Darien turned a three-inch photo over in his almost-clean fingers. A quick wash had been all he’d managed in the council building’s luxury bathrooms. Wish we’d had time for that shower. Together. He’d kind of loved hearing his serious necromancer suggesting ducking out for a quickie.
He reread the name on the back of the picture. “Ross McInnes - necromancer.” He set it face-up beside the other two on the side table in Locke’s office. Three suspects— McInnes, a female sorcerer identified as Miss Arliss, and the journal editor Toberman— stared up at him with the bland look of formal portraits. McInnes was blond with winged eyebrows, Toberman dark with a crooked nose, and Miss Arliss looked like a prim matron in her fifties.
You’d never guess they were kidnappers, torturers, murderers. Seattle’s council had sent the photos and identifying information on their missing trio. These three people had darted, drugged, and abducted him and Jasper, had planned to use their magic to retrieve the ancient book full of demon spells, and no doubt would’ve killed them when they stopped being useful. Darien still woke from nightmares where iron manacles bound his wrists and locked his power away while a demon whispered in his ear.
He flicked each photo, surprised to find himself feeling almost detached now. They shot Pip. That reminder was enough to cut through any fatigue and make his anger flare.
Healer Snow leaned past him to lift Toberman’s photo and tilt it in the light. “This one, I believe,” she said to everyone in the room.
The background chatter Darien had been ignoring stopped. Silas and Jasper jumped up from where they’d been gathered around Locke’s desk and strode over. Silas took the photo from her and checked the name on the back. “Are you sure this is the man in the morgue?”
“As sure as I can be, given that he didn’t have much face left.” Snow tapped the image. “That nose is distinctive, though, and it was definitely not Morrison.”
Jasper took the picture in turn. “Toberman. What a shame. He had a brilliant mind. Although if he was here, that does definitively tie the Seattle group to the portal group.”
“I’m just as glad not to have two collections of enemies,” Silas said.
“But what was he doing here?” Darien asked. A chill ran down his spine, as if someone was watching him.
“Interesting question.” Jasper laid the photo on Locke’s desk. “He was summoning and hoarding demons, obviously, but why, and why here? When did he arrive? Before we were kidnapped or after?”
Silas paced to the window and back. “Was Morrison one of them and Toberman just visiting? Did he kill Morrison and take over the gate, or did he create it? Which still begs the question of why set up a portal in Coilingbroke, of all places? We’re a magical backwater. Why not New York or Chicago?”
Tanner leaned a hip on the sideboard near the telephone he’d been wielding. “I’ve asked each sorcerer I called to be on the lookout for damage, explosions, dead or missing sorcerers, and to expand the search to their nearby regions. So far, no one has heard—” He was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone.
Locke pushed his chair away from the desk, reached over, and snagged the receiver off the cradle. “Locke of Councilrock… Ah, yes, one moment.” He held the phone up to Tanner. “For you.”
The Chicago sorcerer took the receiver. “Tanner. Go ahead.”
Darien watched emotions cross Tanner’s face, first anger and then something that looked like satisfaction.
“Thank you. Hang on a moment.” Tanner put a hand over the mouthpiece and pushed upright. “This is the council in Atlanta, Georgia. In a suburb a few miles outside the city proper, they found a burned-out home and report of a dead body. They aren’t sure yet if the body was the homeowner, a sorcerer named Millrun, but in a locked closet they found seven strange magical artifacts which sound like demon bottles, already filled. They’re asking if we know what they are and how to deal with them.”
Silas went to him. “Let me talk to them.” Darien listened as Silas explained to the sorcerer on the other end what demon bottles were, to look for ghosts, and how their necromancer could break them and banish the demons. Eventually he said, “That’s right. Good luck,” and passed the phone back to Tanner.
Tanner told the sorcerer on the other end, “Make sure you get all his books and papers, anything that isn’t burned. We don’t want their techniques being spread around… Uh huh… Yeah, I guess it’s futile in that case. Keep in touch.” He hung up. “They said demon fire scorched the whole place, except for one wall, and then the local firefighters soaked it. Anything paper is unreadable.”
“Just as well,” Locke said. “Too many people know too much already.”
“True. They say Millrun was a very capable sorcerer, and they’re shocked to discover he went dark.”
Silas frowned. “Unless he was also controlled, or killed and used for one of the bottles, by someone even more powerful.”
