Firemancer Collection (Fated Saga Box Set Book 1) (40 page)

“Positive. It’s not a monetary thing, well, it could be I guess. It’s what’s
in
the book that matters.”

“We should get closer,” he decided.

“Any ideas on how to do that?” she asked, glad he had not instantly abandoned her.

“I’ve been spying for hours, and those two ghosts doing rounds take a good couple of minutes on the other side. Do you see that small alley there?” he pointed in between two of the huts. “I can’t quite tell, but I think there’s a cart or something we might be able to hide in.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

He nodded, shushing her again as the ghosts came back around. They waited, ready to spring for the alley as soon as the ghosts were out of sight. Meghan went first, dashing through the other side of the tree, followed by Ivan. They reached the alley. It was a cart, but it was filled with skunky smelling rags.

“I can’t get in that,” she complained.

Ivan pushed her in, landing beside her.

“Breathe already,” he chided. “It’s bad, but I’ve smelled worse,” he added, pulling a stinky rag over them, for cover.

“You’re getting quite the kick out of this, aren’t you?” she pouted.

His dry arrogant smile answered her question.

“I’m going to need a major bath after this,” she moaned.

“I can’t argue with that,” said Ivan.

She shot him a scowl.

They cautiously peeked into the compound. Two ghosts played poker with a ghostly deck of cards.

“You’re cheating,” accused a scrawny ghost.

“I ain’t been cheatin'! You take it back!” demanded a short, chubbier ghost.

“I won’t,” the scrawny one goaded. The chubby one responded by throwing his cards at the scrawny one.

A familiar ghost appeared, scolding the players.

“Will the two of you idiots shut the hell up! We got a big operation going on here. Go do your rounds.”

“Duppy!” Meghan asserted coldly. “He confronted Colin and me,” she explained, realizing Ivan wouldn’t understand.

“The secrets keep piling up, don’t they?”

“I’ll explain later,” she huffed.

Footsteps approached.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Yes, not a ghost, either,” answered Ivan. “It’s coming our way,” he warned. They held their breath as the footsteps passed by their rank hiding spot. Meghan took a daring glance over the edge. Whoever it was, they were dressed in a deep red, hooded cloak. Duppy floated haughtily to meet the hooded figure.

“At last,” he said in a growling voice. “’Bout time, too, my employer grows impatient.” The hooded figure silently took a package from within its robes and laid it on the table. Meghan’s gut told her it was the Magicante. Duppy hovered over the package, rubbing his hands together greedily. “My employer will be pleased,” he sneered, pointing to an envelope on the table. “Payment in full.”

The hooded figure grasped the envelope emptying the contents; it was a roll of paper.

“Huh, it’s not money,” muttered Meghan, wondering what was so important about those papers that it was worth hurting her brother for.

Meghan and Ivan ducked back into their stinky rag hideout, until the footsteps of the living person were out of range.

“Don’t know about you,” said Ivan, “but I’ve had enough of stinky rags.” He bounded bravely out of the bin, landing with a soft thud.

“Don’t need to say that twice,” she said, following him, although not quite so gracefully. Her confidence was high though, knowing that ghosts couldn’t harm her.

“Guard the package,” ordered Duppy, the instant he saw the duo.

“How?” the two poker playing ghosts asked. “We’re ghosts, we can’t touch it.”

“You idiots, maybe they weren’t aware of that. Besides, I wasn’t talking to
you
.”

Another, very much alive, hooded figure exited one of the huts. All Meghan could see was the figure’s eyes; a fierce shade of blue.

“Okay, wasn’t prepared for that,” said Ivan. “Hope you’re ready for battle.”

“Battle! You do realize I suck at magic, right?”

Ivan rolled his eyes at her. “It’s probably not a good idea to let your opponent know that.”

“Oops!” she grimaced.

“Meghan,” he said in all seriousness. “I haven’t seen what this guy can do, but if I can’t take him you’ll be on your own.”

Meghan knew he was right. “Just tell me what to do, Ivan.”

“Concentrate. Allow the energy to fill you, and then let it out. Preferably on the other guy, not me if you don’t mind.”

“This is not a good time for insults, Ivan.”

“I wasn’t. You knock me out by accident, and you’re left…”

“Alone! I get it!” she said heatedly. “I’m not completely stupid, Ivan!”

He shrugged, leaving her side. The hooded figure, who wasn’t much taller than Meghan, observed their every move, while guarding the package. Ivan worked his way around the mud huts.

“No other people,” he mouthed to Meghan. Ivan began his interrogation. “What do you want with that package?” There was no answer. Meghan crept around the opposite side of the huts, happening across a ghost locked in a cell.

“Timothy! What are you doing here?”

“I knew one of you would find me,” he boasted happily.

“Sit tight. I’ll get you out, okay. How are they holding you, Timothy? You’re a ghost.”

“Magic, I guess. I’ve been stuck here two weeks.” Meghan kept her eye on the hooded figure and Ivan, while she tried to free Timothy. The hooded figure stepped closer to the room where Timothy was imprisoned. Meghan did not think it was possible, but Timothy, already dead, turned paler than he already was. He backed into the farthest corner possible.

“Watch out, not nice,” Timothy said, hiding his eyes.

“Sit tight, Timothy. I won’t leave you, okay.”

With swift movement, the hooded figure jumped onto the table grabbing the package. He snapped his fingers and a host of ghosts materialized, swirling overhead. He motioned for them to attack. They dove from all directions. The ghosts might not be able to use magic on the living; however, being saturated with the cold feeling of death each time a ghost sliced through their bodies was definitely a distraction. After a minute, the ghosts ended their attack, rising above, swirling around waiting for orders.

