Fly by Midnight (7 page)

“Technically, the basement isn’t open to the public. Not many witches get to see down here,” January said. “Plus, after that incident two and a half centuries ago with the dragon and losing so many of my precious artifacts to the fire breathed by those ruthless beasts, I realized it’s always prudent to protect my most important items.”

“Makes sense,” Honora said.

January grabbed her arm, twisting her jacket tightly. “Whatever you’re up to, you can’t let them get through. What’s out there is too terrible to imagine. Whatever’s brought you here, you have to stop it, before it’s too late.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I’ve got this.” Honora fell back on bravado whenever she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. The simple missing person’s case was turning darker by the second. She curled up in an old worn armchair, tucking her legs under her.

January draped a knitted throw over the younger witch’s lap and pointed her wand at a small stone fireplace, which erupted in a blazing fire. “It gets a little chilly down here. Take your time, and I’ll be upstairs if you need me. I hope the book serves you well.”

Honora read through the pages, trying to understand the witches and wizards who dedicated their lives to protecting the witching world. She, like most witches, took her safety for granted. There were dangers in Everland, like in all societies; dark and light were essential, keeping balance, but she hadn’t realized the dangers that existed on the other side of the wall.

A few months ago, she and her sisters used an old family heirloom, a scrying mirror, to spy on a dark wizard called the Darklander, who lived out in the Dire Woods. He supported an underground faction of wizards who wanted to reunite the witching and Otherworld. Some of the Darklander’s followers even used magic to physically transform their appearance with traits of Otherworldly creatures. Could his minions be helping the creatures of the Otherworld bring down the wall?

The magical spells in
The Manual of Protection
were advanced, even completely foreign, to her. The pages were filled with spells to repel any magical creature she could think of, from keeping flying beasts like dragons and raptors at bay to avoiding an infestation of vampires to warding off a traveling pack of werewolves. There were guards against ghouls and goblins and repellants for trolls, ogres, and every kind of woodland spirit.

From what Honora could glean from the book, four wardens were on duty at all times, but their ranks were many. One was stationed at each direction of the compass—north, south, east, and west—plus another stationed at the center, called the inventor. The exact locations were not listed. It also didn’t indicate how many wardens there were in total, but she assumed there had to be dozens.

Talk about a secret society. The wardens were the biggest deterrent to an invasion of Everland. The idea of creatures chipping away at the wall, trying to break into their world, both frightened and angered Honora. Was their way of life so fragile? A dull ache was forming behind her eyes. She had to get out of the basement, get some fresh air, and clear her head.

A loud bang from upstairs startled her. A scream shattered the air.

With the book tucked under her arm, Honora jumped to her feet and took the stairs two at a time, making her way back to the main floor. She peered around the corner. “January?” she asked in a low voice. “Everything all right up here?”

“No,” the shop’s owner mumbled. January was slumped on the floor behind the counter, with a bloody red gash on her forehead.

Honora raced to her side. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was putting some things away and all of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my head.”

“Take it easy,” Honora said, helping January to her feet, but her senses were on high alert. “Was it a robbery?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m fine. Just be careful. I don’t know where he went.” She pulled out of Honora’s grasp, her eyes flashing. “Watch out! He’s behind you!”

Honora caught his reflection in an old mirror. A tall and pale wizard dressed in black leather lurched toward her, but she spun around at the last second and blocked his punch with the book, deflecting his fist.

He reared back and threw a counterblow, this time grazing Honora on the forehead and sending her off balance and stumbling into a shelf. Seeing an opportunity, the wizard charged forward, grabbed Honora, and threw her at a display table. He swooped down, snatched up
The Manual of Protection
, and raced out of the shop.

Honora jumped to her feet. “No! He took the book!” She ran over to January, who had climbed up on her stool, pressing a handkerchief to her forehead.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Go get it!” the older witch urged.

That was all the encouragement Honora needed, and she flew out the door. Her boots clipped across the pavement in quick pursuit. Cat and mouse was one of her favorite games. Honora stayed close behind him and summed him up with a glance—he had white hair, a lanky build, no visible weapons, and he matched the description of the Hexer following Harper. Anger built inside her. She couldn’t let him escape with the book, especially after attacking January to get it. She lifted off the ground, flying up behind him.

