Shift (Strangetown Magic Book 2)

by Al K. Line

  So stupid, to hold on to this reminder of the past all this time when it could be used against me. But I needed it, still did. A friend I knew I could trust and a warmth I could snuggle up to without fear of complications or betrayal. It was me, and Blue could hack it up, burn it, stab it, torture it, twist it, tease it, skin it, pull out its insides. And if she had time to summon the spirits she needed then anything she did to it would happen to me.

  My body screamed, lactic acid building, muscles tight and refusing to act, but I pushed through the barrier and I ran for my life, chasing Blue down the street and gaining on her as I grew increasingly desperate.

  Why Me?

  The truth about Blue is that people were scared of her. No, I don't mean Normals, that goes without saying, and they give her a wide berth if they can help it. Strange know she is off somehow, I guess what you would call unhinged. She has this aura of being different, but not in a good way. It goes back to her ancestry, a race no longer part of modern society. She is the last of a line of truly powerful Strange who did things very differently to how we do things now—she has wild warrior blood running through her veins.

  She knows things, things none of us do, and has knowledge of magic passed down over so many generations it makes your head spin. The problem with such insight is it gets warped over the centuries, changing subtly until it doesn't even resemble what it once was. Manipulated until it's a different beast entirely and in her hands it's frightening, so volatile it practically sparkles off her.

  She emanates ancient magic like she stepped straight out of the history books, and this is why she has been allowed to remain among us for so long. Nobody has ever wanted to deal with her and eradicate her. We may be brutal at times, but we don't kill indiscriminately and we don't single out those that are different—if we did there'd be none of us left.

  There is something else, something I have long suspected, and it's not merely fear of her. I think even the Queen is in awe of Blue, and I know for a fact many witches would like nothing better than to pick her brains and learn even a part of what she knows.

  They live in hope that Blue will calm down one day, integrate, and share her knowledge for the greater good. I've never believed that, always stayed out of her way because it's obvious she's trouble. However, I don't crave power like many others do, just want to look after my people and revel in magic I'm old enough and wise enough to know is something I could never live without.

  Yet I know I'm flawed, that maybe I enjoy my job a little too much. That the violence I deal with daily is what attracts me, what I need, what makes me feel alive. Yes, it's an excuse. I need this, and I may wax lyrical about wanting to ensure Strange don't cause trouble for us and for Normals, that my job is important, and it is. But really what it all boils down to is that I need the danger and the excitement as an excuse to use magic that is otherwise totally off the cards.

  Most witches can't go around blasting bolts of magic that will stop your heart or freeze your brain. If they did, then they'd answer to me or someone like me, and that's the double-standard right there. Without this veneer of Justice, the position I have, then I'd be as bad as those I chase. I don't think of myself as bad, but lately I've begun to wonder if I'm good.

  Are my motivations pure? No, I don't think so. Is it only selfishness that makes me put on my boots in the morning and go chase the bad guys and gals? Again, no, not that either. It's all gray and fuzzy, neither one thing nor the other.

  The end result is keeping danger off the streets, but it means I get to act out in ways I otherwise couldn't. What has made me like this? Needing this to feel whole? Who knows? I could blame it all on my mother, say she's the reason I am how I am, but I think it goes deeper than that, and maybe one day I'll take the time to figure it all out. But not now, not today. Today I have business that overrides self-analysis. I have to catch Blue, and more importantly get Mr. Moppet back, because if I don't there won't be time to contemplate my motivations and my failings as a woman, as a witch—because I'll be dead, and I won't go out nicely.

  What does all this mean? This rambling and this rapid look at myself while I chase through the damaged streets of my city? It means I'm the best at what I do. Yes, I screw up sometimes, but the fact remains I'm good at my job. Nobody is perfect and nobody gets the result they want every single time, but over time I've become adept at being a Justice and dealing with the miscreants.

