Standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 11
Balthazar slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple times as the dim outline of stacks of bottles came into focus. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion. It was daylight outside. Did he only sleep for a few hours? Had he gone to sleep early? With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Balthazar realized he couldn't clearly recall if the sun had been up or not when he'd gone to sleep last. He had no idea what day it was, couldn't say how long he'd been trapped. He knew he hadn't been able to roll the crate at all the last time he'd been up...or had that been the time before last? With nothing to differentiate between one day and the next they were all starting to blur together.
He knew his body was beginning to give out on him. Although he had no way to tell how long he had been asleep, he was tiring much more quickly then before and was sleeping more often. His body was failing him and, given his inability to keep track of what had happened during his last period of wakefulness, Balthazar feared his mind was beginning to follow suit. If he got confused the next time he managed to turn the crate and ended up stacking the bottles against the wrong wall, he'd lose any chance he had at escape. His imagination, at least, was still fertile enough to show him, in grim detail, what his death would be like.
Ruthlessly shoving his fear aside, Balthazar defiantly pushed himself to his feet, almost forgetting about the low ceiling. His stomach churned, hunger pangs having been replaced by nausea sometime over the last few days, and he reflexively held one hand to his belly, but paid the discomfort no mind other than that. He wasn't going to give in until he was physically unable to even try challenging his fate, no matter how the odds were stacked against him. Features set with determination, he threw himself against the wall, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from shoulder to elbow as he slammed into the wood. He had lived through some of the worst events in the annals of recorded history and survived. He hit the wall again. He had successfully completed his centuries-long quest and finally been reunited with the love of his life. The crate shuddered. He wasn't about to let some measly boards and a few nails keep him from the life he'd fought so hard to get.
Time passed, only marked by the increasing number of breaks Balthazar's weakening body forced upon him. He guessed several hours passed before he finally managed to tip the crate, unable to do more than lie amongst the fallen bottles afterward, all but gasping for breath for a few moments.
"The flesh is weak," he panted, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. "But, at least some progress was made." He let himself rest for a few minutes more, feeling incredibly weak and tired. His mind wandered once more to Veronica, conjuring memories of her beautiful face smiling up at him...her slivery laughter ringing in his ears...her soft hands caressing his skin...
Balthazar jerked back to full wakefulness, adrenaline temporarily banishing the weariness hovering over him like a shroud. He sat up, groaning as his muscles screamed in protest as he forced them to stack the bottles against the wall once more. He had woken facing a different direction than he had been when he'd fallen sleep several times and he could not afford such a mistake now.
His fingers were stiff and unwieldy from the cold as he forced them to bend around the bottles, laboriously placing each one on top of another. His shaking limbs made the precariously stacked containers fall- twice -and he growled wordlessly as he began to stack them once again. His third try was successful and he all but collapsed onto the floor as soon as he was done, his strength gone. Some distant part of his mind noted it was still daytime, but he was too tired to try considering what the connotations of that might be.
Managing to roll so he was laying on his side, and long used to the shudders that seemed to have taken up semi-permanent residence along his spine, Balthazar closed his eyes. "Five feet closer," he whispered again before drifting off to sleep.
. . .
Veronica sat hunched over the table, one arm crossed in front of her on the polished surface while the other supported her head. A fire burned merrily a few feet from the other side of the table, far enough away there was no danger of it spreading to anything else, yet close enough for her to feel the heat from the flames. The remains of the table she had sacrificed were stacked in firewood-sized pieces off to her left. The fire was the only source of light in the room, the dancing flames making the shadows scurry here and there.
Veronica ignored them, staring down at the photo on the table in front of her. It was too dark to see the picture clearly at that angle, but she already had every detail of it memorized. "Where are you, my love?" she whispered, running her finger along the edge of the photo. "Why does even this tracking spell not work? Have you guarded yourself against this obscure method as well? Or are you simply no longer within the city limits?"
Light footsteps reached the bottom of the staircase, shoes clicking against the stone floor. "You're up late," Becky commented, glancing from the fire to the broken pieces that used to be a table as she moved to the sorceress' side. "Did you run out of candles? I can look for some more upstairs..."
"No," Veronica said, raising her gaze to the flames. "I am merely indulging in a bit of nostalgia," she explained. "Castles were always rather drafty and everyone would gather around the hearth at meals or at the end of the day. Nothing of great import was discussed- generally just the mundane events of the day, or the latest gossip heard around the castle, but they were happy times. We were...content." She sighed, her gaze melancholy. "Centuries may have past since then, but I still find there is something soothing about staring at an open flame...even if the others are no longer here with me."
