by Domino Finn
Emily's light returned. This time Petrovic ignored her. He pointed the assault rifle at me and pulled the trigger. I fell down into the floor, becoming a dark mass, waiting as lead rounds chipped away the concrete beneath me.
When the magazine clicked empty, Evan jumped. He grabbed his rifle with both hands and rammed it into Petrovic's face again. The wolf released it and slapped my friend down. Evan crumpled on the ground beneath him.
Luckily, he'd given me enough time to reload my shotty. The barrel snapped closed. Petrovic turned. A cone of fire lit up the shipyard again. It glanced off the wolf as he rolled away, but his body twisted and tumbled. He'd avoided taking the full brunt of the blast, but half his head was a smoking pulp all the same. Vukasin Petrovic fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.
Evan retreated with his weapon, reloading and planting himself between the wolves and his wife. I wasn't sure Emily needed the protection, but I couldn't fault his instincts. Together they drew closer to the warehouse.
The square dock platform was a chaotic jumble of Vucari and SWAT officers. Say what you want about the strength of spellcraft, but the assault weapons held the wolves at bay. Still, the Sons of Van were so fast it made shooting them difficult. Worse, the two that had taken the initial spill into the river crawled out, bleeding but ready to fight again.
"Form a perimeter!" directed Evan, pulling his men away from the water's edge. If they could gather side by side, forming a line, it would increase their damage potential and limit the chances of crossfire, leaving the Vucari with precious little space to run.
They dragged two wounded officers by their shoulders. Milena came up behind them and emptied her pistol. Then she tossed it to the floor and scooped up one of the downed officer's rifles. She braced the weapon against her shoulder and fired short bursts into a charging Vucari.
His evasive maneuver sent him into a zigzag pattern. He gained ground. I pulled out an egg of white powder and threw it in his path, sending him into a coughing fit and slowing him down enough for Milena to empty the magazine into him. The wolf howled and toppled. These dogs were tough, but it looked like they could be put down after all.
Someone tackled me from the side and my neck nearly snapped. I was scooped into the air and tossed down hard. Darko. I phased into the darkness, sinking deeper than the surface, and came up behind the puzzled creature.
Shadow flared up my arm and enveloped me. Just as Darko spun around, my fist found his stomach. He yelped and launched halfway across the River, disappearing in a splash.
Score a point for shadow magic. I grimaced and stumbled to a knee. But damn had that tackle hurt.
Connor Hatch calmly threaded through the swarm of gunfire and rushing wolves. The police were set in formation now, their perimeter established. The unorganized Vucari were having trouble with the onslaught. Connor witnessed the tide turning and approached the center of the command structure. He lifted his arm and a gout of flames twenty feet long rocketed toward the DROP team.
Flamethrowers don't just hurt. They're demoralizing as hell. The police line broke in half instantly. The men scattered. They rolled and patted down their clothes and checked each other in disbelief that they hadn't been hit. They thought they were lucky. I knew better.
"He can't hurt you!" I screamed. "Connor's fire can't hurt you!"
For some inescapable reason, the police officers believed their eyes over me. They fired at the newest threat, automatic rounds finding only air as Connor casually vanished.
"Evan!" I called. "Get your men back in formation. Don't waste your ammo on Connor!"
My friend nodded. He tried reforming the line but, in the chaos of combat, it was only half effective. In the meantime, the Vucari had the breather they needed. They regrouped. They pulled in their wounded. They howled and drew strength from their patron, Van.
The jinn continued spewing erratic bursts of flame to panic the crowd. To maintain the charade, he orchestrated each attack to barely miss its target.
"He can't hurt you!" I yelled, this time running into the path of Connor's fire. The jet of orange and red gushed over me, barely warmer than the Miami night. When the flames extinguished, the DROP team marveled at the illusory attack. They shook away their fear and began hearing their lieutenant's orders again. They moved to reestablish the line.
But it was too late. The Sons of Van charged the center of the formation, where the ranks were thinnest. Unlike the jinn, the wolves were an actual, tangible threat. The only way for the police to survive the encounter was to avoid getting close. The wedge assault split the DROP team in half. Now, with the Vucari sandwiched between, the police lost their firing angles.
