Demon Hunter (The Collegium Book 1) (4 page)

The portal was in the basement of a house in Queens. It was not the official Collegium-recognized portal for New York, nor was Cynthia Nguyen a Collegium-recognized porter.

She was, however, typically portal crazy.

In her case, the mania took the form of collecting soft toys. Teddy bears, rabbits, ducks, cartoon characters and rag dolls filled shelf after shelf in the heated basement. Magic animated each toy and they ruffed, quacked and chatted in a low volume clamor.

“They’re company,” Cynthia said. “And Squiffy guards the portal.”

Squiffy was a blue lamb that fluffed its fleece in pleasure at being mentioned. Then it nibbled at the green line enclosing the portal. The line flickered and sparked.

“Instinct.” Cynthia smiled fondly at the blue lamb. “Isn’t Mama’s Squiffy a funny baa-lamb, trying to chew the portal?”

Squiffy sneezed and trotted over to butt Cynthia’s shin.

“Quite right,” she said. “Jim is waiting to hear from us. Are you ready, ladies?”

“Ready and eager to be home,” Yolanthe said.

“Good.” Cynthia extended her hand over the line of green light. Her physical intrusion into the portal was sufficient to trigger its powers. “Jim, are you there? You owe me travelling time.”

“I pay my debts, Cyn. Send them on through.” The Australian drawl sounded clear despite the portal’s echo.

Cynthia pinched two dabs of green light and tagged Fay and Yolanthe.

Immediately, Yolanthe stepped over the green line and vanished.

“As casual as a stroll in the park.” Cynthia nodded approval. “Clear to see her partner’s a porter.” She frowned at Fay. “Hurry it up.”

“Thank you for use of your portal,” Fay said meticulously. It didn’t offer her nearly as much delay as she suddenly wanted. How had she forgotten how much she hated portal travel and the need to trust her safety to a stranger?

Easily. Yolanthe’s offer of portal travel had given her the chance to escape the city and evade the Collegium’s trackers. That was worth the discomfort.

“Thank Jim.” Cynthia flapped her hand in a shooing gesture. “Get on through.”

Fay glanced down at the tag of green light on her arm, braced herself for the shock of immersion, and stepped into the portal.

The basement vanished. Around her the darkness was lit by slowly swirling stars. There was no up or down. Her disorientation was complete. Only the green light still glowing on her arm reassured her that Cynthia could always find and retrieve her. She walked forward three more steps and the cheerful Australian voice said. “There you are.”

Blue light zapped her, dislodging Cynthia’s green.

Her fourth step took Fay out of the darkness and through another portal.

The blue light faded, leaving a small square cellar softly lit by an unshaded, low watt light globe. The walls were honey-colored, rough-cut limestone, the floor white beach sand, and hundreds of sea shells spread in patterns over the floor and on niches in the walls. The hushing sound of the sea filled the crowded space like a lullaby.

Fay wasn’t comforted. She shuddered and shook like a dog coming out of an unwanted cold bath.

“Hell, Yolly. The kid’s not portal fit.” A short, broad man who could only be Jim, scowled at Yolanthe even as he grabbed Fay’s arm. He bristled like a grey-haired terrier. “Up the ladder with you.”

The ceiling was barely higher than Fay’s head, yet the crude wooden ladder seemed dauntingly tall. Her legs were wobbly, but her hands grasped the ladder firmly. She knew from experience that she’d feel better away from the portal. “Promise me coffee and I’ll make it up the ladder.”

“You can have a whole pot full,” Jim said.

“If you fall, I’ll catch you,” Yolanthe added.

Fay choked on a laugh.

Jim put his head back and roared. “She’s double your size, darl.”

“I’d manage.”

The concern and determination in Yolanthe’s voice were unfamiliar to Fay. No one caught her when she fell. Life lessons of self-reliance sent her up the ladder faster than prudence dictated. She emerged into a tidy storage space and shuffled aside as Yolanthe and then Jim followed, carrying Fay’s bag. He closed and bolted the trap door and kicked a cotton mat over it.

“Coffee.” Jim lead the way through a cement-floored laundry room with a double sink and large table beneath the louvered window.

