Wizard in a Witchy World (18 page)

Several minutes later, I heard the ding of an elevator. A weaselly looking man with salt and pepper hair and a narrow build walked purposefully in my direction. As he arrived, he adjusted his round wire-framed glasses, making eye contact with me. I stood and pushed down a strong feeling of being underdressed and out of place.

"Mr. Slade?" The man managed to sound both raspy and nasal as he stood in front of me.

"Yes." I offered my hand. The disgust at my gesture rolled off the man in waves as he forced a smile. It occurred to me that sensitivity to people's feelings wasn't always an advantage.

"David Phibbly. If you'll follow me, we've gathered in my office." He shook my proffered hand with a single pump and let go, turning back to the elevator doors from which he'd exited.

It was an uncomfortable ride up. Phibbly stared forward, not making eye contact as we rode quietly in the elevator. When it stopped, he took a practiced step back, bowed slightly at the waist and gestured with an open palm toward the door. "After you, Mr. Slade."

I walked into an open, low-cubicle environment where ten middle-aged women busily worked in front of computer terminals. Phibbly caught up and guided me past offices along the outer wall. As I looked into each of the offices, I noticed they were predominately occupied by older men in suits. It felt like I'd been transported back to a nineteen fifties black-and-white movie. As we entered Phibbly's office, I was surprised to see two women in conservative business suits already seated at a round table.

"Aimee Bestmun." A blonde-haired woman offered her hand.

"Kim Munstel." The other offered as they both stood.

"Felix Slade." I shook their hands and gathered a quick read. Bestmun was absolutely roiling with curiosity, where Munstel was calm with an undercurrent of concern.

"On behalf of Leotown Bank and Trust, we'd like to welcome you, Mr. Slade," Phibbly said as we sat. "How may we help you today?"

I pulled the paper from my pocket and slid it onto the table. "I was hoping you would clear up a mystery for me relating to the property at 230 Happy Hollow Boulevard."

Phibbly picked up the paper, looked at it briefly and then handed it to Bestmun. "Do you have an interest in making a claim on the property?"

I felt three sets of eyes looking at me intently, hanging on my answer.

"I don't know. I'm not familiar with it, but a friend suggested I should talk to you," I said, looking to Kim for support.

"There's a test." Bestmun blurted, unable to contain herself.

"Aimee. That's not the procedure," Phibbly corrected.

"What kind of test?" I asked still looking at Kim.

"There are three tests," Kim answered. Again, I felt her concern surface. She made a sudden decision.

"Kim!" Phibbly objected.

"No, David. There is a higher responsibility than this charter. Mr. Slade needs to know what he's getting into."

"There is
no
higher responsibility than the law," Phibbly stated emphatically.

"The first step is simple, Mr. Slade," Kim said. "We need to verify your identity. We need a driver's license or passport and a social security card or birth certificate."

Gabriella had warned me that they might ask to verify my identity and I'd brought my birth certificate and driver's license. I slid them across the table. Aimee stood wordlessly, scooped them up and walked from the room.

"The second is a blood test to be administered by Mr. Phibbly. It is a non-standard test we, quite frankly, don't understand. But, as David has correctly pointed out, the agreement of the trust charter must be fulfilled and this is clearly spelled out."

"Only if he is making a claim," Phibbly corrected.

My curiosity was piqued and while I felt the warning from Kim, I wanted to know what was at the end of this rabbit hole. "What do you need to hear from me?" I turned to Phibbly.

For the first time in our conversation, he smiled, steepling his fingers together as he responded. "Something along the lines of – I claim Tenebris Manerium."

"Dark Manor," I said mostly to myself, translating the Latin phrase.

"There is danger," Kim interjected.

"Kim! Please remove yourself from this meeting," Phibbly said.

"I'd like to request that Ms. Munstel stay," I said as she started to rise.

Phibbly exchanged a look with Kim and she sat again. "My apologies," she said.

The tension was interrupted as Aimee Bestmun returned, placing my license and birth certificate on the table next to me.

"And?" Phibbly asked, turning his attention to Bestmun.

"We are indeed talking with Felix Slade, third son of Atronia Baltazoss. Father is listed as Egils Slade." She sat back into her chair. "At least that's how the birth certificate reads. Mr. Slade, will you consent to a background check to verify the authenticity of this information?"

My mind reeled. Third son? As little as I knew of my parents, I'd always thought I was an only child.

"Mr. Slade?" Phibbly pushed, sliding a paper and pen in front of me. "Consent?"

I tried reading the paper, but couldn't make sense of it. My mind did not want to read the words while I was still processing what I'd just heard. I scrawled my signature, desperate for nuggets of information on my family.

"And the claim for Tenebris?" He placed a small crystal phial on the table in front of me. His smile broadened, like a spider anticipating a fly's approach. I'd intended to question Kim of the danger, but my mind refused to stop spinning with questions about my family.