"The others? You mean, Merlin and...Balthazar?" Becky asked.
"There were more than just the four of us in the castle," Veronica said, smiling softly in remembrance. "Merlin kept a small number of staff to see to the horses and the castle's upkeep. They and their families lived on the castle grounds. A few of the children left over the years when they were of age, but most stayed on, taking over their parent's duties when they grew old."
"It sounds nice."
Veronica nodded. "It was. But, at the same time, it was also awful."
"How so?" Becky asked, sliding into the chair next to her.
"It...is a very painful thing to watch those you love whither and die while you remain unchanging," Veronica said after moment. "I cannot begin to fathom how Balthazar managed for so many centuries alone."
"Unchanging?" Becky asked, a little confused. She knew Veronica had been sealed inside the Grimhold and Balthazar had begun searching for the Prime Merlinian twelve hundred and some-odd years ago, but she hadn't even considered that they could have been alive for centuries before that.
"Yes," Veronica nodded. "Merlin was already old when Morgana began the war. He cast a spell to keep us from aging until his heir was found. We stood against Morgana for centuries while Merlin searched the land. Ideally, he had planned to train the boy himself but, with Horvath's betrayal..." She trailed off, shaking her head as her eyes dropped back down to the picture. She picked it up, cradling it in her hands. "Balthazar is all I have left," she whispered brokenly, sounding incredibly lonely. "I can't lose him, Rebecca. I can't."
Becky leaned forward, resting her hand on the sorceress' shoulder. "We'll find him," she said, squeezing Veronica's shoulder reassuringly. She drew back after a moment, moving her hand to the older woman's arm and pulling Veronica to her feet. "Come on," Becky said, leading her towards the stairs. "You should get some rest."
"I'm not tired just yet," Veronica stated, although she extinguished the fire with a flick of her wrist, leaving smoldering embers in its place as she followed Becky out of the basement.
"Well, then you can come with me," Becky said decisively. Anything was better than sitting by herself in the basement, dwelling on those she had lost.
"And, where are you headed?" Veronica asked, listlessly.
"Dave seems to have forgotten he owns a dog, so we're going to take Tank for a walk."
"Dave has already retired for the day, I take it?" Veronica asked.
"Yeah, he was already snoring on the couch by the time I got out of the shower," Becky answered, pulling her jacket from the closet and slipping it on.
Veronica retrieved her jacket as Becky attached the leash to Tank's collar and they exited the shop.
"There is not much wind this morning," Veronica noted. "At least, not at ground level."
"Yeah," Becky agreed, "but the weatherman says it won't last long. There's a storm front heading this way. We're supposed to be getting snow in the next couple days."
"I see."
They walked in silence for a few moments, Becky leading them to a nearby park. "So, how's the search going?" she asked as they meandered along a sidewalk that ran throughout the park. "I've hardly seen you or Dave for three days."
"Not very well, I'm afraid," Veronica admitted, the barest tremor in her voice.
"What do you mean?" Becky asked.
"We finished combing the city for the second time last night," Veronica clarified. "But, our search has been in vain. Either Balthazar has also protected himself against this type of the tracking spell, or..."
Becky's pace had slowed, matching Veronica's as she watched the sorceress. "Or what?" she asked softly.
"Or, there's simply nothing left to find." Veronica's voice shook slightly as she forced herself to utter the words.
Becky shook her head adamantly. "No," she said, firmly. "From what Dave's told me, Balthazar always had one or two contingency plans for any given situation. Even his contingency plans had contingency plans! He's had a lot of people after him throughout the years- I'm sure he just put a lot of effort into blocking any possible way for someone to track him!"
"If that is the case, then we have no way to find him," Veronica said quietly, halting and glancing up as a lamppost turned off above her. "Without any lead to follow, Balthazar may truly be lost to us."
Becky couldn't think of anything to say to that. Instead, she drew the sorceress into a hug, holding her tightly. Veronica trembled in her arms, slowly returning the embrace as the first few tears fell. The dam holding her emotions in check cracked and she broke into tears, clinging to the blonde as everything she'd kept bottled up over the last several days came rushing out. Becky held her close, rubbing her back soothingly as a few of her own tears slid down her cheeks.
After a few moments, Veronica seemed to have calmed and regained her composure. "Forgive me, Rebecca," she apologized, drawing back as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "These past several days have been rather stressful for me."
Becky shook her head, taking Veronica's hand. "We'll get him back," she said firmly.
Veronica sighed, looking tired and worn. "I know not what else I can do."
Becky was silent, not able to find any comforting words. She shivered as a cold gust of wind blew past them. "Looks like the wind's picking back up," she noted. "Let's head back."
