Within moments, a thick cocoon of spider webbing had enveloped Mike’s entire body. Mike took short breaths and wondered what magic he could use to save his life. He nervously flexed his fingers and tore a small gap through the shell, not big enough to make a difference. He tried to bite a hole in the smothering surroundings, but couldn’t fully break through.
He could move his fingers and make a fist, but that was it. Mike stopped struggling and wasting energy for a moment. He remembered his first lesson in the Deep Burrow—not to panic or make any hasty decisions. An idea hit him like a frying pan upside the head. He clenched two fists and concentrated.
Mike remembered Alayna’s lesson about the one-inch punch, but was it too late? The cobwebs were suffocating. He wasn’t going to last much longer on shallow breathing. He closed his fist and focused his mind, tapping into the current of power, drawing in mental strength. His fist sprang forward, making a small dent in the dense web.
Mike concentrated again and threw another punch, creating some more space. Mike methodically pounded away at the web. Each indentation made it easier and gave him more leverage with each punch.
Suddenly, he was punching air. He tore at the spider’s web around his mouth and nose. As he clawed away the final layer, he greedily sucked in some of the putrid, stale air that had never tasted so sweet.
Mike ripped the cocoon from his face as thunder rumbled from above. George was kneeling next to a body near the hole he had been digging. A flash of lighting illuminated the small gold charm in his hand. He reached down and grabbed the necklace around the dead body’s neck.
Mike knew he needed to act quickly. He concentrated on the surrounding area for what resources he could use. Then he took two deep breaths and muttered the spell to summon water from the rain clouds above. He manifested the water in his fiery chest until the water began to boil.
When the water was hot enough, Mike held his arms out, and the red-hot liquid shot from his fingertips. He drenched George’s left side, and the beast released a painful yelp. The murderer jumped to his feet and stared at Mike. The scared young man tried to back away but his feet wouldn’t cooperate.
George walked purposefully toward him and stood right in front of Mike.
Too late, Mike realized George had been using mind magic. He didn’t know how to break the hold. The wild beast curled his fingers into a fist. A web of lightning lit up the sky at the exact moment George spun in a circle and unleashed a fierce right hook.
A crunching sound came from Mike’s jaw, and the young man fell flat on his back. He spat out two teeth and a wad of blood. His head rang like a bell as he sat up and tried to shake it off. George had made it back over to the dead body and was holding the broken charm on the necklace next to the piece that Mike had found.
The dark warlock pushed the two pieces together for a perfect fit. The completed charm emitted a golden glow. Seven strikes of lightning shot down from the sky and all met at the charm. Their force blew George back five feet. As he stumbled to get to his feet, the dead body sat up.
A pale woman with dark, curly hair fingered the charm on her necklace and stood up. She wore an old Victorian-style dress with black gloves. Dark soil fell from her dress as she walked toward her husband. George ran to greet her, and the couple shared a hug.
Mike knew he was in trouble now, and tried to come up with a plan to defeat both undead figures, but what chance did he stand now, with two of them, when he couldn’t even take care of one?
The reunion of the couple bought Mike some time, but the menu of options was slim due to his limited magic training. Mike concentrated on the elements surrounding him. His mind traveled from the molten core of the earth to the rain clouds above and even reached out to the stars.
Several ideas ran through his head, and he made a quick decision. He drew in the power of electricity stored in the rain clouds. He felt the intense force raging inside him, expanding from his chest to his extremities. He mentally jammed the waves of electricity into a concentrated mass.
A spherical blue object, about the size of a softball, with electrical sparkles running through it developed in Mike’s palm. He stared at George’s back. The legend was still embracing his wife.
Mike seized his chance. He wound up and hurled the fastball of energy at the couple.
George sensed the incoming danger at the last moment and turned toward Mike. The dense electric ball ripped through George’s shoulder and hit his wife in the side of the neck, tearing through her clavicle and only missing her heart by inches. Mike watched the spray of blood as if in slow motion.
