Eternal Fires Read online

  “The ancient art of manifesting as a huge crow.” The wizard who stepped forward was one of the researchers from the Magic Lab. His youthful face and blond curls made him look more like an apprentice angel except for the grim expression. “It’s black magic, the darkest of dark arts. The kind of magic that irrevocably binds the sorcerer’s soul to hell.”

  A loud gasp drew the crowd’s attention. A young she-wolf sprang from one of the lobby chairs and stared at them with rounded eyes. “Are we all going to hell? Are the birds going to kill us?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You’re going to be fine. No one’s going to die.” Ari wound through the crowd until she reached the woman who had to be her eleven thirty appointment. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  The Magic Council President, recently arrived on the scene, raised his voice. “I believe this discussion is best held inside our chambers, not in the waiting room.”

  Ari threw him a grateful look. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right there.”

  He nodded and ushered the others toward the Magic Hall. His expression warned her to be careful what she said to the young woman. Ari didn’t need the reminder. Unless she was calm and matter-of-fact, she could precipitate public panic, even a wild, disorderly exodus from the city. She escorted the she-wolf to her office and spent several minutes soothing her fears and finding the referral she needed for dental care. Not every dentist in town was willing to look into a wolf’s mouth.

  Anxious to get to the meeting, Ari urged her toward the door. “I assure you, the birds outside aren’t like the crow you heard us discussing. You’ll be safe if you stay inside your house until we get the problem fixed. I’ll ask one of our weretiger guards to see you home.”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  Ari quickly made the arrangements and accompanied them to the front entrance.

  The guard nodded at Ari over the young woman’s head. “I’d like to get a look at these birds for myself. Maybe I’ll snap a few pictures for my kids.”

  Good idea. Treat this as just an interesting phenomenon.

  “It must be some odd migratory issue,” she offered, as she waved them out the door. “The Department of Natural Resources will know what to do.”

  Yeah, right. As if human conservationists could deal with hordes of crows controlled by ancient magic.

  On her way to the council chambers, she called Samuel, the De Luca mansion’s weretiger security chief, and brought him up to date.

  “Verify Andreas is OK and nothing’s bypassed the shutters.” There were monitors on the windows and doors of the master bedroom, but Andreas was so defenseless when sleeping that she’d feel better if Samuel checked on him in person. “Then do a walk-through of our grounds and the surrounding neighborhood. We need a rough estimate of how many and how close they’ve gathered. And have someone climb up and look on the roof. I want no surprises. I’ll check with you when my meeting’s over.”

  Raised voices greeted her as she opened the double doors to the Magic Hall’s main chambers. The president stood the instant he saw her.

  “Enough,” he said loudly. “The guardian is here now. It’s time to get down to business.” He pulled on his long white beard to smooth it and raised a shaggy eyebrow. “I assume we are all agreed that the crows are our problem.” His eyes glinted as he scanned the room. No one raised a dissent. “Then let us proceed in a more orderly fashion.”

  A young dwarf put up his hand. “Can someone explain this Mahmo thing? I’ve never heard the term before. What kind of magic is this?”

  “Evil magic,” someone said.

  “Yes, I understood that,” the dwarf said impatiently, “but is this witchcraft or wizardry or something else? Who’s capable of doing this?”

  The president looked around the now silent hall. When no one stepped forward, he smoothed his beard again and sighed. “Since our research wizards have returned to the lab, I’ll attempt to give you the history. It may take a while, so please be patient.”

  He folded the pleats in the front of his robe as if using the time to pull his thoughts together. “In the early days, there were two branches of wizards, the white and the black. Each derived their power from the opposing sources of good and evil. An inevitable war arose between them, bitter, brutal, but over time neither side was winning. Finally, it was decided to have two champions meet to determine which branch would rule the wizardry world. The two men chosen had a personal animosity for each other, although the reason for their quarrel isn’t significant here.”

  Ari’s lips twitched. Then a woman was involved. Only two things generated that much testosterone: women and territory. And wizards had never been landowners.

  She focused on the rest of his story.

  “They agreed to pit their raw magical strength against each other and to forego the use of all other abilities such as shape-changing or illusions.” The president spread his hands in a dramatic gesture. “The fight was long and exhausting and lasted for two days and two nights as they exchanged bolts of magical lightning until the entire area sizzled. They appeared equally matched, and neither held an advantage after all that time.

  “At dawn on the third day, the black wizard disappeared. He reappeared moments later diving toward his opponent in the manifestation of a giant crow, surrounded by hundreds of smaller crows. Caught off guard by this defiance of the rules, the white wizard eventually fell to his knees under the attack and would have been defeated if he hadn’t gathered the strength to rain fire around them. The smaller crows burned or fled, but the crow that was the black wizard remained untouched. He attacked again and again, clawing and pecking unmercifully. Blood poured from the white wizard’s wounds, and his defeat seemed certain.

  “In a last act of desperation, he grabbed the crow’s wings and hung on. A silver dagger suddenly appeared. No one knew from where. Perhaps the white wizard had hidden it in his robes or someone threw it from the crowd. Whatever its source, the white wizard seized it and plunged the blade into the crow’s black heart. The creature shattered into hundreds of black crystal shards.”