  I keep our city safe. There are other Justices, some excellent, some who work in subtle ways and some not so subtle, but none of them have the success rate I have and none of them have either my strength or my luck. This luck, this thing that means I stay alive, always allows me to finish the job one way or another. It goes beyond merely being the center of my own story—which would end if I died, for obvious reasons—it's my connection with magic, with the Pool. It runs deep, same as it does with Robin, and we may be very different but we're both survivors.

  We will not be beaten, we will not be used, and we will never give up. She has her way—often very annoying—of coping and working through this mess we all call life, and I have mine, and we may get on each other's nerves but we are, when you get right down to it, the kind of people who survive.

  I make my own luck, and even when all feels lost and I lie in the dark and wonder if I'm the only one that has been so stubborn in the face of death, I know, I just somehow know, that my time has not come and that I still have a long life ahead of me.

  Maybe this confidence in my continuation gives me an edge. Maybe it's a touch of the seer, maybe it's what has been instilled in me since a child. It gives a recklessness to my nature that some call immature and over-confident when I'm working. I call it an understanding of my future and the willingness to keep going no matter the odds.

  I saved Strangetown, and over the years there have been no end of other incidents that mean life is better because of what I've done. Although I feel it's my duty to do these things, I also know it goes beyond that.

  It is my destiny.

  No, not to be Queen or hold a high position, or be treated with awe or any of that meaningless, superficial stuff, but to keep things together for us all and to allow magic to always be a part of this world and for us to have the freedom to live as we choose.

  So I chased after Blue, and although I was freaked I knew I'd fight until my last—if this was the day I was to die then so be it. But I wouldn't give up and I sure as hell wouldn't let her keep Mr. Moppet.

  He was mine. My link to the past. My constant, my flaw. What made me human. Having this weakness, this stupid need for a battered doll, it was a reminder that I was human and fallible and needy and all I wanted when I go to sleep was a simple comfort so I could feel included in the world.

  Plus I knew it would hurt like hell if Blue pulled at the frayed stitching and let my life unravel along with it.

  So I ran, and I ignored the hurt that had built hour upon hour for days, and I chased her for me, for my family, for the city, and for magic.

  Time to put this peculiar chapter of our lives to bed. Strangetown smiled down at me as I chased through the rain that beat harder and harder... Rain? What the hell?

  As I looked up to the sky, the gentle drizzle turned to a shower then the sky turned black and it felt like the air had split apart and everything was soaked in an instant.

  Blue turned a corner so I sped after her, half-blinded by the intensity of the rain that pelted my face, shoulders, and bare arms. Goosebumps rose as the temperature dropped. I pushed limp hair behind my ears as my slick arms and thighs rubbed against soaked material.

  At least it wasn't hot any more.

  Monsoon

  Blue slowed as the rain got into its stride. I'd thought the hail was bad, but this was biblical. Not so much rain as just a continuous pouring of water from above like a never-ending waterfall coming down fast and hard. The final cleansing I'd anticipated as the Shift righted itself and magic found equilibrium. But I hadn't expected it to manifest in such a w
ay.

  I'd expected a final fast decay of the jungle, not a purge like this to cleanse the horror and chaos.

  No way could the city cope with this; the damage would be immense. Already the streets were awash, drains blocked and overflowing. Sewers would be at full capacity soon and I knew this would be no flash shower—we were in for a monsoon that would pour until the impurities in the Pool were washed away along with the jungle.

  Dams formed where detritus piled up, beautiful patterns swirling as mini-waves broke against curbs and backed up, flooding gardens. People ran for cover while others frantically tried to clear away the piles of dead matter that blocked the streets and threatened to ruin their homes.

  Blue turned and caught sight of me through the deluge then patted her side and winked at me. I focused on Mr. Moppet and ran like my life depended on it—which it did.

  On the chase went, me not even considering stopping, her the same. Where would she go, and how long could she keep this up for? How long could I? Did I mention I hate running? Yeah? Well, I do.