Veronica nodded.
Becky took two steps when she noticed the dog wasn't following. "Come on, Tank," she said, giving the leash a gentle tug. The dog looked at her from where he had laid down on the sidewalk, but didn't move.
Becky shook her head. "You have got to be the laziest dog I've ever seen," she said, planting on hand on her hip as she stared down at him. "I'm not carrying you back to the shop. Come on!" She tugged the leash a little harder.
With a groan, Tank heaved himself to his feet and ambled forward. Becky shook her head, muttering about how Dave needed to walk his dog more often.
It didn't take long for them to make it back to the Arcana Cabana and all three were eager to get out of the cold wind. Feeling drained, Veronica announced her intention to retire, leaving Becky to mind the store.
Veronica mechanically went through the motions of getting ready for bed, her thoughts elsewhere. She climbed onto the mattress, pulling the blankets over her and turned onto her side, staring at the empty pillow beside her. After a moment, she scooted to Balthazar's side of the bed, turning her face to his pillow and inhaling deeply. She could just barely catch his scent lingering on the fabric.
Just then her cell phone rang, breaking the silence in the room. Veronica reluctantly climbed out of the bed, moving to where she had left her phone on the dresser. She blinked, not recognizing the number, and answered the call. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Blake?" asked a vaguely familiar masculine voice.
"This is she," Veronica answered, her brows furrowing. "May I ask with whom am I speaking?
"Oh, forgive my poor manners, ma'am. This is Travis Doyle," he apologized. "I'm sorry to call so early, but I thought you'd like to know as soon as possible. I've located Maxim Horvath."
. . .
Less than an hour later, Veronica was standing outside the local NYPD. She shook her head, wondering if Horvath thought a few iron bars would be enough to protect him from her wrath. She stepped inside, stopping just past the doors as she scanned the room. Horvath wasn't in sight and she mentally berated herself. Of course he wouldn't be out in the main lobby. She paused, considering the best way to find him.
Before she had decided on a course of action, she saw a familiar head of curly blonde hair, recognizing Detective Hoyt heading toward her.
"Mrs. Blake," he greeted, nodding to her. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Veronica considered for a moment. "Yes," she said at length. "There is something you can help me with."
Hoyt nodded, leading her into a small room off to the side where they could talk in private. "What can I do for you?" he asked, offering her a chair and sitting in the one opposite her.
"I need to speak with Maxim Horvath."
"What makes you think Mr. Horvath is here?" Hoyt asked carefully.
"I hired a private investigator to find him," she stated. "His investigation led him here."
Hoyt nodded slowly. "We do have one suspect in custody," he said, careful not to use any names. "He looks good for it- we caught him using your husband's credit cards and found his fingerprints on Mr. Blake's phone where the abduction took place. We're trying to cut a deal right now to find out where your husband is," he explained.
"I must speak with him," Veronica repeated earnestly, leaning forward in her chair.
Hoyt shook his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't allow you to do that," he said.
Veronica was through trying to be polite. "Yes," she said, her voice commanding as her ring glowed on her finger. "You can. And you will."
Hoyt's eyes were drawn to her lap, fixating on the purple gem shining brightly. He nodded, standing almost mechanically and heading for the door.
"Do nothing that will draw suspicion," Veronica added.
Hoyt nodded, his movements becoming a bit more fluid. "Wait here," he said, his eyes glazed over as he left the room.
It was only a few minutes before he returned. "This way," he said.
Veronica followed, noting his steps gained purpose when he was in sight of his co-workers and he even smiled and nodded in greeting to a few of them. His eyes alone remained cold and lifeless, the only outward sign that her will was suppressing his own.
It didn't take them long to reach the interrogation rooms and Hoyt opened the door for Veronica. "I'll speak to him alone," she instructed. "Wait outside." Hoyt nodded and she stepped into the room, her eyes landing on Maxim Horvath for the first time in over a millennium. He didn't look surprised to see her. Veronica didn't hear the door click shut over the sound of Horvath's head smashing down on the metal table.
"You impudent pig!" she seethed, her ring glowing brightly.
"It's good to see you as well," Horvath wheezed, managing to turn his head to the side although she still held him pinned against the table. "I see your temper hasn't mellowed with age."
"Hold your tongue, you villainous cur!" Veronica snapped, her eyes blazing. "Lest I cut it from your mouth!"
"Such venom! I do believe you may actually be furious enough to follow through with your threat." Horvath had the audacity to smile at her. "Therefore, I feel I should warn you that these little sessions are not as private as you might think. Everything we say and do is being recorded right now."
