“It’s magic,” Ben said. “Physics doesn’t enter into the equation.”
“Yes, it does,” Quinton argued. “So far, everything I’ve observed says that there are still working laws of physics, like the conservation of mass and fluid dynamics, in play with magic. So if you open an area of different pressure into this room, there’s going to be displacement of whatever fluid you have—be it air or water or giant Cthulhuan horrors from the slime dimension—until the pressure is equalized. Do you really want to risk psychotic killer jellyfish swimming around your head?”
Ben looked at Mara. “Maybe the yard is a better place. . . .”
TWENTY
It took a while to get the backyard into the physical and magical condition that satisfied all of us. Mara was most concerned about reinforcing the magical wards and clearing off the remains of the blood-magic charms and alarms the vampires had left behind. We all figured it wouldn’t surprise anyone by now if they were removed. The men wanted to clean up the yard, burying the scorched and trampled remains of whatever nasty creature Goodall had set on them, while Brian wanted to get the dog to safer ground. I really did start to think Rick was never going to get his pet back at this rate.
Mara and I also cleared off a bit of ground for a containment circle, marking the area with various signs and symbols as she directed, so if anything did come through the door, it wouldn’t get far.
In the end, it all proved pointless. I shuffled the wire puzzle until it clicked into a formation that chimed and hummed when brought near the ball, but when the two were put together, the key sinking into an invisible slot and twisting with an ease that surprised me, there was only a breath of hot, plant-scented air and a sound like something heavy settling into the earth at a distance. A small object dropped out the first time, but nothing else happened. Mara and I tried several configurations and spells, weaving various bits of magic together and trying to cajole the puzzle to work, but the effect only got slightly more fragrant with the odor of flowers and a rustle of invisible leaves that almost covered the persistent muttering in the back of my head.
We gave up and returned to sit on the back porch.Mara took the key from me and looked it over with the eye as I bent to pick up the thing that had fallen from the puzzle: it was a garnet earring that looked familiar to me. Mara finished her inspection of the ball and then pointed at the bauble in my hand. “May I look at that?”
I handed it over. She inspected it with the eye before shaking her head. “Neither of these is the second part,” she said. She handed the earring to me and I pocketed it.
The men had gone out into the yard where we’d cleared the circle and, at Brian’s insistence, were playing a complicated game involving a soccer ball, the dog, and two goalposts erected hastily between the side yard fences. I watched them for a moment, trying to figure out what they were doing. “It’s not the second part of what?”
“The key is not the second part of the mechanism,” she explained. “Nor is the earring, incidentally, but that’s a bit off the point since it seems to be here almost by accident. This key isn’t actually animus. It’s neutral. There’s another part somewhere. But beyond that, this puzzle ball seems to be keyed to a location.”
“Meaning . . . ?”
“Y’have to use it in the right place. So, y’need to get all the parts, mate them together, and then use them in the correct location, or nothing happens. Or nothing much.”
I blew a silent whistle. “Well, we wouldn’t want this to be easy, would we?”
“Certainly not. Consider the potentiaclass="underline" If the complete mechanism does open a way into the Grey that is invisible to the Guardian Beast, unregulated, and accessible to folk who’ve had no prior contact with magic at all, it could be disastrous. Imagine the cataclysm one ignorant action could set in motion. Whoever made this was remarkably careful, though why they didn’t destroy it when they were done, I can’t guess. It hardly seems the sort of thing y’leave lyin’ about.”
“They didn’t. They put the pieces away carefully, somewhere most people would never look for them: in plain sight.”
Mara frowned at me. “I don’t follow. . . .”
A memory jogged loose in my head and I pointed at the puzzle ball, which was resting on the table. “That was one of a pair that came from an old house that was torn down or damaged—I forget. Anyhow. Will got it from a friend of his who dealt in architectural antiques. He said the other one was stuck. But what if it wasn’t? What if the pieces are nested and to get the second one open, you have to open the other one first?” That jibed in a way with something my father had said about doors inside doors. Or was it mazes inside mazes . . . ? Whatever the case, I thought I was onto something. “Maybe whoever made it wasn’t sure he’d ever need to use it again, but he doesn’t want to risk just throwing it away—maybe he knows there’s going to be a need for it someday. So he puts the parts away and he gives the key to someone he thinks no one will ever associate with him: a kid in Montana, or a dentist in Los Angeles. Someone who has no apparent link to him.”
Mara nodded thoughtfully and went on with the idea. “Except that the magical world is really very small, so . . . it’s not entirely surprisin’ that the key ends up with a Greywalker.”
“The key and the first part of the machine—whatever it is.”
“Seems obvious you’ll have to get the rest of the pieces and take them back to wherever they came from. That should be where the mechanism comes together and where y’can activate it once you have all the parts.”
“That’s not going to be so easy: I got the ball from Will Novak and the last time I saw him, he . . . wasn’t doing very well.”
She asked and I had to tell her what had happened in London and how I had last seen William Novak bloody and broken, raddled by the horrors of imprisonment and torture at the hands of vampires and their pet sorcerer. By the time I was done with the tale, Ben, Quinton, and Brian had given up their game and come up onto the back porch. Grendel flopped at the foot of the steps, tired out and with tongue lolling. Ben took Brian inside to wash up and avoid the more graphic parts of my description.
“So they’re still in England?” Mara asked.
“I think not. The only thing Will was clear about was that he wanted to come home. The doctors didn’t want to release him but even if his mind was going, his desire to get away from London might have been enough to motivate someone to let him go. So he and his brother could be stuck in England or back in Seattle. It’s been almost a week since I saw them and I just don’t know.”
“You could call Michael and find out,” Quinton suggested.
“Yes, but it’s Will who knows where the puzzle balls came from,” I replied.
“No, Will knows who had them last. That guy would know where they came from. Michael might know which of Will’s friends that is.”
I conceded that. I wasn’t sure my relationship with Michael Novak was any better than my relationship with Will was after what had happened, but I could try. The only number I had for him was a London mobile, but I thought it unlikely he’d already have replaced the phone if they’d left England. It was hard to remember that I’d seen him less than a week ago because it felt like more.
I called, half expecting no answer, but Michael picked up and spoke from somewhere so loud it was hard to hear him. Clanging metal and shattering glass punctuated an erratic symphony of mechanical roars and human shouts.
“Michael,” I started.
“Hang on!” I could hear him moving around; then the noise faded down a bit. “Whatever you want, Harper, make it fast—have to get back inside before he notices I’m gone.”
“Who?”
“Will. He’s totally lost it since we got home. Come on, come on! We’ve got about a minute.”