Darien bit his lip. If people had to die from what I did, I sure as hell hope they were the bastards who built the portals.
Jasper said, “A body found in the middle of the destruction is most likely the portal-builder, or someone aware of the gate, anyhow. Worth suggesting they check for ghosts, given the bottles there. Perhaps their necromancer can get more answers.”
“True,” Locke agreed. “Either way, that gate and all information about it is gone. So that’s two sources dealt with.” His glance at Darien seemed almost approving. “Perhaps your actions in cutting the portals will be sufficient to end the threat.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” Grim’s tone echoed hollowly. “No, I wouldn’t trust in that at all.” His words rang in a pocket of silence.
Darien flinched. Shit.
Xsing said, “Was that a Foresight? I’ve never seen that particular Talent in action. Do you get an image, or some kind of verbal information?”
Grim’s ears flattened and he flicked his tail, saying in a normal voice, “Maybe I just like to sound important.”
Silas said quickly, “The chance that we took out all of the opposition with gate backlash was always a long shot. We have to be delighted it worked on any of them.”
Delighted. That was one way of putting it. Darien was relieved some of the enemy were gone, but once again, he’d killed people without even meaning to. He’d fried that guy in Atlanta, and burned Toberman to death, apparently, to the point where he was almost unrecognizable. Was that okay, since they were trafficking in demons? Was being a sorcerer going to require Darien be an executioner over and over? For Silas, it had meant that, once or twice a year for ten long years. No wonder he was such a hermit when I met him.
He eyed the men around the room. Locke, Ferngold, and Worthington had fought in the war, twenty years ago, using their power against the enemy. Tanner looked old enough too. Jasper wasn’t, but the portal destruction had been shaped out of Jasper’s power and that left him in the same guilty boat as Darien. Killers, every one of us.
I was going to be an engineer, and not hurt anyone unless my bridges fell down.
Silas caught his eye, and the dark, sardonic gaze Silas aimed at other people softened and warmed, looking at him.
And that, right there, is why all this is worth it. Saving the Earth be damned, I’d do it just to save Silas.
Xsing suggested, “Perhaps it’s time for me to try to map out those power signatures from the gates? I might be able to give directions to the search.”
Locke raised an eyebrow. “You?”
Silas immediately explained, “He finds power, if you recall. We’d be very grateful, Professor. What do you need?”
“A large, clear, white surface.” Xsing pushed up on his haunches and wrinkled his nose. “A floor, by preference, since I’m stuck in this form. And if there’s a writing tool that produces clearer lines than chalk and isn’t so easy to damage? Fuzzy and smeared runes are not desirable for this work.”
“Those new magic markers might be ideal,” Tanner suggested. “I’ve been experimenting with them. I have some in my bags.”
“Lunch would also be ideal,” Healer Snow put in. “Everyone in this room is low on energy and high on stress. I strongly recommend a break, some food, maybe even a nap, before attempting new and complex magic.”
Lunch sounded good. A nap sounded even better. With Silas. In our bed. “I vote for that plan,” Darien blurted out, in the face of Locke beginning to shake his head. “Plus, it gives the other councils more time to hunt for gate backlash. If Xs— the Professor— knows how many have already been found, that has to make the search easier, right?”
“Any additional data is useful, of course,” Xsing said.
“Then we’re decided.” Silas stretched and turned to the door. “Shall we say four o’clock to reconvene?”
Ferngold said, “I think five would be better. I have several colleagues I’ve not yet reached out to on this topic. I expect several hours on the phone are in my immediate future.”
How exhausting. Darien didn’t say it, didn’t even let his eyes roll, but he caught Silas’s gaze and saw the corner of his necromancer’s lip twitch.
“Five it is,” Silas agreed.
They drove back to the mansion with Jasper and the familiars, none of them making conversation, though Xsing occasionally asked for explanation of a signboard or truck logo. Darien wasn’t sure what was going through the others’ heads. Hell, he wasn’t sure what was going through his own head. Healer Snow was right about their need for food.
Once home, he and Silas worked together preparing lunch. Silas unearthed a container of soup from the freezer and chipped it out into a saucepan while Darien sliced the last of the week-old loaf of bread, toasted it, and slathered it with butter. The soup began to heat and the smell of toast warmed the air. Darien accidentally bumped against Silas when they both turned to the sink. Silas grinned, stepped back, and gestured broadly for Darien to go first.