Veronica's eyes narrowed, glancing up at the camera in the corner. Sharing a body with Morgana, or perhaps the long years trapped together had given Veronica all of the older sorceress' knowledge. She knew spells that would inflict such suffering that Horvath would gladly tell her everything she wished to know and more. A silencing spell on the room would keep anyone outside of it from investigating the screams, but she could not allow any of it to be recorded, or she may give them reason to start another witch-hunt. Was the one camera in the corner the only one? The mirror seemed too conspicuous to not have a vital role, although Veronica hadn't the faintest idea what that might be. There was simply too much she didn't know to risk using any more magic. "You cowardly wretch!" she hissed, loosening her hold on him as she moved to stand on the other side of the table, putting her back to the camera. "Only the most vile rampallian would hide behind such things, as a child behind his mother's skirt!"
Horvath tsked as he sat up, rubbing his forehead where it had hit the table. "Such language, Veronica," he chided. "What would Balthazar think to hear such words fall from your lovely lips?"
"Do not refer to me to so informally, Horvath," she said coldly. "The man I knew would never have done the things you have. We are little more than strangers, you and I."
Horvath scowled. "I will not call you by his name," he seethed. "I'm afraid you'll have to put with my bad manners, Veronica."
She glowered, but did not press the issue. "You know why I am here."
"You know I will not tell you anything."
She studied him for a long moment. "Why, Horvath?" she asked at last. "What happened to make you hate Balthazar so? Surely I cannot be the only reason."
Horvath was silent for a long moment. "You weren't the only reason," he said at length. "You were just the last."
Veronica's brow burrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"It wasn't as noticeable when we were younger," he explained. "But, as the years passed, I noticed people looked at us differently, treated me as if I were inferior to him- even Merlin. An urgent document needs to reach the king post haste? Send Balthazar. A hobgoblin is troubling a pig farmer? Send Horvath." He scoffed. "Let the nobles' son play with the livestock while the peasant boy dines with the king."
He shook his head, a bitter smile gracing his lips. "I didn't mind, not at first. I was a fool and in love. I didn't care what anyone else thought." His brow darkened. "But then, you changed, as well. You, just like everyone else, started treated him as if he was better than I." His wry grin turned malicious. "But, that's all in the past, now. I proved to Balthazar, once and for all, who the better man is."
Veronica's blood ran cold. "What do you mean, Horvath?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Horvath just looked at her, his malevolent grin widening.
"No," she whispered. "No!" she yelled, slamming her hands down on the table as she leaned forward, her ring glowing. "Tell me where he is!"
Horvath laughed. "Oh, you really are out of practice, aren't you?" he said, still smiling cruelly. "Just because I am without a focus does not mean you can bend my mind to your will. That only works on the common folk."
A raised voice outside the door caught Veronica's attention and she mentally cursed.
Horvath leaned back in his chair. "Looks like your time is up."
The door opened and an old man stepped into the room. What little hair he had left was gray although his beard still sported a bit of dark brown here and there. His irritated green eyes landed on Veronica. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't have you in here," he said, his polite tone sounding rather forced.
Veronica nodded, her face composed as she moved towards the door.
"You may as well give up, Veronica," Horvath called after her. "It's already too late for Balthazar. You can't track a corpse."
"You should know me better than that, Horvath," she returned, her eyes flashing. "I will find him." She switched to telepathic communication, her next words for Horvath only. /If he is dead, as you say, I shall return. I shall hunt you to the ends of the earth and you shall share his fate. Whatever agonies he endured during his passing shall look peaceful compared to what I will do to you./
Horvath scowled slightly, unable to respond in kind. "Threats, Veronica dear?" he asked, mockingly. "How...Morganian of you."
Veronica stiffened, slowly turning back to face Horvath. There was something undeniably dark in her expression and Horvath flinched, suddenly reminded of Morgana herself.
/Do not test me, Horvath,/ she warned, her tone becoming dangerous. /Or, you shall see exactly how similar to Morgana I can become!/
"Ma'am, you can't be in here," the officer repeated, placing a firm hand on Veronica's shoulder. Her expression cleared instantly as she turned, nodding to the officer and allowing him to lead her out of the room. Hoyt was still standing there, his eyes blank.
"Take him back to holding," the older officer ordered, pointing at Horvath over his shoulder.
Hoyt didn't move. Veronica quickly repeated the instructions telepathically, using her magic to reinforce the command. Hoyt nodded, taking Horvath's arm and leading him back to his cell.
The officer glared at Hoyt's retreating back, clearly planning on having words with the insubordinate detective later. He turned back to Veronica, still looking rather surly. She spoke before he had the chance.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked, adopting an authoritative attitude.
