Bad Seed

by Gareth Vaughn

  Dane was ready. He knew his perceptions were all off, but he was a fighter, not a chatter, and he was ready to be done with all this shit.

  “Percival,” he said, and when the witch turned, “Fuck you.”

  He lurched forward, entire body protesting and in pain, but he struck Percival’s legs. The witch went down, toppling over Sean, who swore. The entire situation moved at a ridiculous pace and Dane heard himself laughing, Percival swearing. He let off a spell that struck the trees above them and showered everyone in leaves and branches, several of them large. One fell against Dane’s shoulder and wriggled like a snake, but he felt like he had fangs now and he was not going to pass up the opportunity to use them.

  Dane bit down on Percival’s exposed ankle as hard as he could and heard him scream. He grinned, twisted his head. Percival’s other foot kicked out and connected with him, hard, sending him backward, choking on the blood in his mouth.

  In an instant, the witch was in front of Dane, surprisingly strong as he hauled Dane up and slammed him against a tree. The air left Dane’s lungs in a burst of pain, a branch stabbed through his shirt and into his skin. Leaves fell around them as he gagged and he heard Sean singing something as Percival’s hand tightened around his throat.

  Probably Sean wasn’t singing. Dane didn’t care. He saw hatred, pure hatred, in Percival’s gaze and wondered whether that was the sort of thing his mother would want to distill if she knew about it. He tried to laugh but his body couldn’t manage it, but the magic was convincing him the tree his bound hands were grinding into was made of marshmallow or some other sticky shit, so it wasn’t the worst sensation.

  Dane’s senses began to go, but he saw Percival’s lips move, and then he was released. He felt suspended for a moment, then his bound legs collapsed beneath him and he hit the ground hard. Sean’s voice faded in and out, but Dane couldn’t understand any of the words. He didn’t care to anymore. He closed his eyes.

  Chapter 27

  Dane wasn’t responding any longer. Sean knew that was a bad sign, but he couldn’t do anything about it from where he was, nor was he sure how many of his own senses to trust any more—the ground was roiling underneath him, and he knew that couldn’t be right.

  The magic was fucking with his mind, and it was very noticeable now.

  That must have been why Dane was acting so screwy. While Sean was glad he was no longer singing or saying outrageous things, his silence was worrisome. Sean swallowed, hoping he wasn’t dead. Percival had seemed to like Sean begging—promised to save some of that for later—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t fucked up Dane enough to have caused serious damage.

  All Sean was left with was the knowledge that he had to get them out of here now. He had no idea how, tired and sore as he was. Percival falling over him had hurt more than he was expecting, and he rolled onto his back, hoping that would alleviate a little of the pain and allow him to think.

  He rolled right onto something hard, and smooth, with a jagged tip. Sean took a moment to place what it was, mind ricocheting through strange suggestions, like elephant or arousal, before settling on it: this was one of Percival’s crystals. It must have become dislodged from his belt or wrist when he fell.

  Sean didn’t give a fuck about that. What he was hoping was that it was sharp enough to cut through the rope on his wrists. It took him long minutes to figure out how to pick the crystal up, longer still to position it where he could rub it against the rope, and every motion behind his back as he sawed was agony. His wrists were already chafed, and the more he moved, the worse they got. Still, it was the only option he had, so he kept at it until he’d gotten used to the pain, until he could keep going regardless how it felt.

  The moon rose higher, illuminating more of the island. Dane made a little snorting noise from where he was slumped over at the base of the tree, indicating he wasn’t dead, but when Sean called to him again he still didn’t respond. Sean frowned, focusing on what he was doing, trying to go faster. If he didn’t get them free before Percival returned…

  Sean had no way to tell how many hours passed, but at one point he was certain the rope had turned to a snake. He nearly dropped the crystal, but he bit his lip until it bled and kept going. At last he felt enough of the cord go slack for him to wriggle his wrists free. He brought them around to his front and his vision speckled.