The look in Silas’s eyes, the width of his smile, the almost-clowning gesture, made Darien think back to the somber, brooding man he’d encountered on the doorstep of this house just a few months ago. He’s different since he met me, happier, I think, lighter at heart. Maybe Darien wasn’t the perfect match for someone like Silas, but no one else among all those learned and powerful and established sorcerers could induce Silas Thornwood to act silly and like it.
He returned the grin and put the two most butter-sopping pieces of toast on Silas’s plate.
They ate ravenously, Pip wolfing down a whole can of his food, Grim combining tuna with bits of beef fished from the soup and a bite of toast that was mostly butter. Xsing tried a bit of everything, handling it and sniffing it before putting it in his mouth.
“This is an interesting body form,” he said eventually. “It seems to find everything edible. Not just edible, but delicious. I’ve never sensed anything like it.”
“Isn’t it great?” Pip’s tail thumped the cabinets. “Earth forms have amazing senses, and taste and smell are the best. Wait till we have bacon. You won’t believe how good it is.”
“Hmm.” Xsing ignored the small spoon beside his cup of soup and reached in, fished out a piece of onion, and sucked on it, his eyes drooping luxuriously half-closed. “If more people knew how tasty the human world is, the Voyagers’ Institute would be overrun with candidates.”
“It’s not all bacon and tuna,” Grim muttered. “Sometimes it’s ‘Let’s go track down a demon in the snow, Grim. It’ll be fine, Grim.’”
Silas chuckled. “We’ve made it so far.”
“So far being the operative words.” Grim daintily licked the last traces of food off his plate and sat, tail tip twitching. “Since my work today hasn’t been too demanding, I think a patrol of the house is in order while the humans rest. Pip, are you with me?”
Pip cast a quick glance at Darien, then said, “Yes, Grim.”
“My wards are back up,” Silas pointed out. “I’d know if anything had gotten in.”
“Like you knew about the portal—” Grim cut his words short, ducked his head, and gave his shoulder a fast lick.
Darien figured that was the cat version of having gone too far, but Silas didn’t sound upset as he said, “I’m pretty sure Coldwell and Norlington didn’t build two portals in our basement.”
“That’s extremely unlikely,” Xsing agreed, apparently oblivious to the subtext. “We saw only one non-fireworld portal on my power mapping and it vanished after we cut it. There was no second one.”
“Of course not.” Grim stretched and jumped to a chair, then halfway across the room to the door. “Come, Pip.” He was gone with a flick of his furry tail, and Pip scampered after him.
“I’m going to power up my rune structure downstairs before we nap,” Silas said.
Darien was pretty interested in getting to that nap, or at least to the bed, but he could understand Silas wanting all his defenses in place, so he said, “Yep, get that demon-magic detector working, so we can all sleep easy in our beds.” With a lip lick and just enough emphasis on sleep to get him a dark look from Silas. He replied with a fake-innocent smile— sleep isn’t why I want you in a bed— although he might be writing a check his dick couldn’t cash without getting some shut-eye first. Damn, I’m tired.
Silas whirled and strode out, the covert tug he gave his slacks as he left making Darien grin to himself. Jasper scooped up Xsing, and they all followed Silas down to his map room. Xsing was immediately fascinated by the intricate rune pattern laid out on the floor, but when Jasper would’ve set him on the floor, he said, “I’m not yet stable, and I have no wish to cause damage. Jasper, show me. That section there is intriguing.” He pointed an imperious black paw. “Carry me there and lean down so I can see it.”
Jasper did so, moving carefully through the working as Xsing demanded Silas explain one part and then another. Silas followed patiently, naming runes and their uses.
Eventually, Jasper said, “There are many books about the human rune system in Silas’s library. I’d be delighted to go through them with you.”
Xsing clapped his paws together. “Yes! So much to discover. This is a most excellent adventure.”
“But perhaps you’ll allow me to carry you out of the work space now so Silas can power up his spell?”
“Yes, yes. I wish to see Silas animate this construct and then we can inspect some of the books before it’s my turn to dazzle the human council with my work.”
Silas murmured, “I look forward to being dazzled.”
Once Jasper was clear, Xsing waved a black paw at Silas. “Do go ahead.”
Darien watched Silas perform one last inspection. Perhaps he should’ve been listening to all the explanations and trying to learn every detail of this spell, but he’d been watching Silas move and bend, admiring the length of his legs and curve of his ass, the clean line of his spine, barely hinted at beneath his shirt, even the bones and sinews of his hands. Jesus, I’m gone on him.
