Indeed, something enormous had pierced Calliope’s atmosphere, and it had gone down in flames toward the ocean to the west, where Stonewall, the citadel of Bajangs, stood proudly. For a moment, my chest tightened. My True Sight wasn’t capable of reaching so far across the continent, but from what I could tell, the city’s outline was still visible, close to the dark blue horizon.
An explosion occurred when the large object landed. I wasn’t sure where it hit the ground, exactly, as we were too far away on Mount Zur, but the impact was audible. Like the loudest thunderclap, followed by reverberations that traveled across the entire land. I was willing to bet the tremors were felt all the way back to Luceria. I heard glasses clinking on the table behind us.
“It fell there, yes,” Safira replied.
“We should go there first,” Rubia said.
But what was it, I wondered? With so much happening already, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for another negative development. We had our hands full. God-level enemies that were looking forward to wiping us all out, and half of my family stuck in crystal casings back in The Shade. We were scrambling against a countdown to the apocalypse, so…
What the hell was it this time? What else had the universe decided to hurl at us?
Kailani
After a series of in-depth searches through the Witches’ Sanctuary in the Supernatural Dimension, Grandpa Ibrahim came back with an old and rusty pencil case. In it, he’d locked Herbert, a ghoul the witches had tamed and that he’d trained specifically to serve him decades ago. We’d come to the decision that Herbert might be able to help us, both with physical tasks pertaining to Reapers—since we needed to learn more about them, now that we knew they existed—and with insights on this realm between the dead and the living, which these agents of Death treaded so carefully and quietly.
I met with Grandpa Ibrahim and Grandma Corrine in Luceria, leaving Lumi’s apprentices to look after the Calliope, Persea, and Nevertide sanctuaries that housed the fallen fae. My mom and the other witches handled The Shade and all the other planets where the Hermessi cults had struck. For now, I decided to focus on this Herbert issue.
Hunter was with the other GASP agents on Mount Zur, preparing another operation against the local Hermessi cult chapter. There had been rumors among the Imps living in the south that something unprecedented was planned, and that they were no longer recruiting fae. All the fae on Calliope had been affected and sealed in their individual crystal casings. No, this was much worse. These were cultists of different species, preparing for some kind of offensive, and they had Hermessi power on their side.
“What do we know about their warpower?” Grandma Corrine asked as we made our way to one of the private rooms on the top floor of Luceria. She carried a bag filled with food for Herbert, which she’d taken from the castle kitchen. He hadn’t eaten in a long time. He was bound to be peckish.
I knew Draven and Serena were both nearby, ready to come in if we required additional support. Draven’s Druid abilities could come in handy, and, given Serena’s sentry nature, we had a feeling she might be able to help with the ghoul, if, by some unexpected twist, we couldn’t. I trusted that wouldn’t be necessary, though. I’d never met Herbert, but Grandpa Ibrahim had assured me that he was tame and obedient. I was just being extra cautious, given our complicated circumstances.
“They wouldn’t be as strong as the Hermessi themselves, but they would likely be able to act on their behalf. That means beefed up elemental mojo, enough to make things harder for us,” I said, relaying some of the intel that Hunter had gathered from his field missions across the continent. Because he was a white werewolf and could turn at will, not just at night, Hunter was able to cross great distances and sneak into the more hidden settlements of the outer territories, particularly in the south and the southwest of the continent, where most of the cult rumors had been coming from. Due to the size of the terrain he could cover, my guy had come back with this alarming new information.
“What are Field and Aida going to do about it?” Grandpa Ibrahim replied. He placed Herbert’s pencil case on the round table in the middle of the room and pulled all the curtains on the window, reducing the amount of sunlight coming in. Noticing my curious expression, he smiled. “He hasn’t been out in over forty years, honey. We forgot about the Eritopian time-lapse, which affected him, too. He’ll be a bit sensitive to light, and I want him to feel comfortable. Ghouls can go on for a long time without nourishment and light, but it’ll still make them grouchy.”
“Meh, we’ve got the food part covered,” Grandma chuckled, nodding at the bag she’d left beneath the table.
“Back to your question,” I said. “They’re preparing several teams of Maras, vampires, incubi, and succubi to head out and start clamping down on the cult camps before they do any real damage. Of course, that’s the desired outcome, but not a guarantee that it’ll work. These are sneaky assholes we’re dealing with.”
“Shouldn’t they have some jinn or dragons on each crew? Just to maximize the results?” Grandma asked, eyeing the pencil case. I could tell that she was nervous, but I wasn’t sure why, since Grandpa had assured us that Herbert wouldn’t cause trouble.