Both of his opponents collapsed to the ground, howling in pain, and a smirk of accomplishment came over Mike’s lips. A rush of confidence swept through him as he plotted his next move. Mike closed his eyes.
He centered himself with the trees of the forest. The trees of his town. The trees of his country. The trees of the world. He thought about thousand-year-old trees. Their strength. Their power. Their wisdom. Abruptly, he focused on the roots of the trees.
He opened his eyes and extended his arms, embracing the trees. The earth began to rock back and forth, and waves from an unknown source rippled beneath the grass. The mighty arms of ancient tree roots sprang out of the ground and wrapped themselves around George and his wife before the couple could stand up.
The tree roots bound around them, holding both against the ground. Mike couldn’t believe that he was responsible for that. George thrashed around, and his wife Bellana, shouted a horrid song of a thousand dead demons.
George joined his wife in a scream that reached the thunder clouds above. The temperature rose to an unbearably high level, and a sudden rainfall felt like water droplets out of a boiling tea kettle with a tiny spout. The roots strangling the couple changed color and turned black. Smoke began to rise from the tree roots, and they burst into flames.
George and his wife jumped to their feet and danced around the fire to a flameless area. Mike hadn’t thought about his next move yet because he had been too busy celebrating his achievement. Bellana’s dress ran red, drinking in the gushing blood from her torso. George’s arm hung low, and he whimpered as he approached.
Mike froze.
Frozen in fear.
Like a damn statue.
He could only concentrate on this enormous undead man bearing down on him. Mike prepared to duck a punch to the face this time. Instead, George raised his leg, and the bottom of his foot connected with Mike’s chest, thrusting him back into the base of an oak tree.
Mike gasped for the air that had just been expelled from his lungs. “GAAAHHHHHH.” He took a few short wisps and tried again. “GGAHHH, GGAHHHHH.” A few more seconds passed, and he finally sucked in some fresh oxygen through his nostrils.
George tended to his injured wife, and Mike gathered his thoughts and planned his next maneuver. He could still feel the spirit of the trees running through him so he concentrated on that.
The bark. The solid trunk. The branches. The leaves. The water that runs through the leaves. Liquid. Liquid. Sap. Tree sap.
Mike opened his eyes. Relief rushed through him as he noticed George hovering over his wife. She had slumped to the ground. The local legend helped her to her feet, and the woman almost fell back down. George held up his wife as she fought to regain her balance.
Mike didn’t know if he had the capacity for internal magic yet, but he was sure as hell going to try. He focused on the tree sap. He thought about the sap’s properties and how to best utilize the thick, sticky liquid.
He thought about the acids—malic, succinic, phosphoric, citric and fumaric—but they didn’t spur any ideas. He shifted to the amino acids and minerals. Then it hit him. The glucose and fructose stuck in his head. The sugars.
Mike mentally drew the sap into his body first, and collapsed immediately. The cold sap had coated several of his organs. Luckily, he still had some of the raging electricity coursing through his veins. The heat thinned out the sticky substance, and
Mike’s mind shifted to the technique of transference.
He opened his eyes and zeroed in on Bellana’s chest. The moon fought through the clouds and reflected its magical glow onto the burgundy stains over her upper body. He stared, and concentrated, and waited. He didn’t know exactly how long you had to wait, but he felt like this was too long.
The couple started walking toward Mike. He stared at her chest and concentrated. Watched and waited. Impatiently. They were only three feet away. Mike braced himself for pain and projected his power at his enemy.
Suddenly, George’s wife fell to the ground, clutching her chest. Mike focused again and stared at the entry point. He collected the rest of the magical sap rushing around his insides and projected it into Bellana.
The woman fought for air. Mike stared at his work and prepared to implement phase two. He closed his eyes and drew warmth from the hidden sun and stars of the sky.
He reached down. Down. Down. Down. To the center of the earth.
He took several deep breaths and pulled in the liquid fire from the earth’s core.
He kept breathing in a dragon’s flames.