  “Fuck.” He groaned, leaned forward into the leaves and dirt and bits of branch Percival had brought down, unexpected pain jolting through his hands and arms, aching along his shoulders. Being stiff and cold like that for so long fucking hurt; he tried rubbing his wrists but his fingers were purple from cold and restricted blood flow and the rush now made them feel tight and tingly.

  Still, he knew he couldn’t sit here trying to recover while the ground lurched under him and Dane got worse. The moon flickered like a flame, Sean felt thousands of eyes on him, and he scrambled for the crystal among the leaves. His fingers were too numb and clumsy to untie his feet; he’d have to hack the rope off like he’d done for his hands.

  This took less long, but his feet had gone numb, too. He staggered up, crossed to Dane, and fell back to the ground, which seemed to greet him like gelatin. Shit. That was a bad sign. He checked Dane was still breathing and tilted him to get to his wrists.

  “Dane,” he said, hoping he’d wake up.

  He did.

  “Fuck,” said Dane, more a whisper than anything. He opened his eyes, then shut them. “What’s going on.”

  It was a demand, not a question.

  “I’m getting us out of here,” said Sean. “I’m sawing off your bonds with a crystal Percival dropped when you attacked him. You fucking idiot.”

  Dane laughed, groaned, then laughed again.

  “Had to try. You feel that earthquake?” He paused to make a sound like he was trying to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Sean winced at it. “Frog skins everywhere, still trying to hop.”

  “That’s probably just leaves, Dane.”

  “Why you’re not as far along as my brain?”

  “I took a bit less of a beating than you did,” said Sean, sawing harder at the rope, desperately wanting to get Dane out of here. He didn’t sound good. “And since I want to take a pounding from you when this is all over, you have to stay with me here.”

  “You could stand to fucking sing less.”

  “Yeah, I could,” said Sean, sighing. He had to hope the effects of this magic well would fade with time, or Dane’s Order had something they could do for him. Dane had mentioned permanent damage, and Sean didn’t like the sound of that. He felt a pang of relief as the rope loosened enough he could pull Dane’s hands free.

  “Oh, damn…” Dane was whispering his swears again.

  Sean rubbed his hands a little and brought them back around to Dane’s front as gently as possible.

  “Just a few more minutes. I’m getting your legs.”

  “I’m going to fucking kill that witch. I’m going to—”

  “Dane, come on.” Sean yanked the rope off and pocketed the crystal. He rose, using the tree to balance himself. “Can you stand? We have to get out of here.”

  Dane started laughing and didn’t wince in pain this time.

  “You can kill him later, I promise. We just need to get out of this magic shit first,” said Sean.

  Dane rolled over, staggered to his feet, and collapsed again. Sean looked at him, terrified. He’d have to drag him. He could barely stand himself and he’d have to drag Dane across the island, through fifteen feet of water, and far enough up the far bank they could rest.

  He didn’t think he could do it.

  But he knew he had to try. He took a few breaths, waited for the ground to level itself out and the trees to stop spinning, and bent down to pull one of Dane’s arms over his shoulders. Dane, for his part, managed to get his feet under himself and take a few steps, but not quite to the end of the island Sean collapsed, taking Dane with him. They lay, panting, exhausted, together as the moon
started flickering again and the leaves turned to a million tethered birds in the trees.

  “This magic is really fucking my head up,” said Sean.

  Dane laughed.

  “Told you. My weapons around?”

  “I have them,” said Percival, there again.

  Very abruptly, Sean noticed it was dawn. It was as if he blinked and the sky was entirely different. Percival stopped a small distance in front of them and opened his robes, revealing a pale, undernourished chest and everything from Sean’s hunting knife to Dane’s gun strapped to his jeans belt.

  As Sean gaped he pulled his robes shut again and fastened them with the crystal-studded cord.

  “I’d prefer not to use them.” He paused, tilted his head up as he examined them. “I had a little nap. Didn’t think you’d be able to actually get out of that. Doesn’t matter, though, does it? The strength of the magic here has really scrambled your minds. I’m over here, professor.”

