Chapter 21

CALIX

Calix left Aubrey and Ethaniel in Richard’s capable hands, knowing his valet would ensure they were fed properly. There was an anxious energy around all of them, fueled by far too little rest and far too much drama. He hated popping the bubble of peace around Rosehill, his one respite from the city.

And Lawton.

Lawton had come to Rosehill a few times before, always at the end of the season. His appearance wasn’t always unwelcome, but it was always unannounced. And the household always felt a tad colder when he did arrive with his one too many bags and curls flopping in his face. They operated like normal, of course, but something about being under the same roof changed their dynamic during those August days. He’d never been able to put his finger on it before now, but hindsight was a terrible thing.

He felt sorry for himself and for Lawton. Two misguided souls stuck in an ouroboros of need and dependency. One would start it, the other would fuel the circle, and around and around they went. In reality, he should be so, so angry. And perhaps he would be in the future, when they weren’t dealing with frightening magical books and some strange cult whose ways and purpose felt incorporeal and yet all too consequential.

Calix pressed his forehead against the cool wood of the guest room door and breathed. Some part of him would always love Lawton, but now that he’d been shown real affection, real desire? He questioned whether it was love, or something like infatuation fueled by loneliness. And in the wake of Lawton’s betrayal, how could anything ever be the same?

Did he want it to be the same? Was there room for Lawton in whatever new life Calix might forge?

Did Lawton deserve it?

Calix finally opened the door, unsure whether he hoped Lawton was awake or not. As the sun moved toward setting, the room had darkened, the shadows long and climbing over the walls. The blanket-covered lump under the bed stirred. Just a single soft sound, but it drew Calix’s attention like a cat after a mouse.

“Lawton?” Calix came into the room, closed the door gently, and then sat at Lawton’s bedside to wait. The only part of Lawton visible was a single pale hand, poking out from the spring green covers. Lawton’s palm was clean but shiny with some kind of salve. The skin was bright pink and angry, like a burn one might get from accidentally touching a hot stove. Without giving it too much thought, Calix plucked up the corner of the blanket and lifted it until he could see fire orange curls, then a long sweep of reddish-brown lashes framing a vicious black eye, down to Lawton’s bruised lips.

He wanted to feel like iron or steel: unforgiving, unyielding. He wanted to feel anger or even pure bewilderment. Not his oldest friend! Lawton could never betray him. Would never betray him. But he had, in so many little ways, some swirling miasma of never repaid loans doused in expensive cologne.

“I should hate you,” Calix whispered as he tucked the blanket in around Lawton’s shoulders, mindful of the large bandage over the right one. “And I can’t. I don’t know who I’m more angry at, you or me. But I would never want to see you like this.” Calix pushed a limp curl off Lawton’s forehead, watching it fall back against the pillow, then turned for the door. In a romance book, Lawton would snag his hand and plead with Calix, teary eyed over how he’d acted. He’d confess that he’d been so selfish, so careless, and that he could only hope Calix would forgive him.

It didn’t happen. Lawton slept, and Calix left the room, letting the door shut without a sound.

Calix retrieved Convergence from the auxiliary vault’s drawers and with it safely back in his satchel, found the others in the kitchen huddled over steaming mugs of tea and talking. The lack of rest was getting to all of them, if he was reading Ethaniel’s hunched posture and the bags under Aubrey’s eyes correctly. Even Richard looked a tad askew, his vest off by one button and his hair sticking up around his ears.

“He’s still unconscious,” Calix said as he entered, grateful for the mug of tea Aubrey pressed into his hands. “I feel better knowing that.”

Ethaniel nodded. “It’s more than understandable, Calix.”

Which Aubrey followed up with, “But we’re ready when you are.”

If he weren’t so bloody tired, Calix might have marveled at how well Aubrey and Ethaniel made up both sides of a coin, the logical and the emotional. Especially since he’d seen them be the opposite, for him and for each other.

