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“You’re kidding, right?”
“Are we going to just stand here arguing until the cops show up?”
“This is dumb. It will never work,” I mumbled as I did as told, placing my feet atop his big, booted ones. I tucked my cheek to his chest as my arms went around his solid middle. Now probably wasn’t the time to notice how nice he felt and how good he smelled.
“Ready? Just remember to hold on and stay quiet. I’ll get us out of here.”
I had my doubts, but I gripped him tight as he took an awkward stride. Then another. I felt like a little kid at my aunt’s wedding again. I didn’t know how to dance so my dad had me stand on his feet and held my hands while we swayed.
As we neared the cops, their voices getting louder, I shut my eyes as if it would make a difference.
“…lost touch with the employees sent to check on the stalled train. One person emerged from the tunnel, screaming about smoke everywhere and rats killing people.” A woman’s voice gave the quick briefing.
“I hate rats,” exclaimed a male voice.
“No going into the tunnels until those portable lights arrive. I don’t want anyone accidentally shooting someone.”
I knew that voice. Detective Williams. I stiffened, and to my surprise, Cain put a hand on my back as if to reassure. Given the closeness of the speakers, I expected at any moment to get called out.
To my surprise and relief, we kept moving without issue. The stairs Cain climbed were the most awkward part. When I felt the air indicating we were outside, I moved to disembark, but he whispered, “Not yet. Hold on a little bit longer. There are a lot of people looking.”
I could hear them now that he mentioned it, snippets of conversation from folks wondering what had happened. Most assumed a suicide on the tracks. As the din faded, I waited for Cain to say we were clear.
The rank stench of an alley wrinkled my nose. Surely we were clear now?
“Just a few more seconds,” he murmured.
A strange hum filled the air, and static snapped at strands of my hair. The air got suddenly cold. So very, very cold. And then warm again. The rancid smell disappeared, replaced by that of a pine as if I’d entered a forest.
Despite what he kept saying, I pushed off from him and stumbled to the ground.
Paving stones, to be specific, and not asphalt. I wasn’t in an alley. Or the city, for that matter. I had no idea where the fuck I was because the forest I gazed upon didn’t exist anywhere within walking distance of Toronto.
“Where are we?” I asked, craning upwards to see the trees extended far, far into the sky.
“Welcome to the forumdomus, the guild house for reapers and witches.”
“Wait, what?” I pivoted to ask Cain to clarify, only to end up gaping. My jaw hit the ground hard as I spotted the biggest castle in the distance.
No denying, I wasn’t in Toronto anymore.
9
The realization I’d gone from downtown Toronto to some forest with a castle stunned. “Oh, my fucking god, you teleported us!” The only possibility because there certainly hadn’t been a tornado carrying us away.
“In a sense.” Cain held up a silver-toned brooch, the metal wound in an intricate pattern. “This valley is protected from teleportation, with the dais being the only exception. This opens a doorway to this spot.” He scuffed at the paving stones underfoot, which made up a platform.
“Why didn’t we teleport from the subway?”
“Something blocked the amulet’s power.”
Glancing at the round dais we’d landed on and then the jewelry, I noticed something. “They’re the same pattern.”
“Which is part of how they’re linked. There’s some intense magic locked into both the landing pad and the focus object.”
“I thought you said the witches only did basic stuff like scrying and healing.” I couldn’t help but sound accusatory.
“Most witches. In the past, we’ve had some who are quite powerful and could achieve bigger feats, like this portal system. This particular one has been in place for centuries.”
