Page 85 of Death Warden
“When I lived for three hundred years, died, and decided to come back as your road mate.”
I chuckle. “I guess I have a lot to think about.”
“Yes, you do, but now we focus on finding this trader.”
He slows and comes to a halt opposite a three-story townhouse with boarded-up windows and a green door with flaky paint. A green minibus is parked in front of the house. The others roar up and park close to the property. I catch the twitch of curtains in the nearby properties and ignore them.
They know to stay out of Grave Spirits business.
Wendall heads up the path and knocks on the door as I pull off my helmet and hang it on Tanner’s handlebars.
The door opens to reveal a petite, dark-haired male. “Oh…Oh, hello. Ha, aha.”
“Lewis, he’s with me.” I raise a hand as I stride up the path.
Lewis’s expression relaxes. “Spectre, oh good. Come in.” He steps back to let us into the bare building.
No carpets, no light fixtures, the place has been stripped. From what Logan tells me, the owner died five years ago and the house is stuck in probate over a will dispute, but Grave Spirits has access due to territory enforcement law.
There are fourteen members in the Circle—always an even number for some reason. There are usually two kinds of Circles: brotherhoods and sisterhoods. Bay View is the only Circle that’s mixed gender and is home to some of the most powerful mages.
Lewis being one of them. He’s also the holder of the Circle artifact, a silver chalice encrusted with rubies and passed down his family for generations. I’ve seen it a couple of times. The metal is etched with intricate designs and symbols.
The huge lounge area has been prepped for the spell and the chalice has been placed on a portable pedestal in the center of the room surrounded by chalk markings. There’s a table by the pedestal with a map spread on it. The Circle members stand around the room, heads bowed. Waiting.
“You should stay out of the room,” Lewis warns. “So as not to disrupt the spell.”
I place myself in the doorway and watch as Lewis takes a position by the pedestal. He places one hand on the chalice and a collective sigh fills the room. From what I know about Circles, they all feed off one powerful artifact instead of having individual ones. They bond to their leader who, in turn, bonds to the artifact, and a closed network is created. Right now, the artifact is ready to pull power from the convergence of leylines beneath this house.
The air hums and Lewis closes his eyes. His free hand hovers over the map, moving back and forth. The other mages sway on their feet. I can feel the power of the leylines as a vibration beneath my feet, and my hellhound senses detect their magic as an acrid scent in the air.
The location spell is working.
My scalp prickles and the back of my brain itches. As the vibration intensifies, a sense of wrongness washes over me.
Behind me, Wendall makes a sound of concern.
The air grows heavy as if gravity has increased its pull, and my bones creak with the effort of keeping my body upright.
“This feels wrong,” Wendall says at the same time as the mages in the room fall to their knees and slap their palms to the wood.
Several cries of alarm fill the room.
“Stop it. Lewis, stop it,” one of the mages says.
“I can’t move,” another cries.
“Can’t…breathe,” someone else gasps out.
Lewis’s body begins to shake. No, this isn’t part of the spell. It can’t be. I try to cross the threshold but I’m pushed back by an unseen force.
Wendall tries to enter the room with the same result. “What the hell?”
Lewis throws his head back, mouth opening wide to emit an eerie moan followed by words uttered in a voice that isn’t his. “Ah, the power. All the power. Give it to me, surrender.”
Oh, shit. It’s him. It’s the trader. It has to be. “Lewis!” I slam against the barrier. “Lewis, you need to break contact with the chalice.”
But Lewis isn’t in control of his body, the trader entity is. I have no idea how, but he’s inside Lewis’s head somehow, controlling him.
