The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (24 page)

I gasped, Arthur cried out, and Titus just stared straight ahead at Abigail. Her eyes were closed and her hands lay in her lap. She was unmoving, and from this distance, I couldn’t tell if she was breathing.

“Is she . . .” I choked.

“No,” said Titus quickly. He didn’t have to read my mind to know what I was thinking. “I’d smell it if she was. As far as I can tell, these are the only dead people in the room.” He indicated the human bones, and I saw Arthur grimace.

I recognized my mother’s outfit from the night she disappeared. It was a long, gauzy dress she often wore around the house. In this light, it made her look like a Roman goddess. Shimmers in the dark green fabric reflected the light of minerals studded in the cave walls, making the dress seem to sparkle. Her arms were bare, and her hair was done up with several bands across the front, typical of her bohemian style. She looked even more beautiful than I remembered.

Her long skirt flowed like water over the side of the pedestal, and waves of memories washed over me. Abigail at the library, on the train, humming in her room. I swore I could smell her perfume—the wisteria, the hyacinth—all the way from here. All I wanted to do was bury my face in her hair, the way I did when I was a child. To know that she was finally safe.

“I can’t believe it,” I whispered. “After all this time, all this searching, it really is her. She’s actually fifty feet in front of us, like some Wiccan Sleeping Beauty.”

“Snow White,” Titus corrected, still not taking his eyes off her.

“What?”

“Sleeping Beauty was the one in the tower,” he said. “Snow White was asleep on a pedestal—technically, in a glass coffin.”

“Unbelievable.” I closed my eyes and shook my head. My father was quoting fairy tales to me. “I don’t even want to know how you know that,” I said. “Look, the point is, she’s the damsel in distress from every story by the Brothers Grimm, and we have
got
to get down there.”

“Agreed,” said Titus.

“But how?” asked Arthur. “She’s at least fifteen yards away, and there’s quite a drop below us.” We all looked down to where the bones of more mortal victims were strewn about the cave.

“
We
can fly,” Titus said, looking at Arthur, but motioning to himself and me. “As far as I can see,
you’re
the only one with a problem. You can stay here.”

“Father, please,” I said. Then I held my hand, palm down, over the floor of the cave, which began to rise in a long, thin line towards the pedestal. The bones we’d seen fell away as the ground rose higher, higher, and soon became a bridge from our ledge to where my mother lay.

“See? Problem solved,” I said to Titus, indicating he should lead the way. He pursed his lips and walked ahead, while Arthur followed. I brought up the rear, shaking my throbbing hand. Earth sorcery seemed even harder in caves. Although it was incredible how much magic was down here, it didn’t want to move. I imagined it was because caves evolved slowly; they hated to be rushed.
Dirt is so much more malleable than rock
, I thought as I rubbed my aching fingers.

We were soon at my mother’s side, and I scarcely dared to breathe.

“I knew it,” I whispered. “I just knew she was in Rome all along.”

“Good on you, Joshua,” Arthur said, giving my arm a thump. “You really did it.”

“Yes, wonderful. We’ve found her,” Titus said in a tight voice, his eyes scanning Abigail. “But that’s only the first part. If I’m not mistaken, this isn’t an ordinary nap she’s having. She appears to be under some kind of sleeping curse.”

“A sleeping curse?” said Arthur. “What’s that—some kind of magical coma?”

“You’re the high and mighty PIA member,” said Titus. “Why don’t you tell us?”

“Father, please—you can’t expect the PIA to know
everything
,” I said. “It might be something similar to what the witches did to Ferox.
If
that’s what they did.”

“But how would vampires put a curse on someone?” asked Arthur.

“I’ve no idea,” replied Titus. “As far as I know, that’s not a power they have. But I suggest we try and wake her up, and quickly. Abigail. Abigail!” Titus yelled, shaking my mother by the shoulders.

We called Abigail’s name countless times, shook her, and despite my protests, Titus even slapped her. But nothing we did made any difference.

“It’s useless. What are we going to do?” I buried my face in my hands.

“In the fairy tales,” Arthur said, “true love’s kiss always wakes the princess.” Titus gave him a look of death. But I was willing to try anything.

“Look, can you just kiss her?” I pleaded with Titus. “It’s worth a shot, at least.”

“What have you got to lose?” Arthur asked quietly.

Titus looked from me to Arthur and back again. Finally, he sighed and knelt down beside the pedestal, placing his hands on either side of Abigail’s face. Then he leaned over my mother, and—more tenderly than I would have thought possible—pressed his lips to hers.

We all held our breath, and Titus’s eyes searched Abigail’s face for any sign of life. But there was nothing. Arthur and I looked at the ground, and I squeezed my own eyes shut. We came all this way, and my mother was
so close
, yet somehow we were unable to reach her.

“All right, then.” Titus stood up, turned to us, and gave his lapels a sharp tug. “Plan B. We carry her back and see if there’s something we can do to—”

We heard choking sounds from the pedestal, and Titus whirled around. Abigail was sitting up partway, coughing into her hand. I swear, I never heard anything so beautiful in my entire life.

“Mom!” I cried. I collapsed next to Abigail and wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her hair just the way I’d longed to.

“Joshua?” she croaked, sitting up all the way now. She took my face in her hands and gazed at me. “But you’re all grown up,” she murmured.

“Well, you’ve been asleep for almost twenty years,” I said, unable to stop smiling.

Her eyes widened. “I have?” She put her hand to the side of her head, gaping at the cavern with her mouth wide open. “What year is it? Where am I?” Before Titus or I could answer, she looked me up and down.

“What on earth are you wearing?”

“What? This is how people dress nowadays,” I said.

