Page 11

Chapter eleven

H allow cooked dinner for them all that night. Using the time Ash was out picking up Charli and Willow, he made a delicious hearty stew, not unlike cottage pie. Afterwards they all moved into the lounge for cups of tea.

Ash had brought his father’s book of magic to the table and had been reading it while the others talked.

“So, what all is in there?” Willow finally asked.

Ash stuck the business card back in the book to mark his page. “There’s defensive magic... maybe it could hold off The Quetch?”

“Can we protect the house?” Willow looked toward the window, at the darkness outside.Ash nodded. “Yeah, I found some charms for habitat protection, but my magic is weak. Hallow might have more luck with it.”

“You need mana, like in Delicious in Dungeon, ” Charli said.

Ash glanced at Charli and then at Willow. Should he tell her what their father had said about Charli? Or would that just freak Willow out too much? No need to add fuel to the fire.“What’s Delicious in Dungeon ?” Hallow asked.

“Speaking of mana...” Ash looked at Willow and then back at Charli. “Dad said something weird today. He knew that I had magic.”

Willow sat with her feet tucked under her, sewing a patch onto a torn woollen blanket. She set the needle down. “You what now?”

Ash related the conversation he’d had with his father. How bizarre it had been, but so matter-of-fact at the same time.

Throughout, Charli got more and more excited, bouncing in place, her phone for once, utterly ignored.

Hallow watched her, beaming.

“He knew... Granddad knew about magic? What the fuck?” Willow said. She pointed at Charli. “Don’t ever repeat that.”

“Which part? The swearing or the part about magic?” Charli’s eyebrows raised. “Any of it,” Willow replied.

“So,” Ash said, before Charli could argue. “I’m going to cast a defensive spell on this house, with Hallow’s help. If that’s okay?”

“Wait, you can’t just drop this and run.” Willow glared, folding her arms. Ash had been halfway to getting up but now he fell back into his seat.

“Sorry.”

“This is some multi-generational bullshit.” Willow folded the blanket and set it aside. “And I don’t get why I’m left out?”

“Just because?” Ash ducked his head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. Dad said that it was me and Charli. I really want to put something around the house, to keep something like the Singh’s dog happening again. To keep Charli safe.” Willow sighed. “Fine. Whatever, go do that.”

Ash and Hallow walked around the house as part of the ritual. Ash held the book open and recited the words written within it, guessing at the pronunciation. Part of the spell was in English but part was another language he didn’t recognise. And considering how many different languages he’d encountered on his travels, that said a lot.

Hallow held a soft pink glow in his hands, the gentle light beating back the shadows. His pink hair reflected the light, almost seeming to be a light source itself.

Ash’s heart felt weak every time he looked at Hallow. He wanted so much to hold him again, but this was too important, he had to focus. When they were next to the hedge, most of the way around the house, Ash heard something rustling. The hedge didn’t move, but there was definitely something in it.

“Keep going,” Hallow said.

But Ash had to know what was causing the noise. He reached out to touch the leaves. “Ash!” The hedge erupted with shadows. They took the form of hands, arms all reaching out, reaching to grab him, to snatch the book.

Ash stumbled, almost dropping the book as he fell against the side of the house. He lunged for the book, only just catching it and keeping it open on the same page. Hallow’s magical energy flared bright as a flare, dazzling Ash. He heard a shout, the sound of Hallow’s feet scuffling on the pavers. “Ash! Finish the spell!”

Blinking to clear his vision, Ash peered at the page and read the rest of the spell as quickly as he could. The magic tore out from inside him like lightning, friction on his oesophagus.

The shadows vanished, but so did the light. When he looked up, Hallow had gone as well.

“Shit.” Ash’s stomach dropped and the void in his chest yawned open. He bent double, overwhelmed by the twin sensations. “Hallow! Hallow where are you?” His voice strained, cracking, raw from the magic and his own terror.

He’d fucked up, big time. Why had he touched that damn leaf?

The porch light clicked on. Willow appeared in the doorway. “Are you okay?”

Ash straightened up, one hand pressed to his breastbone, trying to hold himself in his body. His other hand cupped his mouth and he shouted again. “Hallow!”

They searched around the house, over the hedge in the neighbour’s yard, up the street, inside the house, until Ash had to admit it. Hallow was gone.

They went back into the house, defeated. Ash’s stomach felt like it had gone entirely. The void in his chest cracked so wide he felt like it must be visible even here in the real world.

He pressed his hand to his sternum again, reassuring himself it was solid.

Willow took his elbow and ushered him into the kitchen. “You look awful.”

