As Quinn moved into the most densely wooded section behind the compound, a sense of dread swept over him and he froze. A quick look at Ingrid and Zeren showed that they had seen and felt nothing. Neither had Adam, a few feet behind him. Cautiously, Quinn gestured Adam forward to the mark where the feeling had hit him. Adam raised a brow but complied. He shivered, his eyes going wide, when he crossed that invisible line as well. The effect seemed less potent on Adam, but it existed, providing Quinn with evidence that it wasn’t just in his mind.
Something weird was wrong here. It wasn’t strictly magical, or at least not in the way of a spell and it looked natural enough that Ingrid had overlooked it. The ghosts had noticed Quinn’s halt and returned, studying him. He gestured to the area and made gestures for aura and then held himself tight, shivering and showing the sense of fear and despair still tickling at the back of his mind. Ingrid tilted her head at it, empty eyes studying the air around them through her runed bandages, pale curls bouncing artfully. Then she pouted.
“It’s like roots in the magic,” she said, stomping her feet. “It’s not anything active. It’s just there.”
Roots? Magical roots?
“Tree roots?” Quinn whispered, careful to pitch his voice so it barely carried to the ghost right in front of him. “With death magic?”
Ingrid opened her mouth to reply impulsively and then paused to consider her answer and the situation more carefully. Quinn glanced at Zeren, glad to see the ghost was fully on guard, watching their surroundings. Ingrid always behaved more professionally when Zeren was on duty, especially if she got a chance to show off. She liked showing off for Quinn and Zeren.
“Yeah, tree roots. Really long ones. They aren’t made of death magic, but there is death magic sticking to them like ice cream,” Ingrid reported, looking up and down a line of subtle natural magic that Quinn couldn’t see, only react to. “The roots are thicker towards the forest, but they go all the way into the building.”
Spirits. Quinn had never had to deal with spirits before, not really. Most death mages didn’t either, beyond doing something like the killing tree where the spirit was just an anchor for the gathered power, an unwilling counterbalance. He’d never really seen spirits, aside from once or twice around some shaman or another and even that was brief and from a distance. He wasn’t part of their packs and most spirits did not manifest on the physical plane and Quinn had never learned the trick of seeing spirits himself. It was possible for a death mage, just like a spirit user could learn to see ghosts, but it took effort he’d never expended.
Riordan had it easy, suddenly being able to see both because of being almost killed and then having his soul tied to a spirit and then pack bonding that spirit and a bunch of ghosts who were also tied to the spirit… Okay, so easy wasn’t quite the right word, but it skipped the “learning how” part. Instinct seemed to carry that shifter far, even if Quinn doubted Riordan could get the same result on something twice yet.
Right. Quinn suspected this “root” connected out to a physical tree covered in rotting corpses. What he didn’t know was why it had reached this far towards the death mages. What were they trying to do? Were they able to conduct the ritual from inside their complex somehow? Or were they trying to tap into the power already built up now that completing the ritual had gotten complicated? Heck. It was a spirit. It could be doing this on its own for any of a number of alien and unknowable reasons.
This is why Quinn preferred ghosts to spirits. Even the hungry ghosts at the border of the Veil made more sense to him than a spirit.
He turned to Adam, fielding this choice and his concerns to the agent. “Spirit roots from the killing tree ritual, we think. Reaching into the ceremony hall. I don’t like it.”
And not just because standing near the root made Quinn feel like someone was dancing on his grave, though that was unpleasant too.
Adam moved away, studying the situation. A gate broke up the wall another fifty yards further along and Quinn could see cameras even from here, as well as a guard posted not far away with a good line of sight on it. Adam was looking towards the ceremony building with a hungry desire that Quinn understood, wanting to see what was inside and pry out all its dark secrets. This wasn’t the time though. He shook his head, casting his vote against going further inside the complex that night.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
With professional frustration, Adam nodded and gestured for Quinn to continue their path around the perimeter. That was a distinct relief and Quinn repaid him by carefully pointing out everything he and Ingrid found for Adam to make note of. Some part of him had hoped they would have a fortuitous encounter, hearing the cultists monologuing about their diabolical plans or that one or more of the death mages would merrily wander out to deliver herself into their hands, but that wasn’t how things worked in real life. They were doing the grunt work. Inglorious and tedious, but necessary to reduce danger when they made their real plans. Not everyone could just wing it and come out golden.
Was that a bit of jealousness Quinn detected in himself? Yeah, just a bit. He needed some good luck. Maybe if he rubbed himself all over Riordan, some of that stupid luck of his would rub off on Quinn. And maybe a few other things could be rubbed at the same time. That idea put a stupid little smile on Quinn’s lips, though he didn’t let himself dwell on it. Skulking pants weren’t made to hide boners.
