The Magician: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel: Book One of the Rogue Portal Series (26 page)

TWENTY-SIX

⌛

Connor sat at the desk, trying to focus on the stack of books in front of him. He couldn't remember anything he'd read in the last hour. It had been relatively quiet since Stuart left, and Hazel had, for all intents and purposes, lost herself in the
Alchemist's Almanac
. Secretly Connor thought she'd used it as more of a coping mechanism than a study motivated by an actual fascination with the material, but he couldn't blame her.

              He flipped another page, staring at the text, watching it blend and twist into words and sentences, not comprehending any of it. His books didn't seem to have anything to do with what they'd been experiencing. They contained information devoted to the study of witchcraft, as practiced in modern society, and while Kit would have found some deep connection between what had been happening and the material in his books, he couldn't see it for the life of him.

              Part of him wanted to go look at the
Almanac
with Hazel, but she'd had little time with it. Best to give her an opportunity to dig into it. Given his current state, she'd probably be more apt to find something useful than he would anyhow. Concentration had into an attempt at concentration about three hours prior, and that had since given way to a complete abandonment of the Good Ship Give-a-Crap.

              Overwhelmed didn't begin to describe the complete emptiness he felt. It threatened to overtake him. Knocked on the door of his sanity and promised to steal its occupants. He looked at Hazel, who had taken a great interest in a particular page.

              "Find something interesting?" he asked, hoping against hope that she had.

              "Actually, yes. Take a listen to this." She began reading aloud from the book, which she'd propped in her lap as she sat cross-legged on the floor.
Criss-cross applesauce.
The line came back to him from a long buried memory.
Third grade,
he thought,
Miss. Hinkley.
He refocused his attention on Hazel.

              "The Royal Stone is a sapphire blue stone of medium size and multiple facets used for transportation and protection. It protects all those under the oversight of members of the Royal League, family members thereof, or are in fact members of the Royal League itself. The stone has a multitude of powers, but only members of the Royal League possess the information to use it. The Manchki are the Guardians of the Royal Stone. While they serve other purposes, their chief mission is to guard the stone, ensure its proper placement and possession, return it to a member of the Royal League should it become misplaced, and use it for the express purpose of protecting members of the Royal League in times of great distress or danger."

              By instinct, Connor touched his pocket, convinced that the small creature who had handed him the stone had been one of these Manchkis, and that the stone it had handed him was in fact the Royal Stone. But it didn't make any sense.
Or maybe it makes perfect sense.
How many times had he been called the Prince of Balance? Even in this realm he knew the title of prince meant royalty. Why should it be any different in the Void? The stone moved in his pocket, and the motion against his thigh made him jump.

              Hazel stared at him with great concern and contemplation in her eyes. He must have looked like a person in shock, sitting there not saying a word.

              "Sorry...that's ehm. That's really fascinating," he said.

              "Do you have any idea what this could have to do with?" she asked.

              "No, not at all," he lied. "I wish I did."

             
It's not so much a lie,
he thought. He knew about the stone, sure, but past that he knew nothing. Only had a slight conjecture that perhaps things stood to get a lot weirder. How could he be a prince, let alone Prince of a realm of which he'd only just recently learned the existence.

              "Nothing makes any sense, does it?" She asked, more to the carpeting than to him.

              "Not at all," he responded to the same patch of carpeting she'd fixed her gaze on.

              He turned around and faced his stack of books again. Kit had said that they needed to look through these particular books, so there must be something in there of value. But he just couldn't find it. And now he worried about something else: how to use the Royal Stone. The description had been quite clear in that only members of the Royal League knew how to use it, and given that, for argument's sake, he was a member of the Royal League, he should, if the text was accurate, know how to active it. But he didn't know anything about it other than that it had saved his life. And he doubted that he'd find the answer in a stack of books written by the good people of Earth.

              Resting his elbow on the desk he put his head in his hand and closed his eyes. Life felt like a hurricane from which he couldn't escape. He reached for a book, and the newspaper caught his eye. Something about it made him look closer.

             
WOMAN GOES MISSING; FRIENDS, PARENTS CALL FOR SEARCH PARTY.

             
He pulled the paper closer to him and looked at the picture of the missing girl. His heart fell to his stomach, causing him to feel a sudden wave of nausea, as though he'd just plummeted from a great height. The woman in the picture was the exact visage of the girl in the woods. The song returned to him, and he kept reading.