This was bad, and quickly devolving to worse. I could almost hear the wrestling announcer on the echoing PA system: "King of the ring! Rage in the cage! Every man for himself!" I cursed. The cops wouldn't last long in a supernatural melee.
Luckily, they had Emily on their side. She dithered her attention from one wolf to the next. Blinding them before their attacks struck. Refracting the warehouse light and bending the positions of their targets. For a single woman it was madness to keep track of. Even then, she was falling a step behind.
Connor scowled. "I may not be able to harm them, Cisco, but they're not all untouchable."
He sent a spear of flame to Emily. My arm flashed up with his. I manifested a small shadow wall to shield her.
Except Connor's spear had purposely missed the white witch. He'd aimed for her but at an angle. The fire javelin roared wide past my wall and missed everybody.
"Ugh!" cried Emily. Her true position shimmered in. Connor's fire had glanced through her side. She buckled to the floor.
"No!" I swiped uselessly at Connor. He blinked to the other side of me.
Emily clutched her blackened side and rolled in pain.
"Son of a bitch!" hollered Evan, sprinting to his wife's side.
"It is fitting," said the jinn softly. "You being here for this. You can hold her while she dies."
The flamethrower roared from his hand again, bearing down on the couple. This time Emily had no strength to refract her position. This time Connor had a clear, unmolested shot at her. But this time, so did I. My shadow wall solidified into position just in time.
The fire bombarded the shadow. My spellcraft ate it like a black hole. But the darkness wasn't all powerful. The light from the flames licked at it. Withered it. The black shied away from the light.
I bit down and forced more darkness into the construct, replacing the shadow as it was dissolved. Connor snarled and doubled down, both hands sending his blaze forward.
I'd never tried this before, but I was desperate. My spellcraft isn't like Emily's. Light is a presence. It's sourced by something. It can be spawned in a void.
Shadow doesn't work like that. Shadow can't be created at will. It just is. Shadow is an absence, existing only where light isn't. I can play with it, thicken it, but I can't very well go against the laws of the universe.
Except, somehow, my defense was holding. Even if only for pitiful moments. The fire devoured my wall but the shadow returned behind it, slowly giving way to the inevitable. The distance between searing oblivion and Emily Cross dwindled.
The white witch produced an aerosol can. She sprayed white paint on the floor around her. Meanwhile, I begged Opiyel for more. To open the faucet even if it burned me alive. To give Emily the time she needed.
The Intrinsics flowed through me with a raging current. Too much, too fast. I could only give Emily a few more seconds. By then, her circle of protection was complete. A coil of white paint surrounded Evan and Emily, my shadow disintegrated, and Connor's fire spread over them. The flames curved around the invisible orb. It was a beautiful sight. The most metal snow globe ever.
But the effort took its toll on me. My legs gave way. My arms barely kept my face off the cement. I was suddenly dizzy and weak. My head spun.
Spellcraft isn't meant to be pushed. That's why so many fairy tales and
legends lecture on the temptation of magic and the fear of dooming your soul. My take? It isn't anything as moralistic as all that. The simple truth is there's only so much punishment the human body can handle.
Even though Evan and Emily were safe, the DROP team was a different story. Half of them had retreated to the warehouse. The other half were convincing Evan to do the same. Emily tried to shove him away for his sake, but he wouldn't leave her. He ordered his men to fall back. They took up what fortified positions they could.
As a necromancer, any circles I'd used were for blocking spirits. Magical attacks, not so much. I couldn't tell what kind of protection Emily was running, but I watched the Vucari pound on her dome like frustrated mimes. Somehow, she managed to block evocative magic and sheer force.
"You've been studying in secret," noted Connor in mild annoyance.
Emily was in too much pain to snap back. She was focused on the circle, probably scared out of her mind. For all I knew, this was her first real firefight, her first real experience with her life on the line. She had told me she wasn't built for this kind of thing, that she was only here for her daughter.
