by J M Guillen
Just above the quarrel, a scarlet flame exploded into existence. It warbled in space and sang a haunted, eldritch melody. As I backed away from it, the flame grew wider, burning on nothingness. It easily stretched taller than I stood.
“What. The. Fuck.” I turned from the man to the fire and remembered Simon’s stories of the lodge in Washington D.C. Prickles danced on the back on my neck as I put together what that meant.
More Silent Gentlemen. The assholes could Gate in reinforcements.
“Not good.” I backed up, my eyes wide. There, in the center of the fire, I saw a figure. Garret strode toward me, not even hurried.
I wanted to punch that smile off his face.
“Liz,” his voice warbled in an odd sideward manner that somehow harmonized with the echoing song from the fire. “We really need to talk.”
“Nope.” I turned from the singing fire and hurled myself down the alleyway.
“You can’t run forever!” His words no longer boiled and warbled, which made me glance over my shoulder.
Garret had stepped through that flame. He now stood in the alleyway with me.
“Try me,” I started to yell, but before I formed the first syllable of snark, Garret pulled something from the pocket he favored. While I couldn’t see it well, it looked to be small, round, and dark.
It’s the… the thing! My mind might have been babbling, but my intuition told me exactly what I looked at, the thing that caused the Silent Gentleman’s quiescence.
With the acumen of a college frat boy a bit too proud of his baseball skills, he hurled the thing toward me, as if pitching a fastball.
“No!” I whirled and held a hand up. The bracelet thundered on my wrist, and every hair on my body stood up.
Warnings about impeccable control wailed behind my mind.
A burst of angry turbulence gathered around me, and for the briefest moment, everything held still.
Then, an explosion.
A tornado’s worth of force pummeled the alleyway, all directed toward the cockiest Silent Gentleman I knew. It caught his little toy in mid-throw and shot it back toward Garret, like a bullet fired from the world’s most improbable gun.
Whatever it was pulsed as it hurtled backward.
The Wind caught Garret and knocked him flat with an ooph that I heard from the opposite end of the alleyway. He fell flat on his ass.
Maturely, I did not laugh.
The fall actually seemed fortunate for him, as the pulsing thing he had thrown shot straight over his head. I had little doubt that, Silent Gentleman or no, being struck with something at that speed might be quite detrimental if not terminal.
When the thing burst, a WHUM of thunder and trembles in reality cascaded around it. Oddly, the scarlet flame that Garret had stepped through winked out of existence.
“What the hell is that?” I huffed.
The effects looked just the same as when Simon and I had witnessed the Gentlemen summon quiescence all those years ago, to silence Simon’s clever little trick behind the dumpster.
Like rainbow ripples, waves in space.
Swiiip. This time, I heard the quarrel slice through the air and dove to one side. I landed, rolled, and faced the spook I had forgotten.
“Missed, asshole,” I snarled.
The quarrel sliced into the concrete of the alleyway and improbably buried itself in the hardened surface.
“Screw you guys,” I muttered. Turning away from Garret, I decided I needed to get while the getting was good.
After all, a whole troop of Silent Gentlemen might be about to step through a warbling portal of flame, for all I knew.
That sounded unhealthy.
Again, I ran.
4
I pushed through the wet and dirty alleyway and didn’t dare glance back. I had no doubt Mr. Garret would be after me as soon as he got up off his ass, and the thought of having a black bag over my head fueled my legs.
Again, I came out on a busy, traffic-filled street.
“Okay,” I panted and stepped sideways, so Garret wouldn’t be able to see me from the slender passage while I caught my breath. “Where? Where do I go?”
My words sounded panicky, even to me. I needed to hide, I felt certain. I might be able to outrun Mr. Otherworldly Abercrombie and Fitch, but the crossbow wielding portal monkey changed the game.
My eyes fell on the doors of a music store.
“Fair enough.” I charged toward the glass doors plastered with fliers for concerts and bands. Bright red headlines like SEE THE RAGGEDY ANDYS competed with poorly photocopied images of wanna-be rock gods with too much makeup.
