by Amy Sumida
See, the thing with manticores is that they are very durable. Wounding them takes a lot, to begin with, but even if you did manage to get them injured, they healed very quickly. The manticores I'd magically shot in their heads, were slowly getting back up again. It looked like I'd have to concentrate on them individually, to make sure they stayed down.
Cerberus was actually faring better than I; tearing into lion hides and swiping human heads from thick, furry necks. It's pretty damn hard to recover from a beheading. Speaking of heads, two of Cer's hound heads roared, the sound shaking the cement walls. That's when I noticed that his third head had taken a manticore spike in the jaw. The poison had paralyzed the head, leaving it to hang uselessly down Cerberus's flank, drooling doggy goo on his thick hide. But I didn't worry about him; Cerberus would be fine. He could take a few of those barbs and live through it. Though, I was going to tease him like hell when this was done. For now, I concentrated instead on the remaining manticores, of which there were three females and one male. Cer and Torin had killed four females already. I needed to up my game, and start pulling my weight.
My hips shimmied through the saucy song, and my heart lifted. Even in the midst of this mayhem, I could find joy within my magic. The pure release of it was heady, but add to it an upbeat song, and I was in heaven. My voice echoed out around us, louder than both manticore and hellhound roars. The barrage of sound balled my magic into invisible fists which punched out at our enemies. Bam-bam. Double taps of head and heart; flesh flying, blood spraying, and barbs tinkling to the floor as they simply disintegrated. The lyrics teased and enticed, but with my intent, they became some of the most dangerous words I'd ever uttered. The last time I'd seen a bloodbath like this, I'd been on a battlefield in Tír na nÓg.
A manticore female launched herself through the air, human mouth snarling and lion paws extended. She was headed straight for Torin, who had just pummeled her pride-sister's head right off her body with the force of his magic alone. The anger in the manticore's eyes was fueled by pain, and I briefly felt sorry for her. But then I remembered that these creatures had been murdering people and eating them, both for business advantages and for their own pleasure. My sympathy vanished by the time her head went flying; another victim of Torin's Shining One power.
Cerberus was laughing, Torin snarling, and I kept singing. The magic took over and surged through me; my body undulating and hips swinging. I gloried in it, in the battle between good and evil; in the song and right there before me. It didn't matter which side seduced these manticores, either way, they were dead. The whole pride was wiped out before the end of the song.
Cerberus shifted back, stumbling a little through the after effects of the manticore poison. He came to stand beside me and Torin as we surveyed the damage. The bodies were horrific and would be dangerous to handle, what with the poison still lodged within their tails. Like a final insult, manticores could kill long after their own death.
“We're going to need to call in an ifrit to handle this,” Cerberus crossed his arms and stared at the corpses with satisfaction.
“Elaria could spellsing some fire to take care of this,” Torin suggested.
“Yeah, but my fire will set off the alarms.” I waved a hand to the sprinklers set in the pipes above us. “An ifrit can use their smokeless fire energy to simply disintegrate this mess. I could try to do something like that myself, but I can't guarantee that my magic will go that route. Plus, I'm tired. I'd rather an ifrit burn them.”
“Can't an ifrit just wish it all away?” Torin smirked.
“They hate wish jokes, man,” Cerberus said as he pulled out his cellphone. “Don't ever make one around an ifrit.”
“And definitely don't call them genies,” I added in mock seriousness. “Or make any bottle references.”
I sang a few lines from Christina Aguilera's “Genie in a Bottle”, feeling just a little bad for cracking jokes over corpses. But honestly, the best way to keep yourself sane in situations like this was to laugh it off. So, Torin and I chortled it up while Cerberus tried to angrily wave us into silence.
“Jack?” Cerberus glared at us as he spoke into his phone. “Yeah, it's me. You still in Vegas?”
“If he's not, tell him to just cross his arm, blink, and nod his head,” I suggested. “That should do the trick.”
“I thought they had to wiggle their nose?” Torin asked.
