Chapter 1 #2
“An illusion?” But no, illusions didn’t inflict mortal damage. He was talking nonsense. “Mon, please let me get you help.”
“No use.” He sucked in a noisy breath. “Get the envelope I told you about…bottom desk drawer…and go.”
She sputtered a hysterical laugh. “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you.”
“Stupid, but not…crazy.” He gasped, his hand tightening on hers. “The person who sent it…danger, ducky.”
His words sank in. “You’re saying someone sent that lightning bolt to kill you?” The thought squeezed her throat, especially when he nodded.
“Read my…letter…explains everything.” Mon spoke with what looked like every ounce of his remaining strength. “Do not see your grandfather. Too…dangerous.”
“Brom’s been in that mental hospital in Alaska for years. Wait, are you saying he did this?”
Mon’s eyes widened with determination. “Cyntag, he…” He shuddered, then fell limp.
“No. No!” She put her fists on the uninjured part of his chest and pumped. “Come back. Come back, damn it.” Even in her disbelief, grief tore at her.
A sound whispered behind her. She spun to find the green ball sailing down the curved stairs and into the den.
An acrid smell hit her nostrils. Smoke rolled out of the upstairs hallway, and she heard a whoosh in the den.
The ball shot back out and hovered a few yards in front of her.
She stared at it, almost mesmerized by the green sparks inside—until it came at her.
With a yelp, Ruby ducked as it whizzed so close that she felt a sting on her forehead, then smelled burnt hair.
Her hair. She grabbed one of the knives she’d dropped as she launched to her feet.
It tingled in her hand, emitting faint electrical shocks.
She couldn’t take even a second to look at it.
The ball floated a few feet away, following her movements.
Following her movements?
Like Hunter/Prey. “What are you?” she screamed. Orb popped into her mind.
Flames licked inside the den and along the stairway banister. The orb had set the house on fire. Now it wanted her. What the hell?
It zinged toward her, and she threw the knife.
It sailed through the air faster than she thought possible, stabbing the orb.
It shuddered, vibrating so fast that she could barely discern the movements.
It disgorged the knife, which disintegrated like friggin’ dust. But it had done something.
The orb was smaller now. She needed to get the other knife.
The orb flew at her, and she ducked around the backside of the heavy foyer table. Hunter/Prey. It was all coming back. Wood crackled behind her, and smoke filled the house. Noxious fumes tickled her throat, hot and cloying, and she fought the cough burning up her throat.
Flames filled the den now, licking into the foyer as though they were testing the air.
She lunged for the other knife but the orb cut her off.
It had intelligence, all right. The knife seemed to glow, though it was probably reflecting the green sparks.
Or maybe not. Obviously it wasn’t a normal knife.
The orb circled the foyer. She could barely see it now because of the smoke and the tears in her stinging eyes. Coughing spasms wracked her body, and smoke strangled the air from her. Have to get out of here. She backed toward the door.
The orb flew behind her, sending her jerking forward.
Ruby feinted right, then ran toward the kitchen.
It beat her to the door. The kitchen was already in flames, but a clear path to the exterior door remained.
She took several steps back, facing the orb as it followed.
Pretending to head to the front door, she twisted around and slid across the floor toward the second knife.
She and Mon had played a form of paintball in his old house, which had marble floors and long hallways.
She got good at sliding on the slick surfaces.
The knife tingled again as she gripped it in her sweaty palm. She spun around, searching for the orb. Not seeing it, she ran into the kitchen. Black smoke billowed in the upper portion of the room. The orb hovered between her and the door. The damned thing was keeping her from escaping!
She crouched, but the smoke drew closer to the floor.
Soon it would fill the entire room. She readied the knife, held at her thigh and out of sight.
One shot. That’s all she had because there was no going back in the den.
Another coughing fit seized her, and she gripped the edge of the granite counter to keep her balance.
All the while, she watched the orb come closer, taking advantage of her weakened condition.
Like a sentient thing. An evil thing.