Calix led them all into the rose garden, where thorny vines and stems still tainted black by winter’s touch spread out at all angles. He’d let the garden grow a little more wild than his mother had kept it, but there were still clear pathways through to the back, where the manor’s outer wall rose up in forgiving sandstone. It had started to rain while they’d been…otherwise occupied, and the wet seeped beneath his thin jacket. Calix shivered as they came to stop before three stone mausoleums.

The ones in the middle and on the right bore family names, Smythe and Richardson. They were left by the manor’s previous owners, some strange custom Calix couldn’t quite understand. But his mother had felt the pull of it, like a shared history, so the left one bore her family name, Addington. She’d never married, and despite insisting Calix take the boon of his father’s name and lands when they were offered after his death, she’d never wanted anything but the solace of Rosehill. Even Lily’s need for Edna’s companionship had withered toward the end. Edna still wrote, and she was sent a healthy stipend every quarter, but Calix hadn’t seen her since he’d started living in New York a decade ago. The moment he’d arrived in America, Edna had left for Montana, where her family had a ranch. None of that burned quite so badly now, but then it had felt like a betrayal.

Lawton had been extra attentive during that time. Calix had lost himself to pleasures that now wouldn’t appeal, and Lawton had been there every step of the way. Enjoying it all while Calix paid for it, then crawled into Lawton’s bed and let him have his way.

“Dammit,” he muttered, feeling as though he was finally understanding things clearly.

“Calix?” Richard was at his left, lips pursed in concern. “What is it?”

“Just realizing some things about Lawton,” Calix mumbled, having to force his gaze up to look at them all. Shame was a thing scrabbling up his throat now, threatening in its grip.

Richard put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “One thing at a time.”

“Right, well….” Calix approached the left mausoleum and put his hands out, hovering just before the small stone structure’s iron door. The pull of his mother’s power was still there, twisted up in some complicated pattern that felt like no other magic he’d ever experienced. The moment his palms neared the door, Ethaniel sucked in a harsh breath.

“It’s the strangest thing,” Ethaniel said. Calix looked back to see Ethaniel squinting up at the angel perched above the mausoleum’s door. “I swear I saw that rose in her hand spin. Maybe a quarter of a turn? So odd.”

“Calix, may I…” Aubrey gestured to the mausoleum. “I’ll only touch the outer wall. I admit to a curiosity, after what you’ve relayed about your mother’s powers.”

“Of course.” Calix felt the first set of wards slowly melt, then was rocked back by a blast of pain, icepick sharp and right behind his eye. It had felt like this right before…

He saw Aubrey touch the mausoleum’s moss and vine covered walls, then a bright flash…then Aubrey on the ground, his arm buckled under him at an odd angle. The white of bone jutted out from torn fabric and flesh and Aubrey’s cry of pain rang in his ears.

“Aubrey, no!” Calix rushed at Aubrey, whose hand was so close to the wall. He tackled Aubrey to the ground as a sharp crack sounded and a bolt of pure white light shot out. Ozone filled the air and Calix felt his hair dance with static electricity. He looked down to see Aubrey staring up at him, a dazed look on his face. “Aubrey, are you all right?”

Aubrey blinked, worked his jaw, and said, “I’m assuming you didn’t know that would happen.”

Calix flopped onto his back, the satchel hitting him in the hip as he moved. Of course. “I did not, though I should have realized it.”

Footsteps sounded and then Richard and Ethaniel were beside them. Richard had a shovel in his hands and Ethaniel’s fingertips danced with greenish energy. “What happened? My god,” Richard panted out.

“The vault has defenses,” Calix said, then shook his head as he realized that didn’t explain it.

“Your mother entombed herself above her vault?” Ethaniel looked incredulous. “I thought you were merely retrieving some kind of key.”

“It was the only wish of hers we could fulfill, besides keeping Rosehill with me and ensuring no one gained access to the vault unless they were in my presence. I think our other uninvited guest set off the wards,” Calix said, gesturing to the satchel.

