I complied with a toothy grin. “Not only that, but I figured out where we need to go and why.”
Oak Crown High wasn’t what most people expected to find in the core of Birmingham, an enormous school mostly contained within one expansive brick and cobblestone building on top of a small green hill, something that looked like it’d have been more at home somewhere in Europe, or as a location for shooting a Harry Potter scene. Funny how you can live in a place for years and still find things you’d never known existed.
But we weren’t here for the school itself. Luckily, as late in the day as it was, we had free rein to prowl around outside the immediate school grounds without attracting attention. “You’d think someone would have made a big fuss about so many kids going missing from one school.” I commented. Then again, maybe they had, and I just didn’t know about it. It’s not like I followed the news or anything. It was full of too much stuff exactly like this.
“It all depends,” Tamara replied, “on how rich the parents are, how panicked the school district is, and whether the police think that it being public information would mess up their investigation.”
“Which it would,” Charles chimed in from the backseat. “Not that a mundane investigation would turn up anything useful or accurate, anyway.”
We all rode together now, the potent engine of Tamara’s Hellcat roaring with an appropriately savage intensity as we sped quickly through the night. In the back, Corey and Charles both held onto the “oh shit” handles the whole way. Charles had reluctantly ceded that it made more sense for us to travel together, and now his wizarding gear filled Tamra’s trunk to the brim, while behind me he hunched his shoulders in a backseat about one size too small.
“That way,” I commented, pointing. Tamara took the turn I indicated; once again, I was the bloodhound whose supernatural nose we were following. The working theory was that far too many people had disappeared in close proximity here to cover up the feel of death or to easily shut tight the bloody, raw Window the Rawhead had made into our world. If nothing else, it was the best chance we had. I was still proud of myself for figuring it out.
“Hey, Charles.” I caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, causing the wizard to make a face and look away. “I was wondering… Is there any way to cure the Hollow Men? If it’s like a spell or an enchantment or something, can you break it?”
He sighed heavily. “I wondered how long it would be until you asked that.” Charles shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. It’s less like a spell and more like a combination of brainwashing and a lobotomy. Sure, a sort of magic was involved, but the damage is long done.”
I shuddered, making a disgusted face of my own. The answer fit my suspicions and cleared my conscience: I hadn’t been killing men who could be cured and go back to their own lives or families. But it still wasn’t the answer I’d hoped to hear.
It didn’t take long to home in on the place we needed to be. Once close to school grounds, the feeling of death Next Door stood out like a sore thumb, like a bloody beacon. We parked a block or so away and made ready to sneak onto campus.
As soon as we parked, Charles grabbed my seat release, folding me over the dash and clambering out, staff in hand. “I’m going to go ahead and scout. The energies are so strong here I’m already starting to feel the vibrations in my staff.” He ignored my glower and looked to Corey. “Get my things. I’ll be right back.”
“If you’re going, I’m going with you,” I protested, clambering out and folding the leather seat down for Corey to escape.
“No way,” he replied flatly.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why not? I can find it easier and help watch your back.”
“Seriously?” He looked me over pointedly. “You’re covered in blood and stink of death. You look like a serial killer.” He gestured at my clothes, shaking his head. “We have better places to be than in jail tonight.” He turned and walked away, muttering something about spraying me off with a hose.
He had a good point.
“Just let him go do his thing,” Tamara sighed. “We’ll just lay low until he’s satisfied that it’s not a trap.”
I had a better idea than just waiting around for Charles. Tamara trailed behind as I trotted to the nearby street corner and quickly spotted what I was looking for. “Ashes, what are you doing?”
“I figured I should do some preparation of my own, you know?” I glanced at the signpost marking the corner of East Prospector Ave and Heart Street. “This’ll do.” I glanced back and forth at the still, empty streets, reached down, and wrenched the tubular steel right out of the ground.
Tamara winced; it had been louder than I’d expected. I shrugged and beckoned her to follow as I trotted back to the car, shaking concrete off of my new weapon as I went. By the time we got back, Charles was already returning.
“What the hell is that?” he asked, pointing at the metal signpost.
“And here I thought I might finally impress you with a staff of of my own,” I grinned, reaching up and pruning the street names off of the top of the sturdy metal pole as if they were leaves. “Or do I look like I’m compensating for something?”
“That’s fucking scary,” Corey commented, watching me effortlessly prune the sign.
“Let’s hope they feel the same,” I replied, giving him a vicious grin. He nodded. “Just in case we do run into One-Horn again, I’m going to put this through his ugly, meaty face.”
“Sounds good,” Charles said. “I can’t pinpoint it, but I know the energy’s coming from inside the school. So let’s get in there and do work before something shows up to stop us.”
Between Charles’ magic, my strength, and Corey’s lock picking skills, getting into the school was a breeze. Charles’ apprentice seemed a little too gleeful as he shorted out the security cameras I didn’t think about, grinning widely and arcing a spark between his fingers.
It was the easiest supernatural trail I’d followed yet, leading us down the stairs to the basement. “Why would the girls have come down here in the first place? Especially when people started disappearing?” Corey asked.