  Visibility was poor now, the way ahead dark and murky. If was only early evening, but it felt like the middle of the night as rain blotted out the city, everything ghostly and gray, feet sloshing through shallow rivers as Strangetown got a final wipe-down before we hopefully returned to normal.

  I almost fell as I skidded to avoid a car at an angle in the road, unsure if it was just somebody's bad parking or if the water had something to do with it.

  As my hip cracked into the side of the vehicle, I launched over and slid across slick metal, smiling as I thought of Mack making some stupid comment about me looking like someone from a dodgy cop show. But this was life and death and Blue was getting away, so I doubled my effort and focused for all I was worth.

  Down narrow roads, around corners, on and on we went. The streets were mostly empty now, nobody in their right mind out in this kind of weather. Water flowed past us faster than I could run. Torrents of filth and great branches carried along by the rising tide I knew would have already flooded the banks of the river that ran around the center of the city. At least much of Strangetown was on a rise, meaning many houses would be saved from severe flooding, but it was running so fast that it had already crept under the doors of many properties I passed.

  I shivered, the temperature so low it was like a return to the coffin—at least it had been dry there. Reaching out to all that powered me, I sank deep into the Pool with an audible sigh, reveling in the feel, the pull, the purity of it, and drew gently but firmly on what it offered.

  Topped up and with magic to spare, I let a little release, my body heating. In an instant, my joints felt looser as muscles engorged with blood, speeding me up and giving a renewed sense of urgency. Blue had obviously done the same and practically shone like a beacon of destruction ahead of me before she turned yet another corner and was lost to sight.

  I knew where she was heading, so took a shortcut through an alley between back gardens and emerged to find her just a few strides ahead. If I could keep this up then I'd have her and there were no bloody helicopters to save her this time. Just her and me. Oh, and her sycophants, who I was sure would join in the fun soon.

  She was going to them, but it wouldn't stop me and it wouldn't matter. She was mine and no way would I let her get away again. This day was bad enough already. The only bright side I could see was dragging the unconscious body of Blue back to Justice HQ behind me.

  Look, I know thoughts of being duped, of being led into an ambush are at the fore of your mind, but trust me, I've been at this game a long time, and the bottom line is that none of that matters. What matters is that you know you're going somewhere your foe wants you to be, and they believe they have the better of you, when what really counts is that you know the city better than them, know your own strengths and weaknesses, and even more importantly, you know theirs.

  I knew Blue's weakness all right, and it was this—she had no clue who she was dealing with. Her direction made me certain where she was heading and it made sense as it was the one place nobody would have thought to look for her once I disappeared. Even if they had, there were plenty of places to hide and you could see anyone coming from the numerous clear vantage points.

  We were heading to ground zero.

  Getting Closer

  Blue sped across the wasteland of ground zero, nimble as a gazelle clambering over rubble, the bulldozed remains of destroyed buildings that collapsed as the Rift sent shock waves fanning out, destroying anything in its path.

  The usually dusty earth was a mire, sucking at my boots and my waning strength. An emptiness just as difficult to traverse as the jungle. There was no green here, though, the place so infused with warped magical vibrations the jungle didn't stand a chance.

  Nobody came here after the Rift, as it was treacherous and a reminder of what we'd lost. But there were still buildings on the periphery. Broken fingers pointing accusingly toward the heavens, reminders of the power of magic and that there are Strange on the other side, some of them with less than pure intentions.

  Sliding down the dangerous mountain of fractured concrete and warped metal, I checked for new injuries then sprinted across the open ground, feeling all kinds of exposed and vulnerable. I was surprised to see the corpses of soldiers, maybe ten or so. At first it didn't register, looking like little more than gray lumps in the gloom and the damn rain, but as I studied them it was clear they hadn't been dead long and by the looks of it their last moments weren't pleasant.