“I think they’ll assign one of either or each to the teams, for sure,” I said. “Why are you staring at the box like that? Is something wrong?”
“What? No. No, not at all. I’m just a little concerned about how Herbert will react when he realizes how long he’s been in there,” Grandma Corrine replied. She looked at Grandpa. “Babe, he doesn’t have a clear notion of time in that box, does he?”
Grandpa shook his head, but he didn’t seem as concerned.
“And how fluent are you in ghoulish?” I chuckled, remembering that these once-fallen Reapers didn’t typically use words but rather hissing sounds and whispered growls to communicate, and that Grandpa Ibrahim had been one of the few who actually spoke their odd language.
He pointed a finger at his temple. “It’s all up here, Kale. It never left. It’s the upside of being a warlock with a ridiculously long lifespan. The brain’s built to keep up with all the information we gather over the centuries.”
“And I still forget to turn the coffeemaker off when I leave the house,” I muttered.
With electricity running through Luceria and the bigger cities of Calliope, where wind and sun power could be safely and properly drawn and amplified through magi-tech, Hunter and I had begun sprucing up our apartment within the castle. The coffeemaker and a few more human-world gadgets had become permanent fixtures in our home, because who the heck doesn’t love a hot cup of joe in the morning?
Grandma Corrine laughed lightly. “Darling, these are little things. Our minds aren’t designed to retain the trivial stuff. Ghoulish language, on the other hand, as simple as your grandfather might make it sound, is more complicated than you’d think. Ibrahim spent days trying to teach me a couple of sentences, and I barely made it to ‘Do as I wish or live in a box forever’ without sounding like I was having a stroke.”
The three of us doubled over before Grandpa Ibrahim brought the fun part of our meeting to an end and whispered the unsealing spell required to open the pencil case. My heart was quick to jump in my throat, anticipating about a dozen possible scenarios—despite Grandpa’s confidence, most of them weren’t positive. I was ready to react.
“Ready?” he asked.
Grandma and I nodded. He lifted the lid, and a grayish mist began to pour out and spill over the table. It looked like liquid smoke, and it captured my attention. Before it reached the marbled floor, however, the fluid mist began to shimmer and disappear.
Grandpa Ibrahim let out a short series of clicks and hisses. It sounded articulated enough to form a message to the entity that was beginning to form. The air rippled across the floor until the invisible mass gathered in one spot. It soon rose into a tall and clunky figure that was gradually becoming visible.
Long limbs with black, seven-inch claws on every lanky finger. Thin, pearly gray skin that stretched a little too much over the bones and the oversized joints and made him seem translucent with the way it reflected the little amount of light that was left in the room. The deformed head and big, cue-ball sized eyes. Their pupils were wide and black, making me feel like he was drilling holes into my brain. A short hiss from Grandpa Ibrahim made Herbert shift focus to him.
“Hi, Herbert,” I mumbled, mostly to myself. Creeped out, I took a couple of steps back. He didn’t seem aggressive, but the look in his strange eyes made me want to put some distance between us. My instincts were on full alert.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Grandpa said, while Grandma watched them both closely. He gave Herbert another string of articulated whispers, then bowed slightly, as if to salute him. “It’s been a long time, old friend.”
Herbert could understand us all very well, only he didn’t speak our language anymore. His irregular jaw and the long, curved fangs in his mouth made it difficult to make such sounds, which was why he was reduced to what we called the ghoulish tongue. Grandpa pointed at the bag, which the ghoul was quick to notice. That he was ravenous would’ve been an understatement. In less than a minute, the contents were gone, and Herbert was licking his clawed fingers.
“There we go. Better, right?” Grandpa murmured, and Herbert nodded faintly.
“Shall we get cracking on the questions?” I asked.
Herbert shot me a glance I could only describe as sullen. How am I pissing you off?
“He’s a little moody,” Grandpa Ibrahim replied, his smile slightly strained. “It’s unlike him, but then again, he’s been locked up for more than four decades, if not more. I can’t remember the last time we spoke.” He spoke to Herbert next, in their whispery dialect.
The ghoul shook his head slowly, then settled on the floor, crossing his bony legs. Once more, he looked at me, and I felt like I was in one of those bad dreams where my clothes were gone and I was in front of a massive crowd. I braced myself for the roaring laughter, but it never came. A troubling sensation tickled my brain, though, as if someone was picking through it with their bare fingers.
My pulse spiked. “Grandpa, I think he’s doing something to me,” I said in alarm.
“Don’t be afraid or resist,” he replied. “Herbert is just curious. He’ll only go as far as you let him. He simply wants to get to know you.”
