Maksym Pachesiuk
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Warlock's Last Exam - Chapter 16
🕑 Added 2025-01-14 20:25:02 +0000 UTCThe first thing I did was rush to Finella. Her hair was untouched by the flames – not that you could say the same about her dress, which now had holes revealing glimpses of her undergarments. Her pulse was steady.
“Fin,” I called. “Spark?!” I had to slap her lightly across the face. She groaned, began to stir, and I lost interest.
What interested me more was what was happening around us. In the heat of battle, I’d focused on surviving and had stopped paying attention to the surroundings.
There were far too many witnesses to what had just happened. People stared at us from the windows of nearby buildings and through the glass of cars forced to stop nearby. Luckily, there weren’t many of the latter. Right before my eyes, several cabs on either side of the street turned around on the straightaway and drove off. The bravest driver, behind the wheel of a brand-new Austin, carefully maneuvered around the smoldering wreckage of the Martin and sped away. It wouldn’t take long for news of the incident to spread across the city. We had to get out of here.
The problem was our cabman had gone suspiciously silent. A few seconds ago, he was still shrieking.
I yanked open the cab’s front door and looked inside. The driver had slid to the floor and hidden under the seat. Trying to pull him out only triggered another outburst of screaming.
“Help! They’re killing me!” the fool yelled.
“It’s me, your passenger. Calm down!”
“They’re killing me!”
Unexpectedly, Finella intervened. She opened the door on the other side and threatened the driver with a small flame in her palm.
“Shut up before I burn your tongue off!”
It worked. The cabman fell silent.
“Start the car,” I ordered.
“We’re bolting?” Finella asked.
“We’re bolting,” I confirmed. The shootout had caught us in the middle of the district of indulgences, and the owners of the nearest establishments had probably already called the cops. “We’re bolting, but first... Can you hide us from prying eyes?”
“There’ll be a lot of smoke... Hard to breathe.”
“Do it!”
Finella turned to the wrecked Martin, made a few gestures with her hands, and the flames died down, replaced by billowing smoke.
I quickly grabbed the submachine gun and the full drum magazine from the asphalt. This weapon was worth as much as a brand-new Cooper – a small profit, at least, since we weren’t getting any decent loot out of this mess. And the body… no body, no case, as they say. I wasn’t about to deal with the cops; that’s always a long and unpleasant affair.
The smoke fully concealed us from view, and I grabbed the body by its legs.
“Fin, open the door.”
“Why do you need that filth?”
“Help me out! Hold his head so it doesn’t come off.”
Together, we stuffed him under the rear seat and sat down on top of it just as I heard the wail of police sirens.
“Go, go! Rapsy, Longhead Road, seventeen!” I barked, giving the only address in this cursed city that I associated with safety.
The cabman took off, speeding past the smoking Martin, veering into the oncoming lane, and nearly colliding with a car that had dared to peek into the smoke screen. He swerved back into the proper lane just in time.
Emerging from the smoke, we came face-to-face with the cops. Finella’s hand clenched my shoulder painfully, but in the remains of the smoke, our battered hood and bullet-riddled windshield weren’t as noticeable. The cops stopped, but we, on the contrary, shot forward at full speed.
We even made it to Harry’s house without any trouble.
I didn’t touch the gate – I had no idea what kind of contraptions Harry might have set up. Possibly the same kind of alarm spell as on the wicket gate, but even so, it could be the path to the first trap seal.
I asked Finella to wait, though in truth, I left her to keep an eye on the driver. As for him, I instructed him not to turn off the engine.
I burst into the mansion like a whirlwind.
"Har-ry-y!" I shouted.
"Stop yelling," the wizard replied, sitting in an armchair I hadn’t noticed in the foyer before. Nearby were a couch, a basin of water, a table laden with various potions, and a collection of energy stones. "Who’s injured? What are the wounds?" Smith inquired matter-of-factly.
"Uh... the driver. We need to get the car inside."
"Open the gates, bring it into the stables, but make it quick. The seals will only be deactivated for five minutes."
Five minutes later, the battered Cooper was parked among the long-empty stalls. The Sparrow brothers hovered behind Harry with the basin and potions while the wizard grumbled in irritation.
"The man only has a few scratches! Why’d you drag him here? I’ve got enough of these two to deal with," he said, pointing at the boys.
"You asked who was injured, and he was screaming his head off."