“Hey, creep! You like attacking and robbing witches?” She swung her short staff and hit him with a bolt of magic that catapulted him across the hood of a hovercraft and into the street.

He bounced off the ground and righted himself within seconds. Talk about good reflexes. With a look of vengeful glee, the wizard pulled out two ebony wands from his belt loops and mumbled a spell as magical energy formed in glowing strands from the tips, twisting into a net.

A net she had no intention of being caught in.

Working with one wand was tricky enough, but two was downright talented. The Hex Division was known for recruiting some seriously skilled wizards. She held out her palm as a ball of energy formed in her hand. The spell was a combat energy bomb and was one of her favorite magical weapons—fast, maneuverable, and could knock a wizard off his feet.

His spell, on the other hand, was slow to materialize, so she seized the opportunity and hurled the sphere of glowing blue energy right in his face. But as the sphere was about to hit him, a vortex formed in the netting of his outstretched wands and absorbed her magic like a gaping mouth. Honora immediately pulled up another sphere and then another, hurling them at the Hexer, but each sphere got sucked into the black hole, swallowing up her attacks no matter which direction she came at him.

Not bad for a defensive spell.

He grinned, sending a flare of annoyance through her. Time to fly.

Honora ascended quickly, taking cover under the lip of an overpass. She held her staff in both hands and watched the Hexer. He was gazing around the crowds and searching the skies. He was powerful and would be a tough fight for her on her own. She should cut her losses and head back to the shop, but her stubbornness wouldn’t let her retreat.

“Hey, up here!” she yelled, and spun a small whirl of air his way, blowing him off balance. She shot a bolt of energy from her staff, and the Hexer went tumbling down the street. Drifting closer, she hoped to dive down, grab the book, and get out quick and neat.

“I have a message for you,” he said, but the look on his face was pure venom. “Stay away from the wardens and the wall or you’ll regret it.”

“What business is it of yours what I do? Last time I checked, Everland was a free world,” she said. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you, and I want it back.”

Wands at the ready, he spooled magic from the tips like two whips, snapping the air around her. A stinging sensation burned her skin. She used her staff to twist the long tendrils around the wood while she spoke a neutralizing spell, lessening his magic. She had him, pulling him closer. One of the tendrils snapped, and his arm flew back, a wand falling to the pavement. He gained his footing and doubled the effort in his remaining wand. But it was too late.

Her muscles burned. Honora poured all her mental focus into dissolving his spell and spooling his magic around her staff. Once the magic coiled, the glowing energy dulled. Her focus was strong. She was winning the magical tug of war.

Sweat beaded on his face. He struggled. She pulled him in closer, seeing a flicker of defeat in his creepy eyes. Suddenly the glowing whip snapped, and they both fell to the ground. She recovered quickly and hovered in the air above him, but he sprang at her, wrapping his arms around her legs. From inside his jacket, he pulled a sleek metal band and cinched her ankles together.
Leg irons!

She plummeted, unable to maintain her altitude. The Hexer’s leg irons were too strong. She couldn’t even get off a good kick. Her stomach dropped, and she wasn’t sure who made her angrier—the Hexer for trapping her, or herself for letting him snag her so easily.

Damned Hexer.

He tackled her and straddled her like a mule. A sick grin curled up his thin lips, making her want to punch him in the face. She thrashed with her entire body. “No!” she screamed, but he twisted her arm harder behind her back. A jolt of pain traveled up her shoulder. Sweat streamed down her neck. He was stronger than he looked.

“Stay out of council business,” he hissed through square blunt teeth. “Or next time, this is going to hurt a lot more.”

That’s when an explosion of magic hit him in the back, and he went flying over her head. Honora rolled and kneeled up, grabbing the book off the pavement. January came striding down the block, wand in hand, a spool of attack spells pouring from her lips. She struck again, sending the Hexer rolling in a heap down the street. She raised her wand, but he jumped up and ran down the street as far away from her as possible.

January knelt by her friend’s side and brushed the hair out of her face. Honora tried to hand
The Manual of Protection
back to her, but she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I don’t want that thing back in my shop. You take it. Do whatever you want with it. I never want to see that book again.”

