by K.N. Lee
“See for yourself.” Fraya’s jaw lifted in the direction of Ace. “He lives, you live. It’s simple.”
Kara’s eyes widened as four dark demons approached the artist. Drascatu!
Two of them flew overhead.
Two of them slithered on the concrete like snakes.
Her FBI sense of righteous indignation kicked in. There were good guys and bad guys. Major cases to solve. And then there were the petty thieves she couldn’t be bothered with. “I’ve got to save him? A common crook?”
“That’s the plan,” Fraya said. “Part of it, anyway.”
“But why?” Kara whined.
Fraya shrugged, her eyes starting to do her scorch-the-onlooker thing.
Kara stepped back.
“It’s what the Fates have decreed! There’s far more here than meets the eye. I’m not at liberty to say more until I learn more. Do you want to assume your destiny, or don’t you?”
“I do,” she said, picturing her lifeless form on the hospital bed. She imagined what Jaidon—the guy who bought her flowers and rubbed her feet at night—the guy who sucked up his preferences and let her do what she felt was right—what would he experience if she died? She knew the answer. He’d wish he’d taken the bullet. He’d wish she never set foot in the field. And, he’d hold himself responsible for everything. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. This blows.” So much for feeling like I accomplished something at the Valkyrie academy.
Fraya shrugged. “Deal with it.”
Ace shrank away from the Drascatu, as if he could see them.
“Here’s your sketch. It’s on the house.” He tore it from the easel and shoved it at the blonde woman.
The blonde took it, her face a study in confusion and anger. “I thought we...”
Ace backed away from her. “I’ve got to go. It’s been nice. Later!”
He took off up the street, the demons in hot pursuit.
“You’d better catch him. Your fates are entwined,” Fraya said, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Gah!” Kara took off at a sprint. Fate sucked. All she could picture was Jaidon, mourning her death and her having been too weak to say yes to a little destiny-shift. By not trying to save this sex-in-untied-sneakers guy from himself, she’d create a world of heartache—for Jaidon, for her parents, and for herself. “I hate you Fate!” She yelled and shook her fist.
“Hey,” someone shouted, as she pushed past.
“Sorry,” she muttered, pouring on the speed. She couldn’t exactly say, “Someone’s about to be eaten by Drascatu Shadespawn—you know what they are, right?”
“This won’t be easy,” Fraya called, from her now airborne position. “It’s harder than it looks.”
“I don’t care,” Kara yelled. “I’ve got to save the guy. More like I’ve got to save Jaidon.”
She raced after the demons who sped after Ace. She vowed to not let them take him. It was, after all, her new job—and the key to her own existence.
6
Kara sprinted up the Boston street toward Ace and the Drascatu chasing him, while memories of her Valkyrie training powered through her brain, as if it were yesterday.
“Wait a minute. It was,” she mumbled, as she chugged up the sidewalk. The whole thing seemed like a dream. “I don’t recall any instruction on actually vanquishing the Drascatu, though—only preventing them from taking the chosen,” she muttered, gasping to catch her breath.
She scanned her brain for any training she might have forgotten. “Drascatu, Drascatu…anything?” She shook her head, picturing getting her ass kicked by the woman with blonde ringlets, wrestling with more than a few brunettes, horsemanship, marksmanship with arrows, practicing endless drills, and other new-life-as-a-Valkyrie skills.
A strange fog wisped into the air up ahead. It moved in snaky swirls through the street, obscuring parts of the city.
Kara studied it for a few seconds. Such an odd fog. But then her gaze whipped back to Ace’s disappearing form.
Ace moved like an Olympian. He darted through an alley.
She raced after him.
He bolted up a fire-exit stairwell at the back of an old brick building.
She leaped for the stairs, which were suspended a couple of yards from the ground. She missed. Leaped again, but by then he was almost out of sight.
He scrambled across a rooftop, chased by her and the Drascatu. When he came to the edge of the roof, she thought she had him.
