by J. P. Rice
I tried to piece together how I had got here. The fight had broken out with the vampires, and Octavius had ordered his men to kill me. I remembered the big fight with the werewolves as I tried to escape, and then everything had gone red. This had to be a cell the werewolves used for prisoners.
Searching around for clues, I noticed brownish-red stains on my hands, and as I moved them closer to the light, I found that it was dried blood. What the hell had happened?
Another Ginger Storm had struck. I had so many types of magical blood running around my body and when they wanted to take over, they did. The dark blood could take hold of me at any time, making me a prisoner to my own actions. It happened mostly when I was cornered and scared and other times fits of anger caused them.
I’d read something in the Florida Sentinel that claimed to be the true meaning of the word hurricane (her-ri-cane). Hurricane was the true spirit of the African women who had been stolen, beaten, raped, murdered and thrown overboard the slave ships. That was why hurricanes began at the same point of exodus in Africa and hit every stop where slaves were sold. All throughout the Caribbean and up and down the coast of the southern United States.
My Ginger Storms weren’t quite on that level, but I felt a kinship with that definition of hurricane. I’d been through a lot of the same torture during my undercover experience in the Red Cavern and understood that a girl could only take so much. Only be pushed so far before she snapped. I tried to control the storms, but one thing was certain, once they started, there was no stopping them.
I had thought little of it at the time. I’d just wanted to obtain powers, but I had gone on a magical shopping spree and shunned any thought of repercussions. Now I had trouble controlling the darkness.
I picked up some dirt from the ground and mashed it into my hands. The soil had just enough moisture to sop up the crusty bloodstains.
Without warning, Mike stirred around, scaring the living shit out of me. I threw the dirt back down. He rolled onto his side, then his back. He peered around the cell and said, “Locked up with a maniac. Great.”
“I’m a maniac?” I pointed to my chest. “You’re the one with Celtic rune symbol tattoos on your wrists. I’ve only seen them on assassins.”
Mike sat up slowly and took a deep, wheezing breath. He tapped his ribs tenderly and grimaced in reaction. “Unless that was someone else back in that hallway, then yes, you are an absolute maniac. How many wolves did you kill?”
I looked over my shoulder, certain he was talking about someone else but only stacked cinderblocks met my eyes. “None that I know of.”
“Really? I can count four wolves. I stood there and watched you rip their hearts out. I don’t know how you broke through the ribcage or pulled it out, but I witnessed it with these two eyes,” he said, two fingers pointing at his eyes.
“I have a bit of a problem with rage,” I stated quietly.
“More like wrath,” he said as he put one hand on his temple and the other on his chin. He twisted his hands, cracking his neck.
“Potato, pahtahto. It’s a problem I’ve been working on.” I stood up and went to the door of the cell. I lay my face against the thin latticed bars and listened for guards. I couldn’t hear anything, but I noticed a bright ray of light in the distance.
“Well, you need to work harder. I didn’t kill any wolves, but for some reason, they thought I was with you. I’m really not trying to die because of your crazy actions.” Mike’s fingers poked through the bars and lifted himself to his feet. He held onto the metal for a few moments until he completely caught his balance.
“In fairness, they were going to kill both of us, if they could. I might have saved your life by killing some of them. They weren’t coming after us for a tickling contest. And I didn’t want to kill anyone in the first place. Why did a group of vampires show up?”
He turned to me with confusion clouding his blue eyes. “No idea. You recognize any of them?”
I slammed my eyelids shut and tried to remember the events after the storm. “Two. I saw two vampires and they were members of the Purple House. But Jonathan knew I was coming here. I didn’t tell him an exact time, but that seems odd.”
Mike flexed his fingers and hands. For some reason, they grabbed my attention and I couldn’t look away.
Still unable to avert my gaze from his mitts, he said, “It doesn’t seem that odd. Jonathan’s been going a little crazy lately. But if we are both working on his behalf, was he setting us up? Octavius should have known I was coming.”
