{"id":5236,"date":"2026-01-04T01:13:54","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:13:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-painter-mage-01-shifted-agony-holmberg-d-k\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T01:13:54","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:13:54","slug":"the-painter-mage-01-shifted-agony-holmberg-d-k","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-painter-mage-01-shifted-agony-holmberg-d-k\/","title":{"rendered":"The Painter Mage 01 – Shifted Agony – Holmberg, D K"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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I<\/span><\/span>n retrospect<\/span>, I think it was the drawing that summoned me. Given the way life had gone to that point, I shouldn\u2019t have been surprised. I\u2019m a painter, but not like the kind you can find in art museums and galleries, and somewhere above your average house painter in skill. I can use color and shapes and patterns to infuse them with power. In that, I\u2019m more like a wizard than anything, except I don\u2019t have any spells or incantations. Sometimes I wished I did; it might be easier than working the magic I command.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d only been back in Conlin a few months, hoping to learn enough to keep a friend alive, when I felt the power of the drawing. For me to detect it meant serious power was used. Sitting cross-legged in my living room working with a new colored ink, enjoying quiet and peace and the fact that no one tried to kill me, I felt it thrumming against my senses, like an aching tooth. Since my return, I feared discovery. It had been hard enough breaking away as it was. Now that I\u2019d returned to my childhood home\u2014a place where I should <\/i>have been safe\u2014I thought my friend Devan and I had several more months before we were discovered, not the barely two months it had been.<\/p>\n

Power drew me to the park abutting my house. The park in Conlin was a wide expanse of wooded lawn surrounded by a high river rock wall, the last remnants of a different era when the park needed to be protected. Paver stones led to a central plaza where an enormous water fountain sculpture occupied most of a clearing. Spartan cement benches were set around it. A soft burbling came from the water fountain and the air still carried the charge of the recent storm.<\/p>\n

I found her sitting alone in the middle of it all. <\/p>\n

She had her legs crossed over each other like she was in meditation, eyes closed with her petite chin tilted toward the center of the plaza where the fountain resembled a demonic creature. The girl\u2019s jet-black hair hung past her shoulders and caught the occasional gust, the dying remnants of the storm from earlier, and framed her olive face. She was beautiful and exotic and clearly didn\u2019t belong in Conlin. She sat, sketching quietly. The sketch must have been what drew me here. At least she wasn\u2019t what I feared. <\/p>\n

I still considered turning back. I knew where she came from. I didn\u2019t fear her but still didn\u2019t want anything to do with them. And, as far as I knew, they <\/i>wanted nothing to do with me. Or they hadn\u2019t. For her to be here meant something had changed. <\/p>\n

Instead of turning back and heading home, I hesitated at the edge of the plaza. Enormous oaks ringed it, their leaves dripping from the recent rain and obscuring the rest of the city, even filtering the noise of traffic along the street. Aromatic pine trees dotted the park, so common around Conlin, their long, brown needles leaving soft trails through the woods. <\/p>\n

I dragged my foot through the dirt, parting the needles as I went, working up against the gray stones that made up the plaza and moving slowly to avoid her notice as I formed my protective circle. Not a true painting, but creating this shape didn\u2019t require much power from me, barely more than the lightest touch. After I completed the circle, a soft pop<\/i> of electricity worked over my skin, little more than a static shock. <\/p>\n

\u201cAre you finished?\u201d She opened her eyes and spoke without facing me. <\/p>\n

She\u2019d sensed me. Or my power. Either should have warned me more than it did. <\/p>\n

I stepped across the threshold of the circle, careful not to disrupt it. A simple shape, one of the earliest a painter learns to create, but in a place like this, even the circle was difficult. Too much power worked through the park as it was. It was the reason I dared returning home. Whatever I added now should barely register. <\/p>\n

\u201cWho are you?\u201d I asked, careful to keep my distance. <\/p>\n

She pushed herself to her feet and I noticed the wide sketchpad she held in one hand. Her other clutched two thick pencils. My eyes caught some details of the dark sketch she\u2019d been working on. I saw only glimpses, but enough to tell me that she had skill.<\/p>\n

A relieved smile parted her lips. \u201cYou\u2019re him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I frowned and kept my legs separated slightly. The stance held power of its own that I could augment. A small sachet of red-colored ink was hidden in my palm. If needed, I could splash a quick pattern, enough to protect myself. That is, unless she was an artist. Despite what I saw of the notepad, I still couldn\u2019t tell.<\/p>\n

