“Looks like my case just re-opened,” Christina said. “Your colleague said you’re in Maine? I’m coming over there.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I told her. “I have everything under control here. I’ll deal with it.”

  “I do have to,” she said. “Thanks to my incompetent assistant, my official case report says I let a changeling get away. I can’t have that on my record.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted another P.I. poking her nose into my case but I understood her need to put things right. “Okay, but things here are a little more complicated than just taking out a changeling.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Give me the details when I get there. I don’t want to step all over your case but the changeling is mine, okay? I can’t believe I let her slip through my fingers.”

  “The woman you were following turned up dead. No one can blame you for closing the case.”

  “I blame myself,” she said. “Text me your location and I’ll get a flight.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that.”

  “And don’t go killing anything until I get there.” She ended the call.

  I texted her the details of the Lake Shore Lodge and she replied with a smiley-faced emoji.

  Leon brought two mugs of coffee over to the table. “What was that all about?”

  I told him and he listened with rapt attention. When I was done, he said, “A changeling, huh? Like those creatures that tried to kill my friend James and his girlfriend?”

  “Exactly the same,” I said, recalling the case I’d been working on when Leon and I had first met. “The Cabal must have replaced the real Laura Pelletier so that the changeling version could convince Dan to send Cathy to Butterfly Heights. After seeing what Cathy could do, they wanted her to become part of the project they’re running up there.”

  Leon frowned. “So why didn’t they just replace Dan with a changeling? That sounds a lot easier to me.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “They couldn’t replace Dan because during the first month of a changeling taking on someone’s identity, it hasn’t acquired all the traits of its victim. The Cabal probably surmised that Cathy—having faerie blood—would recognize what the changeling actually was and might escape through another rift.”

  I took a sip of the coffee. Leon was right, I did need it. “By replacing Laura while she was miles away and letting the changeling gradually take over her identity in New York, the Cabal was alleviating that problem. By the time changeling-Laura returned, she’d be fully integrated into her new identity and there’d be less chance of Cathy seeing her for what she really was.”

  “That makes sense, I guess. And once Cathy was a patient at Butterfly Heights, the Cabal had no more use for Dan so he was killed.” He held up a hand, stopping me before I could reply. “No, wait a minute. That ritual in the cave, the one with the long-ass name. That puts the life essence of the victim into a jar. The blood and all that stuff. Dan is Cathy’s dad so it stands to reason that he also has the Walker of Worlds power in his genes. That’s how Cathy got it; it’s been passed down through generations, right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “The ritual allows them to make a faerie creature from the blood and guts in the jar. In the case of Dan Pelletier’s blood and guts, whatever creature they make from that will have the rift power.”

  I nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  He furrowed his brow. “But like you said, there are plenty of ways to get from one realm to another so why is this rift stuff so important to the Cabal?”

  That question was the sticking point in my understanding of what the Cabal was up to. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “So what’s our next move? Shouldn’t we just storm Butterfly Heights and rescue Cathy from the Cabal?”

  That actually wasn’t such a bad idea. Whatever operation the Cabal was running needed to be shut down. Cathy seemed to be valuable to that operation—they’d gone to a lot of trouble to get her to the Heights—and needed to be removed from there as soon as possible.

  “There’s someone else we need to rescue as well,” I told him, pointing at the drawing of Lydia Cornell sitting in a prison cell.

  “Of course. So should we find out where Merlin is hiding and get him involved?”

  “Why?”

  “Taking down the Cabal was the promise you made to the Lady of the Lake, remember? And Merlin has Excalibur, which you’re supposed to use to do the job.”

  “I don’t want to touch that sword ever again. It drains my energy and then feeds it back to me later when I’m weak. When I take down the Cabal, it will be without the sword.”

  He held up his hands. “No argument from me. You know I don’t trust Merlin. And it sounds like the sword is corrupt. Things didn’t end well for King Arthur, after all.” He sipped his coffee. “So it’s just me, you, and the P.I. from New York against the Cabal?”

  “We can’t really rely on Christina Flores,” I said. “She’s only coming here for the changeling. We’re gonna need more help,” I said. “Society protocol states that if a P.I. discovers an enemy enclave, then its location has to be reported to the Shadow Watch.”

  “Ugh! Fuck those guys.”

  “Yeah, and the protocol was written a long time ago, before the Society was infiltrated by Cabal spies. If we report this, someone will probably warn the Cabal that we’re coming.”

  He nodded. “So who do we trust? I can get Michael involved.”

  “Of course.”

  “The Blackwell sisters? They’re pretty handy in a fight.”

  “We can ask them.”

  “What about Mallory and Tia? I’m sure the sorceress has some tricks up her sleeve and Mallory is a good fighter. Hell, she cut off Rekhmire’s arm.”

  So we had ourselves plus five—possibly six if Christina decided to join—other people to take on two Cabal strongholds. The people on our team were strong but there was no way the numbers worked in our favor. There could be hundreds, or even thousands, of Cabal members. Gloria had said the organization was using Faerie to prepare for war against the Society so I had to assume that the castle where Lydia was being held was full of enemy soldiers.

