitched squeal split the dark and then there was the sound of something falling back with a hiss. Abe jerked a look at Dan, eyes wide, and tightened their hand on their bag strap. Dan tapped the crossbow hanging against his leg on that side.
‘Do you have a weapon?’ he mouthed.
Abe shook their head ‘no’. Dan nodded ‘okay’. Then he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, hoping Abe got the point he was asking about their Magick. Abe nodded, then looked intently forward past Prairie and slightly to the left.
A slight scuff of a foot on the stone floor to the left where Abe was fixed was the only warning they had that something was coming in from that side. Abe lifted their left hand and made a sweeping gesture. It was too dark to see what Abe did exactly but Dan saw a dark shape dart from Abe to whip in the direction they stared. Prairie must have felt whatever it was Abe released because she leaped in that direction, like a kitten pouncing on a bug, and brought her right dagger forward in an arc. Another high pitched squeal and then the distinctive thud of something hitting the floor. As one Dan, Prairie, and Abe flowed forward toward the sound.
The sound of thrashing suggested a location for whatever had attacked. Instinctively Dan lifted his foot and brought it pounding down. His aim was true and his foot landed on something that gave rather than on the jarring hardness of stone. He leaned forward, aiming the light of the torch hanging off his vest towards his foot. His boot pressed against an ape-like chest, pale, likely white though it appeared pale green in the torch’s light. Long arms flopped to either side of the barrel torso, long fingered hands slack. The head was turned to the side, the face obscured by a fall of long pale hair.
Dan looked to Prairie. Nodded. Lifting his foot he stooped to look at the fallen creature. Or that was his intent. When the creature suddenly whipped his head around, hair falling back to reveal long drawn out features and an abundance of sharp teeth revealed by the snarl of human-like mouth he almost fell back on his ass. It was only Abe bracing their hand to his shoulder that kept him from landing on the stone floor. The creature raised its arms, sweeping them in towards Dan in a single action. Abe lunged to the right and swung their blackened right hand over Dan’s shoulder, catching the creature in a wash of black ink that flowed from their hand out to the creature. The creature writhed their shoulders, trying to break the cocoon of Abe’s ink but failed to breach its strength.
“What is this thing?” Abe whispered to Dan.
Dan shook his head. “Uncertain.”
“Do we kill it?” Prairie asked, moving quickly to Dan’s left, opposite where Abe leaned.
Dan eyed the struggling creature. It turned its gaze on him. The green of the alchemy torch reflected back from the creatures huge eyes, like when light hit a cat’s eyes in the dark. There was nothing intelligent in that gaze, nothing to reason with. Either it was too scared or too set on damaging them, and as it made a feeble attempt to lunge against Abe’s control and take a bite out of Dan’s thigh with its many teeth, Dan was going to go with it being intent on damage. Jerking his leg back, he looked at Prairie. “Kill it.”
Prairie gulped and then brought her left dagger across its neck. A jet of blood, the color uncertain in the uneven torch light sprayed in an arc, catching all three of them in the rain of gore.
Abe audibly gulped next to Dan. Once the creature slumped back to the floor, neck gaping a second mouth, they pulled back their ink, leaving the creature a pale blotch on the stone floor.
Dan ran an eye over it, carefully avoiding looking at the throat wound. His eyes wanted to shy away from the features, innocent looking now in their slack state, but he had to assess. Had to try to determine what this thing was.
“Any ideas?” Prairie asked, as if she’d heard his thoughts.
“On its appearance or what it might be?”
“What it might be. I can tell you it is very pale, suggesting an adjustment of melanin due to lack of light. The large eyes, which may have evolved to capture whatever light was available, suggest similar. Like fish that live in very deep water that develop eye sight that lets them see bioluminescence. I can tell you the physical characteristics and guess what might cause them, but I don’t know enough stories to guess at what creature it is.”