Artists were painters like me: able to use shapes and colors and patterns to draw power. True artists were rare. Me, I\u2019m the kind of painter known as a tagger. I can pull power\u2014and quickly\u2014but nothing like what an artist could achieve. Taggers were still not common, but more so than artists.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re Escher Morris.\u201d<\/p>\n

If I had any question about where she came from, the fact that she knew my name answered it. A gift from my disappeared father\u2014not dead, though I might be the only one who believed that\u2014he named me Escher as a nod to the old Dutch artist. Mother never loved the name, but like with so much else, she wouldn\u2019t go against him. Instead, she gave me her father\u2019s name as a middle name. It\u2019s what I preferred.<\/p>\n

\u201cOliver,\u201d I said, squeezing the ink in my hand a little more tightly. \u201cAnd you are?\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman turned slowly, eyes scanning the edge of the trees, before working back to fix me with a flat, gray-eyed stare. The wind gusted again and she jumped slightly before answering. \u201cTaylor.\u201d<\/p>\n

I made a point of walking along the edge of the stone plaza, keeping both Taylor and the statue at the edge of my vision as I circled around. At this time of night, no one else came to the park. That Taylor had been here at all shouldn\u2019t have surprised me\u2014if she was an artist, no gate would keep her out\u2014but artists generally feared the night, even one as calm and clear as tonight. And usually for good reason.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you know about this place?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

She gave the statue a wide berth as she came toward me. The thing looked less like the mixture of wolf and man some claimed it to be and more like the demon I saw in it. Agony of the Chase, it was called. A famous statue\u2014well, as famous as they get in Conlin\u2014and placed here by my father. I still didn\u2019t know why.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t deny it?\u201d Taylor asked.<\/p>\n

I shrugged. \u201cWould it matter if I did? Seems you already know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHard said\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

I stiffened at the mention of his name and glared at her. \u201cIf Hard sent you, I\u2019m not interested.\u201d I started to turn away. She might have triggered me coming to the park, but there wasn\u2019t much she could say to convince me to remain. <\/p>\n

She stopped in front of me, blocking my path. She dragged her feet as she went, leaving a faintly shimmering trail along the damp stones. Power I hadn\u2019t noticed radiated from the irregular triangle she formed.<\/p>\n

Damn. She was good. <\/p>\n

Most in Arcanus never learned to be subtle with their power, especially artists. They preferred using paper or canvas for their work, never thinking of using the larger canvas available in the world. Taylor did. <\/p>\n

Arcanus was a place to study the power painters could wield, but more than that, it was a place of safety. Hidden and buried deep in the Rockies, no one other than painters went to Arcanus. Some left, though they were mostly taggers like myself. Artists never left. They stayed, presumably to study, but the real reason was what they feared would happen if they left. <\/p>\n

I met her eyes. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d I could leave her here, but it was night and she wouldn\u2019t have any other place to safely go, not without risking herself. She knew that, which was at least part of the reason she\u2019d come here. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d She waved the hand holding the pencils toward the sculpture. <\/p>\n

Like her, I pulled my foot through the rainwater as I slid toward the sculpture, leaving a slight trail as I did. I wondered if she recognized the pattern I made, if not the intent. Combined with the circle I\u2019d made outside the plaza, I added interlocking angles, distorted in such a way to confuse the eye. Arcane patterns. With it, I could hold her in place and buy myself enough time to get away. The rainwater would be transient but should hold in the stone well enough, especially if I pressed enough intent into it.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s called Agony of the Chase.\u201d I dipped a hint of red powder into the pattern as I went. It was the only color I had with me, but would work well for what I had intended. With painting, color mattered, as did intent and the patterns used. <\/p>\n

She flipped her hair back and stared at the bronzed plate set in the stone in front of the statue. The surface of the plate was completely smooth, as if time had weathered away whatever had once been written there. \u201cA bit melodramatic of a title, don\u2019t you think? You might as well call it Big Scary Manwolf,\u201d she said as she kneeled before the plate. Her fingers lingered as she dragged them over the surface. <\/p>\n

The comment caught me off guard and I laughed. \u201cThat\u2019s not really how he preferred to name his sculptures\u2026\u201d I trailed off as I saw the dark blue powder dusting her fingers. I wondered what she planned. Blue had its uses\u2014not as many as red or black when it came to defending yourself\u2014but if she was an artist, I couldn\u2019t put much past her.<\/p>\n

