The Magician: An Epic Dark Fantasy Novel: Book One of the Rogue Portal Series (11 page)

              "GALVESTON!" said a voice. It was the same voice he'd heard from the bedroom when Stuart was attacked from the book. The same several-in-one voice that sounded demonic. It wasn't coming from the being's mouth. In fact it seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at the same time.

              Connor choked to reply, but couldn't.

              "
You have something that is not yours. Return it, or die!"

              Immediately Connor thought of the pocket watch around his neck. He held it up with one hand, as though to say "Oh, this?"

              "OPEN IT!" Stuart shouted.

              Connor didn't think twice. He opened the pocket watch. A brilliant blue light shot out of it like a blade and went through the being, who immediately dropped Connor, sending him to the ground with a
thud
, causing his knees to drive into the wooden floor. A sharp pain shot through his knee, through his leg, and gave up somewhere in his ankle.

              The being stumbled backwards, its stitched eyes bursting open, sending trickles of blood to the floor. The blood did not stain the wood, but rather it steamed and sizzled, and then evaporated, like oil in a saucepan. Cavernous, gaping openings where eyes should have been exposed more blood and tissue. A giant beetle emerged and then fell to the ground. The being shrieked and screamed, causing Connor's body to shudder and goose pimples to surge across his flesh, sending his hair on end like soldiers ready for battle.

              And then, just as suddenly as it began, the being disappeared in a plume of black smoke and the beetle scurried under the door, flattening itself. Still shaking, Connor shut the pocket watch with one hand and felt his neck with the other, comforted by the fact that he didn't sense any evidence of serious injury.

              "You saw it
that
time, right?" Stuart said, finally venturing out of the corner into which the entity had thrown him.

              "Oh hell yeah."

              "You okay?" Stuart approached him, offering him a hand.

              "Yeah, I'm good." Connor took Stuart's hand and pulled himself up, rubbing his knee.

              "I think perhaps we should make finding out what those things are to the top of our research list."

              "I agree, but how much success are we really going to have with Googling "head holding scary dude"?

              Stuart laughed in a whisper and made his way to the bed. Connor looked at him, suddenly curious about something.

              "How did you know that opening the pocket watch would get rid of it?"

              Stuart shrugged almost bashfully.

              "I don't know, honestly. Call it a hunch."

              "Damn good one," Connor laughed.

              "I suppose it was," he said.

              Connor looked at the clock. Two o'clock in the morning. They had agreed to meet at the library at eight, and Connor still hadn't taken his shower.

              "Hey Stuart, I'm going to see if I can finally grab a shower and then I'm headed to sleep. We gotta be at the library early."

              "Good deal. I'm going to do a little bit of research online and see if I can find out anything about that thing," he said.

              "Alright then."

              Connor gathered his things: towel, shampoo, clothing. They were right where he'd left them on his bed after the incident with Stuart earlier. As he left the room he paused for a moment and turned back to face Stuart.

              "Hey Stu," he said with a half-smile.

              "Yeah!" he replied, already pulling out his laptop.

              "Leave that damn whale book alone while I'm gone, would ya?" he said.

              Stuart laughed.

              "Sure thing. Haven't touched it and don't plan to. It's right where I..."

              Stuart's expression made a dramatic shift, his complexion transforming into a nearly translucent shade of pale. Connor follow his gaze.

             
Moby Dick
was no longer on the ground where they'd left it, but opened neatly on the desk with a page ripped from the center.

SIXTEEN

⌛

Eight o'clock came earlier than Connor had anticipated. Stuart had stayed awake most of the night researching. He'd long abandoned his research regarding what kind of entity had attacked Connor and had instead relegated to searching an electronic copy of
Moby Dick
to see what page had been removed. He was convinced the missing page was a clue. Connor was convinced of no such thing, but didn't blame Stuart for looking into the matter. After all, at this point any information they had was better than none.

              Connor had finished his shower and finally laid down to sleep at around three o'clock in the morning. He felt as though his very life force had been sucked out of him. Stuart had still been awake, sitting at the desk between their beds. He'd asked if his working there would keep Connor from sleeping. He'd said no. Under normal circumstances that would have been a very gracious lie. But on that particular night it was true. He thought he could probably lay down in an active railway depot and sleep like a baby.

              When Connor's alarm woke him at seven-thirty, Stuart was sitting at the desk, researching. He wasn't entirely sure whether Stuart had gotten up at some ungodly hour, or if he'd simply neglected sleep altogether. Judging by his appearance, Connor suspected the latter to be true. Stuart was wearing the exact same clothing he'd been wearing the day previous. But the second , more compelling piece of evidence was the appearance of bright red rings rimming his eyelids. Connor couldn't blame him. They all wanted answers.

              "You find out anything interesting?" Connor asked once he was reasonably awake.