I didn’t have a lot of people I considered friends in this world and I wasn’t ready to peg one of them as a liar. I also understood that people changed over time and kept reminding myself that he was a vampire who would chug my blood if given the chance. “Jonathan knows better than to set me up. I’m not the type of person you want to cross.”
“Do you have a better explanation, then?” he asked as he sat down on the cot and leaned his head back against the concrete wall.
I paced the length of the cell. “Give me a few minutes, Peach Fuzz. Let me clear my head. You know, if you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t even be in here.”
Mike huffed in response and sat up straight. “I’m not sure about that since you came on Jonathan’s behalf. And furthermore, you’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”
“How so?”
Mike stared at me in disbelief. “Because after you ripped out the hearts of four wolves, the rest of them wanted to kill you for some crazy reason.”
“And you stopped them?” I asked in a somber tone, almost taken aback.
“Yeah, I stopped them with my face.” He pointed to the left side of his lumpy cheek. “They became so enamored with beating me silly, that they forgot about you long enough until Caesar arrived. Caesar told them they couldn’t kill you because you were too valuable. But he let them beat the shit out of me.”
I was torn, not sure if I could believe this guy. He had no reason to lie, really. And he had cuts on his arms and face, two developing black eyes that were already puffing up, and a bloody red patch on his left sclera. Not to mention his clothes were torn and tattered. His dilated pupils stared intently at me, waiting for me to respond to his valiant story.
I looked down at him and gazed into his eyes. “If your story is true, I thank you kindly. Did they make any threats as to what they were going to do with us?”
Mike bit at the open air, apparently testing the strength of his jaw. “No. Octavius said, ‘lock them up until I decide what I want to do.’ I don’t plan on staying here long though, not sure about you.”
“What did you have in mind?” I wanted to know.
“Now you want to work together.” He smirked smugly and shook his head. He pointed toward the front of the cell. “Did you check out the wards on the cell door?”
“Yeah. They’re pretty intense. I gave up because it was making my headache worse.”
Mike shifted around on the lumpy cot, trying to get comfortable. “I need to study it some more before I can solve it. But after that, I don’t know where we are or how to get out. And I have no idea if we’re heavily guarded. Have you ever been in this pen, or know where we are?”
I looked out through the bars again but didn’t recognize anything. “No. We could be in the basement of the cabin or in some off building on the property. Or they could have transported us somewhere. It’s hard to say since I don’t know how long I was out for.”
“Me neither.” Mike paused for a second. Hesitantly, he said, “I need to ask you a question, and don’t take this the wrong way, but who the hell are you?”
Good. He didn’t know who I was. “Name is Gale Sutherland.”
I didn’t want to reveal too much. He wasn’t an enemy, per se, but you never knew who could be working against you.
Mike stood up quickly and raised his voice, “Come on with that bullshit. I heard Octavius call you June back there.”
I paused for a second, trying to come up with an excuse.
“That’s my middle name that old friends sometimes call me.”
Mike said, “Still doesn’t add up. I can see you’re plugged into the pipeline of the supernatural in Pittsburgh. I’ve been here for almost two years and I’ve never seen or heard about you.”
If he hadn’t heard about me then he hadn’t been running with the big dogs. Not to brag, but I played with fallen Gods and the top of the supernatural food chain. Perhaps this kid wasn’t as badass as I’d thought. Especially if he had taken an ass whooping from the wolves.
I stared through the bars at freedom sitting on the other side, taunting me, and explained, “I was in retirement. I know a good bit of people in Pittsburgh and I know the Celtic Gods. Before you arrived, I was the one who kept everyone safe from the monsters of the night.”
The conversation was stilted, almost guarded. As if two prizefighters were circling each other in the ring, feeling out the opponent, trying to figure out what the other was plotting. Then waiting for the opponent to make a fatal flaw. I had a feeling he didn’t want to reveal too much either, which made me question whether I could trust his answers.