Dan frowned and leaned forward to peer at the hand to get a better look at the fingers. And they swept up, going around his throat. His gasped and then fell back, trying to break the hold. This threw his gaze into direct alignment with the wide, large eyes fixed directly on his. Abe fell in from the right, digging their fingers under the creature’s to try and break its hold. The Prairie dropped to a knee next to it and went to town, stabbing her dagger into his abdomen again and again. The creature shied from the stabs and dug its fingers in deeper, crushing Abe’s fingers against Dan’s neck and buying him a scant inch to pull in a breath as his vision started going wonky. Prairie adjusted her position, her shoulder digging into Dan’s side and stabbed some more. The Magick daggers must have found every organ in the creature’s body because several mikros later its grip loosened, its arms dropped to the ground and its body followed.
Prairie fell back on her knees and stared at the daggers. “The organs weren’t were I expected.”
“Guess the Magick in the daggers doesn’t need to understand anatomy,” Dan croaked, rubbing at his throat. Even as he did so he rose to unsteady feet and took several steps back from the creature. As he watched it started to twitch again and the many stab wounds on its torso began to close before his astonished eyes. “Get back!” he forced through tortured esophagus tissues.
Abe, eyes wide, did just that. Prairie took a mikro longer, her gaze fixed on the rapidly sealing wounds. “How?”
“Magick,” Dan croaked. He swallowed hard, getting some saliva down, then spoke with a little more force though no less rasp. “Not sure it can die. Need to find the book.”
Prairie’s nod as she rose to her feet seemed to agree with that assessment. “You said to the right?”
Dan nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
Prairie’s steps were faster, less controlled, as she moved along the terrace towards the right and where Dan was pretty sure he’d heard the book fall above him.
“Do you think there’s only one?” Abe whispered as they cast a quick look behind them.
“Unknown,” Dan croaked.
“So be prepared?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Abe whispered, splitting their attention to looking behind them and in front where Prairie lead. “Maybe we should have brought the others.”
“Hindsight,” Dan rasped.
Prairie followed terrace around to the right. There was something, there, propped against the bottom of the shelf a short distance forward. Dan stepped up fast, sweeping the light in that direction to illuminate it. As he suspected it was a book, its spine on the ground, its back against the shelf and its pages falling open towards the floor.
Whispering a hoarse apology, he pushed forward past Prairie, running to pick up the book while keeping his eyes peeled towards the darkness at the far end where the terrace curved and started the stair up to the next level. He stooped and grabbed the book, turning its spine up so he could read it in the torch’s light. As he did so he heard a sound to the right towards the stair. On his knees, he shifted his chest to turn the light in that direction. In time to see long fingers curling over the edge of the stair from underneath it where the curving terrace met the underside of the stair.
He swallowed, got some more saliva down his throat, enough to grunt fairly loudly. “Incoming.”
Prairie moved in the direction of the stair, daggers out. Abe stepped in behind her, a few steps back, then turned and swept their left hand at the book. “Read it!” they hollered, then turned back to the creature separating itself from the stair and loping down the hall towards Abe and Prairie.
Aware of needing to keep the light pointed in their direction to offer what little illumination he could, Dan tipped the spine towards his chest and shifted to look down at it. The Time Machine. H.G. Wells. His Magick swelled inside him and details form the vast catalog of book information it retained flipped through his mind, so fast he almost got dizzy following it. Focusing his mind down to a narrow beam, he looked towards where Prairie and Abe were engaging what he now knew was a Morlock, one of the ape-like figures Wells had peopled the subterranean world of the Time Machine. As he watched the creature fell at Prairie’s feet. Both she and Abe back-pedaled from it. They’d learned their lesson already. The thing wasn’t going to be down for long. You couldn’t kill an idea. It could be quashed. It could be forgotten, lost in the annals of obscurity. But as long as Bibliomancers could tap the Magick database that made their power possible, they could never disappear and, by that extension, die.
Dan looked down at the book, cursing internally but keeping his external calm. No need to let Prairie and Abe know how completely fucked they were. He stared at the book, like it could give him some clue what to do.
Think, Dan, think. Where they just supposed to elude the creature released from the book, while searching for the lamp piece and hoping no other book opened itself and disgorged its antagonists? Or was there some way to…
“Abe?” he yelled, best he could through his choke-hampered throat.
Abe looked back at him. “What?”
“Hope picked you to come with me.” As he said it he knew it was true. Like a light bulb turning on in a darkened room. When he’d let go of thought and reason and just picked he’d picked Abe. Or Hope had. “Why?”
