Beaten Path

by Martin Shannon

  “What?!”

  “I’m allergic to cats.”

  I slapped a hand to my forehead. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Gene!” Kaylee shouted, “Who the hell are you talking to?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir.”

  “Oh, son of a—”

  My witty retort was interrupted by hundreds of pounds of decaying flesh launching itself at me in rage-filled fury. I didn’t have enough time to react, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to—the pants did it for me.

  Those animated capris must have picked up on the Thinning, as they kicked my legs out and sent the rest of my body crashing into Adam and The Muscles. The doll ended up somewhere in that pile of plastic, along with most of the contents of my backpack.

  A bright pink flash of movement drew my attention.

  Kaylee’s bird!

  Too late, the Swamp Witch had already made eye contact with her flamingo.

  If Delia was using her bird in a Thinning, she was already more than half-crazy, but I couldn’t let Kaylee go down the same path. “Stop, don’t touch it.”

  As expected, she didn’t listen to me.

  “Private.” I tried to untangle myself from Adam. “Get that bird.”

  “You got it.” The environmentally fashionable young ghost scooped up the flamingo. “What a pretty bird you are, eh?”

  “Damn it, Petty, be careful with—”

  The flamingo’s head spun around and bit down hard onto the soldier’s ghostly finger. “Crikey!”

  Private Petty grabbed at his wounded digit and let the plastic bird tumble into the pile.

  Kaylee seized her opportunity and made a play for it, but the panther was faster. Even dead and clearly reanimated, the big cat was still plenty quick on its feet.

  “Kaylee!”

  The Swamp Witch ignored me, but I couldn’t say I was surprised. The call of the Flock was a heady drug and not something easily shook off. Add to that the Thinning and you had a recipe for disaster. Still, I wasn’t about to lose my pretend spouse after I’d only just fake married her that morning.

  Show a little respect for the institution, Gene.

  The cold tendrils of the supernatural Thinning snaked over my quasi-Magickal pants, bestowing a quick jolt of power to my nether regions and propelling me into action.

  “It’s now or never—andele’ Magick pants!” The newly reinvigorated denim sucked up Wild Magick from the Thinning like a shammy and launched me free of my apprentice.

  “Gene, wait,” Adam cried, crawling to a seated position. “You don’t have your Magick.”

  “Tell that to the pants!”

  The rotting feline had Kaylee in its sights and was closing fast. Large paws like catchers mitts tore through the piles of pink plastic, but still the Swamp Witch didn’t change course. Thankfully, the Magick pants had closing speed, and appeared to know a good bit more geometry than I did.

  “Kaylee, snap the hell out of it!” Animated pants swung my butt in front of Ed’s ex-wife and then out of the way of one very powerful panther paw.

  “Mom!” The junior Demon Hunter broke his mom from her trance just long enough for her to watch him get leveled by a second panther from behind.

  “Eddie!”

  “Gotcha,” I said, scooping up the flamingo before Kaylee could get her hands on it.

  Across the room, the junior Demon Hunter had his own hands full fighting off the rotting beast, but unlike the rest of us he appeared to have a decent chance of succeeding. Little Ed slipped under a swipe of claws and dug his hand into the monster’s chest.

  “Go for the heart!” he shouted.

  “You got that, Adam?”

  Much to my surprise my apprentice was already way ahead of me. He scooped up Mindy’s Brain Freezer. The blender being one of the many things he’d stuffed in his backpack.

  “What are you doing? You’ve got to plug it in.”

  My apprentice shook his head. “You aren’t the only one who can improvise. I learned from the best of them.”

  “Adam!”

  My apprentice ripped the top off the glass pitcher and mashed down the buttons, his Magick roaring into the machine. Inside that wide mouth tiny blades exploded to life and sliced up an icy green concoction.

  “Gene!” Kaylee shouted behind me. She’d shaken off the Flock for now, but still had a rotting cat of her own to contend with. The undead beast tore through the piles of plastic slashing at the Swamp Witch’s legs. Magick built up around Ed’s ex-wife, but it was sporadic and uncoordinated.