“My guess is that they were lured,” I replied, forcing a maintenance door. “By someone they knew.”
“That Dana girl?” Tamara asked.
I nodded.
I felt the energy roll past as soon as we breached the door and crossed the threshold into an old boiler room, a big rectangle of a basement full of old machinery, tangled pipes, tools, and rust. While the large boiler itself was unused, a worn reflection of its former usefulness, the room was obviously still used and maintained for other purposes and not scary-creepy at all.
That feeling derived from the reek of death that pervaded the air and tendrils of cold that I could almost see snaking and twisting through the air. It wasn’t that peaceful calm I’d felt from the graveyard Next Door or the wild, secret danger of the forest’s dark underboughs. This was dread and impending demise, plain and simple. Sheer terror so strong I was surprised the iron pipes themselves weren’t sweating in fear.
“They fucked up.” Charles grinned fiercely, almost gleefully as he popped his knuckles. “They were pretty thorough. They came along and purged all of the sigils, the stains… everything they could.” He gestured around at the dark basement. “But you can’t make tears in the fabric of reality just go away. Too much magic was done here. The Rawhead brought its realm too close too many times by taking so many from one place.” He beckoned Corey to open his duffle. “And I’m going to make them pay for it.”
“Then that begs the question why,” I began hoarsely, “no one’s popping out of the pipes to stop us.”
Charles paused, leaning against the wall. “I’m assuming it’s because this is a trap.” He took two bottles from his apprentice: a metal one that probably contained alcohol and a small, thin one with a medicine dropper cap. He took a long swig from the first one before continuing. “Always expect that they’re expecting you. Better that way. Safer.” He unscrewed the
cap to the second bottle and checked it, sliding further down the wall.
“If this is a trap, then what’s the battle plan?” Tamara asked, going over and locking the basement door behind us. We wouldn’t be leaving that way, anyway.
Tilting his head back slightly, Charles bled a few drips from the medicine dropper, landing them expertly under his tongue, then closing his eyes and handing both bottles back to Corey. After holding his mouth closed for a few seconds, he swallowed, then gestured dismissively. “Show them the bags,” he told his apprentice.
“These?” Corey dragged over one of the two sturdy hiking backpacks. He unzipped it and tilted its open mouth toward us. One of the Super Soakers was wedged inside, handle jutting out, along with several aerosol cans.
“Those…are spray paint cans.” I announced, looking at the wizard for an explanation.
“Maybe for those who lack imagination,” he replied easily, glancing at me. “But for us, with just the right touch of heat and flame…” He smiled a tight, thin smile, a vicious sort of humor. “Then they become cheap, effective Wizard Grenades.”
I blinked my dry eyes; explosions meant even more heat and flame, which made me more than a little uncomfortable. “And why do we need ‘wizard grenades?’”
Tamara took out one of the pressurized cans, looked it over, then returned it to the bag. Corey promptly zipped it shut and began setting up Charles’ ritual space without further prompting from his teacher.
“For the same reason we need holy water guns,” he replied. “You bring the right tool for the job. And in this case, the job is killing monsters.” He opened his eyes, which were already starting to dilate. “The plan is to build on what worked before.” He nodded at me. “You can’t be killed easily. While the Moroi are mortal vampires and the Sanguinarians and Jiangshi are created vampires with their own rules and flaws, the Strigoi are immortal vampires. Only specific things can kill you for good, like fire and sunlight. You’re our only chance to stand up to the Rawhead’s raw physical strength.” He considered me. “Assuming you’re willing.”
“Hell yes I’m willing,” I’d been hoping for another meeting with the Rawhead, one it wouldn’t walk away from. And it seemed Charles and I were on the same page in that regard. “But can I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask,” he grunted.
“Next time,” I rasped, “Can we do with less fire slinging?” I glanced pointedly at the small, naked flame of the lantern Corey was setting out, its protective glass globe shattered during last night's tense battle against the Rawhead.
“Fire is our most instinctive offensive element and a powerful tool against most things supernatural. You do want that thing dead, right?”
I eyed the dancing, wavering flame; I could swear it wobbled my way more than it should have. “That thing, yes; myself, not so much. Once was enough.”
“Well,” Charles said, “if and when we run into your ‘One-Horn’ again, get out of the damn way and let us roast it. It’s head is vulnerable to flame, and the whole body is vulnerable to consecrated tools.” He shrugged. “The makeshift explosives are for use as low magic crowd control, mostly for the Hollow Men. They won’t affect the Rawhead much, though the blast of flame might work against any Strigoi we can catch flat footed.”
I shuddered. “If you want to use any of that stuff, just give me a little warning and, believe me, I’ll get out of the way.” I found myself wishing that the easiest way to take care of our collective foes wasn’t also the easiest way to take care of me.
“I’ll say ‘barbecue’,” Charles deadpanned. “So, if we’re done?” The wizard’s eyes were starting to droop and he let them close. “Shush and let me concentrate.”
