Authors: Joe Ducie
“So, in theory,” Ethan said. “Just
in theory… you could pull, like, a black hole out of a book? And it would
swallow the planet?”
I slapped him upside his head.
“That’s stupid. You’re stupid. In theory, yes, but the power and complexity of
the Willcraft needed… is damn near immeasurable. It would take every Knight
that had ever lived in the past thousand years working together to even
approach something like that. And for what end? They’d all be killed as the
Solar System was sucked down the plughole.”
“Oh, that’s no good.”
“No, which is why the Knights exist
in the first place—to ensure something like that doesn’t happen. Now pay
attention, princess.”
We spent the next hour learning how
to pull a simple construct of Will from the written page. As with many things,
the magic came down to a matter of will over Will: self-control, determination,
and resolve, infused with the ascending oils that burn at the heart of
creation. Young Knights, apprentices at the Academy, are taught to do this
until they can dive into a book, in whole or in part, and draw forth whatever
they needed. Weapons, food, clothing—safe passage through the Void—anything and
everything. Intent and imagination,
desire
, could make fiction a
reality.
Just before six, Ethan figured the
trick out and managed to levitate a book a good three feet off the counter. His
success made him lose focus, and the thin tome hit the counter with a slap.
“Ha, you see that?”
“Well done.” Sophie squeezed his
hand. “I’m just popping to the washroom.” She gave her boyfriend a certain
look, something I couldn’t read, but it seemed ominous.
“So how you doing, boss?” Ethan
asked, once Sophie had ascended the spiral staircase, which was littered with
dollar paperbacks. “With everything.”
I took a deep breath, held it, and
poured myself two finger’s worth of Bowmore Islay, the peatiest of scotch,
before exhaling. “Sophie put you up to this, didn’t she?”
Ethan shrugged. “So what if she did?
I worry as much as she does. You took quite a blow a few months ago, and now a
new mess.”
“I died. Clare died. I came back to
life. Clare did not.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t pretend you can understand that.
You’re ten years of fighting in a war away from ever understanding that.”
“No, I’m not pretending anything. I
just… look, you can speak to me, Dec. Declan. Eh… you know, like if you want
to.”
“Eloquent. And what worldly advice can
you impart, hmm? Tell me, Ethan, have you ever heard a Clock scream?”
Ethan tilted his head and snatched
the scotch glass from my hand. He tossed the amber liquid back with a grimace.
“Few years ago,” he began, and then stopped and shivered. The scotch hit him
hard, the way it does when you’re young and not the wise old age of twenty-five
like I was.
“I’ll give you a second…”
“About a year ago.” He put the glass
down and licked his lips. Scotch, good peaty scotch, was an acquired taste.
“Before Sophie, I was at this Halloween party. It was at the uni tav, actually.
Heh. Love that place.”
“If you’re—”
“Just listen. If I don’t at least
try, Sophie will slap me. And I’m already in the hole at least two liters of
mint choc-chip.” Ethan paused, and when I said nothing, he continued. “So I’m
at this Halloween party, and there’s this girl.”
“Of course there is.”
“I know, right?”
“Pretty?”
“Beautiful.”
“Love at first sight?”
“Mate, she was dressed as a slutty
pumpkin. I was the handsome zombie. It’s like we were destined to be together.”
“I think I’ve heard this story
before.”
“We had an awesome night. A
really
awesome night. She was great. Just… just lovely to be around, you know?” He
sighed. “Her name was Amber, and she was killed the next day in a car accident,
just off Leach Highway. Drunk driver.”
“Are you comparing the night of
broken twilight when I forfeited my shadow and Tal’s soul was blasted across
the endless realms of creation, forcing the Degradation and my exile, to a
slutty pumpkin? Or the day Clare was torn apart by a horde of undead on the
Plains of Perdition, to a dalliance you had a year ago at a children’s party?”
“I…” Ethan snorted. “Yes.”
