Levitator, page 27
If there was a way of getting him back, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
I bought two packs of anti-sickness tablets at the pharmacy, before walking quickly back to Fortress Records. I crossed the road to avoid a couple of vampires on Wardour Street, but otherwise the journey was uneventful.
The store was dark when I let myself in, with only a dim glow from the hallway light beyond the counter. Ashley and Raza were probably arguing upstairs, so I decided to leave them to it. I’d pop a couple of the tablets and try a few rounds of levitate-the-cup before it got too late. Raza kept the old Dansette and the bag of records in his room. Once Ashley had finished digitising dad’s spell discs, I’d be able to copy the incantations to my new phone — the third in as many weeks. It would make casting them a whole lot easier.
I locked the door behind me and made my way behind the counter, pushing my way through the curtain, the 1970’s string beads clickety-clicking as they swung together behind me. As I climbed the stairs, I heard Raza and Ashley talking in dad’s office.
“... Suspected something when she talked to him after we came back from Canada. The boy has Robert’s magic, but not his memories. They haven’t transferred and they should have by now.”
I hung back, just out of sight, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. They were discussing me. That much was obvious. But would Raza continue to be so open if I wandered in? I doubted it. He didn’t see me as a wizard. Didn’t entirely trust me. I decided I’d learn more by waiting and listening.
“Cassie wasn’t sure before,” Raza continued. “But after what Teaks said, she agrees. Robert, or at least some part of him, still exists.”
“I don’t believe it,” said Ashley. “He’s alive?”
“If he is, we should keep this to ourselves.”
“Why?”
Yeah, why?
“It’s complicated,” said Raza. “Did Robert ever talk to you about Salamander?”
“As a spell catalyst?”
“No. It was an experiment run by some of the Congregatio members. They wanted to modify the transference process. Hack it. So, instead of magic passing from one person to the next, some of it would be diverted into an enchanted container or vessel. Like an Augment, but bigger. Think of it as a magical backup, allowing a wizard to cheat death and be restored to life.”
Wait. Didn’t dad say something about a backup during his conversation with Cassandra in the beetle charm? I was sure he did.
“That’s great,” said Ashley. “This means we can get Rob back. He can help us fight Teaks.”
Hell, yeah. Father and son fighting side by side.
I heard Raza sigh. “It’s not quite that simple. First, we’d need the vessel with Robert’s consciousness inside it. The sword is the obvious candidate — Robert had it with him all the time. But we won’t know if it’s the right vessel unless we try it. Then, we’d need the incantation to activate the restoration process. Cassie has that. She told me she worked with Robert on the project. That said, she didn’t participate in the experiment and she doesn’t know if it will actually work.”
“That’s odd. Why wouldn’t she want her own backup?”
“Because of the last requirement. Restoring the consciousness of a deceased wizard uses Transference magic and that magic needs somewhere to go. Specifically, a living body with a blood connection to the subject. A daughter. Or a son… Cassie has no family left and no children to use a backup. Robert, however…”
“Oh...”
I didn’t like where this was going.
“As I understand it, the restoration process hijacks the blood relative, replacing their consciousness with the backup. It’s why the Transference hasn’t finished. It’s not by accident, it’s by design. If we want Robert back, we’ll need to sacrifice Merlin to do it.”
35
TALKING TO A SWORD
So your friends are plotting to kill you. What do you do?
It’s not a question most people ever expect to be faced with. Myself included. But when someone wants to download a dead wizard into your head, erasing you from existence in the process, you find yourself considering your options.
Option one: run. Just bloody run! Fast as you can. In my case, catch the first train back to Bath and hide out at mum’s, cocooned within the glittering shell of dad’s protective wards. Nothing would get through them unless invited and I was confident that neither Ashley or Raza had been. I’d be safe enough. Although, it occurred to me that I’d already invited Hamilton into our house and by doing so, I’d invited Teaks. That might pose a problem long-term.
Option two: confront the plotters. Go on the offensive. Walk right in and challenge them. No. First, I’d tip-toe downstairs and grab Ashley’s shotgun. Then I’d walk right in and challenge them. Stand up for myself. Tell them in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t anybody’s backup and if this Salamander ritual was the only way to get dad back, then the price was too damned high. And I wouldn’t go willingly. I would fight to the end (I’d point the shotgun to emphasise how serious I was). My father, I would say, had lived his life. He wasn’t allowed to steal mine.
But as I stood there listening to Ashley and Raza, I had a different idea.
“Peto cum humilitate…” I began to mutter.
There was a third option.
“Ma’haganonoma omnipotens, qui exstat in sempiternum.”
One that took a little bit of option one and a dash of option two.
“Laudo vos hodie, plus quam omnes… Et salutare tuum anima mea gratiam…”
A pre-emptive strike with the only weapon I had in my arsenal.
“Tu es magister ventis…”
I continued to whisper the spell, reciting the verses I’d memorised slowly and carefully so as not to spoil the casting. Then I waited for the surprised shouts and complaints that usually accompanied my imperfect acts of sorcery.
Hearing an angry yell from Raza, I guessed it was safe to enter dad’s study. I was relieved to see the spell had worked. Ashley and Raza floated up against the ceiling. Ashley tried unsuccessfully to push himself back down.
