Chapter eight: A Sharp Interruption

Becky flicked the volume on her iPod up a few points. Veronica's throaty chanting was louder than any of Becky's new age music, not to mention how the sound got under your skin like only magic could.

Becky was pacing now, back and forth, away from the circle. She suddenly seemed to have a lot of energy, and nothing to do with it. Not only was the ritual driving her up the wall, but she couldn't stop worrying about Dave, his parents. She didn't think she'd ever seen him that scared. Was it Horvath? Morgana? Something worse? Or, then again, it could be a sick prank call.

Becky felt very, very alone. She wished someone else had stayed behind. Preferably Dave of course, but she'd even settle for that computer guy. What if the ritual went wrong? She wouldn't know what to do. For all she knew about magic it might have already gone wrong. If nothing else, the magic seemed to be affecting the hour glass, if the swirling sandstorm within was anything to go on. Becky was trying not to look at it, every time she felt drawn in, like she couldn't look away. Three times she'd found her face up against the glass. Becky didn't want to repeat the action; as much as she wished Balthazar her luck she had no desire to join him.

Becky jumped at the sudden appearance of a keening buzz. She yanked out her earphones, but that only made it worse. It was as if the sound was coming from inside her eardrums. Suddenly, it stopped. The effect had only lasted a few seconds, but it felt far longer.

There was a concussive blast from somewhere overhead. A billow of dust and debris issued from the stairs. Becky knelt to touch a particularly large shard. It was a piece of the front door.

…

The wards and magical alarms around the abandoned train station had been very well constructed, Maxim Horvath would gladly admit. Much better than the last time he had been here. Still, they'd been disabled easily enough.

Now as Horvath descended the steps, breathing in stale air, he was more on guard than he'd care to admit. Ysabelle had promised Dave Stutler would be long gone, and that grabbing the hourglass would be a simple matter of breaking and entering (assuming the boy hadn't taken it with him, in which case its retrieval would be Ysabelle's responsibility).

Horvath sensed magic. He also heard and then saw it. Veronica floated an inch above the ground within an elaborate diagram, her ethereal chanting echoing eerily in the high-ceilinged room. The hourglass was nowhere to be seen, nor was the Prime Merlinian or any of his little friends, although the empty pizza boxes in the corner suggested they had been there at some point at least.

Horvath turned to Fred, and pulled the sword from its sheath on the undead assassin's back. Fred did not react. "Find the hourglass," Horvath ordered. "I've a little unfinished business of my own."

As Fred shuffled into the shadows (after looking through the pizza boxes), Horvath delicately approached Veronica. He carefully stepped over and around the glowing runes in the floor, careful not to upset them. Interrupting the ritual might awaken the sorcerer, and Veronica was one opponent he did not wish to confront, despite his newly enhanced powers.

Within seconds he stood before her at the center of the runic designs. Veronica floated an inch of the ground, her eyes tightly shut, and her dark hair billowing about her slightly in an immaterial wind. Even after so many years she was beautiful.

What if things had been different, what if she had not spurned him, Horvath wondered. What if he were the content one? He would be the content one. He would never have gone to Morgana, he wouldn't even be here today, perhaps Merlin would still live. He wouldn't have to rely on maniacs like Ysabelle and her pet zombie. He'd have the greatest partner a man could have in all aspects of life. He'd been weak, and she had broken him. Would Balthazar have been so weak, would he have betrayed them? Could he Balthazar's roles in this eternal drama have been reversed? Horvath couldn't help but thinking that whatever the cost, Balthazar would not, could never follow in his footsteps.

Shadows and dreams, they would not serve him well. Best to put them out of his mind. Besides, Veronica's chanting was reaching a crescendo, and he didn't particularly want to see what this ritual was meant to do.

He crouched before her, stroking her flawless cheek. She didn't even know he was there. For the best, most likely. "I miss you," Horvath whispered, "Just not enough to regret this." And he stabbed her through the gut.

The sword went in below her ribs, so sharp it was like a knife through butter. Horvath curved it upward till the tip, stained red, burst out of her back.

Veronica crumpled. Her chanting halted, the illumined runes flared and went out, now no more than chalk. Blood dribbled from between her lips. Her eyes hadn't even opened.

Horvath turned his back. He now heard sounds of a struggle coming from the locker room. The door burst open as a young woman with tangled blonde hair was hurled out to land slumped on the floor. Fred strode out after her, carefully holding the hourglass to his chest with both hands. So he'd found it, good. Unsettling as he was, Fred had been just as helpful as Ysabelle had promised.

Horvath walked to the girl. He remembered this one, she was an effective hostage and one he regretted not killing. Becky Barnes? That sounded right. The Prime Merlinian's romantic lead and a major contributor to sabotaging the ritual of the Rising.

He wild eyes took in Horvath and Veronica, lying in her own blood with a sword still through her stomach.

With a scream, Becky threw herself at him. Horvath simply swung his cane upward. The handle bashed her in the jaw, Becky slammed back to the floor, blood on her face.

Horvath stroked the head of his cane. Becky was pulled into the air, where she hung, immobilized, her toes inches from the floor.

"I can't say that you alone as Veronica's protector was quite what I expected," Horvath told her conversationally. "Ysabelle must be doing her job well. Regardless, it makes things easier for me. We've the hourglass and now we have you. If there's one thing I've learned it's that when you're challenging Dave Stutler, hurting his little friends is the way to get ahead."

Becky said nothing, which wasn't particularly surprising considering the magic had her completely frozen.

"I hope you won't object to playing the part of a little extra leverage one more time?" Horvath asked her. "No? Well all right then."

With Becky floating behind him, and Fred following the hourglass, Horvath made for the exit. He didn't look back. There was nothing for him here.