by Rob Cornell
I let my makeshift torch flame out then pounded a fist on the iron and called out for Odi. I gave him or Toft a handful of seconds to respond, but I didn’t hear anything. The door was probably too thick to hear through. I pulled out my cell and dialed back the number Odi had called me from.
It rang once before Toft answered. “Light?”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
“Outside your door.”
“We’re downstairs. Watch yourself. They blew out all my cameras, so I can’t see where they are.”
“I meant I’m outside the big iron door. Do you actually get cell reception in there?”
“It’s a land line, you…” He growled. He was so easy to bait. “You’re down here now?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You took them out?” he asked with nervous wonder as if he’d asked me on a date and couldn’t believe I’d said yes.
“No,” I said. “There’s nobody here. They must have given up.”
A long silence followed. I wasn’t sure if I’d lost him. I checked my phone’s screen. The time counter kept running. The connection was still open.
“Step back from the door a good twenty feet,” he finally said, then disconnected.
“We’re to stand back, “I said to Mom. I guessed standing by the boys’ bedrooms gave us plenty more than twenty feet. And I was glad I went that far back.
A green and blue static blast shot from the door and clawed along the walls and ceiling. It went on for about ten seconds before dying and left the wallpaper burnt and smoking in spots. The smell of ozone roiled through the hall.
Toft had tripped a ward of some kind, something he had to set once he entered the room, then disarm in order to get back out. Probably something his mage friend (and the guy who had branded me) had set up for him.
I wondered why it hadn’t worked against his attackers.
A moment later, a heavy clang rang out from inside the door. A row of lights down the length of the hall flickered on. Then came a hiss, like steam. The door slowly swung open and Toft came out with Odi behind him.
Toft’s pallor had gone a few shades paler than the average vamp’s pasty gray. His lips had also lost some color and looked a little shriveled around the edges. His eyes glowed a deep red. He had dropped his glamour and looked positively feral with his wrinkled face and sharp fangs.
Odi, on the other hand, looked the same as always, except more nervous than usual, the color drawn out from his face like Toft’s, but without the red eyes, wrinkles, and fangs.
Toft rushed at me. For a second, I thought he was going to tackle me and chew out my jugular, but he slammed me aside against the wall and charged past.
The three of us exchanged confused looks, then came to a silent decision and headed after Toft.
Toft reached the living room before we could catch up. He scanned the room with wide eyes and trembling fists at his sides. He looked like a scared kid who had lost his mom at the grocery store. Well, except with fangs and red eyes and wearing a red velvet smoking jacket.
Then he froze, his gaze locked on something. “You idiots,” Toft screamed. “You brought me right to them.”
Chapter Thirty-One
I rushed the rest of the way down the hall and found one of the most chilling sights of my life.
Out of the shadows in one corner of the room emerged a vampire twice as tall as myself. He had long arms that ended in yellow claws. His elongated jaw hung open to show off three-inch fangs. A glow the color of hellfire filled his recessed eye sockets. He was completely naked, showing off his shrunken bits and his greasy dark skin.
I’d only read about vamps like this one. They were supposed to come from indigenous populations across the globe. I couldn’t fathom how this one had made its way to the United States. Someone must have brought it here.
Scarily enough, the beast was only one part of what triggered the sick horror in my gut and all the gooseflesh across every inch of my skin.
Three other figures stood in the room with the creature. All mortals. All faces I had seen not that long ago—all Ministry officers. There were the two women from the nest, and Able.
Fucking Able.
“Mr. Light,” Able said. “This doesn’t involve you. It’s Ministry business. I suggest you leave.”
I looked from the towering vamp thing, then to each of the Ministry officers in turn. I pointed at Beastvamp. “He’s with you?”
Able straightened. His nostrils flared. His lumberjack beard gave him a wild animal look. “The Ministry owes you no answers. Leave before this grows more awkward than it already has.”
I noticed my jaw hurt. Then I noticed I was clenching my teeth. I relaxed my jaw enough to form words.
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re speaking for the Ministry right now.”
Beastvamp threw his head back and screamed. The shriek pierced me down to my core, rattling my bones and shaking my teeth. I staggered, the sound so harsh it messed up my equilibrium like an inner ear infection.
Mom slipped to one knee.
Despite Beastvamp’s frightening display, a volcanic heat rolled up from deep in my belly. I felt my magic begin to coalesce without my command. The edges of my vision turned a brilliant blue. I looked down at my hands. I had drawn fire without realizing, both hands engulfed in the blue stuff.
Fuck with me? Fine. But you do not fuck with my mom.
“Sebastian,” Mom said beside me, warning in her voice.
Able’s flashing eyes dared me to strike. And while my anger didn’t seem to care, I knew I couldn’t win a fight against him, let alone his two friends and the nasty creature he had somehow leashed to do his bidding.
That was dark shit, man. Beyond me. Beyond Mom. Beyond anyone I had ever known in my life.
With great effort, I extinguished my fire and let my hands relax at my sides.
Able nodded. “Good choice.”
“How come you haven’t killed me like your panther friend?” I asked.
“There are those who find you a threat. I know better.”