"Yes. I claim Tenebris Manerium."

I wasn't sure if everyone could feel the wave of magic that pulsed from the phial, but the room grew silent as they all considered me.

"The first of two tests requires a blood sample," he said, pulling the pointed stopper from the top of the ornate bottle. "Your finger?"

A compulsion resonated that required my participation. It wasn't from Phibbly and I suspected it was the enchantment on the bottle. I had the capacity to resist, but the suggestion that I might learn about my family was enough. I held my finger out as he pulled on latex gloves.

"This is barbaric," Kim said. "We should never have agreed to administer this trust."

"Why? What happens if things don't work out?" I asked as Phibbly jabbed my finger, squeezing it harder than was required to make blood flow.

"Those who have passed the blood test have never returned to this office," Kim said.

"How many have passed?"

"You'll make four," Phibbly said, releasing my hand and stoppering the bottle. A green glow emanated from the bottle. "And there you go. You're who you say you are."

"I thought you had to run a background check," I said.

"That's for the government. The charter doesn't require anything but this bottle to proceed," Phibbly said, managing a patronizing tone.

"What's the next test?" I asked.

"Simple. There's a large crystal jar in the basement of the house. A companion to this one. When you bring it back, we combine them. If all goes well, you become a probationary owner of the property."

"Probationary? What does that mean?"

"It's a relatively simple term, I'm sure you'll understand," he said patronizingly. "There is a three-year probationary period where you're given full use of the property and an allowance for maintenance."

"After three years?"

"The house and assets of the trust are transferred to you in their entirety."

"What's the allowance?"

"It is quite generous. The trust will reimburse up to thirty thousand dollars in approved expenses."

"Who approves?" The man emanated deception. What was he lying about?

"The trust specifies a list of approved categories. But, to answer your question, it would be my responsibility," he said.

Kim Munstel sat forward in her chair. "The trust also pays real estate taxes, insurance, and has a provision for emergencies, like flood or fire."

"What is the value of the trust as it stands today?" I asked.

"Ahh, of course. I'm surprised it took so long to get to this," Phibbly said with a disapproving pout.

"He passed the identity test. He has a right to know," Kim said.

Phibbly sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Excluding the actual land and structure at 230 Happy Hollow, the assets were last valued at twenty-eight million, four hundred twenty thousand."

"That's a lot," I said. "Just one thing, though. Do you want to explain to me how Leotown Police ended up with a copy of this trust at a particularly inconvenient moment?"

"I'm sure I have no idea," Phibbly replied, the lie as apparent as the nose on his face.

"Are you saying the details of this trust aren't confidential? Or are you saying Leotown Bank and Trust isn't capable of keeping these details secret?"

"What are you implying?"

"A simple question asked," I said.

"I have no way of knowing how this information came into the possession of the police. Perhaps there was an old copy floating around that we were unaware of."

"I'd hate to think my parents chose to trust the wrong bank," I said.

"Your mother set it up and I assure you, we are most trustworthy," Phibbly said.

I'd made my point and wasn't prepared to push it any further. "All this is mine if I simply retrieve a bottle from the basement?"

"That about sums it up," he said. "Aimee would be happy to accompany you there now if you'd like."

"Now?"

"Our instructions are to accompany claimants to the property and escort them to the basement and then leave. When they return with the bottle, the three-year process for transferring ownership begins."

"And, you've done this three times previously? No one has returned?" I asked looking at the blonde trust officer.

"Me? No, this would be my first time," Aimee said.

"Fine. Let's do it then," I said. "I just have to make a quick stop at home to take care of something."

As I stood, Kim grabbed my arm. "You can walk away from this, Mr. Slade. Don't be blinded by the money."

"If it were just that, I would." At least I hoped I would.

"Wait here, I'll be right back"

Aimee Bestmun parked on the street next to my apartment and looked out her window expectantly.

"Take your time," she said with a smile. "This beats paperwork any day."

I jogged past Amak's Jeep and up the stairs to my apartment. I was unusually proud of the fact that for once, I was returning to my apartment and the door hadn't been ripped from its hinges while I was gone. I swiped the locks open and found Amak asleep in the kitchen chair with her legs propped up on the table.

"Wakee, wakee," I said as I approached.

"Heya, sweet cheeks. What's shaking?" she asked. "Did you have a nice meeting?"

"You know bankers…"

"Not really."

"
Finis
." I dropped the spell circle that contained her.

"Locking me in there was pretty clever," she said. "And your eggs were a little dry."

"Sorry, I was in a hurry," I said.

"What'd you learn at the bank?"

I knew we were in dangerous territory as she would just report whatever I said back to Camille and Liise Straightrod. I was starting to believe one of them – or both - meant me harm.