  She needs the staff. Well, isn’t that just special?

  The flamingo latched its beak down on my wrist and I almost tossed it away then and there, but that bold little bird’s move gave me an idea.

  Damn it, Petty. Where are you when I need you?

  “I’m here,” said the young ghost, his voice now solidly in my skull. “What’s your plan?”

  I mentally walked him through the gist of it.

  “Are you sure you want to do that again?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not, but it’s the best idea I’ve got.”

  The spectral soldier vanished and his silver saber appeared in my hand. For the second time in two days, I turned over control to the young soldier, and hoped to hell and back he’d return it without a fight.

  “I’ve learned something, sir,” the Private’s voice echoed in my head.

  “What’s that?”

  “I really miss being alive.”

  Oh, crap.

  30

  Margaritaville

  Private Petty went for the surprise attack—in that it surprised both me, and the cat. That cheeky spirit launched us onto the creature’s back. Not being a beast of burden, the panther had no idea what to do with a Magician on its back. Instincts took over, and the monster went for the most efficient response—try to buck me off.

  Petty clamped my hand down on a slimy exposed rib. “Hold on, sir.”

  Private!

  The cat flipped. The sudden turn cost me any hold I’d had on the flamingo. That pink bird tumbled end over end through the air, only to land somewhere among its inanimate brethren.

  “Gene—”

  I didn’t get the rest of Kaylee’s words before the massive rotting cat-corpse smothered me.

  This wasn’t one of your best ideas.

  Private Petty’s voice responded me in my head. “I told you I don’t have a lot of cat experience. I’m more of a dog person, honestly.”

  Now you tell me.

  With a good chunk of my body pinned beneath the panther, the Magick pants went to work. They kicked a leg out and sent it slamming down onto what I assumed was the area where sensitive cat bits would be located.

  The moldy feline hissed and flipped upright. The maneuver sent me sliding across the floor only to crash into a pile of broken flamingos.

  Yahtzee.

  Kaylee’s hands pulled me upright. “Gene, it’s coming back around.”

  “What?”

  She was right. The monster shook off shards of broken birds and advanced on us.

  Petty…

  “I’m on it, sir”

  Petty’s silver saber returned to my hand, its grip resting comfortably between my fingers.

  “I thought you had no Magick,” Kaylee said, pointing at the sword.

  “It’s a long story. I’ll explain it to you after we—”

  “Eddie!” Kaylee pulled my attention away from the advancing feline.

  The junior Demon Hunter lay pinned beneath the other beast’s massive paw. The cat had him pressed against the dirt, its paw raised up to deliver the killing blow.

  Private!

  “There’s nothing I can do, sir. He’s too far away.”

  What do you mean? Throw your saber!

  “And that leaves us with what? Your natural charm?”

  Petty, I swear I’m—

  “Bluescreen of Death!” Adam swung the pitcher of frozen margaritas like a fire bucket
at the cat poised to separate Little Ed’s head from his body.

  Typically, never-ending margaritas had to be consumed to get the freezing effect, but with a Thinning in play it was really anybody’s guess. Bright green party booze hit the panther square in the face and icy waves of freezing crystals raced down the creature’s body.

  “Nice work, Adam,” I said, only to have Private Petty pull my attention back to the task at hand.

  “Sir, the cat…”

  The crunch of broken plastic was an excellent motivator, as was the panther closing fast. We’d already backed up about as far as we could.

  What’s the plan, Private?

  “Try not to let you get killed, sir.”

  Do or do not, Private. There is no try.

  “Nice one.” The young ghost chuckled and sent my arm into action. The saber cut a path across the feline’s face, tearing at tendons and slicing away rotting flesh. Petty adjusted for a second pass, but the panther was quicker, turning the blade aside with a swipe of its rotting paw.

  Go for the heart!

  “Sir, the talking.”

  Right, sorry.