He scowled, clearly not liking her tone. "Captain Renick," he introduced. "I'm sorry, but-"
"Captain," Veronica repeated contemplatively. "Yes, I believe you will do nicely. I need some of that man's personal items, captain."
Five minutes later, Veronica walked quickly out of the precinct and hailed a cab. A pair of shiny, leather shoes were sticking out of the top of her purse. She gave the address of the Arcana Cabana to the driver, releasing her hold on Detective Hoyt and Captain Renick as the taxi turned the corner. She didn't think they'd remember what they had done, but she'd place a spell on the store to conceal it from view once she got there, just in case. She finally had the lead she needed to find Balthazar and she wasn't about to let any unnecessary distractions keep her from it.
. . .
Veronica paid the cab driver, not worrying about the change as she got out of the car. She paused only long enough for him to start driving away, pulling her jacket more tightly around her as the wind whipped through her hair, before casting an illusion over the entire building. She briefly studied her work, nodding in satisfaction as she hurried inside.
Becky was sitting behind the counter petting Arista, who had been laying on the blonde's lap but sat up abruptly when Veronica opened the door. "What did you find out?" Becky asked, quickly rising to her feet (cat in her arms) when she saw the sorceress' expression.
Veronica moved swiftly to the back of the store. "The police apprehended Horvath. He as much as confessed to taking Balthazar. He said..." She hesitated, letting the words trail off before shaking her head. "It matters little. Where is Dave?"
"Uh, sleeping. You guys were out all night, remember?" Becky asked, looking at the sorceress a bit oddly.
Veronica stopped, blinking in surprise. "Yes, of course. He must be tired. I should let him sleep for a few more hours. I can get started without him," she decided, nodding to herself as she moved to the door leading to the basement. "Oh, Rebecca," she said, turning to the blonde. "I've placed a concealment spell on the shop. You need not worry about customers today."
Becky blinked, taken aback by the statement, but the sorceress was gone before she could question it.
Some hours later, Dave joined Veronica in the basement. "Becky said you found something?" he asked, quickly crossing the room to her side.
"Yes. Horvath's shoes," she said, motioning the shoes on the table. "They can't show us where he's been, but we should be able to get a sense of the what was around them at the time."
Dave blinked. "Uh, what do you mean by a 'sense?'" he asked.
"A feel for the area. The type of terrain, the amount or lack of living beings in the area, things like that," she explained.
"That doesn't narrow it down a lot," Dave pointed out.
"It would be easier if we had an actual starting point," Veronica admitted. "Then, we could enchant the shoes themselves to walk backwards, as it were, literally retracing his steps."
"Why can't we do that?" Dave asked.
"Because the trail would end when he got in a car or on a train," Veronica explained. "And this city is much too large to travel by foot, especially when transporting someone else."
Dave had to agree with her logic. "But, how are we gonna know when he had Balthazar?"
"When you can feel his aura close by."
Dave just stared at her, clearly confused. "Doesn't Balthazar have to be here for us to sense his aura?" he asked.
"When you walk somewhere, you leave your scent behind. It is faint, but animals with a keen sense of smell can track it," she explained. "The same is true of your aura. Wherever you may go, you leave a trace of your passing behind. When we find that, we will know Balthazar was with him."
Dave still looked a little lost. "But, what does Balthazar's aura feel like?" he asked. "I've never tried to feel anyone's aura before."
"It is very similar to the way his magic feels," Veronica said after a moment. "There are subtle differences, of course, like...a voice singing verses speaking normally. You will know it when you feel it," she assured him, handing him one of the shoes.
"Alright," Dave said, not sounding too sure of himself at all. "What do we do?"
"Clear your mind," Veronica instructing. "Focus on the shoe. Feel what it feels. The soft touch of fingers on the laces, the harder feel of wood beneath the sole..."
Dave did as Veronica instructed, closing his eyes to feel the impressions more clearly. He felt a soft crinkle under the heel, knowing without opening his eyes that there was a piece of paper underneath it. "Okay," he said, softly. "I think I got it."
"Good. Now, envision an hourglass with the sands flowing up instead of down." Veronica paused. "Actually, it might be easier for you to imagine a clock with the hands spinning backwards. Instead of what the shoe feels right now, we are going to move back a little." She fell silent as she focused on the spell. "Angular objects pushing from all sides...swaying motion, back and forth..."
"It feels like...you," Dave added. "It's saturated with your magic. Your purse! When you brought them in here."
"Very good. Now, I've already been retracing his steps for some time, so I need to you to try to jump to where I am..."