              "Not much," said Stuart hoarsely. His voice sounded hollow.

              "Did you sleep?"

              "No."

              "Well, if you want to catch some z's before coming to the library I understand. I can text you and tell you where we are."

              "Do you think I care about SLEEP right now!" Stuart snapped, finding his voice again. Connor literally jumped.

              "No...I mean...I was just..."

              "You wanna leave me here so that..that...THING can come and get me, don't you?! One less man! One less person to contend with!"

              Stuart was shouting, all but foaming at the mouth. His eyes became bulgy, as though he'd somehow managed to tuck in his bottom eyelid. It reminded Connor of a possessed Chihuahua. His gaze was frantic, the accusatory and defensive look of a man on the brink of sanity.

              "What the hell, man? Snap out of it!"

              Without warning, Stuart leapt out of his chair like an animal, toppling it to the floor, and grabbed Connor by the shirt, planting him against the headboard, his face mere inches away from Connor's.

              "DON'T YOU TELL ME TO SNAP OUT OF IT! YOU! IT'S YOU! YOU'RE THE ONE THEY WANT! SO YOU BETTER NOT THINK FOR A SECOND YOU'RE GOING TO LEAVE ME TO BE THE SCAPEGOAT! THE...THE...THE FALL GUY!"

              He dissolved into angry, manic laughter that escaped from his lips in uneven, ragged bursts. His eyes feverishly searched Connor's, and he bared his teeth. For a brief moment Connor saw his eyes flash a different color...a luminescent amethyst.

              "Dude, what's gotten into you?"

              "You just don't GET IT, do you? GALVESTON!"

              Stuart's voice had changed into a pinched, impish yipping sound mixed with the demonic growl of a possessed wolf.

              "You think I'm stupid?! That we're all stupid! Well let me tell you something. It'll be YOUR body hanging when this is over!"

              At this Stuart let out a prolonged shriek that was almost a howl, but that sounded like a demonic crow at the same time. Connor wanted to punch him, tackle him, make him pay for using his father's death against him. But just as he was about to lunge he had another idea. Stuart's idea. He opened the pocket watch around his neck.

              A band of blue light shot out of the water and formed a wall, which moved rapidly toward Stuart, knocking him backwards with such force that it almost brought Connor along with him given that Stuart still had his hands on his shirt.

              Stuart landed, crumpled, on the ground like someone's old laundry. A bird-shaped mist rose out of him and shot out the window. It was amethyst and black - the same shade of amethyst Stuart's eyes had been just a moment before. Connor panicked, fearing his friend might be dead or unconscious.

              But then Stuart gasped and opened his eyes, looking around like a small child who had fallen while walking and couldn't quite figure out how he'd gotten on the floor. Blinking, he looked up at Connor and jumped slightly. Connor realized he must have looked terrified and frazzled and tried to regain composure as quickly as he could.

              "Did I fall asleep here?" Stuart asked.

              Connor's mind raced. He didn't want to lie to him, but at the same time he wasn't sure how to explain what had just happened. Nor was he convinced that Stuart's knowledge of what had occurred would be of any use to him. Or to any of them. In fact, given Stuart's diminished state and lack of sleep, he thought it was best to, at the very least, wait until after he'd gotten some sleep to tell him.

              "I guess so, man," he said, laughing as naturally as he could. Stuart chuckled and shook his head.

              Looking to his right, he saw the chair that he had knocked over when he'd pounced on Connor. For a moment Connor thought Stuart was about to put the pieces together. Realize that much more had gone on than Connor was telling him. Demand answers, perhaps. But instead he laughed.

              "I must have been so tired I fell straight out of my chair asleep."

              "Must have," Connor laughed.

              "I guess those things happen," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

              "Hey Stu. What's the last thing you remember?"

              Stuart picked himself up off the ground, straightening his crumpled clothing as best he could. Scratching his head, he picked up the chair and sat on the edge of his bed.

              "You came back from the shower, I started researching and...I don't know. I was researching
Moby Dick
to see what the missing page was and...then..."

              His eyes glassed over as he looked at and then through , then beyond the floorboards.

              "It's okay. I was just wondering," Connor said, and Stuart snapped back to reality.

              "Let me see where I left off," said Stuart.

              "Good idea. I'll get changed real quick and we can head out to the library."

              Connor threw on a sweatshirt and jeans and threw the covers over his bed, making it in a haphazard way. He grabbed his phone and noticed a text from Kit.

             
Hey sleeping beauties, you coming?

             
Connor replied.

             
Yes, Maleficent, we'll be right there.