  Maybe I had no choice but to get the Shadow Watch involved, even though to do so was risky. There just didn’t seem to be any other option.

  “You know what’s sad?” Leon said.

  “What?”

  “The list of team members is severely lacking without Felicity on it.”

  “Yeah, I know. Maybe I should call Michael Chester and see if he’s unearthed anything regarding her whereabouts.”

  He nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  I called the Society headquarters in London and told the switchboard operator I wanted to speak to Michael Chester. After the call was put through, Michael answered his phone quickly. “Hello.” He didn’t say my name, although he would know it was me thanks to the magical caller ID system at headquarters.

  “Michael, it’s Alec,” I said redundantly. “I was just wondering if you’ve found anything about—”

  “Yes,” he said, cutting me off. “Yes, I have. I can’t discuss that matter over the phone right now.” His voice sounded odd, as if someone might be standing in the room with him.

  “Oh,” I said. “So will you call me back when it’s more convenient?”

  “No, no, I can’t do that. You’re going to have to give me a location.”

  “You want to speak face to face?”

  “It’s the only way I’m afraid.”

  I hesitated. My last encounter with members of the Society had involved me being interrogated with a Collar of Truth around my neck. How did I know Michael wasn’t going to turn up here with a truckload of agents who wanted to question me further about the Melandra Codex? The last thing I needed right now was for them to complicate matters.

  “Alec, I know where you live and work so there shouldn’t be any issue with simply telling me where you are,” he said in my ear in a tone so low that it was almost a whisper. Then he added, “This is important. I have news regarding two people very close to you.”

  One of those people must be Felicity but who was the second? Oh yeah, my father. I gave Michael the location of the Greenville Mall. I had no reason to lead him right to my front door.

  His voice lowered even further. “Be there in thirty minutes.”

  “I will,” I said as I ended the call.

  “Trouble?” Leon asked.

  “Maybe. We’re going to meet Michael Chester at the mall. He says he has information regarding Felicity and possibly my dad.”

  “Your dad? He’s been missing a while.”

  I shrugged. “It sounds like Michael found him.”

  “Okay,” he said, finishing his coffee. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  It took us twenty minutes to get to the mall and by the time we arrived, the rain had started to come down again. At the moment, it was little more than an insidious drizzle but the dark clouds that were rolling in from the north threatened to increase that drizzle to a downpour.

  I parked the Land Rover in a space that was some distance from any other cars. If something went down here, I didn’t want a member of the public wandering into the middle of it.

  We got out and selected a sword and dagger each from the trunk before getting back into the vehicle. I had no reason to believe Michael was going to appear with hostile forces but I also had no reason to disbelieve it either. The man had been my father’s secretary and that should count for something, I supposed, but my dad had been missing awhile now and seemed to have abandoned the Society completely. So Michael’s association with him didn’t really stand him in good stead.

  “How is he going to get here from London in half an hour?” Leon mused as he watched the rain fall over the parking lot.

  “Some sort of portal, I guess. See, that’s what I mean about portals; there are hundreds of different magic items that open them so why is a Walker of Worlds so important to the Cabal? We’ve established it isn’t just for her faerie genes. They want her to be able to use her power. Why?” Not knowing the answer to that question was frustrating.

  “Don’t ask me,” he said, “I’m just the IT guy.” He grinned at me.

  Before I could reply, a sound like thunder sounded across the parking lot and the air there flashed for a split second, like a camera flash but a thousand time brighter. “I think he’s here,” I said to Leon as I tried to blink away the bright spots that had appeared in my vision.

  A man I assumed to be Michael Chester was standing in the parking lot where the air had torn open. He was a short man with a balding head, drooping mustache, and wire-framed glasses. He wore a light blue dress shirt, black trousers, and a tan sports jacket. He adjusted the glasses with one hand and looked around the parking lot desperately.

  I opened my door and got out, waving to him.

  He spotted me and ran in the direction of the Land Rover.

  “Why is he running?” Leon asked.

  “I don’t know but it probably isn’t good.”

  Michael was waving me back inside the car. “Start the engine!” he shouted. “They followed me!”

  The air behind him burst into a series of flashes, as if a hundred photographers had just spotted a famous star on the red carpet. At least a dozen figures appeared in the parking lot, dressed in black and armed with glowing blue enchanted swords.

  I got behind the wheel and started the Land Rover before flooring the gas and speeding through the parking lot toward Michael.

  When I reached him, I hit the brakes and shouted, “Get in!”

  The Land Rover skidded to a stop. Michael wrenched open the rear door and threw himself into the vehicle. I spun the steering wheel and hit the gas again, sending us rocketing toward the exit.

  Leon had turned in his seat and was watching our pursuers through the rear window. “They’re getting cars,” he said.

  I nodded grimly. In the rearview mirror, I could see the dozen or so figures split into pairs and approach various parked cars in the lot. As they got close to a car, its doors opened and its engine started. They had some sort of car-jacking magical item I’d never seen before.