Sucking in a breath, she snapped upright and threw the knife.
Arcs of electricity danced along the blade as it plunged into the orb.
While it tried to eject the knife, she grabbed a pot from the hanging rack.
Like a baseball batter, she swung her whole body into throwing it.
She knocked the orb against the wall and dashed back into the foyer.
Sirens pierced the air. Someone had called the fire department. Thank God.
Or maybe not. Would the orb hurt the firefighters?
She couldn’t see it as she dared a glance back while racing for the door. It flew open, crashing against the wall. Two firemen stood in the opening, clad in protective gear.
“Anyone else in here?” one asked her.
“My uncle!” She pointed, and at that moment, the entire wall where he lay collapsed in flames.
The force of it jerked her backward. No, that was one of the firefighters grabbing her as they retreated onto the front porch.
She searched for the orb even as they scrambled to their feet.
One firefighter led her farther from the house.
She was a limp doll, all of her attention on the hellish nightmare come to life.
Flames shot out through gaps in the roof and every window.
If she’d still been inside, she’d be dead.
One of the men ushered her to a fire truck. A second truck pulled up, spewing men and equipment. Medics treated the small burn on her forehead and gave her oxygen, while all she could do was cough and look for the orb.
Had it purposely destroyed evidence? Yes, she was sure of it.
Orb. She’d heard that word before, in the stories Mon created for her when she was a child: a hidden world of magick, with angels and people who turned into dragons. Magick with a k at the end, spelled differently because it wasn’t the illusion type.
It’s real magick, ducky.
The sorcerer-like Deuces could make orbs, instilling an intention like spy or fry.
She started shaking with the thoughts and questions bombarding her as she watched streams of water trying to tame the flames. The sounds of pumps, men shouting instructions, and spraying water filled the air. The answers were in the envelope, and it was probably ashes by now.
The Book of the Hidden
The white dove’s alarmed coos drew Garnet to the window of her turret bedroom. “What’s the matter, Opal? ’Tis not like you to be so fitful.”
She heard the sound then, far from the usual noises of the immense forest that surrounded the castle.
Her gaze riveted upon what looked like black oil running along the ground, pouring around the trees as it advanced.
Opal flew off with a distressed warble. Garnet knew of the dark magick in the kingdom, the creatures and dangers hovering beyond the environs of her safe little world. Her parents called it the Hidden.
As it reached the edge of the forest, the “oil” materialized into soldiers, coming faster than any normal humans could.
She heard a grunt below her. One of their guardsmen fought a man bearing black horns and armor that resembled the beetles in the garden.
Those horns stretched out like snakes and plunged through the guardsman’s chest. He dropped with a gasp.
She spun from the window, intending to run to her parents’ chamber. Footsteps pounded down the stone floor outside her room, and the door flung open. Her father was still in his dressing robe, terror on his face. “I have inadvertently brought great peril to our land. You must hide, must—”
A clawed hand reached out and pulled him out of sight. “Leave her be!” her father’s voice echoed in the great hallway.
She ran to the doorway to help him but came up short as the kind of man-beasts she’d just watched below rushed up to block her. They bore blood on their armor, and she knew, somehow, that it was her parents’. And, by the glitter in the men’s eyes, she also knew her blood would soon join it.
A scraping sound from the window behind her drew the startled gazes of the men. She dared turn to see what frightened them, these evil murderers. The sight of the creature sliding soundlessly to the floor on its clawed feet stole her breath.
A black Dragon, the size of a large horse, opened its fierce mouth and bared its fangs. It blew out not fire, as she’d read in the legends, but a black smoke that shot toward her. She would die with dignity, she thought, raising her chin. She would not cower, would not—
The stream of smoke passed her, knocking the three men back into the hallway. Their guttural screams echoed in the stone hallway and then grew silent.
The Dragon had saved her from them. Before she could thank it, it rushed forward and grabbed her with its talons. They scratched but did not puncture her skin as the beast pulled her against the cool scales of its chest and flew out the window.
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