I stopped moving, cupping the satchel of powder. With a practiced flick of my wrist, I could send out a pretty good circle of ink and quickly infuse it with energy to do some damage. Not as neat as what I could do given more time, but effective. Normally I\u2019d worry about who else might be around me, but the circle I\u2019d created around the edge of the trees would contain any extra energy. And I didn\u2019t have to worry about Agony; as far as I knew, nothing could destroy it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou didn\u2019t come to look at the local artwork, so why are you here, Taylor?\u201d I asked carefully.<\/p>\n

She gave me a forced smile. Her eyes didn\u2019t change or soften, but she shifted, sliding her hands into her pockets. When she pulled them out, the pencils\u2014and the hint of blue powder\u2014were gone. <\/p>\n

\u201cI need help.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Hard sent you to me?\u201d Considering what happened the last time we saw each other, that seemed unlikely. Like his assumed name, he was a bastard, but he was a skilled bastard. An artist, in the truest sense of the word. Had he <\/i>come, there would be different questions, but he never ventured outside the safety of Arcanus. As long as I didn\u2019t get too close to him, I\u2019d be fine.<\/p>\n

She followed me to a rain-soaked bench. \u201cI found something in the library. I\u2026\u201d She hesitated and pulled something out of a deep pocket, flashing the cover of a leather-bound book toward me. \u201cI hoped you might have some way to decipher it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I glanced at the book. The library in Arcanus had a massive collection. How many of those books had notes written by my father in the years he\u2019d been there? How many would help me with my <\/i>work? Since leaving Arcanus\u2014well, since I was expelled\u2014I didn\u2019t have access to the same quality of work. It didn\u2019t mean my studies ended, only that I no longer learned from books. I\u2019d had different and far deadlier tutors. I had hoped some of that would end now that I had returned to Conlin. Here, I might be stuck using whatever texts I could find among my father\u2019s old belongings, but at least I didn\u2019t risk death with everything I did. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s in the book?\u201d I asked. <\/p>\n

She flipped open the first few pages and showed me. Intricate shapes streaked across the page, looking more like an ancient language than any kind of pattern. I\u2019d seen similar shapes before. And if Taylor worked with Hard in Arcanus, she had, too. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou recognize them,\u201d she said. <\/p>\n

I nodded. No use denying it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you\u2026\u201d Her head swiveled slowly, as if studying the trees, or trying to look past <\/i>the trees and into Conlin. It was a bedroom city, the streets filled with brick and wood homes, most decades old. Most were well kept. There was pride in Conlin, but there wasn\u2019t much else here, other than the park. \u201cHave you found anything to decipher them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould I tell you if I had? Would I let him <\/i>know if I had?\u201d I took a steadying breath, getting control of my voice. It had been years since I\u2019d seen Hard, but the mention of his name still angered me. It was partly because of him that I left Arcanus. He might not have been the one to banish me, but he\u2019d been the reason the process had started. And Hard could have stopped it at any time, but didn\u2019t. <\/p>\n

Her hand dipped back into her pocket. I wondered what color powder she palmed. I dragged my eyes away from her pocket, wishing I hadn\u2019t come. I wanted nothing of Arcanus business. Since leaving, I\u2019d discovered lessons the Masters there would never have been able to teach. Given what they feared, why should the Masters in Arcanus care what I researched? They all thought my father dead, destroyed by his own arrogance. Funny they <\/i>should consider him arrogant. <\/p>\n

Besides, I had a new life since leaving Arcanus. I\u2019d learned things about patterns and colors that I could never learn there, things the Masters refused to teach. Of course, I\u2019d nearly died a dozen times acquiring that knowledge.<\/p>\n

I tipped my head toward the book she\u2019d pocketed when she went for her powder. \u201cIf you\u2019re here, it\u2019s because he sent you.\u201d I stood and wiped my hands on my pants. \u201cHard wouldn\u2019t have shown you those patterns if he didn\u2019t think you could help. And he wouldn\u2019t have let you out of Arcanus with that book if he didn\u2019t think you could learn something.\u201d<\/p>\n

She shot me a look that bordered on pouty. For the first time, I wondered how old she was. I thought with her hardened eyes and the soft curves, she had to have been in her twenties. Now I wasn\u2019t so sure. I didn\u2019t remember a Taylor from my time in Arcanus, but that didn\u2019t mean she couldn\u2019t have been there. Or maybe they\u2019d found her. Painters were discovered all the time and brought to Arcanus to study, all searching for the next artist. <\/p>\n

