Stolen Compass (The Painter Mage Book 4) (4 page)

“I haven’t really been asking any questions,” I said. “Lately, it’s been more about staying alive than anything else. At least now I know the shifters won’t kill me, but there are plenty of creatures out there that want one or both of us dead.”

“You’re an idiot, Ollie, you know that?”

I set the chair down and turned to her, pulling her against me. I was over a foot taller than she was, so Devan made a point of standing on her toes as I drew her close. Like all of the Te’alan, she was strong—she’d be able to kick my ass if it came down to it—but she let herself be held. I tingled as I touched her. The first time I felt it, I figured it was her magic, but maybe it was all about the way I felt about her.

Leaning toward her, I kissed her. When she kissed back, the medallion went cold, telling me that she used her magic. Probably making her skin glow softly. The more I saw her do it, the more I realized it was pretty sexy when she did.

“Why am I an idiot this time?” I asked.

She tapped me on the chest with her palms. “What have we found in Conlin?”

“You mean with respects to the Elder?” Devan nodded. “Besides the house, the shed, the welcome signs on the outside of town, the sculptures scattered all over the park, now there’s a pattern in the damn trees.”

“Yeah.”

I tipped my head, trying and failing to come up with what Devan had already seen. “What’s your point?”

“Only that Jakes has already told us that there’s more to Conlin than we realized. Your father protected this place. There’s a reason for that. Now that he’s gone and Jakes wants
you
to protect it, don’t you think there’s got to be a reason? Don’t you think we should learn what that reason is?”

I looked out of the garage and stared at the house. Damn, but she was right. Conlin had meaning. Not the kind of meaning that I’d always given it, a place where I’d first grown up, where I’d learned to walk and ride a bike, or where I first started learning the patterns from my father. It had that kind of sentimental meaning, but that was for me. Conlin had meaning for others, too. The shifters were here. Tom Brindle was here, a tagger who had learned from my father, who my father had been willing to teach when he so rarely had offered. There were probably others with magical power in Conlin, only I hadn’t really learned all about the city yet to know. If I took Jakes up on his suggestion to protect the city, then maybe I’d learn.

But the meaning was more than even that. There was power here. Not just my father’s power. There was enough evidence of that scattered all over the city. The house, the shed, hell, even Jakes’s back yard with the way the fence wrapped around it shutting down painter power. But the doorways around the city spoke of a deeper power, a connection across the Threshold. My father would have known about that. It would have been the
why
to the question around choosing Conlin.

“I’m in over my head here,” I told Devan. “We’ve got your father and the Druist Mage on the other side wanting us to return. We’ve got Nizashi and shifter painters coming here to attack, risking the Threshold. And then we’ve got all the crazy shit on this side of the Threshold.”

“And you don’t think you can keep me safe if we stay here.”

My heart hammered a bit in my chest. After nearly losing her the last few times, I couldn’t stomach the thought of it happening. I’d do whatever I could to keep her safe.

“Then make it about keeping Conlin safe. That will keep me safe, too,” she said.

I hugged her again. “De’avan,” I said, using her formal name, “you’ve got to stop making sense.”

We stood like that for a moment until lights coming down the driveway interrupted us.

“Expecting someone?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Think she was?” I hooked my thumb in the direction of where Taylor had disappeared into the house. A bright halogen light glowed through the window, the painted patterns placed on the glass by my father giving the light a muddy appearance.

“Don’t know. She really doesn’t know anyone in town,” Devan said. She managed to make it sound like that bothered her.

“Well, anyone she’s met, she’s either lied to or somehow nearly gotten killed.”

“There is that.”

“It doesn’t make her a bad person, though. I mean, look at her—”

Devan punched me in the chest—
hard
—but I still managed to laugh.

The car slowed to a stop. Part of me thought that it might be Jakes, but he’d run off so quickly, the next time we saw him, he’d probably just come up in wolf form and shift. Lights flicked off and the door popped open with a soft squeal. The light in the garage made it hard to recognize the car.

Devan didn’t seem to have any trouble and hurried toward the car. “Tom? What are you doing out here?”

Tom Brindle stepped away from his car. I noted that he left it idling with a soft rumble. It was an older model, and from what I remembered seeing at the diner, he managed to keep it in pretty good condition.

“Devan,” he said, nodding politely to her. “Oliver.” He turned to me and ran a hand across his brow. “Sorry to come out here so late and interrupt you, but Sam said it was pretty urgent.”

