by Alicia Fabel
Kale whipped around, shielding the mystery woman behind him, and startling the squirrel. Seeming to realize it was outnumbered, the bizarre squirrel darted away. Vera wished she could do the same. Instead, she pulled on her defiant-girl panties and rose to her feet wearing her best glare. Redness crept up Kale’s neck, which Vera could see clearly thanks to a couple of newly-opened buttons. So yuck. He noticed her runaway bag when she looped her fingers under the frayed straps. Kale’s expression darkened as an otherworldly face peered around his arm. The woman’s skin had a silvery glow. Her hair was the same purple as her nails. She was all violet and shimmer like a princess, or a goddess. Grape Goddess was stunning. She was also tiny, coming only up to Kale’s sternum. The woman smiled cheerfully at Vera with the palest lavender lips and a mouth full of pointed teeth.
“Oh, my. Hello.” Grape Goddess gave a friendly wave.
Vera liked the woman immediately.
“Go back, now,” Kale said to Vera through gritted teeth.
“No,” Vera replied obstinately. “I’m going home.”
“Home is not this way. You are somewhere else,” Kale said.
Uni-squirrel and grabby-plant flashed in Vera’s mind. Crap-ola. This is another realm. Kale had made it sound like stumbling across a gate was hard to do. Vera glanced around curiously. She hadn’t even noticed she’d gone anywhere.
“What’s going on here Kalesius?” asked Grape Goddess.
A bubble of hope inflated in Vera’s chest. The woman would help her, Vera knew it.
“He’s holding me captive,” Vera announced.
Kale groaned.
“Guardian?” asked the woman, backing away from Kale.
Kale did the oddest thing then. He squatted down, placed the fingertips of his right hand on the ground and lifted his left hand toward the canopy, cupped like he held an invisible ball.
“Go back to the meadow. Please,” Kale said to Vera.
Vera was prepared to ignore him until the “please.” Kale was a shady, controlling muscle-head—he didn’t plead. What had Vera missed? Her heart beat faster.
“You cannot protect a siphon. The realms will not allow it.” The woman’s beautiful features twisted as she struggled and failed to take a step toward Vera. “She is already dead. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
With some alarm, Vera realized that her usually infallible intuition had been wrong about the woman. She should’ve realized it too. When had she ever liked someone immediately? The answer was never. Even Suzie had needed to earn Vera’s trust over time. And yet, Vera hadn’t thought to question her reaction to the purple woman. If Vera couldn’t tell the good guys from the bad in this place, she was completely screwed. Worse than that, even knowing Grape Goddess wanted her dead, didn’t stop Vera from wanting to get closer to the woman. Only shock kept Vera’s feet from moving. Whatever Kale was doing, was somehow holding back the would-be murderess while Vera struggled to regain her senses.
“The girl is my charge. Quit your assault on her,” Kale ordered Grape Goddess.
“The realms are tired of being bound to our enemies,” said Grapey. “If they learn the banished are escaping their prison…” She tsked and plumped her bottom lip. “They will raise armies to destroy the axis once and for all. And you with it.”
“They would not succeed,” replied Kale.
Vera noted the gentle chiming near the base of her skull.
“But that doesn’t really matter because you will not reveal her presence here to anyone.”
“I am beyond your reach,” taunted the woman. “As soon as your fingers leave the earth, I will be at my father’s side.” The woman rubbed a lock of her hair between her fingers thoughtfully. “If you release me now, I could convince my father to consider an alternative solution for you. The siphon, however, is past saving.”
“You mean you’ll talk him into blackmailing me in return for your silence,” Kale said.
“Give a little, get a little.” Grapey smiled sweetly. “The Guardian releasing humans is no little thing, but Father can be reasonable. I’m sure you could come to an arrangement that would be better than destruction and death, no? I’ve heard it will be a bloodbath when the Infernal Ones battle for the privilege of torturing your soul for eternity.”
