by R. L. King
Ex-zombies, I hope.
I pick up the wheel again, grip it hard, and focus on the window this time. I took a few self-defense classes when I first moved out here, and one of the things the instructor tried to drill into us was that you needed to punch or kick through your opponent, not just at them. That’s what I need to do here: throw this thing through the window.
Come on, Bron—Nick’s right. And he is: Selene has cheated me out of five years of learning magic. I will be damned if I’m going to let her take anything else from me. Including Twyla.
As my anger grows, I feel the magic flowing around me. Magic isn’t supposed to come from anger—that can take a mage in dangerous places if they let it happen too often. But right now, I’ll take whatever I can get. Before I give myself a chance to second-guess it, I visualize the pattern and fling the wheel with everything I have.
This time, it streaks from my hand and slams into the window even harder than I expected it to. There’s a loud boom and then the thick window shatters into pieces.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Nick cheers, running back over to clap me on the back, then winces because he forgot and used his injured arm. “Way to go, slugger!”
I’m actually surprised I managed to do it. I stare at the blasted window a moment in shock, but shake it off. “Come on—we need to get in there. She probably knows somebody’s here now.”
Nick hasn’t put his jacket back on yet. He uses it to clear the remaining glass out of the window frame, then drapes it over the bottom. “Let me go first. If she’s there and tries to throw any magic at me, I’ll screw it up.”
I’m about to protest—I really hate misplaced chivalry—but he’s right. “Okay. But hurry.”
He scrambles up and pulls himself through the window. I wait, heart pounding hard, until I hear his whisper from inside: “Your turn. Be careful—not sure I got all the glass.”
I actually do go to the gym occasionally, so hoisting myself up and over the frame isn’t as hard as it could be. Adrenaline is helping. I clamber over and drop to the floor on the other side.
“What now?” Nick whispers. It’s pitch dark in here, except for the dim light shining in through the broken window. “There’s no way we’re gonna find our way around in here without a flashlight or some magic.”
Once again, I wish I’d brought a flashlight with me, but it’s too late to regret it now. I can see we’re in a large room, but not large enough to be the actual soundstage. Maybe a dressing room or something. “Let me get away from you—I’ll use a light spell so we can at least see where we are.”
When he doesn’t object, I carefully creep forward across the room, trying not to trip over any of the debris on the floor. Hoping I’ve made it far enough, I raise my hand and concentrate for a second. Light flares around my hand.
“Nice!” Nick says, impressed. “See? You’re getting your mojo back.”
I snort. “Light is one of the first spells they teach you. Some kids can do it before they even start their apprenticeship. Don’t get too excited.”
“Hey, listen—it’s freakin’ magic, okay? Give me at least a couple of months of knowing this stuff is real before I start getting all jaded.”
“It’s a deal. Stay back, though. I don’t really want my fingers blowing off.”
“Or, you know, we could just use our phone lights.”
D’oh. Look at me, barely back in the game and already starting to solve every problem with magic again. “Eh, it’s okay. And we shouldn’t be too close together anyway. It’s good practice.”
With the light spell illuminating the area, I see my initial guess was probably right: we’re in some kind of makeup or wardrobe room. It’s mostly empty, with a counter along one wall lined with broken mirrors. A couple chairs are turned over, and the ripped carpet is littered with food wrappers, empty boxes, and other trash.
There’s another door ahead of us. Carefully, I creep forward, keeping some of my concentration on the spell. I won’t be able to keep it up forever—magic is like any other skill requiring practice, and I haven’t had any. Already I’m feeling a little fatigue and my hand’s shaking. We need to do this fast.
The door is unlocked. I motion for Nick to follow at a distance, then pull it open to reveal an empty hallway with no other doors. It looks like it turns a corner up ahead.
I stop, craning my ears, hoping to hear Selene’s voice, or Twyla’s—or even the sounds of a ritual in progress. Anything to tell me we’re in the right place. Despite the cannibal zombie attack, we still don’t know if Twyla’s still here. Selene could have moved her and left the reception committee behind to intercept anybody poking around.
