Chapter 10 King #2
My brow furrowed. None of the magical people in my life carried this smell. The scents of herbs and florals surrounded those in my life. Which I got, but there were undertones of sulfur and fire, and yet, something clean.
“Close your eyes, Kingston. Feel it all.”
Like his voice put me under a spell, my body stopped moving, and my eyelids closed. All the conflicting smells overwhelmed me as they mingled in my nose. What should have made a noxious order somehow didn’t—instead, they were like a symphony. If we could bottle this or capture it as a picture—
And then I was on a voyage, much like the one I’d been used to growing up and walked above the normal world, drawn to a location and looking down on it.
But this was different. My body moved quickly, but it didn’t feel rushed, more like long enough to study the snapshots in a photo album. One place to another.
I stood on the cap of a snow-covered mountain, then in the heat of a desert.
The open plains of lands teaming with lions languishing in the sun, to the middle of woods, and the roar of a bear in the distance.
Then there were villages and cities, filled with inhabitants who were dressed in old-time wear, and then fashionable, trendy now.
As I went, different scents became sharper in my nose.
It was like they were leading me on this journey.
The motion stopped, and I was on a beach. Scanning the horizon, I recognized this as home. Willowhope Beach. Malcolm appeared beside me. “Many a ritual happens near these waters.”
I didn’t know if he meant near the Atlantic Ocean, or right in this spot specifically, but before I could ask, in a blink, we were beside the Beckoning Pond on Chance’s property.
Buck fished while hanging out with a couple of the ghosts who resided out here, all of them hovering in the air.
They didn’t do that when I was with them.
We took normal seated positions on logs or the ground, and I wondered curiously if the spirits did that for me.
To make me comfortable? Was floating more their natural state?
Off to the side, leaning against the Hallowed Tree like a couple of young adults would if they were still alive and hanging out, sat Stevie and Trixie.
It was nice to see Trixie smile as the young man teased her.
She was still relatively new to this afterlife business, so I tried to spend a little time with her every other day or so.
It was nice to see that Stevie had taken an interest in reassuring her, as well.
I’d noticed lately that he was leaving Scotty’s side more and more, allowing them both to live a little more independently.
I understood why it had been hard for them at first to be separated.
Stevie had trailed Scotty since his death without his brother being aware.
Scotty had thought himself alone in the world, scared and lonely, so to have found this place—because of Chance’s gifts—where they could actually be united…
priceless. But Stevie was dead, and Scotty lived; they needed to find their own way.
“Hey,” I called out to Buck and his crew, lifting a hand.
By my side, Malcolm huffed. “It feels like we’re right here with them, doesn’t it? But they can’t see you. We’re not really here.”
“What’s that mean?”
Like I hadn’t asked a question, Malcolm continued. “This pond, this property, is one of the most powerful spots in the world. Definitely the most powerful in the country. Did you know that?”
“Of course.”
Malcolm huffed. “I know you do.” He patted my shoulder.
“I knew there was something different about you from the beginning. I’d never really investigated dreamwalking.
Never had a reason to, I suppose.” He turned toward me, cocking an eyebrow.
“I’m assuming your grandfather is still wandering this plane? Perhaps as a ghost?”
“How do you know that?” I asked sharply. Who was Malcolm? What was he? How did he know all this? Why did he know? Did Gran know that he was a…whatever?
“Let’s go back to The Vault, and I’ll explain it to you.”
“The what?”
Before I finished, we were standing back in the library-like room. A rustic wood table with two chairs that hadn’t been there before were now in the middle of the room. A small thin notebook lay on the surface of the table, lined up between the two chairs.
“Let’s sit,” Malcolm said.
His words were kind, but the pressure in the backslap he gave me in the direction of one of the chairs brooked no argument. Like I’d go anywhere else right now. I wanted—needed—to understand what all of this was. How I’d gone from smelling to…what? Astro projecting around the country? The world?
Malcolm sat next to me, staring down at the plain black notebook.
The only interesting thing about it was the leather cover.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
As he exhaled, his hand hovered over the top of the book, and gold lettering appeared on the cover.
The symbols that made up the words made no sense to me, though.
“What’s it say?”
He side-eyed me. “Let’s ask.”
