by J. C. Nelson
Ari stomped around the corner, her hair standing out from her head like she’d been shocked. The scent of burning cotton wafted from her. “You found a weaker spell?”
I pointed to the coal chute, then took a penlight from my purse and shone it down. “Normally, dark basements would be off-limits. We don’t go willingly so we don’t wind up dead. However, this door didn’t open on its own, so we’re probably okay.”
“Probably?” Ari hadn’t been an agent long enough to know that “probably” meant “not.”
I looped my purse over my shoulder, grabbed the sides of the coal chute, and slid down without answering. The chute ended a good eight feet off the ground, but a pile of chorus robes and a family of rats nesting in them broke my fall.
Without thinking I rose, gun in one hand, light in the other, and scanned the shadows.
No glowing red eyes. No skeletal forms or ghostly figures. In fact, the basement lacked almost all the standard haunting signs. “Clear,” I shouted up the chute.
A moment later, Ari slid down, landing on her feet.
“How did you do that? I wound up rolling off the pile.”
“Practice,” said Ari. “Now, what are we looking for?”
“No idea,” I said. “Let’s find—”
Above us, the floor creaked, and the brush of wings on wood made my spine tingle. Stairs, I mouthed. With gun in hand and purse on shoulder, I led the way. With every step on the wooden stairs, they creaked and groaned like a senior citizen karate class. At the top of the stairs, I eased the door open—and gasped.
Behind me, Ari’s murmur of wonder echoed my own.
“Grimm,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The inside of the church lay bathed in radiant light without source. The interior radiated light and peace, and despite the fact that the organ lay in pieces, strains of gentle music wafted through the air. Stranger still, in places, the floor bubbled up with soft, billowing clouds. “Grimm, what do you think?”
He looked out from my compact and caught his breath. “It’s worse than I feared.”
Three
I’m not sure how long I looked at the transformed chapel. How anything that beautiful could induce fear in the Fairy Godfather was a question I couldn’t begin to fathom. The longer I looked at it, the more the desire grew to simply sit and drink in the sounds and sights.
I tore my gaze from it for a moment. “This is amazing. What’s it look like to you? Is it magic?”
“No,” said Ari. “But I love it.”
“Ladies!” Grimm’s voice came from somewhere distant. I’d dropped the compact without noticing. Or caring. Everything that mattered, everything I needed was—
I gasped as a wave of magic poured from my bracelet, crawling up my arms like a swarm of biting ticks. Ari cried out behind me, whether from pain or fear I couldn’t say. And magic crept inexorably higher until it burned across my eyes.
I collapsed on the stairs, choking. When my eyes opened, I stood in a house of horrors. The white cloudlike couches had been replaced with rolls of rotten fat; the soft strains of music, the labored breathing of a diseased beast. Even the stench made me ill. I shook my head, and the world blurred.
“Don’t move, Marissa. Arianna, keep your eyes closed a moment longer.” Grimm’s voice came from right beside my head. “I need you to accept the illusion I’m generating.”
Grimm never overlaid our eyes and ears. He’d lectured me more times than I could tell about how I had to trust my senses. And yet, it no longer held sway over me. The cancerous sores and cankerous growths hanging from the ceiling made me want to wretch.
“Is this real?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Grimm. “This is the true nature, if not the true appearance. Earth is easily corrupted by other realms. What you saw is one truth, one which appeals to you. This is another, equally true way of representing what has occured.”
Ari held out her hands. “Am I clear to look?”
“Yes,” said Grimm, “but I need you to ignore your Spirit Sight. You could easily unwind my deception, leaving you subject to the effects.”
A burst of movement near the ceiling left me scrambling to draw my gun. The ceiling itself moved and heaved, shifting.
I picked up my compact and aimed it at the ceiling. “Grimm, what is that?”
“Marissa,” said Grimm, “please be precise when asking questions. What are those?”
Ari swore under her breath. “You didn’t say anything about this. Come here, little guy.” Her voice took on a musical, singsong quality, perfect for charming hellhounds, cabdrivers, and other vicious creatures. “It’s okay. Come here.”