  At his words the Percival Sean had been staring at vanished. He blinked, realized the real Percival was about five feet from that. Shit. If the magic was doing this to him, he had no idea how he’d get them across the creek. Percival shifted again, as did the trees. Sean took a few steps to the side, then lurched toward Percival, hoping to move past him if he was still misjudging where he stood. Beyond the witch had to be the way. He’d gotten onto the island, after all.

  He collided with Percival, grunting in shock to realize he’d been seeing clearly. The two of them went down in a tangle of limbs, too many limbs. Sean counted six, eight limbs and wondered briefly whether Percival was an octopus now, but a blow to his stomach that winded him pushed him back. His guts lurched and he gasped for air, Percival drawing himself up before him. He looked pissed, his robes fluttering open in the chill morning breeze, his leg drawing back in slow motion.

  Sean gagged as Percival kicked him again, tried to suck in air. Percival’s hand grabbed his hair and yanked, pulling him sideways into a tree. Sean figured this was it, mind seizing completely when he heard the gunshot.

  Percival froze, the trees shifting around him. Sean pulled in a needed breath, heard another shot. He staggered away, blinking, and saw Dane not far off, propping himself against a tree, gun in hand. He fired again, and again. Percival fell to the ground and didn’t move.

  Silence cut against Sean’s ears, painful as the shots had been. Relief was difficult to feel with how his skin itched with the tension of magic, how much his body hurt. Even as he moved toward Dane the man took a step forward, then another, re-aimed the gun. He shot Percival again, and again.

  “Dane,” said Sean, loudly as he could with a hoarse throat. “He’s dead. Dane.”

  “He’s still moving.”

  Sean moved over, wrapped his arms around Dane tightly. Dane struggled, managed another shot.

  “Get the fuck off me!”

  “Dane, he’s dead.” Sean wrapped his arms tighter, kissed the back of Dane’s neck as he started to writhe.

  “He’s still moving,” he shouted, and Sean squeezed his eyes shut, felt himself crying against the back of Dane’s neck. Dane, who was nearly too strong to hold even after everything he’d been through, whose mind was so altered from the intense pulse of magic that he couldn’t see how very dead Percival was. Sean held him tight as he screamed and insisted, until he dropped the gun, and went limp, and they both collapsed to the ground again.

  Then Sean pushed himself up on his palms and threw up. Dane panted next to him, the fight finally gone from him. Sean feared his mind was gone, too. Everything swayed as he got to his feet and dragged Dane past Percival’s body, one agonizing step at a time, until he’d found the raft the witch had come over on. He pulled Dane aboard, got them across the creek, and laid them down in the grass on the far bank, just out of the magic well.

  Safe. Sean put an arm around Dane. Safe.

  Chapter 28

  Dane struggled to consciousness, felt about to hurl from pain, and tried to go back under again. But he heard voices—one of them Sean’s, which filled him with a kind of relief he doubted he’d admit to—and he wanted to know what was going on. He took mental inventory of his injuries, finding every part of him hurt and now he had a pulsing headache. Had to be from the magic well. Fucking magic.

  When he opened his eyes he was on the bank, the creek flowing between him and the island. Seeing the island caused his stomach to flop. Sean was talking with Hazel and Adonia not far off, so Dane pulled himself to a sitting position, back against a tree, and listened.

  “I can’t believe what you’re telling me,” said Adonia.

  “I’ll have a look.” Hazel’s voice was gentle and Dane blinked as she touched her mother’s arm.

  Sean’s expression was one of concern. He was standing, though, and that was a good sign. Much longer and their brains would have fried for good. As it was Dane would probably have to have an official Order examination to test for damage. He hated those. Fucking witches.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Sean. Dane opened his mouth, wanting to tell him there was nothing to be sorry for, but his tongue was thick and dry and he doubted he could talk loudly enough to cross the distance. “We tried to get away without hurting him.”

  “Quiet,” said Adonia.

  Sean fell silent immediately. Dane glared at him. Imagine listening to witches. Sean didn’t have to be such a fucking pushover.

  “So you’re awake,” said Hazel, suddenly in front of Dane. He grinned at her, the action sending pain through his face and down his neck. “The professor wants me to bring your weapons back for you. If it’s true…if you killed him, I will bring your gun back, Decrypter, and I will shoot you with it.”