Them were fighting words. Too bad I had already decided fighting him would only end in my death.
“We’ve come for the elder,” he said and pointed at Toft as if any of us needed to know who he meant.
Odi stepped forward. “No way, dude.”
Toft gently touched Odi’s wrist. The tenderness in the gesture gave me pause. “It’s all right, son.” And hearing Toft call Odi son not only looked weird because he looked so much younger, but it sounded strange because it suggested the same tenderness as his touch.
“No,” Odi said. “It isn’t.”
“You proved yourself an ally last night,” Able said. “Don’t change that now.”
“What do you want with him?” The edges of Odi’s face wavered. For an instant I saw a glimpse of his vampire self.
“That isn’t your concern.”
Odi’s eyes flashed red. I could tell he was ready to go full vamp. Able or one of the others could interpret that as aggression, and they would have no reason not to kill him, and no trouble doing it. “He is my friend. I won’t let you just take him.”
And then I sensed it. The building energy. The raw power. The smell of sulfur. Never mind him going full vamp. If he unleashed his magic like he had at the nest, he could get us all killed.
“Odi,” I warned. “Don’t.”
But he didn’t act like he heard me. He began to tremble. He peeled back his lips, and there were his fangs. Oh, gods, this was seriously bad.
Able narrowed his eyes, studying Odi like an amusing curio on a shelf. He had to have felt the magic growing around Odi. He apparently didn’t find it worrisome.
I didn’t care how powerful these Ministry goons were. A raw infernal blast might not kill them outright, but they wouldn’t recover as easily as they had from the vampires’ abuses.
I rushed over and grabbed Odi’s arm. “No. Stop.”
Odi wrenched out of my grip so hard he left my fingers numb. Dark veins swelled under his skin, and the skin itself wrinkled. He was an angry vamp and an out of control sorcerer all in one. And I didn’t have a flippin’ clue how to defuse him.
“Stand down, boy,” Able said.
I realized there was no way to stop what was coming, so I grabbed Mom’s arm and bolted for the staircase. I wondered if the kid realized he might kill the very person he wanted to protect. Decided he didn’t. Rage had taken over. And rage didn’t know a thing about reason.
Mom and I made it halfway up the stairs before Odi unleashed. A wave of heat struck my back, lifted me off my feet, and flung me almost to the top of the stairs. I heard Mom cry out, but I was too busy with my rag doll impersonation to see what happened to her.
I landed, twisted at the waist, on my side. The hard edge of a step cracked my ribs. I felt more than heard the crunch. The pain quickly followed.
Flames whooshed overhead in a swirling orange cloud. The heat pressed down like a physical force. My lips went instantly dry and chapped.
All I could do was press myself as low as possible and hope the fire didn’t completely fill the stairwell. I untwisted my body, crushed my cheek against a step, and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for relief or death.
Then I heard the creak and crack above me.
I chanced a glance. The stairwell’s ceiling had broken apart. Sheets of plaster and wood rained down.
My instinct to live thankfully worked faster than my frightened mind. I propped myself up on my hands and bear crawled up the last few stairs right before the entire ceiling collapsed.
I heard Mom scream, then abruptly fall silent.
I rolled onto my side and looked down the length of my legs toward the stairwell. It had collapsed like an unsteady mineshaft. Chunks of plaster, split joists, and snapped wall studs filled the space so that I couldn’t see into the room below.
I scanned the wreckage, searching for any sign of Mom.
There.
I saw her arm sticking out between a pair of tented plaster pieces. Her fingers clutched another piece of plaster as if trying to hold on to keep from sinking deeper into the destruction. But that hand lay still.
A cloud of plaster dust choked me when I gasped at the sight of my mom’s limp arm. The rest of her was under there. I had to get to her. Had to stop fucking coughing before I passed out from lack of oxygen.
I pressed my hand over my mouth and sucked careful breaths through my nose. I kept coughing against my palm, but not as badly. I started to stand and a lance of pain through my side dropped me to my knees. Broken ribs. I flowed a little magic into the area to dull the pain and got to my feet.
But I stood helpless at the edge of the cave-in. I couldn’t wade in there without worrying about falling through and getting stuck. All I could do was stare at my mother’s unmoving arm and wonder if I had lost her again, only for good this time.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I felt my emotions getting the best of me. The helplessness. The anger. The fear. The gut hollowing sadness. In that moment, I had convinced myself I would never see my mother alive again.
I kept staring at her arm. It looked disembodied, as if it lay there unattached. The idea brought bile up the back of my throat. But if I studied closely, I could see a part of her shoulder obscured by plaster powder, and her arm connected to it. I did my best to rein in my imagination. I didn’t need to speculate. I needed to know.
But how?
If I couldn’t wade into the debris myself, I had to find some way to get Mom out of it and to me.
I lowered the hand I’d covered my mouth with and brought it even with my other hand. They shook. They both had dust coating them. Some of my knuckles had been scraped raw. My emotional spin cycle wouldn’t stop. I knew if I tried to use magic now, I would only have a few degrees more control than Odi had when he blew this fucking place apart and had…
I pressed my lips tightly together and honed my gaze in on Mom’s arm. The sleeve of her sweater was torn up to her elbow. A couple of her fingernails were missing.
