Ritual of the Broken (Haunted Hearts)

Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

“ O llie?” Adrian called out, his voice echoing through the empty graveyard.

Only seconds ago, the mage stood steps away. Now Ollie had vanished. He snuffed the air to pick up his scent.

Nothing. Gone.

Adrian tensed, every muscle in his body coiled like a tightly wound spring. His nostrils flared, drawing in the scents around him—damp earth, decaying leaves, and the ever-present ozone that lingered after a spell. But no trace of Ollie. It was as if he had been plucked from existence itself.

A growl rumbled low in Adrian’s throat as frustration mounted. He despised feeling powerless, a sensation all too familiar from the trauma inflicted by Colonel Langford years ago.

Squaring his shoulders, Adrian forced himself to focus. He was a detective, trained to observe and analyze every detail. There had to be a clue, some minute aberration that could point him in the right direction.

He’d only been with Ollie for the better part of one day, but even in that short time, he’d come to see Ollie as more than just another annoying and hated mage. Was it too early to call him a friend? As frustrating as the man could be, there was more to him, more that Adrian wanted to get to know. To lose him at this early stage was suddenly unthinkable.

A blood-curdling scream shattered the air. Adrian’s every nerve sprang to attention, assaulted with adrenaline. Though distant, the cry screeched into his hyper-sensitive ears.

Ollie!

Adrian didn’t hesitate. He pulled at his shirt, opening it to his waist. He’d long ago learned only to buy shirts that snapped rather than buttoned, and he was soon naked, chest bare. With practiced ease, he slipped out of the rest of his clothes, facilitated by how his body changed as he moved. It hurt like bending a joint too far, but it was a pain he was used to. And it was over in seconds.

He called upon his wolf form, feeling smooth fur ripple across his skin as muscles stretched and reknit into powerful haunches. Claws dug into the dirt of the cemetery as Adrian allowed his predatory instincts to take over.

He bounded through the tombstones on four paws in the direction of the shriek. The unmistakable stench of brimstone hit his nostrils. More magic, this time different. Yet also familiar.

That smell. Ollie said it was frankincense and citrus. He recognized it from the crime scene. From Zachary O’Brien’s death.

Adrian tracked the odor as it intensified, weaving between graves like he pursued agile prey. Ahead, he picked a faint yet distinct magical trail. And intermingled with the brimstone was Ollie’s trace aroma, earthy and familiar.

Adrian was close.

The oppressive weight of the entity’s darkness bore down on Ollie, a tempestuous storm cloud made of pure malevolence. Its form seemed fluid, a swirling mass of smoke, constantly shifting and reforming. The space around it bent away from the creature as if its darkness pushed at the reality around it. This was a creature of evil, a relic of the void.

Now would be a good time to run.

But even as the fear threatened to turn him away, he had to stay. The creature’s red-eyed stare looked past Ollie to where Eleanor still fled. He was the only thing between this monster and Eleanor, and saving Eleanor became his purpose. If he ran now, she would die.

Still, the sheer size and formlessness of the creature were like nothing he’d encountered before. Every spell, every incantation he’d ever learned raced through his mind, searching for a weapon, a defense—anything.

He had nothing. No spells at the ready, no components he could produce. All he had were his wits and raw power. It had to be enough.

Ollie reached out a hand. Telekinesis was something taught early, even before the academy. It came as second nature to nearly every mage. He wrapped his power around the tombstones that flanked him, their age-old weight seeming almost feather-light as he commanded them to rise. With a heave of his arm, he sent the twin stones hurtling toward the entity, hoping their force would stall the creature’s advance.

But his heart plummeted as he watched them pass harmlessly through the monster, crashing into each other and shattering into a cascade of debris. The cold realization hit him: the entity was non-corporeal.

Ollie’s mind raced. He couldn’t afford to hesitate, but he didn’t have a lot of options. His gaze landed on another tombstone that read Grandpa Kawalski arching across the top.

An idea struck. Granite. Its grounding properties were well-known. He shouted an incantation, causing the nearby tombstone to splinter and crumble.

“Sorry, Grandpa Kawalski,” Ollie muttered as he scooped up a handful of the resulting granite dust. To most, it was rock and debris. To him, the component’s potent energy reacted to the power gathered around him. And it didn’t hurt that it was a gravestone in contact with grave dirt.

With the creature mere feet away, Ollie released the granite dust directly into its path, focusing all his energy into the palm of his hand, where a shimmering sigil materialized. It glowed brightly, pulsating in time with his hammering heart. As the powder met the entity, the sigil flared to life, releasing its enchantment.