“No, that's witches.” I giggled.
Cerberus gave us one last scowl, and Torin and I went quiet. “I need you over at Circus Circus. There's a manticore massacre I need cleaned up.” He laughed. “Sure, Jack, go ahead and use it for a headline, I like the sound of it too, and Elaria never lets me name anything.” He hung up the phone. “Jack's coming.”
“Does Jack live in a box instead of a bottle?” Torin asked with mock seriousness.
“Don't start, Onyx,” Cer warned. “He'll be here in like–“
“Holy fucking hot dogs roasted over hellfire!” A man stood in the stairwell's doorway and looked over the carnage with wide eyes. “I hope I have enough juice for this.”
“Thanks for coming, Jack.” Cerberus went over to the man with a hand extended.
“They really can just blink themselves places,” Torin whispered to me, and I choked back a laugh.
“Sure, no problem.” Jack shook Cerberus's hand without removing his gaze from the manticore corpses. “Hey, El.”
“Hey, Jack.” I gave the ifrit a wide grin. “This is my boyfriend, Torin.”
“What's up?” Jack gave Torin a brief glance before he stepped toward the manticore bodies.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Torin said.
“The three of you did this?” Jack turned back to us, his dark eyes going bright orange.
“That's right,” Cerberus answered. “Mainly El, though.”
“I saw you tossing manticore parts over your shoulder,” I argued. “And I know Torin killed at least three.”
“Three females.” Torin smirked. “But it was a concerted effort.”
“Fuck,” Jack exclaimed. “This is damn impressive. You can bet this will get the front page.”
“Front page?” Torin asked.
“Jack runs a Beneath newspaper,” I explained. “Inside the Beneath.”
“I get called in for these types of jobs all the time,” Jack said. “I figured I might as well make some side money off it. I always check if I can go public with the info first, though. You said we're cool, right?”
“That's right,” Cerberus agreed. “This is great advertising for Elaria. Just leave out Torin's and my involvement, if you can.”
“Sure, no problem.” Jack's ebony curls started to straighten as he held his hands out before him. “Give me a minute here.”
“Take your time,” Cer said.
Jack's skin began to glow white, and then the light collected in his palms. His hair continued to extend until it stuck out straight from his skull in points, sparks jumping from spike to spike. Suddenly, the light shot out from his palms and flowed over the manticore bodies. The light intensified, making me turn away to save my eyes, and when it dimmed enough for me to look back, the bodies were gone. Just ash drifting away.
“Nice job,” Cerberus went over to smack Jack's back good-naturedly.
“Thanks.” Jack shifted his shoes in an aw-shucks manner as his hair curled up again. “I wasn't certain–”
My cell phone rang, cutting Jack off. “Burning Down the House” by The Talking Heads, filtered out of my purse; my father's ringtone. My heart started to race as I answered the phone.
“Dad, what's wrong?”
“It's your mother,” my father's voice was hoarse as if he'd been crying, “she's gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Daddy!” I rushed into my father's arms.
Torin and I had taken Cerberus with us to Tír na nÓg using our traveling stones, then jumped back through the Veil to get to Pyrosvesti as soon as possible. I hadn't even considered tr
aveling in that manner before, but necessity was the mother of invention. Mother . . . dear gods, mine had been abducted.
“I don't know how this could have happened.” My father wept in my arms. “She was in the kitchen, making us some lunch. I was down in my study. I didn't hear a thing; she didn't scream or knock anything around. When I came upstairs there were no signs of a struggle. Lunch was laid out on the table, but Kalliope wasn't there. I searched everywhere, Elaria. She just vanished.”
“We'll find her, Dad,” I vowed. “I'll search too, using my magic.”
“Do it.” My father's face went hard. “Try anything you can, Elaria, because I'm all out of ideas.”
“Okay.” I set him back on the couch and cast a determined look at Torin, Declan, and Cerberus.