Before I actually plunged inside, I glanced at the rooftops, searching for the Asset with the crossbow, then peered down the streets for the sedan.
Nothing.
Bells tinkled as I shoved inside.
“Welcome to Spin-Again.” A somewhat grungy young man stood behind the counter, sorting a stack of records that looked as if they came from 1973.
“Hey.” I glanced over my shoulder as the door closed.
“Let me know if I can help you find your groove.” His voice sounded like he had a two pack a day habit.
“Sure.” I glanced around quickly to mark all possible exits in the meandering store. Forcing myself to breath slower, I stared, torn between an EXIT sign over a door in the back and a stairway up to a second floor.
In the end, I opted for the stairs. I didn’t feel ready to step back outside yet.
“That’s mostly older stuff,” the young man called as I made my way to the concrete stairwell. “Have you shopped with us before?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a grin that I hoped was cute enough to distract him. “I know exactly what I want.”
“Cool.” He gave me a too eager smile. “You come talk to ol’ Saul if you need anything.”
“Sure.” I grinned then turned away, and the smile fell from my face.
The upstairs level held massive wall-to-wall shelves, filled with records of all sorts. In the corner, a small camera had been installed. Below it a poster board sign read ‘Smile! You’re on camera!’
“Not helpful,” I muttered. I took a few steps forward and trailed my fingers along racks of old records. After a few moments, I came to a small nook.
“Listening stations?” I quirked my head to the side. In the center of the nook resided several plush chairs, each with a record player and several high-end headphones next to them.
Another stairwell continued up. I peered around. I had never really been a record girl. Still, maybe they could be a good distraction while I hid—
Ding DING aling!
I froze in place at the sound of the bells on the door.
Garret? My heart thrummed in my chest.
“Welcome to Spin-Again.” I heard Saul’s smoke-roughened voice drift up from below. “Let me know if I can help you find your groove.”
No response. Sharpened silence.
I froze in place and thought about all the reasons my pursuers had been named ‘the Silent Gentlemen.’ Honestly, Garret had been the first I had even heard of who spoke.
“Can I help you with anything?” I heard the wariness in his voice, even though I thought he might not know why he needed to be careful.
“I am only shopping.” The soft, feminine voice paused. “For a record. I am shopping for a record.”
“Well, you came to the right place.” Saul’s voice relaxed, which I thought was stupid. Who walks into a record store and says ‘I am shopping for a record’?
“Thank you.” I almost couldn’t make out her quiet words, she spoke so softly. “If I happen upon a record I wish to purchase, I will bring it to you.”
“That’s how it’s done.” A touch of suspicion edged back into Saul’s tone.
I had far more than a touch.
It’s the witch. I knew it in my bones. She can track me somehow. Ice trickled through my heart at the thought.
Yet it made sense. Simon had taught me that the Silent Gentlemen k
new when someone with a special little knack made alterations to reality. The thought that it was their witches just made sense.
“And that means Liz needs to run.” I had no doubt what would happen as soon as I got too close to the witch; that droning buzz in my skull would be simply intolerable. Too much and it would knock me right out. After all, back in my hotel roo—
I stopped in place and my mind whirled.
“Wait a minute.” I had assumed that the painful static in my mind and the missing time had all been something Garret had done. But had it? Could there have been, say, an inhuman horror of a witch just outside my door?
If so, Garret might not be as otherworldly and powerful as he seemed.
“Doesn’t matter now.” I shook my head. “Game face, Liz. Think.”
I needed time. Space too, honestly. Whatever weird mojo Brunhilda down there wielded, it had some kind of spatial limitation.
“Without another thought, Liz sprinted up the stairs.” I paired the action to my narration.
The next room was almost an exact copy of the last. The air smelled a touch mustier than it had below, apparently from the dust on the shelves. A door to an office sat off to the right, and a hawk, mauled by taxidermy, glared at me from a small table near it.
