Shadow Web Page 7

  “Ochre jelly? Beholder?” Tad said, squinting. He shifted and said, “Just who was in your party, Tarvish?”

  “Well, there was the magic user—she summoned me. And Snarleth the Vile—the mage—is pretty high level. They have two fighters—Dwarb and Dweeb—and the cleric’s name is Ulantrum. They also have a druid, but Aeleath is a coward and he always hides in the back. Now, I know druids don’t generally lead the party but in this case, he’s high-enough level—I think tenth—that it’s appalling how he sneaks around behind the rest of them. His intelligence is high enough, and he has enough hit points, so he shouldn’t be such a coward.”

  As Tarvish rambled on, I groaned. I glanced at Tad. Both of us knew immediately what was going on. I cleared my throat and stood up.

  “Excuse us for a moment, would you, Tarvish?”

  “Of course. I’ll start another puzzle.” He flipped the page and began working on another crossword as we headed back out of the room.

  As soon as we hit the living room, I whirled to Tad. “Dungeons and Dragons. I played for a while, but Ellison hated it and so I stopped when we started dating.”

  Tad nodded. “Yep, everything he said is straight out of a game. Hold on, let me do a quick search.” His fingers flew over the keyboard.

  “D&D? Really?” Caitlin said. “How…what do you think happened?”

  “I’m not sure. Tarvish insists that I summoned him…”

  “Bingo. Online forum dedicated to old-school D&D players,” Tad said. “Here’s one group in Oklahoma, the Mirewood Guild—they uploaded a mod to the forum titled ‘Winter Solstice Rites.’ I searched on ‘Funtime Demon’… The mod includes the maps for the game, the list of creatures, including a special NPC created for the game, and his name is Tarvish.”

  “NPC?” Teran asked.

  “Non-player character,” I said. “An NPC is a character the dungeon master plays, one that interacts with the group of players, quite often in a positive manner. So, Tarvish isn’t a demon—he’s…what the hell is he, then?”

  “Did you by chance download this mod? Even accidentally?” Tad asked.

  I thought back to all the sites I had been looking at for information about winter solstice rituals. “Oh, fuck me hard,” I said.

  “I’ll leave that to Killian.” Tad snorted. “I take it you did?”

  “The Witches Guild put me in charge of researching winter solstice rituals, to prepare for the upcoming town solstice celebration. I did a mega search and started downloading what I thought were rituals from throughout history. I was so scattered and focused on the court appearance—I’ll tell you about that later—that I didn’t even notice what sites I was on. Then my laptop cord began to melt while I was downloading one mega zip file and…something must have happened.”

  I sank down on the sofa. “How the hell did he come to life, though? If he’s out of a game…”

  “Let me do a quick search on the players’ LifeBook pages.” Tad tapped away on his computer. “All right, I found a couple of them. The magic user, in actuality, is a witch named Kyler. Kyler Fenton. And Kyler…hmm…it’s hard to tell from here, but I think Kyler’s element is on the astral. I’ll bet you the group has enough psychic power that they created a thought-form of sorts, and that energy went into the description of the character.”

  “So, in essence, they created Tarvish in more ways than one. But it’s just a game…”

  “But they focused so much on this character that he’s become real. That happens at times. Somewhere out there, in a dimension not too far away, Bella and Edward-the-Shiny actually exist, thanks to Stephenie Meyer’s fans.” Tad frowned. “The question is, what the hell do you do with your version of Tarvish?”

  “You mean there’s more than one?” Teran asked.

  Tad nodded. “I have a feeling there are enough Tarvish-like creatures running around that they could form their own boy-band. The module has been downloaded fifteen times.”

  “Well,” I said. “At least he doesn’t seem destructive.”

  “No, but you can’t let him run around free. He may not seem too startled by your kitchen, but I doubt he’d have a clue on what to do if he was let run around loose.” Tad gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but you’ll need to keep him here until we figure out what to do with him.”