Well, damn. Given the odds, I thought she was doing just fine.
I groaned and steadied on my hands and knees. The Spaniard's voice rasped in my head. Shouting about missed opportunities. Wary of falling into the jinn's hands. I could've set him loose, but the image of my daughter drowned out his pleas. This was for Fran, I reminded myself. I couldn't reveal the Horn and make my move until I could ensure her safety.
I forced my limbs into a shell-shocked crawl. Through the swimming haze in my head, I heard the gunfire slow and the calls of the DROP team to conserve ammo. I hadn't considered that the Sons of Van could take more bullets than the officers had. Too bad I hadn't been able to outfit them with better weaponry. A supernatural edge. If we ever lived through the night, I told myself I would fix that.
"Cisco Suarez," laughed Connor. He strolled alongside my feeble attempt to crawl. "It's time for a deal. You've lost here."
I grunted. "What battle are you looking at?"
Finally, I pulled myself to my target. I leaned on the twitching body of Vukasin Petrovic.
Connor raised an eyebrow. "Whatever are you doing?"
I coughed. "That thing at the docks you did. With the zombie. I realized how to hurt you." I put the silver whistle to my mouth and blew.
A tremor went through Petrovic's body. A grunt escaped his snout. The wolf picked his head off the floor and fixed on me. Half his face looked like a skinned tomato that was on the grill too long, courtesy of my fireshot.
I smirked and turned to Connor. "The dead."
The corpse's hairy hand clamped around my throat.
Wait. That wasn't supposed to happen.
"Eep," I cried, struggling to slink into the shadow. Too late. We were stuck on the ground, immobile. I couldn't slip out.
My mind raced. This wasn't normal. My thralls had never attacked me before. That could only mean...
Vukasin Petrovic wasn't dead.
Chapter 44
"You're supposed to be dead," I snarled.
The Vucari's wolf jaw opened in a smile. "Little man, death is afraid of Vucari."
"Watch who you call little," I warned.
His grip on my neck tightened. He stood, hefting me high. My alligator boots swung wildly, searching for ground. I pulled my sawed off, loaded a shell of regular birdshot, and fired into his belly. He didn't let go, but he wavered enough to set me down.
It was still difficult to breathe with him crushing my neck.
I dropped the shotgun and pulled at his hand, giving me sweet relief. I knew I didn't have the juice to break out, though.
Vukasin Petrovic smiled and said, "I told you I'd come for you."
I tugged but it was no good. I pulled my right hand to my side and drew shadow over it. Immediately, I felt woozy.
"This isn't about old man," said Petrovic. "This isn't about little girl. Though she was fun to steal."
I growled. This guy was right here, in my face, taunting me with my daughter's kidnapping. I didn't care how much more my body could take. I used the anger to call the shadow to me. I turned off all the warning alarms in my brain. Ignored all the muscle spasms that tried to shut me down. My blood seared with rage and I fed it with everything I had. And when Opiyel warned me down, I cursed him too.
A mass of darkness dripped from my palm. I folded it into itself. Again. And again.
"I know what you think," said Petrovic, gloating. "You kick yourself for not killing me back at Port. For not finishing me here on ground." He squeezed his hand. "But I have bad news for you, Cisco. Even if you did kill me, I only come back for you again."
Petrovic boomed with laughter. His massive frame heaved with amusement. I hardened my shadow as he laughed. I fed my rage and sharpened it into a prison shiv.
"You forget, Petrovic," I rasped. "You're not the only one who's been dead before."
I shanked him right between his man-boobs. He gasped and released me. Tree-trunk legs shook the floor as he stumbled backward. But he righted himself before the fall. I couldn't say the same.
The shadow fled me. I dropped to my knees. I squinted, trying to see straight. I was exhausted and the fucker was still laughing.
Right up until his head exploded.
I turned my head weakly. Milena had also fallen to the floor. She regained her feet, lugging the BFG over her shoulder. The thing was so big it had knocked her over when fired.
"I don't give a shit about killing that guy," she said triumphantly. She stood at a lean because of the heavy gun.