Abe looked confused. And Dan didn’t blame them. This shit was beyond mystical. It was bordering on faith.
“You said something about faith.”
Suddenly Prairie dashed past Dan, back along the way they had come and leaped onto a pale figure skulking from the dark there. She brought her daggers down on either side of its neck and then tore down towards its clavicle. The figure went slack under and she jumped free of it. Then she looked back at Dan. “Do we keep fighting or run?’
“Run where?” Dan asked.
Prairie shrugged with her two daggers. It was an unsettling sight. Then she called back to Abe. “Abe? Help me push this over the terrace.”
“Okay.” Abe jogged over to Prairie. They both stooped down then heaved to toss the lax figure over the rail to the floor below. It made a dull thud, loud in the silence of the library, as it impacted. Once that was done Prairie turned to Dan. “I’ll keep fighting if say to. But we need a plan.”
Dan nodded and looked at Abe. “You said that the Magick of words was a matter of faith, right?”
Abe looked at him, clearly confused.
“When you were explaining how your Magick, and maybe mine, worked.”
Abe nodded, hair flopping everywhere. “Yes.”
“Incoming,” Prairie yelled and dashed back towards the stairs leading to the third floor. Abe darted after her, pausing for a mikro to yank their cassock off and drop it near Dan then running towards her with right arm raised and fingers splayed on the air.
Faith. Dan worked the word over in his mind, staring at the Word Hope on his knuckles. Magick. Magick and faith. Did that apply here? How?
Not Faith. He forced himself to focus as Prairie hollered, the sound echoing off the walls and the vaulted ceiling until the sound resonated like a steel drum. Not Faith. But something about faith. Abe said their Magick came from… belief. People believing in something and making it real.
He frowned at the book in his hand. Shifted his attention to the Word Hope. Back to the book like he could channel the concept of Hope, which Abe seemed to believe had picked him as its champion or protector, into the book and by that extension into the solution to this mess.
In that moment he truly did Hope. That the answer would come to him. By Magick. Or Belief. Or whatever other agent could affect it. He stared at Hope, drove his hope into it, and it seemed to swell. No. Didn’t seem. Did. Swelled like a blister, pulsating and hot. And then it burst. Not really. His skin didn’t split. Nothing physical escaped and yet he felt an energy emit from the skin of his knuckles, from the Word Hope, and an idea formed, whole and complete, in his mind.
The Magick of Belief, all those readers who had invested their fear and wonder in the concept of the Morlocks, of the stunted creatures lurking in H.G. Wells subconscious that he’d loaned to his subterranean world, brought the creatures to life. Metaphorically in the imaginations of the readers. But in this strange reality he and the others found themselves in, that belief also brought the creatures to true life. The words in this book, describing the Morlocks, became Words. Stepped out of the book they became Morlocks.
“Abe,” Dan yelled, his voice rough with wonder, not just from choking. “Is the creature made of Words?”
There was the sound of struggle, of combat, and then the thunk of a body hitting the ground. Dan strained to see up the stairs where the fight had carried, the light of the torch inadequate to provide the illumination he needed to see that far. His heart caught somewhere near his sore throat as neither Prairie nor Abe responded to his call.
He gathered himself and rose, book clenched in one fist, and ran in that direction. His feet hit the bottom stair before he heard the thump of a body going over the rail. And then Abe’s voice, light and high, called down the stair. “Did you ask something?”
Dan let out a sharp breath and clutched the book to his chest. “Are the creatures made of Words?”
“Everything is made of Words, Dan.” Abe’s tone, exhausted though it was, held a note of amusement. “I’ve tried to explain that.”
“And I think it finally sunk in. What Words?”
“What Words?”
“What Words is the creature made of?”
A look of dawning understanding transformed Abe’s face. They poked their tongue into their cheek and looked over the railing. “It’s too far away to see.”
“Don’t worry,” Prairie said, wiping her blades on the leg of her scrubs as she descended the stairs. “It will be back.”
Abe looked at Dan. “Do you want me to tell you what Words its made of?”
“Yes.”