Also apparent was the FIRE ESCAPE sign, which blazed with cherry red letters from the back of the room.
“Hot damn.” I grinned as I trotted toward the sign. I hadn’t wanted to step back outside—not yet—but at the moment it felt like my best option.
The narcotic buzz settled uncomfortably into the back of my skull, more a caress than the hammer it had been earlier.
Oh no. I whirled around.
The inhuman creature stood in the stairwell and stared at me with eyes as blue as river ice. Each of her hands twitched and twisted, weaving my fate on a loom I couldn’t see.
“Oh.” I took a step backward.
I needed to run; I knew I did. The fire escape would lead back to the street, and from there I could—
Could—
The creature’s eyes turned black then, as if liquid pitch flowed over them. At the same moment, she plucked an invisible string and that awful, caustic sensation fell over me like a shroud of angry hornets.
I stumbled.
No. I took a step back and drunkenly stared up at her, doing my best to seem defiant.
The tiniest whisper of a smile touched the creature’s mouth. She fixed my gaze with hers, and the droning, snarling sound redoubled.
She took a single step forward.
5
Whispers, words I couldn’t quite make out, echoed from very far away, cast over a distant, infinite chasm. I shook my head, as if buzzed by a mosquito.
A breeze touched my face.
My eyes felt heavy. I wanted nothing more than to simply collapse. The weight of everything, of every sorrow I’d ever felt, crashed over me.
A breeze coursed around me again, teased at my hair and clothes like a child trying to awaken a hungover parent.
“Wh-uut?” I complained, as slow and thick as if I pushed through a wall of cold honey.
The witch took another step forward, inhuman grace in her every motion. Every inch closer, the murmuring buzz delved deeper into the core of me. Each time she pulled at her invisible strands, a tiny discordant chime sounded within my heart.
I swayed on my feel, my limbs leaden. My eyes drifted.
And then I gasped. The air became sharp and sliced cold against my face. I staggered just a little, shaking my head.
Awareness poured into me like molten lead. I stumbled two steps back, then another.
I was almost gone. My eyes met those of the witch, only steps away.
“Oh, God!” I scrambled backward and fell flat on my ass. “No, just NO!” I gestured wildly.
The Wind answered. No Empyrean Seals, no shaping it via my will.
It simply struck.
In a slicing torrent, it cascaded forth in rivulets from my outstretched hand. The bracelet sang. The charms clinked against one another.
The Aegis of Dudael gleamed with eldritch half-light.
A tornado careened forth from me, compressed into the space of a punch. It struck the witch squarely in the chest and hurled her back down the stairs.
As she sailed away, the buzzing sensation vanished entirely.
I heard her strike the floor with a bone-wrenching, organic thud.
“Ladies?” Saul called up the stairwell. “Is everything okay?”
Um… I stared at the bracelet. That strike had been exactly like one I commonly used, like the same seal I used when directing my knives.
Only I hadn’t done the shaping.
“Terrorist!” I blurted, unable to think of anything more convincing than the idiotic reasoning I’d used earlier. Stupid it might be, but it remained fresh in my mind. “Call the cops!”
“What?” Saul didn’t seem to be the shiniest penny. “Like a bomber?”
I didn’t have time to explain my idiotic, hair-brained story. Instead, I sprinted toward the fire escape.
Maybe I could vanish before the spooky bitch found her feet.
Outside, the sun had already set. The first shadows of twilight had stolen their way across the city, made all the darker by the cloud cover overhead. I stepped out onto the iron fire escape and peered down into the alleyway below.
Where Garret awaited me.
“Hey there, Liz,” he greeted me affably, as if he hadn’t just chased me across several city blocks. “What’s new with you?”
Fuck! I glanced behind me to make certain the witch wasn’t slipping up behind me for a sneak attack. Not that I wouldn’t feel her. I bit my lip. That remained the one good thing about her witchling powers—I could feel her coming a mile away.