“Be ready,” whispered Grimm.
A piece of the ceiling detached, fluttering down on puffy white wings. Beautiful, puffy white wings. A cherub, the first one I’d ever seen. It radiated peace and warmth. Grimm’s illusion didn’t affect it one bit. More than anything, I wanted to hug it. If you took a life-sized baby doll, and gave it a face that somehow looked less human, you’d have a cherub. Its round, flat face housed blue eyes with a piercing quality.
“Now would be an excellent time to shoot it,” said Grimm.
Thing was, this creature didn’t look threatening. I’d seen demon children who looked normal and turned out to have fangs and claws. I’d seen normal children who consumed sugar and made demon children look normal. This thing looked less dangerous, way more lost.
“Shoot now,” Grimm said.
And he’d never led me wrong before, if you discounted that one time at the blood bank. Blood bank, real bank, putting both of them right next to each other was a planning disaster. On the plus side, someone had three liters of Type O maturing alongside their municipal bonds.
I pulled the trigger, putting a dime-sized hole through our fluttery friend. It blew apart in chunks of otherworldly flesh, its wings fluttering lazily to the ground.
“Marissa!” Ari shrieked at me, her tears gathering in her eyes. “Why would you do that?”
“Grimm said—”
“I don’t care what Grimm said, you killed . . .” Ari’s voice trailed off as her gaze lifted past me.
I knew better than to look. Time spent looking could be time spent running, which I did, dragging Ari along behind me toward the basement stairs. Two feet from the door, Ari shoved me to the ground as a flock of cherubs spun down. One of them seized Ari’s hair in a chubby fist, earning it first bullet rights.
I lunged forward, dragging Ari. Her hair stuck out at angles as the flock tore hanks of it loose. They shoved her hair into gaping mouths with angelic coos. I threw my weight backwards, and Ari screamed as her hair tore.
As Ari bounced down the steps, I pulled the door shut, cutting a cherub hand off. The hand still held strands of strawberry blond hair.
“Grimm, do they have teeth?” My compact remained on the floor outside. Probably halfway down the gullet of a cherub.
“They don’t need teeth,” said Grimm. “Their spittle can dissolve metal. They are designed to clean up after Paradisia’s feasts.”
“I hate every last one of those fat little bastards.” Ari sat up in the dusty basement, holding her hand to her head. “Open the door.”
I shook my head. “Bad plan. Try again.”
“Open the door, Marissa.” Ari rose, little wisps of lightning arcing off of her. “Or I swear to God I’ll blow it to smithereens.” Tears coursed down her face, but I’d seen that look before. It wasn’t sadness. It was can of whoop-ass with a pop-top lid.
I didn’t know how God would feel about Ari taking her anger out on some of his creations, but wasn’t I a creation too? “You sure?”
What remained of Ari’s hair stuck out at angles, and even her eyes had taken on an electric glow. “Open. The. Door.”
I didn’t dare argue with Ari about do
ing the dishes. No way was I getting between her and a little vengeance. I threw it open and shot the first two cherubs before they could react. I turned to the next two, but before I could shoot, lightning arced over my shoulder, bouncing from one to the other. Above us, the flock of cherubs ceased attacking, instead fleeing to the corners, where Air continued to zap them.
Gone were the moments of “Oh, how cute”—for the cherubs or Ari, who usually had the term “cute” applied to her. It turned out both of them could be deadly. With each passing blast of lightning, Ari slowed, taking deeper breaths.
“How many left?” She stumbled, putting a hand down on what remained of a pew.
I did some mental math. “Way too many. Got a better idea. Blessing? Curse? I could use some help.” See, a while back, I might have made some bad wardrobe decisions—I dressed up like a genocidal maniac known as Red Riding Hood and shot up, well, who’s really keeping count? A lot of wolves. But the positive side was I rescued a fae child, and in return I received what I considered the worst pets in existence.
