Modern Pantheon: Ghost

by Grayson Barrett

  Chapter 21

  Speeding off into an illegal U-turn, I managed to keep James in sight before he turned down some random road. Making a quick retreat to the highway, he ignored a couple of stop signs, leaving me no choice to do the same.

  Leave it be, Thomas. Just hide out for a few days. Wait until the killer is caught. Then, come back and say, ‘told you so.”

  A few pieces of my car’s windshield wavered dangerously in the frame as I followed him through the intersection. Driving with equal parts anger and determination, breaking the laws of traffic like some hooligan, I kept pace with him. The blasting wind through the broken windows cooled my sweat, making me feel like an icicle, but I forced myself to drive.

  Tracking spells were easy, in theory. I always failed at them, but other mages don’t. Could James be following her? Was my wedding ring theory true?

  And what if he did find Kelly. Best case, they’d run off together and have their happy ending while the Guardians gave me the blame. Worst case, she’d thrown it off in a ditch somewhere, and he’d never find her. Thus, blame falls, once again, on me.

  So what? I asked myself. Do nothing?

  James turned into the exit only lane and approached the off ramp at dangerous speeds. So did the car behind me, I noted. Blasting down toward him, glad my car was the equivalent of an Olympic-runner, I listened to the nearly silent engine as I stomped the pedal. My phone started to ring at that moment, which was hardly a fact worth noticing since there was no way I’d rummage through my pocket, let alone talk.

  The off ramp led to another highway. The black SUV followed. Was it a Cop? Why does that car look familiar?

  We drove northbound on I-35E. I was familiar with the area, and as we drove, the area became even more familiar. The suspicion in me grew as I followed him down an exit I’d taken only yesterday. The suspicion grew into suspense as he took a few well-known side streets.

  “The hell is going on!” I said, when his car popped up the curve and through the yellow warning tape around the property.

  James Freidman slid to a stop, right atop of my triplex’s small lawn.

  I stopped behind him and quickly got out, toting my staff.

  He’d come to my house. Why the hell would he come to my house? The smoldering mess was deserted now, and none of this made sense to me.

  James stomped heavily out of his car, slamming his door hard enough to crack the windowpane. Then, with one hand held forward toward the wreckage, a golden glint sprang through the ash. Using the same spell I’d used only hours before, and from the very same wreckage, he pulled a glinting ring into his gloved hand.

  Then, James Freidman turned to me, murder in his eyes. “You...”

  I tilted my staff toward him. “I had nothing to do with–”

  “You killed my wife,” he said, his voice feral. Closing one fist tightly, he pounded his enchanted glove into his palm. I felt a concussive energy slam directly into my chest.

  While direct, force-to-body contact was lessened by my natural defenses against magic, that hardly helps when a blow like his pounds into you. Sure, my defenses prevented him from rattling my insides. It didn’t, however, do much to stop the incoming force a millimeter away from my skin. I’m immune to a direct blast of force in the same way that I’m immune to a smack from a baseball bat – that is to say, it slammed me off my feet.

  My back hit the sandy pavement and emptied my lungs of air. When I scurried around to my hands and knees, I wheezed, “Wait!”

  A new voice entered the mix. A woman’s. “James Freidman! Get on the ground, now! By order of the Imperium, I place you both under arrest.”

  I grasped for my fallen staff, but I didn’t notice that James wasn’t going for the magical assault any longer. He’d rushed bodily toward me, making me the inept matador to his bovine charge. While my hand locked onto my staff, his grasped me by the muscle in my upper shoulder. With a grip that could crush a solid block of wood, he lifted me limply into the air. I tried to take my staff along, but he slammed his foot down on it.

  A thin strand of darkness sprayed past me. I flinched at its sudden appearance, but gawked when it hurled by me and slam directly into James’ stomach. But for as menacing as the dark orb appeared, the enraged giant didn’t slow when it hit.

  His grip on my shoulder tightened. My neck and armed screamed with pain. Electrical jolts ran down my arm as he clasped a nerve. I thought that in any second, he’d rip me apart. Instead, he simply shoved me aside.

  I stumbled limply, getting my feet beneath me, but my balance fell too far in front of me to regain my footing without falling. Relatively painlessly, I rolled onto my lawn, arising awkwardly after a few seconds to turn toward James.

