Magic Brew

by T. Rae Mitchell

  That hurts.

  Chuckling, Moldark reaches down and pulls the thick mist away from my neck and chest. The icy grip on my frozen vocal chords melts. Coughing on the bile burning in my throat, I rush straight into parley. “I have connections. If you let my gang go, I can bring you a higher bid. Probably twice as much,” I say, certain he’ll take the deal the Mechs passed on.

  “Money is for the living. I traffic in death,” Moldark says. “Stealing you and your friends out from under the warlocks is all I’m interested in. They’ve been poaching prime strays like you off my streets for too long. Especially Maddox. His cherry picking days are over.”

  What a rip. Doesn’t anybody parley anymore? “If you’re not going to turn us over, what do you need us for?”

  “I’m going to bring you into the fold,” the necromancer says as he throws his arms out wide. “Look around, we’re all one big happy family here.”

  I glance at all the hateful faces staring back at me.

  Moldark cocks his head to one side. “Not to worry. You’ll find life as a Nekro satisfying, if nothing else. Aren’t you tired of running, Edge? You have to know it’ll never end. You’re marked. You’ll always be hunted for what you are. Death will save you from all that. They’ll have no more use for you.”

  Bastard, he’s using everything Booker knows about me. My heart slams in my ribs, gunning the crystal to life.

  Moldark’s yellow gaze drops to the lightning storm shooting from my chest. “Oh, what have we here? I think I’ll take that,” he says, digging his fingers in my chest.

  Pain stabs into me. A terrible pulling sensation has me seeing stars and crying out. He’s using his dark magic to pry the crystal straight from the bone. Stealing my birthright.

  Fury overrides the pain. “The crystal’s mine, maggot meat,” I growl.

  A surge of electricity crashes into Moldark’s magic. Lightning crackles over my skin, scorching the paralyzing mist from the rest of my body, freeing me from its draining clutch.

  Moldark staggers back, his fingertips burned.

  Not sure what just happened, but I feel a lot bigger all of a sudden. Not physically. Energetically. I’m picking up on so much more, like I’ve got eyes everywhere. Reminds me of when I had my Djinn powers, but so much stronger.

  The power swells, thrashing inside me like a hurricane, begging to be released. Fixing my sights on the necromancer, I open the floodgates.

  A shining figure lands behind him. When I see it’s Anguish, I clamp down on the energy. The angel’s completely changed. Brilliant streams of light pour off its face, clothes and wings.

  Moldark rears around to face Anguish. “What foulness is this?” he growls, shrinking from the light.

  Whoa, he sees the angel. I shouldn’t be surprised. Necromancers need the Sight to control all those nasty-assed spirits they love playing with.

  I nod at Anguish. “What’s with the glow in the dark?”

  The angel turns to me. “My grace has been restored to its former glory. I am now free to leave this Hell and climb the celestial heights into the Heaven of Heavens.”

  “Guess you’ll be buggin’ out of here then.”

  “Yes. My work with you has restored Heaven’s trust in me.”

  “Your work with me?” I say, thinking there was very little.

  “Have I not helped you unify your powers and transcend your limitations?”

  “Not sure I’d go that far,” I say, glancing at Moldark nervously.

  During our little chitchat, the necromancer’s been conjuring up a green, hazy vortex filled with ghostly faces. They’ve fixed the black pits of their eyes on Anguish and screaming at the angel like the criminally insane.

  Moldark flings the deranged spirits at Anguish, swallowing the angel within the churning cyclone.

  Christ, I wasn’t expecting that. My pulse jumps, goosing the crystalline energy back into overdrive. I can’t contain it. The power explodes, casting upward like a net of flashing silver. Riding the energy with my senses, I dive inside the vortex, where the screeching, disembodied heads are tormenting the angel.

  Anguish’s light dims to a pale glow. Why the hell isn’t the angel fighting back?

  “I’m being punished for casting my sights on salvation,” Anguish moans in response.