  They must have been sent to investigate the heart of the problem and somebody hadn't taken too kindly to the intrusion—no prizes for guessing who that might have been.

  The air was still wrong here, echoes of the Rift still vibrating oddly. Not enough to mess with your head in the way it had, but enough to give you a sense of unease, as if you didn't belong and weren't wanted. This too would pass, I was sure, but I didn't hang around to contemplate it.

  I chased after Blue and headed right for the building she entered. A tower block once rather sought after, smart and spacious where owners had paid high prices because of the build quality and the pleasant landscaped gardens around it, now nothing but mud with a big hole at the center.

  My lungs burned as much as my thighs as I took a moment at the entrance, breathing ragged, chest heaving. I shook out my arms and legs just to get rid of the build up of toxins and to stop them cramping, but mainly as an excuse to remain outside.

  I knew this was it, was where she wanted me to be, and I had to take a moment before I rushed headlong into whatever lay inside. Would her new gang be there ready to slice me to ribbons with a choice variety of very sharp weapons? Or would they each have magic poised to blast me out the top story to my death far below in the mud?

  The why was still vague, the answers Blue had provided concerning the mayhem she caused felt wrong—if not downright lies then not the whole truth either.

  Only one way to find out what this was really all about, if I ever would, so here went nothing.

  Nasty Juju

  As soon as I stepped into the trashed foyer the relief was instant, and amazing. I'd forgotten what it was like to not be battered mercilessly.

  I shook like a cat escaping from a bath, then wrung out my hair with vibrating hands, dripping water onto broken tiles. Veins and arteries throbbed terribly, blood pounding in my ears. All I heard was my breathing and the hammering of rain against the building, angling through broken glass and soaking the interior.

  Blue's footsteps traced up the stairs in a mess of mud and water—no chance of an easy ride up in an elevator here. I crossed the foyer quickly and followed. I knew she wouldn't be on the first floor, it would be the tenth just to make my life that little bit more difficult.

  I took two steps, then lifted a tired leg to take the next two, but my thigh erupted in a spasm of pain that ran deep into my bones. I swear if I hadn't been able to see my thigh I would have believed the flesh had been seared off and something na
sty was right now sucking out the marrow from the splintered bone.

  But it looked fine, apart from the spasms that made the muscle wobble for a moment before locking tight, my thigh stuck parallel to the floor. I grabbed for the wall and hung on for dear life to stop myself falling backward, gritting my teeth against the pain and forcing magic into the leg to push out the poison coming from the dark arts performed by Blue far above, using Mr. Moppet as an idol.

  I began to overheat as I strained against the dark magic that corrupted my flesh, but I was strong despite my overarching weariness, so I pushed down with muscles powered by my own will as much as magic and placed my soaked, mud-encrusted boot on the step.

  Another, and another, and then I was taking them as fast as possible, racing up before the next attack.

  It came as a surprise as I was expecting it to be my legs again, but white-hot pain seared my chest. My heart spasmed and I felt blood stop pumping for a few terror-filled seconds. Legs heavy with pooled blood, arms feeling like dead weights, they hung by my side when all I wanted to do was slam them into my chest to get my heart beating again even though I knew it already was or I'd be dead.

  The pain continued, awful stabs at a fist-sized muscle that was all that kept us frail humans alive. In and out, deeper and deeper, like a sword being thrust repeatedly into my flesh, penetrating through and out the other side. Neither hot nor cold, there being no difference in the end. Mind soaring to escape the pain, telling myself over and over that it wasn't real, that it was just Blue playing with my doll, and that it couldn't hurt me, not really.

  Except that was a lie. It could hurt me, would kill me as she drew more damned souls out from their dark places and their strength grew. The promise of renewed life tantalizingly close when they looked through the cracks into the world they craved to be a part of above all else.

  For now, I was still alive, fighting off the attack while I still could. So I kept going, refusing to collapse in a heap and let pain engulf me.