  He was there, staring toward the Black SUV that followed us. Not twenty feet away, stood Bree Porter. She held her slender pen of a wand held before her as it vibrated with power. “Get on the ground,” she screamed at him. “Now!”

  I could see the humanity leaving James’ mad face. Would a man like James surrender? Of course not. With his enchanted gloves clenching around marble fists, he was going to go after her. He was going to kill her. Then he was going to kill me.

  James took a step toward her, and I noted his foot left the top of my staff. I considered using that to my advantage, but realized I was still in his peripheral vision. Any spell I could cast would be obvious. Besides, even if I did get through James, I still looked guilty as hell now that he’d torn Kelly’s wedding ring from the wreckage of my house, which would mean I’d have to get away from Bree all over again.

  That is, assuming the Imperium hadn’t warranted me dangerous enough to kill on sight.

  “By order of the Imperium, surrender!” Bree shouted as James took another trollish step.

  Getting wobbly knees beneath me, I knew my only chance of survival was to get the hell out. To run and not look back.

  But how would I be able to live after letting Bree take a metaphorical bullet for me? She was perhaps the best illusionist that had ever lived, but her magic was all about avoiding fights, not participating in them.

  Thomas, run!

  Torn, I took a step back as my eyes flashed upon my staff once again. My mind wavered back to the small-time criminals Bree and I’d stopped. I remembered the kid who’d stumbled upon the rules of magic. I thought of the all-night stakeouts we’d once spent, and the conversations we’d shared.

  Run!

  Logic aside, I knew there fleeing wasn’t an option.

  My mind focused on the staff as I sprang into action. The wooden shaft was twenty feet away, well out of reach. However, when I bend down, imagining it at my side, I could feel it in my hand. The utterly complex spell involved had already been taken care of, programmed into the staff itself. When I lifted the imaginary staff, the real one at the curb rose as well. That one was only an arm’s length from James’s back.

  Grasping the invisible pole in both hands, I gave my staff a hefty swing, low through the air. I aimed for his knee. It cracked against his lower thigh. I grunted, both in effort and dismay.

  James hardly winced. Spreading his fingers, he shoved the air in front of him forward. Bree flung forcefully backwards, onto her back.

  Hardly a moment later, he spun around as I heaved my staffs – both imaginary the real one mirroring it – into another, hefty downward swing.

  James reached up and simply caught it. The imaginary one I grasped halted as well. He didn’t stop there, however. Before I had a chance to think, he used his entire weight to simply shove the staff forward and up.

  I realized I should have ended my spell as my imaginary staff suddenly pounded heavily against my ribcage. Dull pain encased my chest as I flew backwards, through a charred section of the porch. The wood chipped and splintered, ripping at my pants and back.

  And there I lay, in the wreckage of my porch. My ankle wrenched horribly to one side as I toppled backwards, and my arm lashed out to grasp at a grainy slab of wood. Dozens of tiny pai
ns spiked into my fingers and palm.

  All I could do was lie there and listen as another of Bree’s spells snap-crackled through the air. I was in no condition to fight. My hand hurt. So did my ass. My head was dazed, both from pain and exertion. The battle may have well been miles away. When I looked, my short sleeve was covered in blood and tattered near the elbow.

  Get ahold of yourself, Thomas.

  Bree yelped, and some of the haze over my head lifted. Fighting my way forward, and using my non-slivered hand to shove myself onto my knees, I witnessed James and Bree locked in an unevenly matched struggle. James had one of her slender elbows in his hands, while he simply crushed her wand in his other.

  “Hey!” I said, my voice coming out in a harsh rasp. I fought back a cough as I held my ringed hand forward.

  Bree heaved her arm away from him, but it was as hopeless as fighting against gravity. James stood back, lifting one fist. I recalled what he’d done to each of the windows of Cameron’s car, and terror struck me upon realizing he could smash in Bree’s head just about as easily.

  I imagined an imaginary staff in my hand again, but this time its end was aiming at him. Focusing on the heat of my body to power the spell, I shouted, “Ventus Pulsis!”

  The sound of a sonic boom reverberated through the street. Grass ripped out of the ground as my spell hit his and bounced downward. James Freidman, however, merely stumbled to the side. Fighting him was like fighting a bull with nothing but my fists.

  He let go of Bree and turned his angry brow toward me. I saw his fingers clench in annoyance. I watched as one fist formed, and as the other hand opened to catch it. He was all prepared to give me a potentially lethal blow. I watched as–