  Pulling my awareness back a bit, I check on the necromancer. His eyes have gone white as he focuses everything he’s got into the roiling green haze surrounding Anguish. Clearly, he’s underestimated me. Moldark’s going on what Booker witnessed before Maddox killed him. He doesn’t know my power, because Booker never saw me whomp on the Carnies, the Black Widows and the Mechs. He must think the angel’s his biggest threat.

  All the better for me. Time for a sucker punch.

  Or maybe not.

  The Nekros are all eyeing me. They’ve drawn back from the lightning shooting off me, but not Booker. He’s slinking forward with a greedy gleam in his yellow eyes. Reaching out with one hand, he says, “Furantur lux. Ponunt lumina nocte tuli.”

  My Latin’s limited, but it sounds like he’s trying to steal my light. I shake my head at him. “Don’t be crossin’ swords with me, bro. You can’t win.”

  Repeating the incantation, Booker flings his arms at me, both of us expecting something to happen. Nothing does. He stops to stare at his hands, muttering the incantation over and over. Lifting his gaze, he charges at me, snarling like a rabid dog.

  I knock him down with a solid punch to the gut. He smacks into a tombstone, dazed and confused. “Stay down,” I tell him, my throat tight with grief. If only he’d died the true death. Seeing him reduced to a walking corpse with no power other than the rage he’s filled with is too much.

  Anguish wails from inside the vortex.

  Pressing my awareness back into the gloom, I slam into a wall of pure, concentrated evil. Lurking at the very center of Moldark’s vortex is a group of demons. I’ve seen my fair share of gross, but these guys are hideous. The tops of their heads are cut off. Gray runny brain matter oozes from their open skulls, dripping down over vicious fangs.

  Not exactly your everyday demons. Leave it to a necromancer to dig up heavyweights like these from the big down under.

  “Edge, leave before the Prince of Darkness sets his minions on you. They’ll tempt you into violence. You must resist, lest you risk the Dark path and undo all my good work.”

  Ignoring the angel’s warning, I push forward, pouring my will into the power crackling off the crystal. This is a kill that’s justified.

  “No!” Anguish cries out. “Forcing the power is not the way. Surrender your will to it.”

  The demons emerge from out of the green murk. The one in front stares at me with two eyeballs pinched between its clawed fingers. The others close in around me, their talons slashing into my awareness, ripping my senses apart. Chaos and pain overtake me. They’re tearing my soul to shreds.

  A blinding flash of white light drives me back to the edge of the vortex. Anguish must’ve used what little was left to blast me from the demons’ reach.

  Gathering my bruised senses about me, I press back in, searching for Anguish. Seeing a pale light in the gloom, I push toward it. The angel’s battling the demons. Anguish is putting up a good fight, throwing the demons off. But they keep coming, biting and clawing at the angel. One of Anguish’s wings is broken and hanging at an awful angle.

  I have to help.

  “Stay back,” Anguish whispers weakly in my mind. “Turn away. Allow me to make this sacrifice so that you may live to one day meet your mother and tell her I kept my promise.”

  Anguish falls to one knee and the demons swarm, dragging the angel’s battered body into the dark mists they came from.

  My awareness slams back inside my body. Grief crashes in. Anguish should’ve known better than to come near a necromancer. Why didn’t I tell the angel to scram as soon as I saw Moldark’s reaction to the angel?

  I can’t take anymore misery. Grief for Nyx, Booker, Consta
ntine, Justice, Fletcher and now my guardian angel, it’s all too much. The weight of it’s so heavy I can hardly move a muscle.

  Moldark laughs as he stares into the shrinking vortex. “Meddling angel. Good riddance.”

  Fury burns through the knifing ache in my heart, and a surprising calm comes over me. What was it the Highborn girl said to me? Anger is justified and fine as long as you allow your heart to take the lead. That’s where you’ll find your defense and protection.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I zero in on the crystal. Up until now, I haven’t looked inside. There must be more to it than these random explosions of energy.

  As I sink my awareness down inside the crystal, something unlocks. A tidal wave of information smashes into me, flooding my vision with a blur of thousands of Sidhe symbols–each one carrying the ancient knowledge of a mighty race. Eons of history sweep before me in the blink of an eye, waking me up to who I am and what I come from.

  And how to free my Djinn fire.