“Stop!” she said, through wheezing breath. Even her Valkyrie training didn’t prepare her for Ace’s athleticism.
He turned, looked at her, looked at the Drascatu and turned back to gauge the leap to the next building. With a cry, he leaped across the roof.
“Oh, gods, please don’t let me trip and die,” she shouted, following his lead. She stumbled when she landed, falling on her hands and knees. “Fuck!” She righted herself and took off in hot pursuit, her feet clambering down the stairs along the side of the building. She caught sight of his tennis shoe, as he rounded the corner. Gasping, she followed. She rounded the building.
Ace stood at a dead-end, staring up at the wall blocking his way. He whirled to face the demons.
They cornered him, moving closer and closer. They made strange bubbling noises like their lungs were full of fluid. They hissed and wheezed.
“Get the fuck away from me.” Keeping his eyes trained on them, he leaned over to pick up a broom someone had left in the alley. He waved it at them.
“Oh, no.” Kara stopped. Do I or don’t I whip out my sword?
One of the Drascatu let out a screeching scream.
The sound blasted through her head like someone was using tweezers to pull her brains out through her ear canals.
The demon seized the broomstick from Ace’s grip and swung, striking him like a big-league batter.
Ace’s head flew to the side and he stumbled against the wall.
“And there’s my answer.” She retrieved her sword from her hidden sheath and raced toward him. I’m doing this for you, Jaidon. I’ve got to save this guy so I can be saved and your heart won’t be shattered.
He shook his head, as if he were dazed.
Kara caught up to them, sword held high, its gleaming blade blazing bright.
His mouth fell open as she approached, then snapped shut in a crisp slit. “Who are you?” he shouted in her direction. “Are you one of them?”
His expression hardened as his eyes bore into hers.
She nearly stumbled backward as two of the most unforgettable blue eyes stared back at her. The intensity of his gaze made her skin ripple with gooseflesh. It was like he reached inside her and tugged on some essential part of herself she didn’t know she possessed.
“No, I...”
I what? I was sent to save you so I could save myself?
He frowned.
One of the demons, wings flapping hard, rocketed into his belly like a giant fist.
Ace doubled over, letting out a low, anguished groan. Straightening, arms poised in defense, he did a perfect roundhouse kick at the Drascatu. His foot slid straight through the demon.
“How is it you can see these things?” she asked, trying to form a strategy.
Right. Show up, whip out your sword and then...?
“How is it you’re holding a flaming sword?” he countered, ducking as a demon flew as his head.
“Touché,” she said. Gripping her sword in two hands, she held it high.
A Drascatu dive-bombed her like a giant fly.
She took a swing, and missed.
“Hey! Watch that thing,” Ace cried, jumping backward. “You almost got me.”
“You can see my sword?”
“It’s kind of hard to miss, don’t you think?”
She glanced at him before turning back to the demon. She brought the weapon down with a grunt, cleaving the demon in two, expecting to see it destroyed. Instead, a shock wave ripped through her sword. It vibrated into her hands, then shot up her forearms, lik
e lightning through a lightning rod. She cursed, nearly dropping her weapon.
With a loud pop, the one demon became two—twice as vicious from the looks of them.
They whirled like twin tornadoes, heading straight for Ace.
He cursed, ducked, and then sprinted past Kara, heading in the direction from which they’d arrived.
“Really, dude?” Kara said.
She blew out her breath and raced after them.
The demons performed a precise turnabout, like the Blue Angels, and torpedoed toward her.
She steadied herself, sword poised, and waited for the onslaught.
When they reached her, she swung, striking both.
They exploded into thousands of locusts.
She let out a cry. “Of course! Striking them seems to make them multiply, dummy! Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
Humming like huge bees, they battered every square inch of her body. They bit and nipped her skin, making welts form.
“Ace! Get back here and help me! Asshole! I was trying to save your ass!”