“Keep going,” Nick says in a loud stage whisper from behind me. “Check around that corner.”
“Yeah.” I don’t like this. I make a mental note to encourage him to continue his studies with Happenstance’s people after we get out of here—if he can learn to control his glitch ability, we won’t have to creep through places twenty feet apart.
Where are Happenstance’s people, anyway? I can’t imagine they’ll ignore Nick’s call for help.
Unless they’re dealing with something worse…
Yeah. Great. Just let all that self-doubt creep right on in, Bron. That’ll help a lot.
I reach the end of the hallway. It’s lined with old, shredded movie posters, none of which I recognize. Clearly, this place has never been used to film anything the general public has heard of. As I get to the corner, I poke the light out first. When nobody attacks it or shoots anything at it, I peer around.
Still empty. The hall goes on for a short distance, then opens out into a room even larger than the one we’ve just left. I spot a grouping of shredded sofas and chairs in the middle, and what looks like a kitchenette on the other side. Break room? Probably a place for the actors and crew to hang out while they’re waiting for their calls. There’s a big, uncovered window on the same wall as the kitchenette, letting in enough light that I can douse the magic version.
I hold up a hand. “Hang on—I want to check the area with magical sight.”
Still nothing. The room appears as empty as the rest of the place. I wave Nick forward. “I don’t see anything at all.”
“Are you sure they’re here?” He appears to be doing the same thing I was: listening intently for any sounds of conversation or activity.
“I’m not sure of anything anymore.” I try not to let a growing feeling of despair creep in, but it’s getting harder. If Twyla isn’t here, I’ll have to do the ritual all over again to find her—and that’s assuming she’s not already dead.
I don’t initially see any other doors leading out of this room, but as we cross it, I spot another angled wall with a door around a corner. Once more I raise my hand to stop Nick, then move into the center of the room, face the door, and switch to magical sight.
The familiar glow I’d spotted before seeps from along the seams.
Half-cheering and half-terrified, I point at the door and nod. Whatever we’re going to find, it’s in there.
Nick joins me in the middle of the room. “You want to just…bust in there?”
“If the door’s unlocked, we can sneak. If she’s doing a ritual, she won’t be paying attention.”
Nick doesn’t look convinced, but he nods reluctantly. “Get that gun of yours out, at least. Maybe we can surprise them.”
It’s a terrible idea, but I don’t have a better one. My best hope is that if we can get Nick close enough to whatever magic Selene’s doing, he can disrupt it long enough for me to grab Twyla. I realize the chance of hurting Twyla is at least as big as getting her out, but if we do nothing she’s dead anyway.
“Let’s go,” I whisper. “Together this time.”
The door isn’t locked. The handle turns easily under my touch, and nothing squeaks when I edge the door open an inch. It’s so dark over here I can barely see Nick’s outline next to me, but I grip his shoulder and nod, then pull the do
or open.
The first, quick impression I get is that there’s a lot more light in here—and it’s a lot bigger space.
That doesn’t last long, though, because the figure standing a few feet in front of us grabs all of my attention.
A tall, familiar, dark-haired figure in a flowing gown.
Looking right at us.
“Selene…” I whisper, as every bit of liquid in my body turns to ice water.
“I’m sorry…” she murmurs.
Right before something hisses around me and I tumble to the floor, I get a look at her face.
She does look sorry.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When I wake up, my arm hurts.
That’s the first thing I notice, without opening my eyes.
The second thing, which frankly surprises the hell out of me, is that I woke up at all.
The memories flow back immediately: Selene was waiting for us. She must have known we were coming.
Why didn’t she just kill us?
I crack my eyes open, trying to see what’s going on without alerting anybody that I’m awake.