  I stared at him. “But I don’t want to keep him here. I don’t want an uninvited guest for Thanksgiving dinner. And I sure as hell am not going to hang up a stocking for him.” I wasn’t worried that he’d eat the cats or terrorize my house—the D&D club who created him seemed to have built in some fun little quirks that took the edge off of his “evil”…but he was still a demon, at least on paper.

  “I’m afraid you have no other choice. Also, you have a bigger house than the rest of us,” Tad said.

  “Room or not…” I paused. “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” I turned to my grandmother, my shoulders slumping. “Do you have a clue on how I can get rid of him? You’ve got more experience than all of us put together.”

  Rowan sat on the sofa, shaking her head. “Thought-forms are notoriously difficult to get rid of, and there are a lot of them in the world. You should see what happens to writers who get so hooked into their characters—they’ll often have a whole troop of characters hanging out in their houses, and sometimes, they won’t even notice it. I think that, in Tarvish’s case, the dungeon master who created him is so proud of him and so into the game that they’re keeping the demon alive from a distance. In fact, if it was the witch playing the mage who created this creature, my guess is that she knows full well she’s brought the demon to life. And I think she intended to.”

  “Budding chaos magician?” I asked.

  “Maybe, but one of the things I’ve found is that young witches—especially ones who are gifted—tend to be arrogant and they bite off more than they should.” Rowan leaned forward. “I think she decided to see what she could manage and it got out of hand.”

  “What do we do about it?” I asked.

  “I’ll do some research and see what I can find. Meanwhile, don’t fret. I’ll take Tarvish home with me where I can keep an eye on him. Why don’t you go fetch him?” She stood up, brushing out her skirt. “Tad, get me the names—the real-life names—of the members of that D&D group. I intend to put in a call to them and find out who’s mentoring that witch. Whoever it is needs to know what a mess their acolyte has made.”

  Relieved, I went into the kitchen. Tarvish looked up. “My grandmother would like you to stay with her. She has more room than I do. We’re trying to figure out how to send you back to your…friends—your dungeon party. I didn’t deliberately bring you here. It was a…” How was I going to explain this to a thought-form? “I was casting a spell and something went haywire.”

  “I was wondering about that,” Tarvish said, standing up. “You don’t seem to have an orc problem here, and that’s mostly what I take care of.”

  “Right,” I said. “No orcs. So follow me, please.” I led him back into the living room. “Tarvish, this is Rowan, my grandmother. She’ll take you home with her. Please be nice.”

  He eyed her carefully. “You’re a powerful witch, aren’t you?”

  She gave him a guarded nod. “Yes, why?”

  “I can feel the energy rolling off of you.” He held up the crossword puzzle book. “May I take this?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Keep it and the pen.”

  As they headed for the door, he asked her, “Do you have any cats? I love cats.”

  Rowan chuckled. “I might find a few for you.” She opened the door and stood back for him to leave first.

  Tarvish moved toward the door, then stopped. He tried to exit again, but looked like he was running into a force field as he tried to push out the door. He turned around, sounding flustered. “I’m sorry, but I’m having a hard time. It feels like there’s an invisible wall across the door.”

  I groaned. “Try the back door.”

  We
all headed to the kitchen again, where Tarvish tried to step out onto the porch, to no avail. It looked like Tarvish wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon.

  “I’m terribly embarrassed,” he said. “I’m not faking it.”

  “We know you’re not,” I said. I turned to Rowan. “So, what now, given he doesn’t seem to be headed anywhere?”

  “I guess you have a house guest,” Rowan said. When I started to protest, she shrugged. “What do you want me to do? I can’t try to drag him out—he’d get hurt and that wouldn’t be good for any of us.” She gave me a meaningful look.

  “Right,” I said, backing off. “Okay, Tarvish, for some reason, you seem to be stuck here. Let me show you to the guest room. Actually, give me a moment to spiffy it up for you.” I grabbed my grandmother’s elbow and dragged her toward the stairs. When we were out of earshot, near the bottom of the stairs, I said, “I can’t believe this. What am I going to tell Killian? Hell, what the hell am I going to do with him? Tarvish, that is.”