Soft white lights flickered on from the three lanterns circling the plaza holding Agony. Taylor\u2019s head jerked around at the sudden change in lighting. I smiled. Likely she felt the power I surged through the bulbs as well.<\/p>\n

The sculpture might be my father\u2019s, created for reasons I hadn\u2019t discovered, but the protections around this park, protections I had placed since returning to keep people like Taylor out, were all mine. I might not be an artist, but in spite of what Hard and the others in Arcanus believed, I was more than a simple tagger. <\/p>\n

More lights flickered on in the park, each adding to the pattern. Night could be dangerous for an artist\u2014even for a tagger, though we generally had less to worry about than artists did\u2014and the lights did more than brighten up the park. They kept it clear of them. <\/p>\n

\u201cThis is your <\/i>work,\u201d Taylor said.<\/p>\n

\u201cSome of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s\u2026\u201d She seemed to struggle for the right word. \u201cIt\u2019s powerful. Does it work?\u201d she asked, intensity burning in her eyes. <\/p>\n

It hadn\u2019t been tested before. Hopefully it wouldn\u2019t be tested tonight. \u201cWell enough.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about the\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

She didn\u2019t finish, but since she studied in Arcanus, she didn\u2019t have to. <\/p>\n

There was a reason painters stayed in Arcanus once their abilities manifested. In Arcanus, they called them hunters. Creatures that came in the night, drawing on artists, feeding on their power. Vampires, if you ask me, only no one did. They\u2019d never been seen, not even by the Masters, but stories of painters falling to them made all fear them. Boogeymen who only came out at night, their haunting howls the only warning. Those who left Arcanus lived with the fear that the hunters would come for them. <\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why you never returned,\u201d Taylor said. <\/p>\n

She shifted nervously and another gust of wind fluttered through. As it did, I noticed the blue streaks deeper in her hair. I studied her eyes, saw the drawn expression on her face that belied the confident way she questioned me. Something wasn\u2019t quite right. <\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t fear the night the same as I had when I first left Arcanus. I\u2019d seen too much since then. Not hunters. As far as I knew, they were nothing more than superstition, but there were other creatures of power, other reasons for me to place protections around the park. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat aren\u2019t you telling me, Taylor?\u201d <\/p>\n

She bit her lower lip, again looking like a younger version of herself, and pushed blue-stained fingers through her hair. Did she know how that augmented her power? Was she not<\/i> an artist as I first believed? But for Hard to have shown her the book, she had to be. <\/p>\n

Unless Hard hadn\u2019t. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou found another book,\u201d I realized. \u201cThat\u2019s why you came.\u201d<\/p>\n

I crossed the distance separating us too quickly for her to react. Doing so disrupted the pattern I\u2019d been creating, but I didn\u2019t care about that, not now. I slipped my hand into her pocket and grabbed as she protested, trying to push me away. The force from her ink-stained hand almost managed it, but I kept my feet set wide, the placement practiced, as I did. <\/p>\n

The book looked much like the other I\u2019d seen. The cover was different, a darker leather with a strange grain to it, but inside resembled the one I\u2019d taken from Hard, the one my father had intended for me. I flipped through the pages, ignoring Taylor as I did, eyes scanning the shapes for patterns, translating those I recognized, as I searched for anything that might help. <\/p>\n

As I studied the book, I ignored the buildup of energy. I shouldn\u2019t have.<\/p>\n

A burst of force struck me in the chest, knocking me down. The book went flying from my hands. I rolled, the breath knocked out of me, reaching for a handful of powdered ink and readying my attack. <\/p>\n

Could Taylor have attacked me like that? I didn\u2019t think anyone in Arcanus learned enough offensive magic to matter. They focused on defense. On hiding. <\/p>\n

Taylor screamed. The wind caught her voice. <\/p>\n

Not her then.<\/p>\n

I stumbled to my feet. Only then did I realize the lanterns around the plaza had gone out. <\/p>\n

Shit. The lanterns had taken nearly a week to construct. Enough power had gone into them that they shouldn\u2019t simply go out like that. That they did told me that whatever came was powerful.<\/p>\n

I grabbed a fistful of powder and dumped half in the other hand. With a flick of my wrist, I scattered powdered maroon ink in a quick circle, closing Taylor in with me. If I was wrong\u2014if she <\/i>had been the one to attack\u2014then I was making more trouble for myself. <\/p>\n

\u201cAre they here?\u201d There was an edge of panic in her voice that had replaced the calm. <\/p>\n