"Wouldn't it be easier to jump back to when Balthazar was first taken?" Dave asked.
"It would," Veronica agreed. "But shoes do not have a sense of the passage of time. There is a sort of memory, if you will, of places they've been, but sitting in a closet for a week would be the same as sitting on the floor while someone puts them on. We must move backwards through all the impressions if we are to find when they were near Balthazar," she said. "Do you understand?"
"Yeah...I guess."
"Good. Then, let us continue. We have several days yet to cover, and every step will have its own impressions to sort through."
. . .
Several hours later, Becky descended the stairs to the basement, plate in hand. She didn't want to interrupt if the were close to finding Balthazar, but it was almost three in the afternoon, and neither sorcerer had come up for air all day. She paused as she heard Dave and Veronica's voices, not quite sure what to make of the conversation.
"Gas," Veronica said.
"Brake," Dave answered.
"Gas," Veronica replied.
"Brake," Dave repeated.
"Gas."
"Bra- wait, is this a standard?"
"I do not know. The last car was a standard, was it not?"
"Yeah, but the pedals are different."
"It seems he is exiting the vehicle, regardless," Veronica stated.
"Yeah." There was a pause. "Veronica, are you getting this?"
"...Yes." There was disgust in the sorceress' voice.
"What is that?" Dave asked.
"...You do not wish to know."
"Is that- oh. Oh. That's disgusting!"
"Let us hope he did not linger."
"Forget that, I'm actually touching the shoe that walked through that!"
"Knock, knock," Becky called, rounding the corner in the stairs. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but I brought you something to eat." There were a variety of vegetables cut into bite-sized pieces on the plate with a bowl of dip in the middle. "I figured you were probably busy, so I thought something you could snack on while you worked would be better."
"Thank you, Rebecca," Veronica said, smiling at the blonde as she set the plate on the table.
"No thanks," Dave said, grimacing. "I'm gonna have to scour my hands before I touch anything that goes in my mouth." He shook his head. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff on the sidewalk that you walk on everyday."
"So, finger food was a bad idea?" Becky asked.
"Not at all," Veronica assured her. As she spoke, a carrot lifted itself from the tray, scooped up some dip and flew into her waiting mouth.
Dave concentrated on the tray, one of the olives quivering before raising about an inch in the air. It fell back to the plate as Dave's gaze snapped back to the shoe in his hand. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, not wanting to have to start again if he lost his connection. "I guess I need more practice multi-tasking," he muttered. "Thanks, Becky, but I'm not all that hungry. Some of this stuff is really gross."
"Well, I'll leave you to it," Becky said, taking her leave.
"Thank you, Rebecca. Let us press on, Dave," Veronica said, levitating a cucumber slice to her mouth.
"Right."
Becky headed back upstairs, plopping down on the couch. She sighed, looking around the room for something to do. She'd already swept and mopped the kitchen and both bathrooms; vacuumed the living room, hallway, and bedrooms; washed the towels (although the bathroom rugs were still in the dryer); and cleaned the stove. "There may not have been much to do watching the store, but at least I felt like I was doing something," she murmured, more to break the silence than anything else. Although the store was never packed, she'd had at least one person come in every day. She pushed herself back to her feet and headed into the kitchen.
The shelves were starting to look a little bare, so Becky grabbed the pad of paper off the fridge and started putting together a grocery list. She was done in a matter of minutes and grabbed her jacket, opting to not interrupt whatever the sorcerer's were doing in the basement. "I'll be back in a little bit," she told Arista as she walked past the counter, scratching the cat's ears. Arista meowed when Becky pulled her hand away but remained laying on the counter, unwilling to move even to beg for more attention.
It took Becky about twenty minutes to make it to the store. She hurried inside out of the wind, grabbing a small cart from the front and began collecting items on her list. She was about halfway through when her phone rang.
"Becky?" Dave's voice asked from the other end of the line. "Where are you?"
"I'm at the store," she answered. "We were running low on groceries, so I decided to make a run while you guys were busy." She paused. "Did you find anything?"
"Yeah, but it's pretty vague," Dave said. She could easily picture him rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. "We've got a lot of places that fit the bill, so we were gonna head out and start looking."
"Alright."
"Are you gonna be okay by yourself?" he asked. "We can swing by and pick you up."
"No, that's fine," she assured him. "I'd only be in the way. Besides, I'm not done with my list and I've got some frozen goods anyway."
"If you're sure..."
"I'll be fine," she assured him. "Just go find Balthazar."
"Alright," Dave said. "Oh, and Veronica says, 'Don't mind the fence, just go right in.'"
