Tombstone wizard, p.1
Tombstone Wizard, page 1
Tombstone Wizard
KAT SIMONS
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Thank You
Books By Kat Simons
About the Author
A cold, foggy night in a graveyard.
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A mythical monster on the prowl. And only the magic he brought with him to help.
Charles never thought he’d have to challenge his mentor and teacher, a wizard whose powers far exceeded his own. But when his teacher turns to the unthinkable, and bodies start piling up, Charles knows his time has run out.
To end the violence, Charles must best his teacher in a battle of magic, trapped inside a mystical domain. The only way out… Victory.
Or death.
TOMBSTONE WIZARD
Copyright © 2021 by Katrina Tipton
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Cover design: © 2022 T&D Publishing
Cover Art: © obsidianfantasy © Dmytro Konstantynov | Dreamstime.com
Published by: T&D Publishing
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First Published in: Haunts and Howls and Guardian Spells, 2021
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T&D Publishing: https://tanddpublishing.com/
Kat Simons Website: https://www.katsimons.com
Kat Simons Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/dxDRuH
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All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
To those who fight against the odds.
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And to my family. You’re why I fight.
Chapter
One
Charles settled into his stance at the head of the tombstone, staring out over the graveyard. Rows of elaborate gray and red marble headstones rose in haphazard patters over the hill, interspersed between the maple trees, the grass around them neatly cut. Through the trees, some of the larger family tombs popped over the hill, but in this section of the cemetery, mostly headstones cut into standard arch shapes, only occasionally something more elaborate.
Faintly, the sounds of New York traffic in the distance, but otherwise, the place was silent. The damp air hinted at the rain only a few hours earlier that left muddy puddles along the paved road winding through the graveyard hills. A soft breeze fluttered through the maple leaves, creating a kind of shooshing music.
The cemetery was closed this time of night, the gate locked against visitors until early morning when the caretakers came back and the place opened for business. So he had the quiet darkness to himself.
He only needed an hour. Just an hour to get this done. And then he was sure everything would be okay.
Swallowing hard, he glanced back at the tombstone where he’d set up his gear. The stone was a dark black marble, standing out amongst the gray and red surrounding it, and cut into a miniature obelisk. The base was thick, two steps leading up to the longer obelisk structure. Though only his height, the headstone was nonetheless impressive for standing above the others just next to it. The marble on the obelisk was so highly polished it reflected the moonlight, almost obscuring the name etched into the stone.
He didn’t have to see the name to know who’s grave this was. He’d been here, during the day, studying the setup, the layout of the cemetery so he could maneuver in the dark without getting lost or tripping and cracking his skull on one of the headstones.
This was the night, and he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Not now. Not with the dead bodies piling up.
He had to stop this tonight.
Early in his life, Charlie had thought being a wizard was a thrill, a power that gave him an advantage over the other boys at school, gave him a leg up in the world. That was before he’d met Vincent, before he’d learned what responsibility meant and what real power could actually do. Years ago now, that lesson learned. So long he could barely remember the kid he’d been.
Unfortunately, there were some things he couldn’t afford to forget.
He settled onto the damp grass in front of the obelisk to set out his gear. The potions he’d been working on for the last two weeks, all arrayed in neat little bottles in a circle in front of him. The slim blade, just to his right. The ax to his left. Dew seeped through the knees of his jeans, and he shivered, despite his black wool coat. He settled his wool hat down farther over his ears to keep the chill out. While the October night air was cold, the daytime had been warm enough to heat the earth. Already a low ground cover of fog crept through the headstones. He’d hoped that would hold off until much later in the night, after he’d completed his task.
But of course, he wasn’t that lucky.
Still, he could manage around the fog. He’d practiced. He knew which bottle held which potion by feel, each little glass vial shaped a little differently with a different type of stopper to keep the potions in. The ax and knife were close enough at hand, he didn’t think he’d lose them in the ground fog, but he had alternatives if he did. His ordinary wizard powers, the energy bolts and fire bolts he could summon and use as weapons, wouldn’t work against Vincent. Not now. That’s why he needed the knife and the ax. But he had enough magic in his bones still, he could use his best weapons if needs be.
Another cold breeze ruffled through the maple leaves overhead, making the moonlight pouring through the branches shiver, casting darkening shadows over the obelisk.
Not much longer now.
A night bird hooted. From the corner of his eye, he saw a dark shadow scramble over the grass toward a tree. His heartbeat started to pound harder so he focused on his breathing, on settling his mind. He and Vincent had avoided this confrontation for a long time. Their time had run out.