I’m lying awkwardly on my side, one arm locked in a cuff around my wrist. The other end of the cuffs is attached to a thick metal pole. My arm hurts because the chain between the cuffs isn’t very long and I’m twisted at a weird angle.
Nick is next to me, still unconscious and locked up just like I am, to the same pole with a different pair of handcuffs. At least I hope he’s only unconscious. What did Selene use on us? I remember the hiss, and wonder if it was some kind of knockout gas. Does that mean she knows about Nick’s glitch ability, and didn’t want to take us out with magic?
I twist myself around, trying to sit up. It’s not easy because Nick’s cuff around the pole is above mine. Until he sits up too, I won’t be able to get my arm up very high.
As soon as I’m halfway up, though, I forget about the cuffs, and Nick, and the pain in my arm.
There’s a ritual circle in the middle of the room.
We must be on the actual soundstage now, because the space is cavernous. Nick and I are near the wall, but out in the center of the wide-open floor I spot the familiar glow of a magical construct.
I don’t gasp, but it’s not easy. That thing is huge. It makes the little one I built in my living room, and even the larger one at Happenstance’s place, look like basic beginner stuff by comparison. It’s at least twenty feet across, bounded by a series of lit candles, dark-colored crystals in stands, and other objects I can’t make out from here. The only light in the space comes from the candles, the glow of the magic, and the skylight high above. The circle’s center is shrouded in shadow; if anything’s in there, I can’t see it. I can’t use magical sight because of Nick, so I’m limited to what I can see with mundane vision.
A figure is pacing around the far side, but stops when my handcuff chain rattles. “I see you’re awake.”
The familiar voice sends twin shots of dread and despair through me. How many times I’ve heard it throughout my life, kindly and helpful, always there with an encouraging word or a sympathetic chat.
“Selene.” I blink a couple times, trying to get a better view of the scene.
“Hello, Bron.” She continues pacing around the circle, toward me. As she gets closer, I get a better view. Tall and model-slim, she’s dressed in a dark red belted robe, her long, shiny black hair hanging loose down her back. I know her features as well as I know my own mother’s, and Mara’s: sharp cheekbones, dark slanted eyes, full lips with red lipstick. Selene has always been beautiful and she knows it, never letting anybody see her without perfect makeup, hair, and clothes.
Right now, I’d have expected her to look sly or triumphant—she’s captured us, and she’s got us right where she wants us.
But she doesn’t. Instead, her expression is stressed, reluctant—she almost looks like she doesn’t want to be here any more than I do.
“What the hell, Selene?” I call, hoping my raised, angry voice will wake Nick. “What have you done? Where’s Twyla? I know she’s here—unless you killed her already.”
Something flashes across her face, and I’d swear my words make her wince. “You don’t know what’s going on.”
From the shadows of the other side of the circle, something rumbles. Selene jerks like somebody poked her with a cattle prod.
“What was that?” I demand, still struggling to sit up. Come on, Nick—wake up!
“I…have to continue.” Selene’s voice is strong and clear, but I can’t miss the little shake in it.
Is she…afraid of something?
I narrow my eyes and squint, trying to make out what’s on the other side of the circle, but I can’t. It’s all swirling shadow.
The truth is, I don’t give a damn if Selene’s upset about something. That’s not my problem. “Continue what?” I yell. “Are you going to kill us too, like you killed Mara?”
She stops. I can’t see her go pale—the light’s not good enough for that—but her posture tells me she might have. “You know about Mara.”
Keep her talking. “Yeah. I know about Mara. I know all about what you did to her—and how you blamed it on me. Why, Selene? What did Mara ever do to you to make you do that? What did I ever do to you?”
She glares at me, but even from here I can see her heart’s not in it. “You never did anything to me. None of what happened was about you.”
“It sure as hell was!” I’m yelling now, and I don’t care. Rage wells up inside me at this woman who so thoroughly screwed up my life. And she dares now to say it wasn’t about me? “You blamed me for what happened. You switched the blood. You arranged for that…that thing to show up and tear Mara to pieces. And you told everybody it was my fault. How the hell can you say it wasn’t about me as much as it was about Mara?” My arm throbs again as I try to gesture and can’t. “And for that matter, what did Mara ever do to you? You were her friend! You were her family!”