Becky blinked, not quite sure what she was supposed to make of that. "Okay." She hesitated before pressing on. "Dave, Horvath hasn't worked alone in the past. Be careful, okay?"
"Don't worry. I've learned a lot since I last faced him and I've got Veronica with me. We'll be alright," he assured her. "I'll see you later tonight."
Becky nodded. "See you later." She waited until Dave hung up before replacing the phone in her pocket and continuing looking for the items on her list as she mentally complied a 'to do' list for when she got back to the shop. As much as she hated sitting back and watching others doing all the work, sitting at home waiting was even worse.
She took her time gathering the remaining items on the list, picking up a few extra things that caught her eye as well. The checkout lines weren't too long and she was soon back out in the biting wind, hurrying down to the nearest subway terminal. Three bags swung from her hands, bumping against her legs despite her best efforts to keep from smashing the bread or bruising the fruit.
Becky was glad when she finally turned onto the street where the shop was, her steps quickening in her haste to get inside. She stopped abruptly when, instead of the familiar dark green door with frosted glass, she was met with a tall, rickety fence around an empty lot. The wooden slats shook as the wind whistled between them and the faded 'Keep Out' sign slapped loudly against the gate. Although she knew this was where the shop was supposed to be, Becky had the oddest feeling that this lot had been empty for a year or two at least. The only thing that seemed odd about the situation was that she would have any business being there.
Becky glanced to the numbers painted on the curb and at the street sign on the corner. Both indicated she had the correct address. There was even the same flooring store on one side and the realty company on the other. The only thing missing was the Arcana Cabana.
Becky was toying with the idea of calling Dave when she remembered Veronica's odd comment. "Don't mind the fence, just go right in," she repeated to herself. She walked up to the gate, doing her best to ignore the sense of wrongness and the urge to turn around. It was unlocked and swung open easily. The ground was bare, a few patches of weeds growing along the fence, but there was nothing else in the entire lot. The urge to leave was stronger now and Becky gripped the bags tightly, repeating Veronica's words like a mantra as she stepped inside.
She blinked, finding herself standing just inside the door of the shop. The sense of 'not belonging' had vanished as soon as she crossed the threshold, leaving her off-balance and a bit breathless. She glanced over her shoulder almost nervously, noting the street outside looked just the same as it always did (including the steps up to the shop's door). She couldn't help but stare for a few seconds. She was tempted to step back outside, just to see if all she'd be able to see was the empty lot with a fence, but instead reached out and closed the door. "Right," she breathed, heading towards the stairs up to the apartment. "No more going outside until Veronica undoes whatever spell she put on the building." She laughed suddenly, shaking her head. "Just when I think I've gotten used to magic, something else comes up that takes me completely by surprise." She shrugged, taking the stairs two at a time. "At least, it's never boring."
. . .
Most people didn't like the dark. It represented the unknown, a hidden entity that could strike without warning. Whether the fear was real or imagined, from a child seeing the eye of a monster peering out of the closet to a pedestrian knowing someone was following her down a dark street, that fear was present to some degree in most people. Balthazar didn't fear the dark. He'd faced the evil things that took refuge there and emerged victorious time and again. But, he was sick and tired of blackness being all that he could see day after day. Even his dreams had been affected, all the colors washed out and leaving two shades of black in their wake- pitch and barely lighter than pitch. It was starting to grate on his nerves.
Balthazar laughed breathlessly, the sound harsh in his ears. "You'd think I'd have more important things to worry about than not being able to see," he breathed, heaving himself back to his feet. His body ached and trembled, but he pushed the discomforts aside, focusing on his goal. Although he couldn't remember how many times he'd turned the crate already, he knew he had to be close to the edge by now. Two more turns, maybe, and he'd be out. He'd have a new set of problems to deal with then, but he'd happily tackle those once he got out of this one.
As he threw himself against the wall, Balthazar noticed that something was different. The crate seemed to be rocking a bit more than usual and he could almost swear he had felt it slid a bit- not far, maybe only and inch or two -at one point. Although he knew it was likely only his imagination, he increased his efforts, putting everything he had into throwing himself against the wall.
The crate shuddered from each impact and Balthazar fancied he could almost hear the grating sound of wood scraping against wood beneath the sound of his body slamming into the wall. This was also dismissed as wishful thinking, although his efforts did not decrease.
He smiled when the crate finally tilted up far enough to roll onto its side. His smile vanished when, instead of falling onto the flat surface, it started to slide, the scraping of the wood unmistakable now. He had finally reached the edge.
Fear and adrenaline flooded his body in equal parts as the crate tipped and slid completely over the side. Logically, he knew the difference in time it took for a crate to tip on its side verses falling off the stack would be negligible at best, but time had seemed to slow and he had ample time to run through each worst-case scenario in his mind.