Smoothing his hands gently over the cover, he muttered, “It is me. Let me see. Show me all that I might, who I was created to be.”
The symbols swirled and moved, finally resting in the most simple but profound thing I’d ever seen.
The Dreamwalkers
Like me, like me and Sky together. This was awesome.
Epic. We’d been wandering around in the dark for weeks, unsure of exactly what to do or not do.
My grandparents had been little to no help, wanting us to learn by experience, I guess.
But that man last night? We couldn’t help him.
This could hold the answers we were looking for.
It was a bit thin, but hell, maybe it was never-ending or something once opened.
Goodness knows, everything else so far this morning held mysteries.
“Holy shit.” With growing excitement, I reached out a hand, then snatched it back. “Sorry. It’s just, I’ve needed a guide, and my gran hasn’t been—”
Malcolm gripped my shoulder. “This isn’t a guide, son. It’s an index. More details would be in the Tomes or Grimoires of the tethers through the ages. This is…look.”
He let me go and flipped through the pages until he came to the last one, and there, together, were two lines:
Dreamwalker: Kingston Porter
Tether: Skylar Reign
This time, when I reached out, I didn’t jerk my hand back, but I traced the names on the page. “It’s…how did you know?” I asked him.
He nodded down at the notebook—no, the index. “Your name appeared.”
“Why?” I asked.
“So I’d know.” He shrugged. “It’s very rare that I need the knowledge, but sometimes it prepares me to pull the necessary Tome or Grimoire from the family line. Other times, it alerts me that the tether won’t have one. Then it’s my job to prepare.”
Holy shit. I looked around the room at all the large old books. As I really zeroed in, I noticed that some of them were dusty, but others had been pushed in amongst those, clean like they’d recently been handled. Shit. This could be what Sky and I had been looking for. Answers.
“Is this why I’m here? So you can give me my Tome?”
He shook his head, closed the index, and it blinked out of sight. Behind me, I heard what sounded like a drawer opening, so I whipped my head around. Behind us, in the back corner, was a file box—not like the silver ones I was used to seeing; this one was made of wood.
“That back there is where all the indexes are held. The details of the spells and chants or the lives of those listed aren’t in there, but I have their names so that I know where to look.
” His gaze moved back to mine. “You’re a Dreamwalker.
As I told you before, your tether will have what you need. ”
“But my gran,” I protest. “She’s a tether. Won’t her—”
The quick shake of his head cut me off. “No, Kingston. Your grandmother’s line is still alive. Through her. At some point, she may choose a successor for her Grimoire. If not, when she passes on to the next life, it will find its resting place here.”
Trying to connect the dots as fast as I could, I nodded. “Okay, so you’ll be what? Magicking up a Tome or whatever for Sky? Is that how it works?”
Malcolm’s green orbs bore into mine, but there was sympathy there, too. A compassion I didn’t understand. He cleared his throat. “His family has their own Grimoire. The knowledge his line needs is written as it's obtained.”
Now I was confused. No one in Sky’s family had magic. Sky knew nothing about spirits and spells or any of this before his best friend moved here. I looked around again. “So where is it? You’re saying it magically fills itself in? How can he access it? Use it?”
Malcolm licks his lips. “It’s not here.”
“Why wouldn’t it…” I trailed off at the implication of what he was not saying. If it wasn’t here, then it hadn’t been thought that his line had died out. And if he wasn’t the first, then somewhere out there… “Someone in Sky’s family has his Grimoire?”
He nodded. “Indeed, they do.”
“But how? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It is not the Lorewarden’s job to solve these mysteries.” He gripped my shoulder tighter. “Even when he’s the one in charge of The Vault.”
Lore what? “What’s that? The job you said…Lore whatever?”
“Lorewarden,” he enunciated, “is the keeper of magical knowledge.”
Okay, that seemed like a lot. Not wanting to get lost in unnecessary details right now, I pushed for what I was most concerned about. “So you can’t help Skylar?”
He shook his head. “Nor can you, Lorewarden.”
My eyes opened. “Lore…why are you calling me that? I’m a Dreamwalker, not a Lorewarden.”
“Oh, but you are, Kingston Porter. You’ve been my Lorewarden in training for years.”
The fuck?