“I’ve killed men for less.” But was
I being fair to the lad? No, not really. “Have you ever heard of a man named
James Thorn?”
“Thorn?” Ethan shrugged. “No, can’t
say that I have.”
“I didn’t think you had, no. He was
a soldier—a Knight Infernal—during the Tome Wars. Bit of a prick, but a
loveable prick.”
“Thorn. Prick. Nice.”
“We were at the Infernal Academy together,
started in the same year, at the Fae Palace. He was a funny guy. Born in
Zambia, in this world. Black as the ace of spades and always smiling. Always.
Could do some really impressive tricks with bands of concentrated Will: hide
entire ships in cloaks of invisibility or reinforce armor plating until it was
damn near indestructible. You could fly those ships through the heart of the
sun without melting the ice in your scotch.”
“Is he…? He’s dead, isn’t he?”
I clapped my hands together twice
and pointed at him. “Got it in one, Reilly. Yes, he’s dead. Anyway, growing up,
he was always laughing about how one day he was going to steal an
Eternity-class cruiser—think of a spaceship, like the Millennium Falcon from
Star Wars—and become an outlaw in the Uncharted Realms.”
“Uncharted Realms?”
“The thousands upon thousands of
worlds in Forget that have never been explored but exist as sparkling jewels of
the Story Thread nonetheless.”
“Oh.”
Sophie should have long since
returned from the washroom. She was giving Ethan and me our moment. “Yeah, he
had a dream. Handsome space pirate. I think James just liked the idea of flying
through the unknown, world to world, universe to universe, away from the
Knights and the Renegades and the Tome Wars. We all had something we’d rather
be doing, back then. For me, that was Sophie’s sister.”
“What happened to him?”
“He never made it beyond Voraskel.”
Ethan turned the word over on his
tongue. “Voraskel? I almost don’t want to ask…”
“One of the worst battles of the Tome
Wars. Best left forgotten, you know. They’ll still be burying the dead there
long after we’ve moved on. A lot of friends died, and died hard. My point is
bereavement, Ethan, the demise of someone, death, passing away… everyone deals
with it on their own.” A curious thought occurred to me then. “And it’s okay to
be afraid, you know.”
Ethan fell silent, and a moment
later Sophie returned. It took her all of half a second to judge the silence
and sigh.
“What are you boys talking about?”
“Nothing helpful, I guess.” Ethan
turned his palms toward the ceiling and paused. A knock on my front door shook
him out of his reverie. “I don’t know where I was going with that Halloween
story, Declan. Sorry.”
I stepped across the shop,
navigating the maze of books once more, under the evanescent chandeliers. The
sun hadn’t set, but the sky visible through the tall windows was burned orange
and darkening fast.
Annie Brie was at the door, looking
tired but standing strong in her brown leather jacket. A pair of sunglasses hung
from the collar of her blouse.
I flipped over my ward sign,
unlocked the door, and tried to look chipper. “Detective Brie, three times in
one day? Don’t tell me something else has happened.”
I stepped aside and let her cross
the threshold of my shop. She looked around, mildly interested, at the
near-impenetrable stacks of books, haphazardly strewn about the place and along
the bulging bookcases. As most did, she took a deep breath and enjoyed the
scent of leather-bound tomes.
“No. I’ve just come from the latest
crime scene in Osborne Park. It was…” She grimaced. “It was messy. Detective
Grey and I believe you may need police protection, given the events of the
day.”
“Oh?” I chuckled. “You believe it,
but Grey wasn’t so easy to convince, was he?”
Brie opened her mouth to speak but
then caught sight of Sophie and Ethan and fell short. “Miss Levy, Mr. Reilly.
How are you?”
“Right as rain,” Ethan said. “Clean
bill of health from the hospital. We were just leaving, actually.”
Sophie and Ethan linked arms. “Yes,
off to make dinner and see a movie.”
“Be careful out there,” I said and
meant it. “You can stay here tonight, you know.”
