The onyx stone seemed to be somehow connected to the mystic Wall. The council knew its secret, but didn't share it with anyone. Normally Kevin would be vibrating with curiosity when confronted with the artifact. But not today. He only felt grief, combined with the pain of losing a friend.
Someone gasped.
Max stormed in. He greeted Joan with a "Hi" and threw sneakers at Kevin’s feet. "Did you forget? It might be cold down here. Are you okay?" He had managed to tame his hair a bit. Right then, Kevin would have loved to hug him close. But not here. Not now.
So he just replied "I’m okay."
Someone sobbed. Soon after, Clara entered the crypt. She wiped away the tears and lifted her chin. Her long, silky-black hair, smooth features, and deep brown skin made her look like some African princess. They hugged.
"So your team is almost complete," Joan realized. "Chris is in an area without a portal and Jen won’t be here in time either. I sent a portalkeeper to London; he’ll check on her. The protectors will also want to question her."
"What about Chloe?" Kevin asked.
"She’s still on her mission. She’ll be back in a few days."
He nodded gratefully. Jen, Mark, Clara, Chloe, his twin brother Chris, and he: that was their team. They had their adventures together, sat chatting until late at night, and were bound to one another by magic. Mark’s death had left them all with a void. Silently, he prayed that nothing would happen to Jen and instinctively reached for his chest where his contact stone was hanging.
"I already tried," Clara said. "No contact. Wherever she is, black magic has enveloped her like some force field. There’s no getting through."
Before he could reply, the onyx stone began to change: the dark surface became milky white, forming striations. Contours emerged, a shadowy silhouette.
Joan frowned. "Something’s wrong."
Kevin had only been here once before when the Onyx cube had sought out an heir. Back then, a series of clear images had manifested, showing a face, a place, exact information.
They waited.
After what felt like an eternity, a black spot in the shape of a country emerged. "England," Clara saw. "How likely is it that an heir is chosen from the same country the last wizard died?"
"One in four hundred thousand," Joan replied. "And it’s not just the same country. It’s London, the same city." The councilor was usually seen with a smile on her face, but now she seemed worried.
She is afraid, Kevin understood. "What’s wrong?"
The striations continued to swirl.
Max, who had been silent so far, said, "London’s a big place. Can’t it be a little more specific?"
Joan raised her hand, silencing him. In a firm voice she spoke words of ancient magic and wove a spell. At the same time, her fingers left a trace of fire in the air. A billow arose over the surface of the onyx stone, at its center, a quickly growing dot appeared. It was like looking at a television screen that was constantly expanding.
There was a man in his mid-twenties. He had a three-day stubble, a striking face, short dark hair. He was attractive and, as Kevin noticed, knew it. Only brand name clothes, open shirt, expensive watch. He recognized the type immediately, had fallen for them once too often before Max. The unknown man and a friend were headed for a club in London’s Soho district. The knowledge of the local coordinates suddenly came to Kevin.
Joan staggered and fell to her knees. The picture shrank.
"There, at the edge." Clara pointed to the outer edge of the onyx stone.
Black striations formed. Not on the stone, no. They were a part of the scene.
"Dark magic manifests itself in this place," said Joan. The councilor seemed spent. "Nothing’s as it should be." Her hand rested on the stone wall.
"I’ll send a team right away." Kevin reached for his contact stone. "If they take the portal to the city center…"
"No," Joan said with a clear, commanding voice. "Jen’s closer. She’ll find him and take him to the Castillo. No one else."
Max gasped. "But… she just lost her partner."
"Then it will be an honor for her to guide his heir to safety."
Kevin stared at the councilor in amazement. What was wrong with her?
Curiosity had driven the grief away, at least in part. As soon as Jen got back, he’d know everything. Until then, he had to be patient.
"Let's go upstairs." Clara said.
Kevin nodded. With Clara on one side and Max on the other, he left the crypt.
Joan remained behind. Lost in thought, the councilor looked at the onyx cube.
4. London Calling
His hands were tingling, the smell of deodorant and perfume was in the air. Sweaty bodies moved to the rhythm of the music on the dance floor, making out. Smiling, he reached for the vodka Red Bull.
"Alexander Kent," Zac said. "If your mother could see that dirty grin on that pretty face of yours, she’d scrub you clean from top to bottom."
He laughed. "It’s a good thing she’s not here then."
They raised their glasses in a toast.
Alex had decided that he had only imagined the green light. After he woke up, his skin had suddenly grown hot, then ice cold. He could have sworn his hand was on fire, like, really on fire. But there was no pain. He dragged himself back home, tired and exhausted. His mum hadn’t asked any questions. Why would she? She knew these kinds of moments too well, both from him and from Alfie. His sixteen-year-old brother was out partying in the swamp called Angell Town. The thought made him sick. He banished it with a shake of his head.
Tonight he just wanted to forget everything. Dance, make out, have wild sex until morning. The world outside the club didn’t exist.
"Well, found somebody yet?" Zac asked. His friend was the one who had asked him out. He was one of the few to make it out of Brixton. This was supposed to be a celebration in honor of Alex’s new job. Now, it would serve as comfort instead.
Alex nodded towards the narrow bar which ran along the wall to the side of the dance floor. "The blonde over there. Her friends already got their guys, but she’s still all alone."
"Good luck, mate. I’m going to chat up the besties over there." Zac was already gone, carrying two drinks to the siblings.
Alex swore silently: he hadn’t even noticed them. On the other hand, one was enough for tonight. He ordered a cocktail that he thought matched the blonde and charged it to Zac’s tab. He'd get away with it today. He carefully balanced the bulbous glass with a strawberry on its rim as he made his way over to the girl.
He had almost reached her when another guy stepped next to her. They raised their glasses in a toast.
Great, he thought.
He kept trying, but the next hour became a debacle. Finally, he gave up. A look at Zac had envy boiling up. His friend just left the club, with the two girls, one on each arm. Alex would have to listen to all the details tomorrow. He disappeared to the toilets and looked at himself in the mirror.
The shirt fit perfectly, but allowed for a small peek of his muscular chest. The three-day beard looked masculine, his hair was cleanly styled. The jeans symbolized half a month’s salary and had been artfully torn. Of course, they were knock-offs. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to afford them. Still, they looked the real deal. Bloody hell, he’d pick himself up if he could.