Final Magic (Harbinger P.I. Book 11), page 6
“So, why the faerie genes?” I asked. “If you didn’t mean to kill people, then what did you expect would happen when you introduced those genes into the populace?”
She took a sip of wine. “Our project had been rolling steadily along without any mishaps for years, Alec. The genes were dormant, totally harmless to the hosts’ bodies. Our scientists had developed a chemical compound that would activate them when the time was right. The compound was to be introduced to our pharmaceutical products at the conclusion of Project Shapeshifter, and then a sizeable portion of the world’s population would undergo a fantastic transformation. The preternatural world would no longer be a secret, no longer denied.”
“But you made a mistake, and the activated genes kill the host during the transformation,” I surmised.
“No, that isn’t what happened at all. We haven’t used the compound yet, except in tests. It hasn’t been integrated into any of our products. Not a single one. The genes are activating by themselves.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because there is no longer a link between this world and the world of Faerie.”
“I don’t understand how that would activate dormant genes.”
“Neither did we, at first. Our scientists worked on the problem and came up with the answer. Faerie beings are magical. They draw that magic from the faerie realm, even when they’re here on Earth. As long as the connection between our world and Faerie was open, magic flowed back and forth between both realms. It was only a tiny amount, but it was there nonetheless, like background radiation in the atmosphere. A faerie creature can’t live without drawing on that magic. So the people who transformed were doomed, I’m afraid.”
We were out of town now, driving along a sunlit road with woods on either side. I knew instinctively that Jillian was right about magic being in the atmosphere before the closing of the realms. I’d said as much to Carlton.
“That doesn’t explain why the genes activated in the first place,” I said.
“Yes, it does,” she said. “Starved of magic, the genes activated so that they could survive, in the same way a flower starved of nutrients blooms in a last ditch attempt to be pollinated.”
So sealing off this realm had caused millions of people to be suddenly in danger?
“If Project Shapeshifter had been taken to its conclusion when the words were open, these people would have simply transformed and gone on living,” Jillian said. “It’s only because of what happened five months ago that people are dying. So are you still going to lay the blame for this at the Cabal’s door?”
“The Cabal put the genes out there.”
“And you performed the action that made those genes activate. And now people are dying because of it.”
I looked out of the window, trying to come to terms with the fact that I may have inadvertently put everyone in danger.
“The Society might be too dumb to realize it was you who was responsible for that blast of anti-magic, Alec, but I know the truth. You destroyed the world that once was, and now you’re killing this new world as well.”
I said nothing. I knew she was right. The Melinda Codex had sealed this world from Faerie, and the codex had only been activated because I’d been stupid enough to take Excalibur from Merlin and fight Rekhmire with it. If I hadn’t done that…
If I hadn’t done that, Rekhmire would have taken over the world with his army of dead.
I’d taken the only course of action possible at the time, but the consequences were catastrophic.
“So, as I said, you’re a fixer, Alec. You’ll fix this problem, especially now you that know it’s a problem of your own making.”
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“I have every confidence that you will fix it, Alec. The prophecy says that the barriers between worlds will be taken down again, and if I had to choose one person who I think can make that happen, I’m putting my money on you.”
“What do you get out of this?” I asked her.
She shrugged and sipped the wine. “Everything goes back to normal. Isn’t that enough for a girl to want?”
“You want more than that. The prophecy says that holes will be ripped open between the realms. That sounds like a Cabal member’s wet dream.”
“I can’t deny that such an event has its appeal. Perhaps we won’t have to complete Project Shapeshifter after all. The tears in reality will be enough to wake everyone up to the truth.”
“You’ll still execute the endgame Shapeshifter and distribute that activating compound.”
She chuckled. “You know me too well. Of course I’ll complete the project; it would be remiss not to. All that work done over all those years must come to fruition. At least, with the connection between our word and Faerie restored, the people who transform won’t die. A glorious age is upon us, Alec.”
“Then you’ll have to find a way to fulfill the prophecy, because I’m not going to be responsible for ushering in the age of the Midnight Cabal.”
“Are you trying to fool me, or yourself? Because I know you’ll do it. Especially now I’ve told you that you’re responsible for people dying. You’re not going to have the blood of millions on your hands. You’ll do whatever it takes to stop that from happening. You see, Alec, you may know me but I also know you. And I know you’ll do everything you can to save the world.”
I couldn’t deny it. Not without lying, anyway. I’d tried to help people my whole life and I wouldn’t turn my back on those in need, especially when their predicament had been brought about by my actions.
We were heading back into town now, which I presumed meant our conversation was over.
“About that matter we discussed on the phone,” Jillian said. “Do you know where I might find any Templar treasures to add to my collection?”
“No,” I said, “I don’t.”
“Shame. We could have worked together. Think how much easier it would be to save the world with the power of the Cabal behind you.”