The kitchen was across a wide hallway. Fay blinked at the bright sunlight. She wasn’t up to calculating time differences, but the cuckoo clock above the sink read half past ten. She had lost half a day and it was morning again. For all the disorientation in the portal, the experience would have been no more than a minute, tagged as she’d been from porter to porter.

“I’m sorry, Fay. I didn’t see you weren’t portal fit. Nor did Cynthia.” Yolanthe’s forehead wrinkled at the final thought. “Jim?”

“Yeah.” He poured coffee into three mugs. “Cyn should have seen. I owe you an apology, Yolly. How’d you hide it, Faith?”

She accepted the mug of coffee, refusing milk and sugar, and wrapped her fingers around the heat. “My weakness, my problem.” She’d had practice.

“Huh.” Jim snorted. He rummaged through a bread box and loaded a plate with an assortment of pastries and rolls. “Come and sit in the conservatory. You look like you need warming up.”

“Like last night’s leftovers?”

Jim grinned. “You’ll do.”

The conservatory failed to live up to its grand name. It was a relaxed space off the kitchen. Someone had glassed in half the back veranda and filled it with potted ferns, orchids and white wicker furniture. Through the glass you could see a brilliant blue sky and closer at hand a backyard with a third of it graveled for parking and the rest divided into lawn and garden.

Fay chose a chair in the sunlight and sunk into it gratefully. She concentrated on her coffee and the heat of the sun. The muscle-eating chill of the portal gradually eased, taking with it the distressing shudders of weakness.

“Have a pastry.” Yolanthe pushed the plate towards Fay.

“I’m sorry. How long have I…?” She’d been sitting in a daze, ignoring these two virtual strangers. She’d let them see her weakness.

“About twenty minutes,” Yolanthe said.

“I’m a boring guest.” Politeness slipped on like a distancing armor.

Jim was having none of it. “You’re not a guest. You’re my stepdaughter. This is Yolly’s home, and yours.”

The definite claiming was outside Fay’s experience. She stared at him.

Yolanthe clasped his hand. “Thank you, darling.”

“Only telling the truth,” he grumbled. But his eyes were bright as he returned Yolanthe’s clasp. “Piper Lodge is a boardinghouse, Faith. We have four lodgers, all magic users. Daniel’s away on field work, and who knows where Piotr is, but you’ll meet Linda and Esse at dinner, tonight. I’ve fixed up your room with clean sheets, but I know Yolly will want to add special touches to it and you’ll probably have your own ideas. It’s at the top of the stairs.” He scowled. “And you’re not to pay board. You’re family.”

The avalanche of words stopped, and Fay was grateful for the break. “Thank you.” This alternate universe was confusing: no questions, no demands, just giving.

Jim’s scowl relaxed. “Good girl.”

Yolanthe punched his arm. “I told you I hate that phrase. It sounds like you’re talking to a dog.”

Fay studied their relaxed interaction, felt excluded by it and reached for a pastry sticky with honey and hazelnuts. It was delicious.

“A local bakery.” Yolanthe smiled at her. She seemed calmer and stronger in her own home. “Jim picks up a selection on his way home from his morning swim.”

“Are you that close to the ocean?”

“Almost on the beach,” he said.

“But close enough to walk into town,” Yolanthe said. “Or—Jim, do you still have your scooter?”

“The Wasp?” He grinned. “You wanted me to get rid of it.”

“Well, the way you ride, I thought you’d kill yourself. But Faith’s more sensible.”

“Ha,” he interrupted. “She arrived portal sick. That’s way more dangerous than my riding.”

“I heard what Constable Harrington said to you when he gave you your third ticket.”

Jim flushed and abandoned the argument.

Yolanthe turned back to Fay. “If you need to get around, Jim’s scooter is in the shed. He’ll dust it off for you.”

“Thank you, but—”

Her mom hadn’t finished. “When he learns the reasons for you travelling portal sick, he’ll apologize.”

“Reasons?” Jim sat forward.

“Faith has fought with Richard, quit the Collegium and abandoned her lover.”

“Holy cow,” he said reverently.

“I didn’t abandon Steve.”

“Is that his name?” Yolanthe was interested.