  Michael was sitting up in the back seat now, panting like crazy.

  “What’s happening?” I asked him as six cars peeled away from their parking spaces and chased after us.

  “I found out about their operation to capture your father and now they’re trying to kill me,” he said.

  “Operation? What operation?”

  “Operation Prophecy,” he said. “Get us out of here and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  15

  The rain had become a downpour now as we sped north along the highway, with six cars in pursuit. The highway was busy and as we weaved around the traffic, I realized that if we stayed on this road, the likelihood of a crash was high, especially in this weather. I needed to get us off the highway and somewhere more remote to protect the innocent drivers on this road.

  Up ahead, I saw a turn off that led away from the highway and through farmland. When I reached it, I hit the brakes momentarily and spun the wheel. The Land Rover fishtailed for a split second and then we were on the narrower road that led through the fields.

  “What’s our plan?” Leon asked me from the passenger seat.

  “If you have one, I’d like to hear it.”

  “I don’t but we can’t keep running forever. We’ll run out of gas or they’ll catch up with us eventually.”

  He was right. At some point, we were going to have to stand and fight.

  “And now the police are on our tail,” Leon added, pointing back at the highway where a patrol car was racing toward the rear of the pack of cars behind us, lights flashing and siren blaring.

  Our pursuers weren’t about to stop and get a ticket; they seemed oblivious to the patrol car and focused only on catching up with us.

  “Michael, can you handle a sword?” I asked the man in the backseat.

  He looked nervous at the suggestion. “Well, I took an hour of mandatory training once but my job doesn’t really demand physical prowess.”

  “I’ll take that as a no.” I looked at Leon. “Looks like it’s me and you against twelve of them.”

  He nodded solemnly. “I don’t like those odds.”

  “Maybe I can find a place where we can use the terrain or a building to our advantage. Taking them all on at once probably won’t end well but if we can negate the advantage their superior numbers give them, we might have a chance.”

  “We may not have a choice,” Michael said, pointing through the back window.

  The passenger in the car directly behind us—a white Toyota—was hanging out of his window and pointing something at us. The item in his hand looked like a wand made of white stone.

  “You’re going to want to get out of the way of that,” Michael advised.

  I jerked the wheel to the right and the Land Rover responded by taking us off the road and crashing through a wooden fence into a cornfield. As we cut through the crop, stalks and leaves smashed against the vehicle.

  The section of the road we’d just left exploded with blue light as the wand-like item discharged. The road had become a dangerous place thanks to the wand wielder but I couldn’t stay in the cornfield forever because the plants were slowing us down. Our pursuers were still on the road, parallel with us now, the patrol car doggedly following them with its lights flashing.

  The guy with the wand took aim at us.

  I had no way to avoid the blast that was about to come shooting in our direction. I couldn’t outrun it either because of the thick corn stalks slapping against the Land Rover and getting under the wheels.

  “Brace yourselves,” I said.

  The blast from the wand was silent but the air around the Land Rover flashed with a blue so vivid and bright that I thought I might be blinded by it. As well as the light, there was some sort of force that rushed under the vehicle and sent it—along with corn stalks, leaves, and husks—hurtling into the blue-tinged air.

  The vehicle flipped over twice and I felt my stomach lurch as the world beyond the windshield spun crazily. When we finally hit the ground, I felt a jolt slam through every bone in my body. The airbags deployed just as my head was thrown forward, cushioning my skull and preventing it from being smashed on the dashboard and my brains becoming corn chowder.

  The Land Rover came to a stop on its roof, still spinning slightly as I fumbled for my seatbelt. “Is everyone okay?” I asked. My voice sounded distant and muffled, as if it didn’t belong to me at all.

  “Yeah,” Leon said. He didn’t sound okay; his voice sounded distant and muffled too.

  “Michael?” I asked. My seatbelt disengaged and I fell to the floor, which was actually the roof.

  “I’ll live, I think,” he said groggily.

  “We have to get out of here,” I said. “They’ll be coming. Where are the swords?” Miraculously, we’d been in a spinning vehicle with two swords and daggers and no one had been killed. Equally miraculously, my door opened when I pulled on the handle. The miracles ended there, though, because I had no idea where the swords and daggers had gone. I was about to face a dozen enemies with my bare hands.

  There was my magic, of course, but my head felt so muddled that I couldn’t bring any of the magic circles into my mind’s eye and without them I couldn’t do anything.

  Using the upturned Land Rover as a balance aid, I managed to get my feet and stand unsteadily in the circular clearing the wand blast had created in the cornfield. The ground was slick and wet and more rain hissed down all around me, splashing against the rows of corn and the underside of the Land Rover.

  The enemies were coming. Their cars were on the road, doors open, with no occupants. Everyone was making his or her way through the corn to this location. The patrol car had also stopped and its lights were still flashing but the siren, thankfully, had been turned off. The officer had vacated the vehicle. He was a hell of an optimist if he was following those guys through the corn, thinking he was going to serve tickets to the drivers of the vehicles. I just prayed he didn’t get hurt.

 

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