Death Mage (Prof Croft Book 4) Read online

  “This way!” I shouted back at James.

  A hand on the top of his cowboy hat, James climbed inside, shot a worried glance at Lich as he crossed the room, and followed me down the hallway. I threw open the doorway under the staircase. “Illuminare!” I shouted. Light swelled from the orb as James and I raced down the staircase and across the basement’s earthen floor. At the basement’s far end, the casting circle was still intact.

  “Inside the circle,” I panted.

  James followed me into the etched circle, and we turned toward the staircase. “So, double bluff?” he asked.

  “Double bluff,” I confirmed.

  From the stairs, a pair of glowing eyes approached. I aimed my trembling cane at it. “Is someone going to tell me what in Lucifer’s name is going on?” Tabitha asked, her orange coat emerging into my light.

  “Quick,” I said, waving to her, “get inside!”

  To Tabitha’s credit, she picked up her pace to a heavy trot and even jumped over the edge of the circle so as not to disrupt it. “Ooh, who’s this?” she asked, blinking up at James.

  “James Wesson,” he said, affecting a slight drawl. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

  “Believe me, the pleasure’s entirely mine,” Tabitha replied.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I asked.

  “Your pager,” James said, gesturing to my pocket. Sure enough, there was a heavy lump there again. “When I asked to hold it back at the bar, I slipped a hair of dog ear between the device and case. Gave me something to eavesdrop through for the last few days, make sure you were shooting straight. When I heard Chicory denying all the things you’d done, I knew the fix was in. I tracked the hair here before the magic over the house had ramped up to full strength.” He looked around. “But now what are we doing?”

  Arianna had said I was to return to the portal on my side and they would transport me back to the Refuge. I was about to tell James as much, when the house began to shake. Debris rained from the rafters overhead. At the far end of the basement, a green glow descended the stairs.

  “Cerrare,” I shouted, snapping the circle closed.

  But had I just protected us, I wondered, or trapped us?

  Lich appeared at the center of the sickly orb of energy, the outstretched fingers of one hand writhing toward us. I felt the magic penetrate the circle, penetrate our minds. Tabitha’s hair puffed out, and she let out a low yowl. Even James looked uneasy as he edged back a step.

  C’mon, already, I thought desperately toward Connell and Arianna.

  “You’re only fleeing the inevitable,” Lich said. “If not here, then there…”

  With the next blink of my eyes, we were in the forest in the Refuge. Connell, Arianna, and a small army of magic-users surrounded the clearing, wands aimed toward us. James adjusted his cowboy hat as he turned in a circle.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “Stand clear!” Connell shouted.

  I became aware of a ripping sound above me. Tabitha bolted from the clearing first. James and I followed, taking up positions behind the ring of magic-users. Above the spot where we had been standing, reality itself was tearing open onto a growing black portal.

  Calling power to my prism, I readied my cane.

  Lich was coming through.

  21

  Lich’s eyes burned yellow, his red robes flapping around him in the widening portal between our worlds. In one hand he held a wand while with his other, he fashioned a warding sign. His lips moved in a chant, but above the tearing noise, I couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  “Respingere!” Connell cried. A current of blinding white energy ripped from his wand and exploded into Lich.

  The other magic-users began to cast as well, streams colliding into the portal like ribbons of lightning. Within seconds a harsh scent of ozone filled the air—and no wonder. These were centuries-old practitioners unleashing some of the most powerful magic I’d ever witnessed. Any contribution I made would be puny in comparison.

  I readied my cane anyway, squinting at the flashing impact site where Lich had been emerging. How much more magic could his defenses withstand? They surely had to be faltering, I thought, though with more hope than conviction. Lich was a first-generation magic-user and drawing power from a being more ancient than the oldest saints, a being that hungered for chaos.

  A black tentacle shot from the exploding light and wrapped around a female practitioner’s throat. She dropped her wand as the tentacle hoisted her into the air. Another tentacle twisted itself into a man’s long blond hair and jerked him from his feet. He shouted above the noise.

  I sprinted toward the woman, who was closer. I instinctively pulled on my sword handle, forgetting that Lich’s magic had entrapped the blade inside the staff. It refused to release.

  Switching my grip, I aimed the cane at the tentacle and shouted, “Vigore!”

  Much like what had happened in Lazlo’s cellar, the power that emanated from the cane passed through the tentacle as though it wasn’t there. More tentacles shot by me. Shouts and choked screams punctuated the riot of noise. As magic-users flailed, the streams of energy from their wands dwindled until I could see Lich again.

  He was larger now, closer. His wand and hand were maintaining a protective field while writhing tentacles sprouted from his back. Without the Elder book to staunch the flow of Dhuul’s influence, Lich was stronger than the last time he had come through, as Chicory.

  He might actually overpower them this time, I thought.

  Savage barking sounded, and several of the Refuge’s mastiffs broke past me. Connell tried to shout them back, but they took no heed. They changed as they sprinted, white flames enveloping their muscular forms, making them appear larger, more mythic. One by one, they leaped at the portal, at Lich, only to burst apart. White flames rained around the clearing.

