But first, I needed to turn my attention to Mochazon’s whereabouts. Maybe paying a visit to the second client on my list would turn up some additional information. Thomas Clayton, the hoarder, definitely fit the profile of a Faythander visitor. What he had seen in Faythander may be the very clue I needed to find Mochazon—and to find the lost Everbloom.
Chapter 10
The visit to Thomas Clayton’s was a bust. While he qualified as a hoarder and had definitely visited the fairy world, his time spent in Faythander revealed no clue as to Mochazon’s location. Mr. Clayton’s escapades were ones I wish I could erase. He had a particular liking for Wult barbarian women with loose morals.
I left with the advice that he clean his house, throw out all his collectibles, and focus on more important things in life. There was a whole world out there with good people who could use his help, and immersing himself in self-indulgences would never lead to happiness. Maybe some would disagree with me, but his curiosity had become an all-consuming drug that had overtaken his life.
On a brighter note, Doc Hill’s office finally saw fit to pay me, which I used for the rent, utilities, cat food, and a few groceries. I almost felt normal again.
After the visit to Mr. Clayton’s, the bus dropped me off at my apartment at half past eleven. I’d hoped to get home sooner, but the bus, I found out, wasn’t as efficient as Brent.
Pulling my sweater tight, I climbed the stairs to my door. A flickering yellow streetlamp was my only light as I stuck my keys in the knob.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned, half expecting to see Mr. Yen, my elderly neighbor, climbing the stairwell, but the landing was empty.
Off in the distance, I heard the insistent barking of a dog. Fog shrouded the open courtyard below me. If someone were hiding down there, I’d have no way to tell. Staring into the fog, Fan’twar’s words came to me. Geth searches for the magical bloom. He will not rest until it is destroyed. He will not hesitate to kill you. A sudden chill made me shiver, and I quickly entered my apartment and locked the door behind me.
Han Solo greeted me with a long mewl as I unstrapped my backpack. I gave him a pat on the head, somehow wishing I’d picked a large Doberman as my house pet instead of my harmless, lovable kitty. In his defense, he did make a fearful predator to my yarn collection.
The sound of the dog’s barking outside became more insistent. I glanced at the window, though I couldn’t see anything through the curtains. A gust of wind howled outside, making leaves and debris dash against the glass.
I wasn’t sure my Earth magic was powerful enough to use in creating a defensive spell. Would I have any chance against Geth’s men if they attacked? My only choice was to rely on Earth magic. I hoped it was enough.
The wind died down. I stood, frozen, gazing at the window, my hands balled into fists. The faint hum of Earth magic throbbed through my fingertips.
Nothing’s out there. Let it go.
I exhaled a steady breath and let the magic dissipate, praying I wouldn’t need it tonight.
Looking for a distraction, I sat on the couch and opened my backpack. I still had to spellcast the tissue from Chester’s room. Hopefully, there was some sort of residue left. I found the tissue and held it carefully as I tried to detect the magic.
A very faint, almost-imperceptible, grayish glow came from the tissue. At least I’d found the magical trace. But what now? How would I discover what had happened to Chester?
An idea struck me, and I laid the tissue aside to pull out my mirror case. Could I try and use the tissue to replay Chester’s memories? I’d never tried anything like that before and wasn’t sure it would work. For one, I’d have to use Earth magic to initiate the spell, and for another, I’d only ever used actual people to replay lost memories, not objects. But if it worked, it would lead me closer to Geth, and possibly to Mochazon.
Popping open my case, I stared into the mirror and then placed the tissue in front of the screen. I already knew goblin magic had been at play, and because the goblins had used a potion—which would have been created before the loss of magic—it could still be a viable source of power.
I removed the coordinating goblin figurine from my case and placed it on top of the tissue. Nothing happened, although I wasn’t surprised. My mirror’s Faythander magic was gone, so I gently shut my eyes and let my mind relax, focusing on the amber-white Earth magic inside me.
It flowed slowly, but eventually, it rose to the surface and I released it into the tissue. Opening my eyes, I watched as the magic combined with the goblin’s potion. In the mirror’s screen, an image began to form, and soon I got sucked into the vision…
Chester walked along the sidewalk near the harbor. It was so dark that the only light came from the dull orange glow of his cigarette’s ember. As he walked, the sloshing sound of lapping waves beat a steady rhythm in the distance.
He stopped, staring at the long boardwalk that spanned toward the ocean. “Someone there?” he called.
No answer.
He took a step toward the boardwalk, when a cloaked form materialized at the end of the pier.
“We have been looking for you, Mochazon,” came the man’s voice.
I recognized that voice. Nehor—Geth’s second in command.
“Who are you?” Chester called.
Nehor walked forward without answering, his cloak billowing and his booted feet making heavy thumps against the creaking boards. Chester backed away when the man emerged, and I understood why. Nehor carried an elven gun—a basita—a weapon that sent shivers down my spine. I’d been shot by one once and didn’t care to let it ever
