by Ana Mardoll
I bite the inside of my cheek, scanning the fog again. Dakota's yard is a wide expanse of dry crunchy grass without a lick of cover. Moving towards the house could draw attention to us. "It might be risky," I hazard.
"Staying here would be more dangerous," Clarent observes quietly, looking at me with concern in his silver eyes. "Rose, you almost died last time."
"We're stronger as a group," Lavender insists, her fingers gripping the back of my seat. "Clarent can de-magic anything that gets close to us, right? And Celia must know the portal is here. She has her bow; she can cover us."
I frown, still studying the silent house. There are too many variables in this plan; we don't even know if Celia has been carried over into the portal with us. Yet it's true that we're not safe here in the car; Clarent sticks out like a silver thumb, as do we with our cotton-candy hair.
"Okay," I whisper. "Exit on your side of the car. I'll slide over and follow you. Crouch low, try not to move too fast, and head straight for the front door." If no one is there to let us in we'll be in trouble, but alternatives like scaling the backyard gate or breaking a window would attract even more attention. Worst case scenario, we can hide in the garden bushes out front.
Clarent eases open his passenger door and for once the aging hinges do not creak. We pause, the three of us holding a collective breath. Nothing moves in the mist. He slides from his seat and drops into a silent crouch on the lawn beside the curb, waiting. I touch Lavender on the shoulder and she follows suit, opening her own door the bare minimum necessary to squeeze out and slip onto the lawn.
Now it is my turn. I slide over the gearstick and into Clarent's seat, dropping onto the ground beside him. The summer grass under my fingers is dry as straw, and I wince in sympathy with its thirst. I point to the house and Clarent nods, pushing off from the ground in a quick crouching walk. Lavender follows, glancing back at me briefly. I bring up the rear, cringing at Clarent's heavy footfalls which are only barely muffled by the thick mist around us.
I feel heat before the blow lands: a bristling sensation in the air behind me, a sudden fierce burning like standing too close to a bonfire. When I turn my head to look, my eyes already watering from the dry sting in the air, a heavy hand lands on my shoulder and I scream as intense pain floods through me. Lavender and Clarent whip around, alarm etched on their faces, and then I'm flung aside by a blow with inhuman strength behind it.
I hit the ground hard, the side of my head slamming into the earth. My vision swims sickeningly as I struggle to rise, propping myself against the ground with my elbow. One leg is twisted painfully under me, and my bare shoulder is burning. I reach up to touch the area gingerly, horrified by the sensation of seared skin already prickling with heat blisters. "What happened?" I hear myself say, too disoriented to remember to whisper.
"Rose! Are you okay?" Lavender flies to my side, kneeling to help me sit up. The sheer terror and raw fury rolling off her send another wave of dizziness washing through me. Slowly, I register that Clarent has moved next to us in a protective stance, watching my attacker with wary eyes.
The newcomer is another altered, unlike any I've ever seen before. He's black as soot and shadow, not the natural dark brown of skin, but rather a literal absence of light, like a black hole taken shape in the misty morning air. Pulsing orange-red veins cover his arms and legs in spidery patterns, weaving together in a thick throbbing mass right over his heart. He looks like living magma, like burning coals poured into the shape of a man.
He stands a few feet away, allowing no chance for us to run or hide. The red eyes set deep into his face glower at us like smoldering embers. Given how frightening he looks and how badly he's hurt me, it's difficult to remember that he's not necessarily hostile to us. Celia had said the bear-woman who attacked Kieran had been confused by crossing the portal; this man may not understand that he's not in the otherworld anymore and we're not his enemies. I take a quick gulp of air, determined to be conciliatory.
"Hello," I greet him. My throat is raw after my scream; I must have reopened yesterday's wounds. "I'm Rose. You're—"
"You're the metal one," he interrupts, staring intently at Clarent. His voice is low and liquid, smooth but threatening. "I thought I was going to have to actually look for you. They didn't say you had girls with you." His burning eyes travel over us, his gaze curious and faintly hostile.
