Misfortune Market: A HASEA CHRONICLES STORY (BOOK 1.5) by Stuart Meczes Page A
Authors: Stuart Meczes
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his teeth over his jugular. “One more step and I’ll tear his throat out.”
We stopped moving. We had played our one move and were straight back into stalemate. We all looked to each other for answers and came up empty. What now?
“You should leave now,” said Albert in an emotionless voice.
Gabriella shook her head. “No, that’s not how this works. We are here to help.”
“You should leave. Now,” he repeated. The way the mayor spoke the words the second time were odd. Like they had a sense of finality to them. It was then that I noticed something was happening to Albert. His face had gone deathly still and his breathing had slowed. He coiled his fists together and grit his teeth. Like a plug had been switched on, his markings flared white and his eyes turned translucent and started glowing like Sage Faru’s. A low growl escaped his throat and his face turned dark and stormy. There was a loud crack as the picture behind him split. The crack widened until the whole wall had splintered. A second later the plaster crumbled to the floor, patches of it covered in the broken magic symbol. The same thing was happening to his face – deep wrinkles appeared, turning into deep cracks that let out bright light.
Malachi – like us – was stunned. He paused over Albert’s neck, staring down in confusion at the pile of plaster and at the old man, who was now glowing like a beacon.
“I must atone,” he whispered, his voice sharp and unnatural. “Through our death I will pay for my sins.”
He reached out a crumbling hand towards the corner of the room. A metal cabinet standing there started to rattle. A second later it snapped open, sending a broken padlock pinging to the floor. Something burst from inside and flew through the air, right into Albert’s outstretched hand. A split second later I identified it.
A small bell jar covered by a black cloth.
‘No!” screamed Malachi as he realised what it was. He bit down hard into Albert’s throat, tearing away at his jugular. White blood seeped over his teeth and he let out a strangled howl as it burned his mouth. The Shaman started to pull away the cloth.
“Albert, don’t!” cried Gabriella.
“LEAVE!” he bellowed.
“Come on!” I grabbed Gabriella and shoved her back through the doorway, piling through the gap with the rest of the team and the unconscious shifter.
Before we slammed the door shut, I saw Albert pull away the cloth. Frozen in the blinding light that followed was a single image – held in eternity like a celestial photograph. It was of the Will O’ Wisp exploding from the crushed bell jar. Both Albert and Malachi’s bodies were frozen in the process of instant dissolving - the particles of their bodies separated from their bodies as if they no longer knew how to remain connected.
The door slammed shut and the dull boom of the explosion was followed by the door splintering into shards. It collapsed at our feet and the aftermath of Albert’s actions were laid bare for us all to see.
Everything on the other side of the doorway was covered in a smooth, white powder, as if someone had set off a fire extinguisher. Nothing was recognisable anymore – the desk, the whisky bottle, the picture, everything had been reduced to base building blocks of matter.
Malachi and Albert had become husks - frames of melted bone and flesh dusted with the ash like topping.
“I can’t believe he sacrificed himself,” Gabriella said, staring at the macabre remains.
“I can,” I said. “In his mind it was the only way he could write the wrongs he felt he committed.”
No one spoke for a few the next minute – an unspoken moment of respectful silence for the troubled man who had given his life to make things right. After a while Gabriella let out a sigh. “Grey, make sure the Wisp can’t rebirth itself.”
He nodded. “No problem, Huntmaster.”
Grey walked into the room and extended his arms over the bodies. A stream of bright, blistering
We stopped moving. We had played our one move and were straight back into stalemate. We all looked to each other for answers and came up empty. What now?
“You should leave now,” said Albert in an emotionless voice.
Gabriella shook her head. “No, that’s not how this works. We are here to help.”
“You should leave. Now,” he repeated. The way the mayor spoke the words the second time were odd. Like they had a sense of finality to them. It was then that I noticed something was happening to Albert. His face had gone deathly still and his breathing had slowed. He coiled his fists together and grit his teeth. Like a plug had been switched on, his markings flared white and his eyes turned translucent and started glowing like Sage Faru’s. A low growl escaped his throat and his face turned dark and stormy. There was a loud crack as the picture behind him split. The crack widened until the whole wall had splintered. A second later the plaster crumbled to the floor, patches of it covered in the broken magic symbol. The same thing was happening to his face – deep wrinkles appeared, turning into deep cracks that let out bright light.
Malachi – like us – was stunned. He paused over Albert’s neck, staring down in confusion at the pile of plaster and at the old man, who was now glowing like a beacon.
“I must atone,” he whispered, his voice sharp and unnatural. “Through our death I will pay for my sins.”
He reached out a crumbling hand towards the corner of the room. A metal cabinet standing there started to rattle. A second later it snapped open, sending a broken padlock pinging to the floor. Something burst from inside and flew through the air, right into Albert’s outstretched hand. A split second later I identified it.
A small bell jar covered by a black cloth.
‘No!” screamed Malachi as he realised what it was. He bit down hard into Albert’s throat, tearing away at his jugular. White blood seeped over his teeth and he let out a strangled howl as it burned his mouth. The Shaman started to pull away the cloth.
“Albert, don’t!” cried Gabriella.
“LEAVE!” he bellowed.
“Come on!” I grabbed Gabriella and shoved her back through the doorway, piling through the gap with the rest of the team and the unconscious shifter.
Before we slammed the door shut, I saw Albert pull away the cloth. Frozen in the blinding light that followed was a single image – held in eternity like a celestial photograph. It was of the Will O’ Wisp exploding from the crushed bell jar. Both Albert and Malachi’s bodies were frozen in the process of instant dissolving - the particles of their bodies separated from their bodies as if they no longer knew how to remain connected.
The door slammed shut and the dull boom of the explosion was followed by the door splintering into shards. It collapsed at our feet and the aftermath of Albert’s actions were laid bare for us all to see.
Everything on the other side of the doorway was covered in a smooth, white powder, as if someone had set off a fire extinguisher. Nothing was recognisable anymore – the desk, the whisky bottle, the picture, everything had been reduced to base building blocks of matter.
Malachi and Albert had become husks - frames of melted bone and flesh dusted with the ash like topping.
“I can’t believe he sacrificed himself,” Gabriella said, staring at the macabre remains.
“I can,” I said. “In his mind it was the only way he could write the wrongs he felt he committed.”
No one spoke for a few the next minute – an unspoken moment of respectful silence for the troubled man who had given his life to make things right. After a while Gabriella let out a sigh. “Grey, make sure the Wisp can’t rebirth itself.”
He nodded. “No problem, Huntmaster.”
Grey walked into the room and extended his arms over the bodies. A stream of bright, blistering
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