The air stilled, Even the nightbirds grew quiet. An unnatural silence dropped over the graveyard. Even the distant traffic sounds vanished. The silence was so complete it was like a sound all its own, blocking out everything, making Charles’s ears ring. He swallowed back the fear rising in his throat.
And picked up the knife.
Shadows around the black marble obelisk shifted, despite the lack of air movement. For a long moment, just the shimmering shadow, nothing more. Then from behind the obelisk, a large shape stepped into view.
Vaguely man-shaped, but with a cowl and cloak covering shoulders and head. Taller than Charles by a foot. The area under the cowl too shadowed to show features. Sleeves long enough to cover hands completely. Cloak falling to the wet grass, fully covering legs and feet.
Charles rose slowly, taking one potion bottle and the knife with him as he did.
“You waited a long time,” a deep, slightly accented voice from under the cowl. “Is this what you expected?”
“I haven’t expected anything at all,” Charles said. “Except you.”
A chuckle, the sound grating and harsh. “You could have just…stayed away.”
“Too many dead.” Charles gut clenched at those words. He’d stayed away too long as it was. He should have come sooner. Should have stopped this weeks ago. Preparation had taken him time, and he couldn’t have attempted this without that time, but he should have started sooner, the minute the first body appeared.
He’d hoped this wasn’t Vincent’s work. He’d tried to talk himself out of the truth so he wouldn’t have to do this.
“You can’t kill a dead man,” the being under the cloak said.
“There are other options,” Charles said. “Just like death isn’t the end. At least not for some.”
Another chuckle. “You wouldn’t choose this? Immortality. All the power?”
“You’re not immortal,” Charles said. “Not really. You’re dead. You just need to stop coming back.”
“When you no longer worry about death,” the creature said, “you are immortal.”
“You could have chosen other options.” Charles gestured at the graveyard with the hand holding the knife. “This was a bad one.”
The creature pushed the cowl back, revealing himself for the first time. And it took a great deal of willpower, and years of learning and control, for Charles not to react.
There were many things Vincent could have done to achieve his idea of “immortality.” He could have become a vampire, allowed himself to be changed, and given himself centuries of life. Life spent mostly in darkness. Life without his sorcerers’ skills. That magic didn’t often make the jump to vampire, replaced by other skills and strengths. And there was always the possibility that he wouldn’t have survived the conversion. Permanent death wasn’t uncommon.
Still, it was an option that didn’t require others to die. Vampires could live long lives off small amounts of blood. They didn’t have to kill to survive. It had been an option for Vincent.
There were other ways as well. Though none of the ancient alchemists had discovered the elixir of immortality—and Charles, for his part, was convinced it didn’t exist—there were potion
Vincent had chosen one of the most violent options. He didn’t have to. That’s the part that Charles couldn’t forget. Vincent didn’t have to choose this way. He wanted this. He had enjoyed violence, death, bloodshed, even before making his transformation. Of course he’d choose the worst possible option for immortality as well.
Blending his soul with an ancient monster, becoming the physical embodiment of that monster…
The first time Vincent had mentioned the possibility, Charles should have known this was where they’d end up.
He should have killed Vincent then.
But he wasn’t the murderer between them and never had been. Still, he was here, forced to this point, knowing he was the only one who could stop his former mentor.
And it all sucked. A lot.
Staring up at what had become of his mentor left him sick to his stomach. Blending his essence with the body of the minotaur had left him looking nothing like the Vincent Charles had known. His bull’s head, complete with snout and curved horns from his skull, was thick and wider than Vincent’s human face had been. There was still a hint of the human Vincent in the shape of the eyes—which glowed red now instead of being simple brown—but everything else was the beast.
The thick, long snout brought his mouth forward, now wide and full of the sharp teeth a real bull wouldn’t have. Rough black hair covered his head around the horns, which were long and curved out to the side. His torso was now thickly muscled in a way Vincent had never been, and the same rough black hair on his head grew down his back and across his shoulders. His hands, though still human shaped, were huge now and the very tips of his nails were sharpened to a point. His hooved feet pawed the ground.
While Charles knew this was his former mentor, heard it in the voice, looking at the creature he’d become made it difficult to reconcile the two beings. If the monster hadn’t just been talking to him, he wouldn’t have been certain this was Vincent.
“You’re afraid?” Vincent said. “Disgusted?”
“Sad,” Charles said. “I won’t ever understand why you did this to yourself.”
“Which is why you were left behind when I achieved this.”