"Oh, he was screaming. And the corpse under the back seat – was it screaming too? Oh, hello, Spark. How’s James?"
"Good evening, Sir Harry," Finella replied primly, trying to cover the charred holes in her dress. "James is doing quite well. You’ve helped him a lot."
I didn’t understand what they were talking about and got a bit distracted.
"It’s a vampire," I said, pointing at the body and handing Finella my jacket. "Do you know him?"
No one answered. Harry smiled into his beard, then ordered the cabman, "Get that garbage out of the car and leave."
"Yes, sir!" the man exclaimed in relief and eagerly pulled the body out by its legs. In his excitement, he yanked so hard that the head – already hanging on by little more than a flap of skin and sheer luck – caught on the edge of the front seat and tore off.
When the driver saw this, he turned green, dropped the body, and ran to vomit into the nearest stall.
Harry, unfazed, grabbed the head by its disheveled hair, turned it to face him, and peered into its mouth.
"Well, lucky you. A young one," Harry remarked, tossing the head back onto the body and wiping his hands.
Suddenly, the car let out two loud sputters and went silent. The cabman stopped vomiting and began wailing.
"No, no, no, no! God, no!" He rushed to the car and lifted the bullet-riddled hood. "I’m dead!"
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"The engine seized from overheating."
"Why? It was working fine."
"The radiator’s shot full of holes – like a sieve. The water must’ve leaked out on the way here. My boss is going to kill me. The glass and a new body panels, I could manage, but the engine costs as much as my yearly income!"
"What’re you talking about?" Knuckles interjected. "You guys make a tenner just in tips every week!"
"A tenner?!" the driver exclaimed indignantly. "You think everyone tips? These days, only cheapskates take cabs!" He glanced at me warily, then continued in a more pitiful tone, "And on top of that, the landlord squeezes me for rent, I have to eat, dress decently... I’m on my own here! My whole family’s back in the village."
"Knuckles," I asked, "do you know how much a car like this costs?"
"A new one? A hundred and fifty, easy. But a wreck like this sewenty, tops."
"At least a hundred!" the driver butted in, quickly silencing himself.
"Harry, can you get him out another way? Over the fence, maybe. The front entrance isn’t an option."
"Well, theoretically, yes. But he’d need to be guided between the seals, and I can’t stray that far."
"I can do it!" Cap volunteered. "I’ll guide him between the seals. I just need the ointment – I can’t see well without it."
"Right..." I remembered.
"So, you can see without it?" Harry cut in, pointing at Cap. "Look over here." He held out an empty palm. "What do you see?"
"An upside-down pyramid," Cap said.
"That’s a cone," Harry corrected absentmindedly. "Come here."
The wizard grabbed the boy by the shoulders and stared intently at his forehead.
"How did I not notice this before!"
"Care to share with the class?" I asked, noting how suddenly Harry’s mood had improved.
"The ointment will definitely work better for him. Apply it."
I opened my ring, smeared some of the ointment on the boy’s forehead, and then turned to the cab driver.
"Call your boss and tell him I’ll stop by tomorrow to sort everything out. And you – head to the village. First train out." I pulled some cash from my pocket, counted out a fifty, and stuffed it into the stunned cabman’s hands. "You don’t want this guy’s friends…" I pointed at the corpse and then at the head, which had rolled a bit away, "asking questions, do you?"
The driver turned green again and shook his head vigorously.
"Then I suggest you leave the city as quickly as possible. If anyone asks, you tell them you hid and saw nothing. Then there was smoke, and we escaped. You have no idea where the attacker went. Got it?"
The cabman nodded so enthusiastically it looked like his head might come off. Harry gave Cap directions on where to lead the driver, then dismissed them both.
"Let me guess," Harry said, nudging the vampire’s body with his foot. "This scumbag pretended to be dead and then bolted?"
"You guessed right."
"Not bad. Have you searched him yet?"
I shook my head and started rummaging through the vampire’s pockets while Harry instructed Knuckles to dig a hole in the backyard.
The new batch of loot yielded a fat wallet containing two fifties, a tenner and a handful of change, along with an old photograph showing our corpse, much younger, standing arm-in-arm with the man Ellie had killed. They looked alike – clearly not just nest brothers, but blood brothers before their transformation.