             
"Adriana Livingston, 27, disappeared Friday from the campus of Washington United University near Seattle. Friends report last seeing her before she went on a walk through the woods. When asked if they had seen anything suspicious about her behavior recently, they all reported that everything had been normal except for her complaints of having strange dreams and needing more sleep. One peer, who didn't want to be identified, related a strange incident involving a recently acquired ring. "I walked up to her and complimented her on her new ring. I went to touch it and she freaked out. Got all upset and took it off. After that I didn't see her again. That was the only weird thing I noticed, though." Her parents reported that nothing had changed in her life, and those closest to the missing woman are frantic. Her parents have called for a search party to comb the woods, and volunteers are meeting this coming Wednesday at 8am near Loon Lake."

             
Chills ran across Connor's body. The girl. The ring. The woods. It had to be her. Everything in the article matched the girl he'd seen in the woods. But it hadn't really been a girl, had it? She hadn't been there physically, but she hadn't been a ghost - that much he knew without understanding how he knew it. She'd reminded him of a hologram, like the goat lady in the elevator.

              Kit had been right. They'd fallen into something far greater than any of them understood. Greater than the four of them. Greater, perhaps, than humanity itself. Something of enormous significance, set in motion by something beyond them, unfolding before their eyes and taking them along with it. He swallowed the growing fear that their ship was about to go over the edge of a giant cosmic waterfall. Shoving his hand into his pocket, his finger hit something sharp, and he winced. The key to the library.

              And then, with sudden force and awareness, he knew exactly where Kit had gone.

              "Oh no..."

              "What's wrong?" Hazel looked up from the book again, narrowing her eyes.

              He hadn't realized he'd said the words out loud.

              "N...nothing, sorry. Just remembered there's something I forgot to do. I'll be right back. I'm going to go for a walk, okay? I'll be back soon."

              "Alright," she said.

              He pulled out his phone and texted Kit once more, but something told him she wouldn't respond.

              "Have you heard from Kit yet?" Hazel asked.

              "No. I'm texting her again right now. If you hear from her, will you give me a call?"

              "Of course. Absolutely." She paused. "I'm really getting worried about her. She should have called or comeback by now."

              "I know. But I'm sure it will be okay. She's industrious. Everything will be okay."

              He said the words, but didn't mean them, and though he thought Hazel knew that she smiled at his attempts to comfort her nonetheless.

              "Hey before you go, can you take a look at this?" She pointed to a page in the book.

              "Yeah, of course."

              He looked down to see a picture of the mirror hanging in the library. He remembered seeing the picture in there before, but he hadn't paid it much mind. At the time he'd been searching for something he thought to be far more important, and had passed it by.

              "Look at this. The description here says that only the owner can control the mirror, and that it's a portal. The owner controls who gets pulled through and where they go, and while a person may be able to look through from the other side, they can't get back unless the owner allows them to. If the mirror is broken, the portal is destroyed and the individual pulled through will be unable to return, and, though rare, may even die."

              He felt as though the Universe had confirmed his worst fears and pointed him in the right direction all at the same time. The gnawing pain in his stomach grew into a sickening dread. Of course Kit would go check out the mirror. That sounded exactly like her.

              "You don't think Kit..."

              "No. No I don't. She wouldn't go alone." He lied again.

              "Yeah. Yeah you're right. She's smarter than that."

              He found it almost amusing the way they were both trying to convince themselves that the obvious could be ignored; that the truth could be a lie.

              "You sure you're okay staying by yourself for a little while?"

              "Yeah. Yeah I'll be fine. Don't worry." She smiled.

              "Okay. I'll come right back."

              As he headed out the door he thought about his own experience with the mirror. What if the Manchki hadn't been there? What if he hadn't gotten the stone? Would he have been trapped there forever? And if the owner controlled what happened, didn't that mean Rumsfeld controlled it? And given that, why would he have sent Connor into a place where he'd come into possession of such a powerful tool?

             
Because he didn't know you'd get the stone.

             
Of course! Rumsfeld didn't know that crucial piece of information, which meant that Rumsfeld didn't know everything, and that sent a small wave of hope through him, calming him if only for a moment. Perhaps Connor didn't know much about the stone. Perhaps he didn't know how to use it. But if
he
had it, then Rumsfeld didn't, and that, at least, had to be worth something.