  The president paused and shook his head gently before he continued. “The white wizard had won the fight, but he didn’t realize the creature’s evil spirit lived on in those black shards.”

  “Hundreds of them?” someone asked. The crowd rippled with astonishment, skepticism, even fear.

  The president raised his hands to quiet them. “Allow me to finish. Even though he lacked a full understanding of their nature, the white wizard gathered every shard he could find and buried them deep in consecrated soil. Unfortunately, a few were missed.” The old wizard studied his rapt audience. “The surviving shards possess a dangerous magic. Each carries a spark of the evil spirit of Mahmo, the black wizard. Any Otherworld being who holds one in his hands has the power to manifest as a crow and command common crows to do his bidding.”

  There was a moment of stillness when he finished.

  “So how many shards are out there?” Ari asked.

  “To our knowledge, only three. Two are safely contained: one by the Federation of Magic Councils, the other by the Witches’ League in Europe. The location of the third is unknown.”

  Ari stifled a grim sigh. Not anymore. One of the elders had it.

  “How does your story help us?” a council rep asked. “We can’t use fire to rid ourselves of the crows as he did. We’d burn down the town.”

  The wizard lowered his brows. “I was not suggesting that as a solution, merely giving you the history.” Several voices began talking at once, and he raised his hands again. “First, we must learn if this is truly Mahmo’s magic. There is a slim chance this is something else, even an ecological abnormality.”

  “Aw, come on.” There were similar murmurs from some in the crowd, but other reps argued for caution.

  “If it’s a natural phenomenon, we can discourage them with a few wind spells,” a young wizard suggested. “It’s easy enough to find out.
Anyone coming with me?” He turned toward the door.

  “Excellent idea.” The president grabbed his staff and pushed through the crowd.

  After a moment, everyone followed. Ari caught up with the two sorcerers and offered her own skills. They held a short conference before the three of them stepped outside, leaving the crowd to watch from the safety of the building.

  “Let’s not damage anything,” the president cautioned. “We don’t want to interrupt city services or bring down trees. This is only a limited test.”

  The president went first. He lifted his staff and blew up a brisk wind that swept the nearest birds off their perch on the utility wire and carried them down the street. They returned as soon as he stopped the spell.

  The younger wizard added heavy rain and a deafening clap of thunder to gusts of wind, but his result was the same.

  Aided by a capsulated wind spell from her magicks pouch, Ari raised a small tornado that swirled around the nearest tree and dislodged the birds. They settled into nearby trees and returned one by one when the spell dissipated.

  “That was a bust,” she said.

  “At least we proved they don’t respond like normal crows.” The young wizard turned to the president. “Satisfied they’re possessed?”

  “I am. Now comes the harder task, finding a solution.”

  As they streamed back to the council chambers, Ari sidled up to walk beside the president and kept her voice low. “The story you told…I’ve heard parts of it before. The white wizard was Merlin, wasn’t he? And you recited it as if you’d been there. You’ve always avoided telling anyone your name. Are you…?”

  “Merlin?” he finished. “Not that Merlin. But he was a distant relative. I am his namesake.” His eyes held a hint of humor. “Now you know my secret. It always seemed presumptuous to use his name.”

  Ari didn’t agree, but she understood his unspoken request. She wouldn’t betray him, never speak his name in public…nor would she ever again think of him as anyone but Merlin.

  * * *

  While the Magic Council met to discuss their alternatives, Ari slipped outside and called Ryan. She told him about the Magic Council’s tests on the birds and gave a very condensed version of the Mahmo history.

  “I’m hoping the council will come up with something soon. What did DNR say?”

  Ryan snorted. “They were all excited and mumbling about global warming and altered migratory patterns. They’re more interested in theories about why they’re here than in how to get rid of them. I tried to explain there might be an Otherworld connection, but they blew me off. So, no help there.”

  He paused, and she heard the frustration as he went on. “We’ve had a couple of close calls in the last hour. Kids shooting BB guns were harassed by diving birds but no one got hurt. In a separate incident, a farmer’s dog was attacked when it went after crows eating a rabbit. The dog was injured badly before the owner chased the birds away with a broom.”

  “He was lucky they didn’t turn on him. We need to warn people to leave them alone.”

  “Already done,” he said. “The radio and TV stations are broadcasting public service announcements, and I have cars patrolling the streets. But it’s only a matter of time before some hunter thinks he can solve the problem. If I thought guns would work, I’d shoot them myself, but there’s too damned many.”

  What would the crows do if someone started shooting them? Would they retaliate? Ari shivered. She watched occasional late, late night TV with Andreas, and visions from a classic Hitchcock movie painted a vivid picture in her head of birds dive-bombing and killing anything that walked the streets.

  “I’ll asked the Magic Council to get the word out to our people. If we’re careful, maybe we can keep things quiet until a counterspell is found.” She paused for emphasis. “But if anyone sees this Mahmo crow, they have to call me or the Magic Council. There isn’t a gun made that can kill that kind of evil magic.”