Absorbing it.
Manifesting it.
Polishing it.
Harvesting it.
He continued until his body felt like it was about to explode. And then he pulled in some more fire. His eyelids flickered open, and he focused on Bellana’s chest. He concentrated the internal blaze, and right before he passed out, he flung the intense wave of internal magic at the undead woman.
The desperate screeching of the woman assured Mike that the internal fireball had been a success.
Smoke poured out of the undead woman’s ears, filling the forest with the scent of burnt syrup. Her dress caught fire and turned black as a breeze picked up. The prevailing wind carried away her burnt dress, ash by ash, leaving a battered naked body.
Mike dropped to his knees as a sharp pain ran through his head, making his ears ring. He hadn’t yet mastered internal magic. However, his plan to heat up the sap so it cooked her body from the inside appeared to have worked like a charm. Mike watched George’s wife take her last few breaths and a mighty smile spread across his face.
Chapter 26
MIKE’S SMILE DISAPPEARED when George roared like an entire pride of lions in unison. The hairy undead man sprang to his feet. He jumped angrily in the air, waving his arms around, and landed with a tremendous thud, facing Mike.
Harsh vibrations rippled through the forest. Mike felt himself being snagged by George’s vines of magic. He couldn’t move.
Paralyzing fear.
A foul copper taste.
Beads of sweat.
Wrinkles of shock forming.
His head tilted like a questioning dog’s.
Unhinging fear worked its way up and down Mike’s spine, performing the dance of the living dead. George took steady, measured steps toward his prey. Mike’s head screamed at his body to hightail it out of the woods, but he remained still as a statue.
Gooseflesh bubbled up on every part of Mike’s body.
An eye squinting scowl from the predator.
Why didn’t Mike run?
Why didn’t Mike try to fight?
What happened?
Mind magic?
If true, Mike didn’t stand a chance. George stopped his wailing and moaning to stare at Mike. Mike wanted to turn and run out of the woods and never come back. But he didn’t.
He stood. Shaking. Waiting. Waiting for his punishment.
It arrived right on time.
He felt an invisible rough noose tightening around his neck. Tighter. Tighter.
The coarse rope lifted Mike into the air. He kicked around and grabbed for the top of the rope, but nothing met his touch. His face turned purple, and foamy spit shot out of the sides of his mouth as he gagged for air. Life fluttered away. Glowing geometric visions bounced around his mind.
Mike wanted to give in. Time to end this fight. To end this life. No more cancer. No more sore bones. No more spitting up blood. No more worries. He closed his eyes.
An amethyst lightning bolt streaked down from a shimmering silver cloud. Mike felt its heat brush past the back of his neck. He suddenly fell to the ground and rolled around, gasping to find some elusive oxygen. George had returned to his wife to weep over her limp body.
Mike made it to his knees and then up to his feet. He stumbled around until he fully regained composure, wondering why George hadn’t come back to finish him off.
But George didn’t need to do that. Mike barely saw the rippling wave of opaque energy that George had sent his way, and took the brunt of the force. The magical impact knocked Mike back about fifteen feet.
Smoke rose from his singed body, and Mike felt like he was about to combust. He rolled around trying to extinguish the invisible flames. Eventually, the feeling abated.
Mike struggled to his feet and thought again about running away. The prospect of defeating George seemed to fade away as reality set in.
Mike searched his scrambled mind for magic to use against this timeless warlock. Nothing came to him. The intense, rolling head pains of a migraine started to set in. Mike couldn’t straighten out his thoughts. His mind wobbled. It felt like someone was pounding a nail into his temple.
George peered over his left shoulder at Mike. A silver shine came over George’s brown body, and he shot a stream of argent dust toward Mike. The steady stream of floating powder sparkled like a diamond. As it approached, it divided into many smaller tributaries and surrounded Mike.
Mike tried to run out of the surrounding shield, but was stopped by the silver glow. The force picked Mike up off the ground and spun him around like a cyclone. He became dizzy and started to lose consciousness as the speed increased.