As soon as the creature met the blowing powder, the transformation was instantaneous. The entity stumbled, unprepared for the sudden shift in its existence—its sudden weight and substance. Its former momentum worked against it, causing it to crash hard to the ground, disoriented and momentarily subdued.

For a heartbeat, Ollie allowed himself a moment of triumph. The air became redolent with an odor like frankincense and citrus, just like what he caught when he found his mother that day. Just like he smelled in his vision with Zachary O’Brien. It was shockingly out of place, all things considered. But it was also something with more depth, and almost a metallic after-scent. Not actual frankincense, perhaps, but something else. A different source, a substance from the place where this creature came.

But that moment of victory was swiftly shattered by a bone-chilling growl. The creature, solidified and more terrifying than ever, locked its newly formed eyes onto Ollie. Those eyes, blacker than the deepest abyss and still tinged with a red hatred, burned with fury and retribution.

Victory had come at a cost: Ollie was now the sole focus of the creature’s wrath.

Adrian darted through the tombstones as the light in the cemetery dimmed and changed. It could have been eight in the evening or midnight. He no longer moved in the real world, or so it seemed.

But he locked onto a scent—Ollie’s distinct aroma touched with traces of the arcane. It became a signal fire for his nose. And that woodsy, citrus odor that nearly overwhelmed everything now.

He spotted Ollie through the twisted forms of broken tombstones. He was engaged in an intricate dance of spellwork, his fingers tracing patterns in the air, producing luminescent symbols that floated transiently before dissipating.

But Ollie wasn’t alone.

An embodiment of pure darkness stood just beyond reach, slowed by Ollie’s worked magic but not stopped. It drew closer with each thudding step.

Adrian lunged, his wolf instincts taking control. The stench that was now sickly sweet and overbearing hit him, all of it from the entity. As he closed the distance, a surge of power pulsed through him, morphing his body. He was no longer just the wolf or the man, but a formidable fusion of the two: a werewolf of legend, muscles taut and ready for combat.

As he tackled the entity, his jaws found purchase on its dark form. It let out an agonized roar, an otherworldly sound that bounced off the granite headstones.

But Adrian’s momentary advantage was swiftly countered. The entity, reacting with surprising speed, took on a denser form, its black smoke coalescing into a hardened exterior. It struck out, catching Adrian off guard. The force of the blow sent him reeling, a stinging gash marring his chest.

Recovering quickly, Adrian sized up his foe. In his time, he’d faced off against other werewolves, some even bigger than himself. He fought bears and mountain lions. Once there was a vampire that his pack tracked and chased out of town.

But this creature was unlike anything he had ever faced. Its movements were unpredictable, its form mutable. It was a constantly changing puzzle, and Adrian had to stay one step ahead if he hoped to defeat it.

With a snarl, Adrian lunged once more, aiming for the entity’s throat. But the creature was ready, sidestepping him and ensnaring him in a viselike grip, its black claws digging into Adrian’s skin. Blood ran down Adrian’s arm as the creature gripped tighter.

Struggling against the entity’s hold, Adrian snarled, snapping his formidable jaws, trying to break free. With a burst of strength, he raked his claws across the creature’s abdomen. The entity howled, releasing Adrian and stumbling back, its dark essence leaking like smoky blood from the gashes.

But before Adrian could capitalize on his attack, he was sent flying, crashing into a tombstone that shattered upon impact. Dazed, he tried to rise, only to see the creature, wounded but far from defeated, preparing for another assault.

Just as the entity lunged, the air crackled with energy. A brilliant bolt of lightning laced with arcane power descended from the heavens, striking the creature with a force that knocked it to the ground. Standing triumphantly behind the fallen entity was Ollie, his fingers still crackling with residual magic, eyes blazing with intensity.

Adrian locked gazes with Ollie, a silent exchange even in his wolf form of understanding and camaraderie.

Their brief respite was interrupted by a harrowing scream. Both turned to see Eleanor, her form slumped against a mausoleum.

Above her, a second shadowy entity hovered, tendrils of darkness reaching out as if trying to siphon away her soul.

Rage bubbled within Adrian. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let history repeat itself.

But before he could move, the entity over Eleanor vanished, its dark form dissipating like smoke caught in the wind. Simultaneously, the creature Adrian and Ollie had been combating began to laugh, a deep, guttural sound dripping with malevolence. And just as suddenly, it too disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a chilling void.

The aftermath was eerily silent. Adrian approached Eleanor’s lifeless form, but he didn’t need to examine her any closer. Already, her lack of scent touched his wolf nose—she was dead.

And soulless.