Silas gave a firm nod, stood looking down at his runes, and raised a hand. Cool green power flowed from his fingers, washing through the spellwork smoothly, like water flooding well-worn rock channels. Darien felt his own magic rise slightly from his core, pulled by Silas’s, ready to help. He doesn’t need me for this. The map formed, rose, solidified, in a shimmering clarity that Silas gave one long sweeping look, and one more nod. “Done. No demon-sign.”
“This is very similar to my talents,” Xsing said. “Although tuned only to the fireworlds. With a little practice, I could probably duplicate it.”
“Don’t tell the council that,” Silas suggested. “They’d want you to build one in the council hall and maintain it for them.”
“I must conserve my energy for more vital endeavors.”
“Like finding the rest of the demon-summoners,” Darien suggested.
“Yes. Precisely.”
Silas yawned, jaw-crackingly wide. Darien went and nudged him. “I prescribe naps for all of us first.”
Xsing said, “I’d prefer to spend the time investigating human magical practices. I wonder if our familiar translation spell works on the written word.”
“I’ll show you the library.” Jasper rubbed his eyes. “I could try to help you sort through the volumes, if you tell me what you need.”
“Nonsense.” The word was harsh, but Darien heard something softer in Xsing’s tone. “You need rest after that piece of impressive conjuring in the burned house. I will manage.”
They made their way up to the ground floor. Jasper and Xsing turned toward the library. Darien trudged up the second flight of stairs behind Silas. That ass was still worth following, even if his tiredness made his appreciation more theoretical right now. For all his earlier teasing, fatigue was descending on Darien like a lead weight.
In the bedroom, their conversation consisted of “Shower? and “Later,” “Bed?” and “Yep,” “Clothes?” and “Who cares?” They both kicked off shoes, pulled the good quilt down to keep it clean, and crawled under the sheets fully dressed.
Silas pulled Darien close, spooning him from behind. Darien settled in with only one wiggle of his ass against Silas’s uninterested dick. Silas huffed. “You wish. Hell, I wish. Sleep first.”
“Should we set an alarm?”
“I’m sure Grim will wake us.”
“Oh. Of course.” By jumping on their heads, no doubt.
He was exhausted, but sleep hovered out of reach. He wanted to ask Silas how deeply he regretted the human hosts he had to kill when banishing demons. Whether he ever imagined their bodies burning to ash in demonfire and felt like a murderer. But if he was going to ask Silas to bare his soul, they both needed to be awake for that conversation. Instead, he pulled Silas’s grip tighter around him and sighed.
Just being horizontal was a win, even with the acrid hint of smoke lingering on his skin. He sank into the mattress. Everything he’d done, and lived through, was worth it to be held close in Silas’s arms. But we’re not done yet. He shoved that thought out of his brain and focused on trying to get some rest.
***
Silas eyed the white vinyl flooring spread out on the council chamber floor. Some minions had clearly been sent to buy it and pin down the edges with a ring of concrete blocks. Ferngold looked pained at the effect of plastic over his precious carpets, so Silas decided to be enthusiastic. “Looks very serviceable, don’t you think, Professor?”
Xsing eyed the white expanse. “Yes. Workable. We have the marking devices?”
Tanner pulled out a flat box and tapped a marker into his hand. “Any particular color?”
Silas reminded himself Xsing’s head tilt and sniff weren’t meant to be cute. Inside that chubby raccoon is perhaps the most powerful familiar ever to cross worlds.
“Black will suffice.” Xsing held out an imperious paw and said to Jasper, “Set me down.”
“This marker can still smudge,” Tanner said. “I have cleaner if we need corrections.”
Xsing sat carefully on the edge of the open space, marker poised. “We have two more sources to locate, correct?”
“Yes.” Locke glanced at Silas. “Assuming the original total of five was accurate. Minus our local case, the Atlanta destruction, and the new one New York reported back to Ferngold.”
The New York necromancer was apparently in a coma, all his power sucked or blasted out of him, as near as their Healer could tell, and was not expected to live. His brownstone had suffered fire damage, but not collapsed. The local council had retrieved eleven occupied demon bottles. They were working through the banishment process. A photo of him was coming their way by mail, but the description didn’t sound like McInnes. Silas confirmed, “We cut through five hellworld portals and saw no others.”