Lavender rises angrily, stepping around me to juxtapose herself between us and him. "Welcome earthside," she says firmly, her words polite but her voice tight and protective. "Why don't you come with us? You can meet Celia and—"
His arm sweeps around with sudden violence, backhanding Lavender hard enough to send her reeling. She slams onto the ground beside me, the air knocked out of her in a single pained grunt. His heavy hands throb with the same fiery veins that mark his arms; his attacks are like being slugged by burning stone. Already I can see the burns on her pale face, angry blisters rising and puckering.
I hear Clarent shout wordlessly as he steps forward to deal with the man, but I only have eyes for Lavender. Gulping short breaths against the pain, I pull myself to my knees. My fingers fly gently over her, checking her pulse, looking for anything broken. She's unconscious but breathing. Her lip has been split where he struck her, and more blood dribbles in a thin line from her nostril; the deep red fluid contrasts with the angry pink burns on her delicate skin.
Behind me I hear sounds of a struggle: the scuffling of Clarent's shoes in the dry grass, and then the sickening sound of stone grinding against metal. I whirl to face the two men, my eyes widening at the sight of the altered holding Clarent in a tight headlock.
Our attacker hasn't been changed into a human as I'd expected; instead, his thick stony arm is wrapped around Clarent's neck while his free hand grips his own wrist, pulling the hold tighter and cutting off his air. The maneuver pulls Clarent steadily backwards, so that his feet have to fight for purchase in order for him to stay upright and breathing.
Clarent's hands scrabble ineffectually at the arm that encircles his neck, but he can't touch the altered for more than a few seconds before jerking convulsively away from the heat. If Clarent can't touch him, I realize, he can't change the altered man back into a human. Already his silver palms are blackened and burned and the smooth metal on his fingers has twisted and run. I understand with sudden horror that contact with the man is actually melting Clarent's soft metal.
"Hey! Hey, let him go." My voice sounds weak in my ears, hazy with shock and pain. "You're earthside now, you don't have to do this." I dig my nails into the ground, swallowing back the nausea that reaches with icy fingers into my stomach. "We're not your enemy. No one is making you do this. Please stop."
The altered man peers curiously at Clarent, completely ignoring me. "You're definitely metal," he observes in a low voice. He tightens his hold against Clarent's windpipe, the heat softening his silver neck so that it bends painfully under the relentless force. "Right size and weight, good color. But they didn't say anything about girls. They should have; I don't like surprises."
They? The icy fingers in my stomach clench harder as his words sink in. He glances at me, his stony face looking mildly amused. "Can't carry three back with me," he notes in a bored drawl. "Only got two hands and they said you weren't optional, metal-man. That means I gotta pick between the pale one and the dark one." He looks back at Clarent. "Do you have a preference?"
Clarent's face is contorted with pain, his eyes bulging as he loses his fight against the chokehold. At the threat against myself and Lavender he grunts angrily and lunges backwards against his attacker. The man barely seems to register the movement, absorbing the impact with a chuckle. "All you have to do is point at whichever one you want," he mocks, tightening his grip.
I have to do something, but I can't see what. I could run for Celia, but the house is still dark and silent; I don't even know if they were caught in the portal with us. I could try to get around the men and back to the car. Two tons of metal slamm
ed into our attacker might give him pause for thought—but he's still holding Clarent and I don't want to hurt him as well.
Can I reason with him? If he was sent by the faeries to collect Clarent, maybe we can convince him to stay here, to be free and join our community. But I don't like the way he looks at me and Lavender, and I'm certain there's nothing I have that I want to offer him.
I see a flash of movement from the corner of my eye, a window curtain stirring as if in a slight breeze. I hear the tiniest click, a sound barely carried through the mist; then an arrow tears through the window screen with a soft ripping sound and hurtles straight towards us. The projectile slams into the side of the magma man's head and shatters uselessly against his hard stone-plating.
"What the—?" He spins towards the house, whipping Clarent around in his grasp. Frowning angrily, he peers at the dark building, devoid of movement save for the tiny tear in the screen which flaps gently in the swirling mist. I hear another soft click, and the man clenches his red eyes shut just in time to protect himself from a second arrow that bounces harmlessly off his left eyelid.