Holy crap. Vera really wished she could turn tail right about then, but she was incapable of anything so sensible at that moment.
“Or you can let me destroy the siphon now,” suggested Grape Goddess. “It’ll save you from having to kill your little pet yourself. Perhaps the world need not know about your little indiscretion. I could even keep your secret from father.”
“What’s your price?” Kale asked.
“No price.” Grape Goddess radiated warmth.
Vera knew the sincerity was phony as all getup, but she couldn’t even be angry with the woman. Dammit.
“Just don’t forget about the deal we were discussing before the siphon interrupted.”
“If I decide I don’t like your deal?” asked Kale
The woman shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes I am forgetful. Things slip from my tongue. But either way, you cannot save the—” Grapey’s voice cut off on a choke before she closed her mouth and stood there looking bored.
Vera’s flight response finally kicked in once the woman was silent. Stumbling back, she spun around to leave.
“Wait, Vera,” Kale called out.
Vera most certainly did not want to stay there for another second, but the exhaustion in Kale’s voice gave her pause. Sweat beaded his forehead and the muscles in his neck strained. I can’t just leave him here. Right? Whatever he was doing, it had kept the hypnotizing woman away from her. Without Kale, Vera would be a goner and she knew it.
“She can’t get out?” Vera eyed the purple woman. “Is she a demon?”
“A jinn. She can’t get out until I let her.” Kale blinked slowly and dug his fingers deeper into the ground like he was keeping himself from floating away. “I need to know how you got here.”
“I followed the little trail you made.” Vera pointed at the narrow path.
“You shouldn’t be able to see that. You definitely shouldn’t be able to follow it through any gates.” Kale’s eyes narrowed at Vera and she squirmed. “You’ve started absorbing my magic.”
“Excuse me?”
“Even Samhira calls you a siphon, not a human. I’ve been trying to keep you away from magic so this wouldn’t happen. But you won’t stay put like you’re supposed to.”
“Am I supposed to apologize for not being a docile hostage?” Maybe I can leave him here.
“You’re not a hostage,” Kale declared with more of his usual crankiness, and then sighed. “That’s not important right now. If you can siphon magic, you can manipulate it. And that means you can help me stop Samhira, now that you’ve exposed yourself.” The accusation in his words made Vera defensive.
“I can’t help you. I am just a human.” Vera folded her arms. “This is not my fault.”
“You’re right. If I’d simply let the unnatural have you, none of this would be happening.”
“I can take care of myself,” Vera said adamantly.
“Yeah, you were doing a great job of that a few minutes ago when Samhira threw a little of her charm at you.”
“If you’d let me go home, I never would’ve met your psycho girlfriend.”
“Right now, I’m the only one standing between that realm you are so anxious to get back to and all the other realms that want it gone. So you can help me stop Samhira, or you can go home and wait for her people to wipe out your realm when she tells them all that humans are roaming the world once more.”
“Gah! Like that’s even a choice.” Vera threw her arms in the air. “I don’t know what you expect me to do, though.”
“Have you ever seen someone spin wool into yarn?” asked Kale.
“Uh, sure. On cartoons.” Vera shrugged. “Afterward, the little yellow sheep knitted it into a scarf to give to his b
est friend, the blue horse, for his birthday. The chickens ground up their corn to make him a cornbread birthday cake too. How is this helpful?”
“Can you picture how the sheep pulled and twisted the soft bits of wool together?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Good,” said Kale wearily. “See what I am doing with my hands? Do what I am doing, right hand down, left hand up.” Vera followed the instructions feeling immensely stupid. “Now, this is the tricky part. You need to pull in the magic around you.”
“I don’t understand. Is this about siphoning or whatever? You want me to siphon magic? Because I can’t,” Vera said with frustration.
“There’s no time to teach you how to siphon. I’m basically going to throw magic at you. You’ll just catch it and hold it.”
“I should warn you, I’m not good at catching things.”