I inhaled deeply through my nose. The plaster dust tickled the back of my throat, but I forced myself not to cough. I would choke before I coughed again. I didn’t fucking have time to cough.
Get a grip, Sebastian. You’re no good to her if you freak out now.
I took another deep breath.
Another.
The urge to swallow fought against the lack of moisture in my mouth. I tried to work up some spit, but couldn’t.
I closed my eyes. I pictured my heart in my chest. I imagined it slowing down. A few seconds of this brought my heart rate in line with my imagined rhythm. I moved my focus to my stomach, worked to calm the churning. Then to my neck muscles, focusing on releasing the tension.
The last part I tried to control felt physical, but existed entirely in my psyche. The
clusterfuck of emotions had eased their rampant chattering as I had relaxed my body. Now I could pick them apart and address each one in turn.
These were all tricks my father had taught me, tricks I should have taught Odi before he went and…
Magic did not depend on emotion, but it could feed on it. In most cases, this was a bad thing. Certain circumstances could take advantage of that connection, though. Such as when I focused my anger to make my intense, blue fire. I had worked out that trick right before Goulet nearly fed me his blood and finished my turning.
I had learned to control that flavor of anger well enough to keep it from blowing up in my face.
But I didn’t want to dance with my other emotions when I needed my magic now. I needed precision, finesse, and the lightest touch I could manage. In other words, I needed to cast a spell in the same way I would work the low key stuff like that vision spell, but needed I big spell effects.
I was about to get all Yoda on this mess.
Once I finally felt as centered as I could get, I reached out my hands and called on the air to obey my command. A slight wind rippled by me, no more than the sigh from an air duct or small fan. Not enough to help me. But this was only the start. I threaded more and more of my magic into the air, slowly feeding the wind. I wasn’t looking to create a large gust like I usually did. I wasn’t fighting.
Wind began to whirl around me like a vortex. It was warm. A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek like a tear. I turned my hands, fingers splayed, palms up, as if waiting to receive a gift. The wind picked up more and more circular speed until it reached a torrent equal to a hurricane. I was the eye of the storm, held total control. As strong as it was, the small cyclone did little more than blow the plaster dust off of me.
I had managed to harness the wind’s power while also controlling its effects.
I never would have thought I could do such a thing. Desperation had pushed me to the next tier of my abilities. If I’d been a character in a video game, I would have heard the ding of leveling up.
Confident of my new control, I directed the air in the most precise manner. Bit by bit, I cleared the debris, the wind an extension of my outstretched hands. I mimicked picking up each shard and piece, and the air did the rest. I pulled the junk out of the stairwell, over my shoulder, and into a pile behind me.
My harnessed wind also cleared the air of the chalky dust, replacing it with the fresh smell of a mountain breeze.
I couldn’t help smiling as I did my work, amazed at my own power.
I dug around Mom, not stopping until I had gently removed enough pieces to leave her lying in a fetal position in a ditch. I hated the way it looked like a dug grave. It gave my fears too much to work with.
Finally, I scooped up Mom in a cushion of air and floated her to me. I stepped aside to give me a place to lay her down. Once she rested on the dusty floor, I released the air I’d been controlling. It whistled by me, pushed me aside on its rush to escape the confines of the stairwell, made a mini avalanche in the pile of debris I had stacked, then dissipated wi
th a final whip crack.
I sagged to my knees beside Mom, my mouth bitter and pasty. Cold sweat soaked my shirt and even dampened the inside of my thighs, making me feel like I’d wet myself.
So much plaster powdered Mom’s face, she looked like she had lost all color, like a vampire victim drained of every drop of blood. Her clothes were torn. Blood matted her hair from a gash on her scalp. Otherwise, she didn’t look too bad. Or I was in denial.
Then I saw her move. She was breathing.
I shuddered as relief exploded inside of me. My eyes watered. I blinked my vision clear and rested a hand on Mom’s arm. “Mom?”
She took a sudden deep breath, then her eyes fluttered open. She looked up at me. “Oh, thank the gods, you’re all right.”
I laughed. “Me? You’re the one who got buried.”
“I’m a strong old broad, Sebastian. You should know that by now.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “You are that.”
She took my hand. “Help me up.”
I pulled her up to a sitting position. She surveyed the damage in the stairwell, shook her head. “Your apprentice…” She stopped, turned to look at me, then cupped my face with a hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Turns out I’m not a very good teacher.”
“It was too late for him. That isn’t your fault. That old son of a bitch should have never asked you to mentor him. The whole arrangement was doomed from the start.”
I nodded. Couldn’t argue. But I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to think I could have done Odi some good, kept him from fading too far into the natural darkness of the undead.
In other words, I was an idiot.
Mom got to her feet, swooned, but recovered quickly. She gingerly touched her scalp and her fingers came away with blood on the tips. The blood poured thick through her gray hair. She looked like the victim in a horror film. But you always bled a lot from the scalp. The wound probably looked worse than it really was.
“You okay?” I asked anyway.
“Fine.” She gestured toward the ditch in the debris. “You did that yourself?”