There was also a pack of cigarettes, a gilded gasoline lighter, an expensive wristwatch, a silver fountain pen, a couple of plain rings, including a signet ring bearing the nest’s crest, a protective magma amulet with a volcanic glass stone on a steel chain, and a worn passport in a brand-new leather cover. The name on the passport read "Connor Lindemann," with a turning year of 1917.
"Not so young after all," I said, handing the passport to Harry. "He’s been a vampire longer than I’ve been alive."
"Well, he’s not exactly old either," Harry countered. "You done?"
"Even checked the lining," I confirmed.
"Then let’s go."
Harry grabbed the head and strode forward. Finella followed, and I dragged the body behind them.
By the time we came, Knuckles had already dug a small patch of earth with a shovel and piled a neat mound of carefully cut turf nearby.
Harry tossed the vampire’s head into the hole and gestured for me to do the same with the body.
The pit wasn’t big enough to fit the whole body – arms and legs stuck out awkwardly. Harry used telekinesis to fold them in, the bones cracking as joints broke and twisted unnaturally. I threw the rest of his belongings into the pit on top of the body.
"I understand you’re a wealthy young man," Harry remarked, "but this seems rather wasteful."
"Those items could lead the bloodsuckers back to me."
"I’ll enchant them," Harry assured me. "I’ve got so much metal energy spilling over, I don’t know what to do with it," he added, waving toward the house.
I reluctantly gathered the valuables, keeping only the cigarettes, the documents, and the empty wallet with the photograph.
Using telekinesis, Harry carved a circle around the pit, waved his hand, and, just like my grandfather used to do, pulled a thick, heavy book out of a dimensional pocket. It opened on its own and hung in the air. Harry traced his finger over it, and the pages began to flip with a soft rustle.
"Not this one…" Harry muttered, staring into the seemingly blank book. He waved his finger again, flipping through another dozen pages. "Still unfit."
At first glance, the book appeared half-empty, but I had the idea to apply some ointment to my third eye. Finella jabbed me in the side, demanding a portion for herself.
Once the ointment took effect, Harry’s figure, along with the book, became wreathed in a dark-blue ether mist. On the open pages, gray geometric patterns glowed faintly, dotted with blotches that I guessed were earth runes.
Responding to the wizard’s will, one of the patterns, charged with elemental energy, tore free from the page, fell onto the corpse, and stretched itself across the drawn circle on the ground. The blotches expanded, transforming into fully formed runes, while faint shadows of the pattern remained on the book’s pages, awaiting a fresh charge of elemental energy.
A few more pages flipped backward, and this time Harry extracted a fiery pattern from the book, overlaying it atop the earth rune circle.
"Knuckles, bring a bucket. Spark, a little fire," he said.
Finella tossed a small flame onto the corpse, which ignited as if it were a pile of gasoline-soaked straw.
I jumped back in surprise, but the fire spiraled upward in a twisting column, shooting into the sky and leaving behind nothing but a handful of ash and a perfectly circular scorch mark. Harry waited until the elder Sparrow brought the bucket, then used telekinesis to sweep the ashes into it.
"Good for potions," he remarked.
He then tossed another earth rune into the pit, filled it with dirt, packed it down, laid the turf over it, and sealed the area with a dark-green blood ward.
We hadn’t even stepped away yet when the grass at our feet began to grow lush and wild.
"Let’s call it even for the servants I owe you," Harry said with a smile in his beard. The book vanished with a flick of his hand, and he picked up the bucket of ash.
"That’s quite an expensive payment," I remarked.
"Ah, forget it. I’ve always hated bloodsuckers. But you should think about it – isn’t it time to call your uncle?"
"Let me get through the night first. My brain’s locked up."
"And you, young lady? James won’t do anything foolish, will he?"
"He thinks I stayed at Ellie Sheridan’s, but I’d rather get home before dawn looking like this."
"No problem. I’ll fetch a cab," I offered.
"No need, I’ll hop the fence."
"We’ll worry," I said.
"Sir Harry, you’re keeping an eye on what’s happening near the gates, aren’t you?"
Harry nodded.
"You’ll recognize me if I come to the wicket gate?"
"Of course."
"Then here’s the plan. I’ll grab a cab, step out for a moment in front of the gates..."
"And immediately attract attention," I interrupted, disappointed.
"Then what if I fireball the fence from the other side?"
"I’ll feel that too, just don’t overdo it, or you’ll burn out the sensory line."
Spark created a small flame in her hand. Harry examined it and gave his approval.
