Ritual of the Broken (Haunted Hearts)

Chapter 22

Chapter

Twenty-Two

O llie scanned for any signs of movement or potential threats. Cars leapt past by like springing beasts. Hand movements of people on the sidewalks seemed ready to unleash spells. His heart raced. The wind from the shattered windshield made it impossible to even think.

Ollie grabbed for his bag and pulled out a small vial of an amber liquid. Tree sap, harvested for its stickiness. There was no inherent power in it other than for what it was. But it was still a focus.

He plucked a piece of the shattered windshield and opened up the vial to drop it in. Then he sent his focus into the vial and into the glass. It grew hot in his palm, and the sap hardened. Then the glass that had been scattered around the car trembled and formed into a windshield again. It wasn’t perfect. There were still pieces of glass missing. But at least they weren’t getting blasted in the face by wind.

“Are they gone?” Adrian’s voice cut through the new silence.

Ollie glanced out the back window and nodded. “For now, but they’ll be back.” He held up the journal. “They want this book.”

Adrian’s brow furrowed as he watched the road. “Can you block them from tracking it?”

He gripped the journal in both hands as he focused his attention on the magic built into it. He could just see the patterns of spellwork woven into its leather-bound cover and into the pages, a pulsing energy that seemed to resonate just beneath the book’s binding. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his own magical senses, probing the book’s essence.

Everything, even inanimate objects, possessed a core essence that defined its existence. Almost like a soul. And this book’s soul was intertwined with powerful tracking runes embedded deep within its fibers, far beyond mere surface markings. Ollie could sense the magic reaching out, a beacon for those seeking to reclaim the journal. He was angry with himself for not realizing the book itself was warded.

“I think I can mask the tracking magic,” Ollie said, his voice low and measured as he worked a sigil and pulled power from the bracelet he had placed back on his wrist. This wasn’t a difficult spell, but he had to keep it active. “It’s going to take all my focus. If I’m going to make it permanent, we need to find somewhere safe, a place where I can work uninterrupted.”

“Okay.” Adrian changed lanes and gassed it again to make it through a yellow light. “Where?”

Ollie’s mind raced as he tried to think of a safe haven where they could regroup and strategize their next move. His usual fallback, the cozy confines of his shop, was no longer an option. Emmerich knew about it, and there was no telling if the Synod had already compromised its security.

After a moment’s contemplation, an idea struck him. “Wicker Park,” he said.

Adrian slowed and made a turn at the next stoplight toward the north. “Okay. What’s in Wicker Park?”

Ollie pulled out his phone and got an address. He showed it to Adrian.

They arrived at Wabansia Avenue, and Adrian went to the trunk of his car to get a change of clothes. Ollie guessed that’s what werewolves had to do for moments like when mages attack from nowhere. They kept clothes handy. All he needed was a shirt. It wasn’t like werewolf movies where a change immediately shredded clothes.

As they walked to an apartment building, Adrian pulled on a T-shirt. An eyeful of Adrian without a shirt was a good thing, but Adrian in a tight T-shirt was equally dangerous. It threatened his concentration while keeping the book’s tracking runes locked down. It took a lot of mental effort to maintain this spell. The runes pushed against him like battering rams .

The door to the apartment building was locked, with a panel of buttons to the various apartments off to the side. Before Ollie could turn his focus to finding the right one, Adrian pulled hard on the door. It caught once then pulled open. Circumstances warranted it.

They went upstairs to the third floor and down a hallway.

Ollie rapped his knuckles against the wood, the sound reverberating down the dimly lit hallway. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing Mary Ann’s familiar face framed by her jet-black hair and adorned with her signature pale-faced makeup with dark-lined eyes. She looked like she was getting ready to go out.

Her eyes widened momentarily. “What, you don’t come in to work for two days, and suddenly you show up on my doorstep?” she quipped, her tone laced with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “I had to unload an entire shipment of stones and crystals on Wednesday by myself, and Richard was three hours late, so I hope you don’t mind that I closed the store early.”

Ollie offered her a sheepish smile, acutely aware of the sweat beading on his brow from the strain of the magic he worked to keep the tracking runes contained. “I’ve been... involved,” he replied, his gaze flickering toward Adrian.

Mary Ann’s eyes followed Ollie’s, raking over Adrian’s rugged form with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk. “I can see that,” she murmured, extending her hand toward the detective in a friendly gesture. “Mary Ann.”

Adrian accepted her handshake, his grip firm and professional. “Adrian Keller,” he introduced himself, his steely gaze betraying little of the supernatural circumstances that had brought them to her doorstep.

Ollie cleared his throat, the weight of the journal growing heavier in his grasp. “Mary Ann, can we come in?” he asked, his voice strained as he fought to maintain the masking spell’s integrity.

“What, are you vampires? Of course you can come in. You don’t need my invitation.” Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t look so good,” she said

Ollie stepped inside Mary Ann’s apartment, still focusing on the old journal clutched in his hands. The weight of the book seemed to increase with every passing moment.

He made his way to the table, placing the journal down and letting out a shallow breath. “You still dabble in Wicca, right?” he asked.

Mary Ann quirked an eyebrow. “Of course,” she replied, her tone laced with a hint of amusement. “I don’t know if ‘dabble’ is the right term to use.”

Adrian, who had followed them inside, looked between Ollie and Mary Ann, his brow furrowed. “Is Wicca real?” he asked, his skepticism evident.