“Behind you!” Prairie called, pointing at the rail of the terrace beside Dan where long-fingers wrapped themselves. Prairie slid in front of Dan, hip checking him and getting a grunt for it. She hit pretty hard for a small woman. Dan couldn’t help but drop back and let her do her thing, which apparently was, in this instance, to grab the arm attached to the hand wrapping around the rail and tugging. She threw a look over her shoulder at Abe. “Abe? Help?”
“Oh. Sure.” Abe dove in, wrapped their left hand around the arm and heaved with Prairie. As they did so they held their inked right hand up, fingers subtly curved, directed it at the Morlock and then curled their fingers in like they were balling something up in their palm. Then they dragged their arm back, a magician pulling back a curtain, and stared at the space between the Morlock and their hand. “My impression of it is, of course, imperfect,” they said, staring hard at the air or the Words they apparently could see there.
Dan squinted, trying to force himself to see. And then something shifted inside of him, his Magick. He stopped straining and relaxed his eyes, kind of like how you were told to look at one of those 3D pictures so you could see the dolphins hidden in the pattern there. And then he was seeing it too.
Words, stretched on the air, pulled tight between Abe’s clenched hand and the Morlock. As he watched the words grew more taut and started reeling back towards the Morlock. Abe fought it, like a fish on the line, but it was a losing battle. The ‘line’ snapped and the words reeled back into the creature. For the entire time Abe did this the creature laid slack in Prairie and Abe’s hold.
As soon as the Words snapped back into it though it came to instant life, thrashing and pulling against Abe and Prairie’s grip. They looked at each other, came to some silent agreement, and both released their grips as one. The Morlock cascaded back from the rail, falling to the floor below with a thump.
Dan’s Magick pulsed in his mind. A number drifted out of the depths of it, clear for a mikro and then gone. But it was long enough. Dan scrabbled at the book, flipping pages until he found the one that matched the number in his head.
Prairie cried out as the Morlock clawed its way up over the rail again. It locked Dan in a stare with it eery, large, shining eyes and in them he read blood and hunger and the rip of teeth. In that moment Dan knew that the Morlock saw him as Eloi and it had the taste of him on its tongue. Either he conquered it or it would conquer him. It was deathless but it was not invulnerable. He pressed a finger to the beginning of the words that described the Morlock in the book. All he had to do was make them Words. Or, rather make the Words meld with the words.
“Abe! Do it again!”
Abe didn’t hesitate. They reached forward with their right hand and ripped at the substance of the Morlock, yanking it out in a long, beautiful, liquid black strand.
“My impression of it is, of course, imperfect; but I know it was a dull white, and had strange large greyish-red eyes; also that there was a flaxen hair on its head and down its back.” Dan focused his Magick into his voice, calling the Words making the Morlock back to the pages. They came, smooth as the liquid they appeared, flowing out of the knot of Abe’s fingers, across the space between Abe and Dan, and then into the book. The Morlock’s form frayed, unraveled, turning to something like charred wood or paper, becoming ash that drifted away on the air as the Words flowed from it. The dark of them did not mar the page. Instead it seemed to seep into it, disappearing as Dan continued to read, “But, as I say, it went to fast for me to see distinctly. I cannot even say whether it ran on all fours, or only with its forearms held very low.”
His voice trailed off, his Magick pulling back into his reservoir, and the very last of the ash that was the Morlock sifted down to the marble floor below.
Prairie stood, mouth agape, her gaze shifting fast between the afterburn of the Morlock on the air, Abe, Dan, and the book. “Wow.”
Abe echoed this, their mouth curved on an ‘oh’. They brought up their hands and shoved their mop of hair back from their face. And they stared at Dan with wide eyes that glowed with something close to worship.
“That! Was! Awesome!”
Dan found himself laughing. Then found himself slowly sliding down the bookshelf behind him, landing with a thump on his ass on the stone floor. Blowing out a deep breath, he closed his eyes and clasped the book to his chest. Then very slowly he turned and replaced it in the empty spot on the bookshelf.
“Let’s look for that lamp piece,” he said turning back to look at Prairie and Abe.
“What if we find something else that came out of a book?” Abe asked.
A broad smile curved Dan’s lips, almost as big as the swell of his Magick within him but not nearly as large as the pulse from Hope on his hand. “Then we handle it.”
Enter The Woods 