              With renewed focus and confidence, he rode the elevator, exited the hotel, and took off down the street. Without warning a blinding darkness took over him. He fell to his knees, the dizzying sensation of traveling between dimensions overtaking him. Crimson tinged smoke surrounded him, choked him.

              A figure emerged. Kit. She looked the same, but he didn't recognize the surroundings. They reminded him of a painting he'd seen as a child depicting the Garden of Eden. But something about it struck him as decidedly unholy. Off. Like a dark forest masquerading as a paradise. Kit walked toward something, looking panicked. She banged on what looked like air. Out of nowhere, the entire scene went red and Kit collapsed on the ground, choking. He returned to the sidewalk with blinding force, still on his knees. Shaking, he stood and ran toward the library.

TWENTY-SEVEN

⌛

Connor reached the perimeter of the school so fast he thought he must have qualified for some kind of running record. He had no time to waste, and no patience for wasted time. The only thing he could think of was getting to Kit, and making sure she was safe. Helping her in any way he could.

              He crossed the library parking lot and jogged to a stop when he saw the school janitor pushing his rolling trashcan and mop cart along. The man was walking away from him, whistling a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. What was it? Where had he heard it before?

              "Ulysses!"

              Connor shouted, but the man didn't seem to hear him.

              "Ulysses!"

              He shouted again and ran toward him, finally stopping when he was next to him. Touching his arm, he realized the man had headphones on. That wasn't typical. Ulysses never wore headphones. But it was a quiet day on campus, so maybe he thought he'd enjoy the relative calm.

              Ulysses turned around, taking his ear buds out and beaming a smile toward Connor.

              "Help ya?"

              "Yeah, I hope so. Have you seen a girl around here lately? Short, red hair, last time I saw her she was in black jeans and a plaid shirt?"

              The usually compassionate Ulysses began to laugh.

              "Something funny?"

              "Mmm? Ah, not a thin', son. But you mighta wana check out the food court, no? Great eats. So long's you don't bite off more'n you can chew, eh?"

              Confused, Connor nodded and turned away. Something was off about Ulysses. The man was normally so helpful and friendly and seemed to know everything about the school and every student within it. But this..

              He turned back to ask Ulysses another question and froze. The custodian was standing in front of his cart, but no longer holding the mop. Instead, his head was in his hands, exposing the bloody stump of neck, as though it had just been severed. The head in his hands was gaping, missing its eyes, mouth sewn shut in true Demafae fashion.

              A scream escaped his lips and he stumbled backwards, turning around to run. He smacked right into something made of cloth. Stepping back he realized it was...Ulysses.

              "You a'ight son?"

              "I...just...."

              Connor turned around to find both the first Ulysses and his cart had disappeared. Tricks of the Void. More games. More illusions. The other world was colliding with this world on a regular basis now, and he didn't think it could mean anything good.

              "Hey, you been runnin'?"

              He turned back to the real Ulysses.

              "Yeah, hah! I guess so. Hey listen, have you seen Kit around here?"

              "Kit?"

              "Yeah, short girl, long, bright red hair, black jeans and a..."

              "Plaid shirt, yeah?" he asked.

              "Yes! Yes where was she?"

              "Mmm, headed toward the restaurant 'ere. But not lookin' for food, that one. Took off toward the library. Donno why, though. Closed Sundays, 'tis."

              "Thanks Ulysses."

              "Mmmhmm. Y'on and have a good day nah."

              Connor nodded and ran up the stairs toward the library and waited until Ulysses had turned the corner before using the key to enter. The expansive lobby appeared dark and lonely in the quiet abandonment of closing hours. To Connor it felt hollow, like a cavern.
Or a grave,
said the voice in his head
.
Yes, or a grave.

              Running to the elevator bank, he found one standing open already. He'd learned in the last week or so not to be trusting of anything that appeared too easy, but what could he do? He didn't have time to run five flights of stairs, and Kit needed him. Entering the elevator, he punched the number five and waited. It seemed like an eternity before the doors finally shut.

              "Busy?"

              He nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing the voice next to him. The Fifth Floor Librarian stood next to him with her cart.

              "Oh, geez...sorry, Dolores. I didn't see you there when I got in."