  * * *

  The council came up with several plans for defense—from erecting a barrier that would seal the Magic Hall from attack to extending a shield to cover all of Olde Town. It would take tremendous power to put either shield in place and maintain it. It would also seal off the hall or the entire district from the outside world. Not a very workable solution for anyone. It had the additional drawback of sealing thousands of crows inside the town, rather than out. A better plan needed to be found.

  And it needed to be humane, unless the crows attacked. In that case, they’d have to be driven off or eliminated by any means and barriers erected against their return. The council discussed several plans for termination. There was bound to be significant collateral damage from any lethal solution such as fire, poisonous gases, or bird diseases. And a huge mess to clean up. It would be kept as a last resort.

  As hours wore on, the situation continued to be peaceful. The crows maintained their distance, and people gradually grew less fearful of their presence. Against the recommendations of the authorities, the public returned to their normal activities. The crows remained a hot topic of interest, and by evening, a local theater took advantage of the phenomenon by showing The Birds. Ryan tried to get the production shut down over concerns it was too inflammatory but was told his efforts violated the theater owner’s first amendment rights.

  Ari shook her head over that one. How about the rights to be safe, to live? Didn’t those take precedence?

  Andreas spent the evening making sure the wards were secure around Club Dintero and around the vampire compound in the warehouse district. He arranged for bird netting on the rooftops of both buildings and his Victorian home.

  “This doesn’t solve anything, you know.” Ari stood beside Andreas in the last light before nightfall and looked at the netted roof of Club Dintero. “Your wards would work just as well.”

  “The netting is for the club’s guests. Visible security makes people feel better. Even the droppings are a health hazard for our human patrons.”

  “The crows aren’t so good for mental health either.” She looked over her shoulder at the birds perched across the street. “I can feel them staring at my back,” she whispered.

  He took her hand and pulled her toward the building. “They should leave soon to roost for the night. If not, we can take the tunnel home. Perhaps they will be gone by morning.”

  It was a nice thought.

  * * *

  As soon as the sun came up, Ari checked outside her window. The trees across the street were darker than usual, the color deepened by the large number of crows. She swore softly. More than yesterday. It was only six o’clock, but she dressed quickly and went outside to look around. The fence line and roof were still clear. The wards were holding. She surveyed the entire neighborhood but saw nothing of a larger black bird.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, she went back inside for her morning half caf, the only caffeine she got these days. She patted her stomach. She was eager for delivery day to arrive for more reasons than one.

  She made an early patrol of the town. Everywhere she looked, the poles, fences, trees, and rooftops were black with crows. Citizens were busy setting up the usual and some not so usual bird deterrents: scarecrows, bird netting, mylar balloons, life-size pictures and statues of predator birds—eagles, hawks, owls. Several roofs had been lined with shiny cans, old CDs, or pie pans that flashed and sparkled in the sun. Front doors and low bushes and trees held colorful ribbons and strings that flapped in the breeze. The town looked as if it were in the midst of some macabre festival. As far as Ari could tell, the repellents were having little effect. The crows looked on in silent disdain.

  As the day wore on, the novelty wore off. Olde Town’s residents were tired of their visitors, especially with the numerous droppings that covered yards and walkways. The birds began to forage for food, turning over garbage cans, raiding pet dishes, and becoming a menace to cats and small dogs. People grew more angry than frightened.

  Because of the tension, Ari made a second
patrol of the city in the late afternoon. She’d just entered Goshen Park when she heard the first distant shots behind her. No! Some fool with a gun had just upped the ante.

  A barrage of shots followed.

  She whipped out her phone and dialed Ryan as she hurried toward the park’s west gate that opened into the Olde Town tourist district.

  He sounded out of breath. “We think the shootings are on the strip. I sent the nearest car to check it out, and I’m on the way.” She heard his car door slam.

  “I’m just leaving the park. Be there in five or less.” Ari glanced around as she jogged toward the strip. The crows were restless, flapping wings, a few sharp caws along the street. When additional shots sounded, several birds took to the air. Then more…and a rush as the trees emptied. The sky darkened. She looked up and felt her skin crawl. A large flock was directly overhead, matching their speed to hers. She cut over a street, and the crows followed.

  The vampire strip of bars and nighttime entertainment was just ahead. Two cop cars had it blocked off with their lights flashing. The scene beyond the cars wasn’t encouraging. Officers stood in front of a group of fifteen to twenty men in hunting gear or camouflage and armed with handguns and rifles. A mass of birds swooped and squawked around them. Ari doubted the two groups could hear each other, much less concentrate on a sensible conversation. When a crow dove at one of the citizens, pecked his face, and darted away, three rifles boomed. The bird fell to the street, and the flock went into a frenzy. The hunters started shooting wildly, the officers waded in to disarm them, but they were all busy fighting off the enraged crows.

  Ari threw a protective shield around the two groups. It prevented more birds from attacking, as the creatures flapped impotently against the invisible barrier. The ones trapped inside were batted down with hands and rifle butts. Ari looked around for more permanent shelter. Everyone needed to get under cover before more birds got involved.