"I might have a claim on that mansion where the lycan were holding Clarita," I said.

"You really need to stop telling me this stuff," Amak said.

"You asked."

"What part of compulsion don't you get?"

"I get it, but I'm also not willing to lie to you."

She shook her head. "You need to get more comfortable with it."

"Can you hold on a minute? I need to grab something from the truck."

"Sure."

I turned, ran back down to the truck, started it up and pulled into the drive, parking behind her Jeep. I looked up to the apartment where she was watching me through the window. I gave her a friendly wave, tossed my keys into the front seat and jogged over to where Aimee Bestmun still sat in her car.

"Probably be best if we got moving," I said as I jumped into the passenger side of her vehicle.

"What's going on?"

"You're driving, right? So let's go." I pushed a sense of urgency into my words.

As she put the car into gear and sped away, I caught a glimpse of Amak bounding down the stairs, three at a time, a wide smile on her face. I wondered if she'd chase us all the way over to the house or if she even knew where we were going.

***

"Slow down. It’s coming up on the right," I instructed.

"What? I don't see anything."

"Seriously, slow down a lot!" I said. Aimee drove like a crazy person, which wasn't uncommon in my circle of people, but her little car would never make the turn at this speed without taking damage. "It's right there." I pointed at a gap in the vegetation that had a much more pronounced separation than it did a few days ago. Several dozen police vehicles had opened things up nicely.

"It might have been better if we'd brought your truck," she said.

"We can park on a side street and walk in if you'd prefer," I said.

"No. I got this." She bumped over the curb, flipped on her headlights and followed the newly-formed ruts created by emergency vehicles.

"Take it slow," I put my hands on the dash to brace myself. "There are limbs down everywhere."

"Look, pal. I grew up on a farm. I got this."

A few minutes later we pulled up to the house.

"Are you going to accompany me the whole way?" I asked.

"My instructions are to follow you into the basement and wait until you enter the single door. Once you're in, I'm to return without entering the room," she said.

"Easy enough."

"Really? It sounds pretty cloak and dagger to me."

"Wrong genre. Think Dungeons and Dragons."

She gave me a quizzical look. I avoided her questions by hopping out of the car.

"Wait," she called after me. Her spiked heels sank into the soft dirt as she tried to follow. "What did you mean by that?" She grabbed my arm to steady herself.

"We're just around the corner." I guided her toward the breezeway entry Amak and I had entered two nights before.

"Let me find the right key," she said, pulling a ring full of keys from her purse.

"Sure. I'll just see if it's locked," I said, waving my hand across the door and slid the tumblers into place, following the now familiar pattern. I pushed the door open.

"That should have been locked." She followed me into the empty mudroom, her heels clacking on the hard slate tile.

"I'm guessing it's through here," I said, walking into the rundown kitchen.

"Are you sure?" She hustled to keep up with me, her narrow skirt constraining the length of her stride. I wasn't purposefully being annoying, but my mind was consumed with what Clarita and I had both felt in the basement of the house. "Wait up," she called after me. I'd already made it to the room where we'd first run into the lycan.

"Almost there." I encouraged her, waiting by a door I knew led to the small hallway where we'd been trapped and Clarita had saved us all by energizing my spells.

"I'm not sure why they haven't torn this crap hole down," she said, catching up. "The land would be worth a fortune. Drop a million-dollar home on this and you could sell it for double that."

"Is that what you'd do?"

"If I had the money. We run into this all the time, though - property that people don't want to part with. I just don't understand being nostalgic about a wreck like this. I say bulldoze it and cash in."

"Maybe," I said, pushing through to the expected hallway. There were four doors, one being the magical door to the basement. It was closed, just like I'd left it.

"What happened here?" she asked. "Is that blood?"

I hadn’t even noticed the blood stains on the floor and smears on the wall, too focused on the task. "You have a key for this door too?"

"Don't you? The instructions say that you have to open both doors and I'm to turn my back as you do," she said.

"Shouldn't you turn around then?"

"Really? You're not going to let me watch?"

"Wouldn't want to break the agreement," I said and twirled my finger at her. She pursed her lips, but turned around all the same.

This lock was definitely old hat, mirroring the lock leading into the mudroom. I slid the tumblers across and pushed the door open, stepping in so the sconces would start lighting.

"Did you get it?"

"One second." I watched as the lights ignited around the corner on the way down the stairs. "Yup, we're good." She turned and looked on with surprise.

"How'd those get lit?"

"I think they're all connected. I just had to light one of 'em," I lied.

She gave me a dubious look. "Dungeons and Dragons indeed."

We walked down the stairs together, Aimee using my shoulder for balance on the worn steps. I was surprised by their lack of dust or debris. I wondered if that was due to how the passage was constructed or if there was magic at work. I leaned toward the latter. If I knew a cleaning spell, I'd certainly have used it on the entire house, not just down here.