  “You could tell him we’re a little like the Addams family and that Tarvish is a long-lost cousin,” Rowan said with a laugh. “Just tell him the truth.”

  “The truth sounds absolutely insane. Oh by the way, dear, I downloaded a demon from the web yesterday. He likes kittens and puzzles and chasing orcs, and oh, by the way, he’s not real—he’s a thought-form come to life and he can’t leave my house.”

  “Truth is often stranger than fiction. He may not like it, but Killian’s a smart man and he’ll understand what happened.” She paused, then added, “I’m happy you’ve found someone who’s a good person. I watched you with Ellison from a distance, and though I couldn’t talk to you back then, I dreaded what I foresaw coming. I could tell what kind of a man he was from the beginning.”

  “I wish you had said something.”

  “Ah, but you had no clue who I was. And you were young and in love. Would you have listened to me?” Rowan opened the guest room door and glanced at the beautiful comforter that I had spread over the bed. “Get a utilitarian blanket. Tarvish may not be a real demon, but my guess is he’s not the most graceful person on the planet and you don’t want him messing up your nice linens.”

  I stopped at the linen closet in the hallway and pulled out a large, red knit blanket. “Good idea.” I also grabbed a set of old sheets out of the linen closet. As polite as Tarvish seemed, I wasn’t letting any Funtime demon sleep on the 500-count Egyptian cotton set currently on the bed. “I keep an old set for camping, or in case I want to lie on the ground outside.”

  We stripped the bed and remade it, then folded up the clean linens and tucked them away. After we finished, I turned to my grandmother. “I hope you realize how happy I am that you’re in my life. I was taken by surprise at first, but…I’m glad you’re my grandmother. I feel like I still have family. I know, there’s Aunt Teran, but I never had any brothers or sisters, and with my parents gone and my cousins spread out, it feels like… Like I’m on my own, you know?”

  She regarded me silently for a moment, then gave me an uncharacteristic squeeze. Rowan wasn’t very touchy-feely and she didn’t talk much about family matters. “You’re a good granddaughter. I wish I could have told your father I was his mother, but it was safer for him. There are still parts of my past that you know nothing about, and when—if it becomes necessary, I’ll tell you, but…for now, let it be.”

  I wondered what she was hiding. But I knew Rowan enough to know that if she wanted to hide something, nothing in the world was going to pull it out of her. With that, we went back downstairs to lead Tarvish up to his room.

  Chapter Eight

  Once Tarvish was settled with his crossword puzzle book and a plateful of cookies, I returned downstairs. Rowan and Tad were in a debate about how thought-forms worked, and Caitlin was talking to Teran about differing methods of making pumpkin pie. I was about to break up the conversation when the doorbell rang.

  “When it rains, it pours,” I said. I opened the door and gasped. There, in front of me, was a very tall man with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and his eyes were hazel brown and twinkling. “Rameer! What are you doing here?” Instinctively, I reached out to hug him.

  Rameer laughed and gave me a peck on the cheek, then followed me back into the house, where all conversation stopped.

  “Rameer, my man! You’re back!” Tad reached out his hand.

  Rameer shook his hand, then gave a friendly nod to Caitlin, Rowan, and Teran. He had met them during the time he had stayed with me. Rameer was a djinn, whom Ari and I had summoned in a drunken spell for my birthday the year before. I hadn’t realized until later that I had claimed three wishes off of him, but the whole affair had been a chaotic mess until we managed to sort everything out. I had subsequently helped free him to go back to his own realm—the realm of fire—and in September, I had received a postcard from him. He was back in our realm, this time on vacation.

  “Sit down. Last I remember, you were on vacation?” I asked, tugging on his hand.

  He laughed. “Slow down, woman. Yes, I’m finishing up a long vacation. I visited all over, and I’m on my way home after I leave here, but I couldn’t go without dropping in to say hello to the woman who helped me find my bottle and set me free.”

  “Where have you been traveling?” I said. “I got your postcards from Iceland and from Finland, but you’ve covered a lot of terrain since then, I bet.”