Harathakin, spell creatures meant to bring me good fortune, had very little appreciation of my personal safety. What they did have was a destructive streak half a mile wide.
“Not a good idea,” said Ari. “Those thing—”
One of the stained glass windows imploded, then another. Lacking Spirit Sight, I couldn’t actually tell if it was my blessings arriving or just some neighborhood kid giving the place a much needed facelift. When the cherubs started screaming, that settled it. Definitely my blessings.
“What are they doing?” I glanced to Ari, who could see them, if she tried.
Ari covered her ears as another cherub shrieked. “I can’t use my Spirit Sight. You heard Grimm.”
Without warning, a cherub went flying face first, backwards, which was good. Downwards. Also good. Straight at me, which I had a problem with.
I snatched blackened bone from the altar table. The moment my hands touched it, the illusion faded, and I held a silver candlestick. Once used for ornate services, the silver plating had faded to black, but it had exactly what I needed: weight.
With a swing that would have earned me a home run, I smashed my cherub speed-ball into a line drive straight into the wall. A burst of pain heralded my tattoo helping out, which was unfortunate, but not avoidable. Another cherub screamed, but this time, I knew the rules of the game and was ready.
I once went to a party where they had piñatas. If you whacked them open, you got candy. My piñata had turned out to contain a swarm of bees, but the principle remained the same. Pick something and whack it till its insides came out. My next swing sent two more crashing to the floor. With my blessings yanking them like balloons on strings and me playing batter up, we smashed cherubs until I could barely stand, and my entire arm was covered in a purple swirl the color of a rotten blueberry.
When I could swing no more, I called off Blessing and Curse, sank to my knees and took careful aim with my gun. The best shots went to clusters of cherubs. Then one by one, I picked them off.
“You see any more?”
“One,” said Ari. “Hiding on the chandelier.”
I checked my gun. Last magazine, only two shots. “Why are they sticking to the ceilings?”
“Fear of heights? I mean, lows? You ready?” Ari rose, reaching out with both hands. “He’s slippery.”
“Just need a clear shot.”
Ari pulled at the cherub, miming climbing a rope, and with each yank it slipped farther down. I waited patiently. Grimm could say what he wanted about cherubs. Heaven’s pigeons they might be, but the last one had watched us obliterate the entire flock. It clung to the chandelier with all its might.
Which, for a puffy little baby thing, was a lot of might. Ari, on the other hand, grew weaker by the moment. Each pull she gave moved it only a speck farther. I took a deep breath and lined up a shot, timing it—and pulled.
A burst of feathers blew out, but the little bastard jerked to one side.
Ari flung her hands toward the ceiling and shrieked, clawing at the air. It came flying away, spinning through the air toward her, mouth gaping.
I stepped into line and fired, blasting a hole through it at point-blank range. Its pooched belly exploded, showering us with translucent goo.
And the chapel from hell (not literally, but close enough) finally fell silent.
Ari lay on the ground, gasping for breath, but she wiped her eyes. “I hate mana. I swear if I ever see it served again, I’m going to tell them where it comes from.”
After scrounging in the pantry, I came up with a silver platter and called Grimm. “It’s done. The cherubs are all dead. I don’t know how much you earned from that, but it wasn’t enough.”
Grimm nodded. “Arianna, are you unwell?”
“Tired,” said Ari. “Too much magic at once.” She sat up and squeezed the goop from what remained of her hair. “Look at me.”
“You used magic?” The note of concern in Grimm’s voice became a symphony of worry. “What have I told you?”
I stepped in to intervene before Ari decided to kill him. “You were just letting her do magic outside.”
“Under my supervision. When you return to the Agency, we’ll need to examine you. As for the hair, princess, time heals all wounds.” He glanced to me. “Marissa, I’d like you to arrange a barbecue.”
Arson was such an ugly word, but everyone loved barbecues. “Got it. Though I have a request. Could I have one more look? At how it really is?”
Grimm sighed. “Now that the Paradisians have been removed, the attraction will fade. I suppose it won’t hurt.” With a shimmer, sickly yellow and grays faded away, replaced with soft white hues and muted light.