“And we weren’t lovers.”

“You are absolutely Yolly’s daughter.”

“What?” The two women stared at him, baffled.

“No half measures. It’s all or nothing. Life,” he said with satisfaction. “Is going to be interesting.”

“When I travelled to New York I hoped to convince you to visit one day. That you’re actually in the house, part of the family.” Yolanthe’s hands clenched. “I dreamed of this day, but I didn’t believe.”

Fay backed away from the emotion. She picked up her bag which Jim had left in a corner of the kitchen and swung it over her shoulder. Yolanthe was showing her to the guest room. “Do you have other children? Does Jim?”

“No. But even if we did, you’d be special, wanted.” Yolanthe caught her breath, cutting off the stream of words and emotion. They walked in silence along the hallway that cut through the middle of the house. Halfway along, the staircase rose, built of the same wood as the floor, rich and red, subtly gleaming.

“Jarrah.” Yolanthe patted the bannister. “It’s a local hardwood. Most of the old houses use it.”

“How old is the house?”

“A bit over a hundred years. It was built by a retired sea captain. His wife was the first porter here. The first European porter,” Yolanthe corrected conscientiously. “The Nyungar people probably knew of it.”

“Nyungar?”

“The local Aboriginal people. Their shamans have stories of journeys that resemble portal travel, but Jim hasn’t encountered any Aboriginal porters. Seems colonization disrupted the transfer of site knowledge.”

“Or else they’re staying secret, like Jim.”

“Jim’s independent, not secret. But you’re right. Aboriginal porters could be protecting their portals with silence.” Yolanthe paused at the top of the stairs. On the top floor, the house’s simple plan repeated itself with another corridor bisecting the house.

“Jim and my room is to the left. Opposite is Susie. Next to her is Paul.” She indicated the room opposite the stairs. “And beside him is Daniel, who is away at the moment. His room overlooks the backyard. So does Linda’s. She’s beside you. And here you are. Next to the stairs, I’m afraid, but we’re all quiet. You won’t even hear Susie slip out at night.”

She opened the door to Fay’s room. “I hope you’ll be comfortable. It’s not the biggest room.”

But it was a lovely one. Pale apple-green walls provided a backdrop for handcrafted wood furniture, while the starkness of white bedding and curtains was lightened by apple blossom pink cushions on the window seat and bed.

“I hope you’ll be happy.” Yolanthe paused in the doorway. “You probably need some time to yourself. If you need anything, Jim and I’ll be downstairs. Otherwise, lunch in an hour?”

“Thank you.”

“I am glad you’re here.” Yolanthe closed the door behind her.

Fay dropped her bag at the foot of the bed and explored the room and the private bathroom that continued the white and green color scheme. New soap and fresh towels waited. There was a bathmat patterned in green ducks on the tiled floor. A rummage in the cupboard revealed shampoo and conditioner.

“All the comforts of home.” The would-be flippancy rebounded as Fay recognized the truth. Yolanthe and Jim wanted her to feel at home. The room had been prepared with love, not expecting her to join them so soon, but hoping.

She sat in a comfortable armchair and pulled off her boots, putting them to one side before standing and shrugging off her coat. The polished floor was smooth and pleasantly cool under her bare feet. A breeze blew in the open window, warm and scented with honeysuckle. Fay inhaled. The salt tang reminded her of Piper Lodge’s proximity to the sea.

“A beachside holiday?” She tested the concept. How long since she’d had a holiday? The fact she couldn’t remember suggested it was a while. Since school, perhaps?

She slammed the door on thoughts of her father and the Collegium. “Live in the moment.” She needed this breathing space and she’d earned it with that shattering portal travel.

But if she stayed alone in her room, she’d brood. She jammed her dirty clothes into her bag and carried it all down to the laundry.

Yolanthe heard her footsteps, and popped her head out of the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

“I wondered if I could use the washing machine?”

“Of course.” Yolanthe came all the way out of the kitchen. She took laundry detergent from a cupboard, measured and added it to the machine, while Fay stuffed in her clothes. “Normal wash?”

“Yes. No stains, this time.”

