First Destroy All Giant Monsters (The World Wide Witches Research Association) (36 page)

Amber pushed open the hotel room door and held it as the bellboy unloaded the boxes of books from his cart.

“It feels like we’ve traveled all day and are still in the same place,” she sighed, looking at the familiar bland wallpaper.

Karl, searching through his pockets for a tip, only grunted. Amber had driven for most of the way while he slept – again. But she’d woken him two hours before complaining that her arms felt like lead.

They’d switched places and she’d slept the remainder of the trip. It was the sight of her pale face leaning against his shoulder that had prompted him to drive directly to the hotel instead of going to the address of the Albany coven member. Much as he might want to confront another member of the group that was slowly killing him, he couldn’t do it now.

She needed to rest. They both needed to eat. Before they had any contact with the next member of the coven, Karl was determined that he wouldn’t be chased off again by a magic word. He formed his hands into fists and stared at them. He wasn’t strong enough yet to deliver the message he hungered to pass on to the witches who’d attacked him. He noticed the bellboy’s startled look and handed over the crushed bills.

“Thanks,” said Karl, mustering a smile with an effort. “Those books weigh a ton.”

A faint thump came from the bedroom. Karl wandered over and leaned against the door jam. Amber was sprawled face down on one of the beds, fully clothed. Her feet were hanging off the edge. Karl sat beside her, pulled off a shoe, and gently massaged her foot.

“I take it we’re having room service tonight,” he said.

Amber raised one hand an inch and let it fall back onto the comforter. Her voice was muffled by the fabric.

“I’ll pay you a thousand dollars to chew my food.”

“Sorry, but I’m not that kind of boy,” Karl reached for the other foot. “I’ll let you sleep for an hour and then we eat. Deal?”

“Deal,” came the barely audible reply.

Karl grinned and went back to the sitting room, closing the door behind him. Amber had insisted on a suite tonight, wanting room to scatter books and notes around. Karl found himself agreeing with the idea, but it chewed his pride just a little that she was paying. Yesterday’s hotel stay was on her as well. When he offered to pay half tonight she’d just smiled and made that ridiculous remark about money not being important. He was determined to pay his share. His life was the one they were saving. Okay, she’d caught some of the black threads from that web, but she’d had a way of gaining strength from the outside; he’d been suffering for years. And if she left … he knew he would die. His store was where the whole thing had started. The rest of the trip was on him.

In the meantime, there were books to study. They’d been too tired to read the ones she’d bought last night and now they had the ones Smoke had sent to add to the pile. He drew his keys across the tape and broke open the first of the boxes. He lifted out the topmost book and scanned the title.

“Magic and the art …” was all he read before fire lanced through his eyes. The book thudded to the floor as Karl pressed his palms against his forehead and stumbled to a chair. As soon as the book left his hands the pain began to ebb. Karl opened his eyes cautiously, blinking in the dim light. The pain stayed distant, but hovered warningly within his skull. He leaned forward and took hold of another book. He didn’t even complete the first word of the title before the pain returned, increased. Nausea rolled in his stomach and he sank back in the chair. A soft sound of complaint passed through his teeth and he dug his fingers into the arms of the chair. The muscles of his jaws locked and ached.

He’d triggered another spell!

In the store he’d assigned the other associates the responsibility for unpacking the New Age junk. Just passing through that section of the store was enough to give him a small headache. Now he knew there was a reason. Another fucking spell! The coven was keeping him from reading anything that might free him.

“To hell with them all.”

Karl slowly flexed his fingers and forced his rigid muscles to relax. His head throbbed with each beat of his heart. He reached down and grabbed the fallen book. His body spasmed, bowing up in the chair. Grimly he clung to the book as the pain intensified. Each nerve burned. His cramped muscles screamed for oxygen, yet still he held on. The cover bent and soft cardboard tore under the pressure of his fingers. Tremors grew to violent jerking and the mangled book flew from his hands across the room, slamming against the wall. Once it was out of his hand the shaking subsided and Karl slid to the floor.