“Jakes? What is it?” I asked.

Tom shook his head. “I’m not really supposed to say, just supposed to get you to come with me.”

I glanced at Devan. That didn’t sound good. Jakes had gone loping off in wolf form and now he wanted me to go with Tom? Something magical was going down, and now Jakes figured he’d rope me into it. I hadn’t even decided if I was going to be the city’s magical shield, but it seemed Jakes wasn’t willing to give me a choice.

“You know, I’m pretty tired, Tom. Why don’t you tell the good officer he can find me tomorrow? It’s getting late and I had a full day—”

Tom shook his head and wiped his hand across his forehead again. Could he actually be sweating?

“What is it?” I demanded.

Tom looked to Devan, his face now a shade of white. “Ahh, Oliver. You know your father was always so good to me. Brought me along when no one else would or maybe could.”

“Tom?” I was actually getting a little worried. “Is it something of my father’s?”

There had been enough instances since we returned that I wasn’t sure I wanted another.

“Not
your
father,” he said. Then he shifted his gaze to Devan again.

My heart fluttered, and I began to suspect what would have made Jakes run off as he did, and what would have Tom so nervous.

“It’s hers,” Tom said. “The Trelking is here.”

T
he first part
of the drive passed in relative silence. I held onto the wheel of Big Red, gripping it tightly, almost as if trying to squeeze the life out of the steering wheel. The patterns Devan had etched into the wrap around the steering wheel pressed into my palms. I kept my breathing steady but only by focusing on it and making a point of forcing away the worry.

Tom’s taillights blinked in front of us. I was surprised Jakes hadn’t made him fix them.

“What do you think he’s going to want?” I asked Devan. We made a turn onto County Road 22. The blacktop surface had just been redone. The county put a layer of gravel atop it that splattered up as we drove. Some sort of protective coating, they claimed, but it was mostly an annoyance. Had I been driving anything of any real value, I’d probably be pissed.

Devan twisted in her seat, her hands balled in her lap, and looked over at me. “For him to cross the Threshold himself means that whatever he wants is pretty important.”

“But you don’t think it’s you.”

Devan shook her head and turned so that she stared straight through the window. Her eyes wouldn’t have the same trouble mine did seeing through the darkness. Even the weak lights of the truck didn’t really matter for her. “No. I don’t think he’s here for me.”

I touched the pocket of my jacket where I kept the cerys, the token the Nizashi carried with them, a gift from the Trelking that granted his assassins increased magical power. It was why they were usually so hard to kill. It was what Nik had wanted, the reason he had attempted to reopen the gateway my father had buried in the park. Without the cylinder that had allowed me to capture him, he would have opened it and reached across the Threshold, using the cerys to attack the Trelking. But even that wouldn’t be reason enough for Devan’s father to come across.

For him to cross the Threshold placed him at risk. The Trelking, like all creatures found on the other side, had amazing magical power, but crossing the Threshold changed the magic in unpredictable ways. Some it weakened. Others were strengthened. Most simply had different abilities when they crossed. Devan hadn’t been able to explain why. She’d spent the time since our crossing trying to understand what had changed for her and had three months of head start on controlling it. Somehow, I didn’t think that really mattered when it came to the Trelking.

“Why did he ask for us?” I said.

Devan didn’t look over. “You know how he is, Ollie.”

Yeah, that was the problem. I
did
know. Him asking for us would serve several purposes. He’d know we were here, but I don’t think we ever expected to keep that secret. Would he know about the new connection between Devan and me? With the Trelking, I wasn’t certain it even mattered just as long as Devan ultimately did what he wanted. Since he had committed her to the Druist Mage, he would have little patience for anything that
we
wanted.

But I couldn’t help think that there might be additional reasons. Appearing here, near the city I was quickly learning was a place of strength for my father, might serve as a message to me, reminding me that even the strongest painter was nothing compared to the Trelking. Maybe he wanted revenge for what happened with the Nizashi, though I don’t think he was ever sentimental about things like that.

Tom’s car took another turn, this time leading off onto a gravel road. I didn’t recognize where we were, at least not at night, and without Tom leading us, I doubted I would have found this on my own. That meant he was leading us to one of the crossings I didn’t know about.