Mike passed out, and the circular motion stopped suddenly, flinging his body flew through the air like a ragdoll. He crashed into a large tree branch, breaking it off the trunk. Mike fell to the ground and a smack of pain radiated from his right arm, bringing him back to awareness.
The busted branch had caused a gash that ran from Mike’s elbow to his wrist on the top side of his forearm. Dark blood oozed from the wound, and he could barely lift the injured appendage.
Grinding his teeth against the pain, Mike waited for George to strike the deathblow. The idea of getting up or fighting back hadn’t even crossed his mind.
A heavy hand landed on his left shoulder and lifted Mike back to his feet. At the same time a sense of relief cascaded over him. Someone had finally arrived to save him.
Unfortunately, a beast with the head of a boar and teeth like a saber-tooth tiger’s, greeted him.
George cocked his right hand back. Mike tried to duck the blow, but the killer had a firm grip on his shoulder. He held Mike steady while he threw three crushing right hooks. Mike could feel different bones in his face breaking with each punch. The fourth punch connected right in front of Mike’s ear, breaking his jaw upon impact.
George let go of Mike, who crumpled to the ground and whimpered.
Mike tried to talk with a busted face, but he could only mumble. “Kill me. Just end this already.”
To his surprise, George left him there and went back to tend to his dead wife.
Mike leafed through his mental catalog of healing magic. He knew that trying to heal the intricate bones of his face and jaw would be almost impossible, but the pain was so excruciating he had to try.
The young wizard performed a hasty job of fusing the bones back together. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now.
Then he concentrated on the wide cut on his right arm. He thought about plant and elemental magic that he had talked to the Gods and Goddesses about. The elements.
His mind swirled, but he could still feel the heat in his chest.
He directed all the heat to his left index finger, shifting the flames from his chest toward his extremity. He couldn’t tell if it was working or not as the heat thrashed around his body, trying to find a
final destination.
The warmth danced from his shoulder, to his biceps, to his elbow, through his forearm and circulated around his palm. The fire filtered through his index finger, knuckle by knuckle and finally reached the tip. His fingertip glowed like burning ember and he moved his vision back to the severe wound.
Chapter 27
MIKE HAD A RADICAL plan. He brushed the burning finger straight down the center of the gash. The agony had him bite through his bottom lip and taste the salty zest of life. The area he’d tried to heal turned black and a hideous smoke plumed from it. It appeared he’d stopped the bleeding for the most part.
Now it was time for the surgery.
Mike ran his finger down the entire length of the cut, along the healthy skin outside the wound. His skin bubbled and turned black. He used the middle finger of his left hand to push the wound. He closed and sealed the burning skin to the other side of the wound. The action didn’t completely close the cut, but it slowed the bleeding dramatically.
Mike tried to control his shaking hand as he burned himself badly trying to seal up the rest of the wound. No doctor would have taken credit for this sloppy surgical procedure, but at least Mike wouldn’t die in the woods from loss of blood. He pulled a Five-Hour Energy vial, downed the entire little bottle and threw it aside.
The caffeine opened his capillaries and increased blood flow, relieving some of the pressure of the migraine. Mike stood up, stumbling once or twice, then caught his balance. He still hadn’t thought of what type of magic to use.
Regardless of his lack of preparation, Mike stalked toward George with a false sense of confidence. The warlock appeared to be performing a crude form of CPR on his wife. Mike rushed and hurled a fire ball at George. It missed by a mile, and the failed attempt drained the rest of Mike’s internal heat.
Oh, shit.
Mike turned to retreat. A wave of energy smacked him in the back and knocked him on his face. He couldn’t give up. He had to find a way to defeat George.
Mike made it to his knees. A sharp pain ran though his chest when he took a deep breath. He ignored the physical agony and pressed on.
Modern Merlin: A Standalone Prequel (Bloodline Awakened Supernatural Thriller Series Book 3) Page 18