I massaged my throat. "I'm pretty sure you're supposed to brace that thing on top of something," I squeaked out.
She shrugged with her free shoulder.
Right about that time we noticed everything had gone silent around us. Connor was watching, of course, but the Vucari had stopped their assault as well. Each subhuman reverently scrutinized their fearless leader.
I turned back to him. Vukasin Petrovic was still on his feet, if that was possible. He was deader than a doornail, though. His head was missing. It wasn't on his body or the floor or anywhere, really. It had just exploded into giblets from the anti-vehicle round.
Kinda made me feel like a wimp. I had a perfectly working head and I still couldn't manage to stand up. Petrovic was just showing off.
The Sons of Van collectively howled when their leader didn't stir. It was a raucous lament. Maybe they realized they would die here as well.
Connor scrambled to mollify their ranks. I kept wondering why nobody was fighting. But we were spent. Emily wounded. The DROP team nearly out of bullets. My body betraying me. This battle had become more about attrition than strength. And here I was, unable to manifest a single shadow. Hell, I couldn't even get a solid foot beneath me.
But I wasn't done by a long shot. Never let it be said that Cisco Suarez is a one-trick pony.
I put the whistle to my mouth again. This time I tapped the High Baron and Opiyel both at once. I called on the Spaniard to assist me. I wormed my way into the dead subhuman's husk. Usually it wasn't reliable to play this fast and loose with zombie preparation, but I was between a submarine and a hard place.
I closed my eyes. Suddenly I was standing again. No longer writhing on the floor, I was now an oak tree of a man, all hair and fat and muscles. (No head, though.) I took a heavy step forward. I was more Jeep than Bentley, but I was undoubtedly mobile. The body was mine. I paced ahead, one target in mind.
Connor arched his eyebrow and turned to the headless corpse.
"Vukasin?" he asked.
I swung my log of an arm without hesitation. The blow slammed into the startled jinn's chest and knocked him on his ass.
Connor rolled over, his eyes wide with disbelief. An audible gasp escaped the crowd.
Back on the floor, I opened my eyes and smiled. "Connor Hatch," I called out. "If you don't fear the living, let's see how you do against t
he dead."
The jinn swung an arc of fire at the standing corpse. Flames danced over the body. The zombie caught fire, but he didn't melt or explode or turn to ash. The magic powering the husk didn't extinguish.
For once I laughed at the power of the Sons of Van, near immortal and able to absorb obscene amounts of damage. I laughed like a madman and dove back into the Vucari's body. Petrovic stomped ahead.
Connor was never one for a fight. As soon as I lumbered near, he tried to blink away. But something curious happened. His magic failed him. The dead did interfere with his magic. What was clearly an attempt to escape left the jinn standing idly.
I clasped strong arms around him, picked him up, and crushed him to the ground. My fist came down but he caught it. Connor pushed up at me. Impressive, but I was stronger than him. Petrovic was stronger than him. I shoved his hand down slowly. Then I lifted a foot and curb-stomped him in the stomach.
The jinn folded into a fetal position. Before I could get another blow in, he stabbed my knee with a sword of fire. I tumbled to my hands. Connor rolled away and tried to blink again. No dice. From a crouch, I lunged at him. He bounded away. Capitalizing on my diminished mobility, he fired a lance at my other knee.
Pain seared through my being. I caught myself on the ground again, enraged. He was getting away. Not with magic, but on foot. He sprinted toward his submarine.
I wanted to tell the Spaniard to strike, but I couldn't feel his presence from Petrovic's husk. I ignored the pain and pushed to my feet. Connor raced to the edge of the dock, dove forward, and blinked out.
I returned to my body, eyes jerking open. My head swiveled over the docks. Damn it. Connor Hatch was gone.
"Coward!" yelled one of the Vucari. "Stay and fight!"
A soaking wet Darko surveyed the dock in a panic. "Screw this," he grumbled. He pulled several of the Sons of Van away toward the street. The DROP team held back, happy to watch them scurry away.
"Stay and fight," repeated the first subhuman. The ugly one. "They are wounded." His allies hesitated.