A sudden glow came over his battered face and his eyes lit up. “That’s awesome. It looks like you are out of retirement now. Can we go see the Gods and tell them that you’re ready to take back over again?”
I hated to stomp on his excitement, but I had unfinished business to take care of. “What do you mean? Why would you want to stop at such a young age?”
“I’m young, but I’ve been through some serious shit already. I just want to be a family man for a while. My girl’s pregnant and we have an adopted son. I’m tired of being a fly-by dad. And the supernatural stuff never stops. It’s one thing after another.”
That was exactly why I had gone into early retirement. Unfortunately, I had no family. The chosen one had it all. I had nothing and was all alone. Trying not to sound bitter, I said, “I can understand that. That’s why I stepped away for a while. As much as I’d like to help you out, I have an unfinished mission that I need to keep myself open for.”
“Lugh’s Spear?” he asked immediately.
“No. Why would you assume that?” I scratched my neck nervously.
Mike responded, “I’ve heard a few rumors about it lately. Some people said that I would encounter some serious power players if I went on the hunt for it. So then, why are you in Pittsburgh?”
“My husband. He’s been gone for a while, and although everyone else has told me to give up, I never will. All my contacts are in Pittsburgh, so I came back to see if anyone had heard anything about him. And I will find Darabond one day. You can mark it down. But when that day arrives, I will have to leave Pittsburgh at once,” I explained.
I could feel Mike’s eyes burning holes in me, inspecting me, which I probably should have expected from someone with detective skills. We made quick eye contact, and he turned away shyly.
In a higher pitch, he said, “I’m a sucker for a good love story, so I’m really pulling for you. If there’s anything I can do to make that happen, just let me know. I want to step back from everything, but that’s a worthwhile cause.” He took a deep breath. “And this might sound forward, but it’s meant to be a compliment. You look so much like my girl that it is kind of spooky.”
I asked, “How old is she?”
“Twenty.”
I assumed I was blushing from the fiery feeling right under my cheeks. “Then I’ll definitely take it as a compliment.”
The conversation reminded me that I’d used magic. Magic made me age. What did I look like right now? I would guess I hadn’t aged much if I was comparable to a twenty-year-old. My body felt a little sore, but nothing out of the ordinary. Goibniu’s potion had restored my defiance of Father Time. But how long would it last?
“I’m still surprised that you would walk away from your duties. Where did you learn magic?” I pressed him.
Mike’s brow furrowed, and I could tell he was gauging how much to tell me. “I have a mentor named Alayna. Maybe you know her.”
Oh, I knew her all right. I hated her but remained civil when we saw each other. She used to be Queen Al from Sleepy Willow. The bitch put a curse on the land to kill all the crops and prevent any from growing again. I’d watched the citizens starve to death. Their emaciated, skeletal bodies wasting away, searching endlessly for a single grain of food. The elves who raised me starved and died.
Alayna was also buddy-buddy with my mother and it made me sick. The Celtic Gods loved her—a queen who starved her own people to settle a personal grudge—but hated me for some unknown reason. Perhaps it was because I was best friends with the Morrigan.
Mike didn’t need to know about my animus. I told him, “We know each other. Did she give you the never-ending wave lesson?”
“You mean how pure magic is like a constant flowing body that runs through everyone and only a select few can ride the wave. Yeah, she might have taught me that one,” he said, and we both laughed. He added, “Looks like you can surf pretty well from your lightning display back there.”
Unfortunately, I hadn’t been born with the ability to surf that wave. I kept the spotlight on him. “What types of magic did she teach you?”
Mike raised his eyebrows and thought for a moment. “Spellcasting. Conjuring. Elemental. Natural. To be honest, there is so much more I’d like to learn about but being the protector of the city takes up all my time. I feel like I’m using the same acts over and over again. I want to study up and build up my repertoire.”
