Simon was struck by a bolt of flame. He didn’t cry out and spun around, his coat afire. Ignoring it, he clapped his hands together in front of him and sent out a powerful concussion. The force blasted Nick off his feet. The room shook and books flew from the shelves.
Simon didn’t move closer. He stood in the middle of the room and slammed his hands together again. The windows blew out. The flames were snuffed. The floor started to buckle. The walls cracked. Another wave rolled out and shoved Nick back as if an elephant had kicked him.
Simon slammed his hands once more. Nick was crushed into a large mahogany bookcase, cracking the sturdy shelves. Another blast buried Nick into the plaster.
And again Simon struck. The ceiling showered down across the smashed floor. Nick was crushed deep through the wall like an insect pressed under a pane of glass.
Then again.
And again.
In the swirling clouds of dust, the sitting room was gone. The wooden framing was visible under the shattered walls, much of it cracked and splintered, along with the bricks of the outer wall. Simon shoved a heavy beam aside and pushed through the jagged hole in the wall into the disheveled pantry. With both hands, he tossed wreckage until he found what he sought.
Nick was limp. His face was bloody. His clothes were torn and the flesh underneath was blue and swollen as if he had been crushed for hours in the unforgiving gears of a heavy machine. Red liquid bubbled from his lips.
“Is this what you wanted, old man?” Simon pulled him up. Nick’s limbs dangled like deadweight. Simon turned and dragged his friend over the wreckage back into the ruins of the sitting room. The portal stood shimmering in the dust. He shook his old friend. Nick’s bruised eyelids slowly slit open. His mouth gaped, confused and disoriented.
Simon felt blood dripping warm across his belly. “My father helped make this key. He was a man who could have done things no one could’ve imagined. But he’s not here.”
Nick was speaking, or trying to. He struggled to keep his head up. With a hard shove, Simon propelled Nick into the portal. The surface puckered and drew him in, then Nick appeared sprawling in the Parisian chamber. He blinked in shock and stared back at Simon. He shook his head as if wishing, even begging, that this would go a different way.
Simon heard a sound, and turned away to see Kate and Malcolm in the tumbled doorway of the sitting room. Charlotte and Penny stood behind them. They all had faces as if they had been watching a dangerous acrobatic act, and only now realized someone wasn’t going to step off the high wire and plunge to his death in front of their eyes.
Simon knelt because of a stab in his chest. He met Kate’s gaze, trying not to show pain. He couldn’t think of anything proper to say. She dropped in front of him, checking him, then glancing over at the portal and Nick.
“The bastard really did kill your father?” Malcolm reached for his pistol. “I can take him if you wish.”
“No. Leave him.” Simon shook his head. The Scotsman withdrew his hand from his holster with a confused look. Simon held up the key without turning back to the portal. “Marthsyl.”
Nick Barker vanished.
Simon dropped the key to the floor. He leaned the top of his head against Kate’s forehead.
Kate took his drained face in one of her hands; the other tentatively touched the bloodstain on his chest.
Simon shook his head. “I couldn’t kill him.”
Kate’s cool fingers slipped over the back of his neck. “Of course not.”
“Was it wise to let him go?” Malcolm asked, hovering over the pair. “One day you’ll want to go after him.”
“Nick once told me to stay on the path I’m on. If I wander off, I’ll never find my way back.” That memory hurt, and he wondered if those words of guidance had been nothing more than a cruel diversion to hide a monstrous act. Still, Simon had to cling to them as if they were truth.
Epilogue
Autumn sunlight streamed into every corner of Hartley Hall. There was little to block the rays with the gaps in the walls and roof. Repairs were under way most everywhere in the house. But the Blue Parlor was left alone for now to provide a refuge. Kate looked out over the open terrace that had been repaired. It now stretched fifty yards from the house to a wide timber bridge built to span the canyon surrounding the house.
Kate turned from the altered southern grounds. Everyone stood somber and alone, hardly speaking. The house had become much quieter over the last few weeks. Charlotte lay on the floor with Aethelred, her arm draped over his form, his large head pressed against her cheek, his thick fur soaking up the remainder of her tears. Simon sat on the sofa, staring into a past that threatened to consume him. Malcolm stood like a dark wraith with Penny silently nearby.