Ash tried to take a breath to steady himself but his whole body felt tense. He was painfully aware of the ache of the void. He was trapped in it, his fear overriding everything else.

“We’ll find him.”“How?” Ash spun in place, tearing his arm from Willow’s grip. His eyes raked every corner of the room as if Hallow might appear in the breadbox or under the bananas. He couldn’t waste a single moment.

If The Quetch had Hallow it was certainly hurting him. He couldn’t prolong Hallow’s suffering. He had to go, to use the portal in the backyard. He had to rescue Hallow, now.

He made for the door but Willow yanked him back by the arm. “Where are you going?”

“To get him back, of course. I messed up the spell, and now he’s gone. Not by choice, he was taken! I have to.”

Willow looked like she wanted to argue with him, but Ash stared her down.

He’d spent his life running away from difficult things. He ignored pain, bottled up his unruly emotions, hid from unwanted truths... Now he was determined. His path was clear and he was about to take it. “Will, please, I have to do this.”

Willow narrowed her eyes. “Why? Why are you putting yourself at risk?”

“I love him.” Ash said it with a force that reverberated through him. A magic incantation. The void in his chest shrank. “I love him and I have to save him. Imagine if it was Charli who was taken? Nothing would stop you chasing after her.”

Willow stepped out of his way, a smile breaking over her face, and something else—relief perhaps?

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Dad’s book! I had it just before...” Ash cast around. Willow picked it up off the table. “You dropped it outside, so I grabbed it.” “Thank you.” He kissed her cheek, stashed the book under his arm and dashed out the back door.

Ash went to the magic circle in the grass, lit the candles. Without hesitation he used his sense of magic to tear the shroud Hallow had placed over the portal asunder, and stepped through. It hurt, sparking a shadow pain somewhere deep in his void. Ash ignored the sensation. That was a problem for later. His jaw clenched, as he looked one way up the alleyway and then down the other.

It was deserted. Did anyone actually live in the alleyway aside from The Quetch?

How was he going to find The Quetch? It must have a lair of some kind, somewhere it slept, somewhere it would have taken Hallow. He walked towards the book café door. Not because he thought The Quetch would be there, but to check Hallow wasn’t hiding inside. Maybe some part of Ash simply needed the comfort of the place. Running on pure adrenaline, he didn’t question his instincts.

He pushed the door open and found the place unchanged. The same dusty smell of books filled the air, mingling with the enticing aroma of coffee. There was no one at any of the tables.

Mina, the owner appeared. “Welcome back!”

“Have you seen my friend? The pink-haired guy I was here with last time?”

Mina shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Not since you were last here.”

“Thanks.” Ash turned and talked back out. “Fuck.”

The owner called something after him but he didn’t have time for small talk. He walked up the Alley. Should he check the bar next? What other doors had they opened? Had he marked his own door? His thoughts whirled, all problems and no solutions.

He paused only to look back and see the bandanna from last time, still tied to the doorknob. He pushed on.

He opened the door to the bar, not expecting much. It was dark inside, the only person visible a satyr sweeping the floor. “We’re closed.”

“Right. You haven’t seen a pink-haired man have you? He has wings too, from ...” He searched his memory for the name of Hallow’s home. “Grefenlands?”

The satyr shook her head. “Nothing like. Been a quiet night.”

“Thanks for your time.” His heart thundered as he strode further in the valley. He was in danger of losing his adrenaline. If that happened, he might fall into despair.

His task felt hopeless. It’s an endless alleyway that leads to dozens, no, probably thousands of other worlds. I can’t open every door.

He tried the closest one. The metal knob burned his hand. He pulled back, shaking off the pain.

The Quetch was probably torturing Hallow. Terrible scenarios rushed through his mind. The Quetch pulling Hallow’s wings off, making him cry, scream... sucking the magic out of him like a vampire. He couldn’t stand to imagine it.

Ash stopped walking. He clutched his head with his free hand and groaned. What was he doing?

This was foolish. He could barely use magic but he’d dashed in here, expecting to find Hallow. Rescue him? He known about the world of magic for mere days. He was delusional. He was a fucking travel influencer. He should go home, take the next sponsorship he was offered and head to a resort. Forget this whole thing. Do what he was good at.

The void gaped open, tugging at his pain and his self-doubt until it was all-consuming.

His father’s words echoed in his mind. “ Listen to your gut. Your heart knows what’s what even if you don’t have a solid understanding of magic.”

He didn’t have a solid understanding. He had dashed in without thinking, led entirely by his heart. But if Brendan was right, his heart was the key.

Ash crouched.

He curled his body around his father’s book and listened to his aching heart.

You’re wasting time, a voice in the back of his head said. Anything could be happening to Hallow while you try this. There’s no guarantee it will work.