Xsing shook the marker. “How does one activate this device?”
Jasper reached down and took off the cap.
Xsing’s nose twitched violently and he sneezed. “Feh! What a foul odor!”
“I do have chalks,” Ferngold offered.
“Precision is essential.” Xsing touched the tip of the marker to the flooring and nodded. “I will endure the odor.”
A tiny chatter from Ferngold’s pocket marked his gecko-familiar’s response. Clicks popped his head out and flickered his tongue. “We all will suffer.”
Grim muttered, “Sorry our survival offends your delicate tongue.”
Xsing waved a paw. “Enough. I must concentrate. I created a construct of the Earth in my display back Home, with its myriad of power loci. I will recreate that construct, and then attempt to locate the portal-builders’ signatures upon it. Silence now.”
The raccoon began marking a series of unfamiliar runes on the edge of the floor, scooting backwards and side to side on his butt to connect his structure. Apparently silence only applied to spectators, since he muttered to himself over the squeak of the marker tip on the vinyl. Silas couldn’t make out more than the occasional word— “resonance… flavor… bigger… seeking, yes, yes.” Everyone else held still and quiet. No matter how odd the sorcerer, it was never a good idea to interrupt a complex working.
Xsing was halfway across the floor, his runes a tangle of symbology with a few English words mixed in, before he paused. “That should be the first part.” He extended a paw and a trace of red power ran through the runes. Slowly, a translucent globe took shape, perhaps six feet across, rising from the floor. Its surface flowed with colors, every shade of the rainbow, amid areas of darkness. As it solidified, the colors showed clusters and gaps.
Locke leaned closer to peer at it. “Are those dark areas oceans?”
“No doubt.” Xsing’s voice held a new tension. “Unless your aquatic creatures have their own sorcerers, the oceans would be bereft of power.”
“I can’t pick out the continents from each other, though.” Ferngold sniffed. “What good is a map that can’t be read?”
“Perhaps someone else has clearer vision,” Grim said acidly.
Darien pointed. “That looks like North and South America. See the narrow connection between the two clumps.” He hesitated, then asked Xsing, “Would you like a power boost? I usually give Jasper one when he creates a big construct.”
“My working does not have to be physically solid,” Xsing said. “Still, yes, a bit more power wouldn’t go amiss.”
Darien squatted, his slacks pulling tight around his curved ass and thighs— inappropriate, Thornwood. Silas pulled his attention away from Darien’s body. Sadly, they hadn’t managed any fun time in bed before Grim had woken them by jumping onto Darien’s stomach.
Darien touched the floor along the nearest rune, sending a thread of liquid gold toward Xsing. Silas saw the little raccoon raise his chin as the power arrived. Silas knew what that felt like, the warm rush of Darien’s magic flowing in, smooth and strong as a river. Xsing said, “Ah. Thank you.”
The raccoon eyed his floating globe. “Now I shall locate the two remaining portal-makers on my world map.” He sat down and marked out two new sets of runes. Silas assumed they were some kind of identifying magic from the portals they’d cut, but he couldn’t decipher anything.
Placing a paw in the center of the first set, Xsing stared at the globe. For several seconds, there was no visible change. Then, slowly, a tiny red dot began flickering on the edge of the upper clump of what Darien had speculated was North America. “Hah. The first sorcerer is located there,” he said, with excusable smugness.
“Where’s that?” Ferngold asked.
“West coast,” Tanner pointed out. “Fairly far south, so California, maybe?”
Xsing moved his paw to the other set. “The second one.” This pause was shorter, before a second red dot began to glow, much bigger and deeper than the first, pulsing with a rhythm like a heartbeat.
“Well, hell,” Darien muttered.
“Perhaps literally.” Silas eyed the new location, smack dab in the middle of the upper land mass clump. “And perhaps not too far from here.”
Tanner pointed out, “At least the sorcerers we want are both in North America. Perhaps the Professor can scale up?”
Darien said, “Professor? Can you locate us on that map? As a comparison?”
Xsing glanced at him. “Why yes. That would make logical sense.” He didn’t write more runes, just extended a paw. A tiny dot of red and gold bloomed, almost straight south from the ominous, pulsing second location.
“That one’s north of us.” Silas scanned the array of swirling colors. “Maybe a bit west. Those darker areas above us might be the Great Lakes. That would put our target somewhere north of Lake Superior, up into Canada.”