An unspoken warning laced my words.
Sophie and Ethan heard it well. Brie looked confused, her eyes darting among our
small little group. She sensed what we
weren’t
talking about.
“Probably safer away from you.”
Sophie chuckled. “Story of my life, right? Good evening, Declan. Detective.”
Ethan waved his goodbye, and Sophie
gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before they departed back to the
university campus and their shared accommodation.
After they were gone, I looked at
Brie and shoved my hands into my pockets, rocking back and forth on my heels.
“So you’re here to protect me?”
“Yes.”
“From what?”
Brie blinked. “Seriously? You were
shot at today, and someone is killing people to taunt you. In the law
enforcement business, we call that a reasonable concern. I’m with you until
midnight, while a uniform rotation is worked out; then you’ll have two officers
on protective detail until we catch whoever’s responsible. Sound good?”
No, that did not sound good. I
needed room to work, to direct my attention on whomever or whatever had
targeted me. Again, I could flee to Forget—there were plenty of places to hide
along the Story Thread, the nerve center of all creation, but even then the
Knights or the Renegades would find me eventually. They had their ways. And if
I fled True Earth… damned twice.
“I’m going to call you Annie from
now on.”
“Detective Brie, please, Mr. Hale.”
I nodded and shrugged into my
waistcoat, holstering a copy of
Midnight Steel
by Issac Groust, a former
king of the Knights Infernal. Annie looked at me funny but said nothing.
“Dinner time, I should think. Care to join me at Paddy’s Pub, just down the
road?”
“For your own protection I think we
should order in—”
“Nonsense. It’s steak night at
Paddy’s. My kingdom for the half-kilo rump steak, medium rare, Annie Brie. With
pepper sauce, of course.”
I stepped outside, holding the door open
for Annie, and flipped my ward sign back over to “Closed.” An invisible shimmer
of power rippled across the storefront, making us both shiver.
“What was that?”
“Magic force fields. Come along now,
I’ll lead the way.”
The atmosphere in Paddy’s Pub was
always one of merriment and a taste of wild abandon. I think the same could be
said for Irish pubs the world over. Something about tables squirreled away in
little nooks, pretty bargirls, and strong, warm walls adorned with aluminum
drink placards, for Guinness and Bulmer’s and good, strong Jameson’s, that sat
well with the soul.
“I’m getting the steak,” I said and
pushed the menu aside without even opening it. Annie and I sat at a table for
two on the edge of the dining room across from the bar. Soft shadows danced
along the wall from a dozen tea light candles scattered across the tables.
“Good steak here. Scotch fillet for around thirty dollars. With pepper or
garlic sauce. Or both. None of that healthy salad nonsense, either; just a
stack of chips or mash.”
“I’ve not been hungry all day.
Especially after what happened.” Annie inhaled a deep breath of the warm air
wafting over from the kitchen. “But right now I could eat enough for three.”
“I recommend the steak.”
“Yes, I get that. But let’s pretend
for a moment I don’t want to eat a half-kilo of meat. Anything else you’d
recommend?”
I thought about it. “You know… I
don’t know. I’ve always gotten the steak.”
“What about the gnocchi?”
I flinched. Last time I’d brought a
woman here, she’d gotten that particular dish. And a few days later killed me.
No, that wasn’t fair. I’d already been dying. She’d just made sure of it.
“Gnocchi’s a brave offering for an
Irish pub, don’t you think?”
Annie folded her menu and played
with her tall glass of lemon, lime, and bitters. “Perhaps the vegetable pie.”
We ordered and made small talk until
our food arrived. A nothing-conversation about wine, books, and the merits of
fine scotch. Topics best avoided until after dinner included the grisly
murders, the attempt on my life, Annie’s shooting, and the weather.
“You’re engaged,” I said, gesturing
to the modest white gold band on her ring finger, as we were finishing our
dinner. Time had flown by, as it often does in good, warm company.