  Between Private Petty’s blade and my expert non-verbal commentary, we slashed and parried like a well-oiled machine. Sure, it was really the State Saber Champ, but occasionally my pants provided some fancy footwork that helped keep the two of us upright.

  Petty brought the saber down again, this time catching the panther’s jawline and severing a few decayed tendons in the process. The monster’s counter was clumsy and gave me a few seconds to check on Little Ed—turns out I didn’t need to.

  The junior Demon Hunter rammed his machete home, driving it between the monster’s frozen ribs and making contact with its heart. The beast disintegrated: tendons, muscles, and bones fell away like discarded wrappers, leaving nothing but an icy black heart.

  Like that, see? That’s how you kill them.

  “Sir,” Private Petty said, his voice strong between my ears. “I’m really trying to stay civil, but you aren’t making that easy.”

  Civil? We don’t need civil, kid. We need ass-kicking goodness.

  “Sir, I can’t do that if you don’t—”

  Private Petty’s words were cut off by the panther’s pounce. My animated denim juked us to the side, but even they weren’t fast enough to avoid all of it. The beast’s claws tore through my front pants pocket, rending the enchanted denim, and carving a deep gouge in the painted wooden grave marker.

  Petty!

  Wrenched free, the broken fragment landed among the plastic, and took with it my connection to the soldier.

  Private?

  I got no response, and the saber vanished from my hand, effectively leaving me defenseless. Even being an undead, the panther didn’t take long to figure that out.

  Kaylee’s hands grabbed my shoulder. “Gene? Where’s your sword?”

  The grave marker slipped below the shifting plastic and disappeared like a wallet sinking into the ball pits of Chucky Cheese.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me.” I put the Swamp Witch behind me. “Well, you, me, and the pants.”

  My animated pants must have figured out what just happened, because they suddenly tried to make a break for the door.

  “Stop,” I said, fighting against the panicking denim.

  The cat advanced undeterred. Even with evidence of Private Petty’s saber everywhere—torn tendons, split and oozing muscles—the monster still pounced. Kaylee wrapped her arms around me and I closed my eyes, digging for some Magick, any Magick, that might help. The Thinning was full of it, but it was too strong. I couldn’t control that power. To reach for it now would be like drinking from a firehose.

  “Kernel Panic!” Adam shouted, and I opened my eyes just in time to avoid being splashed with the bright green margarita mix of Mindy’s Brain Freezer. The panther was not so lucky.

  “Adam!”

  My apprentice swung the frosted pitcher on his fingers like an extra from Cocktail. “Order up!”

  “You glorious bastard, don’t drop the—”

  Before I could finish chiding him, the pitcher handle slipped from his finger and hit the floor with a bang, shattering the glass and introducing us to a brand-new problem.

  When Magickal items were unmade—even by complete accident when a Magician had done his or her best to make fools out of themselves—things typically went bad, very bad. This time, though, they went worse, because as bad as an unmaking was, doing it in a Thinning was always worse.

  “Adam!”

  “Whoops…”

  A conga-line of ice crystals raced across the ground, freezing everything they touched, including the stacks of plastic birds, and anything they were in contact with.

  “Run.” I pushed Kaylee toward the door.

  She pushed back and dug into the pile of quickly freezing yard art. “No, the bird. We are Flock!”

  Glacier-like frost shattered plastic and fused metal legs. “Let it go, you’ve got to move.”

  “I can’t! We are Flock!”

  I shoved the Swamp Witch toward Adam. “Get her out of here now!”

  My apprentice caught Kaylee’s arm even as she struggled to get free. “Where are you going, Gene?”

  “To find Private Petty!”

  “Who?”

  “Long story,” I said, brushing at the frost building up on my pants. “Just get her out of—”

  I froze, and not from the cocktail mix—the compact wasn’t in my pocket.

  “What is it, Gene?”

  “The compact, it’s gone!”

  My apprentice picked up the backpack. “It’s not in here either.”