“You’ve achieved the ability to kill, taken on a monster and become that monster. I don’t see that as an advancement.”
“Your vision was always…more narrow and confined than mine.”
Given what Charles could do under normal circumstances, he considered that a good thing. Too many beings of power, too many humans born with one kind of magic or another, did horrible things with that power. Charles considered it a responsibility to not be one of those people.
“What do you intend to do?” Vincent asked, glancing down at the potions. “You can’t stop me. I know what you know. I know your power. None of it is enough to prevent me from completing this transformation.”
Charles kept his response to those words to himself, holding Vincent’s gaze without reacting, but hearing that the transformation wasn’t complete, that there was still time to stop this… Charles hadn’t expected that, and the shock of it left him unbalanced. Not a great place to be when he had a job in front of him. Being uncertain in this fight could get him killed.
Still, knowing Vincent wasn’t completely lost, hadn’t fully integrated the monster yet…
“You want to save me now?” Vincent asked, as if reading his thoughts. His chuckle was deep and echoing and sounded nothing like the man’s had sounded when he’d been human. “I don’t want to be saved. I’ve made this deal with the full understanding of what it means. I embrace this. What makes you think I’d allow you to ruin everything I’ve accomplished?”
The fact that Vincent had known where his thoughts went probably wasn’t good. Vincent had just made Charles’s job here easier, though. If he refused to be saved, to have the transformation stopped, there really wasn’t anything left to save.
“I’m sorry you felt this was the step you had to take,” Charles said as he raised the potion he held in one hand. “I’m sorry this obsession has taken you. But I can’t allow you to kill anymore.”
“Your potions can’t kill me,” Vincent said as steam blew out of his raised nostrils, filling the cold air.
Fog now covered the grass, obscuring some of Charles’s remaining bottles and the ax he’d left there. The white-gray layer of mist crept up the edges of the black obelisk, covering the base, hiding some of the smaller tombstones around them.
Now or never, Charles thought. And he tossed the potion bottle…
Past the minotaur so it smashed into the black marble obelisk.
Chapter
Two
Vincent laughed, the sound loud in the dead silent cemetery, echoing off the surrounding maple trees and gravestones, and down through the fog-covered hill. “You missed, boy. A useless potion, now wasted in a bad throw.”
The sound of Vincent’s deep, beastly chuckle and taunting voice made Charles’s teeth clench. But he kept his own attention on the effects of his potion, ignoring the monster that was his former mentor as best he could.
A heartbeat of worry, of fear, clenched Charles’s chest as he waited. He knew this would take time, but still, the waiting let in uncertainty, let in the waffling terror that he’d failed.
Then the obelisk seemed to pulse, the black marble stretching and snapping back to its original shape. And then, with a suddenness that had Charles nearly stepping backward, the obelisk grew, lengthened, shot up to tower over them both, rising through the maple leaves fast enough to leave the scent of maple sap in its wake.
Vincent snarled and looked up at the growing stone. “What have you done?”
Charles didn’t answer. He picked up the next potion bottle and tossed it at the now huge obelisk.
This time Vincent stretched out a monstrously large hand and tried to grab the bottle before it hit marble. But Charles feinted forward with his knife, slicing at Vincent and forcing him back a step, even though they both knew in this realm that knife would do little against a minotaur.
The bottle connected with the obelisk in a shriek of shattered glass and spraying liquid. This potion was clear colored, so it looked merely like water had splashed against the stone.
A deceptive visual.
“What have you done?” the monster roared.
A sound so loud it hurt Charles’s ears. He ignored the pain and tossed the final potion needed for this part of the incantation. It shattered against the obelisk, releasing a hiss of steam and the scent of dust and olives as it mixed with the other potion. Then he poured some of his own magic into a chant that would release the spell.
“No!”
Vincent’s scream came too late. Around them, the ground heaved, the earth trembled, and stones rose high above them, encircling them, growing from the mist until they blocked out the night sky.
Once the circling stones were taller than the obelisk, more stone formed a roof overhead, slapping down on the walls with a thunderous thud. Charles did wince at the sound, now louder and echoing as they were cut off from the natural world, encased, entombed…
“What have you done?” Vincent screamed again.
“Returned the monster to where it belongs,” Charles said.
As the labyrinth grew around them.
The stones moved and shifted, even as the ceiling sealed overhead, plunging them into darkness. Charles called a small ball of blue energy onto his palm. Even at its strongest, the wizard bolt wouldn’t be able to damage the immortal minotaur, but it lit the overwhelming darkness just fine.
