by J M Guillen
“So you want your mother to live?” He scratched at his bony chin, his lengthy fingernails brittle and yellow.
“She has less than a month.” I didn’t meet his gaze as I fought to remain calm, centered. The Wind thundered in my heart.
“The life of a loved one,” he mused, looking me up and down in a way I found oddly possessive. “Well, now, I can do that for you, Miss Shepherd.”
“Liz,” I mumbled as I glanced around the weird shop. Labyrinthine, tall stacks of weird collectibles teetered on every surface. Behind his counter, a wooden shelf nestled against the wall, filled with thousands of jars.
Things moved in more than one of them.
“If that’s what a young lady like you needs, then we can talk.”
“What do you want from me?” I kept trying to steal a peek around. How big was this place? It seemed huge.
“Little.” He gave me the widest smile I’d ever seen, almost as if his teeth pushed through his pale, paper-thin skin. “Pray tell, how old is your dear mother?”
“Forty- two.” I tried to hold his gaze, but found I couldn’t. His green eyes burned into me.
“That means she should have made it…” He reached beneath his counter, pulling out a well-worn book. As he flipped, dust poofed into the air. “…approximately another twenty-five years, on the mean.”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “I mean, I dunno exactly, but that seems right.”
“Twenty-five years.” His smile, impossibly, grew even wider. “I can give you that.” He put the book away, then pulled an old-fashioned pocket watch from his vest. He tinkered with the thing for a moment, smiling.
“What’s the catch?” I’d fumbled around the weird side of the world for a few years. Nothing came easily and never free, I knew that much.
“One favor for every year of her life.” He gave me a hard look through steel blue eyes. “Nonnegotiable. First favor due in forty-five days.”
“How fairy-tale of you,” I snarked.
“I find this arrangement quite reasonable.” He glanced down at the watch and then back at me. “Most of your time would be your own, of course.”
“And she’ll live? Twenty-five more years?”
“That’s our agreement: She lives, and in forty- five days, you come to me.” He paused. “Once you complete your first task, your bondage will be complete.”
“After I know she doesn’t die.” I nodded.
“Once struck, my bargain holds.” Mister Lorne eyed me shrewdly. “In forty-five days, you come here and keep yours.”
“Agreed.” I nodded and held out my hand. As he shook it, I found I could hold his black gaze.
The world trembled, just a bit.
Of course, I hadn’t held up my end of his twisted little pact. Not that he’d dealt me straight either. In fact, I could say he’d screwed me first.
Perhaps it was time to make use of Simon’s lessons after all. I had to get away.
Attempting to ignore the hair ripping from my scalp, I closed my eyes and struggled to focus. Typically, I needed little more than a few deep breaths to gain concentration, but then, typically, I wasn’t being dragged down some mutant hallway of a madhouse by my dark locks.
What if it doesn’t work? Panic burned in my mind. This place wasn’t exactly Connecticut anymore.
I breathed, calm.
Elation.
Echoes of singing Wind thrummed through my body, to tease and tickle at my mind. It blew like cascading eternity, the never-ending breath of the world.
It sang into infinity, far more than I could ever grasp. Regardless of the vastness of that power, when I drew on it, I always felt like I was trying to drink the ocean through a straw.
But that had always been enough.
Even as my poor head burned with agony, I couldn’t help a fierce smile. The Wind came to me, falling into my mind as certainly as a tool might into my hand.
“Now.” I clenched my teeth, while holding the Wind in place.
I summoned to mind the Empyrean Seals Simon had taught me. For hours and hours, I’d drilled on them, calling the intricate sigils to mind while running, while sparring, while exhausted. I knew them better than I knew my own breath, better than my own nature.
I released the Wind.
The hallway exploded with a tempest of sharpened cold. Its power burst into the eldritch sigils in my mind, and they exploded into existence, an azure fire. I felt the Wind hover in front of me and coalesce into shape through some alchemy I might never comprehend.