“I’ll buy the knife, too. You were right. My job is dangerous.”

Luckily for Honora, January had some enchanted bolt cutters and spared her the humiliation of having to call “Detective Undress Me” to get the irons off. She crawled to her feet, bruised inside and out. A cut on her brow stung, and her arm muscles began to stiffen with a dull ache. She still had no idea where to find Jonathan Rainer. The only thing she knew for sure was that Hex Division was working against her.

7

D
igging through her medicine cabinet, Honora found the tiniest and most pathetic bandage for the cut on her forehead. Her supplies of healing remedies were sorely lacking. After a long, strange day and a hot shower, Honora could think of no better place to go and do a little research and clear her head than her sister Clover’s house in the Meadowlands. She even decided to skip the long flight out and used the portal in the old oak tree along a connecting wooded path. Honora walked the stone walkway to the “pumpkin house.” The nickname seemed appropriate for an old-world-style house with pitched roofs, wide porches, black shutters, and faded orange-colored siding. She didn’t bother knocking on the front door, but took to the air and floated up to the third-story turret.

Honora peered in the window like a floating, ghostly voyeur. Her sister was propped up on a velvet settee, surrounded by silk pillows, like a fairy tale queen on a throne. Leaning on a lap desk, Clover scribbled furiously across a piece of parchment, her fingers stained with ink, her face so close to the paper that a black smudge marred her pert nose. A forest of crumpled paper balls and a half-dozen wine bottles littered the floor around her. Clover both cleaned and drank recreationally, so the wine bottles didn’t bother Honora. The place always looked worse than it was.

After a few seconds of listening to her sister mumble to herself in different character voices, Honora decided to make her presence known with a little tap on the window and heaved it open.

“I knew you were there the whole time. Brrr! Get in here and close that window.” Clover rubbed her arms against the chilly air flowing into the room. She crawled out from under her pile of papers and nudged some trash aside with her foot. “I need to hire a witch with some serious cleaning spells up her wand.” She cringed at her surroundings.

Honora drifted inside and kicked a wine bottle out of her landing spot. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s starting to look like a weasel nest in here.” After closing the window, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her brow in mock horror.

“When have you ever seen a weasel nest?” Clover asked, tilting her head to the side in an innocent yet inquisitive manner. “I’ve heard weasels are very clean and cuddly.”

“Ha! Hardly. I’m imagining a lot of chewed-up paper and musky smell.” Honora wrinkled her nose. “What would your fans say if they saw the sorry state of your writing domicile?”

Clover had a gorgeous office on the first floor, but Honora knew her sister really liked to write up in her tall turret, high above the real world. There was a tiny fireplace on one wall and a desk shoved into one corner, but her overstuffed chaise lounge was where she dreamed up her bestselling series,
Spellbinders
.

“My fans will never see my office. Never ever. Secrecy is my specialty. I am a word witch of mystery.” Her creative
persuasion
of storytelling was a closely guarded secret, and only a trusted few knew she was the famous Cassandra Reason.

She shook cookie crumbs out of the loose velvet tunic she was wearing over a pair of worn jeans. “Hey, come closer.” Clover’s brow pinched with concern. “What happened to you?” she asked, spotting the cut on Honora’s forehead.

“It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry. Just a little tussle with a Hexer,” Honora said. “Have I told you how much I can’t stand Hexers? But that’s not why I’m here.”

“What’s up?” Clover asked. “I would have washed my hair if I knew you were coming.” Her curly blonde mane was tangled up on her head in a messy bun.

“I need your help with some witch lore.”

“Oh, fun! You came to the right place, sister.”

Honora knew that if anyone could help her with the mysterious manual, it was Clover. Stories, myths, and legends had fascinated her since they’d been young children, and her library was second to none. She collected old books on just about every subject imaginable.

A wizard in his early twenties with tousled blond hair and green eyes padded into the room. Derek was Clover’s invaluable assistant and was the order behind her creative chaos. He managed her career, making sure her books got to the printer on time and handling all of her press, and he kept the bestselling author thriving by reminding Clover to eat, sleep, and not work herself to death.