“Should only take him a few minutes to get ready,” Corey explained, fishing around in Charles’ duffle. “We’ll need to—”
Tamara’s phone rang, echoing out a few notes of “Gives You Hell”. She grimaced and fumbled hastily for her phone. Charles’ eyes popped open at distracting sound, and Tamara paled a bit more than usual. She cursed under her breath, then stepped aside to talk, but her side of the conversation didn’t stay quiet for long.
“No. No! I don’t care what you—I didn’t say that and I’m not going to drop everything and come home because you can’t handle them yourself. No. I’m too close to give up and I’m not backing off just because—I know you don’t care, but I do, and I’m going to do what I can to stop it! They’re people, Li. Yes, they are, and they deserve better than to be left to shit they’re not equipped to handle when we can do something to help! I—Okay, you know what? I don’t care. You’re a selfish fucking coward and you can stay in your goddamned tower and watch the world burn, but if you’re not willing to get your hands dirty, you can be the one to explain to Mother why I burned with it.” Tamara poked the screen angrily, ending the call, then pushed the phone down into her hip pouch, obviously shaken.
“Is...everything okay?” I asked, concerned.
Tamara glared into the darkness. “Not really.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Sorry. I’m fucking pissed at the moment.”
Charles already looked like he was about about one of three sheets to the wind, but he still stared at her as if she’d just answered a cobra and stuffed it into her bag. “Are… Are you sure that’s wise? Your family isn’t one to take no for an answer. Ever.”
I finally caught on. Tamara’s family, the family in charge of the Moroi, had just told her to drop this and come home. And she’d told them to stuff it.
Tamara squared her shoulders with a youthful sort of defiance. “They can’t tell me what to do.”
“Can’t they?” Charles’ cinnamon eyes were wide as he blinked repeatedly in surprise, a startling amount of raw emotion to see on the man’s face. “Are you serious?” He sounded like he was choking a little; maybe he was just that unused to feeling emotions. “So, you’re just going to outright defy one of the most powerful families in the world? Even if you are one of their own, they’re not going to allow that.”
Tamara gave him a soft smile. “For a little while, at least, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I gave her an appreciative grin, hoping that her decision wasn’t going to cost her too much. “Funny thing is, they didn’t even know everything that’s going on. They just heard about my car turning up with busted tires and some bullet holes in it, investigated, and discovered what the Sanguinarians tried to do.” She shrugged. “Now they’re pissed and want all the details. Which I’m not going to give them,” she cut her sapphire eyes at me, “and they want me home safe where they can keep an eye on me.” She huffed, tossing her head. “I told them I was busy.”
Charles was shaking his head. “It’s your funeral, I suppose. Nice knowing you.” I really hoped he wasn’t serious. “Are we ready? This is really kicking in.” He rose and reached for his staff, using it to push himself to his feet and steady himself. Maybe that’s why wizards carry staves. Taking a piece of black chalk out of his coat, he began to draw a half-circle on the floor, and the outline of a door on the wall itself.
“Need anything else?” Corey asked, gesturing at the candles and rods and things he’d already laid out, each in what seemed to be their proper place.
“Nah,” Charles responded. “The Wall is weak here. This is staff work. It’s calling to me.”
Corey sighed and started putting everything away again.
“Ashley,” Charles called, almost a command. I stepped close to the wizard as he knocked twice on the wall with his staff, the sound going beyond mere vibration. “Be present, and focus like before. Reach out and touch the energy in the air. It will help ensure a safe arrival—especially if we really are up against Strigoi death magic.” He wobbled a little on his feet.
I closed my eyes as Charles began a slow, sonorous chant. The permeating aura of death surrounded me quicker and easier than it had before; I reached for it, more familiar with how to do so after the fight with the Sanguinarians. But before I could fully
brace myself for the trip, the force of Charles’ magic hit the air, and I felt the world split wide open.
Then I was gone, whisked violently away by the vacuum of Charles’ magic and the open Window leading Next Door.
25
It's bedtime for monsters
The rift didn’t just spit us out like it had before. Instead, it felt like I was hanging suspended in the air, even while I had no body to feel anything with. After what seemed like minutes of nothing, Charles’ magic finally coughed us out Next Door. The four of us stumbled out of nowhere to stand on the precipice of a rocky cliff.
“Shit,” the wizard said immediately after landing. “We lost time in the crossing. There’s no way to know how much is left of the night. We have to hurry.”
Since we hadn’t landed in the same place Next Door as before, we didn’t cross through a massive graveyard or creepy forest. Instead, we made a quick journey through the ass end of some ancient ruin composed entirely of strange, interconnected stone buildings all too large to have ever been intended for human use. I rapidly located the entrance to the Rawhead’s tunnel complex, and we hurried down the bone-strewn tunnel, moving as quick as we could and still feel safe.
“The longer we take, the more time they have to prepare,” Charles had pointed out. “Don’t think they got bored of tracking us. Best to assume they know exactly what we’re up to and where we are.”
“What if we’re hurrying into a trap?” Corey panted.
His mentor shook his head. “If One-Horn’s still around, taking our time won’t matter. It’s a predator, and we’re in its lair. We won’t spot it unless it wants us to.”
After that, I made doubly certain I stayed in the front of our little group.
Dead Girl's Ashes (Dying Ashes Book 1) Page 22