Patience (The Patience Trilogy Book 1)

the door, sat down and dropped something onto Patience’s lap. She picked it up and examined the crisp packet.

  “Thought I’d get you a little snack,” said Grim, “you mortals get hungry quicker than we do.”

  Patience widened her eyes. “What is this?”

  He waited until he had set off down the road before replying. “Well... it’s a packet of crisps, salt and vinegar flavour.”

  “Grim, you can’t just buy a teenage girl a packet of crisps,” she said.

  “Most people just say thank you.”

  “Do you know how many calories are in this thing? Girls my age are so obsessed with their weight that any amount of calories being thrown at them could lower their self-confidence into the ground.”

  “Are you worried?”

  Patience scowled. “No, but only because I already know I’m beautiful.”

  “I see.” The conversation seemed to end as the crisps hung in front of her. She dared not touch them in case Grim took it as an indicator that he was right. But he had truly been right about one thing, she was hungry. The crisps seemed to taunt her, crying out to be placed in her mouth, to quench the pains that were building up. Finally, she gave up and opened the packet.

  “Hey,” she groaned, “this is half empty.”

  Grim raised his hand. “Nah, you’re looking at it all wrong. It is actually half full, if you think about it.”

  “I hate you.”

  “See, positive attitudes can lead you in spectacular new directions.” Patience suppressed a smile, trying to keep with the moany teenage girl aesthetic.

  They pulled up outside an ordinary looking house that stood in the approximate location of the middle of nowhere. It seemed like a cul-de-sac of rundown buildings that the government had just accidentally forgotten about. If she was directing a horror movie, she would probably choose a street identical to this one, it had most of the clichés down.

  You’d think a person with magic would be able to learn a spell to fix windows, or at least use the magic of the phone- book to find someone else to do it for them.

  Grim stopped her before they climbed to the front door. “Okay, just a few things before we meet him,”

  he said, “so as I mentioned, my friend is a necromancer and will be able to use his ability of spirit walking to find out if your uncle is still alive. But a few warnings, he isn’t the happiest of people, in fact if you spend too much time around him then you would probably develop some form of depression.”

  “Then why are you friends with him?”

  “Well it’s just funny how someone can be so serious. I just laugh at him, but he’s used to it by now. I wouldn’t do it though if you can help it, he might take it personally.”

  “Why?”

  “Well he has his reasons for being a little gloomy. Oh, and don’t stare.”

  Patience grabbed Grim before he could move. “What’s his name?”

  “Dave.”

  “His name is Dave?”

  Grim lowered his eyes and looked as though she had just insulted his friend. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Well, it’s just that sorcerers seem to have cool names like Grim and Diabolus. I mean, what the hell, Dave?”

  He chuckled to himself. “I’m just messing. His name is Mortus.” He must have thought that Patience was satisfied with a more unusual name because he followed the stairs up to the front door.

  The door was tall and wooden, with a metal knocker in the shape of a skull. When Grim touched it he shied away, probably from the cold, before gripping it tightly and letting gravity pull it into contact with the door. There was a loud echo so that even Patience could make out the vibrations throughout the house, and then there was the clear sounds of large boots against wood before a dark shape appeared behind the misted glass of the door window. The door slowly opened, and Patience opened her mouth in shock before quickly returning to a neutral face.

  “Dave!”

  Mortus narrowed his eyes. “You said you were not going to call me that again.”

  “So I did.” They both paused to look at Patience, who was completely silent and looking as though she was in some kind of trance. Her eyes were fixed on Mortus and his unusual appearance.

  His skin was as white as a sheet of paper. His face was extremely gaunt with all the bones in his face not being hidden by the thin skin. At first she thought he was a skeleton, but he was too thick. However, there were scars all over his body, and open wounds on the base of his head.

  “Are you a vampire?” cried Patience, horrified.

  Grim held up his hand defensively as though that was an insult to his friend. “No, God no. Vampires are much worse. If you were trying to attach Mortus to some kind of fantasy creature, then he would be mostly akin to a zombie.”

