The Doomsday Archives by Zack Loran Clark

Author:Zack Loran Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zando

“I can’t believe she took my phone,” said Emrys. “Now I have to go all the way back to the portables after school.”

“If it makes you feel better, she’s a more competent disciplinarian than history teacher,” Van Stavern told him. “Her grasp of the Civil War seems rudimentary, at best.”

“How do you know that? Wait.” Emrys gasped. “Were you there?”

“Of course not!” snapped Van Stavern. “Just how old do you think I am?”

It was lunch period, and Hazel had decided to visit the media center to brush up on the periodic table. She hadn’t managed to tap into her relic’s transmutation abilities yet and seemed to think that studying chemistry would help. Emrys confessed he would rather do anything but that, so Van Stavern had suggested Emrys find a private spot where they could speak freely. Emrys had settled on the third-floor boys’ room. Nobody used this restroom if they could help it, and those who did avoided the far mirror, which was broken. It had been fixed at least twice, only to immediately break in the same spiderweb pattern. The custodial staff suspected students were to blame. The students had their own suspicions.

“You take me to the nicest places,” said Van Stavern, the spell book’s disguise abandoned as Emrys lifted it from his tote. “But this will do. With our Order diminished, the Yellow Court is sure to be emboldened—and they weren’t exactly meek before. We’d best begin your education here and now.”

Emrys’s eyes bugged out. “You mean magic?” he said. “Are you going to teach me a spell?”

“Of a sort,” answered the book. “Most spell work involves specific components and a bit of light math—”

“Aw, math?!” complained Emrys.

“But!” continued Van Stavern. “We’ll begin with a simple invocation. Something any initiate in the Order can achieve, whether or not they have any inclination for the profane geometries. Set me down, would you? If you can find a suitable surface …”

Emrys balanced the book on the edge of a sink. As he watched, awestruck, the Atlas opened of its own accord. Its pages turned as if caught in a stiff wind, quickly at first, then slowing to a stop, presumably on the page Van Stavern wanted him to see.

“Look here,” said the book. “The incantation you’ll need is right near the center of the verso page, set apart from the rest of the text.”

“Verso?” echoed Emrys.

“The left,” said Van Stavern.

“That … doesn’t even look like it’s in English.”

“It isn’t,” the book scoffed. “The forces with which the Order concerns itself are a far sight older than the English language. But you needn’t worry, I’ll guide you through it. First, set your hands upon the door over there. That’s a janitorial closet, correct? You may touch the handle or the door itself; it doesn’t matter.”

“Like this?” asked Emrys, gripping the door handle.

“Now, repeat after me,” said Van Stavern. “Ostiarius.”

“Ostiarius,” Emrys repeated, and he thought he felt a sudden breeze. He turned to look, careful to keep his hand in place. Aside from the talking book, there was nothing unusual in view.

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