His heart was still thundering in his chest when he levered himself to his knees. He crawled the two steps to the open box and reached in again. Bracing himself against the pain he pulled out the next book. To his surprise he held the familiar green and black cover of a ‘Nitwits’ book. He blinked and turned it over to read the title.

“The Nitwit’s Guide to All Things Magickal?” Karl snorted. “Yeah. Sure. Right. Smoke must have put this one in as a joke.”

He flipped through the pages randomly, then dropped it on a side table. He reached for the next book. As before spears of fire stabbed into his brain and his vision blurred. He held onto the book for as long as he could. Holding it to his chest. Rolling so that the book was pinned between his body and the floor. Yet again the book flew from him. Breathing heavily Karl repeated the process two more times before climbing slowly back into the chair, rubbing his aching head.

When the pain ebbed he picked up the rejected Nitwits book. There was no stab, no pain from this one. Probably because it wouldn’t help. It was not as if witches would put their deepest secrets and most profound knowledge in that type of book. But maybe he might pick up something. Some hint. There might be some basics buried in it under some of the simplistic fluff.

Chapter Thirteen

“I thought you were going to wake me?” complained Amber, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Pen in hand Karl looked up from his position, sprawled between two chairs reading a book liberally covered in sticky notes. He glanced at the wall clock. It was well past ten o’clock. If they were lucky room service would send them up something more than sandwiches and coffee.

“Well, hell. Look at that. Sorry, Amber, I got caught up reading and lost track of time.”

“That’s okay.” Amber covered a yawn.

Her bi-colored hair stuck out in spikes every which way. Karl’s hands twitched. It might not be the same deep brown, but it still looked soft and his fingers itched to smooth the tangled mass.

“Which books did you get to?” Amber’s foot bumped one of the discarded books and she picked it up, frowning as she carefully smoothed the cover.

“I triggered another spell,” he growled. “This one gives me a searing headache if I try to read a magic book.”

Amber’s head snapped up.

“Really. Anything else?”

“The pain … it felt like someone was driving a burning knife into my eyes. I thought I’d have a seizure if I tried to hold on. My hands shook like crazy. Ended up with books flying all over the room.”

Amber tapped the book against her fingers, then crossed the room and rested her hands gently on his face. Eyes closed she concentrated. Minutes crawled past. She was swaying with fatigue by the time she reopened her eyes.

“Well?” asked Karl, as he caught her around the waist and gently lowered her into a chair.

“It’s interesting. I can see that spell. It’s all lit up under the other layers. I think it’s a really early spell …”

She stopped and groaned. Her hands fell limply to her sides. Karl dropped to the floor beside her chair, one hand resting lightly on her knee. Amber moved her leg out from under his hand.

“What?”

“Touch, remember. I get weaker when you touch me,” Amber sighed. “I could do it now. With the way it shines, it’s so clear, so defined I could take it off and everything outside it as well. One clear cut. But, oh Elements, Karl, I’m sorry. I’m still too tired.”

“Forget it. It’s too dangerous. You can barely keep your eyes open.”

“But I’ve been asleep for hours and it’s visible now,” she wailed.

“Listen, Amber, my girl,” said Karl. “You will do no magic when you are already weak. You know what happens when you overextend yourself. Smoke will fry both our asses.”

When Amber began to protest Karl waved her to silence.

“I haven’t got a circle of protection to keep you safe if you do too much. Hey, I felt something like this when Smoke asked me to draw the circle. Maybe they set me up so I couldn’t read or do magic!”

“Yeah, they made it so you’d never be able to free yourself.”

“And I hated magic users so I’d never be tempted to ask for help. Damn them all, they did a thorough job on me.”

Amber tightened her shields and laid her hand carefully on his arm.

“We’ll do it, Karl. We’ll find them and teach them better manners.”

“Okay. We’ll forget it for tonight. Besides, all I have to do to trigger that spell is to look at the title of a magic book. We can do that anytime you’re feeling up to it.”

