The Warrior Heir (The Heir Chronicles #1)

The Warrior Heir (The Heir Chronicles #1) Page 17

Fitch had left his side momentarily, and now he was back. “The Mercedes is in the parking lot,” he whispered. Jack looked over his shoulder again. The back door led directly into the sanctuary. They were standing just behind the pulpit, in the tiny choir area. It was a plain, whitewashed room with rows of wooden pews lined up on either side of a central aisle. Large double doors opened to the parking lot at the other end.

“Look,” Jack said quietly, turning to face Fitch. ”We can probably lose them in the woods.“ They'll follow the sword. ”You and Will slide out through the front doors while I keep them occupied. Stick to the woods and stay off the road. When I know you're away, I'll make a run for it."

“Are you crazy? The dude is shooting flames, Jack. If we know they won't come in here, let's just wait it out. They can't hang around forever.”

He won't wait forever, Jack thought. And if he gets his hands on us …

Hadley had lurched to his feet and was moving closer, driven by the wizard behind him. Now Jack had no inclination to hurt Hadley. He felt sorry for him.

“Don't you see?” The wizard was speaking to Jack. “The enchanter has bewitched you, and you're the ones who will pay the price. She doesn't mind sacrificing you to get what she wants.”

Just then the cell phone buzzed, startlingly loud. With one hand, Jack fished it out of his pocket, keeping the sword pointed through the doorway.

It was Aunt Linda. “Where are you?”

“We're in the church at the old Methodist cemetery on Methodist Chapel Road. I have the sword, but we're under attack.”

Linda was silent for a moment. “I'm close,” she said. “Hold them off for five minutes. Keep the phone on.”

The cowboy had advanced to the second step. Jack stepped over the threshold to free his swing, and swept the blade from left: to right, bleeding flames, enough to move the man away without cutting him. Hadley leaped backward, nearly falling. The magic of the sword flooded into Jack like a drug. Exultant, he descended another step. The cowboy disappeared into the dark, and there was only the wizard, launching volley after volley of fireballs, as in some kind of frenzied video game. Jack sent flames spiraling back at him, and his adversary retreated. Jack moved forward, into the duel, pursuing. He was on the last step and ready to step off, when he heard someone shouting behind him.

“Jack! Are you crazy? Get in here!” It was Will, and the spell was somehow broken. He launched himself backward as a thick wall of wizard flame roared toward him, too broad to stop with a sword. Will grasped his shoulders and half lifted him inside, away from the dreadful heat. His face was burning, vision blurred by tears, his lungs scorched from the near miss. He leaned on his sword, gasping, Will still supporting him on the other side.

“I am an idiot,” he whispered. “An idiot.”

He heard his aunt's voice over the cell phone. “I'm in the parking lot. Come out the front doors. Hurry!”

Jack straightened, lifted his weight off Will and Shadowslayer, and took a painful breath that told him he was still alive. “Aunt Linda's outside,” he said. “Time to go.” They stampeded to the rear of the church.

“Look out!” Linda cried as Will and Fitch threw open the front door and came face-to-face with the cowboy. It was hard to say who was more surprised. He made a grab for Will, which turned out to be a mistake. Will had been spending considerable time in the gym. He peeled Hadley off him and, despite the man's size, lifted him off the porch and flung him into the parking lot. Hadley slid on his stomach, arms and legs splayed like a jellyfish. Fitch retrieved the case that Will had dropped.

The Land Rover was pulled up alongside the Mercedes.They sprinted for it. Will skidded to a stop next to the Mercedes, reached through the open window, and yanked the keys from the ignition. He hurled them as far as he could out into the darkness.

They flung themselves into the backseat of the Rover, Jack with the sword, and Fitch with the case. The Rover kicked up gravel as they pulled out of the lot. Behind them, the cowboy had risen to his hands and knees. And then the church was out of sight, and they were speeding down Methodist Chapel Road.

Chapter Five

The Warrior Heir

Linda was calm, businesslike, even, handing the phone to Fitch to make reservations at a hotel in Columbus under a new name, asking Will to find the map in the glove compartment and navigate, even though she knew the county well. Her voice washed over them, soothed and relaxed them, blunted their terror and curiosity. As if flaming swords and wizards were everyday events. She spoke no charms aloud, but now Jack could hear the sorcery in her voice. Why had he never noticed it before?

She gave no tasks to Jack. Once she had wrung every detail about the cemetery from him, she let him be. He sat slumped in the seat, head thrown back, eyes half closed. His entire body ached, and the whole front of him burned, save under the vest. Shadowslayer was back in its case, resting comfortably under his feet. Sometimes he caught Linda watching him in the rearview mirror.