Kale rolled his eyes. “It’s not that kind of catch. Just keep your hands like that and you’ll be fine. Oh, and it will tingle a bit.”
A moment later, Vera shrieked and cradled the hand she’d been holding in the air to her chest. That had not been a little tingly. It had felt like touching a live wire, which she had done once before—when she was eight. Vera’s foster sister had convinced her that it would show her what happiness felt like. It had not. Although, after the trip to the hospital in an ambulance, Vera had gotten her a new home placement with Suzie out of it. So in a way, it had brought her happiness. According to Kale, if she sucked it up and grabbed that electricity again, Samhira wouldn’t slaughter her. Which would make Vera happy once again. It was going to totally suck though.
Vera threw her fingers into the air. Her arm buzzed with scorching fire.
“Relax,” Kale coached Vera.
Sure, no problem, Vera wanted to snap at Kale but the fire zinging through her, which Kale called magic, had locked her jaw shut.
“Magic is like the fibers of wool. You need to tighten them into a cord to make them useful. Like spinning wool into yarn. Picture it in your mind. Pull all that tingling from all your limbs and twist it into a single strand.”
This is freaking insane.
“Come on, Vera, concentrate. If a little yellow lamb can do it, so can you.”
Bite me, Scotchie. Vera reined in her mind and imagined the overwhelming burn receding from her skin and muscles. She pictured it spinning into a length of electric yarn. Tighter and tighter, until all the tendrils became a single vein of lightning that pulsed from her upraised hand to the center of her chest.
“Now, ground it. Stretch the end of your cord into the earth beneath your hand. Keep your other hand raised, though. The cord can’t pull your hand down if you won’t allow it.”
It didn’t take much coaxing to get the lightening strand to anchor itself. Once it made contact with the soil, it happily planted itself, stretching deeper into the ground than Vera would have thought possible. What had begun as a span of magic was now at least twenty times that long. A tug on Vera’s upraised hand let her know the cord was finally out of give. Kale was right. It didn’t fight for more length than she gave it.
“Good,” Kale said to her. “I’m going to tie your thread to mine. Don’t pull away.”
When Kale’s magic prodded Vera’s, it was like a finger stroking her flesh. Vera’s fought the urge to recoil, reminding herself that Kale was not touching any part of her, despite how it felt. Where Vera’s cord was blistering electricity, Kale’s was a swirling void that threatened to steal away her breath. Kale’s magic slid along hers until both cords were aligned, then it wove itself into Vera’s. It only took a moment before their magics were completely intertwined. Gently, Kale guided their shared cord upward through the earth to the feet of Samhira. To Vera, it felt like having another limb. The magics emerged from the soil and looped around Samhira’s feet and leg. We just lassoed a jinn with invisible magic cords. Holy crazy buckets. The purple woman’s mouth opened on a soundless screech while the magic pinned her arms to her sides, rendering her motionless.
“Hold it tight,” said Kale. “In just a minute, I’m going to let go. You’ll have to hold both our magics on your own. If you remove your hand from the ground, they will snap back and kill you. So don’t.”
Vera stared at him wide-eyed, wanting to tell him she’d changed her mind. But it was too late. She couldn’t speak. Instead, Vera pulled on the magics with all her might.
“If you lower your other hand, even an inch, Samhira will slip free.” Kale looked at Vera with regret and said, “It is going to hurt. Count to ten, and pull tighter on the cord with each count. If you don’t think you can pull any harder, find a way to do it anyway. When you get to ten, release it. But not before ten, okay?” He waited for Vera’s nod. “Get ready. Pull now, Vera.”
One, Vera counted in her head. The electricity was a familiar burn. Two. Kale dropped his raised hand, releasing the magic, and the burn multiplied exponentially. Three. A scream tore from Vera’s throat. She squeezed her eyes closed. Four. She pulled on the cords until her arms shook, and then she pulled harder. Five. Tears slid down her face, obscuring the world. Six. Lady, help me. Seven. Please. Eight. Pull. Nine. . . Ten.