              She calmly fixed her gaze back on the elevator doors, not responding to him. It wasn't like her. Something felt wrong. Very wrong. She had the cart of books he'd seen her with last time, by the mirror. And...wasn't she wearing the same clothing? No, this was not the librarian. But it was too late to exit. The car was in motion.

              The lights flickered as the car rose from one, to two, three, then finally level four. One level away from safety. He turned to make conversation, but the lights in the elevator shut off in an instant, drenching them both in complete blackness.

              When they flickered back on, he saw her hanging from the ceiling by a rope.
A noose,
the voice corrected him. She let out a blood-curdling scream through lips that had been sewn shut. Blood gushed from eye sockets that no longer housed their counterparts, and she began to convulse violently. In the now flickering light the motion took on an even more horrific appearance.

              Connor found the "Door Open" button and pounded it feverishly, heaving breaths that staggered, inconsistent breaths, until finally he heard the
ding
of the elevator doors
.
They opened and he fell backwards onto the lobby floor of the fifth level. He turned around only long enough to scramble to his hands and knees, and finally his feet. Spinning back around he saw the door still standing open, but the librarian was nowhere to be found. A low laughing met him, and he knew that Kit couldn't be far - and that she likely had company.

              Making his way to the mirror, he marveled at the quiet of the library, the deafening sort of silence that should have been peaceful but that made it impossible for him to calm his trembling hands. The mirror appeared as it had the last time he'd seen it, but like everything else, something was off. Something was different. Voices greeted him in an ethereal chant. Looking into the mirror he felt as though he could somehow see beyond it. As he looked harder the voices, screaming now, merged into one. A voice he knew well, screaming and shrieking.

              Kit.

              Just as he was about to touch the mirror, she appeared in its glass. She pounded with her fists and kicked the rim, trying desperately to get through.

              "Kit! Kit! I'm here!'
              "Connor! Oh my God, Connor, I thought I'd never see you again. I thought they killed you!"

              "No way. I came to find you. Where....how..."

              "There's no time, Connor, listen to me very carefully. You have something, a stone. The stone is extremely important and very powerful. You can control it, but you have to find out how. It's the only source of protection you have, do you know what I'm talking about?"

              "Yes. But how..."

              "Listen to me, we don't have a lot of time. I should have left here a long time ago after Rumsfeld sent me through, but I had to stay. I had to get the message to you. It is of utmost importance that you keep the stone with you and safe at all times. Do not trust
anyone
with it. Nobody. No matter how well you think you know them. You're about to enter a world where nothing is what it seems, and anything is possible, and you've got a giant target on your back."

              "The stone - how do I use it?"

              "I can't tell you that. Only you can unlock its power. The only thing I can tell you is to trust your heart, and follow your instinct. Everything in this place runs on intention -
everything
."

              "O..okay. Okay, I'll remember," he said, not sure that he would.

              "Listen to me, I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry for what I said. Just trust me, okay?"

              "I trust you. I trust you, Kit, I'm sorry for everything, too. I shouldn't have -- "

              His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed tears that threatened to engulf him, drown him.

              "It's okay. It's alright. Everything's going to be okay, got it?"

              As she spoke, figures emerged behind her, light at first, then darker, tall and shadowy. Something about the foggy moss-covered place struck him as familiar, and on the heels of that thought came the realization that before him stood the very embodiment of the vision he'd seen on the way to the library. Beautiful, but deadly. The figures came into fuller form. He looked closer...and his heart froze with horror.

              "Kit! Behind you! Demafae!"

              "What? I can't...Connor, I can't hear you! The portal...it's disappearing!"

              "KIT! RUN!" He pointed furiously behind her, trying to get her to turn around.

              "I have to tell you something...."

              "NO! RUN!"

              A Demafae came closer, floating toward her. It reached out with is boney, fleshless hands. He watched in horror as she fell to the ground, her image disappearing. Fog covered the mirror, and pained, tortured screams reached through to him like daggers to his heart. He pounded on the glass with all his might.

              "KIT! KIT!!!"

              Looking around for something he could use to get through, to open the portal, he found nothing. Only one person controlled this portal, and it wasn't him. He looked up at the mirror once more, hoping to see Kit, hoping to bring her back like she'd done for him.

              The only image staring back at him was his own.