“Merlin? Was this you?” Ashley tried to grab onto the black bookcase, but missed. “We didn’t hear you come back in.”
Raza lay with his back against the ceiling and crossed his arms. “Of course it was him. I assume you heard some of our discussion?”
“Every. Word,” I hissed. “I know about Project Salamander. I know what it entails. I can’t believe you’re even thinking about it.”
“We’re not.” Ashley had stopped fighting against his magical buoyancy. “I’m not. In fact, I’m as shocked by this as you are. We would never do anything to hurt you.”
I shook my head and stared up at the shapeshifter. “I don’t believe you. I know how much you both miss dad. What a big influence he was. How he saved the faeries and is beloved by the dryads. I know that bringing him back would give you a much better chance against Teaks. But I’m not giving up my life to do it.”
“We’re not asking you to.” Ashley looked down at me. “This is all a big misunderstanding. Raza was simply telling me what he’d learned from Cassie. Nothing more. Let us down and we can talk.”
“I can’t do that. Firstly, because I think I’m safer at the moment with you two stuck up there. Secondly, because I never learned how to undo the spell and Raza hasn’t taught me.”
“Merlin. Listen…”
“No! Why should I? What is there to talk about? Will you try and persuade me to lay down my life for the greater good? Don’t bother. My answer is ‘no’. No freaking way! I trusted you, Ashley. I thought you and I were friends.”
“We are. You’re overreacting.”
“Am I? I think I’m reacting with precisely the right amount of hurt and barely-contained rage. You’re plotting behind my back, talking about getting the incantation from Cassandra, thinking about which vessel might work. That’s not what friends do. Friends don’t even consider it. They don’t betray each other.”
“It’s not like that. We were just talking. Getting all the facts straight. Nothing else.”
“Ashley’s right. Let us down, Merlin. This has gone too far.”
“So, now you get my name right. Bloody typical.” I turned to leave. I’d had enough. Heard enough. “As I said, you’re stuck. Get used to it. The spell will wear off in a few hours. In the meantime, I’m going to take my things and I’m going to go. I need some time on my own.”
“You can’t leave,” whined Ashley. “We need you.”
I spun back around and yelled. “What for?! I’m not the heir to Robert Strode’s magic am I? I was never meant to have it! That’s why I’m weak. I’m just a backup, apparently. A spare body for a man more interested in living forever than being a father to his children.”
“Merlin. Please. You’re getting this all wrong…”
“At least now I know why he really left; what he was really like. If you want to bring my so-called father back, you’re contemplating my murder. If you don’t see that, it makes you no better than him. It makes you no better than Teaks.”
If there’s a skill to storming out of a room effectively, I don’t have it. The only tactic I know is teenage door-slamming and my dramatic exit was thwarted by dad’s soft-close office door.
Ignoring the angry shouts from zero-g Ashley and a hovering Raza, I went back to my room and stuffed my meagre belongings into my backpack. I scooped up the three nausea-inducing Augments and packed them too. If dad still lived, I’d never fully inherit his powers. To continue using magic in the future, I’d need all the help I could get.
And spells. I’d need more than just a levitation spell to protect myself and my family. I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way along the corridor to Raza’s room. Unlike dad, Raza kept his room neat as a pin. Minimalist and a little monkish. Bed made. Clothes hung up. Books neatly arranged on the shelves. He’d left the old Dansette turntable on his desk, the orange bag of vinyl spells on top of it — I’ll have those, thank you very much. The records included Fitzgerald’s Trajectile Deflector, Prismatic Rifle V2 and Conroy-Allen’s Storm Hammer. I looked forward to trying that last one out.
I was just about to leave when I spotted dad’s sword leaning up against the wall. With the Air Augment around my neck, it no longer flickered between a plain black brolly and a samurai blade. Just as before, I could sense strong magic within it.
Was that him?
“Dad?”
It seemed impossible. And why was I talking to a sword? Get a grip. If Robert Strode was in there as Raza claimed, he obviously couldn’t speak back. Could he? Maybe this was a beetle charm type situation, where only I could communicate with him because we shared a genetic bond.
“Hello?”
This was stupid. If my father truly existed inside his sword, then I shouldn’t be trying to speak to him. He wanted to escape. Wanted to live again. So, whoever possessed the ancient weapon — and knew the incantation to unlock its magic — would pose a threat to me. And to my sister. Oh God. I hadn’t even considered that. Even if I ran and hid myself away, someone could use Alison as a spare body just as easily.
I couldn’t leave the sword here.
It would be safer for all concerned if I took it with me.
Easier said than done, of course. Part of me dared not pick it up. What if you didn’t need the incantation Cassandra spoke of? What if just holding the sword was enough for my father’s consciousness to jump unbidden into my mind? The last time I experienced a magical transfer, there was no way to fight it and I’d ended up in hospital, unconscious for two days. This time, if I wasn’t careful, the Transference might kill me. Death by golfing umbrella. What a way to go.