I could understand that. Not everyone had a handicap like me concerning magic. I wasn’t the chosen one born with magical abilities. Conceived by two Gods, why couldn’t I harness magic naturally?
I had to take my magic from others. And surprisingly, the pure magic had clashed with me, yet the dark magic meshed seamlessly with my soul. The Morrigan had convinced me it was natural, but it still concerned me that I had an affinity toward dark magic.
The Morrigan had imparted some knowledge to me that allowed me to sap magic from others. She hadn’t shared that secret with anyone else and had sworn me to secrecy with the explicit threat of death, as if it were necessary. Very few beings knew how to absorb all the magic from another entity. Absorbing the magic of another was easy. Understanding how to use those skills was another story altogether.
I still didn’t have a full grasp of all the magic running around inside me. Sometimes, I could just envision something, and it would happen automatically. I’d also learned many spells, englyns and chants that accompanied some of the skills I’d absorbed.
Some days I could feel the pure and dark magic fighting against each other, battling for supremacy. It was out of my control at this point. Like my rage fit back at Octavius’s. Angry, dark blood had overpowered the good. If I could go back, I wouldn’t have taken the dark or black magic blood.
I said, “From the stories I’ve heard, you seem to be doing all right for yourself.”
Mike shrugged his shoulders and his eyes opened wide, contemplating my words. “I’ve done a lot of stuff that I look back on and still wonder how the hell I did it. These past few years have been such a whirlwind that it’s all one big blur. I’ve almost died a hundred times in the past year. But I’m still here. Maybe there’s a reason for it all.”
“If you figure it out, let me know,” I joked. “I’ve been trying to understand why I haven’t died yet either. Granted I’m immortal, but I could have easily died in a number of ways over the years.”
“Trust me. I believe it after what I saw back there. It’s a crazy game most of the time.” Mike had a veteran presence and talked like an old salt. Like he’d been doing this for decades, not just a few years. He knew his shit, despite his constant hinting that he was just a magical neophyte. All experts started out as neophytes. Mike had me torn on what to make of him.
I’d accomplished my mission. Mike had revealed a good bit about himself and I had given him barely any information about myself. All he real
ly knew was my name and that I could be a force to reckon with when I was angry. After seeing Mike up close again, I couldn’t help but think Jonathan was lying about him not being a vampire.
****
A few hours passed and I heard what sounded like a ruckus in the distance. Mike jumped up and I smelled the magic emanating from him. Flowers. How dainty.
Wild growling inside the building brought me to my feet. The commotion grew louder and nearer. Within a few seconds, the barbaric yelling ceased abruptly. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, so I prepared for the worst and called on my magic.
Had the vampires come back for round two? I pressed my face against the bars but couldn’t see anything outside the cell. Mike turned to me and we both shrugged our shoulders and waited in awkward silence.
I smelled something overpowering Mike’s fresh scent. What was it? The fruity aroma intensified by the second. Orange blossoms. No. It couldn’t be.
The outline of a large figure appeared in front of the cell. As my eyes adjusted, a golden ring mail jacket gleamed in the dull light. Tyr stood in front of the cell. My hero. My savior. Standing there in all his manly magnificence.
I heaved out a sigh of relief and joked, “You’re late for the meeting.”
Tyr’s smile gleamed in the gloomy atmosphere. “I’ve always said, better late than never. I could leave if you wish.” He gestured with his thumb and looked over his shoulder.
I smirked at him. “Since you’re here, you might as well let me out.” With Tyr’s presence grabbing my attention, I’d almost forgotten that Mike was standing next to me. Too bad nobody showed up to rescue him.
Tyr stared at the lock on the cell, trying to break the protection ward. A few moments later, he nodded and inserted the key. He turned his wrist and the clicking sound was music to my ears. He pulled the gate open and extended a powerful hand covered by a white glove.
I grabbed it and exited the nasty cell. Tyr pointed at Mike, and said, “What about this guy?”
I answered, “Don’t worry about Peach Fuzz. We can leave him here.”