As soon as Cap returned, he was tasked with escorting Finella, while I went off to bed. Or at least tried to. All I could see were nightmares about bloodsuckers. After a night like that, I woke up angry and exhausted, and not by choice.
"Wake up, Lord!"
I blinked groggily, anxiety clawing at me. I saw Knuckles before I even reached for the pistol under my pillow.
"What do you want?"
"The police are here."
I came downstairs five minutes later, not in the best mood and wearing less-than-fresh clothes. I had to leave the dagger behind, but I slung the straps of my shoulder holster over my vest.
Harry’s colorful cursing improved my mood a bit. It was immediately clear that Sir Harry was a man of rich life experience. The way he managed to tie Fairburn’s dear mother to devils and dockworkers in the same sentence with a sexual context – it was nothing short of poetic. And he was swearing at Sunset, who stood flanked by two constables.
"Don’t give me that bullshit, John. That bastard tried to kill me! Not just scare off a few servants – kill me! And the cops are doing nothing about it!"
"Why don’t you go… to hell, Harry?" Sunset retorted. "What, you thought you’d get to bite off the juiciest piece of the pie, and no one would say a word? You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started this mess, you senile old fool. And so did August. Who’s going to prove it was him who handed the sphere to the Kinkaid? Want justice? Want to blow this open? Fine, let’s do it. Tomorrow, every paper in the city will print their version of what’s happening. Every single one. But not one – not one – will badmouth the Fairburns. What they’ll do is write about crazy old Sledgehammer Harry and the dangerous, psycho lordling from some backwater dump."
"I’m from Avoc, sir," I cut in coldly. The moment I heard myself mentioned, the insults became much harder to ignore. "That’s the capital of the county, in case you didn’t know."
But Harry had already wound Sunset up so much that the man ignored my tone entirely.
"Even if you were from Exeter itself!" Sunset barked, naming the capital of Duthigh. "You’re an outsider here, boy. And half the city eats out of Fairburn’s hand."
"I heard he’s having some issues with His Worship?"
"Issues, sure. But de Camp isn’t an idiot. He needs ironclad proof to start a war, not the word of some boy and a fanatic vicar. What actually happened, huh? Nothing! No one got hurt! Your servants, Harry, claim you’ve stopped paying them. Same with the grocer you had a contract with for food deliveries. And I don’t blame them. You’ve holed up in your fortress, while these people have to live their lives out in the open. They have families to feed, and it’s hard to do that with broken hands, in case you didn’t know!"
Then he turned to me, jabbing a finger in my direction.
"And you, boy! I knew you’d be trouble."
"Lord Loxlin, sir," I corrected him.
"Or the Earl of Bremor himself, for all I care!" the inspector shouted. "What the hell did you do to piss off the bloodsuckers?"
"I have no idea. My guess is August Fairburn had something to do with it. He and I had a falling out at The Golden Tear. He asked why I hadn’t delivered Harry’s ‘gift,’ and I told him Harry had taken it at the doorstep and promised to return the favor. After that, Fairburn had a chat with the bloodsucker, pointing in my direction – he might’ve ordered the hit. The vampire tried to start a fight in the club, but the bouncers stopped him."
"August? Seriously? You’re just going to pin everything on him now?"
"Inspector, I’m not here to argue with you. If you doubt my word, I suggest you visit the Golden Tear and ask the staff. Isn’t that what you’re paid to do – investigate this city?"
"You, boy, don’t tell me how to do my job. I earned my paycheck – I didn’t inherit it."
That stung. Probably because it was true.
"Oh yes, I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing the fine work of this city’s police! Robberies, assaults, murders, and people you can’t ‘touch’ without proof."
Sunset flushed red, taking a step toward me. But Harry stopped him, placing a hand on his chest.
"You’re in my house, John. Don’t forget that."
"Don’t interfere with the police, Harry. I’m arresting this little bastard!"
"Oh," I said with a bright smile. "So it turns out you can arrest people without proof – or even a reason?"
"For public disorder and property damage in the city! You fled the crime scene. So I’ll hold you until…"
"I wouldn’t advise that. As a friend, I wouldn’t advise it. Believe me, you don’t want a mob of Kinkaids in your city."
Harry suddenly let go of Sunset and glanced toward the door, his expression turning wary.
"What?" the inspector asked.
"Bloodsuckers at the gate," Harry replied.
"Goddammit, Harry! This is exactly what I was trying to avoid!"