She is the enchanter. She is the one the wizard was talking about. Maybe what he said was true. Maybe she was just using me to get the sword.

She said it was mine, didn't she?

What would he do if she tried to take it away? That was a question he couldn't answer. It seemed to fill a need in him that he didn't know was there before.

He squirmed uncomfortably, then turned and leaned over the backseat to see if there was something he could use for a pillow. He saw his duffle bag and remembered. His medicine! He tugged open the zipper and slid his hand inside, feeling for the familiar shape, the cool glass amid the clothing.

I don't want to take it, he thought. Ever again.

He pulled it out anyway, turning the blue bottle between his hands. He looked up, saw Aunt Linda watching him again.

“Never mind, Jack,” she said softly. “You don't have to anymore. We'll talk about that later.”

They stayed at a chain hotel north of Columbus, complete with the promised swimming pool and hot tub. She ordered several platters of room-service sandwiches and appetizers, and talked the fitness club manager into allowing them to use the facilities until midnight. The man returned at intervals during the evening to see if they needed anything and to let Linda know he got off at eleven if she would like to have a drink. She declined. Several times.

He doesn't know who he's dealing with, Jack thought. Just like the wizard said.

Jack looked and felt like he'd laid out too long in the sun. The pool was soothing, but he couldn't tolerate the hot tub. He lay on his back, dozing by the pool, half awakening to hear the others talking.

“Do you think those men will try to find us?” Fitch was asking. “Do you think they'll try to get the sword back?”

“He's looking for us now,” Linda said.

Jack noticed she used the singular. The cowboy doesn't count. He's probably dead.

Linda's voice continued to wind through his thoughts. “If we're lucky, he has no idea who we are or where we're from. Nothing is in my name: the car, the hotel, nothing can be connected to me. He'll assume I have the sword. That's your best protection. And this.” As Jack watched through slitted eyes, she reached out and seized Will and Fitch each by a hand.

“You mustn't say anything about what happened this weekend to anyone, do you understand? Not a hint, not a whisper, not a boast or complaint.” She looked from one to the other, looked them in the eyes. “It's over and done. It will be our secret, a memory shared among the four of us alone. Do you understand?”

They nodded solemnly, eyes stretched open, like acolytes of a new religion.

Great, Jack said to himself. My aunt's a witch. What am I going to do? He abandoned his friends to her tender mercies, knowing they were beyond his help. He stood and stumbled his way to his room and fell exhausted into bed, welcoming the temporary escape of sleep. The sword lay in its case under his arm.

Jack slept late, and when he awoke, Will and Fitch seemed normal enough. Too normal to be normal, in fact, because they were relaxed and joking about the chores awaiting them at home. They didn't say a word about the events in the graveyard.

Linda didn't check out until after lunch, and when they carried their duffles outside, Jack was surprised to find her loading her things into a different car, a rather nondescript sedan. It seemed routine for her: using fake IDs, swapping cars.

It was nearly four P.M. when they pulled up in front of the Fitch house. Fitch lived in a tired-looking shotgun ranch that didn't seem nearly large enough to accommodate all the Fitch children. When Aunt Linda tapped the horn, it was like stirring an anthill. He was quickly immersed, waist-deep, in a sea of younger Fitches. Fitch waved ruefully and disappeared into the house with his retinue.

At the Childers house, a fair-sized pile of mulch still remained on the driveway apron. “Can you drive around the block a few times?” Will pleaded with mock desperation. He reluctantly exited the car, pulling his bag after him. ”See you tomorrow."

And then it was just the two of them. When Will was well away, Aunt Linda turned her car back toward downtown.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked warily.

“I think we should talk before I take you home,” his aunt replied, not looking at him. “I hope you have a little time.”

The Legends Coffeehouse occupied the first floor of a Victorian mansion that stood next to the lake a block from the university. Linda chose a table in the solarium with a view of the water. The late-afternoon sun streamed in through the windows. She sat with her back to the lake, facing the door.

Jack ordered a cinnamon roll and hot cocoa. Linda ordered orange spiced tea. She said little until the waitress had served them and disappeared. Then she turned to Jack.

“So what do you think of the sword?”

“It's … it's…” Jack recalled the rush of power, searched for the appropriate adjective. “I've never seen … felt…anything like it.” He'd brought it into the restaurant and leaned it against the wall, unwilling to leave it in the car.