He heard the deafening crunch as the crate hit the ground a split second before he did. Pain registered briefly before consciousness was ripped away from him and he knew no more.
. . .
It was late by the time Dave and Veronica got back. Dave had called Becky on the way and she had steaming cups of hot chocolate waiting for them.
"It is freezing out there!" Dave announced, gratefully accepting the warm mug and taking a drink.
Veronica nodded her agreement, her hand shaking from the cold as she also accepted a cup from the blonde. "It is unfortunate that so much of our search must needs be done on foot."
"But, at least we know that the security guards are out in force tonight and doing their jobs," Dave noted sarcastically.
"Security guards?" Becky asked. "Where were you looking that there'd be security guards?"
"As close as we can tell, Horvath left Balthazar in an abandoned building near the shore," Dave explained. "Now, you wouldn't think that there would be that many abandoned buildings in Manhattan, would you?" He paused, downing the rest of his hot chocolate. "Well, you'd be wrong. There are actually quite a lot- and more than a few of them have at least one security guard stationed there, despite the fact that no one is using them. Why, is beyond me."
"Did anyone see you?" Becky asked.
"No, but it was close thing more times than I'd care to admit," Dave stated. "Especially once the sun went down. Light tends to draw attention, no matter how dim it is."
"We should have kept searching," Veronica said quietly.
Dave gave the sorceress a pained look. "Veronica we needed a break- both of us," he stressed. "We've been out there for hours- we probably searched around half the island!"
"Then, there is only one more half to search," she countered. "Why stop now?"
Dave almost groaned, dropping his head in his hands. "We're stopping because we're cold, we're frustrated and we're tired," he said, sounding like this wasn't the first time he'd had this argument tonight. "And tired people make mistakes. It's not like we can just go around shouting Balthazar's name- we could walk right past him and not even know it!"
"He has already been missing for six days!"
"Which is exactly why we need to exercise a bit of caution now! A mistake could cost us another day or two, easily!" Dave met the sorceress' eyes, trying to make her understand. "Believe me, I want to find him just as badly as you do, but we can't afford any mistakes. This isn't a race, Veronica."
"It might just be one," Veronica whispered, her haunted eyes staring unseeingly at the table. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if seeking comfort from something only she could hear.
"We'll start looking again first thing in the morning," Dave promised. "But, we need to get some sleep first. Both of us."
Veronica blinked, her expression unreadable as she met Dave's eyes. "Then I shall retire," she said, leaving her hot chocolate untouched as she left the room. "I bid you both goodnight."
Dave sighed again, shaking his head.
"What was that about?" Becky asked, still staring where Veronica had disappeared around the corner.
"I think the stress is finally getting to her," Dave stated, running a hand through his hair. "She's scared and just a little manic, which is not a good combination in normal people, much less a powerful sorceress. We would have stayed out longer looking, but she was starting to take a more, ah, violent approach to dealing with the security guards."
Becky blinked in surprise. "But, Veronica's been the most level-headed one out of all of us since..."
"Yeah, I know. But tonight..." Dave trailed off, shaking his head. "She was starting to scare me, Becky. She's getting desperate. I don't know if it's because we finally have a lead or what, but she's acting like time is running out. And she won't say why."
Becky nodded. "Hopefully, a decent night's sleep will do you both some good," she said.
"I hope so. I'm exhausted and I slept for five or six hours this morning. As far as I can tell, she hasn't slept at all today." Dave sighed, glancing towards the hall where Veronica had disappeared. "I hope we find Balthazar soon. For her sake as much as for his."
Veronica leaned against the door to her bedroom, trying to calm her mind. She could see the wisdom in Dave's words but she was having a difficult time being logical right now. Horvath's triumphant face sneered at her in her mind's eye, his words repeating and echoing in her ears until they drowned everything else out.
"You may as well give up. It's already too late for Balthazar."
Veronica covered her ears as if she could block out his voice, shaking her head. Her nails dug into her scalp as she slid down the door, her entire body trembling from more than just the cold. She sat there for a few minutes, trying in vain to regain control of her emotions. Her eyes jerked open as she felt a slight weight on her thigh. Arista was there, climbing into her lap and purring as she rubbed against the sorceress' arm.
Veronica stared at her for a few seconds, tears blurring her vision. She picked up the cat, holding her tightly against her chest. Arista meowed at the rough treatment, but did not struggle to get out of the sorceress' grasp. Veronica's ring glowed as she cast a silencing spell on the room and wept bitterly.
. . .
To Be Continued
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