  All it takes is a thought and my core heats up with the violet flame. The fire’s mine again–stronger than ever–fed by a stream of electricity shooting from the crystal. The two forces are joined into one.

  Yanking the sleeve of my jacket back, I check for Maddox’s backstabbing ward. It’s gone, like it was never there. The skin that burned around the ward is healed. I’m itching to dive into the fire for a test drive, but first things first.

  I fix my gaze on the necromancer. Instinct, like I’ve never known before kicks in. With a wave of my hand, the air distorts, rippling toward him, slowing his movements. What’s left of Moldark’s noxious cloud of demonic energy chugs to a near stop.

  Sweet. I just slowed time to a snail’s crawl. I could literally run circles around the asshole if I wanted to. But I don’t. Instead, I allow a blazing tangle of electricity to form in the palm of my hand. Then with a flick of my wrist, I let go, trusting the intelligence behind the power to do its thing.

  A savage crackle splits the air and a bolt of silver-blue lighting strikes Moldark. The necromancer’s back arches, his arms thrusting to either side as the lightning drills into him. Roaring with pain, Moldark bursts into a column of flames. His decayed matter combusts into smoldering red embers, then falls to ash and blows away. All that’s left is a figure composed of black smoke, the head and arms shot through with green lances of phantom light.

  Would’ve preferred seeing him fried to nothing, but necromancers don’t really die. They know too well how to cheat death.

  Moldark’s smoky form flows into the deepest shadows of the cemetery and disappears. Seeing their master defeated, the Nekros scatter in all directions. Booker scrambles to his feet, throws me a venomous look then runs up over the hill. It kills me to seem him like this, but it’s out of my hands. I can’t do jack for him. He’s lost to us. I just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much.

  The withering mist lifts off Sienna, Hurley and Knox. As they start to come out it, I reach for the Djinn fire I’ve been jonesin’ for all night. The violet flame consumes me. My body falls away in an instant, and I’m blazing through space.

  Oh yeah, this is more like it! All barriers are down. I can go anywhere.

  Or I could stay loose like this–let myself turn to stardust. That used to scare the hell out of me. Not anymore. Losing myself to the stars means losing this stabbing grief. I want to dodge the pain so bad, but I can’t go into escape mode just yet. I have unfinished business.

  Turning my attention to the cemetery, I shoot back with shocking speed, striking the ground in a burst of smoke and lightning.

  Sienna struggles to her feet and takes a few steps toward me. I like the way she’s looking at me. That fascination she had for me when we first met is back in her eyes.

  Hope burbles up in me, watering down some of the heartache.

  “Damn, Edge!” Hurley yells, his bruised face pale as he staggers in place. “Douchebag move! We thought you bailed on us.”

  Holding onto a tombstone for support, Knox shakes his head. “If I wasn’t so frickin’ weak right now, I’d pound your ass.” He shoves a smoke in his mouth, frowning at me as he lights up. “See you’ve got your flojo back. Guess that makes you king of the hill now.”

  “Maybe,” I say as I stare off into space. But the real question is, do I want to rule in this hellhole?

  28

  Something Wicked This Way Comes

  A SILVER LIGHT OPENS at the end of the portal, pulling me faster and faster through a spinning vortex of starlight. By the time I reach the other side, there’s no controlling the speed as I shoot out the other side. I hit the beach face first, eating sand as I slide to a stop.

  Spitting the grit from my mouth I lift my head and look around. The first thing I see is the water. For a minute I think I’m in the wrong place. I’ve never seen the ocean without the Wall. The barrier has always sat a few miles offshore, a deadly mass of swirling magic stretched across the horizon. Something I barely ever noticed because it was part of the scenery.

  I can hardly believe it’s gone. Talk about a game changer.

  I glance back at the portal, checking for Sienna, Hurley and Knox. The bright circle of spokes and Sidhe symbols are dissolving. I toss a small amount of energy at it, revving the portal back up to make sure it holds. Conjuring the portal was a cakewalk. All I had to do was picture one that would let us blow past every roadblock between here and the cemetery. The Sidhe symbols did the rest. That’s something I can get used to.