He twists back, hunching his neck and shoulders against any further attacks, and glares daggers at me where I sit. "That's cute, honey, really adorable," he growls angrily. "Got yourself a friend in there who thinks I don't know to protect my soft spots? Like this is my first hunt?" His voice drops to a purr in happy anticipation of more violence. "Time to finish this," he announces.
The magma man's hand snakes up under his arm and grabs Clarent by the throat. His arm twists hard, and he spins Clarent around in a tight circuit to face him. A flash of fresh pain crosses Clarent's face and his eyes flutter as he fights to stay conscious. Huge hands grip his neck and raise him higher until he's struggling to remain standing on his toes. The stone hands pulse with heat, and I'm horrified to see liquid metal dripping from Clarent's neck to stain his clothes red.
In a burst of panic, Clarent's hands grip the altered man's arms. His silver eyes clench shut against the pain, and there's a brief moment where everything shimmers like a mirage in the desert. Black stone becomes cool white skin, and I hear the distant sound of another soft click. Then reality slams back into focus and Celia's arrow ricochets harmlessly away from hard stone.
The man chuckles. "They mentioned you have a rare talent. But I don't think you can concentrate through the pain, friend," he gloats, tightening his burning hands. "Nice try, though." His hands squeeze harder and Clarent's eyes flutter closed.
I have to do something. Clarent's magic didn't have a chance to work. Celia couldn't help. Lavender is wounded, stirring but not yet conscious—and what could she do against this creature? I could try to trip him, wrestle him to the ground, but he subdued Clarent easily and he's much stronger than I am. I'm near, though, and I'm fast; maybe I could get at his eyes with my nails, or tear at that mass of veins covering his heart. Maybe I could—
My nails. My fingers. The world slows around me. My fingers cause desire. My lips are poisonous. I've been killing men for years, some of them stronger even than this one. I'm an actual biological weapon, deadlier than the heaviest car or sharpest arrow.
Heat distorts the air around him, and my shoulder still burns from where he struck me. He can't really be made of magma and fire, or Clarent's clothes would have burned away, I would be wounded more severely than I am, and he'd have no hope of bringing us back alive. He must have some control over the heat, enough to keep from being lethal. But kissing him will hurt, and if I manage to survive I'll be a murderer all over again; this time by choice.
I leap to my feet, throwing myself at the altered. He ignores me, his concentration entirely on Clarent as he chokes him to unconsciousness. His bored expression implies that I'm harmless to him, just a helpless girl flailing about uselessly in defense of her lover. Good, I think. Underestimate me.
I duck under his outstretched arms and come up between them, wincing at the intense heat that envelops me. "Hello," I murmur, my voice low in my throat, ignoring the burning limbs on either side of me in order to press closer to his chest. "I'm Rose. You are...?" He blinks, surprised by my boldness, though he doesn't tear his gaze away from Clarent. I lay my right hand against the orange veins over his heart, my touch gentle and nonthreatening. I pray Elric isn't wrong as I will any desire-magic residing in my fingers to invade this man's bloodstream.
It hurts to touch him, the pain much worse than I'd expected to endure. My fingers burn with the excruciating heat, my skin melting to fuse with him. Only now do I realize the uncertainties inherent in this plan. We've never even verified that my fingers work on Clarent, let alone on a man who has liquid fire running through his veins. The poison in my lips and hands may be burned away by his very touch.
Yet there's a stillness in the air, a moment when I can feel his heartbeat under my burning fingers and hear his breath catch. He blinks again, and his red eyes draw reluctantly away from Clarent to focus on me. I nod encouragingly at him, flashing him a coy smile and snaking my left hand around the back of his head. Bracing myself against the imminent pain I touch his neck, drawing him down for a lingering kiss.
It burns. Every ounce of my self-control is taken up in keeping my lips pressed against his. I want to pull away, to howl with the intensity of the pain. Then I feel Clarent tumbling to the ground behind me. Fiery hands come up to wrap around my back, drawing me deeper into the kiss, and I melt into fresh agony. I don't have to force myself to hold still any longer; the desire I've inflicted on him has ensured that I cannot escape.
