JUST AFTER DAWN, Morrigan the Bright stood naked on the Weave, her feet placed with precision within its triskelion pattern. She stood between two hospital beds. On each bed lay an unconscious man, stripped to the waist.
Runes covered not only her arms, but her entire body. Her face and neck. Her belly and back. Her breasts and buttocks. Her long legs. Front, back, and sides. All of her now carried the ancient symbols. The runes formed over a dozen scripts, each part of the three most complex spells she’d ever attempted.
On the bed to her right lay the body of Karmalov, the surviving mercenary. Karmalov’s body, yes, but Karmalov no more. Morrigan had earlier transferred Marell’s astral spirit into the soldier. Marell’s recent vessel had once more not survived. The boy Rattle was gone. Her sad family of Hollow Boys would not grow today.
And if this worked, that family would never grow again.
To her left lay Yeshe Norbu, former Ganden Tripa of the Ganden Monastery, eighty-second Holder of the Golden Throne. On his naked chest, she’d drawn his true name in runes, for true names have power. She’d drawn his title, too, out of respect, for he had been a worthy adversary.
He had led them on a chase of many years. But those years, she’d realized in recent days, had been the happiest of her long strange existence. Through that time, she’d had purpose. She’d been with the man she loved. She’d known what she wanted from life.
Now…
Now their long quest—hers and Marell’s—was over. With this spell, a new chapter in her life began. She didn’t know what that chapter would bring. Worse, she didn’t know what she wanted it to bring.
Once restored, Marell would have no need of her magicks. Not to aid him to find new bodies. Or transfer his spirit to those vessels. Or sustain him in those hosts. All that, he could do himself.
So where would she fit? She’d always believed, when this day came, nothing would change between them. Because she’d always believed Marell was with her because he loved her.
Now she was no longer sure. Just as she was no longer sure who Marell was. Or rather, who he had become.
One thing she did know—he was not the same man she had once loved.
She caught herself. Once?
When they met years ago, a thirst for knowledge had united them. For her, magical lore. For him, astral learnings. But Marell’s quest changed. He craved power, not knowledge. Power over others. Had that always been his quest? Had she been blind all these years?
Her own search for magical knowledge had never been about power over others. She’d wanted power, yes, but only to defend herself, to avoid the fate of her mother, her coven…
She swallowed. Her brother.
She’d long ago gained that power. What remained to fill her life, now their quest had ended? Her Hollow Boys? Marell would no longer tolerate them when he and she departed here. He would refuse her the boy, Fader, too. Anger seized her at that thought, but so did a sudden realization.
She would fight to keep the boy.
With her new resolve, she turned again to the monk. Along with Yeshe’s name and title, she’d drawn the necessary runes on the monk’s pale skin. Drawn, not carved as she’d promised.
She’d planned to fulfill that promise. She’d held the ritual dagger over his chest, its obsidian blade glinting sharp and cruel in the flickering torch light.
But as she’d touched the blade to his flesh, poised to carve the first rune, she’d hesitated. A face rose unbidden in her mind. The face of the boy, Fader.
And his face wore the look she knew it would if he watched her do this thing. That imagined expression had made her lay down the blade.
What would Marell say of this surprising mercy? Nothing good. But he was not conscious to comment. After the transfer, he’d be too consumed with his renewal to notice what she’d done. Or not done.
Anger burned in her again. Of late, Marell was too consumed with himself to notice her. Failing, also, to acknowledge her accomplishments on his behalf. Or worse, belittling them.
She’d saved him time and time again. Found him new hosts. Transferred his spirit into each new boy. Sustained his failing bodies. Tracked Yeshe to this city, to the white tower. And now she’d delivered the monk, too. Success at last lay before them.
But instead of praise, Marell spoke only of her “failures.” Letting that wretched girl escape. Letting her escape again. Leaving that boy who’d killed the Mara behind. And Marell held only contempt for her family of Hollow Boys. Worst, though, was his anger over her affection for the boy Fader.
She shrugged. His anger no longer mattered—she would keep the boy. She returned to the delicate task at hand.
