by Sara Hanover
I raised my gaze to find Carter watching. His off-center cleft adds character to his looks. “So I have to ask,” he began almost apologetically, which I found funny because he’s a policeman and he has to question a lot of people every day. It’s what he does. “Do you remember what you were dreaming, what might have set that off? Trying to work a spell or something?”
I disagreed a little as I pretended to think backward. My dreams come on like a blockbuster movie, but I have no intention of revealing them. Not until I knew what Malender meant by magic’s price and the end of the world. “Nothing that I can tell you.”
Steptoe pushed himself back from the table and cleared his dishes. “Mrs. Andrews, wonderful hospitality and g’day till we meet again.” He tipped his hat and left as I thanked him for the flowers and gloves.
“Steptoe has his moments,” Brian admitted. “I’ll load the dishwasher.”
She stepped away from her counter with a smile and let him do his work after a lifted eyebrow at me, which I twitched back at her. Neither of us knew if it was the professor being polite or if his replacement was finally catching onto the current culture.
Carter cleared the table and, after licking a spot of syrup off his thumb, said, “I’ve got to report in. Light duty today, but there’s always a job to do.”
“Society meeting later?” Brian asked diffidently, but I knew the professor was inside listening like a hawk. Or whatever, ready to pounce on the answer.
“Tonight. Want to come with?” Carter’s offer stayed equally casual, but I knew better. The Society would love a chance to jump down the professor’s throat, but he would have none of it, confirmed by Brian’s snort of an answer.
“I’m off, then.” He gave Mom a light hug and waved to me. “You might get a present later in the day,” he offered as he walked out the front door.
“Ooooh.” I looked to my maternal unit. “Any idea what?”
“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell.”
“Damn. I mean, drat.” I stood up. “I need to clean my room up. I lost one of my sneakers, and I know it’s in there somewhere.”
“Thank goodness for small crises.”
I grinned as I passed her and headed for the stairs. Some time today, I would head down to the new cellar/basement so my ghostly father could offer birthday wishes, if he even remembered what day it might be. Visits were difficult as he did not always have the strength to materialize, and I simmered with the guilt that I hadn’t sprung him from his interdimensional trap yet.
And I already felt guilty enough for having lied to Carter. Had he caught it? If he had, he hadn’t shown it. Still, I didn’t like coming up with alternative facts, especially not that one.
Because the last of the nightmare struck me quite clearly, with Malender standing next to me, all his unearthly handsomeness and immortal youth, piercing jade eyes and air of divine danger. He’d said to me, after telling me that was the way the world ended, “Tessa, dear Tessa. It’s come to this, and you can’t stop it no matter what you try.”
Of course, I had to try. Then and now. And forever, if that’s what it comes down to. Because he’d also said to me, “Would you rather have Magic or Hope?”
And I’d answered, “Hope. Always hope.”
CHAPTER THREE
BAD TO THE BONE
I COULDN’T QUANTIFY what Malender showed me. The battlefield had started as a place that you would want to see in your dreams to refresh your sleeping self, you know? And then he is there after the monsters, saving me, and the sky is full of shapes, darting out of nowhere to coalesce in this immense darkling cloud—bugs and birds, of all sizes, coming together. Because I know him, I know what he’s capable of, I’m already crying and waving my arms and pleading with them to fly away before he seizes their tiny souls and life forces. It doesn’t work, and their dead bodies rain from the sky even as new recruits fly up to take their place in the formation. All this in the seconds before I plummet back to reality as I jolt awake.
So I have no idea what he has planned or what my unconscious has dreamed he might do. I propped myself up against the closet door in my bedroom and felt tears wetting my face as I sorted through the memories I wouldn’t tell Carter Phillips. It’s not enough to have a wizard or two on your side, and a lesser, if friendly, demon in Simon Steptoe. Or even a bickering clan of Iron Dwarves pledged to friendship. Not my mortal teammates no matter how athletic or loyal. Not enough against something like Malender. I don’t know what he is other than ancient or why he tolerates my walking the earth when he could have squished me once or twice already, but there you are. Maybe, like a cat, he likes to play a little first. Not that I think cats are cruel, no, but they are curious and they do like to be clever with their paws. What Malender is, no one has told me, but they’re all—wizards and demons—afraid of him. He’s ancient and powerful, and he has an agenda that none of us know. Yet.