Quinn listened and watched as carefully as he could while they did their perimeter scouting. His main role was to translate between Ingrid and Adam, since they had the best skills for this, but he also watched the people he could see inside and wondered. Most of them looked earnest but bored or nervous. Some of them looked more serious, like they knew there were real threats that could come for them. Was that survivor paranoia, cult paranoia, or someone in the know? Quinn couldn’t tell and wished once again that it was legal and moral to try reading someone’s mind. He could manage it with death magic, but that was wasteful in the extreme and dangerous with the lack of precision that came with it.
In fact, he wondered at what sort of unintended damage that the death mages were doing, throwing those compulsions around without a mental affinity. They could force the effect, but couldn’t see the mind clearly enough to know what they bruised when they did so. He hoped that they weren’t trying to do deep delves into other minds. Only mental mages did that and only with careful preparations. Surface thoughts were one thing, but the deeper layers of the psyche got increasingly complex and tangled and unclear. The Department interrogator who used mental magic said it was easier to read surface thoughts and use mundane tactics to bring up memories or thoughts rather than going delving to find them where they dwelled the deepest. Amateurs could be far more dangerous than experts sometimes.
The guards were the only ones outside at this time and even they were sometimes watching from inside buildings rather than sitting out where mosquitoes would suck their blood. Quinn could see a couple other people moving behind the curtains in the dorm rooms, but those lights shut off before they finished the circuit. He thought he saw some reflected lights inside the main hall from lights further inside, but with his ghost vision, everything was kinda glowy, which made it hard to be sure. Time crawled as they moved. Or maybe it was just Quinn’s skin. He kept expecting someone to see them or hear them or something to happen. It was similar to the feeling of being watched, but in advance. The feeling that he was going to be watched in the future.
There was probably a German word for that.
Either way, Quinn breathed easier when they made it back to the car where Billy waited for them like a getaway driver. They’d parked away from the compound in a dirt track that was probably a hunting access track, though he didn’t think anyone was using it since the local houses were either bought by members of the cult or belonging to some stubborn elderly folks who had been there forever and were older than dirt. Well, at least this close. There were younger stubborn folk in other areas.
Michigan seemed to breed them stubborn, though the issues with rural areas tended to draw people in their twenties and thirties away for a while to look for work and then they’d come back later. Sometimes. Rural areas had issues in the current economies and Michigan was worse than most. The primary industries had been copper, lumber, and cars, and all of those took hits in the 70s and 80s and never really bounced back. Their little towns carried on, lagging behind and struggling, but stubborn. Definitely stubborn and proud.
Quinn’s mind was all over the place, but Billy did remind him of that Michigan breeding. Stocky and strong, the guard was rough around the edges, but sharp on the inside. He was skilled without getting that macho ego that made him feel like he knew best. He had been fine taking this even more dull job of waiting in the car as backup, all so that they had the best person prepped to go if things went sideways and they needed to get out of there fast or needed outside help. As Quinn took his seat in the back of the car, he could tell Billy wasn’t as calm as normal either.
“Everything alright?” Quinn asked quietly.
Billy startled slightly at the sound and then shivered all over as if trying to shake off cobwebs. “Yeah, sorry. Something about this place is… unnerving. I can’t quite name it, but it makes me feel off.”
Adam joined them, taking the passenger seat and glancing between the pair of them. “What’s wrong?”
“Just commiserating over how creepy this place feels. I’ll be glad to be gone,” Quinn said, his own eyes going back to their surroundings. That feeling of being watched was back, but he didn’t see anything out there, magical or physical, that should be causing it. His ghosts drifted over to him. Zeren was still alert, but Ingrid was yawning broadly and draped herself over Quinn with casual disinterest.
“Are we done, Quinny?” Ingrid whined, kicking her little feet behind them, right through the car seats. “My eyes hurt from all the looking and focusing…”
“You did good, Ingrid,” Quinn assured his little ghost, petting her head gently. For all that she had talents that transcended that of most beings, she was still a child at heart and likely would always be, no matter how many years passed. “Go rest. I’m sure the rest of us can take it from here.”
Ingrid nodded and disappeared into her gem, even as Zeren moved closer to Quinn’s side, their head sticking out of the roof as they kept guard. Adam glanced back at Quinn, who nodded for confirmation that all was clear at the moment. Satisfied, Adam gestured for Billy to start the car.
With one last full body shiver, Billy started the car and complied, the dark woods of the Daughters’ land disappearing behind them.