Free Ibenus (Valducan series) by Seth Skorkowsky Page B

the tight corners of his lips, like a boy caught stealing cookies.
    "Then when I was twelve, I fiddled the lock on Ibenus' case open. That feeling…" Allan's fingers gripped the sword, "getting to touch her for the first time." He released a low breath, the memory tingling through his veins. "It was love." Allan glanced to Victoria, watching him intently, a question forming on her lips. A strange pang of guilt prodded his stomach but he couldn't say why. Why should he feel guilt?
    "My uncle caught me, of course," Allan continued. "I was swinging her around, pretending I was some warrior. It's a wonder I didn't break anything. Got in a lot of trouble for that one. I thought he'd send me home for sure, but…" He shook his head. "That was the last time I was allowed in there, though. Then when I was finishing secondary school, my uncle passed away. The estate was divided up and he willed me Ibenus as well as tuition to University of Liverpool. That was about the time the dreams began."
    Gerhard cocked his head. "Dreams?"
    "Yeah. I'd always had dreams about Ibenus as long as I could remember. Nothing too specific. Usually she was the goal, something I was searching for. They became more common after I first touched her. But now I was holding her in them. Fighting on some ancient battlefield or exploring a dungeon. See, I wasn't ready for her yet. I was too young. But then, once she was mine, they became nightly and full of monsters."
    Gerhard leaned closer, eyes intent. "Tell me about them."
    "The most common one, I was in a desert, dressed as Lawrence of Arabia or something. There was this wall of sand swirling around me, like I was in the eye of a storm. The wind was howling and monsters were coming out of the wall, or bursting up from the dunes, attacking me, coming for her. And no matter how many I killed, two more emerged, all of them different. Every one."
    "I was on a city street," Gerhard said. "There was a glowing fog and the monsters were coming out of the windows and sewers."
    Allan smiled. "Wake up sweating?"
    The German nodded.
    Allan raised a finger. "That's the call. Ibenus was telling me I was ready. I just didn't know for what. Then, when I was twenty, I heard about some farmers in Greasby, claimed a giant black dog was killing their sheep. Called it the Beast of Wirral. After a couple of months, a girl was found dead, torn apart by some animals. Tabloids pegged it on the Beast but no one actually believed in it."
    "But you did," Victoria said, her voice a whisper.
    "Yeah." He swallowed. "I didn't know why it struck me so hard, but I started obsessing about it. I'd head down there nightly, Ibenus tucked into a battered DJ case. I'd filled it with foam, cutout this shape of her in it so she could fit, like some television hit man." He chuckled. "Two weeks I did that, creeping around farms at night, crawling through fences. What started as this sort of game had completely taken over." Allan met Gerhard's eyes, his smile falling into cold sincerity. "Then one night I found it."
    If the German was moved by the dramatic flair, he didn't show it. "What was it?"
    "Hellhound," Allan answered. "Imagine a shaggy black dog, but huge, big enough to ride. At first I couldn't tell what it was. Just this shape in the shadows. Then I saw these two red eyes glowing like coals. It was that moment I realized it wasn't some fanciful game I was playing. It was real, and it was charging at me, teeth bared. It leapt at me. I stumbled backwards and brought up Ibenus, like I could somehow block it, then, whoosh , I'm a full meter away from where I fell, and was standing."
    Gerhard's brows furrowed. "I don't…understand."
    "Ibenus grants me the gift to teleport a short distance when I swing her. Just a meter, meter and a half, but it’s enough."
    "Teleport?" Gerhard looked over at Turgen, skepticism filming the German's eyes.
    The corners of Turgen's lips tightened into a smile.
    "You didn't tell him?" Allan asked.
    "It hadn't come up