“What is Canada?” Xsing sat back on his haunches, eyeing the globe.
“The country north of us,” Locke told him.
Pip bounced. “You see, the people on Earth divide the lands up into countries, which have borders and different customs and—”
Grim bopped him lightly on the butt. “You can explain when we don’t have a complex spell draining power.” He walked over to Xsing, head cocked to look up at the big construct. “If we brought in a cardboard globe, a model of the Earth, could you fit your spell over it so we can map those locations?”
“Perhaps.”
Ferngold scoffed. “Foolishness. Where are we going to find a six-foot globe?”
Xsing flicked his ears. “I can reduce the construct dimensions. I made it large for visibility. Smaller would be easier.”
“That’s a good plan, then.” Silas had no time for Ferngold’s ego, but he managed not to sound too scathing. “Does anyone in the building have a globe?”
Locke said, “I believe there’s one in the library, though it may be an older model.”
“Should be fine unless it’s pre-ice-age,” Darien quipped. “Lakes don’t move.”
Jasper said, “I’ll get it,” into a moment of silence that felt like no one wanting to be the errand boy.
Jasper’s a good man. But not a local. Silas said, “Grim, you might need to show him the way.”
Tanner eyed Darien in the lull as they waited for the globe. “I’m impressed. You seem to be able to integrate your power with human sorcerers, human necromancers, now a familiar? That’s unprecedented.”
Also a Yyygrdiil, Silas mused, remembering Darien pulling the quicksilver magic of a seven-foot green alien into a working mix. Darien’s quick, amused glance his way made him wonder if they were thinking the same thing. Darien just said, “Thanks.”
“I wonder if you could pull in demon magic and use it without being possessed.” Tanner cocked his head.
Over Ferngold’s exclaimed, “What a vile idea!” Darien said, “Not a chance! I’ve tasted it and I’m not letting that shit within a mile of my power. Why the hell would you ask that?”
Tanner raised his hands. “Hey, easy, it was just a thought. That ability might make you a target for these demon-hungry bastards we’re tracking.”
Ulterior motives? Silas sent a tiny wisp of demon find toward Tanner with a minuscule twitch of his fingers. The runes faded at Tanner’s side without flaring to life. Tanner clearly sensed the probe though. He glanced at Silas and raised an eyebrow, but Silas wasn’t going to apologize for a very logical precaution. He folded his arms and glared at Tanner. Trust no one. He’d learned that lesson painfully, several times, from his old friend Norgaard to his mentor Coldwell. Letting his guard down was dangerous.
Except for Darien. He let his gaze skim over every well-known inch of his favorite sorcerer, from the black hair on his head to the scuffed sneakers firmly planted on the council hall floor. Darien had earned his trust, and given it in return. Even inside my head. He remembered being lost in his memories, caught in a loop of old spells and compulsions. Darien had come to find him, brought him back to himself, and guided him home. With help from Grim and Pip, of course. He smiled slightly, remembering cat toothmarks on his arm. Grim had been gleeful, later, about having gotten to bite him in a good cause, but poor Pip hadn’t liked it one bit.
Grim led Jasper back in, a two-foot globe cradled in Jasper’s arms. Jasper and Xsing conferred on the best way to set up the globe on a stool and adapt the magical construct around it. “I brought pins,” Jasper said, “Because I don’t think we can see the globe clearly through the construct.”
“I’ll need two people,” Xsing directed. “Jasper, you and Silas. Push the pins through at the same time. I believe metal penetration will cause the construct to collapse, so you will have to coordinate your timing.”
Silas took one of the push pins and waited as Xsing reconstructed his glowing map ball around the globe. After a minute, Xsing said, “I believe I have aligned the blank areas to the oceans on the globe. Can you make out the locations in question through the construct?”
Jasper peered at the two hot spots, his nose perilously close to that swirling magic. “Not clearly.”
“Pins then.” Xsing raised a paw. “On my mark.”
Silas poised his pin above the bigger red dot. On his left, Jasper hovered his above the smaller.
“Ready?” Xsing said. “Prepared? Timing, go!”
Silas stabbed his pin through the glowing spot, feeling a brief buzz of magic on his fingertips as the construct popped like a soap bubble. The globe appeared to be pressboard, not metal, as his pin stuck into the surface. He held it steady, pushing deeper, then let go.
Everyone crowded around. Locke said at Jasper’s side, “San Francisco. Or nearby.”