“Yes,” Mary Ann stated firmly, at the same time Ollie shook his head and said, “No.”

Mary Ann’s eyes widened, her expression a mixture of shock and offense as she stared at Ollie. “You run a shop that sells crystals and ritual tools, and you don’t… ”

Ollie corrected himself. “I mean, it’s not real in the sense of working magic.”

With her hands on her hips, Mary Ann opened her mouth to voice further protest.

Ollie held up a hand, his focus still divided between the conversation and the magic he was maintaining on the journal. “I need some of the components you use in your Wicca rituals,” he said, his words coming out in a rushed breath.

Mary Ann’s lips pursed, and she crossed her arms. “Why, if you don’t believe it’s real? You’re going to come into my house and insult my religion and say it’s not real, then why the hell should I let you use anything I need for my so-called ‘fake’ magic?”

Adrian let out a low chuckle. “I like her,” he murmured.

Ollie’s grip tightened on the table, his knuckles turning white as he rattled off a list of items he needed: herbs, candles, crystals. He stumbled over some words because it was hard to think. The wards hammered hard at his willpower keeping it locked down, a continuous, unrelenting pounding on his skull. It increasingly consumed his entire mind just to keep the masking spell in place.

As Mary Ann’s eyes swept over Ollie’s strained features, her snarky demeanor melted away, replaced by a look of genuine concern. “What’s going on with you?” she asked.

“Can you just get me the components? ”

“What do you need them for?” Her brow knit.

When Ollie didn’t respond, she nodded and muttered to herself as she walked from the living room deeper into the apartment. Whatever she said made Adrian chuckle.

Ollie turned all his attention to the book. It felt as if it was winning, as if he could lose hold of it at any moment. He had to concentrate. The push of the wards was tireless. And it was breaking him down.

After what felt like an hour but was probably only a few minutes, Mary Ann returned from her room, arms laden with an assortment of candles, crystals, and various herbs. She put them onto the table and gave Ollie another quizzical look. “Now are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

Ollie ignored the question and instead looked over the components while still trying to keep the tracking magic built into the book locked down. What Mary Ann had wasn’t much. They weren’t ideal, but they would have to do. And maybe he had something of his own…

“I need my bag.”

Adrian walked to the couch where he’d dropped the bag and brought it over. Ollie pulled out his own little component box. His supplies were getting low, but he had a few more things that could prove useful. He focused a moment, as much as he could allow, until he found what he was looking for: A surveyor’s compass, an old piece made of bronze he’d gotten at an antique store because it carried a unique energy. Likely it was used in a ritual at one time, or it was owned by a mage, though he’d never bothered to track any of that energy with his own magic.

“What is that?” Mary Ann asked.

“A compass. Hopefully it will help.”

“You just carry that around?” When Ollie didn’t answer, Mary Ann stomped her foot. “Help with what?”

Ollie looked at her, the strain of keeping the tracking magic under control causing him to feel hot and dizzy. “You’re going to learn a few things about me—and about the world—today,” he said, his voice tight with his concentration. “Think you can handle that?”

Mary Ann’s eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate. “As long as it tells me what the hell is going on. Absolutely,” she replied.

Nodding, Ollie turned back to the book, tracing a sigil over the worn leather cover with his finger, leaving it glowing just above the surface of the book. He selected a few candles, strategically positioned them around the book, and lit them with a wave of his hand.

Mary Ann gasped and fell into a chair. She began to speak, but Ollie lifted a hand to silence her. She complied.

Next, he reached for a quartz crystal, allowing it to act as a focus for his intent. With practiced movements, he sprinkled a mixture of herbs and crushed minerals around the book, creating a protective circle.

Finally, Ollie retrieved the compass. He whispered an arcane word, and the compass hovered above the book, its needle spinning inside.

Mary Ann made another sound. “What the…! It’s?— ”

Adrian shushed her.

Drawing in a deep breath, Ollie extended his hands over the makeshift altar, his fingers splayed as he tapped into the well of magic within him. The candles flickered, their flames seeming to respond to the surge of energy in the room.

Ollie began to whisper the spell, his voice low and resonant, the ancient words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. The air crackled with static electricity, and the compass trembled. Somewhere, a wall creaked as if the power Ollie called pushed against it. The needle of the compass turned fast enough that it made a small ticking sound.

Suddenly, the journal trembled as if fighting against the spell Ollie weaved. The windows rattled in their frames, and the furniture shook violently. Ollie gritted his teeth, his focus unwavering as he poured more energy into the spell.

Ollie reached out with his willpower and enveloped the compass in a spell he hoped would be enough to break through the tracking sigils. He had to reach deep.

Just when it seemed like the wards on the book might overpower him, a ghostly figure materialized beside him. His ghost again. She extended her hands, lending her spectral energy to Ollie’s efforts.

With their combined power, the compass shattered. And with it, the wards on the journal unraveled, and a wave of energy rippled through the room. The building trembled. Outside a car alarm sounded. The candles flickered and went out, and the runes on the stones faded, their purpose fulfilled.

Ollie slumped back, his chest heaving. The book was hidden, its magic masked from prying eyes—at least for now.

“Holy shit fuck!” Mary Ann was on her feet. She stared between Ollie and the book and at everything else.

Ollie met her wild-eyed, excited stare, and he smiled.

Then he passed out.