Magicorum Box Set (Books 1-5)

5. Chapter Five

5

Chapter Five

Bryar Rose

In my dream, I stand in a snug room that seems carved out from layers of shale. A child’s bed sits in one corner, a small sandbox in the other. The walls are decorated with a child’s drawings. The tops of the paper have crammed between the stones to stay put. Someone didn’t want to throw a single thing away. The thought makes me smile.

There’s something safe and comforting about this place.

I’ve been here before, I know it.

White mist rolls across the floor covering me up to my knees. Looking down, I notice that I’m wearing a gray hooded cloak, which is strange. I went to sleep wearing boy shorts and a t-shirt, like always.

What a strange dream.

All of a sudden, a child’s laughter echoes behind me. Turning about, I try to see who’s here, but I only see the flash of a small body racing around.

A girl. Perhaps six years old.

I cup my hand by my mouth. “Who’s there?”

“You.” She giggles. “Me. We’re the same thing, silly.”

My breath catches. This has never happened before.

I’m dreaming, but not about ancient Egypt. This is about me as a child.

Shock and excitement zing through my nervous system. This is huge. I don’t remember anything from when I was under six years old. All my memories are of my aunties, and I came to live with them at age six. I steel my shoulders and ask another question.

“Are you saying that you’re a version of me at six years old?”

“Yes, and we’re in a dream.” She’s so young that last word sounds more like dweam.

I spin around, searching for her in the mist. “Where are you?”

“Come and find me!”

I stumble about, searching for the child version of me. Small glimpses of her appear in the haze, and I chase after them with gusto. Still, I can’t get a clear view. And no matter which direction I run, the tiny room seems to stretch on and on.

Stupid dreams.

Even so, a few details become clear. Child-Me wears red, silver, and gold. I race harder, but the room keeps extending, so I give up on having a face-to-face chat with her and decide to ask more questions instead.

“Why don’t I remember you when I’m awake?”

“Poppa had to hide our memories. They’re still locked down tight.”

Bands of anxiety tighten around my chest. “Poppa? Who do you mean?”

“Who do you think, silly? He’s standing right here.”

A dragon’s tail swooshes by my feet. After that, the full dragon steps out of the mist—a massive black creature with red spikes along his spine. The small room instantly stretches to fit its massive frame. I’d know this particular dragon anywhere.

“Colonel Mallory.” I take a half step backward. “You’re my Poppa?”

The tail flicks once before vanishing off into the mist.

“Colonel Mallory? Are you here?”

There’s no answer. And the dragon doesn’t reappear from the mist.

My head spins through all this information. There’s a six-year-old version of me locked inside my own soul. For some reason, she thinks that Colonel Mallory is her Poppa. That doesn’t make any sense. Colonel Mallory is one of the best-known fairies in the world. If he had a child, it wouldn’t be a secret for long. A chill crawls up my limbs.

Is that why my memories are locked down? The Colonel might have been trying to keep me hidden. My rib cage seems to swell with excitement.

I might know who my father is.

Scanning the mist, I look for Child-Me again. Will she look like the Colonel? I call out to her again. “Why did Poppa hide our memories of him?”

“Because of the man in the angry mask,” says Child-Me. “We couldn’t let him see us. Later, we couldn’t remember him at all.”

A man appears in the corner of the small room. All of him is hidden in cloud, except for his golden helmet and faceplate. What I can see of him positively screams ancient Rome. The helm even has those tall red plumes along the top. Plus, the faceplate is shaped into the image of a man with narrowed eyes and a deep frown. Could that be Jules…or perhaps one of his minions? Back when Jules was Julius Caesar, he had a large Roman army at his call.

The Roman man disappears.

Well, if Jules or one of his minions was after me as a child, then that would explain a lot. If the Colonel hid my memories of Jules or his warriors, then it was probably to keep me safe. After all, that’s why the Colonel locked up my powers—to keep them hidden from Jules. Why not hide my memories for the same reason? I shake my head. That doesn’t make sense, though. If all this were true, why wouldn’t the Colonel release my memories after Jules died?

I press my palms against my eyes. This is a whole lot of guessing based on some little girl’s ramblings in a dream. Maybe I just want to know who my parents are, so I’m making his stuff up while I sleep.

That has to be it. Colonel Mallory is not Poppa material.

Around me, the mist lightens. My heart pounds faster. Child-Me speaks once more, only closer this time.

“Bet you can’t find me,” she calls.

I tilt my head. Should I chase this child?

Little girl laughter echoes again through the mist. The giggles are high-pitched and sweet, like the tinkling of tiny bells. I can’t help but smile. A weight I didn’t know I carried seeps off my shoulders. In my heart of hearts, I know what I need to do. There is more to this dream than conversations in the mist. I need to see this girl face-to-face.

“I’ll find you.”

A realization flows through my soul, one with all the clarity that only a dream can give. If I can just meet this girl in the mist, then I’ll have what I’ve always wanted.

Answers.

Spinning about, I reach forward, blindly grasping at anything in the clouds around me. “Ready or not, here I come!”