  Rameer looked around. “You’ve redecorated. Renovated, even.” He sat down in the recliner. He was incredibly tall, and incredibly handsome in that roguish sort of way. “I mostly covered the northern European countries. I’ve never been there and I was curious what it was like, especially going into the winter months. I traveled like mortals—via the train, mostly, so I could experience the scenery. It was incredible and I have a warehouse of memories tucked away.” He paused, then added, “Oh, I brought you a present from Iceland!” He opened his backpack and pulled out a gift-wrapped box about the size of a bracelet and handed it to me.

  I unwrapped it, wondering what he could have found for me. Inside was a smooth leather box with a hinged lid. I opened it to find a pen lying there. The barrel was made out of a dark wood—black—but it didn’t look painted. As I picked it up, a tingle ran through my fingers.

  “This is beautiful, Rameer. Thank you.” I paused, disconcerted by the tingles that reverberated through my fingers and hand. “This is magical, isn’t it?”

  He beamed. “Yes, I got it from a witch who makes them. He got the wood from the elves who live on the island. It’s bog oak—and the wood is over four thousand years old.”

  I examined the pen. It was a beautiful work of art, turned perfectly, and the bronze metal fittings were well placed, making it look like an elegant antique. Of course, given the age of the wood, the pen was old—ancient, in fact. I handed it to my grandmother. “Feel this.”

  Rowan’s eyes widened as she took hold of it. “This has magic, indeed. My guess is the witch who fashioned it has at least as much power as I do.”

  Rameer glanced at her and I remembered he had never met Rowan. “Rameer, this is my grandmother, Rowan Firesong. Rowan, remember, I told you about Rameer?”

  She held out her hand and he shook it. “I do remember. Well-met, Master Rameer.”

  He inclined his head. “Mistress Firesong. And yes, the witch who made this is very powerful and he works with the element of water. He can charm the elementals into bringing him the best wood from the bogs. He routinely travels along the peat bog line every few years to gather more wood, which he turns into pens and wands and walking sticks.”

  There was a noise from the stairs and I jumped as Tarvish appeared. He stared at Rameer, knitting his brow, which, with all the lumps on it, looked terribly strange.

  “What manner of creature are you?” he asked.

  I grabbed Rameer’s arm, warning him not to answer. “This is a friend of mine, Tarvish. He’s in town for a brief time. What did you need?”
<
br />   Tarvish glanced at Rameer again, then shrugged and said, “I was wondering if you have any cocoa.”

  Caitlin jumped up. “I’ll bring you some. Go back up to your room, and I’ll bring you hot cocoa in a few minutes.”

  “With marshmallows?” Tarvish asked.

  “I’ll see if January has any.”

  And with that, Tarvish turned and headed back up the steps.

  Caitlin turned to me. “You have any marshmallows?”

  “Of course. In the cupboard where I keep the chips.” I turned to Rameer. “I seem to have a problem.”

  “It looks like it. What’s going on?” Rameer glanced at the stairs.

  I explained what had happened. “I’m pretty certain that he’d recognize the term ‘djinn’ and make a beeline for you, given in D&D, djinns can be very chaotic and problematic.”

  “Our reputations got trashed by that game,” Rameer said. “However, it’s also somewhat true. We can be a pain in the ass when we want to be.” He glanced at the clock. “I wish I could stay but I’m headed home. I wish I could fix your demon problem for you, but I think I would end up making it worse.” He stood and gave me a hug. “Take care of yourself, witchy woman. I’ll come back and visit again as soon as I can.”

  And with that, he bade farewell to everyone else. Without another word, he picked up his backpack and vanished from sight.

  “Wait—I need to know about the pen,” I said, but I was too late. I sat down, frowning. “He lights up a room, doesn’t he?”

  Tad spoke up. “I appreciate the help he gave Conjure Ink. Thanks to you, we have the only bonafide pictures of a djinn.”

  My interview with Rameer had resulted in Conjure Ink having the only verifiable interview and photographs of an actual djinn. Rameer had agreed to meet with Professor Jamil Madison, a worldwide expert on Crypto species, and he had authenticated Rameer’s status. I had put Conjure Web in the history books for that.