“We could ignore the summons,” I suggested. I didn’t really think that was a good idea, but had to suggest it. The thing about the Trelking was that if he wanted us to meet with him, we would meet with him. I could hold out, keep us away from the crossing, but that risked him surprising us sometime when we least expected it. At least this way, we knew what we were getting.

“You know we can’t,” Devan whispered.

“Can you tell where it is?” I asked.

Devan nodded. As one of the Te’alan, she would be able to find the crossings. They were created by magic, after all, and things of magic had a certain signature she could detect. Sculptures and paintings were different. They didn’t hold any magical power unless the painter pressed it into them. It made them harder to detect, which was why I had some value on the other side.

“We’re close,” she said.

Tom took another right. I began to suspect where we were. The Cotton River flowed through here, leading toward town. The river brushed against the northern edge of the city before winding farther south. There would be a park nearby—Riverbanks Park—but I’d never reached it coming from this direction. It wouldn’t surprise me to find that we were in the park.

Then Tom’s car stopped. I pulled up next to it and shut off the truck. There weren’t any other vehicles out here, but I hadn’t really expected anything. The shifters wouldn’t need them—they could run out here faster than they could drive, and the Trelking would have come across the Threshold.

I took Devan’s hand. My skin tingled as I did.

She turned toward me, and I saw fear in her eyes. “I thought it would be longer before I saw him again.”

“He’s not taking you back, Devan.”

“And you think we can prevent it if that’s why he’s come? You know my father. You know how he is. If he wants to take me back across the Threshold, there’s not a whole lot that we can do.”

She pushed open the door, climbed out of the truck, and stood near the hood, waiting for me.

I double-checked the satchels of powdered ink I carried. When Tom had come and told us that the Trelking was here, I had grabbed a few different colors in case he brought more of a party with him. I usually carried red because it helped augment power, useful for the explosive patterns I was so good with, but I’d made certain I had black, as well. It was a dangerous color—nothing but death really came from black—but it was the one I was most attuned to, making it more potent than any others. Then I grabbed brown ink. Not one that I would normally choose, but green wouldn’t really help against the Trelking. The charms Devan made filled my pockets, and I grabbed one that would make a protective circle.

“Are you coming?” Devan asked.

I slipped my arm around her shoulders. “I had to make sure I was prepared.”

“Like there’s anything you can do if he wants to attack.”

“I can make it difficult for him,” I said.

Devan flashed me a smile, the first I’d seen from her in some time. “Do that.”

Tom waited for us. A crescent moon gave some silvery light to the night, but barely enough for me to see. I wondered how Tom fared. Devan, as one of the Te’alan, had eyesight that gifted her with the ability to see clearly in the dark, so I let her lead.

“I can wait here for you,” Tom said.

I patted him on the shoulder. I didn’t know him well, something I realized I needed to correct. He was a friend to my father, close enough that my father had entrusted him with some of his secrets. He might only be a tagger, but that was really all that I was, too, so I knew better than to pass judgment based on his magical skill. He probably knew things about the city that I’d need to know. For me to succeed—for me to learn what I needed to help keep Devan and me safe—I’d need to sit down with Tom and find out exactly what my father had entrusted him with.

“Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine here. It’s only her father,” I said.

Tom’s mouth pinched, and he cocked his head, trying to determine if I was joking. “I’ll wait.”

“You should get back to the Rooster,” I said. “The dessert crowd is probably coming in.” I nodded when he gave me a questioning look. “If this goes wrong, you won’t want to be here, Tom.”

He glanced from Devan to me and then nodded, hurrying back to his car. The door opened with another loud squeal—no hiding the fact that we were here, I guess—and he started it with a soft catch. Tom quickly backed away, leaving us standing alone.

“What do you think, Devan? Ready to go face this?”

She laughed. “You know, I’d say this was the worst thing we’ve dealt with since coming to Conlin, but that’s not really true, is it?”

“At least we know he won’t try to kill us immediately,” I said. “I still have nine and ninety years to serve.”

Devan snorted. “And he still wants to use me to appease the Druist Mage. So both of us are screwed.”

“How far?”

Devan pointed toward a narrow path leading away from the gravel road. A faded sign next to the path caught some of the moonlight, but not enough for me to see. “Off the road a ways,” she said, “and back near the water.”

I didn’t ask how she knew where the river would be found, but that told me we were in the park. If the Trelking did decide to kill us, at least we were bound to be discovered. “Ready?”

She looked over at me and our eyes met. We both nodded at about the same time and then turned and started off down the road.