  Dane was unable to get his mouth around the words to ask for some apple seeds before she walked off to the raft. He struggled to his feet, pushing himself up against the bark of the tree, trying to remember what had happened. He had shot Percival. It had taken a lot to kill the bastard, more than he’d expected, but he was unsure how much of that was his own memory and how much was warped by magic.

  “Dane.” Sean sounded relieved, and Dane could see it in his eyes, too, when he turned and moved over to Dane. Sean stood close but didn’t touch him. “Can you hear me? Understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah, asshole,” said Dane, the words hoarse and scratchy in his throat. But he managed them.

  “Oh, good. I was worried…the magic…”

  “Didn’t get you, did it?”

  Sean shrugged, offered a strange expression that was almost apologetic.

  “I didn’t get the shit beaten out of me. I figure that somewhat decreases your ability to resist it. You were…not doing well at the end there.”

  “Ground’s stable again, but hearing you take direction from a witch makes me fucking wonder about my head.”

  Sean frowned at the joke, winced. So he had a headache, too. Dane figured it would have been hard to escape without one. Sean lowered his voice when he spoke.

  “You killed her kid. I’ll take any direction she gives me.”

  “You’re disgusting. You don’t have to act like one of them.”

  “Shut up,” said Sean. He looked insulted, but then, Dane had practically compared him to the man he’d just killed. “You want to get out of here alive?”

  “They know they can’t hurt me. Order gives some protection.”

  Sean stared at Dane right in the eye, a piercing stare, and it was obvious he no longer believed Dane on that one. Well, it wasn’t exactly true, anyway. The Order was supposed to be enough of a threat to make people think twice, but it hadn’t been a deterrent for Percival, and that more or less proved it wasn’t enough of one. Not really. Dane shifted against the tree trunk, uncomfortable, and winced.

  “I feel like shit.”

  “You’re a solid bruise. I’m almost afraid to look under your shirt—I can see it down your arms, and you definitely tried to bust out of your ropes. Your wrists were bleeding a little while ago.” Sean pa
used, opened his mouth, but Dane could see motion over his shoulder. Hazel was returning on the raft, and her face was completely closed off.

  She stepped back onto land and Sean turned to look at her. She carried the belt of weapons and the belt of crystals, and Dane’s gun was in her hand. Her eyes were so cold Dane felt a chill crawl up his back. She’d been completely noiseless on the island, but obviously she’d found her brother. Everything she held was spattered with blood.

  Without saying a word, Hazel raised the gun at him. Dane wasn’t really in a position to do much about it, but an instant later Sean was on him, hugging him, Sean’s back to Hazel. It was a silent, intimate gesture, and Dane didn’t really think he was worth it. Sean becoming a human shield on his behalf just wasn’t right. He tried to push him away, but Sean wouldn’t move.

  “Hazel,” said Adonia, stepping closer, apparently moved by Sean’s display.

  “It’s true.” Hazel’s voice was painfully hollow. “Percival…You don’t want to see what this piece of shit did to him.”

  “If he’s gone, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “We can make him pay.”

  “With his life?” Adonia closed the distance between herself and her daughter until there were only a few short feet between them. “That’s not a fair price.”

  “A life for a life!” Hazel was shouting now.

  Dane winced, head blazing with pain, and noticed Sean had closed his eyes, face calm. Waiting patiently to see whether he’d die.

  “You’re about to take two.”

  “And it still won’t make up for it—you think they should be able to leave here, continue to live their lives, after this? Why should they?”

  “Give me the gun,” said Adonia.

  Hazel glanced over, made eye contact with her mother. Long seconds ticked by, Dane thinking this was the shittiest talk-down he’d ever heard, but eventually Hazel passed the gun over.

  “Thanks,” said Dane.

  Adonia’s eyes fixed on him.

  “We didn’t do this for you,” she said, and Dane couldn’t tell if she meant she didn’t want to get into deep shit with the Order, or she didn’t want to see Sean killed. He didn’t much care. Adonia tossed the gun to the ground. “Now get off our land.”