“Ah.” There was a pause as Yolanthe clearly thought of and dismissed the stains Fay might acquire in her work. She pushed the start button. “It’ll take just over half an hour.” Still talking, she lead the way out of the laundry and closed the door behind them, shutting out the sound of the machine. “We don’t have a dryer. Fremantle has such sunny days. The clothes line is out here.”

She opened the back door and they went down the veranda steps and turned left. The clothes lines occupied a corner of the lawn. Honeysuckle grew over the side fence. A small black and white bird with a long tail chittered loudly and flirted across the adjacent herb garden.

“A willywagtail.” Yolanthe smiled. “Which is a ridiculous name, but apt.”

The bird landed on the fence and its coquettish tail dipped in proof of its name. Beyond the herb garden, a tidy vegetable patch was framed by a lemon tree and a fig tree losing its leaves in preparation for winter. The hum of slow city traffic sounded distant. It was as if a spell of drowsy contentment compelled the visitor to linger.

“How long have you lived here?”

“Seven years. Jim bought the Piper Lodge nine years ago. We met at an art auction and after we married I moved in with him. He couldn’t leave his portal.”

Fay nodded. Portal managers were self-appointed wardens with an added twist of devotion. Theirs was a difficult talent to unravel. A few inherited portals down ancient family lines, such as the descendants of a clerical family in Beijing. However, families like the Li were rare. Most porters spent a number of years unattached. They explored the space between the portals. When a portal manager died or through ill-health was compelled to relinquish his or her portal, competition to assume responsibility for it was strong. Porters willingly traded their freedom for the security of a personal portal.

The Collegium kept track of porters and their portals, occasionally doing deals to use this swift form of travel.

Fay hadn’t seen the Fremantle portal on any Collegium list. When added to Cynthia’s unrecorded New York portal, it suggested a shadow web of global travel, a world of magic beyond the Collegium. It was a world she’d have to discover, one where she’d have to build a place for herself, a life.

“I don’t know Jim’s full name.”

“James Hubert Smith. I took his name when I married, so I’m Yolanthe Smith.”

Fay followed Yolanthe down the narrow side path to the front of the house.

Red roses, carnations and a frangipani tree filled a narrow space between a low limestone wall and the veranda. Potted gardenias guarded the front steps. Either Yolanthe or Jim liked a perfumed garden. The street was narrow and old, built for walking and carts. Parked cars crowded it as it struggled to accommodate a modern world.

Yolanthe trotted up the front steps and sunk into a wide swing chair on the veranda. She patted the cushion beside her. “We have a few minutes before lunch. This is one of my favorite places, warm in the sun and watching the street. We have wonderful neighbors.”

The cushions were comfortable and the slight swing of the chair relaxing. But Fay couldn’t help the tension that invaded her, sitting close to this woman who was her mother.

“I’ll answer any questions you have, Faith. Anytime.” Yolanthe was tense, too, despite her cheerful hostess chatter. Her hands tightened around her hooked up knee. “Having you here is more than I deserve. It’s up to you to set the pace of our relationship, the parameters. Your father…” She shook her head. “You’ve been portal sick. Now’s not the time to talk seriously. But don’t think badly of Richard. He had reason to protect you from me.”

Fay shifted sharply.

“No! Not that I’d hurt you.” Yolanthe breathed deeply and continued in a quieter voice. “I had a breakdown when I learned Richard married me for my bloodline. I’d have run away with you if I could and I wasn’t in a state to be a fit mother. I drifted for years. Richard gave you stability.”

“He gave me the Collegium,” Fay said bitterly.

“Which he loved dearly. You could say he shared his most precious love with you.” Yolanthe’s voice was strained, striving for dispassion.

“Or that he sacrificed me to it.”

“Was it so bad?”

“I don’t know.” Fay stared at the tangled, sculptural branches of the frangipani tree. “The Collegium is all I’ve ever known. Developing my powers to serve it was my whole life. Dad cut away everything else. Without it, I don’t know who I am. If he ever really loved me.” She forced out the final words. “He used me. And you abandoned me.”

“Oh God, Faith.”

But Fay was locked tight in her own agony, unable to respond to her mother’s pain. Help came from another quarter.

“Yolanthe, get away from that woman. She’s evil!”