“Then why don’t you do it? You have the power of the Cabal.”
She wrinkled her nose, as if in disgust. “Saving the world isn’t really my thing.”
“And working with you isn’t mine. You double-crossed me when we went to get the Burning Glass.”
“What are you talking about? I was merely making sure you upheld your part of the bargain. You obviously never intended to do that. Then your assistant went crazy and killed three of my men. Not to mention the damage she did to Rosslyn Chapel.”
“That isn’t how I remember it. You magicked ten soldiers into the chapel to take the Burning Glass.”
“As I said, I was making sure you upheld your part of the bargain. You might do business on a handshake and a smile but I like to make sure I get what I’m owed.”
The car came to a stop outside Blackwell Books. I wasted no time in opening the door and getting out.
“Good luck on your quest,” Jillian said, raising her wine glass. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.”
The car drove away and I went into the bookshop. Carlton was serving a customer. When he finished, he waved me over.
“What did she want?” he whispered, so as not to be overhead by the customers.
“To tell me that the sickness and death is going to get worse and that it’s all my fault.”
“Don’t listen to her, Alec. She’s crazy.”
“No, I don’t think so. She’s right; this is all my fault. Where are Felicity and Leon?”
“Leon went home to take another look at those files. Felicity went to her hotel to pack for your trip to France.”
“Okay.”
“So, I guess my vacation days are canceled?”
For a second, I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then it hit me. “Your niece. Carlton, I’m sorry, it slipped my mind.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure you have much more important things to worry about than Jocelyn’s arrival.”
“Close the store for a couple of days,” I said.
He looked confused. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Spend some time with your niece. The store will survive.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am. When I get back from France, we’ll open the coffee house, as we discussed.”
Carlton nodded. “Thanks, Alec. So…you and Felicity are going to France. What’s that all about?”
“There may be a magical item there.”
His eyes widened. “Really? One that wasn’t affected by the anti-magic?”
“Yeah. And there may be more, in other places. When you get time to do some research, start looking into artifacts hidden by the Knights Templar.”
“You think those artifacts still have magic powers?”
“It’s possible.”
“I’ll get on it.”
“Thanks, Carlton. I’m going to go home and pack. Lock up early tonight, if you want. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Safe journey,” he said as I opened the door and left the bookshop.
I got behind the wheel of the Land Rover and started the engine. As I drove home, I thought about the trip to France and what we might find at Fontenay Abbey.
The Spear of Destiny—or the Spear of the New Dawn, or whatever the hell it was called—was dangerous. Its very existence posed a threat to the human race.
Yet it was the only thing strong enough to tear through the barriers between the realms. Doing so would plunge this world into a dark era, where mankind fought for survival against all manner of creatures.
Not doing so meant millions of people would transform into faerie beings and die because they were cut off from Faerie magic.
Any way I looked at it, Hell was about to be unleashed on Earth.
Chapter 9
Felicity arrived at my house early the next morning, with a small pink suitcase in tow. When she came inside and took off her sunglasses, I noticed that her eyes looked tired.
“How did you sleep?” I asked, as I put my own suitcase next to hers by the front door.
“Not well, actually. I was up most of the night, researching the spear.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“Not really. Only that the bloody thing should be left alone. The Templars had the right idea when they locked it behind an Archon Seal.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right about that. You want a coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
There was half a pot in the coffee maker, I filled a mug for Felicity and handed it to her.
“What did Jillian Duval have to say?” she asked.
“She basically told me that everything that’s happening right now is my fault. She seems to think I can fix it somehow, so she gave me a motivational speech.”
“What does she want you to do?”
“Open the realms. If I don’t, more people are going to die. A lot more.” I told her what Jillian had said about Project Shapeshifter and the fact that people were dying because of the absence of Faerie magic.
“She didn’t happen to mention the part of the prophecy that says the barriers between the realms will be torn open and humanity will have to fight for survival?”
“Yeah, she mentioned it. That’s what she wants.”
Felicity rolled her eyes. “Of course she does.”
“But if that doesn’t happen, millions of people are going to die because there’s no Faerie magic in this realm.”
“There’s no easy solution to this.”
“I was thinking. If we learn how the spear works, maybe we can use a fraction of its power to open a small connection between this realm and Faerie. Let the magic back in.”
“We can’t play with the power of that spear, Alec. Remember what happened with Excalibur? The spear is a thousand times more powerful. The Celts had a legend that the spear had been used to wipe out the entire human race at some point in prehistory. We can’t even comprehend how dangerous it is.”
I shrugged. “It was just a thought.”
“We have to hide it. Make sure no one ever gets their hands on it.”
“Got any place in mind?”
“Not yet. Let’s get the damned thing first, and then figure out what to do with it.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
A car horn sounded on the street.
“That’ll be our ride,” I said.