  “Submit to the power of Dhuul!” Lich called, his molars bulging through the skin of his jaw. “Submit and all will be forgiven! I will take you with me! I will make you all immortals!”

  The tentacles extending from his back gave a hard wrench. A pair of sick crunches sounded, and the woman and blond-haired man he had first seized plummeted to the ground.

  “The alternative is death,” he finished.

  Anger exploded through me and emerged from my lungs as a “Forza dura!”

  I thrust the cane toward Lich. Somewhere beneath my storm of emotions, I knew it was a futile act. But this was the mage who had murdered my mother, who had watched her burn, and who continued to flaunt his disregard for life. My invocation was as spontaneous as it would no doubt prove ineffective.

  But the force that burst from my cane staggered the mage. I blinked for a second. I hadn’t imagined it. Lich had taken a step back, tentacles recoiling. And the look on his face… What remained of Grandpa’s enchantment had hurt the son of a bitch.

  I gathered my breath for another blast, but before I could release the Word, a tentacle lashed toward me. I swung the cane into its path. The tentacle caught it, wrapping the opal end.

  “Respingere!” I cried, struggling to hold on.

  Light and force pulsed from the opal, but the tentacle smothered both. I leaned from its muscular pull, the heels of my shoes digging into the ground. As the tentacle writhed toward my white-knuckled grip, I began to feel Lich’s warping power, began to feel my thoughts pulling at the seams, threatening to burst into violence and disorder. A straining whine emerged from between my clenched teeth as I fought to hold onto the cane as well as my sanity.

  No matter what, something was telling me, you cannot lose your sword and staff.

  Lich was staring down at me, the vessels throbbing over his head. A grim determination creased his face, even as more magic-users arrived and fresh energy collided into his shield. I was practically sitting now, like the anchor in a game of tug-of-war, my palms on fire. The tentacle wound toward my cramping hands. My grip slipped to the end of the cane handle.

&nb
sp; And the blade slid free.

  I fell onto my back. The tentacle whipped back toward the portal, clutching my staff. I heard magic-users thud down around me as the remaining tentacles released them. The tentacles disappeared into the portal along with Lich as the final emanations from the magic-users closed the opening.

  Smoke drifted through the silent clearing.

  Someone coughed. I looked from my naked blade toward the sound to find one of the magic-users who had been hoisted up writhing on the ground, clutching her throat. A green-black bruising stained the skin around her neck. Her eyes bugged madly from her face.

  Arianna rushed to her and spoke a healing incantation. Moments later, light from her wand enveloped the woman. When the light receded, the woman was gone, transported to the palace to be purged of Whisperer magic. Several others who had been injured were treated similarly by other magic-users.

  “That was some crazy-ass shit,” James said, coming up beside me, smoke curling from the end of his wand.

  I nodded numbly as we watched the two who had been killed being covered with manifested sheets. Beyond them, a graying magic-user stooped to recover his wand. I watched him closely, wondering if he was Marlow, my father.

  “Are you two all right?” Connell asked.

  “I’m fine,” I said, turning to face him. James grunted a similar sentiment. I looked up at the space where the portal had stood moments before. “Is it closed? Can he come back through?”

  “It’s sealed tight,” Connell assured me.

  A horrible thought hit me. “By coming back here, did I let him through?”

  “Any passage creates a temporary soft spot in the membrane between our worlds, but that’s not your fault, Everson. Lich’s power is growing such that he’ll soon be able to come and go at will.”

  Well, that part is definitely my fault, I thought sickly, remembering the triumph I’d felt when I destroyed what I’d thought was Lich’s book. Connell gripped my shoulder and lowered his gaze to mine. A layer of perspiration made the faint scars stand out from his face.

  “We’re at war, Everson. The most important one we’ll ever wage. We can’t agonize over every battle. That may sound heartless, but it’s the reality. What matters is that you know the truth and that you’re here.” He clapped my shoulders firmly. “And you’ve brought reinforcements.”

  I nodded, still not convinced I hadn’t screwed everything up. “This is James Wesson,” I said. “James, Connell.”

  As they shook hands, Connell said, “We followed you some years ago.”

  James gave him a suspicious look while my own brow creased in question. Then I remembered the Front’s ability to tap into the demonic realm. Like with Tabitha, they must have had a line to the demon who had taken possession of James when he was a teenager.

  “And you already know this one,” I said, cocking my head toward Tabitha, who had just descended from a tree. She stalked toward us, a “what the fuck have you gotten me into?” look souring her face.

  “Tabitha,” he said, “I’m Connell. Welcome.”

  She muttered something about not having eaten a decent meal in days.

  “Come,” Connell said, already striding from the clearing. “Let’s return to the palace. There’s much to do and not much time.”

  I started to sheath my sword before remembering my staff had disappeared into the portal with Lich. Damn. I slid the blade through my belt instead and hurried to catch up to Connell and the others.

  While James was taken to a dining room for a late dinner, Connell escorted me back to the infirmary. “You’re tainted with Whisperer magic,” he explained. “Not to the extent as before, but it’s in you.”

  “Probably during my exchange with Chicory—I mean, Lich,” I said, remembering how, among other things, he’d made me see my flight itinerary as a packing list.