Light from the Empyrean Seal of Oeriim unfurled, brilliant and scalding with furious wrath.
The brute banged into the solid yet completely imperceptible wall.
“Ha!” Elation leapt through me, yet I held my focus. Wind hated being in one shape; I knew from experience that the moment I relaxed, the barrier would fall away.
“Clever Jack has no fingers.” Those mirrored eyes squinted down at me, as if it understood what I’d done. And, just as it had before, slammed me back to the floor, knocking the breath from me.
The sudden pain broke my concentration. My ring of mystical runes pulsed brilliant cobalt and faded.
The hall dimmed as the wall of Wind fell away. Again I was treated to a peek at those blood-flecked skater shoes.
Those damned shoes, I noted from my daze. I hated the style. Marketed for athletic types but far too short for good ankle support—
That’s it! I blinked at the thought and smiled.
Completely unaware I’d plotted its undoing, the creature pulled me up and peered at my face for a moment before it smashed me to the ground again.
Air exploded from my lungs.
“Totally unfair,” I wheezed, not glancing up. I needed to take my shot now, before the thing knocked me unconscious.
“Little Sue has broken eyes,” the creature muttered, as if that explained everything.
“Does she?” Wriggling sideways, I swung. My strike buried the small blade in its ankle.
Liz hits! Elation burned through me. Roll for damage…
Before the cadaverous thing could move, I sawed savagely at its Achilles tendon.
“You cannot drink the Master’s wine.” Just a hint of alarm gilded the goon’s words as it swiped down to strike me.
A wet POP gave voice to the visceral sensation of slicing the tendon.
I pulled with all my might and grunted when the knife tore free to spray blood across the floor.
With an inhuman groan, the creature stumbled sideways.
“Balance check!” I gritted my teeth, growled, and pushed myself at him with all the strength in my legs. I bowled into the creature, which couldn’t stand without its Achilles tendon.
We both went down, spilling and rolling over each other.
It might not feel pain, but physics still applied.
The moment its grubby fingers released my hair, I pushed myself to one side. Forcibly relaxing, I reached for the echo of Wind that lay within my heart. That eternal thunderstorm awaited me there, a tempest of beauty and furious wrath.
The instant the fierceness touched me, I called the Empyrean Seal of Oeriim again. It blossomed into a whirling circle of blazing blue around me, and the Wind thundered into form.
Lorne’s creature lunged up, pushing off with its one good leg, only to clothesline itself on this new invisible wall.
“Freedom!” I caroled as I rolled to my feet and leveled the hardest kick I could muster at the creepy thing’s face.
That was stupid.
It swiped at me, trying for a grab. I pulled the kick, realizing I’d almost been caught again, and it missed.
Gleefully, I leapt past the broken thing and ran.
It swiped again, this time catching the cuff of my jeans. For a moment I stumbled, but with a rip, I jerked away at last.
“Tell Lorne the deal’s off! He did me wrong, and we’re through!” I almost spat at it but decided that might be too much. I probably would see the wretch later, after all.
“You shall know.” The emaciated cretin lunged for me again.
I dodged well out of reach. “I mean it. If I see that creep again, I’ll shoot him in the face!” I threatened, cognizant of the fact that I’d never touched a gun.
“Memory is sharp,” the bastard grumbled.
“I’ll assume you’ll deliver my message.” I turned and broke into a lope.
Before me, the once emergency exit door waited. I took a breath, gained speed, and leaned into my run, rolling my right shoulder forward.
Strength check, I thought with a grimace just before I struck the door.
It shattered beneath me, every bit as weak as it had looked. Along with the splintering of wood, that ear-rending CRACK came again, like gargantuan stones slamming together in my mind. For less than a second, I felt as if I pushed against something, an invisible barrier that stretched as I hurled myself through the doorway.
Then—
CRACK.
I burst outside into unyielding sun and wind that smelled like late summer.