Right; I forgot to mention that Declan had been in the Onyx Kingdom when we arrived. Evidently, he'd had a meeting with Torin which Torin had completely forgotten about. When Declan heard of my mother's disappearance, he decided to return to the Human Realm with us. Torin balked at first, but then he realized that having another Shining One king along –especially one with alexandrite magic– could be beneficial.
Plus, Torin kind of owed Declan an apology for forgetting their meeting; a meeting that was scheduled to discuss allying Alexandrite more firmly with Onyx, and possibly combining their borders, patrolling them with blended forces. I had no idea that Torin and Declan were thinking about such a move, and frankly, it shocked the hell out of me after all of Torin's talk of betrayal. But, it turned out that their long friendship meant more to Torin than Declan's recent attempts to win my affections. So, Declan joined us.
The men nodded to me and went to sit with my father, getting out of my way. I pulled my iPod out of my purse and stuck the earbuds in firmly. This time, I didn't want any distractions; I was going to focus purely on the music and the magic it helped me create. I thumbed through the songs and finally found one that was perfect for my needs: “Every Breath You Take” by The Police.
It's heartbeat-drums started, aligning my own heart with its message. Purpose filled my limbs as the music trickled into my blood, a shivering need. I focused my thoughts on my mother. Somehow, someone had taken her from her own home; all while my father sat below, unknowing. One of the few places Freya's cats weren't watching.
This was unacceptable. Unforgivable. I was going to seek this criminal out with every ounce of power I had. He may have a ward up, hiding his location, but I could still use my magic to figure out who the fuck he was. This song was perfect for scrutinizing; for finding the tiniest trace the bastard may have left behind. I closed my eyes and let Sting's purring voice penetrate my mind, let it bring things into clarity for me.
Then I added my voice to his.
With the sound turned up and my earbuds in, I couldn't hear my voice as much as feel it. The vibration of my intensity. It lifted with the climbing, steady pace of the song, reaching for that elusive clue. The chords became a path and the beats were footsteps. I walked through the room, the lyrics permeating every corner with their perusal. The song was obsessive, and that was just what I needed; a fixated investigation. Everything faded away as I sang. The words became visual, the melody a churning mist in the air. I left the room and went through the house, singing in every space, letting that mist seep into every inch of our home before I returned to the kitchen: the scene of the crime.
With an agonized cry, the chorus crested and everything came into sharp focus for me. The mist cleared, the room brightened, and I could see tracks left by everyone who had been in that room. My father and mother had the strongest trails; Mom's was a vibrant pink and Dad's was deep red. I saw my touch as well; a violet combination of my parent's colors. Cerberus was a vivid amber, Torin was glossy black, and Declan left a shifting blue-amethyst trail. I could see the distinct tracks of every visitor who had come to see my parents; like a rainbow had been woven across my vision. But none of the tracks belonged to a stranger, and none of them held any clue as to who had taken my mother.
I screamed and threw my iPod across the living-room.
“Elaria”–Torin was instantly there to hold me–“it will be alright. We'll find her.”
“Find who?” Thomas Frost walked into the room. “Who's gone missing now?”
“Tom,” my father groaned, “they've taken Kalliope.”
“No.” Tom's expression fell, his eyes going wide with horror. “Not Kalli.”
“Yes.” My father hung his head. “And Elaria's magic can't see who took her.”
“Robert,” Thomas said as he rushed over to my father, “it seems that I've come at the perfect time. I have news.”
“You do?” My father looked up at his friend with fragile hope.
“I have just come from the Coven,” Tom said. “They're convening to discuss the disappearances of the sirens and the possibility that a witch is behind them. We need to get you there”–he stopped to look at me–“and Elaria. I think you should come as well, Ellie.”
“Of course,” I said as I produced my traveling stone. “Torin, Declan, and I can get us all there in an instant. Everyone grab a travel buddy.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Coven's headquarters was located in Canada. Yes, I know; it's one of the last places anyone would think to look for a bunch of witches. That was kind of the point. Plus, Canada is beautiful. The Coven house had been built on a private island, just off the coast of Canada. Celine Dion owned an island nearby; I suppose singers and witches both had a thing for the absolute seclusion of a private island.