Karl’s stomach cramped even as he spoke. He hungered with all of his soul to be free of the spells, but Amber’s pallor worried him. A couple of hours sleep should’ve made some difference. But she did one small spell – a few moments of magic work investigating the latest spell and he could see she was passing out on her feet. Karl picked up the room service menu and went to the phone.

“Now we eat. Later we can talk.” He waved his hand in the direction of the Nitwits book. “I was looking through that one. I’m sure it’s not accurate. For one thing I could look at it without having any pain at all. I think Smoke just put it in as a joke, but it did give me some ideas for questions. Maybe you could go through it with me later. I’ve marked a few places. Take a look at what they wrote and then you can tell me what real witches do.”

“What makes you think it’s not true?” Amber picked up the book, smiling and riffled the pages, “just because it isn’t covered in black leather of unknown species with incomprehensible handwriting and complex symbols? It’s not a thick ancient handbound tome with the pages stained with smelly liquids, you don’t think it’s real?”

Karl stopped mid-dial.

“What do you mean?”

Amber hesitated. Every other book Karl picked up resulted in an attack. Maybe because he
believed
that the information contained in the other books was real, was magical, he was hurt. Maybe because he didn’t believe in the contents of the Nitwit book, he was protected.

Amber placed the brilliant green book back on the table.

“No. I don’t mean anything. Even this book could have something to offer. Who am I to judge? We can look at it later.”

“Okay.”

Karl turned away to dial room service and Amber grabbed a black felt-tip pen out of her computer bag and quickly obliterated the author’s name from the Nitwits book – Lucinda DeGoode.

Karl mock kicked a half empty box and slouched back to the table. Amber picked through the debris on the room service table and located a piece of fruit she’d already rejected twice, popped it in her mouth, then returned her attention to the three books on her lap.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to not be able to help myself? I can’t look it up in a book. I can’t look at the damn page. I can’t do spells even to protect myself. I don’t know how. I can’t even listen to a description. And the thing that bites the hardest,” he turned to glare at Amber, “is that not even my dreams are my own! When I’m the most vulnerable, most helpless, I’m attacked. How the hell am I supposed to fight off wolves in my sleep?”

“Karate?” Amber yawned and marked another page with a sticky note, “The gravity in the dream seems to be a bit higher than normal because the speed of movement is slowed down. Remember when I was playing with the dust? Maybe if you pretended you were doing Tai Chi exercises. That’s slowed down karate, isn’t it? I remember reading that once.”

She yawned again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Karl muttered, “It’s a dream. How can you fight in a dream? Besides, as fast as those wolves move, it’d be a waste of effort.”

Amber picked another book out of the pile and turned to the contents page.

“I thought speed wasn’t the point in martial arts. Isn’t it turning your enemy’s strength against him?”

She flipped through the book, found her page, and started reading.

“It’s more than that.” Karl paced around the room again, carefully keeping his eyes averted from the titles of the books scattered over every flat surface. Not being able to fight back was frustrating, but not being able to read books that might contain a clue to setting him free clawed at his gut. He’d read the damn Nitwit’s book three times and it was more interesting each time he went through. But he wanted desperately to get into the
real
books. The real magic. The information that would free him. Every time he thought about what he was being denied the churning in his gut increased.

Amber didn’t even turn her head when her phone rang. Karl shuffled through piles of discarded books and scribbled notes to unearth the small phone and hit the speaker button.

“Hello?” he said.

“Please identify yourself.”

Karl took the phone away from his ear and stared at it blankly for a moment before remembering Amber’s odd contact.

“Amber, I think this is Davie.”

“Oh, great.” Amber dove across the room. “Davie, this is me. What have you got for us?”

“Hey, there,” rasped Davie’s artificial voice. “How’s everything with you guys?”

“Fine. We tried to phone you earlier, but there was no reply.”

“Chemo day,” replied Davie after a pause, “I just got home. I called to check in and give you an update on the people you asked about.”

Amber sighed and stared at the floor for a few moments, before forcing a cheerful expression onto her face.

“Sure, Davie. That would help. But – just humor me on this – could you refer to the person who lives in Albany as … ah … as ‘Albany’? It may not make any sense, but it is really important.”