With every bit of grace and dexterity I’d gleaned from freerunning and Ms. Lexel’s gymnastics class, I tumbled like a drunken sheep onto the unyielding concrete of the parking lot. The brilliant light of midday blinded me as I rolled sideways and crab-walked backward, away from the emergency exit door.
Frantically, I peered into the darkened maw of the hallway.
The silver-eyed creature still limped toward me, and dire madness seeped from its eyes. Its lips moved, pronouncing some horrible, nonsensical judgment I couldn’t hear.
“No,” I whispered, a plea wrought with terror.
As if brought by a sudden storm, Wind burst around me, cold as winter. It caught the careening door, which swung heavily closed.
The metal door clicked loudly as it latched.
Silence.
“Move it, Liz,” I breathed, my blue eyes wide. I stared at the door, expecting the inhuman creature to burst through at any second.
My nose still bled; my freshly skinned hand stung. Yet for a long moment, I couldn’t move, held fast by the thought that my pursuer would burst through that door.
A bird chirped, somewhere behind me. The sun shone. Leaves rustled behind me.
The motel still looked skeezy, but I sat in a brilliant autumn day in New Canaan.
“Liz realized that she needed to get going. She stood up.” I pushed myself up as I narrated, the old habit putting me another step removed from the horror. When I slid my hand into my pocket to replace my knife, I found something else. Pulling it free, I stared at my room key, complete with green plastic key chain and gold letters.
“Screw that noise.” No way would I go back inside and return that. I hurled the key deep into the parking lot. “Time to leave.” I jogged around the side of the motel, where I saw my Valkyrie, ready and waiting.
That had been a lucky break. What if my creepy-ass friend had come looking for me while in the middle of packing? If I’d needed to go back inside to get my clothes and game books…
“Nope.” I frowned at the thought, certain any other situation might have ended poorly. Now that my message was sent, I only had to run.
If I could just get far away from ol’ silver eyes, I should be safe.
“For now, at least,” I muttered and threw a leg over the Valkyrie.
Running always worked. Though, it was likely a temporary solution this time. Mister Lorne wouldn’t be inclined to let things go, but I had a plan.
I’d make my way to New York, hole up with Dad for a few weeks, and get Simon in on this little problem.
That should buy some time.
Simon Girard was a man who understood problems. He’d take care of things.
I fired up the bike and began to pull out.
A black sedan with tinted windows pulled off the highway, cut in front of me, and forced me to pull up short or get creamed.
“Hey! Thanks a lot!” I gestured politely at the sedan.
The man behind the wheel looked like the last person I would expect in a place like this. Nice suit, dark glasses, handsome in a square-jawed kind of way. His head turned to stare at me, unreadable behind the specs.
“I can’t imagine you need to bring your lady friend to a place like this, buddy,” I muttered.
On the passenger side sat an elegant blonde woman, but, unlike the man, she didn’t look at me. Instead she stared into the space in front of her and gestured with just the tips of her fingers.
Weir— Before I’d even finished the thought, tiny slivers of ice swam in my blood. The dark suit, the intent gaze…
“No way,” I breathed. Those razored slivers of ice rushed through my veins.
Could that be one of the Silent Gentlemen?
The man nodded at me, a slow, cold acknowledgment. An uncomfortable, buzzing sensation accompanied that gaze, and the woman turned toward me as well.
The buzz in my skull increased, the peculiar sensation not unlike the pins and needles of a limb falling asleep.
Simon had told me about the Gentlemen, terrifyingly inhuman creatures who wore human faces. They hunted folks such as myself, people who had odd little… knacks. Through technology far beyond anything we could understand, they had a means of detecting tiny shifts in reality, and they had no patience for such antics.
They black-bagged people like me. They vanished us. Once the Gentlemen had you, there was no coming back.
“Fuck,” I whispered, turning away. This was exactly the reason I had wanted to avoid shaping the Wind! How had they gotten here so quickly?
As he pulled in, the creature’s gaze met mine. From behind those glasses, I couldn’t exactly make out much about him, but I didn’t suppose it mattered.