“I finished sending out your edited manuscript. Can I get you two anything? When was the last time you ate, Clover? Tell the truth,” he said, a look of disapproving skepticism on his cute face.

“Do cookies count as food?”

“No,” Derek said in a frustrated huff. “You need something from more than one of the four food groups, and contrary to popular belief, sugar isn’t one of them.”

Clover dramatically threw her arm across her forehead. “All right. Maybe a little something warm and cheesy wouldn’t kill me.”

Derek gave his boss a salute and hurried off. Clover was infamous for her disasters in the kitchen. Cooking spells were not her forte, and though she’d tried to learn over the years, after setting her own drapes on fire twice, she decided it was best to let others handle food preparation.

“That young wizard spoils you.” Honora shook her head with a grin, but Clover was too busy staring at her forehead to pay any attention to what she was saying.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? Come, and let me put a real bandage on that nasty cut.” Clover headed down the winding stairwell and stopped off in the second-floor bathroom. Clover rummaged in the medicine chest. “I picked up a great healing potion at Vivi’s shop that treats swelling and bruises. It has arnica in it.”

Honora touched her hairline and felt the tender welt that had formed since the fight, which she’d done a good job of ignoring until then. She sighed and relented, plopping down on the edge of the giant claw-foot tub while her sister pulled her hair back and gently dabbed the potion on her skin. “Now, spill it. I want to know who gave you this goose egg.”

It was no use hiding anything from her sister, so Honora told her the whole sordid tale of her new case and the fight over
The Manual of Protection
.

Clover twisted up her bee-stung lips the way she always did when she was in deep thought. “Let’s get something to eat first, and then we’ll see what we can find out about this manual, which, from what you’ve told me, hasn’t lived up to its name.”

Within minutes, Derek had presented a makeshift feast of fluffy omelets stuffed with mushrooms, onions, and bacon, covered in melted cheese.

“Oh, be still, my heart,” Clover said, leaning her face inches from the plate and sniffing deeply as the two sisters took their seats around the big farm table in the kitchen. “It smells divine.”

“I’ve been working on a few cooking spells.” Derek shrugged bashfully. “I thought I would use you as my guinea pigs. It’s breakfast for dinner.”

“I always wanted to be a guinea pig for a chef. You’re too good to me, Derek.” Clover dug into the fluffy omelet, shoveling bite after bite into her mouth.

After finishing off their food, the sisters headed into Clover’s impressive library. All the walls were lined with shelves packed with books.

“I’m just lucky to have this thing,” Honora said, placing the manual on a huge oak desk and stroking the cover. “I’ll never forgive that Hexer for attacking January. But she did get even when she struck him in the back with a blasting spell that threw him to the pavement. You should have seen her.” Honora drifted over to the bookshelves, smiling at the memory of the older witch taking the Hexer to task.

Clover stood on a tufted footstool and teetered as she struggled to pull down a huge volume that was bigger than her own head.

“Let me help you with that,” Honora said, grabbing the book out of Clover’s hands before her sister could topple over. Examining the cracked spine, Honora noted that it was an old history book.

“We know that the manual was issued to the wardens protecting the wall of Everland. Now we need to know where. What you’re really looking for is a locale—a setting.” Clover licked her thumb and flipped through the thick tome. She was totally in her element, her eyes scanning the pages hungrily. “Fascinating. Your job deals with the stuff I only dream about…well, and then write about.”

“Believe it. This case is the most unusual I’ve done in a long time, and I’ve worked on some strange cases. Now do you see why I need your help? I’m in new territory here. I have this gut feeling that Jonathan Rainer is into serious protection magic, and that can only mean the witching wall. My instincts tell me I’ve got to find it to find him.”

Many witches considered the wall a fairy tale—a story to assure all of Everland that their world was safe, hidden behind a barrier of magical protection. Honora was confirming that not only was the wall real, but the witches and wizards who protected it were in danger.

“Wands, wards, wardens. Nothing.” Clover ran her finger down the page, listing off topics. Her gaze shifted back to the bookcases. She pointed to a high shelf. “Where’s my wand?” She frantically patted down her pockets but found nothing. She shifted through some pages on the table and looked around with a frustrated groan. “Derek!” she yelled. “Have you seen my wand? I can never find it.”

