Chapter 4
untraceable
The next morning,
As more cars began to arrive at the site, two of the witches started paying more attention. Invited at the behest of a mysterious donor, the assembled cast represented a certain level of Dark magic royalty.
Two mages, one with silver eyebrows and another with a permanently dour look on his face, climbed out of a cheap rental car while two vans pulled up, disgorging a handful of sober-looking, broad-chested men, clearly enforcers. They stood off to the side as the witches and sorcerers gathered. There was little conversation until a black Audi coupe rounded the front gate of the abandoned observatory.
“That explains the cash,” Mira said softly, then saw Max exit the car. Selka leaned in, “Untraceable.”
Known for his increasingly flamboyant style, the exuberant sorcerer seemed subdued, almost solemn, as he approached the enforcers. With a few words and an encouraging slap to one of the men’s shoulders, he passed by, headed to the front steps of the old mountain top facility. Not unusual in itself, but the witches saw one of the men slip a bandolier over his head. Instead of bullets or shotgun shells, the strap was filled with silver ward markers, the first indicator that this wasn’t going to be a conventional outing.
“Uh-oh,” Sleka murmured, “we’re into something big here.” The other witch had also noticed, “Yeah, and Max doesn’t take kindly to refunds. Time to smile, and I’m guessing we won’t be getting naked.”
Having gained a reputation in the Dark community for extremes, Max would throw lavish parties one night, then take his pick of his guests for an overnight romp. If one could please his increasingly fragile ego, one could move ahead in the organization. Cross him, however, shrink from his increasingly bizarre sexual requests, and one might disappear.
“You certainly passed,” Sleka smirked to another, “Thank you…for last night.”
“You’re welcome,” the other grinned, breaking the serious mood in the former parking lot, “Nolan can be fun, in a hydraulic kind of way,” she said, then turned away, lowering her voice, “but even he gets a little unusual some nights. I don’t remember the last time I cuddled with anyone.”
A brow arched, “Hydraulic is an interesting way to put it. Reminded me of Max in a way. Not a lot of conversation, and I started wondering if he even saw me.”
“Max and that faraway look of his…he called out a name once. Wasn’t mine.” The witch gasped as one of the enforcers took a metal sorcerer’s staff from a padded case, “and now heavy weapons. I’m feeling expendable.”
Another car pulled up to drop off a third witch, who recognized the other two. After a chuckle, she walked across the parking lot. “I’m detecting a theme,” Nessa snickered, grabbing a handful of her locks. “We’ve all left Max’s place in the morning with a parking voucher. This place looks a little run-down if this is going to be an orgy.”
Mira leaned in, “If his mother shows up, it wouldn’t surprise me if it did.”
“I think I’d feel relieved,” Nessa added, “I’ve heard she’s relentless in bed.” She pointed to the car emerging from the wooded drive, “Limo. Right on schedule.”
Finally, a fourth car, a limousine, entered the lot, carefully navigating the rutted blacktop. Another woman stepped out, this time a redhead. Tall and silent.
The trio of dark-haired witches stared. “Never seen her before,” she whispered. “Maybe it’s a dye job.”
“That’s no dye job,” Mira said, hiding her comments behind her hand. “That’s Isabel. She’s from the UK, and she’s a Seer…she’s something else.”
Brows furrowed as they watched her walk up the drive. She seemed more interested in the mounds and piles of broken pavement than the other women.
“A bit remote for a spa treatment,” the new witch purred, part sarcasm, and legitimate observation. She brushed a strand of her red hair from her cheek.
Max frowned at his guest’s implication, “Isabel Rothmore,” he recovered, dramatically sweeping his arms in an awkward theatrical gesture, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You begged,” she smirked, sweeping past him, “Twice. And had someone jump through a few hoops to hand-deliver a letter sealed in wax. Charming, if unnecessary.”
A few uneasy chuckles rose from the group, and Max took them in stride, “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he offered a bit too quickly.
“Yeah, neither was I,” she smiled. Looking down at the heaved blacktop lot, Isabel could have sworn she saw a small clump of moss move. Trying to pull away from the church itself. She caught Max’s eye, “Then I saw the coordinates and the dirt under the fingernails of the poor sod who brought your invite. I do so love a good mistake.”
“Gather up,” Max shouted, circling his arm, then directed the group to the steps, “a few words of cautious encouragement, and then we’ll begin.”
“So,” he began loudly, “ we are going to do a little exploring today. You’ve been chosen for several reasons. Your individual skill sets, as well as my familiarity with you as we’ve worked together in some capacity over the last few years.”
Pointing to the heaved asphalt in the parking lot, he chuckled, “Just our luck, an old congregation chose to build on this location. You will notice the ground has become…unstable.”
Another nervous chuckle rolled through the group, then Mira voiced a thought, “Heavy vibe here, Max,” she said, glancing at the enforcers. “Like someone’s been whispering just out of earshot.”
“Indeed, Mira. Excellent observation. That is why you are here.” He bounded up the steps and turned, “In we go.”