             
Her response was an emoji of a hand with a choice finger raised. He returned a smiley face. Kit was a hard-ass, but she was a decent person, too. He liked that combination about her. Of course, he also felt like there was a lot she wasn't telling them. Even after her revelation about her past, he still felt the gnawing of an intuitive voice that said
that's not even the half of it.
And under any other circumstance it wouldn't have been his business. He wouldn't have needed to know. Would have left it alone. But this was all of their business now, and nobody could afford for the other person to have secrets.

              The hypocrisy hit him hard, closing his throat.

              Putting his phone in his pocket he turned to face Stuart, but Stuart had beat him to it, looking him dead in the eye.

              "What aren't you telling me?" he asked with sad eyes.

              Connor let out a defeated sigh.

              "Look, I'm sorry, I..." then he stopped. "Wait, how did you...?"

              "Because apparently the last thing I did before I zoned out was start my webcam. And I know you were asleep through most of it. But you were wide awake during the last bit."

              I know, I know, I'm sorry. I was going to tell you. Really, I was. After you'd gotten some sleep. You know."

              "Connor I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't have the luxury of time," he said, "or secrets."

              "I know. Man, I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

              Stuart's expression cut Connor to the core. He wasn't angry. He wasn't even upset. It was far worse than that. He was hurt. And for a moment it crossed his mind that the feral, rabid, wild Stuart just might have been better.

              "Alright," Stuart finally said, "I hope not."

              Stuart rubbed his eyes under his glasses before continuing.

              "And on that note, there's something you need to see."

              Stuart motioned to the computer screen. Connor walked to the desk and leaned against it, both palms on the top, while Stuart sat in the chair. Taking a deep breath, Stuart pulled another chair from the side of the desk and passed it to Connor.

              "You're gonna want to set down," he said.

              Connor didn't protest. Instead, he sat down and eyed Stuart cautiously. As he moved the mouse to press play, Stuart's hands shook, and he swallowed hard. Finally, he clicked to begin the video.

              The video began innocently enough. Stuart sitting at the computer, brow furrowed, researching intently. Slight clicking as he navigated through screens and sites looking for information. The background was almost completely black, and Stuart was illuminated in a milky glow emanating from the computer screen. As he scanned through various web pages, flashes of nearly visible text and various colors flickered across his glasses like an overhead projection. It went on like this for the first several minutes. Connor had just begun to wonder whether or not Stuart had actually seen anything out of the ordinary at all, or had simply been the victim of sleep-deprived hallucinations. But then he saw a form begin to materialize in the background.

              At first Connor thought the camera had simply caught him returning from the shower room. But then he looked at the time stamp and realized he'd been in bed for at least an hour by the time this video had been taken. The form continued to materialize and details began to emerge. There was a glint. Then a top hat appeared. And before the figure was far enough into the light of the computer monitor so as to become visible and recognizable, he knew who it was.

              Rumsfeld.

              Stuart couldn't have seen him, of course. But he must have sensed something because he raised his head from typing and cocked it, like a dog who had heard a noise but wasn't exactly sure what it was or where it had come from. He must have decided that it was nothing to worry about, because he shook his head dismissively and continued researching. 

              "Such the diligent student," Rumsfeld said in a slow, sardonic tone.

              Stuart spun around to look at the source of the voice and opened his mouth to scream. But just as he did, his entire mouth was sealed shut. Blended right into the rest of his skin. It was as though a sculptor had chiseled out his form including everything from the nose up, but had merely smoothed over the rest of the face, not feeling that a mouth was of any importance. As Stuart struggled to scream, Rumsfeld flicked his hand and ropes appeared, binding Stuart to the chair.

              "There won't be any need for speaking, Dearie, you just listen."

              Rumsfeld looked more sinister than Connor had ever seen him before. Perhaps it was the odd electronic glow of the laptop, or the shadows it produced. But even then, Connor was taken aback by the expression on Rumsfeld's face. He continued.

              "You and your friends are part of something much, much bigger than you realize. And while you think it's just about you, it's not. Your friend Connor here has something valuable. Something that belongs to us. And today you unwittingly showed him how to use that thing as a weapon."

              Rumsfeld bent down, placing one hand on either side of Stuart's chair, coming face to face with him.

              "And I. Don't. Appreciate it."

              He spat each word as its own sentence. Then, he stood up again as though an invisible puppeteer had righted him without warning. His expression turned to one of sardonic playfulness, like a cat playing with a bird before devouring it.

              "Now, Stuart, I believe we can come to an...agreement. Don't you?"

              Stuart nodded furiously, staring at Rumsfeld with terrified eyes.

              "Oh, good. I'm so glad. It's not going to be hard. I'll even help you."

              From behind him another figure began to emerge. As it became clearer Connor thought it looked familiar. Then, he saw the feathered cape, the long black dress, and the glowing amethyst eyes. The woman from the vision of his father. The woman that Rumsfeld had called Eleanor.