They swarmed around her body, biting and stinging.
She couldn’t hold them off. Her arms did nothing to shield her face. Shrieking, she flailed against them.
They were too much. All she possessed was one fine sword, not an insect bomb. Waving the sword wildly at the tiny winged demons proved as ineffectual as slapping them with a flyswatter.
Ace stood at the mouth of the alley, staring at her. He looked over his shoulder at the busy street, and then back to her. With a shrug, he turned and jogged away, fading into the fog.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Kara growled. “You’re not going to leave me to death by locusts.”
A raucous noise overhead caught her attention. She looked up.
A murder of crows perched at the edge of the building, bobbing their heads up and down, cawing at her.
“A little help might be nice,” she said, figuring it would be pointless to even ask. Angling her flaming sword like a bat, she swung. Her sword whizzed through the Drascatu locust-things. “Look, guys! A delicious meal.”
One of the crows cocked its head and stared at her.
“They might be fantastic to eat.”
The crow folded its wings and dive-bombed the locust cloud.
From what she could tell, it snapped up a few Drascatu locusts like delicious snacks.
The other crows followed, wanting to get in on the flying meal.
The Drascatu rallied, transforming back into their hideous selves. They took off in the direction Ace had gone.
The crows flew away.
“Thank you, holy crows,” Kara called.
She took off at a driving sprint, spread her wings, and powered into the cool, condensed clouds of fog, grateful for its cover. “I sure hope Fraya was right and the good people of Boston aren’t witnessing this. They’ll need psychotherapy and then some.” She thought a moment. Fraya did say most people wouldn’t see my wings or my sword. Why Ace, then?
Before she soared out of sight, she glanced down.
Below, a man with a camera stood taking pictures of Boston architecture. He looked to be mid-forties, with a paunch and a bald pate. A whistle left his lips, as he photographed the facade of a 19th century building.
Ace rounded the corner, heading for the man. He powered along the sidewalk, chased by Drascatu. “Look out!” he called.
The photographer looked up.
Ace shoved him out of the way.
The man fell with a thud. His camera clattered to the ground.
One of the Drascatu stopped. It raked his claw down the man’s back.
The man screamed and got to his knees.
The Drascatu softened and crawled inside.
The photographer jerked forward, falling on his face. When he got up, he shook his head, looking twice as large and ten times as mean. Instead of his pleasant smile, he bore a brutal sneer.
With a roar, he powered after Ace.
Kara flew like a falcon. Unable to see far ahead, she used her senses to guide her. Deciding on a shortcut through the alley ahead, she veered between the two brick buildings on her right.
A gust of wind caught her wings, propelling her backward in an awkward wobble. She righted herself and took off, sailing over the tops of the buildings instead of between them. Angling her wings, she ducked under the fog, searching for Ace.
Ace lay on his back, flailing like a wildcat.
The large male straddled him, his hands around Ace’s neck.
Ace kicked and yelled, clawing at the man’s wrists.
Kara swooped down, landing on the ground at a full sprint. Retrieving her flaming sword, she struck the guy’s back.
He twisted around and leered at her. Then, he resumed his stranglehold of Ace’s neck.
“Good gods, how do I kill these things?” She struck again.
Letting out an unearthly roar, he spun around.
She scrambled backward.
He leaped from Ace and went for her instead. She sidestepped him, grabbed Ace’s t-shirt, and hauled him to his feet. Throwing him over her shoulders, she ran, spreading her wings.
“Hey! Put me down!” Ace yelled, beating his fists against her back.
She scoffed. “Not happening. I have a mind to punch your lights out for leaving me. How’s that sound?”
Ace grew quiet.
Once she was airborne, clutching Ace’s thighs, she flew to the top of the Copley Heights building.
Rising 790 feet in the air, the building afforded a spectacular view of the city and beyond. She dropped Ace and placed her hands on her knees. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him scramble to his feet and move away from her. Hanging her head for a few seconds, she struggled to catch her breath.