Within the circle, her voice seemed overly loud, but I didn\u2019t think it wouldn\u2019t carry beyond the edge of the circle. \u201cQuiet,\u201d I hissed.<\/p>\n

She looked over, her eyes wide. \u201cIs it the hunters? I haven\u2019t seen any sign of them in my time out of Arcanus. I thought I was safe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now I knew she wasn\u2019t the one to attack me. As much as the hunters might frighten her, this kind of attack wasn\u2019t from them either.<\/p>\n

But there were other magical creatures. More than even the Masters in Arcanus cared to admit. The thing was, from what I\u2019d seen of the protections my father had set around the town, Conlin was protected from them too, so I should <\/i>be safe here. So what had changed? <\/p>\n

Something she said caught my attention. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d<\/p>\n

She spun in a circle, dragging her foot slowly around her. A blue flash appeared on the stone. If I let her complete it, she might destroy the defense I\u2019d created. <\/p>\n

\u201cTaylor!\u201d <\/p>\n

I shouted it at her, hating to yell but having no other choice. For a moment, I considered slapping like they always did in the movies, but with the power she controlled, I didn\u2019t dare. If she released it unintentionally, she might accidentally strike me. I might be able to deflect most\u2014the charms woven into my belt would help\u2014but I didn\u2019t know how skilled she might be. Instead, I grabbed her arm, and jerked her around to face me. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you say about the hunters?\u201d<\/p>\n

The question more than anything else pulled her back together. Her eyes hardened again and she paused in her circle, her boot stopping just as she was about to seal it. The growing pressure from the surge of blue energy she worked built around me. Useless. Worse than that, wasteful. She might be an artist, but she knew nothing about the nature of colors. <\/p>\n

\u201cThey followed me. The hunters must know I\u2019m here\u2014\u201d She started away, as if preparing to run deeper into the park, and I definitely couldn\u2019t let her do that. <\/p>\n

There was no other choice. I knocked her out with a pinch of ink scattered across her circle, infusing it with a surge of power. Her eyes went wide as she fell. I scooped under her head, catching her before she managed to reach the stones. <\/p>\n

Taylor was lighter than I expected. Pencils spilled out of her pocket as I lifted her into a fireman\u2019s carry. I glanced around the plaza. Nothing else moved, but without light I couldn\u2019t be certain. As usual, Agony seemed to watch me. <\/p>\n

I shot it a glare and hurried to the edge of the stones. Once I left this circle, I would have to rely on whatever protections I could muster. My charms would protect me, but I doubted they would extend to Taylor. I checked the ink in my satchel. Not enough for what I might need. When I came to the park, I hadn\u2019t really known what to expect. During my time back in Conlin, I hadn\u2019t sensed other painter magic. When I did, I\u2019d grabbed what I\u2019d had on hand\u2014thankfully red ink or I might have really been in trouble\u2014and hurried to the park. Now it was mostly gone. I wasn\u2019t completely helpless without it, but it would be close.<\/p>\n

The ground rumbled and power built. <\/p>\n

I hesitated, focusing on the signature of the power. Not hunters. From what I\u2019d read, they came with howls and violence. So far, Conlin had avoided drawing the attention of hunters. Whatever this was felt different. Powerful\u2014especially if they managed to nearly knock me out while I stood in my circle. And strong enough to overcome even my father\u2019s defenses around the city. <\/p>\n

But where did it come from? I saw no sign of anything outside the circle. With all the precautions I\u2019d placed around the park, I should feel something <\/i>if a magical entity approached, but there was nothing there. And for me to have been attacked while in the circle\u2026<\/p>\n

I cursed myself for stupidity and turned back to Agony.<\/p>\n

Whatever attacked had to come from within <\/i>the circle. I thought it Taylor, but she\u2019d been too frightened to do anything. As I watched, the small plate at the foot of the sculpture bulged slightly. <\/p>\n

Nothing had moved that plate before. Others had tried, the city determined to have something meaningful written on it, but hadn\u2019t managed to lift it and they didn\u2019t want to damage the sculpture. Too valuable, they felt. I always wondered if there wasn\u2019t a different reason, one my father had a hand in.<\/p>\n

The plate bulged again. <\/p>\n

At least now I understood how I\u2019d been attacked, if not by what. <\/p>\n

I could run, get away before whatever it was came through that plate and hope the protection I had around the park would keep me safe, but that would only buy me time. If something could push through <\/i>the plate like that\u2014and with enough force to overpower not only my protections, but my father\u2019s\u2014then I wouldn\u2019t be safe for long. <\/p>\n