The professor might suspect, if he were in his right mind or—come to it—body, but he doesn’t have all his faculties and won’t until we can get his ritual together and perform it, and I am frankly not looking forward to the fire gig. We almost came to it a few months ago, but then I realized that one of the relics we’d retrieved had been corrupted by an associate of Malender’s and likely to set things very, very wrong. I interrupted the ritual right as he was about to light the pyre. Brian grudgingly forgave me, admitting the ring in consideration might have made a virtual slave out of him through the greater demon it had been designed to summon. I had the feeling I still wasn’t off the hook, though. I couldn’t blame him. We’d been through a lot gathering his scattered artifacts and spells, and the stuff that had been easy enough for him to remember had already been brought in. Now he spent long hours in the ruins of his old house, sifting through water-damaged volumes and hoping he could remember more—something, anything, significant.
He made his research trips nocturnal, but the charred ruins of his home would eventually be demolished, and we needed to find a place that could hold the remnants of his books safely. We’d agreed our old house couldn’t do it because of the danger, and Aunt April who rented to us would have emphatically agreed. She was only a little older than the house, or maybe I had that backward, but they were both octogenarians and needed to be handled delicately. If anything besieged us to get at the professor’s remnant library, there would be hell to pay.
Not to mention that Aunt April had a marked gambling problem and was trying to stay clean, but little upsets drove her back to the casinos with regularity. No one wanted to be responsible for giving her an excuse.
I sighed and kicked at the bed skirt hanging from my bed. No sign of the missing sneaker. I roamed around my room, looking in corners and under objects to no avail. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, missing sneaker. I need you!”
A rustling noise answered me. I inched about, tracking the sound down to the rose bouquet given to me by Steptoe. One of the half-opened buds turned to face me.
Oh-kay. That wasn’t freaky at all. I looked at its sunset-colored petals. “I don’t suppose you know where my shoe is.”
The bloom angled toward my closet and bowed down. “Uh-huh. No fingers, so you can’t point. But you’re looking at it?” Two more blooms turned about face to join it.
My closet door stood half open, even though I’d been leaning on it before. I craned my head about to look behind it. There rested my navy-and-gray sneaker, looking quite contrite. “Gotcha!”
I picked it up and waved it at the bouquet. “Thank you.”
And then I promptly moved the flowers to the niche in the hallway where they couldn’t do a peeping tom on any of my activities unless I was sneaking downstairs. Brian came wandering along at about the same time, savoring a last strip of bacon in his fingers. He stopped to consider the bouquet. “I think those are tell-tales. They spy. I’d be careful of them if I were you.”
Suspi
cion confirmed.
I returned to my room, cleaned it, and changed the sheets on my bed because, sometimes, it just feels terrific to do something normal and mundane for a change. Never mind that I had to deactivate three lingering rainbows and one shooting star that had hidden themselves under the covers.
* * *
• • •
Because it was my birthday, my frenemy Evelyn came by and kidnapped me for a movie date with her. I like Evelyn, mostly, although her dad is aiming to be a noteworthy politician on the local scene, and her mother is one of those intense and rail-thin ladies that make me itch. The type of woman who sees if you fidget slightly over anything, and frowns. And then, you didn’t feel at all squirmy, but all of a sudden, it just crops up everywhere until you feel like you’re going to die unless you scratch away madly absolutely everywhere. I’m sure she means well. Evelyn didn’t turn out all bad even with that influence: a tall, very pale blonde with a fetish for nice clothes and shoes. She stuck by me and my mom when most of my high school treated us like we were ax murderers when my father disappeared. Because it was my birthday, she even paid for my dinner and movie, but then I found the catch.