As soon as we stepped foot on Coven Cay –yeah, I know; a really creative name there– we were met by coven sentries who escorted us to the meeting. The witches weren't too happy with my demi-god and fairy king escorts, but it wasn't like they could tell the men to take a hike. They all knew Cerberus. Which isn't meant to imply that the witches liked him. They simply knew what he was capable of and didn't want to mess with him. Torin and Declan were worse; they'd only heard tales of what Shining One kings could do, and sometimes the unknown was even more terrifying than the horror you knew. Suffice it to say, they let us all in.
The conference room was a massive hall stretching the length of two football fields . . . and it was full of witches. Shouting, angry witches. From what I could glean during our long trip down the center aisle, it was a mixed camp; some were outraged that a witch could do such a horrible thing, and some were insulted that anyone could think that a witch could do such a horrible thing. I got both welcoming and annoyed glances. My father, however, was warmly greeted by all. He was powerful and well-respected; something that often doesn't go hand-in-hand. Among witches, it meant that even when they disagreed with him, they still treated him with deference.
We came to a halt at the end of the room, where the Coven leaders stood in a semi-circle, addressing the crowd. Or trying to, at least. The crowd was rather rambunctious today. The leaders looked like young men and women, all of them, but I knew they were ancient. These witches were older even than Cerberus. In fact, Cerberus bowed to them with all sincerity. Torin and Declan merely nodded.
“Exalted leaders,” my father said, “have you been informed of my wife's disappearance?”
A shocked murmur circulated behind us.
“No, Robert Scorcher, we have not,” Lady Vivian Lake –known best for her performance as the sword-snatching, water-bound babe from the Arthurian legends (yes, they're true)– spoke kindly to my father. “I am aggrieved to hear of it. We have been discussing the information you sent us, and which Thomas has brought to us”–she paused to nod to Tom–“about the siren abductions. It's difficult to analyze. Your daughter has determined that the sirens knew their abductor and that a ward has been protecting their location, correct?”
“Yes, Lady.” My father nodded. “We are certain it is a witch who is known to the victims.”
“And I have more to add.” I stepped up beside my father. “The goddess Freya witnessed an abduction through th
e eyes of one of her familiars. She says the witch is definitely male, and she noted a cool breeze in the air, right before the abduction.”
The crowd began muttering angrily.
“You didn't mention this earlier,” my father murmured to me.
“There was no time.”
“Silence,” the Lady spoke softly, but all heard and heeded her. “There is no need to argue any further. I see into Robert's heart, as well as his daughter's; they are both telling the absolute truth as they know it. We have a traitor among us. Whether we can trust Freya's report is debatable, but I don't see why she would try to deceive us. She has nothing to gain, either way. So, we can safely assume that it is a male witch; possibly one capable of manifesting a cooling magic.”
The room stayed quiet; not even a single shoe scuffed the polished oak floor.
“This traitor will be found and dealt with!” Odin Earthshaker, another coven leader, declared.
Just in case you're wondering; yes, he's that Odin. The Viking god isn't actually a god at all, he's a witch. Odin hung out with the Norse gods once upon a time, and he ended up being associated with them. How he achieved the lofty position as their prime deity is beyond me. What's even more surprising is how little the Norse gods seem to care about it. Everyone liked Odin –until they had to go up against him, that is.
Odin's one good eye, the left one, narrowed on the crowd as if he were searching for the traitor through sheer willpower. A sleek, black, leather eye-patch covered his right eye –where it used to be, at least. Odin had lost it in a horrible crafting accident –as in spell-crafting. The patch made his hard features look even more menacing, and several witches cringed under his perusal. He finally growled and gave up, setting his stark stare on me. His remaining eye was deep, walnut brown with specks of striking blue in it –a very unsettling eye, even without the power behind it.