We went outside, where a black limo waited. A balding man in a black suit emerged from the driver’s side and opened the rear doors for us. The man took the cases from us wordlessly and stowed them in the trunk. We slid into the car and he closed the door.
As he got back in behind the wheel, he looked at me in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to Bangor airport, sir. Is there anywhere else you need to stop on the way?”
“No,” I said. “Take us straight there.”
The sooner we got to France, the better. I doubted that the Cabal knew the location of the Spear, but since they’d recently redoubled their efforts to find magic artifacts, they could have stumbled on Fontenay Abbey in some obscure text or treatise.
Felicity and I were quiet during the journey, both of us acutely aware that the driver could hear us. When we did talk, our conversations were about safe topics and mundane things.
The jet was waiting on the tarmac at the airport and as we got out of the car, we were greeted by a man in his fifties with dark hair and a salt and pepper beard. He introduced himself as Neil Lassiter.
“I’ll be accompanying you on the flight to Lyon Airport. If there’s anything you need, just ask.”
“Thanks,” I said, unsure why the Society would send a babysitter on the flight with us. Unless he had some purpose other than making sure our drinks were refilled.
He led us to the metal steps that ascended to the door of the airplane and said, “Please find a comfortable seat. It’s going to be a long flight.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the plane’s whining engines.
Felicity and I went up the steps and into the plane, where a stewardess dressed in a standard uniform that sported a logo of a triangle within a square and the words Mysterium Airlines welcomed us aboard with a warm smile and a sweep of her finely-manicured hand toward the seats, indicating that we could sit anywhere we wanted.
“I’m going to try to get some sleep,” Felicity said as we wandered along the aisle between the plush seats.
We both knew that—just as in the car—we had to keep quiet during the flight. Walls have ears, and so do Society airplanes.
We took seats across the aisle from one another and I fastened my seatbelt as I looked out at the airport.
The runways shimmered in the heat. Ground crew scurried around the planes. Passengers walked across the tarmac in orderly lines, excited to be going on vacation to distant destinations.
Gone were the days of fast travel courtesy of the Blackwell sisters. Our journey to France—a journey that would have taken place in the blink of an eye thanks to the sisters’ transportation spell—would take more than thirteen long hours.
I settled into the seat and tried to get comfortable. The stewardess closed and locked the door, and the captain’s voice came over the tannoy, telling us to fasten our seatbelt because we were about to take off.
There was no sign of Neil Lassiter. Maybe he’d decided to stay on the ground.
The plane got into position on the runway and began to taxi. After a minute or so, the engines roared and I was pushed gently back into my seat as the ground beyond my window rushed by and then fell away as we became airborne.
As the plane climbed, I watched Bangor become smaller and smaller below. Then we climbed higher and the world was gone, replaced by brilliant blue sky and a vista of clouds.
The seatbelt sign dinged and turned off.
I heard movement behind me and turned my head to see Neil Lassiter approaching my seat. He must have come in through the rear door of the plane before take-off.
“Alec,” he said, kneeling in the aisle next to my seat. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Decided to visit France again. You must have enjoyed it the last time you were there.”
“Not really, my vacation was cut short.”
“Yeah, yeah, I think I heard about that.”
His forced nonchalance wasn’t fooling anyone; we were both aware that he knew every detail the Society had gleaned about my trip to Paris.
“Someone died, didn’t they?” he asked, still playing dumb.
“An investigator. His name was Pierre Louvain.”
“Of course, how could I forget? I knew Pierre. We came up through the Academy of Shadows together.”
I nodded, unsure if this detail was true or not.
“Damn shame what happened,” Neil said. “I was interviewed about it a few months after it happened. By the higher-ups in the Society. You know, because I’d known Pierre. The guys who were investigating his death asked me if they knew any reason why someone would want to kill him.”
He paused. I wasn’t sure if this was for dramatic effect, or if he was trying to build suspense. Either way, it wasn’t working; I just wanted him to get to the point.
“I said I had no idea why Pierre would be on anyone’s hit list,” he said. “But I also told them that it had been a good few years since I’d known him, so I had no idea what he’d been up to since his Academy days.”
“Sensible,” I said. “After all, do we ever really know someone else?” I frowned as if in deep thought, but I was just yanking his chain.
He looked confused for a second. “Yeah, yeah, right. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, a conversation came up about magic items. Specifically, the ones that the Templars squirreled away throughout history. And I thought to myself, it’s a shame Pierre Louvain isn’t here. He was a goddamn expert on all that stuff. He used to have maps and charts and God knows what on his dorm room walls. It was all part of his quest—he called it a quest, like he was a goddamn knight or something—to find one of those artifacts.”
If the Society had been talking about Templar treasures, then they’d obviously come to the same conclusion that Felicity and Jillian Duval had; that every item hidden behind an Archon Seal was now back in this world and just as magical as it had ever been.