"Look at that. A second door, just like you said." I feigned ignorance.

"I'm not supposed to say anything, but Kim wants me to remind you that you don't have to go through with this," she said. "You can still walk away."

"Tell her thank you, but this is important to me," I said.

She turned around without my prompting. "Okay, do your thing, Mr. Slade."

I placed my hand on the door handle. Like the doors above, this handle felt familiar in my grip. "
Altum Visu
," I fired up my second sight. The door and the entire wall in front of me absolutely writhed with the same bluish energy signature I'd seen in the breezeway door. It was as familiar to me as my own face in the mirror. I wondered if this deep connection was because my family had some part in the construction of this place. My heart raced at the possibility.

The magical lock on this door was considerably more complex than the two upstairs. There were multiple paths for the magical tumblers to travel. I instinctively understood that there was only one correct path and to make a wrong turn would shut the door down. It wasn't a problem, though. I knew the pattern just like I recognized the bluish energy signature. I pulled the tumblers along the pattern as if I'd been doing it all my life. Turning the handle, I pushed the heavy wooden door inward.

"
Finis
." I dropped my second sight.

Wizard's fire ignited in ornate iron sconces in sequence around the room - or, more accurately, laboratory. When the final sconce lit, a fire popped to life in the stone fireplace on the back wall. An ornately carved desk sat to one side of the hearth, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes covered the rest of the back wall. While the air smelled stale, the polished stone surfaces of the work tables appeared completely devoid of dust. A silver cauldron rested on a heating element as if the resident wizard had left only days before.

"Why does this feel so familiar?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"You opened the door!" Aimee had turned around and was peering into the room.

"You should leave, Aimee." With my words, I pushed a sense of foreboding at her. I might have overdone it, as her face turn ashen and she quickly retreated, her back hitting the stone wall.

"I have to see you step through the door," she mumbled.

I stepped over the threshold and turned back to her. "Good enough?" The sound of her heels on the stone stairs was the only evidence she'd been there with me. The lights in the hallway extinguished as I heard the door at the top of the stair clack shut.

"Well, that's something," I said to myself.

As I walked into the room, past the lab tables, my eye fell on a pile of bones on the floor. A mostly-rotted human skeleton was on the floor in front of the fireplace and in its boney fingers was a crystal like the one in Phibbly’s picture. The skeleton was enough of a warning. I wasn't about to grab the jar just yet. I walked around the desk and plopped down in the leather chair, pulling my phone out. I wanted to call Gabriella and get her read on the situation, but she had enough going on with Clarita and the memorial tonight. I dialed up Amak.

"Something's been bugging me. You sound a lot less troll-like than you did when we first met. What's that about?" I asked, when she picked up the phone.

"That's pretty random. And nice job ducking me at your apartment. You know I'm going to have to up my game," she said. "So what gave me away?"

"I'd say it was the lack of growling, snorting and use of single syllable words," I said.

"Would you believe it's easier to be scary when everyone thinks you're a single-minded killer?" she asked.

"That's hot. Totally had me fooled," I said.

"You're weird, Slade. You sure you're not up for a booty call?"

"No. I just wanted to talk to someone," I said.

"You good then?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I hung up. She was right. I am strange.

I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. The familiar smell of the leather brought a long-forgotten memory to the surface. I was remembering the face of a woman I believed to be my mother. Her long black hair fell around my face as she leaned down to give me a kiss. I smiled at the powerful memory of the love she'd shared with me in that moment.

I breathed deeply and turned my head back into the chair. The memory had been triggered by the faint scent left behind by the previous occupant. It was hard not to take the memory as a sign. If I wanted to know more about my mother, I was going to have to see this test through. I looked over at the corpse.

"So what was your story?" I asked as if it would reply.

My eye caught something new. A silver band, two inches wide had been inscribed into the floor and formed a circle six feet in diameter around the corpse. Upon closer inspection, I discovered faint etched runes in the silver. I knelt and ran my fingers across the surface. It was warm to the touch and my senses revealed that the silver ran deep into the floor. Whoever had created the circle hadn't been messing around. Silver was a powerful medium and would make a strong barrier.

I thought about the two uses I knew of for a spell circle. The first was to bind a wizard to the earth and provide protection. The wizard would cast the circle while sitting within it. This practice had become something of a routine for me when I wanted to recharge. The other purpose of the circle was to trap something, usually a spirit or demon. The wizard remained outside the circle, like I'd done to Amak.

"Is that what you did?" I asked the circle's occupant. "You summoned a circle and what…?" I was missing something. There was no reason for someone to die inside a circle. I supposed they could starve to death or run out of water, but nothing physical or magical could touch them while they were inside. I looked at the skeleton and wondered if whoever it had been had perished in the circle for something as mundane as dehydration.