Vera fell over and curled into a ball. The magic, once freed, slithered away, but the lightning had scorched Vera’s insides while she’d harnessed its power. It was killing her. The world faded away, the physical agony replaced by a new kind of anguish. Terror ran wild in Vera’s mind. The monster had caught her. He pinned her to the ground. Sand coated her tongue while she struggled against his weight on her back. He dipped his face to her shoulder and bit down. Vera opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out.
“Vera, look at me,” Kale called her back to consciousness. “Open your eyes.”
With one last shake, Vera came to. She choked on a sob and captured Kale’s hand before he pulled it away, clinging to the man while the events in her mind retreated to a far corner. She threw a wall up around all of it and fled. Kale knelt in front of her.
“It’s over. You are safe,” Kale said quietly, staring at her hand in his.
Truth.
Vera saw the body behind Kale then. Beside it was a ball of violet hair splattered with red. Kale tried to block her view, but it was too late. The same red covered Kale’s chest and hands. And now her hands too. Vera rolled to her knees, heaved, and threw up. When Kale tried to help, Vera cringed away. She’d held Samhira motionless while Kale murdered her. The woman hadn’t even been able to fight back. Some part of Vera had known the woman was going to die, had to die to protect an entire world of humans. However, Vera hadn’t let herself think about what that would mean before now. She heaved again.
“She didn’t feel any pain,” Kale said gently from a few feet away when Vera’s stomach stopped rolling.
Vera didn’t feel any relief in the hollow ache at her core with that knowledge. The sickness didn’t ease. The wailing in her head wouldn’t quit.
“Why does the world hate my people?” Vera asked, desperate for an explanation for all of it. “We haven’t done anything.”
“It isn’t what you’ve done. It’s what you could do.”
“That’s a shitty reason for genocide,” replied Vera, directing her revulsion and anger outward.
“Some people would agree, but most have been taught to fear your kind for generations. They cannot help it.” Kales eyes scanned the forest around them. “We need to get back to the meadow. Can you walk? I’ll explain as best as I can on the way.”
Vera stood on shaky legs. She refused to let Kale touch her.
“The realms used to be kingdoms, spread across one world. Now they are fragments, completely isolated and scared,” said Kale. “Your kind did that.”
“But humans are helpless compared to all of you,” argued Vera.
“You are humans because there’s no magic to absorb in your realm. Exposed to magic, you would not stay human for long. Look at you.”
“We’d all become siphons?”
“No on
e really knows anymore. When the realms divided, your realm was filled with siphons, half-breeds who absorb the magic of those around them. But there were others too: mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, children, and friends, people from all over the world who chose exile to be with their loved ones. There’s no telling how your kind has evolved over a thousand years of intermingling on that scale. No telling what you are.”
“Siphons steal magic from other people?”
“Not necessarily. Siphons can learn to absorb excess magic around them, the run-off so to speak. The problems happen when there’re not enough magic leftovers to go around or when siphons become addicts.”
“Let me guess, that’s what happened with my ancestors,” said Vera. “Their greed destroyed the world.”
“Yes.”
“That’s no reason to want to kill off all my kind,” said Vera. “News flash. Becoming an addict is not genetic.”
“The potential threat is enough to scare people. Their memories of that time have not been lost. The only way to protect your people is to keep them locked away.”
“And if anyone finds out I’m wandering around outside my prison, that would be enough to doom my entire world,” concluded Vera.
It wasn’t a question, but Kale answered, “Yes.”
So if Vera went home, she could be killed by the unnatural. If she stayed in the meadow, she could be killed by the next person who saw her. Either way, she’d die. However, staying meant gambling with the lives of billions of humans. Vera had never been a gambler. She’d seen what gambling did to people. There was no way she would start now, not when she’d be betting with the survival of her entire race. She had to get home. She’d kill the monster herself if that's what it took.