“I wish you’d take a moment to speak with me,” Garret continued as he strode forward. He seemed alone in the alleyway below; his crossbow-wielding buddy nowhere in sight.
“Is that really what you want? To talk?” My pulse pounded in my ears as I searched for options. I couldn’t go back—not unless I absolutely knew the witch was off the board. The nearest rooftop looked to be about twenty feet away—which might as well be a mile. The fire escape didn’t go up to the roof, which only left down.
Garret stood below, his hands in his pockets. He stared up at me, with a shit-eating smirk teasing the edge of his lips.
I was trapped.
“It is. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s true.” He didn’t take another step, did nothing to seem even a bit threatening.
“You might understand why I have a hard time believing that.” I glanced behind myself again, even though I didn’t feel the witch’s approach.
“I do.” He shook his head. “It’s ironic, you know? Usually the reputation of the Facility works in my favor.”
Keep him talking. My mind raced, sought any possible way out. Yet no matter where I looked, what I thought of, I kept coming back to the same conclusion.
Trapped.
“I get it.” He seemed almost sheepish. “You’ve probably heard a thousand stories about the big, bad Facility, and how they deal with situations like this.” He shrugged. “Yet this is different, Liz. No foolin’.”
“Right.” I couldn’t keep the sharpness from my voice. “Every person who knows about your kind has horrific stories. Innocent people taken—or killed. Black bags put over their heads before they’re vanished.”
“What if I told you those people weren’t innocent? What if I told you there is literally nothing more dangerous than the people we go after?” He seemed genuinely concerned, as if I might believe him.
Not him. It. I frowned down at Garret. It isn’t human; don’t forget that.
“What if you did?” I called. “One hundred percent of the times I’ve dealt with you, shit’s gone bad. You snuck into my hotel room; you stole my power.” I paused to gauge its response. “Now, you’re chasing me through the streets with two of your friends. That isn�
��t the behavior of someone who actually wants to be my buddy.”
“You don’t know what I’m offering you, Elizabeth.”
“Liz!” Its use of my full name only made me angrier. “And you’re right. I don’t know what you’re offering.” I paused for effect. “Because you won’t just tell me! You’d rather play the mysterious man in black. You’d rather frighten me and tell me how I have no choice.”
“You’re in danger, Liz.” Its words didn’t seem to be a threat but a simple statement of fact.
“From people like you!”
“No.” He waved one hand, seemingly exhausted. “Not from people like me.”
“Because people like you don’t put black bags over people’s heads?”
“Liz, there’s a third player.” His words dripped sincerity. “Irrats—people like you, people we’ve had our eye on—they’ve gone missing.”
“Doing your job for you?”
“Listen to me,” it pleaded. “Come down. Just talk with me.” The creature beckoned with one hand. “I’m trying to help you.”
“You’ll forgive my disbelief,” I sneered. “The very first time we spoke you told me you were going to get your way no matter what.” I shook my head. “That’s not what a friend says, Garret.”
“I understand.” It sighed. “And I wish I could take it back. You need to understand, this isn’t exactly my bailiwick.” It paused. “I’m accustomed to dealing with Irrats—with gifted people—in accordance with protocols.”
Somewhere in that sentence, maybe around the time he said the word “people,” I felt the narcotic buzz touch the back of my mind again. A soft, subtle touch, but completely unmistakable.
The witch was back in play.
Shit.
“Tell your witch to back off.” I shot at him. “That’s the kind of thing a friend might do.”
There came a pause, short but unmistakable. When Garret spoke again, his tone seemed subdued. “There.” As he spoke, the sensation faded. “Is that enough for you?”
The tingling sensation faded. It didn’t vanish, but I’d assumed that would be too much to ask. Still, it drifted down from ‘electrified thorns’ to ‘numbing icicles.’
“Well,” I raised my eyebrows, a touch surprised. “It’s a start.” Yet before I finished the sentence, I saw a silhouette slip up behind Garret. I couldn’t possibly misguess who that might be since the figure held a crossbow-like device and something glowed blue around its head.