Silence

Then…

Aubrey choked out a laugh that bordered on hysterical. “The vault has magical turrets?”

Calix stifled a laugh. It wasn’t funny. At all. It was clearly the exhaustion that made him stifle another, and then give up on muffling the sound. “My mother only told me I’d never have to worry about intruders with ill intent,” he said, hiccuping every few words. “This is insane. This is insane! We should just burn the thing and be done.”

Quick as a snake, Ethaniel held out his hand. “Let’s find out.”

And Calix let him have the bag before pushing to his hands and helping Aubrey to sit up. They sat on the ground, Richard looking as baffled as Calix felt desperate, and watched Ethaniel toss the bag into the middle of a path, about thirty feet from where they sat. “Let’s find out,” Ethaniel repeated, his voice now gravelly, almost growling. With his left hand, he pinched his thumb, index, and middle finger together at the tips, then drew a circle in the air around them with his right. Then he snapped his fingers and red magic flickered to life, which Ethaniel plucked up from his fingers and held in his right palm.

Ethaniel launched the magic at the bag like a wizard out of a fairy story. Flame roared through the air coalescing into a ball, which struck the bag directly. Fire engulfed the bag, crackling and popping and for a long moment, all they could see was fire..

Beside Aubrey, Richard screamed and fell to the ground in a heap.

Enough

Enough

You cannot destroy us…me…with flame

We are stronger than that

Richard kept screaming as blood began to trickle from his nose.

You have underestimated me, Oracle

But you’ve surprised me as well

A truce

Do not attempt that again

Take your valet back

I will hide my nature

I wish to see your trinkets

Truce

The last word felt like more of a question, and Calix latched onto that hope with both hands. It was all he could do while Richard screamed and Aubrey’s hands shook as he tried to tend to the man.

“Fine!” Calix shouted. “You get what you want! No more! Ethaniel, put it out!”

The moment Ethaniel pulled back his power, the screaming stopped.

“He’s alive,” Aubrey said as he listened to Richard breathe. “Calix?”

Ethaniel rushed to grab the satchel while Calix hurried to Aubrey’s side. “No, no, Richard, please,” he said while Aubrey checked Richard over. “Please wake up.”

Richard’s eyes fluttered and a moment later, he was staring up at them, confusion creasing his brow. “It’s all right,” Calix said softly. “We’re going to get you inside.”

Richard was able to get to his feet with some help, but Calix insisted he be the one to walk the man inside. Aubrey seemed to understand and stuck to hovering in their shadow with Ethaniel bringing up the rear. They pulled pillows and blankets from the second guest room, as Richard argued — albeit weakly — that he didn’t want to be alone in a bed that wasn’t his. They set him up on the long, wide sofa in the back parlor while they gathered around a small table to the side, eyeing the satchel warily.

Calix tried to explain what happened, but it only made sense after he told them about Convergence’s threat. “If we can’t get it into the vault, then what do we do?” Ethaniel asked. “This is pointless.”

“I think Convergence means to hide its nature from the vault,” Aubrey said after a long moment. “That’s what I take from its fractured words to Calix, anyways.” Aubrey’s gaze went thoughtful. “Sentient objects almost always have a force of will, and we’ve seen that with this one. But there’s something about the way it speaks that—” Aubrey suddenly sat up straight and pinned Calix with a stare. “It said us.”

“It did. My god, it did.” The frustration had been building in Calix’s chest to this moment, making him want to chuck the book into the lake, or throw it into one of the many fireplaces in Rosehill. But that main voice had slipped up and said us.

Without thinking on it any longer, Calix pulled the book from the charred satchel, letting it thump onto the table. It looked no worse for wear from the fire. Well, at least it was telling the truth there, Calix thought with a snarl.

“Calix?” Ethaniel looked at him worriedly.