I
heard
the rushing of the river before I saw it. Riverbanks Park had some actual rapids that you could navigate by raft or canoe, but only when the water level was high enough. Given all the rain we’d had over the last few months, hearing the river roaring through here didn’t really surprise me.

Devan led us up a loose dirt path. It had been a few days since it had rained and dust kicked up and settled in my nose as we climbed. The air felt cooler here than in Conlin, and had that slightly slimy river stink to it.

As she climbed, I felt the draw of the gateway. For me to sense it—a painter—then it had to have a significant pull. Usually, it took a pretty impressive show of magic for me to sense its use.

We stopped at the top of the hill. Spread out below, was a wide clearing along the edge of the river. A series of three tall oak trees towered over the water, set almost precisely apart so that they would make something like an equilateral triangle. I knew without being told that it was the gateway.

A shifter sat outside the edge of the trees, staring toward the center. The shifter was smaller than some, but its yellow eyes glowed against the moonlight no differently than any of the others I’d met.

I looked for Jakes but didn’t see him. Was he still here or had he returned to the city?

“I don’t see him,” I whispered.

Devan pointed toward the center of the trees. Shadows draped around the branches, obscuring everything beneath them. “He’s there. He knows we’re here.”

I sniffed. “Probably heard Tom’s car. You’re really going to have to help with that. It’s kinda junky.”

“Yeah, remind me to do that when we’ve got some spare time. We’ve had so much of that lately.”

“Hey, it’s not all my fault. The last few encounters were all about you.” I paused and stared toward the trees. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and he won’t be quite as powerful on this side of the Threshold.”

“Right. Think we’ll get that kind of luck?”

I didn’t need to answer. Devan took my hand and pulled me with her down the gentle slope toward the trees. With as tightly as she squeezed, I couldn’t have resisted if I wanted.

When we reached the bottom of the slope, the shifter swung its head over to stare at us. There was a flicker of something—recognition maybe—across the golden eyes, but then it turned and stared toward the center of the trees.

“How many are here do you think?” I asked Devan.

“There are three of the Asalat.”

The deep and melodic voice came from the center of the trees. I had last heard it almost six months ago. Shortly after that, Devan and I had begun planning our departure. Even now, the timbre of his voice sent chills down my spine. There was power simply in the
way
he spoke.

Any hope I had that he wouldn’t be as powerful on this side of the Threshold was dashed. His voice had the same effect on the other side.

“They will not interfere,” the Trelking said.

I glanced at the shifter. I’d already gotten that sense from Jakes. Now they seemed like nothing more than magical watchdogs. They wouldn’t be a lot of help if the Trelking decided to start throwing around his power.

“Guess that answers that,” I said.

Devan stepped forward toward the edge of the trees. I went with her. As I did, I pressed on the charm I held in my free hand, ejecting the black ink so that it burst into the air and settled to the ground in a perfect circle. Then I infused it with power.

Had it been another color, it might have been more than I could handle after all the effort I’d spent studying the orb today, especially when trying to hold back a creature of power like the Trelking. But this was black ink, the color I was most attuned to, and Devan had added a slight twitch to the pattern it created so that it became not only a protective circle, but an arcane protective circle. It took much less of my strength to power it that way.

The Trelking stood across from us. In the shadows of the tree, it was difficult to see exactly what he wore, but he looked to be dressed in a long jacket with heavy tails hanging below his knees. He held a staff in one hand and leaned on it casually. His face was clean-shaven, but I couldn’t see it well. Only his eyes pierced the shadows, glowing much like Devan’s skin did when she used her power.

Behind him, the crossing remained open. Wind gusted through it, out across the Threshold. At least I understood why his power hadn’t diminished; he was still connected to it.

For a Te’alan, he was a tall and thin man and came almost to my eyes. I made a point of meeting his, refusing to look away. He could probably attack through my circle of protection, but it wouldn’t be easy for him.

“Impressive work, De’avan,” the Trelking said. “You have perfected the dispersal of ink. Your people will be so proud of your contributions to their safety.” The sarcasm dripped from him.

Devan tensed next to me, but I made a point of squeezing her hand tightly. I didn’t want her to step beyond the protection. The Trelking would not take her from me without a fight.

“And you, my Painter,” he said it as if it were a title. To him, it might have been. “You have defied me by returning, leaving the Te’alan weakened. Your term of service has not changed.”