Or rather, she did. He was waiting for us in front of the movie theater. Dean Highman, in all his scruffy bad-boyness, his eyes bright with anticipation as he saw us walk up. His jeans were torn artfully at the knees, his leather jacket vintage and faded, and his knowing grin universal with bad boys.
“Oh,” said Evelyn, as if surprised, and squeezed my arm. “You don’t mind if he joins us?”
What could I say? “Actually . . .”
“I knew you wouldn’t!” And she bridged between the two of us, her cheeks blushing, as she escorted us inside.
Conventional wisdom says, if you go to a horror movie with a friend, you go to make snide remarks and laugh at the markedly awful special effects. If you go with a boyfriend, you go to cower and hide in the safety of his arm, regardless of how bad the movie is. I pretty much sat alone and yawned while Dean comforted Evelyn and I tried not to think what kind of horror movie Malender might make. That would have scared the snot out of anyone.
We grabbed some trendy cupcakes after, and I left the two of them still squealing about the bloody end of the movie, which would surely lead to a sequel of some kind if the box office went high enough, and went home.
Dark by then, the streetlights did a little wavering dance as I walked, uncertain if they were going to stay on or black out altogether.
When the usual laws of my world look shaky, it’s a warning.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, uncertain about the scenario.
Then a bright light flared from the lamppost in front of me, and a shadow jumped into existence where there had been none, a fox prancing on its hind legs, wagging three tails behind it.
That stopped me in my tracks. There is no mistaking a magical Japanese Kitsune if you’ve ever seen one, and I had. Before. Under trying and unfortunate circumstances. The fox goddess should be a magical being for good, but the one I’d had intimate contact with had been anything but.
“No. Way.” I threw up my shield hand to let the maelstrom stone stand between me and the shadow. I didn’t know what it could do—especially since it was still covered by the glove—other than attract those into power who wanted to take it off me, and yet it seemed to repel them at the same time, as if it scared them.
The lamppost swayed a bit, back and forth, and then the shadow bled away, sucking into the maelstrom stone as if inhaled or swallowed down until every dark drop of it disappeared.
“Oh, come on! Joanna, are you there?” I checked the immediate surroundings. Smart and determined and ambitious as she had been, I felt fairly certain she was done for after her battle with Malender. On the other hand, knowing what little I know of supernatural stuff, I still had the distinct impression that death didn’t always mean one and done. Look at Gandalf. Kitsunes did not seem to be in the evil rank of beings, but Joanna had subverted the Japanese spirit. She’d followed in her father’s power-mad footsteps, and both of them had planned to take over Malender’s rule. That had definitely crossed the good intention line and things hadn’t gone well. They’d almost taken me and Evelyn with them, but my friends showed up to help, and a reluctant ally of Malender’s had changed alliances a second time . . . poor Remy . . . and things corrected themselves nicely. Except for the Malender-could-have-and-should-have-squished-me-and-didn’t quandary, and I wondered from time to time if he kept score and thought I owed him anything, because I didn’t want to be in his debt. Ever.
Searching for Joanna, her lithe frame in the shadows that still remained, I started cautiously home again, waiting for lampposts to spit her form out again. Hopefully, without her usually present samurai sword. She hadn’t worn that to classes, but that’s how I remember her best: Japanese features going sharp with the planes of a fox’s face as she transformed into the Kitsune/fox self, her skilled hands gripped about the hilt of a very sharp katana as she did.
The sidewalk tripped me. I took a stuttering step and managed to right myself before face-planting, and as humans will do, I looked back to see what had caught me. The sidewalk looked innocently back at me. So I examined the toe of my shoe, bending down to get a good look. Maybe I had peeled back the sole somehow.
That’s why the sword blade missed me.