“I’m done panicking over this damn thing,” Calix said. “I think we all are.” He flipped the book open, letting it fall where it may. The pages were still blank, the paper thickly cut and still pristine. If it hadn’t been for the voice in their heads, Calix would have thought it a beautiful specimen ripe for someone’s diary.

“I want to talk to…whoever you are. The main voice. The one doing all this,” Calix said, each word boosting his confidence. “You know a lot, but we don’t know anything about you. That seems a tad unfair.”

All three of them jumped back when a ghostly visage clawed its way from those very pages Calix had been admiring. A sound like thunder reverberated through Calix’s ribs and he watched, transfixed, while the specter coalesced from gray-green mist into something resembling a face and two withered hands. The hands gripped the bottom edge of the book as though it clung to a cliff, while the specter worked its jaw, then stared at them with black pits for eyes.

“You may call me Convergence.” The voice echoed around them and as it did, the magical sconces on the walls were snuffed out. The darkness of late day shadowed them all, its chill seeping into Calix’s clothes and then deeper, like a coat of frost over his bones.

“So you do talk outside of our heads,” Aubrey said, his expression a mixture of fascination and horror. Calix could see the museum curator snap into place and if he hadn’t been as equally horrified by what they were seeing, he would have loved to watch Aubrey work. “You aren’t like other sentient objects, are you? There’s more to you than one voice.”

The ghostly head turned to Aubrey. “I am the strongest,” it rasped. “But there are others.”

Aubrey muttered, “That’s one way to answer my question, or not,” pulling a pained noise from Ethaniel. Calix moved closer to him and Ethaniel shot him a grateful look. “How are there so many of…you in there?” Calix asked.

“I do not know.”

Calix figured in light of that, he might as well be blunt. “What do you want?”

One of the clawed hands rose up to point at Calix. “Freedom, Oracle. Freedom. Do you not value freedom?”

Around them that word echoed. Freedomfreedomfreedom. A wave of it rolled over and through them until it rang in Calix’s ears. The other voices chimed in to the cacophony and Calix’s stomach turned.

“What the hell does that mean?” Ethaniel said as he stepped back. The man looked wan and was clutching his midsection as though he might be sick. Aubrey rushed to Ethaniel’s side and Calix waved them back.

This book was his problem. He would deal with it, one way or the other.

Despite the chill over his body, despite his gorge rising, Calix pulled up a chair and sat directly in front of the book, as if he were pushing himself into its space. He heard the others’ objections but remained true to his course.

“I want to make a deal,” Calix said, as sure in his words as the steel in his voice. He was angry and tired and he wanted this to be done. “But it means some concessions on your end, Convergence. I won’t pay the entire price. Do you understand me? Or so help me, I will throw you into the vault to never, ever see the light of day. And never taste your precious freedom. Are we clear?”

The room grew colder but Calix held his ground. Something prickled over his skin and the zap of electricity buzzed in his ears. He held firm.

“What do you propose?” Convergence asked finally.

Calix wouldn’t let it see his relief, but his guard was still up. They couldn’t trust this thing. And they didn’t know enough about its history, its abilities, but the danger inherent in ignorance could be solved. Aubrey and Ethaniel were with him. He wasn’t alone.

“What if we can separate you from the others, from the book?” Calix asked. Immediately, he heard Aubrey and Ethaniel protest. This had been the plan all along, but he understood why now they hesitated. “What if we can pull you away from them? It’s not complete freedom, not yet. But it’s a step forward. But you cannot, will not, harm anyone here again. Do you understand? We are willing to make a large sacrifice for you, but you cannot bite the hand that feeds. Or so help me, I will find a way to destroy you.”

Calix paused, letting his words sink in. He felt jittery from the rush of adrenaline and fear, but he held. He had to.

After a few moments that lasted an eternity, Calix said, “Do we have an accord?”

Instead of out loud, Convergence spoke once again in his mind. “Agreed.”