He holds me close, his lips moving possessively against mine. I feel the searing sensation of my lips melting as he pulls me tighter into him. I screw my eyes shut against the heat, feeling the skin on my face blistering and peeling away. I pray that he dies quickly or that I do; death is preferable to the excruciating torment of being crushed by a pillar of living ember.
There's a scuffling sound in the grass beneath me. My eyes fly open, but for a moment I can see only black stone and red heat. There is a flash of silver near my feet and the blessed smoothness of Clarent against my leg. His hands snake out to grip the altered's ankles; he's too shaky to stand but determined to help. Again there comes that soft shimmer of mirage in the air, the feeling of magic moving, changing, rearranging.
Heat begins to ebb away, though my skin still burns from the damage already done. The stone and fire that fill my vision shift to white skin and blue eyes for a brief moment before shifting back again. He struggles to pull away from Clarent's grip, but I hold him with every last ounce of my strength. My burned lips press hard against his, and I feel the choking knot form in his throat before blood begins to dribble from the edges of his mouth.
He's dead now even if he doesn't know it yet, even if Clarent still struggles to change him. I pull my face back a few inches to view my handiwork, struggling to stay conscious through the pain. He flickers again, stone and skin, but now his skin is patched purple and red and tiny cracks appear in the stone. His eyes widen with fear before flashing with fresh anger. Broad hands move up my back and fasten unexpectedly around my throat, squeezing furiously.
Stone or flesh, his hands are strong enough to choke and I am not made of metal. I feel the clench in my neck as air is cut off, and then the tight inexorable crushing that will take me into death with him. I should have known better; I could have scrambled away from him after the kiss began to take its toll. Yet on reflection, I feel at peace dying here. Being killed by one of my victims feels like justice, and now Clarent and Lavender will be safe.
The man shivers again, the trembling in his arms jerking me back from the edge of unconsciousness. There is one final flash of stone and then he is flesh and blood and fully human. Clarent slumps forward into the grass, releasing his grip around the man's ankles now that he's done everything he can. It's too late to save me, but I'm grateful that he made the effort.
Without any warning the man coughs violently, fresh blood gushing over his purpled lips and splattering
my face. He wobbles where he stands, loosening his grip on my neck. My legs give out from under me and I collapse to the ground beside Clarent. Looking up with hazy eyes, I'm stunned to see Lavender. She's standing there bristling with raw fury, in her hand the shaft of the arrow she's buried deep into the man's back.
The life in the magma man's eyes extinguishes entirely and he crumples slowly into the grass. I wonder if it is safe for me to black out from the pain, before I realize that I have no remaining choice in the matter. As darkness claims my vision, I hope that Celia can get everyone inside before the humans see.
Chapter 19
In what is rapidly becoming an unwanted pattern, I wake without knowing where I am, what time it is, or how wounded I might be. My consciousness swims toward light and sound, my eyes fluttering open to blink against the bright light washing over me.
A voice I don't recognize pierces my ears. It is clipped and precise with a musical accent I can't place, and sounds extremely angry. "No, Celia, I'm not staying! This is ridiculous! I'm furious that you called me out here at all, if this sort of thing keeps happening around them. You ought to have warned me!"
Celia's voice is as cool and calm as usual, the normality soothing to me. "Lily, you're safer here with us than you would be anywhere else, and I need you here to talk to Clarent when Elric gets here with his papers. The girls would like to talk to you as well; Rose has been especially curious about her past."
"Oh, fuck off, Celia." Even when swearing, the new voice is like a golden symphony. "You know perfectly well what to put him down as. He's clearly Hispanic; you can hear his accent as well as I can. English as a second language, thoroughly fluent; probably picked it up as a toddler. He's a local through and through, and almost certainly a rush job nabbed by a finder at short notice. Best explanation for how he ended up in an Arthurian smithy."
"He may be a local," Celia says, her calm voice unperturbed, "but I still want you to check and be sure. His talent is a rare one, which means he may have been specifically sought out. And whether he's local or not, I'll need you here when Elric shows up. We're going to require cities he's plausibly lived in, family names, and so on."