Going up the front concrete steps, he pointed out a sagging portion of the sanctuary’s roof. “Today, with any luck, we’re not going to look up.” He paused, then acknowledged the outspoken witch, “We’re going to look in.”
Snapping his fingers, the enforcers paraded up the steps, but two of them were already lighting the first of what would become dozens of ward markers, the quietly sizzling silver stakes, fluorescing in a bright blue mist. Placing the initial markers by the entrance and then setting them every few feet would trigger a warning if anything unexpected entered the growing containment field.
The witches filed in behind the two men carrying the portable generators. All exchanged concerned looks as Max led them down a hallway away from the spacious sanctuary, then down a staircase, stopping in front of two large steel doors. One of the panels had creased, appearing to be bent from the movement of the building’s foundation.
“I’m going to request absolute quiet as we move forward.” Max smiled, his always slightly condescending smile, and they knew it was no random request. “And also, the electric power is spotty. That’s why we brought backup generators, just in case.”
Isabel ran her fingers along a crack in one of the tall pillars that lined the nave of the old church. The cement fell like powder, and Max addressed the concern before she spoke.
“It’s safe,” he said, “structurally. The reason the church was disbanded,” he chuckled, “and the monastic sect that built this place dissolved is because someone chose the site for the view. They were unaware of the geology.”
The two youngest witches caught his inflection and took a step back. “I’ve been here a couple of times,” Max said, attempting to dissuade her fears and possibly those of the others. “I can guarantee you’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Uh-oh,” one of the mages muttered overly loud, and Max heard it. His disappointment was obvious, “Seriously, Caleb. What is it?”
“Apologies, Sir,” the distinguished wizard said, trying to hide his embarrassment, “Mira’s perception is spot on as usual.”
“But?” Max asked, appearing ready to address concerns, “The plasma staffs, maybe?” He pointed to one of the metal rods being brandished by the security team.
Max dismissed the wizard’s concern, “Take a look, Caleb. I brought you here as part of a hand-picked team of observers. To poke around somewhere, with this amount of talent? Someone might have already noticed, so this is for your protection. Mine as well. What you will see…experience, cannot leave this building.”
“Were we to be attacked,” the sorcerer said softly.
“Exactly,” Max bellowed, his charm breaking momentarily, “think of the collective knowledge assembled here, the talent. You'd better be damn sure I’m going to protect you.”
His jaw clenched, Max took a moment to calm himself, but one of the young witches had noticed the assigned Seer growing more agitated by the minute. She turned to face the young witch and acknowledged the situation with a whisper, “Under all his bluster, he’s scared. This is not business as usual for him. Something’s wrong.”
“Shall we?” Max pointed, then nodded to his guards, “After you.” His eyes had grown sharp and watchful as the advance team headed through the doorway. The entourage encountered an increasingly unpleasant smell. Not exactly a death smell, more sickly sweet and getting stronger.
“Remember this moment,” Max said quietly, “the moment the reality of our world introduced itself to legends.” He nodded, and the generators were fired up in the hallway. As a tolerable amount of noise filled the hall, Caleb stepped forward and cloaked both machines with a protection screen, returning the chamber to a whisper of background noise. With two of the guards holding work-light tripods, they were ready.
Carefully negotiating past a pile of broken concrete from the collapsed foundation wall, a cavernous hollow opened as if the building had been crushed against a moving force. The team members filled in, looking at something along another pile of rubble. Spreading out, it was Isabel who came to a dead stop. Her head turned to Max, mouth working, but his hand stayed her speech, “Patience, yes,” he said softly, “as you suspect.”
The light from the existing overhead fluorescents was weak, and Max ordered the work lights to be used. As they powered up, the group saw that the cracks in the stone and cement had spiderwebbed across the floor and up the walls, resembling frostbite. In the rear corner, the wall bulged like a scream halfway through stone.
After a moment, Max moved closer; behind him came the mercenaries, silent, armed with their staffs and charm-etched blades. Beside them came the witches, with Isabel following just behind the trio.
The three were Max’s, with soft, nervous smiles and sultry power. They had been drawn to Max’s growing reputation like moths circling his flame. They stood close to him, familiar and obedient. Isabel hung back, taking up a position away from the other women. She was watching Max, but her eyes kept returning toward an opening in the concrete wall. Her sable coat still closed, her hand wrapped in prayer beads not meant for any church.
She said nothing that could be heard, but she was already murmuring, fingers twitching like they were pulling at threads only she could see. One of the guards edged closer to her. His jaw was tight, his glance at her betraying his fear, and he wanted to be close, just in case.
With a long breath, Max walked into the room, and suddenly, the basement cavern breathed as well.
The Veil. The barrier between realms.
Before them, something glistened where the foundation had split, not stone or anything natural. A shimmer, alive and twitching, stretched out from the opening like an exposed nerve. It pulsed, slow and wet, the size of a man’s torso. Veins of light snaked through it in rapid flashes, like thought made into flesh. The longer they stared at it, the more the walls around them seemed to recede.
The Veil wasn’t in the room; it was pressing through, an embolism ready to burst into the world.