He shook his head. Focus!

He thought back to the silent hours at a temple in Kyoto. The sound of water running. The call of birds. Nothing else.

His heart was afraid, uncertain and yearning in equal parts.

His attention strayed to the void.

He took a deep breath in, exhaled through his mouth. Okay, the void wanted attention? He could focus on that for a moment.

In the centre of the emptiness, he found a soft pink glow.

Hallow.

There was a tiny piece of Hallow in his void.

Without another thought, Ash surrendered to it. He gave over all his worrying, his stress and fear. All the energy went instead to the pink glow. He envisioned himself cupping his hands around it, protecting it as if it were a flame on a breezy night. “Hallow,” he breathed. A prayer. A longing plea. “I’m here. I’m going to find you. Hold on.”

Resolve straightened his spine.

Ash stood upright, dropping his hands to his sides. He let the magic inside him fuel the pink glow into a shining beacon. It drew him up the alleyway, the opposite direction to where he’d been going.

The alleyway was silent. But in a different way to the temple. This silence was pregnant with malicious intent.

Ash’s footsteps echoed, bouncing off the walls like a martial drum. He ignored the oppressive sensation of being watched and kept walking. Cupping his hand over his chest, he protected the pink light, his link to Hallow. He was on the right track, following the beacon. He would find him and he’d do whatever needed to be done.

The alleyway darkened. Rubbish collecting in piles on the cobbles. Dried leaves, discarded food wrappers, dirty clothes. The graffiti and posters on the walls were ancient, faded. There were fewer doors. It felt like the part of the alleyway people forgot, or perhaps...avoided.

Ash swallowed a lump in his throat, focused his gaze on the pink light and kept walking.

There, up ahead. The alleyway darkened into shadows. Was it a dead end? No — something told him it was the lair of The Quetch.

His steps faltered. He had to prepare.

Ash shoved his father’s book into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back. He pulled his shirt over it and tucked it in, safe. He imagined his magical power resting on his shoulders, falling and settling on him like cherry blossom petals. Becoming part of him. Pink and powerful, like Hallow’s. Its presence thrummed through him, responding to his summoning.

He cleared his throat. “I know you’re in there. Give him back. Now.”

The shadows moved.

Ash’s stomach roiled. The void expanded horribly wide and fast, taking up more of his body than it ever had before.

Wildly, he suppressed the sensation and focused on the pink glow. He had to do this, no matter what happened to him, He had to free Hallow.

Chains clinked as the shadow moved again, forming into the hulking, twisted shape of The Quetch. Huge, clawed hands extending to either side as it pulled itself out of the shadows, slow and sure.

Ash’s void constricted and expanded again, as if trying to break free from him. He coughed twice, gathered his magic into his hands and threw it at the monster.

The magic burst out of him with a sharp tearing, like the sensation of tearing off a band-aid ratcheted up by a hundred. It hurt, wrenching his bones and making him aware of every tendon. He cried out as it hit the Quetch, still connected to the magic somehow.

The beast fell to one side, its rumbling voice diminished to a low whimper of pain.

The fall revealed the slumped form of Hallow, his pink glow faint, his wings fluttering.

“Hallow! I’m here!” Ash shouted.

Hallow looked up, a faint smile pushing through the sadness. “The chains...”

Ash’s eyes raked the shadows. He saw a black rope made of shadows wound around Hallow’s torso and neck, partially pinning his wings.

Ash summoned his power and threw it like a softball, aimed at the chain where it anchored Hallow to the base of the wall. The chain broke without a sound, the smoke vanishing into thin air.

Ash’s heart soared, this was going to work!

Hallow stood up. The relief on his face gave way to horror.

The Quetch rammed into Ash’s side. Ash had never been hit by a car, but he imagined this would be what it felt like. A hard, solid impact that he could do nothing but endure.

Winded, Ash landed on the hard cobbles. He scrabbled for purchase trying to escape the hulking, damp form of The Quetch. His void spread to encompass him, aching, strange and overwhelming. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t draw breath. It hurt when he tried, a stabbing pain. A broken rib? If it had punctured his lung he didn’t have long. His gasps sounded hoarse, rasping and animalistic.

The Quetch roared, drowning out all sound, drowning out his own breath and his very thoughts. Its jaws were massive, full of ichor-dripping fangs.

Ash scrambled inside himself, looking for his magical power and finding only dregs. He grabbed the dregs and shoved them at The Quetch. The last thing he could possibly do to fight.

All he could feel was teeth, digging into his neck, tearing his throat open. Absolute agony, the worst pain he’d ever felt.

Then, nothing.

Only the void.