To retrieve the lost fragment from within the monk, she needed to apply three spells in sequence. She touched her left hand to Yeshe’s chest. The first script streamed down her arm, disappearing rune by rune into the old man. There, it took the form of a golden lioness. She followed her magical creature as, step by step, it stalked through the monk, hunting its prey.
Deeper and deeper, the lioness crept. Searching, searching…
There. So long sought for—and now within her grasp.
Marell’s lost astral fragment.
To her magical sight, the missing piece clung like a throbbing gray stain on Yeshe’s silver astral chest. Like a tumor. She pushed that image away. Focus.
The piece twitched, perhaps sensing danger. Closer and closer, her spell beast crept.
The cord fragment shot up, straining to escape from where it was tied. Thinner and thinner that connection stretched. Another second, and that bond would snap.
Marell believed the lost fragment would immediately fly to him once freed of Yeshe. But a belief, no matter how strong, was just a belief until proven. That the piece was about to leave the monk’s body was clear. But where it would go then was unknown. It might even flee this plane, to be lost forever.
She spoke a word. The lioness sprang.
And caught the long-lost fragment in its magical jaws. Gently tugging it free of the monk’s astral body, the lioness turned.
And leaped out of Yeshe.
Raising both hands before her, she threw the second spell. The lioness froze in its leap to hover before her, caught in a golden cage small enough to hold in her hands. In its jaws, the missing piece squirmed and writhed, trying to break free. If she lost control of the spell now...
With her normal sight, she noted Yeshe’s chest continuing to rise and fall. You’re a tough old dog, she thought, almost with affection. Not that it mattered. Marell would never let Yeshe live, even if the monk survived.
But she could spare the old man no more attention. Now came the most difficult step—reinserting the retrieved fragment into Marell’s new body. In theory, once there, the piece would reunite with Marell’s incomplete spirit, making his astral body whole again.
In theory.
Even to Marell’s knowledge, the splitting of an astral body had never occurred. Therefore, no one had ever attempted such a reunion. Until now. Until this moment.
The missing fragment still thrashed in the lioness’s jaws, trying to escape. She cupped her hands around the caged lioness and its captured piece. Slowly, she lowered the spell until it hovered above Marell-Karmalov’s chest.
The fragment became still. She caught her breath. Did it sense its true astral body? Did it know it was “home?” Was this going to work?
She prepared her third spell, the most complex of the layers. This final spell would carry the lioness with the cord fragment into Marell’s new host. Her bare skin tingled as the rune scripts flowed over her. Flowed from her legs and right arm. From her breasts and buttocks. Flowed to cover her left arm, ready to be cast.
She laid her left hand on Marell’s bare chest. And prepared to say the magical words in her native Manx. The words to release the spell, to make Marell whole once more.
A horn screeched in her head, a magical alarm only she heard, but so loud and sudden, she almost lost control of the lioness spell.
Someone had entered the hospital.
She swore softly in Manx. Should she continue? No. These interlopers might interrupt her before she completed the transfer.
Leaving the lioness frozen above Marell, his missing piece thrashing in its jaws, she sent a mental command to Stayne and Stryke to secure their prisoners and to not engage with the intruders. That done, she left to greet their unknown visitors.
WILL SAT AT his design desk, doing a final review of the next Dream Rider issue as he waited for Stone’s signal. A beep brought his head up. The video display on his wall no longer showed Adi’s hospital room. Instead, the screen now split into four views of the abandoned hospital. Views that were getting closer.
The SWAT team was on the move.
He walked to the big screen, clenching and unclenching his fists. This had to work.
The video was jumpy—feeds from body-mounted cameras worn by Stone’s team. The four views represented separate teams, each poised to enter the hospital from a different side. He unmuted the display.
Silence. Then Stone’s voice rasped over the speakers. “This is Alpha Leader. Team leaders, report.”
“Bravo team ready,” came another male voice.
“Charlie team ready.”
“Delta team ready.” A final voice, this one female.
Each team had stopped outside a door on their side of the building. Time seemed to stop, too. He held his breath, waiting for Stone to give the command.
Seconds passed. Had something gone wrong? Had Stone changed his mind? No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. This had to happen. He reached for his cell, to call Stone, to tell him—
He jumped as Stone’s voice burst from the speakers again. “This is Alpha Leader. All teams—go!”