  Mortus lay his head onto his palm. “I’m not a zombie, just a man who died and somehow came back from the dead.”

  “That means you’re a zombie,” argued Patience, “that is the exact definition of what a zombie is.”

  “I’m not a zombie.”

  Grim stepped forward. “Anyway, the point isn’t whether Mortus is a zombie or not – which he is. Right now we are more interested in his powers. Mortus is very unique actually in the way his powers work, because usually a necromancer would gain power off things that are dead. Possibly summoning spirits or hanging around corpses, but Mortus doesn’t need to do that as he is dead himself, so he can use himself as a power outlet.”

  “Like solar power?”

  “Kind of, and yet even this is dipping the boot into the realms of irrelevance.” He turned to Mortus.

  “Bernard has been kidnapped, we were wondering if you would be able to go into the spirit world and see if he is still alive.”

  Mortus thought for a moment. “Bernard’s been kidnapped? Damn. Alright, I don’t normally do this but I will make one exception, courtesy to a friend and all that.” He turned back into his house. “Just to be clear, the friend I was referring to was Bernard..... not you.” They followed him in.

  It was even more uninviting on the inside than the out. Lights flickered like candles, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Most of the wallpapers were bland and tearing off, and pictures that depicted death and destruction encrusted most of its surface.

  They turned off into a room which Patience assumed was the basement, and not surprisingly, it was dark down there. She climbed down the stairs and met with the other two who were already standing in the middle of the room. It was very empty, even when Mortus lit a candle and fitted it into the hanging chandelier above. She didn’t understand what they were doing here.

  “Okay,” said Mortus, “I need the two of you to be very quiet once I have entered the state, any disturbances could wake me, and then you will never find out what you need.” Grim nodded and Patience muttered a brief agreement. “Alright then, I will begin.”

  He knelt on the floor and bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes and placing the bottoms of his palms to the ground. For a moment he was still, but then his body suddenly became rigid as his muscles tensed and his face contorted with pain for a brief moment. It didn’t look comfortable at all. Ignoring his previous comment, Patience shuffled backwards away from him, an overwhelming sense that she was being watched flooding over her.

  She held back her gasp as the candle blew out and mist filled the room. Grim remained still, so she copied, praying that there was no real danger here. Voices seemed to be talking from within her head like small creatures living inside her. She wondered if they were ghosts, the spirits of the deceased floating around her. It must be extraordinary to be spirit walking like Mortus, he could actually see the spirits as they passed over to the other side. Scary. But fascinating.

  The voices stopped chattering and the mist drifted into an empty space before fading completely into nothingness. Mortus opened his eyes, though Patience couldn’t read them. Was Bernard alive? Or had Mortus seen him passing over?
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  Grim looked serious. “What did you see?”

  He paused a moment before talking as though he was gathering his thoughts. It must be quite disorientating returning to the mortal world like that. A lot of different conditions to get used to.

  “He is alive,” he said finally, “or at least his spirit hasn’t passed through.”

  “Thank God,” said Patience, relief spreading over her. Maybe there was still a chance of saving him.

  “But that’s not all,” he said, standing up and facing Grim, though his eyes kept glancing nervously at Patience, “I asked around to see if anyone knew anything about it, and there was a man who had recently crossed over.”

  “What did he say?” said Grim.

  “There is a sorcerer called Mr Big who has sent out a contract for Patience. I expect that he is the same man who abducted Bernard, he seemed quite annoyed about his master murdering him with that necklace.”

  Patience tried to speak, but her mouth had gone exceptionally dry, so, Grim spoke up instead.

  “This is troubling. Why is her family being targeted like this?”

  “I’m not sure. Either way, you have to be careful. Apparently he alerted everyone, the top assassins to the craziest thugs, everyone will be after you.” Her hands were shaking by her side. All of a sudden this beautiful and magical world that she had just been dragged into was suddenly deciding to rear its ugly head. It lured her in with a false sense of majesty, and now it was going to hook her like a fish and beat her to death. Maybe she was being a little graphic. Not