I knew what he—it—was. Just seeing it here meant I’d overdone things.
Somehow, they’d found me. I’d shaped the Wind too much or they’d felt something ripple when Lorne’s goon came for me. Simon had spent over two weeks cautioning me about the creatures and now—
Not what I needed.
“Time to go, Liz.”
Without waiting until they passed, I pulled the bike onto the Connecticut highway. Immediately, I dropped the hammer and tore down the asphalt.
I didn’t have time to worry about silver-eyed miscreants or silent creeps looking to put a black bag over my head. I had miles to go, state lines to cross, and an appointment to keep.
Introducing the Party
September 26, 1997
New York, New York
Days and miles later, my malignant stalker and our dalliance at the flophouse had been all but forgotten.
I had a new problem, one involving the undead.
“I don’t know if you’re quite the lady for the job.” Rehl, a goateed man with a shaved head, shifted in his seat, seeming a bit uncomfortable.
“I’m the only lady for the job.” I smiled grimly. “You don’t have a lot of choices, and you know it.”
“Oh, that’s good.” The young man sitting to my left gave me a quirky smile and pushed his glasses into place. “Tell ’im.”
“What do you know about my choices?” Rehl toyed with the foot-long beaded braid that sprouted from his goatee. “I don’t like it when strangers know too much about town business.”
“I know you and yours are missing some children, Sheriff.” I leaned back in my seat. “If it weren’t the natives, and they weren’t taken by—”
“I figure you’d better be on the next train outta here, Miss Lawson.” He reached into a bag of chips, rustling it as he thought. “I think maybe you don’t know what you’re in for.”
“—the vampyres,” I continued. “You know they’re here, Sheriff.” I met his gaze, as if he weren’t a foot and a half taller than I was.
“Shit. You did it now.” Rehl leaned forward and flipped through a notebook. “Roll diplomacy/social interaction, Liz.”
“Wonderful.” Alicia drummed her nails on the table between us.
“Easy,” I crow
ed, tossed my dice, and looked at the result. “One!”
“One?” Baxter lamented.
“My dice are cursed,” I mumbled.
“The Sheriff looks at you strangely, and you see the crimson glint in his eye. As you watch, his face elongates, becoming thin, almost gaunt in the firelight from his hearth.”
“I knew it!” I grinned at Baxter and Alicia, my tablemates. “I knew he was one of them!”
“How?” Rehl raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“You named him Sheriff Cruor!” Alicia rolled her hazel eyes. “You act like you’re the only person who knows what words mean.”
“Sheriff Cruor lunges at you, moving inhumanly fast.” Rehl studied his notes. “Roll initiative, Liz.”
“I hate Weird West,” I teased and scooped up my dice. “It’s always supernatural monsters versus me and my decrepit six shooters.”
“You don’t think cowboys have a chance versus otherworldly beasties?” Baxter asked.
“No. It’s hardly fair.” I rolled.
This was the second day of this year’s CONsortium, the first convention my dad had ever taken me to, back when we lived together in the city. He loved running games, although honestly, my father’s love for puzzles and codes meant that he had to dumb down his campaigns a bit when I was a kid.
I’d made the trip to the con since I was sixteen. The ignorant jack-asses at the table were the same idiots I played with every year, though typically Alicia served as game master.
Just now, CONsortium might be the perfect distraction. Well over a week had passed since New Canaan, and my mind had scrambled the entire way here.
How did Lorne’s goon find me so quickly? I’d intended to stay ahead of it long enough for Simon to possibly help me with my Mister Lorne problem. But if it had found me that quickly once, what was to stop it from coming again?
“You missed?” Baxter sat back in his seat and massaged the back of his neck. “How did you miss from that close?”
“Apparently my dice hate me.” I scowled. “It’d be nice if I had some back up.”
“You were just disparaging the natives when you spoke to Sheriff McFangy!” Alicia growled and shook back thick auburn locks. “I can’t see why the shaman would help you.”