The vision of beauty had lost its shine now. Some essence, like the shine of oil, had leaked away. Also, the mounds of dead cherub flesh didn’t contribute to the ambience.
“Grimm, I want to see everything,” said Ari as she climbed the stairs of the church to look around.
“Then open your eyes. I’m no longer interceding.”
Ari knelt and brushed the stone. “Then this is real?”
With only a glance, Grimm and I agreed. I carried the platter over to where Ari waited. A charred ring of carpet stood in the center of the chapel. Pumice stone lay in piles within the circle. At the center, a single coal still glowed.
“Get out, Marissa. Princess, can you exit the way you entered?” Grimm’s tone brooked no argument, not even from me.
Ari nodded, and together we limped down the stairs to the basement. I piled up enough junk to reach the coal chute and pushed Ari out, then followed. Years of experience had taught me that when Grimm said to get out, getting out was usually justified if I wanted to survive.
After I’d set a fire and called it in, we called a cab so Ari could sleep in the back. The cabby didn’t ask why we were covered in drying ooze. Or why I had white feathers in my hair. He didn’t even comment when I tossed a bloody pinky in his tip jar. When the driver wasn’t looking, Grimm watched me from the rearview mirror, but he kept his silence.
After we arrived at the Agency, I sent Ari for an MRI, swore to myself that this time I’d have showers installed, and headed to Grimm’s office. He waited in the mirror, his hands behind his back.
“You want to tell me what that was?”
“Not really,” said Grimm. “Some secrets are better kept, but I fear this bodes ill.”
I thought about his words. Never had been a fan of secrets, but as the Fairy Godfather, Grimm’s secrets had secrets. “Ill for me? Or for Ari?”
He turned away, and for a moment, the mirror showed his home realm, a distant field of green with an eternal sunset. He almost whispered the answer. “For everyone, Marissa.”
Four
One can only stomach so much pending doom before someone has to enjoy some pending ot
her-than-doom. So I called my boyfriend, hoping he’d be close enough to the Agency to have lunch. By call, I mean I had Grimm connect us using our bracelets.
“M, how’s your day?” Liam’s voice came through my ears and directly into my brain at once, lending him an echo.
“Bloody. Yours?”
Liam snorted. “I’m wading through sewage looking for a giant alligator. I’d take bloody over what I’m standing in any day.”
“So lunch—”
“You know how everything tastes like what you smell?”
I sighed and hung my head. “Yes.”
“I’m probably not eating tonight. But if you meet me at my studio, I’ll grab a bottle of wine. Hey, I think I found the lair!” Liam’s excitement at finding another forty-foot crocodile lair never ceased to amaze me. “Gotta run. Love you.”
Liam cut out, leaving me still thrilled at his last words. I knew he loved me, but it helped to hear it every day. With my lunch plans ruined, I sought out Ari, finding her locked in the Visions Room at the back of the Agency.
The Visions Room existed purely to take weird to a new level. With walls built from celestial crystal prisms, the Visions Room could let even people like me see ghosts, spirits, and occasionally people’s souls. Which is what Grimm had pulled up on the monitor. He studied it from the mirror, rubbing his chin.
“Can I come out yet?” The walls muffled Ari’s voice, but not enough to hide her annoyance.
“Soon,” said Grimm. “This is most fascinating. I had been reluctant to teach the princess magic because I wanted time for her soul to heal.”
Ari’s soul needed healing because she’d used her natural talents before touching a realm seal. The first time a seal bearer came into contact with a seal, the two formed a bond, which unlocked their magic. Most seal bearers began training young, but Ari’s mother died without initiating her.
I couldn’t do magic myself, but I helped her decipher just enough to be dangerous before we knew the consequences.
“Stop regretting, Marissa.” Grimm glared at me, and I returned it because I didn’t like him reading my mind. “You cannot undo what is done. But it appears that using seal magic has positive effects. I believe a regimen of careful seal magic could heal the damage entirely.”