Her laughter rises again. “I have to go. The bad people are coming.”

I pause.

Around me, the shale walls heave, as if the room is taking in a breath. The air becomes so cold I exhale puffs of white mist. Long shadows creep down the walls, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, except for one fact.

Nothing is causing them.

The shadows lengthen, seeping down the walls in a way that reminds me of so many drips of dark gray paint. Once the shadows reach the floor, the darkness consolidates into two humanoid shapes. These creatures are tall, slender, transparent, and gray. There’s the slightest curve in one silhouette; that one might be female while the other is male. Each creature has bulging eyes that are all white and glowing.

An electric charge of awareness moves through me. For weeks, I’d been struggling to remember what happened in my dreams. Now all those nightly visions return to my mind with a vengeance.

I know these supernatural creatures. They’ve told me their names—the Shadowvin—and that they serve something called the Void. More memories appear. The Shadowvin and Void keep visiting my dreams. When I’m awake, the Shadowvin’s magic stops me from remembering anything that happened.

Definitely time to run.

With all my will, I try to move, but I stay rooted to the spot. Panic streams through me, making my limbs twitch with fear.

The two Shadowvin stride closer and then pause.

“A new world is about to dawn,” says the female Shadowvin. My eyes widen as I remember her name from previous dream visits: Tithe. When she speaks, Tithe’s voice sounds like a dozen old ladies speaking at once. “We come to offer you eternal life and youth in this upcoming era.”

“You’ve been chosen to translate the Book of Isis,” says the second Shadowvin. His voice sounds like a dozen old men whispering at once. I remember him now; this one’s name is Slythe. “In it, there’s a description of a device. The Codex Mechanica. Find this machine, bring it to us and you will be rewarded with life eternal.”

“And youth eternal,” adds Tithe.

“Will you vow to help us?” asks Slythe.

On reflex, my hands cross over my throat. This is what the Shadowvin have been offering me, night after night, only the curse wipes away the memory afterwards. “No, I won’t help you.”

“This is your last warning,” says Tithe. “We won’t protect your memory from us forever. You’ll remember, and we promise you, that will be far worse.” Her white eyes flare more brightly. “You don’t want to remember the Shadowvin, let alone the Void. Trust us.”

“Vow to translate the Book of Isis,” says Slythe. “Vow to hand over the machine. Our magic will hold you to your promise.”

“No, never. Now leave.” I’m really happy with how serious I come off here. I mean, I’m trapped in a bad dream with shadow baddies. By rights, I should be blubbering on the floor. “Tell your master that I refuse to find anything. In fact, I refuse to translate another hieroglyph.” I set my fists on my hips. This is a conversation that’s better had when you’re in a power pose. “I’ll tell you what I will do, though. I’ll take every battle class at West Lake Prep. I’ll learn how to use my magic, even when I’m asleep. And the next time you bother me in my dreams, I’ll destroy you both.”

For a long moment, the Shadowvin say nothing. My pulse speeds. Maybe I actually turned things around here.

“She isn’t afraid of us,” says Tithe. “Again.”

“I suppose we’ll have to try something different,” adds Slythe.

Slythe and Tithe lift their transparent arms. Pain radiates through my torso. Wisps of color and power rise from my palms, all in shades of red, gold, and silver. Agony spirals down my spine as the colored threads of power float away from me…And into the outstretched arms of Slythe and Tithe. My very soul feels torn from my core. My legs buckle and I crumple onto my knees. Part of me wants to tell them this isn’t so bad, but I don’t trust myself to speak. If I open my mouth, I’m afraid I’ll scream. I can’t let the Shadowvin see my weakness.

“You’ll find the device and give it to us,” says Slythe. “Or we’ll make you comply.”

“Don’t forget your friends,” whispers Tithe. “And your mate. We can drain them, too. Do you wish to cause them pain?”

Finally, I’m able to speak one word. “No.” When I next speak, it comes out as a half-cry. “GO!”

The next thing I know, I’m sitting upright in bed, my covers kicked onto the floor.

And I’m screaming. The noise awakens my wolf, who starts to whimper inside my soul.

Elle rushes into the room. “What’s wrong?”

It takes me a few minutes—because that was one terrible dream—but eventually, I’m able to stop screaming. I can only echo Elle’s words. “What is wrong?” With all my will, I try to remember, but I can’t quite find the words. For a while, it’s all I can do to breathe. Finally, I calm down enough that I can answer. “Maybe I was having a nightmare about school tomorrow.”

“Maybe?” Elle shakes her head. “You’re guessing, Bry.”

My eyes sting. “I have no idea what’s happening. Something is wrong.”

Sitting beside me on the mattress, Elle pulls me in for a hug. “Hey, I’m here. Everything is going to be fine.”

At those words, a thought appears in my mind.

Danger. Elle, Alec, and Knox…they’re all at risk. I can’t remember why or how, but I do know one fact from the bottom of my soul. There’s only one way I can protect my friends and my mate.

“You’re right, Elle. Everything will be okay.”

And I know why, too. Because no matter what happens, I refuse to translate one more hieroglyph from the Book of Isis.