My mother pursed her lips. “I know
that
. Men’s fashion hasn’t changed that much while I’ve been out. But you look so . . . wrinkled. And dirty. Is that blood on your shirt? Bring that light closer!” she commanded, and the magic orb drifted to her side as she squinted at me. “Oh my God—your face!” she cried. “It’s all bruised!” She stroked the side of it, and I winced. “And what’s this cut below your eye?”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” I said, pulling her hands down gently. “I didn’t have time to shower and shave before coming to rescue you.” Honestly, I half-expected her to lick her thumb and start wiping my cheek with it. “But do you need anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“A little, I guess,” she admitted.

“We can take care of all that later,” Titus interjected.

Abigail looked up. “Titus?”

My father cleared his throat. “Hello, Abigail. You look well.” For once, he was smiling agreeably.

“Thank you,” Abigail replied. “And you look . . . exactly the same, from what I can remember.”

“What
was
the last thing you remember?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I was packing up for the day, you were in your room, and then . . . then they came through the window. They were yelling, demanding I answer all kinds of questions about my crystal. But I wouldn’t answer, of course. After that, everything’s a blank.”

“Did they torture you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from trembling.

She rubbed her temples. “I . . . I don’t remember.” But for the first time, I noticed scars along her hands and forearms—defensive wounds, police call them. She never had scars there before, so they must have been from the kidnapping.

By God, I’m not only going to kill those monsters, I’m going to make sure it
hurts.

I gave Abigail the extremely short version of everything that happened until that point, including our search for her that lasted almost two decades. She shook her head in disbelief as I finished.

“I can’t believe I’m in
Rome
.” she said. “And you!” She looked at me. “You took on the High Council, infiltrated the PIA . . .”

“Ahem.” I heard a cough behind me, and turned to see Arthur give a little wave.

“Oh, right!” I put several fingers to my forehead. In all the excitement over Abigail waking up, I’d completely forgotten Arthur was there. “Speaking of the PIA,” I said, “allow me to introduce you to Arthur Hartwood, manager of the London branch.” The two stared at each other for a moment.

“Arthur Hartwood . . .” Abigail said slowly. “That’s the one you threw in jail, right Joshua?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly
throw
him—”

“That’s me,” interrupted Arthur, putting down his satchel and crossbow long enough to shake Abigail’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Ah, Abigail Silver,” she replied. “And likewise. You can forget about all that ‘ma’am’ stuff—just call me Abigail. But why are we all hanging around here?” she asked. “And why was Titus kissing me?”

“It did happen occasionally, if you recall,” Titus said dryly. Abigail frowned at him.

“We thought it would help wake you up from your sleeping curse,” Arthur explained. “Like with princesses in storybooks. And as you can see, it did the trick!”

Abigail frowned again. “I don’t think so. It was probably just a coincidence.”

“I assumed as much,” Titus said quickly. “Wait—what do you mean, a coincidence?”

“Well,” explained Abigail, “if you control a sleeping curse, as the vampires here likely do, you can remove it whenever you want. I don’t think kissing has anything to do with it, unless the vampires planned it that way. Unlikely, though.”

“But why would they remove it now?” I asked. “They still need the crystal, or at least want it, and they haven’t gotten it yet.”

“I don’t know,” started Abigail. Before she could say anything more, we heard the grating sound of stone on stone. We all turned and saw the boulder moving back across the entrance. From the opposite end of the cave, we heard snickers echoing.

“I do,” said Titus grimly. “Because they wanted to set a trap.”

Chapter 22

My stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. Arthur instantly readied his crossbow. My mother rose from the pedestal and stood up, and we all faced what looked to be about ten or so vampires standing across from us. They’d come in from a doorway at the other end of the cave—one we hadn’t even noticed was there. Likely all of us were too preoccupied with finding and waking my mother.

“It appears we’re no longer the only immortals in Rome,” Titus remarked, his mouth set in a line.

“You got that right, old man!” one of the vampires scoffed, and the others joined in. He was leaning one hand against the wall, his ankles crossed in front of him. He wore torn black jeans, a black T-shirt, and a studded belt buckle. I got the feeling he was the group’s leader, unless of course that leader was actually Callix Ferox.

Most of the other vampires were similarly dressed, with mortal ages that varied from early twenties to mid-forties. But you could tell more about their real ages by the hairstyles—especially the sideburns on the men. These weren’t the ridiculous sideburns of the 1970s, but earlier, from the nineteenth century. Normally, I couldn’t have cared less how vampires wore their hair. But in this case, it meant they were much older than that vampire in the alley, and hence, more powerful. There were a few more males than females. All had blocks on their minds, damn them.

“I was really hoping we’d finished off the last of them,” I whispered to Titus. “The vampires who were looking for the crystal, I mean.”

“It would appear not.” My father’s voice deepened in that familiar way I knew signaled annoyance. But there was something more behind it this time, a quality I didn’t recognize. Could it be . . . fear?

“No need to whisper; we can all hear you just fine.” The lead vampire smiled and waved. He walked along the cave’s perimeter, running a finger against the stone wall. “Glad you’re all finally here, in fact. Can’t believe this is the old enemy of our dear Callix.” He looked Titus up and down. “I always thought you’d be taller,” he said.

“I’m sure I’ll look taller when I’m standing over your dead body,” my father replied.

Abigail tugged at his jacket sleeve. “Titus, please!” The lead vampire and the others just laughed.

“I don’t think that’s on the program for tonight, Aurelius,” the leader said, shaking his head. Then he fixed his eyes on me. “But we are quite delighted to meet your son. Isn’t that right, everyone?” There were several responses of “Oh, yes!” and “To be sure,” that I had a feeling were sarcastic. “So this is what a mage looks like, eh? Can’t say I’m all that impressed.”