Kat Richardson - Labyrinth

Then it stopped. Breath slid out of her mouth and she seemed to get heavier in his lap, her staring eyes seeming to dull as he watched. Something felt like it cracked open in his chest. He wanted to scream, but men don’t, and he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He just held on to her body, which already felt too cool, and listened to feet pound down the stairs too damned late.

Something loomed behind him, but he didn’t give it the satisfaction of a glance. “She will come back.” Carlos. Scariest bastard in the bunch and he hadn’t helped her.

“How do you know ?” Quinton screamed. “What if she doesn’t? She said there’s always a last time and what if this was it? All this is for nothing. She didn’t save anyone, not even herself. And you didn’t help!”

He hung his head and now the tears came. Carlos made a scoffing sound deep in his throat. Quinton wanted to kill him.

“Oh, ye of little faith. It appears Ms. Blaine shot Mr. Goodall before she went down. She is much too stubborn to die.”

Men with guns scrambled through the door and Quinton could feel Carlos step back, probably sliding into shadows or some other damned vampire trick so he wouldn’t have to explain anything.

In the distance, someone was talking. “Who are you?” Solis, maybe . . .

“Carlos Pires Ataíde. I accompanied Ms. Linzey and Mr. Lassiter.”

Solis grunted and said something in Spanish.

“No, only Portuguese and the sort of words your mother would blush at.”

Shuffling sounds barely penetrated his mind as he blinked the stinging water out of his eyes, trying to see Harper’s face for as long as he could. He kept fooling himself that she’d twitched or shivered, but he knew it wasn’t true. She felt so cold and heavy. Didn’t they always say dead people were lighter? What was it . . . twenty-one grams? The weight of a soul. Or a breath.

Someone was kneeling beside him, pulling on him, trying to get to Harper, but he wouldn’t let them take her. Busy hands worked around him and voices floated past, unheard.

Quinton shivered, breathing too roughly around the heavy constriction in his chest and throat. His hands trembled, brushing the fallen teardrops off Harper’s face. How would he ever draw another breath with this feeling in his chest? It was like dying himself.

Then Harper blinked.

Imade up several terms and creatures for this book and the previous one since I couldn’t find good words to describe what I wanted or monsters to take the roles I needed. In two cases I worked from Portuguese roots, since Carlos, who introduces both terms, is originally from Portugal. In vetting my terms I got some help from two native Portuguese speakers: Nelia Chalmers, and Guilhermes Damian. Errors and misappropriations are all mine and not their fault. I tend to take vile liberties with languages, so I hope native speakers and scholars won’t be too upset with me for what I’ve done here.

Névoacria:“Mist creature.” Created by me from two Portuguese terms: “ névoa ,” meaning “mist,” and “ criatura ,” meaning “creature.” I shortened the term to make it easier to read.

Lâmina que Consome as Almas:“Blade that consumes souls.” A suggestion in Portuguese from Nelia, and one I just couldn’t resist.

Seraphi-guardi:“Seraphlike guards.” This is a passive creature made of numberless, ethereal eyes, suggested by the seraphim described in Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quartet books. Another term I made up, but this time from the Latin roots.

Kreanou:A vampire subtype with shape-shifting abilities, driven by ultimate fury and despair to destroy its creator and therefore itself. Each is tied to its vampiric creator by an incompletely severed link which stops it from ever being sane or free. This is another creature I invented; the name is bastardized Greek.

Asetem-ankh-astet:Ancient Egyptian vampires who thrive on emotional pain and turmoil. They are the “children” of the Pharaohn-ankh-astet and depend on his existence and power for their own. As his power wanes, so does theirs. They cannot long survive without the Pharaohn.

Ushabti:A daywalking demi-vampire type specific to the asetem. Closer to human than most demi-vampires and dhampirs, the ushabti acts as a servant to the Pharaohn and has magical abilities that are unique to each ushabti. The term comes from the Egyptian funerary figures of the same name that were put into ancient graves to assist the dead in the afterlife.

Pharaohn-ankh-astet:The god-king of the asetem, he is the dwindling remains of an ancient serpent god—which I cobbled up from the numerous snake gods found in legends throughout Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. Only the Pharaohn can make an asete, and with his death, the remaining asetem must either find another god, learn to make one, or die (quickly or slowly).

The previous book, Vanished , had no author’s note even though I did a lot of research for it, including some on-the-ground work in London. But since nearly all of the research did make it into the book, a note didn’t seem as important. What didn’t make it may have its day another time.

For Labyrinth , there was a lot less external research than any previous book. I did go to Leavenworth, Washington, and do a lot of driving around and reading up to find the perfect place for Dru Cristoffer’s house and labyrinth. The actual location has never been built on and is, in fact, just a fold of empty land up behind the cemetery. The Leavenworth graveyard, however, does exist right where I said it does. It’s an interesting place to look at and people are still being buried there once in a while.

The ghosts Harper sees on the road are memorials to documented modern and historical accidents. One in particular, the two women and a boy, is a sad, strange tale that began with the death of a Seattle mortician on Thanksgiving night 1944 and ended with the death of his family exactly four years later. It’s the sort of thing you’d half expect Harper to find, and if you want to know more about this tragedy, the article at HistoryLink is very good: www.historylink.org/index.cfm?DisplayPage=output.cfm&file_id=8229.

The ladies at the Upper Valley Historical Society have no idea how much my tour of their museum and bookshop helped in the writing of the Leavenworth scenes and my understanding of the town’s current and past incarnations. All the museum volunteers were helpful and sweet, and they never knew what dreadful things I was contemplating. Also, the maker of some of the tastiest chocolate in the world is located in Leavenworth so the trip wasn’t all work and no play.

Some of my research into math, mazes, labyrinths, and their relation to Greek keys led me to the fun webpages of programmer Jo Edkins. You can find a nifty animation showing how a Greek key becomes a labyrinth on this page that Edkins designed: gwydir.demon.co.uk/jo/greekkey/origin.htm.

I got some help from my sister, Elizabeth Rose, and her husband, Armando Marini, with the Lâmina’s possible origin and construction as well as some of the ceremonial magic and magic circle information. As usual, I tweaked a few things to match my needs rather than sticking strictly to canon. Clay quenching is a real process in weapon forging and several legends mention quenching magical blades in the blood of enemies, but I don’t suggest trying this at home. Or anywhere else.

I also must apologize to residents of the Nob Hill district in Queen Anne for putting a nest of asetem in their midst. I had to muck about a little with the actual geography of the hill and its towers to get what I wanted for the story in place, but I tried to keep it to a minimum. For instance, the Queen Anne High School gymnasium building wasn’t actually closed until September of 2009, but it was too good a location to resist. I would have used the original high school building, which is said to be haunted, but it’s now been renovated into very classy condos and I just couldn’t see Wygan living there. . . .