Palming the last of the powder, I sprinted to the plate. After lowering Taylor to the ground, I traced patterns as quickly as I could along the stone, pushing the ink into <\/i>the stone: a broad circle for containment, a perfect square representing protection, and the last\u2014a flourish I wasn\u2019t certain would work\u2014a tight inverted spiral I hoped would obfuscate whatever magical entity tried pushing through. <\/p>\n

With that, my power sagged. I\u2019d spent more than I was accustomed to using. Painter power was like a muscle and I hadn\u2019t really been exercising it in the time Devan and I had been back in Conlin. Even the initial circle had been a relatively potent creation. An artist might find it easier, but then again, an artist would have a more elegant solution than what I did. <\/p>\n

The bulging of the plate eased. <\/p>\n

I leaned back, relief working through me. Damn, but it had worked. <\/p>\n

I glanced at Taylor. The power I\u2019d struck her with kept her unconscious. Maybe I\u2019d used more than I intended on her, but that was the risk I took with my type of power. At least she still breathed.<\/p>\n

She moaned slightly and rolled over. Her leg caught the edge of the powdered ink sinking into the stones. I grabbed her and pulled her away. As I did, the plate began to glow with white-hot light. <\/p>\n

Scrambling back from it, the power working through the plate was more than I could imagine. I jumped to my feet and hauled Taylor back. How much time did we have before the plate burned away? Seconds? Minutes? <\/p>\n

Something about the plate changed. I stared at it, drawn toward it like a moth to a bulb. Or a mosquito to a bug-zapper. I knew I shouldn\u2019t, but I went anyway.<\/p>\n

Where before it had always been perfectly smooth and flat, now dark shapes writhed within the glowing plate, shapes I had seen before. At that moment, I knew I needed to see them closer. The pattern emerging on the plate might help answer the questions I\u2019ve had for nearly a decade. The heat radiating from it sizzled in the air, pressing me back. Ignoring it, I crawled forward, oblivious to anything but the pattern. <\/p>\n

I reached the edge of my circle and crossed the threshold, knees dragging through the fresh ink and breaking the containment I\u2019d formed. <\/p>\n

The plate exploded with power. Energy surged through me. Colors swirled around it. My ears thundered. The hair on my arms stood out as I stretched toward it. I could feel my face burning but didn\u2019t care. I needed to see that pattern. I needed to understand.<\/p>\n

And then it faded. <\/p>\n

It happened with nothing more than a sizzle. Power and light were there and then they were not. I crouched on arms and legs, staring at the now-bronze plate, unable to understand what had happened. Answers had been there. Power great enough to surge through both my father\u2019s protections and mine had nearly come through. <\/p>\n

\u201cEscher?\u201d<\/p>\n

I licked cottony lips and twisted around. Taylor stood next to Agony, one hand resting on the statue\u2019s hip. Dark brown ink stained the tips of both index fingers and I understood. Somehow she had managed to contain whatever attempted to push out through the plate. <\/p>\n

I had underestimated her again.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you stand?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

In answer, I pushed to my feet. My head pounded and the flesh on my face felt raw. Electricity sizzled through me as if I\u2019d just stuck my finger in a light socket. I\u2019d felt power like that a few times before, and never from anything on this side of the Threshold. <\/p>\n

She reached into my pocket and grabbed the book I\u2019d taken from her. The look on her face dared me to stop her. The way I felt, I wouldn\u2019t be able to stop a child right now. <\/p>\n

I looked at the plate. Now it looked no different than it ever had. <\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you\u2014\u201d I licked my lips again and swallowed, trying to force moisture down my throat. \u201cHow did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Taylor\u2019s dark eyes turned to the plate, now looking no different than it had ever appeared. \u201cBecause that\u2019s why I\u2019m here.\u201d She motioned around the park. \u201cCome on. There must be someplace safer than this we can talk.\u201d<\/p>\n

All I could do was nod.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Read the full book by downloading it below.<\/p>\n

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Book Preview In retrospect, I think it was the drawing that summoned me. Given the way life had gone to that point, I shouldn\u2019t have been surprised. I\u2019m a painter, but not like the kind you can find in art museums and galleries, and somewhere above your average house painter in skill. I can use … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5235,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[342],"class_list":["post-5236","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-d-k-holmberg"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5236","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5236"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5236\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5235"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5236"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5236"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5236"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}