“Check your hair.” Derek’s voice filtered into the room.

Clover grabbed her messy bun. “There it is.” She blushed and pulled a thin birch wand out of her mass of pinned-up curls. With a flick of her wrist and a whispered spell, she wrangled a large burgundy-colored volume from a top shelf and floated it down to the desk. “Here we go.”

The book was a worn yet elegant volume that, once opened, gave off a mossy perfume of the old forests. Honora rubbed her hand over the worn, yellowed pages and inhaled their earthy, nostalgic smell. “The scent reminds me of what the old world must have been like. I feel like I know it, like it’s a part of me even though I’ve never been.”

“It’s a part of our ancestry. That’s why it feels like a memory, a place of ancient magic, filled with all the beings of the Otherworld.” Clover ran her finger down one of the pages. “Tell me more about your gut instinct.”

Honora’s knee bounced up and down. “My gut says that Jonathan Rainer is the council’s go-to wizard on the wall, and for whatever reason, they’re hiding his involvement. The Hexer following Harper and me proves that, so I’m thinking if I can find the wall and the way through, I might be able to locate him, or at least find out what the council is hiding.”

“If we use the manual as a guide, then we’re looking for the stations. Find the stations and you find the wall and the wardens.” Clover flipped through the parchments, continuing to dig.

Staring over Clover’s shoulder, Honora drummed her fingers on the thick book that her sister was reading. “The wall is protected with stations at the four directional corners at opposite sides of our world, which is unfortunate for me, but strategically sound. They’re completely hidden. Not even the manual mentions where they’re located.”

“Did January give you any additional ideas, like where she got the manual or anything else?”

“No, she just said that she’d had it for a long time. It’s one of her collectibles. Once the Hexer came around, she practically threw it at me. Why? What are you getting at?”

“Nothing. Just that it wasn’t that hard for you to find, and it lines up with Jonathan Rainer’s disappearance and you getting this case. It was either a lucky break, or…” She raised her brow.

“You’re not suggesting the book was planted?” Honora twisted up her face. “I don’t believe that. January would have said something. Wouldn’t she?” Her friend could be very mysterious, but she wouldn’t keep something as important as the witching wall a secret.

“I don’t know, but from what you’ve told me about her, she knows everything about Everland. She’s practically an historian. I’m just saying that it was a lucky break.” Clover’s gaze was pressed tightly to the pages.

“January wasn’t so lucky when the Hexer attacked her. Having the book brought her trouble. Or was that me?” Honora’s shoulders slumped. “The Hexer followed me right into her shop. Let’s face it. Mayhem strikes again.”

“Here, I found something.” Clover tapped her finger on the page. “It says a unique warden guards each corner. The Woodsman guards the North, the Archer guards the South, the Sky Flyer guards the East, and the West is guarded by the Mountain Ranger.” Clover grinned. “Awesome. There are some seriously cool witches and wizards protecting our world.”

“That’s a relief. This is a good sign. Finally, I’ve got something more to go on.” Honora’s heart leapt. “What else does it say?”

Clover pounced on the page and continued to read, encouraged by her findings. “From what is says here, the manuals were written as guides, passed down to the wardens generation after generation. They were kept as cherished secrets. In the beginning, dozens were created, but while in combat during the days of infiltration of the Otherworlders, some of the books were lost or stolen during the fighting.” She straightened up and blew a rogue curl out of her face. “I had no idea so many Otherworlders had invaded Everland.”

“It must have been rough. The council kept it under wraps. Well, at least that explains how January got hold of one. But I’ve been thinking about who would benefit from Jonathan Rainer’s disappearance, and my conclusion isn’t good.” Honora stood and paced the woven rug. “His knowledge of barrier spells would be valuable to anyone who wants access to protection magic and the counter spells to bring the barrier down.”

“That’s the Otherworlders. It could be anything over there, dangerous creatures.”

“That was January’s worst fear. We need to get to work.”

The two sisters combed through
The Manual of Protection
and some of Clover’s reference books, but were no closer to a solution or a new direction. Frustration filled Honora. Her task was too big, the wall too expansive. Even with narrowing her search to the four corners, she still didn’t know which one to search. The library was scattered with opened books, but they might as well have been blank.