  A cold wave of panic raced down my spine, and it wasn’t from the wave of frozen booze, it was the thought of losing my Magick—permanently.

  The wooden marker or the mirror? You don’t have time for both. You made Petty a promise, and he’s saved your life more than once… But my Magick…

  I hesitated, but Adam didn’t; he used his girth to wrap up the Swamp Witch and hand her off to Little Ed. “Get her out of here. I’ve got to help Gene!”

  Ice crystals raced up my capris, stiffening the denim around my knees and making it difficult to move. From there, the freezing wave rolled undeterred, icing over Adam’s feet, and pinning his sneakers to the ground.

  “Uh, Gene?”

  I kicked at the frost, breaking my apprentice free, but wasting valuable time in the process.

  The Magick or Private Petty—it’s time to decide just what kind of person you are.

  More ice expanded out in all directions, submerging shattered plastic like thick frosting on a wedding cake.

  “You need to go,” I said, pushing my apprentice toward the entrance.

  “Like hell I do.” Adam threw broken birds by the handful. “I’m finding the compact!”

  Time to decide, Gene. Are you like Delia? Is Gene Law the most important thing in your life? Or can you make the real sacrifices?

  “Switch gears.” I grabbed his arm.

  “Huh?”

  “There’s a death marker here for a kid I made a promise to and I’m not giving up on him.”

  Adam tossed aside more frozen birds. “What does it look like?”

  “A white sliver of wood.”

  Adam surveyed the frosting sea of plastic. “You’re kidding.”

  “Less talking, more digging!”

  Plastic birds fused together, their pink bodies icing up in the freezing blast of uncontrolled margarita Magick, and quickly becoming next to impossible to separate.

  “Gene,” Adan said, his hands broken and bleeding. “We’ve got to go, come on.”

  “No, I can’t!”

  “You can’t save everyone!”

  “That’s not the point.”

  Adam grabbed my collar. “It is the point. Cathy’s safe—they’re all safe. She’s still in Tampa, but neither of us will see her again if you don’t let this go.”

  Ice scraped at my fingers
, but still I dug deeper, snapping off broken plastic.

  Come on!

  “Gene, we’ve got to—”

  My fingers brushed over the marker’s white wood.

  “I found it!”

  “What?”

  “There,” I shouted, diving into the mass of frosted bird bits reaching for the broken piece of roadside cross. “I’ve almost got it.”

  Ice raced over the sleeve of Ed’s old shirt and burned at my arms, but I couldn’t stop, not with the marker so close.

  “We’ve got to go,” Adam cried, pulling me toward the door the instant my fingers closed around Private Petty’s marker.

  The last thing I remembered before hitting the dirt outside was the young soldier’s faint and tired voice somewhere between my ears. “Thank you, sir.”

  31

  Choices Made

  In the Thinning’s waning moments, the frozen concrete and steel crumbled, leaving the derelict remains of the Sturkey bird house a heap of twisted rebar, broken concrete, and small pink shards of plastic.

  The mirror’s gone.

  I clutched at what remained of Private Petty’s grave marker. The young man’s spirit was still bound inside the broken cross, but something was different. The panther’s claws had taken a toll on the brave kid, one that I wasn’t sure he would ever recover from.

  I held that marker and traced its edge with my finger.

  I’m sorry, kid. I don’t know if I can get you home without my Magick, or if I ever could to begin with…

  I wasn’t sure if I’d expected a response from the solider, but I didn’t get one just the same. I placed the shard of wood back in my pocket, and as I did my fingers caught on the edge of the paper photo wheel. Very little light filtered in from the setting sun, but I held up the disc to it just the same. There was a consolation prize tucked inside those images. I’d gained a spot on my Darkling.

  Huh, saving the marker won me back a little of my humanity—I’ll take it.

  “Gene?”

  Adam’s voice sounded distant and muffled.

  “We have a problem,” he said. His words slowly worked their way past the walls of defeated sadness I’d been building in my head.