Ferngold said, “I have a good friend in the San Francisco council. I’ll contact him.”
“After some discussion,” Tanner put in. “Because clearly this is a conspiracy, and we need to be cautious.” He eyed Silas’s pin. “Yours, on the other hand, is in the middle of nowhere.”
Ferngold moved around to frown at Silas. “Are you sure you aimed correctly?”
“Hey.” Darien nudged a shoulder against Silas’s in silent support. “Our own portal would’ve looked the same. Councilrock is the middle of nowhere on that globe too.”
“True,” Locke agreed. “Someone might fetch a more detailed atlas.”
Jasper laughed a bit ruefully. “I’ll check the library. Again.”
He returned after a moment with a big Rand-McNally and opened it to the appropriate page. The area still looked very sparse.
“North of the Canadian border,” Locke mused. “Too far west for Thunder Bay, unless Thornwood was inaccurate. Could be Kashabowie, or Shabaqua Corners, or Cloud Ridge.”
Ferngold started to say, “Why a godforsaken wilderness—”
Tanner broke in abruptly, “Cloud Ridge, Ontario?”
“Yes.” Locke frowned. “Looks like a tiny place.”
“Do you know who retired to the remote Canadian hamlet of Cloud Ridge?” Tanner looked around the group, his eyebrows raised, then spat out, a word at a time, “The Allies’ Hammer.”
“The who?” Darien asked.
Silas wondered the same thing, but all the older sorcerers looked stunned.
Locke whistled soft and low. “Hamish McGregor. Dear lord, I hope that’s not who’s behind all this.”
“I can’t imagine it.” Tanner looked almost distressed. “How many nests of Hitler’s sorcerers did The Hammer clear out for us at the end of the war? Why would he ally with demon-seekers now?”
“Who’s Hamish McGregor?” Darien demanded, more loudly, and Silas nodded.
“A powerful sorcerer,” Tanner told them. “In the last year of the war in Europe, our mundane army was having success against the Axis forces, but on the magical front, we were stalled out against Hitler’s dark sorcerers and necromancers and their demons. They kept undermining progress for the troops, setting us back over and over. Then Hamish McGregor joined us.”
“A Canadian,” Ferngold said, with a twist of his lip as if that was somehow a flaw. “But very capable.”
“Not just powerful,” Tanner continued. “Although he was among the strongest. But devious, clever, a designer of novel spells that finally gave us some headway.”
Locke shook his head painfully. “The long-lasting portals could be his work. He always did approach magic in unique ways.”
“I still have a hard time believing it,” Tanner said. “Yes, he might’ve designed something like that. But to bring demons to Earth, after all the ones he helped us banish?”
“Perhaps he got tired of being a nobody in a little backwater,” Ferngold suggested.
“Except that was his choice.” Tanner glanced at Silas. “His nickname was The Hammer, but it should’ve been The Scalpel, if he hadn’t been named Hamish. Brilliant man. When the war was over, more than one council invited him to join them as an honored member. He refused them all and headed off to rural Canadian anonymity.”
“Still, it can hardly be coincidence the gate was there,” Locke pointed out.
“True.” Tanner looked like he’d tasted something bitter.
Another concern occurred to Silas. “Would you say he’s well-known? Respected, connected? In the sense of having contacts far and wide?”
“Yes, I imagine a lot of the older generation know him…” Tanner’s voice trailed off. “What are you thinking?”
“That someone like that, a hero, brilliant, widely known? If he’s gone bad, he’s going to have influence on a lot of the top sorcerers around. Particularly some who, like you, wouldn’t believe anything bad about him. It might explain the wide scope of this conspiracy, from west coast to east, and Georgia to Canada.”
“It might.”
“It also makes it harder to know who to trust.” Silas turned to Ferngold. “Does your San Francisco contact know Hamish?”
“Yes, no doubt, although I trust my friend implicitly.”
“But would he also trust Hamish?”
Ferngold hesitated. “Maybe.”
“I think it might be best,” Silas suggested slowly, “if we don’t call San Francisco. Because if they know we’ve found them, Hamish might figure out we can also find him, and the last thing we want is for him to move somewhere new, or to panic and rush whatever plan involves dozens of demons.”
“That makes good sense,” Tanner agreed.
“Well, if we don’t call those two local councils, what else will we do?” Ferngold raised an eyebrow.
“We go after them,” Tanner said, as if that was obvious. “Ourselves.”