I opened my bag and pulled out the ‘I love Canada’ sweater, wrapping it around my right hand. Suitably insulated, or so I hoped, I reached out and prodded the brown handle of the sword, jerking my hand away as if I’d just touched a hot coal on a dying fire.
The sword clattered to the floor.
I was still me. There seemed to be no obvious build up of magical energy. No lightning had flashed. More importantly, nothing had burst into flames. I squatted down and tried again, reaching out with my sweater-protected hand to briefly touch the hilt of the sword, before pulling sharply away.
Still nothing happened.
This was good. I grabbed the handle of the sword and held it tightly, confident that no mind-swapping or body-switching was about to take place. Standing up again, I slowly lifted up the sword and slid it carefully into my backpack, closing the zips as far as they would go. Then I picked up the bag of records and headed downstairs, mindful that the levitation spell keeping Ashley and Raza detained would eventually wear off.
Reinforcing that fact was the fading sound of Raza yelling: “When I get down from here, Marigold, you’re dead! Do you hear me?! Dead!!”
I half-walked, half-jogged to Oxford Circus and took the Bakerloo Line direct to Paddington Station. Then I caught the first available train to Bath. It wasn’t the quickest service — stopping at Slough and Didcot Parkway. Nor was it the most comfortable — standing room only until Swindon. And I wasn’t in the right carriage to see the ghost who haunted Chippenham Station. I spent the entire journey hoping nobody had noticed the ruddy great sword sticking out of my bag.
The train pulled into Bath just before midnight and I didn’t hang around. By my reckoning, Raza and Ashley would now be free of my spell and I didn’t know what they’d do next. Raza would want to follow me, especially when he discovered that I’d looted his room. Ashley would probably be more cautious, suggesting they give me some time to process what I’d heard. Maybe they’d go and see Cassandra. Maybe they were already following me. They would suspect I’d gone home, but I couldn’t be sure. If Raza had the know-how to cast a portal, they could be right behind me.
I quickened my step, hurrying along Dorchester Street past the bus station and then crossing over the road to join the cycle path that ran alongside the River Avon. The river’s dark waters swirled, silent and unwelcoming.
What the hell was I doing?
Mum had always told me that once you’d decided on a course of action, you should stick with it. Else you’d never give it your all. But I also remember what dad (as Mr Brooks) once said: that you shouldn’t be afraid to admit that you’re wrong and change direction if needed. To pivot. Just as he’d gone from being a teacher to a business owner. Then again, he was a lying, cheating asshole who cared so little about me that he would have used me as a replacement body in the pursuit of immortality. So, maybe mum’s advice was the better route. In short: I’d made my bed, I had to lie in it.
After walking for five minutes or so, I stopped alongside the river, put the bag of records on the ground and slid the sword out of my bag, careful not to touch it with my bare hands. It was late and this stretch of the path was empty and only dimly lit, big wooden boards hiding a construction site for yet more student apartments. With nobody around to gawk, I held the sword in front of me, feeling the magic pulse within the brown leather hilt.
“Are you in there?” I asked. “Can you hear me?”
I might as well have been talking to a kettle. It didn’t matter. I had things I wanted to say, whether my so-called father could hear them or not.
“I’ll tell you this. If I ever have children, I promise, hand on heart, that I’m not going to be as much of a disappointment to them as you’ve been to me… If I was just a spare body for you, what was all that Mr Brooks stuff about? Why even bother getting to know me? I guess you were just checking up on your investment.”
The magic in the sword thump-thumped like a beating heart.
“Hasn’t worked out for you though, has it? All that magic and power but now you’re stuck in your precious sword and nobody’s going to let you out. I’ll make sure of that… And, I know Raza said we needed this sword to fight Teaks and save Ma’haganonoma. But he and Ashley will have to find another way. Because as long as you’re around, you pose a danger to me and my sister. I can’t live like that. I won’t...”
I wrapped the sword tightly in the ‘I love Canada’ sweater, poking the blade through the knitted back and tying the arms in a chunky double knot around it.
“I might be a nobody. A daydreamer with delusions of grandeur. And maybe I am compared to the great and mighty Robert Strode. But this is my life to live. And now I’ve had my eyes opened to magic and the Underkingdom, to endless possibilities and opportunities beyond anything I could have imagined, nobody is going to take that away from me! Not Raza. Not Ashley. Not you.”
I gripped the hilt of the swaddled sword and held it up. Perhaps dad couldn’t hear me? Perhaps he could and he just didn’t care? All I knew for certain was that I had no future while a part of my father remained to endanger me.
“I will make sure nobody can find you. And you know what? I don’t need to be a powerful sorcerer to do it. So, goodbye dad...”
I launched the sword out over the river, high and long. The weapon spun through the air, end over end, sweater arms flailing, before splashing into the murky water.
“And good riddance.”
36
BLAST THEM WITH IT
I’d made a mistake.
After disposing of the sword, I hurried back to mum’s place. The protective wards wrapping the sandstone house on Brassmill Lane rippled as I walked up the garden path, tugging at me as I quietly let myself in. The hour was late and nobody was up, so I dumped my bag on the floor and placed the bag of records on the coffee table. Then I curled up on the sofa to get some sleep, hoping to put the events of the past few hours out of my mind.