It’s like I’m lancing some deep infection. All the anger, the hurt, the guilt and shame I’ve felt these last five years come bubbling up all at once until I don’t have any hope of stopping them. I don’t even try. “Tell me, Selene! Why did you do all of this?”
She doesn’t answer. She flinches as my words hit her, like I’m pelting her with physical missiles. When I stop speaking, she resumes her slow pace around the circle.
There is no way she’s getting away with it that easily. “No, no, no!” I yell. “You are not going to ignore me, Selene. If you’re planning to kill us, I want answers. You owe me that much for fucking up my life.”
Selene stops again. On the other side of the circle, the same rumble sounds. It’s almost like speech—like someone speaking in bass tones so deep they’re almost a physical sensation rather than words—but I can’t make out anything intelligible.
“What is that over there?” I demand. “Show me the rest of the circle, Selene. Where’s Twyla? Is she dead?”
“No…” she moans. She waves her hand and the glow around the circle intensifies. The swirling shadows in the middle streak away, revealing the center.
I gasp, my whole body growing cold. “Twy…”
Twyla is in the middle of the circle, lying on a low altar made from a broken table. She’s still dressed the same way she was when she left my apartment; the only difference is that her normally neat hair is disheveled, spread out around her like she’s a princess waiting for her prince to show up and kiss her awake. She’s not moving; I can’t tell from here if she’s breathing.
“You…bitch…” I hiss. “She’d better be alive. If you’ve killed her—”
“She’s alive,” Selene says. She’s not looking at me, but she’s not looking at Twyla, either. Behind the circle, the rumbling thing is still hidden in deep shadow.
“You know you won’t get away with this, right?” My voice rises again. “Nana knows everything. She’s looking for you. The whole family will be looking for you. Maybe you can kill all
of us here, but there won’t be a place on Earth you can hide from them. You know that, right? They’ll find you.”
Surprisingly, she bows her head. “I do know that.”
“So why are you doing this?” None of this is making sense. Why isn’t she gloating? Why isn’t she laughing at me like some kind of comic-book supervillain who’s got the hero trussed up and helpless? My gun’s gone, and I can’t do a damn thing with my feeble magic—not with Nick this close to me. I prod him with my good arm. “Tell me, Selene! You owe me that much, after all this! Just—stop what you’re doing and let us go. You can still end this.”
“No…I can’t.”
“Why not?” I jerk on the cuff again, even though I know it’s pointless. I’m not strong enough to break the chain or the pipe.
The thing in the shadows rumbles again, but this time Selene jerks upright and whirls away from it. Stress turns her normally attractive face drawn and ugly. “I can’t,” she says again. “It’s…not my decision anymore.”
“Then whose is it?”
I don’t even get the words out before the answer comes to me. “This has to do with Razakal, doesn’t it?”
This time, in the better light, I do see her go white. Her eyes get huge and she gapes at me like I’ve just turned into a hippopotamus or something. “How…do you know about—”
The rumble sounds, more ominously this time.
“Is that you over there, Razakal?” I yell, looking past Selene. “Come on out so we can see you!” I know it’s stupid to provoke it, but what does it matter? I’m dead anyway. We’re all dead if I don’t come up with something fast.
Next to me, Nick stirs and moans, but I ignore him. “Come on!” I scream. “Show yourself! You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
The shadows keep swirling, but nothing comes forward.
“Fine. Do what you want. But I still want answers.” I glare back at Selene. “What’s this ritual about? What are you going to do to Twy? The same thing you did to Mara?”
Surprisingly, Selene doesn’t seem in any hurry to get on with the ritual. It almost seems like she’s stalling. She wheels back around to face the thing in the blackness. “She has a right to know!”