Ferngold stared at him. “Us few against The Allies’ Hammer? Are you insane? I’ll have no part of that futile endeavor.” Clicks poked his head out of Ferngold’s pocket and chittered agreement.
“You can stay here and coordinate.” Tanner’s tone was emotionless, but a hint of contempt lurked in his eyes. “However, Silas is correct; we can’t call in reinforcements without risking being discovered.”
“How do we know we can even trust you?” Darien asked Tanner. “You showed up here after the fact. We haven’t seen you do anything against the demon crew. You don’t even have a familiar to vouch for you.”
“Perhaps we should all undergo a truth spell. Just a simple one,” Tanner added as both Ferngold and Locke made sounds of protest. “No need for Thornwood, Green, and Jones, since they cut the portals and clearly took out half the enemy forces. But any of the three of us could be fifth columnists secretly in league with Hamish and the demon-handlers.”
“I won’t stand for that insult!” Ferngold blustered.
“Oh, come. Common sense. I’ll go first,” Tanner offered. “We’ll ask one question. ‘Are you in any way involved with, assisting, or planning to assist, the sorcerers bringing demons to our world?’ Answer will be yes or no. Simple. Not too intrusive.”
“I agree,” Locke said. “I’ll go second, and trust you, Ferngold, to perform the spell.”
From Ferngold’s pocket, Clicks the gecko said, “It’s an insulting but reasonable precaution.”
“All right,” Ferngold agreed. “Locke, I will accept that from you.”
Silas held his breath as Locke scribbled a simple chalk circle on a clear area of the flooring, restrained Tanner, and asked the question. Tanner’s resounding, “No,” was more relief than Silas had expected. A tension he hadn’t noticed eased from his shoulders, as he let a trickle of power fade back into his core.
Locke and Ferngold both said no in turn, and Locke’s owl stretched her wings. “Now that we trust each other,” Greyla said, “the question becomes, can we take on Hamish between us? And whomever he has assisting him?”
Xsing said, “Darien is very strong, and Jasper has a unique mind.”
Pip barked agreement. “Darien is amazing. He—”
Grim bopped the puppy’s butt. “More critically, Darien, being a Weaver, can combine all your magics together. No matter how powerful Hamish is, or Hamish plus demon, I can’t imagine he could surpass all the sorcerers in this room, working as one.”
Silas hoped he was right. “We’re a good group. But I’d like to bring in a couple more to join us. Magda, if she will come, has proven herself in this quest. And we really should have another necromancer.” He crossed his fingers against ill-wishing but said steadily, “If something happens to me, you need at least one more member who can banish demons, not just confine them.”
“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” Darien said fiercely. “But… if they have a ton of demons, then I do want you to have back-up.”
Ferngold suggested, “Worthington’s surely trustworthy, though we can ask him for a Truth declaration too.”
“I want Spry, if she’s available.”
“That woman? Why on earth?”
Because I don’t trust Worthington’s power or his courage, even if he passes a Truth spell. That wasn’t something he should say about a council member, so he said, “This may be an active pursuit, there in the Canadian wilderness. Spry’s much younger and more agile and adaptable.”
Ferngold huffed.
“And it leaves you with backup here, if another demon appears.”
“Ah. True.” Couching the idea as helping Ferngold clearly made it more palatable. “Very well. Spry must pass the Truth spell first, though. After all, if the members of this council are not free of suspicion, then she can’t be.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Silas promised. “Jasper can do the spell. And I’ll speak with Magda.”
“The sooner we get underway, the better,” Tanner said. “Who knows what we’ll find up there. Reconnaissance will be the first task.” He rubbed his hands as if eager for action, instead of dreading it as Silas was. “Locke, you have a suitable vehicle? And Thornwood?”
“We can take the station wagon.” Darien looked at Silas and his eyes held a glint of mischief.
That woody wagon had not yet been given a good mechanical overhaul, and Silas was not driving off into the wilds of nowhere in it. No matter how fond of it Darien was. “My Studebaker can hold four in comfort,” he offered. “Five or even six in a pinch.” And I definitely want transportation under my own control, if we’re hunting demons and powerful sorcerers in unknown locales.
This whole thing felt like being turned loose at the top of a boulder-strewn hill in a bobsled. From the moment they’d found the first portal, all he’d been able to do was hang on and hope to steer. And to thank all the gods for having Darien at my back.