“I need to get that package,” Meghan said to herself, regaining her composure. The moment she had said it, the hooded figure glanced her direction, his shocking blue eyes squinting at her.

He towered over the book, ordering the ghosts to attack again. As soon as Ivan found a brief pause in the attack he threw his arm, palm out, at the hooded figure, who was not expecting the blow. It knocked him off his feet and he skidded across the ground. An arm fell out of the robe. Meghan jumped at the chance to get closer.As she reached out to grab the package, she saw the arm. It was a young arm. They were fighting a child!

The discovery did not stop the battle. The robed child fought back, shooting a heavy blow toward Ivan, who blocked it. Meghan grabbed the package and fled back to Timothy. From the corner of her eye she saw Ivan fly through the air, through a ghost, and land hard against a wall.

“Ivan,” she shouted, as he hit the ground. The robed child noticed that Meghan held the package and lunged at her. She panicked, unable to focus and collect the energy to produce any magic. Ivan picked up his head and with his last bit of strength, sent a blow toward the hooded child. It was only enough of a blow to give Meghan the smallest of head starts.

“Run,” yelled Timothy. “I can’t die again, get out of here.” She didn’t want to leave, but perhaps she could run and find her uncle, and
he
could rescue Timothy. She spotted the closest exit. The ghosts began diving for her. Then she saw Ivan lying on the ground. He was not moving.

“No. I’m not leaving,” she decided. She spun around and cried out, “STOP!” Taken off guard by the command, the ghosts froze and waited for orders. The hooded child halted ten feet in front of her, watching intently.

“Tell me who you are, and why you want this book,” she breathed heavily. There was still no answer. “I know you’re a child…” she taunted.

A young male voice, stern, strong and calm, finally spoke.

“Not that it matters, but I just turned fourteen, hardly a child. You should concern yourself with the fact that I am stronger than you, and my master
will
have that book.”

Just then, a familiar Catawitch jostled around the robed boy’s legs. Her instincts had been right. The visiting Catawitch in Cobbscott
was
evil.

“Hello Meghan,” she purred.

“This is
your
master? This boy?” asked Meghan. The robed child winced at the word boy.

“I told you he wanted to meet you. You should have listened when you had the chance.”

“Who is your master, then?” she demanded of the robed child. “What’s his business with my brother’s book?” The boy didn’t answer, and inside Meghan’s head the echo of a voice erupted.

“Oh, not now, Colin, it couldn’t be a worse time for you to contact me,” she whispered vehemently. The ghosts above were getting restless, Ivan was still completely limp and Timothy remained stuck in his prison. “I need help,” she uttered in desperation.

The scene around her slowed, freezing in place, including Meghan. Beams of light emanated out of Meghan’s thorn-covered locket, followed by the shadow of a woman sleeping on a feather. She awakened and arose, her body a beacon of light.

“Help is coming and you are ready for this, Meghan. You will know what to do!” The woman stroked Meghan’s frightened face. Her skin shimmered like gold.

The feather reclaimed the woman’s figure and she again slept, her ghostly image regressing back into the locket.

The chaos came screaming back to life. Meghan took a deep breath as the ghosts began diving. The hooded child menacingly strode toward her.

“Ghost candy,” she remembered in a flash. “I can use it to do a spell against the ghosts and then the kid can’t touch me! At least for thirty seconds.” She reached into her skirt pocket; she had just three pieces left.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, popping a piece into her mouth. The change occurred in the nick of time. The hooded child threw a spell at her, which ripped straight through her ghostly body. His blue eyes appraised her, obviously impressed at the unexpected move.

The ghosts, also caught off guard by Meghan’s maneuver, paused momentarily, and then attacked furiously. Meghan felt their energy and held out her hand, determined. “Sphaera,” she bellowed. The energy pulled itself into a perfect sphere. This stopped the ghosts in their tracks. She threw it at the closest one blasting it into a million ghostly pieces.

“I did it!” she screamed, hurrying to collect another, knowing her time was short.

“Attack her, bring her down,” ordered Duppy.

Meghan stayed on the defensive and after blowing up two more ghosts her body started to turn real again. She ate the second piece of candy and dispersed three more. The rest made a beeline for the woods, not wanting to be her next target.

She ate the final piece.

Only Duppy remained.

He faced her head on with a sphere of his own. She flew into the air and dove behind him, his sphere missing her.

“Hey Duppy,” she called out. He floated his hideous ghostly body around and covered his face with his hands as the sphere hit him head on.

Meghan changed back and fell to the ground, landing about twenty feet away from the hooded child and his Catawitch. She picked herself up and almost instantly, fell over. “I’ve drained myself,” she assumed, leaning her body against the edge of the mud hut, trying to maintain her balance. There was no where to run. The hooded boy lifted his hand to throw a spell.

“This is it,” she cried. “I tried so hard, and still I failed.”

In the split second that followed, Meghan’s loyal Catawitch, Nona, came bounding in. She was small, but vicious and charged the larger, wicked Catawitch.

Above the hut fluttered a bird, the very one Meghan had locked in a cage earlier that morning.

It shimmered, while diving at full speed. Beams of light began pouring from the bird’s body, and then the most unexpected thing she could have imagined happened!

As the bird descended, its shape began shifting. The wings disappeared and arms formed. Where there had been claws now were human feet. Tattered clothes replaced the feathers.

A thunderous voice reverberated through the huts as the bird-human shouted a spell, landing with a skidding thud. The spell hit the unsuspecting hooded boy, knocking him to the ground.

Without a second thought, the boy got to his feet.

“Elisha!” he called out to his Catawitch. “Let’s go!”

“The book!” she reminded.

“Not today!” he shouted.

His Catawitch vaulted into a nearby fire pit. The boy dashed to her side, grasping her back, and they vanished, dissolving into the fire.