“You’re...heavy...and... you...I think you bruised...my back,” she managed to say. When she lifted her gaze, her eyes widened in utter horror.
Grim-faced, Ace stood near the edge, a gun pressed to his temple.
Her hands flew up in surrender. “Don’t do it, Ace. Stop!”
“I can’t take this anymore. This is madness. Either you tell me who you are and what you are to those demons, or I’m dead and they can have me.”
This time her FBI training kicked in. “You don’t want to do that, Ace,” she soothed.
“How do you know what my name is?” His eyes showed white as he backed toward the edge, keeping the barrel of the gun poised at his head. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Okay. All right. You win. I’m staying right here.” She let her wings fold neatly along her back.
“People can’t fly. I must be hallucinating again.” His hand began to tremble.
“They also can’t see demons either.” Slowly, she lowered to a crouch, feigning casualness.
“Yeah?” His face crumpled in confusion. “So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”
“No way. No crazier than me. You and me—we’re not like ordinary people.”
He frowned, glanced over his shoulder at the faraway ground, and then looked back to Kara.
“Lower the gun, Ace. Let’s figure this out together.” She tried to keep her voice calm and steady, like she’d learned at the FBI Academy.
“You honestly don’t think I’m crazy,” he said in a flat tone, like a statement, more than a question.
“I honestly don’t. I’m struggling to deal with who I am, too.” She slowly rose.
He stiffened. His face hardened. “Give me one good reason I should trust you.”
She took a couple of steps toward him, wondering how much to reveal. “Because two days ago, I was an FBI agent. I got shot. Now, I’m some sort of freak.” She shrugged. “Life happens. We’re not always in control like we want to believe. Hand me the gun, Ace.”
His head swiveled to look at the gun in his hand. When his attention came to rest on the metal weapon, he blinked, frowning.
Turning his attention back to her, he said, “So what, exactly, is this...you, I mean. You said you wer
e an FBI agent. Now you’re a big fucking bird? How is that supposed to make me feel all warm and fuzzy and trusting?”
She shrugged, stepping closer. “Beats me. But I’d sure like to gain some perspective. I could use someone with some perspective.”
He backed away, putting one sneaker clad foot on the ledge surrounding the top of the building. “You mean someone crazy, like me.”
Shaking her head, she held out her hand, gesturing with her fingers. “The gun, Ace. Hand it over. Let’s have a chat. If, after that, you still want to off yourself, I’ll personally do the honors,” she lied. “And no, I don’t mean someone crazy. I mean someone with different abilities, like me.”
For a few seconds, his attention ping-ponged between the ground and her. Then, huffing out a sigh, he tossed the gun in her direction. It landed with a clatter, spinning toward her.
She lunged for it, bent to retrieve it, and removed the magazine. “Thank you, Ace. That took some bravery.”
“Not really. You’re the first person who’s ever not called me crazy.”
“You’re not crazy. Let’s go get something to eat and we can figure this whole thing out. Deal?”
He shrugged. “Got nothing else to do. I was going to get something once I’d finished sketching that chick on the street. It was either grab a bite to eat or kill myself.” His mood did a complete about-face. He gave her a cocky grin, complete with dimples. The dimples added soft charm to his roguish good looks.
She returned the smile. A jolt of recognition slammed into her. I know him. Just as quickly, it blew away, like the fast food wrapper in the alley on the night she’d taken the bullet. A burning hunger flooded her insides. “Who are you, Ace?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Hell, if I know. Want to see if we can figure it out together?”
He shrugged. “May as well. Since I managed to not kill myself.” He pivoted and strode toward the edge of the roof.
7
A chill shot through Kara like iced-lightning. It had nothing to do with the setting sun casting a tangerine and stormy-blue cloud haze across the city of Boston. While she had saved a man’s life, she had four more days until some mysterious full moon in which to keep him alive.