The raid began. The four scenes rushed towards him. And he could only watch—and hope.
MORRIGAN STEPPED FROM the Weave room into the hospital corridor. She’d thrown on a long, black silk robe. Her nakedness didn’t bother her, but the hallway was chilly. And she was expecting guests.
The Weave room sat in the northwest corner on the third floor, at the intersection of two outer corridors. To her left, down the longer north corridor, sounds came from the stairwell. She closed the door behind her, killing the torch light spilling from the room and plunging her into murky shadow.
A second later, eight black-clad figures emerged from the stairwell. Each carried a gun like those Karmalov’s team had used, barrels pointed down. She didn’t know the kind or make. Weaponry bored her. Strange headgear covered their left eyes. Four of the group crossed to the hallway connecting to the south corridor and were lost from her sight.
The remaining four advanced toward where she waited, giving no indication they had seen her. Summoning the runes for a stun spell, she remained still, watching.
The intruders reached the first room in the corridor. Two positioned themselves on either side of the door, a third farther back in the hall. The fourth (the leader, she assumed) checked a display unit on his belt.
He shook his head. One man tried the door handle, found it unlocked, nodded to the leader who nodded back. In a flurry of motion, the team burst into the room, weapons ready, disappearing from her view.
Their obvious training worried her. These people were professionals.
The black-clad figures emerged again. They moved to the next door, where they repeated the previous scene. And again at the next room. The armed men continued working their way toward the Weave room. Toward where all her and Marell’s plans for the past century sat poised on a knife-edge.
The four intruders emerged from the next-to-last room in the hallway. Only the Weave room remained.
Time to welcome her guests. She pushed open the door to the room. Torch light flooded the corridor, illuminating her in the doorway.
The men continued their stealthy approach.
She walked back into the room. Resuming her position on the Weave between the two beds holding Marell and Yeshe, she waited, stun spell ready.
A moment later, the men stormed into the room. Crouched and alert, weapons up, they scanned the room. Their gazes fell on her.
And kept moving.
Completing their scan, the men straightened, relaxing. The one she took for the leader pulled off his strange headgear. He touched something on his chest. “Delta leader, report.”
She heard a crackling response from the man’s headset, but not the words. He touched his chest again. “Alpha leader, this is Bravo leader. Finished sweep of third floor. No thermal readings. All rooms empty. Sorry, boss, but we’ve got nothing.”
Another crackling reply.
“Roger that. Rendezvous at extraction point.” He touched his chest again, then motioned to his team. They exited the room.
Their echoing footsteps in the hallway grew more distant. A door opened, and she knew they were descending the stairwell and would soon exit the building.
Relaxing finally, she allowed herself a momentary flush of pride. The alarm spell she’d placed around the hospital perimeter was a simple one. An invisible curtain that, once breached, notified her and triggered the cloaking spell.
The cloaking magicks were more complex. They imposed false images for the heat-detecting instruments Karmalov had warned such a team might carry. False visuals, too, for the rooms where humans resided. One for where the Hollow Boys and the last unused boy slept. One for Stayne and Stryke’s shared room. Another for where Fader and his dreadful sister lay restrained. Another for the Weave room itself. Finally, visuals of dusty floors with no footprints throughout.
The spell imposed a veil of silence in the occupied rooms, too. She imagined that wretched girl screaming her head off as these men burst into her room. The raiders would see and hear nothing. She smiled, imagining the girl’s confusion. Confusion, then horror, as the men retreated, leaving her a prisoner still.
With the raid now over, she withdrew those spells. The men would not search the hospital again, and she couldn’t spare the magical energy. Standing on the Weave, she moaned with pleasure as the rug drank in the power of the canceled spells. Extra power she needed to complete the transfer.
She turned to where Marell-Karmalov lay unconscious. Above him, the lioness spell hung frozen where she’d caged it. Behind shimmering golden bars, it crouched, the missing astral fragment in its jaws. It was ready. Ready to leap. To carry the fragment back into Marell’s new body. To make him complete once more.
Wrapping her hands around the spell, she spoke the words to free the magical beast. The cage disappeared. The lioness leaped from her hands…
And into Marell.