  Feels damn good being back on home turf, where the warm air blowing off the waves is at least fresh and clean. The best place for a new start, a place to focus on saving Sienna from a life as a blood-sucking fiend. I know. Call me an eternal optimist.

  Knox hurtles past me, landing hard on his back with a groan. Hurley sails in, landing on him full frontal. They bump faces like they’re slippin’ the tongue.

  “You tryin’ to get brokeback with me?” Knox yells as he throws Hurley to one side like a sack of potatoes.

  Hurley scrambles to his feet, his face red. “Have a cow, why don’t ya?” he growls.

  Chuckling, I move to stand up, only to be knocked onto my back by Sienna. Her long hair falls forward, blocking us from the rest of the world. For a few seconds, the only movement is the rise and fall of her soft twins against my chest. I haven’t been this close to her since she was first bitten. Lost in the feel of her body on mine, I slide my hands up under her blouse, touching the smooth skin of her back. “Damn, girl. You make me so hard,” I whisper.

  The faintest hiss escapes past her lips as she smiles. Hungrily.

  My stomach winds into a tight coil. Gripping her arms, I push her off.

  Landing on all fours, she glares at me. “Why can’t you accept me this way?”

  “Hmm, let’s see. Maybe because I’m just a bag of blood to you?” I say, jumping to my feet.

  She stands up and moves toward me, slowly, seductively. “Can’t you see I want you as much as you want me?”

  “We don’t have the same wants.”

  “It’s not about the blood.” Her expression turns confused. “I really do have feelings for you. I don’t know why, but I’ve been drawn to you from the second we met.”

  My guard goes down again. “Me too. It’s like I’ve been waiting for you. But I fell for the girl you were when we met. She was innocent, pure and caring. This thing you’ve become is nowhere close to that.”

  Tears of frustration fill her eyes. “Why can’t you get past this? Deep down inside, I’m still the same person.”

  “No you’re not. You’re changing into something hard and savage.”

  My words make her cringe and she looks away.

  “If you really want to be with me, you’ll take the cure.” I fish the bottle out of my pocket and toss it at her feet.

  She backs away in horror like it’s poison.

  “Please, Sienna. Drink it before it’s too late.” I look out at the ocean. That big orange glow lurking below the h
orizon won’t stay that way. Does she even know she’ll be burnt to a cinder the minute the sun rises above the waterline? It’ll be decades before her skin’s thick enough to withstand direct sunlight. If she even lives that long.

  “I can’t go back to what I used to be,” she says, shaking her head.

  She has no idea how wrong she is. “You won’t. Too much has happened for that.” I grab her by the arm, roughly pulling her close. She gives me another obstinate look. I let go, lightly trailing my knuckles down the side of her arm. “You don’t have to go home. You can have a whole new life here…with me. But not if you’re a Black Widow.”

  Something changes in her expression. A softening I haven’t seen since she was turned. Her gaze drops to the cure.

  “Give up already,” Hurley says as he pours sand from his shoe. “She’s a lost cause, man.”

  “Yeah, get real, Edge,” Knox says, sounding sleepy. He hasn’t gotten up yet. He’s still lying on his back, a cigarette between his lips as he stares up at the morning sky.

  Frowning at them both, Sienna swipes the bottle off the ground. My pulse quickens with hope.

  “Whoa,” Knox says, sitting up to look out at the water. “Am I seein’ things? The Wall’s gone!”

  “Shit, the warlocks really did it,” Hurley says, staring out at the ocean.

  “I know, it’s pretty crazy,” I mutter, distracted as I watch Sienna pull the cork out and put the bottle to her lips.

  Hurley comes in for a high five, but pulls back. “Heads up,” he says, his features thickening as he looks past me, “something wicked this way comes.”

  I turn to see what he’s looking at. Adrenaline fires through me, jolting me back into high alert. Rade Silverhand and his douchy dozen are lined up along the boardwalk in front of Luna Park. I scan their faces, looking for Maddox. He isn’t with them, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here too.

  How the hell did they sneak up on us without triggering my new and improved spidey senses? Making a quick sweep, I catch the last glimmering shreds of a concealment spell peeling away from them. Question answered.