  Connell nodded. “There’s no shame. It’s powerful magic.”

  “How about James?” I asked.

  “He’s fine, but your cat was infected. Her cleaning will be quick.”

  Lich must have retrieved Tabitha from my apartment on his way back to the safe house and used magic to convince her she’d never left, that she’d tended to me in my catatonic state. I removed my shirt and lay in my former bed. Arianna entered with a steaming basin of healing water.

  “Welcome back,” she said with the warmth of a mother. I noticed a thin tension around her eyes, though. Connell wore the same tension, but it was in the lines of his jaw.

  “The situation with Lich,” I said. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s urgent,” Connell said. “Once Arianna finishes, we’re going to hold council to discuss the situation. In the meantime, I’d like to hear what happened out there, from your departure to your return.”

  I started telling them. When I got to my trip in Romania, I described the condition in which I’d found Lazlo’s body. I told them what Lazlo had said, including his request that I take his hair.

  “That may help us find Lich’s glass pendant,” Connell said, then frowned. “Lazlo fought in the war against the Inquisition, but he wasn’t a member of the Front. Your grandfather was very careful about who he selected. There were undoubtedly many good and powerful magic-users who never knew the true nature of the Order until it was too late. Your grandfather felt awful about that, but he feared that the larger the resistance, the greater the chance someone would undermine it from within. With so much at stake, he kept the resistance small.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  “What happened then?” Arianna asked.

  I described the attack by the shadow creatures as well as by Olga’s father later that night, drawing comparisons to the attacks James told me had happened near Elsie’s former home.

  “You’re right,” she said as she set damp towels over my injuries, the towels’ warm, healing water drawing the Whisperer magic from my system. “The shadow creatures use the portals between the fallen magic-users and the domain of Dhuul to spread fear and madness. The effects are local, but that will change when the portal to Dhuul is complete.”

  “It’s already changing,” I said, telling them about the situation in the city.

  “Then he may be closer to completing the portal than we feared,” Connell said.

  As Arianna incanted softly over me, I finished the account with my confrontation with Chicory at the safe house and how I’d become convinced he was Lich. The room wavered over their nodding heads. My eyelids grew heavy. As Connell’s and Arianna’s forms began to blur, I saw something I had received subtle hints of but never put together.

  I’ll be damned, I thought blearily.

  Following our confrontation with Lich, I had watched the other men of the Front, especially the older ones. I had sized them up, studied their eyes, the angles of their faces, all the time ignoring the man beside me. Now, I could see it clearly in his fading stance, so similar to my own.

  Connell is Marlow, I thought as I drifted off.

  Connell is my father.

  22

  I was awakened by an automaton removing the towels from my body. The room was dark save for the two moons glowing through an open window. I sat up on the edge of the bed and inhaled through my nose. I had been cleansed, the Whisperer magic purged from my system.

  The male automaton handed me my shirt.

  “Thanks,” I said before I could catch myself. I was talking to a magic-imbued machine. And thank God, I thought, thinking of the automatons I’d decapitated and gutted on my first visit to the Refuge, believing them the enemy. Those could have been members of the Front. Or my father.

  “I’m to take you to the council meeting,” the automaton said.

  “Okay.”

  I finished dressing and followed the automaton from the infirmary room. We walked down handsome stone corridors and climbed several stairways. As the automaton’s gears whirred quietly, the revelation I’d had before falling asleep spun through my thoughts. I felt both a short-breathed exci
tement to see Connell and a deepening anxiety. What did you say to a father you’d never met? Hey, Pops, how’s it going? We should, you know, go fishing sometime?

  Before long we arrived in the altar room on the top level, the same room where I’d seized what I’d believed was Lich’s book. Whisperer magic polluting my senses, the room had appeared evil then, with its gunked-up statue pillars and foul pool.

  Now, it appeared grand.

  Around the room, the massive statues of the nine First Saints gleamed marble-white, their hewn forms and faces speaking to power and wisdom. The raised pool at the room’s center was still long and rectangular, but its water was deep blue and lined in handsome stones. More than twenty magic-users sat around the pool, including James, who was easy to pick out with his cowboy hat.

  Connell and Arianna sat on the pool’s far side in robes. My heart gave a hard double thud when Connell raised his eyes to mine. “Have a seat, Everson,” he said, indicating a place across from him.

  I settled in beside James.

  “Too bad you missed dinner,” James whispered. “They had a killer spread.”

  “Tabitha must have been in seventh heaven,” I muttered, imagining her in a food coma on a plush bed somewhere.

  “She could barely walk afterwards,” James affirmed.

  I peered around. The other members of the Front were men and women of varying ages and races, some recruited by my grandfather, no doubt, others born and trained within the Refuge. I considered how remote the highest echelons of the Order had always felt to me. Now, for all intents and purposes, I was sitting among them.

  Connell stood. “The situation is more dire than we feared,” he said. “Though our efforts slow Lich’s progress, they cannot staunch the outflow of Whisperer magic. That magic is pouring into the world, beginning the dissolution, a process that will gain momentum as it deepens and spreads. Lich has only to bide his time, but he appears intent on hastening that process.”