I felt the icy slice through air over me and heard the whoosh in my ears, so I dove all the way to the ground and rolled to the side, stripping off my glove and putting my left hand palm outward to activate the maelstrom, only to see emptiness. Listening for footsteps, inhalations of breath, anything that might reveal where my attacker loomed, I moved onto the lawn and shrubbery bordering the sidewalk.
Nothing. Not a sound. Not a cricket or cicada or anything else that chirps in the early evening. It was too quiet, absolutely still. Even birds muttering their last calls before putting their heads under their wings to sleep made no noise. I put my head up to survey.
Another lamppost met my gaze. I narrowed my eyes at it, fairly certain it hadn’t been at that spot before.
“Spit her out. I’m onto you.”
Even as I spoke, the stone in my hand warmed a bit, and I could see a haze emanating from it, strictly defensive. I worried for a moment that the sword might slice at me again, cutting my limb off at the wrist, just to get at the stone. Never mind that the stone will only work for the receiver if voluntarily given, more info courtesy of Steptoe a few weeks back—what proper villain knows all the rules? Even takes the time to read them? After all, rule-breaking is part of their forte.
“Joanna. Show yourself and come after me face-to-face if you’ve the guts to do it.” Not that I wanted her angry with me, but providing motivation seemed necessary, even to a vengeful ghost. If she was a ghost. Did foxes have nine lives like cats do? If so, I could be in real trouble here.
The lamppost seemed to waver or maybe it was my eyes watering. Something in the shrubbery seemed to be seriously jacking up my sinuses. A sneeze built up behind my eyes, one of those sneezes that could rattle windows. I sniffled once or twice to try and hold it. Getting to my feet, palm still held up, I moved in a slow circle. Still no sight of whatever menaced me, but even though I wasn’t getting eerie feelings up and down my spine and whatever spidey senses I might have seemed to be failing me big time, the stone let me know I wasn’t worried about nothing. It sensed and reacted to a threat. I did a little dance to try and shake off the various twigs, leaves, and pollen that dusted me and drove my nose crazy. Anybody watching would have thought me crazed.
To add to the effect, I began backing down the sidewalk, keeping the lamppost in focus. I’d gotten close to my neighborhood, and even farther south was the block where the professor’s charred ruins stood, so I knew the territory. Which dogs would bark and which ones wouldn’t. Which windows would have curtains twitch to the side as curious people took note
of unusual disturbances. Even which doors would open warmly to me if I needed refuge because my charity meals run had taken place up and down these blocks. Not that I wanted to barge in on anyone, especially not if a samurai swordswoman came charging on my heels determined to commit mayhem. Shadows stretched and yawned about me as the sky darkened more and more and the streetlights gleamed brighter.
Not to mention that additional, now obviously not belonging and somewhat quaintly designed, lamppost that edged after me.
Magic folk desire the maelstrom stone for a number of qualities, most of which I’m unaware of and cannot trigger. I’ve not a magic bone in me. Just a rock. For the briefest of moments, I truly wished that this was not the way of things and I could point a finger, yell “Avaunt!” like the professor, and have things react spectacularly. Of course, weak as he is, Brian drops like a log every time he does it, but he still gets the job done before he goes unconscious. It takes a lot of effort.
I decided I was so over my stalker. I began to circle it. “I never thought you’d be tiresome, Joanna, but you are. So have at it, so I can go home because my mother is holding some birthday cake for me and I’m hungry. Try your worst. You won’t accomplish it, and I’m going to make you go back to wherever you came from with your three tails between your legs.”
The lamppost seemed to draw itself higher and straighter.
“That’s right,” I muttered in what I hoped was my tough voice. “I’m waiting.”
It split open with a hiss and a seven-foot-tall shadow jumped out, katana in hand.
“Now y’all are cooking with gas.” I rotated my hand and remembered what Simon had whispered to me at breakfast. It takes orders. “Shield!” and the maelstrom filled the space between it and my other hand with visible armor, making me feel like Captain America and Wonder Woman wrapped into one. I met her attack.