Messiah of Burbank - An Urban Fantasy

by Paul Neuhaus

  “Try!”

  Finally, the brunette got a better grip on her father. Glen passed a hand in front of Cam’s face and it became for a moment translucent. Quinn could see it even from where she was standing. Flowing through the elder Blank’s blood was a luminous orange fluid. “He’s been injected with something,” Glen said. “It’s killing him.”

  Henaghan felt a tremor through her body. It was transferred energy. She looked down at Josie and Josie was sweating. Her eyes had rolled back into her head and she was hot to the touch.

  The fire inside Cameron Blank’s body was spreading. His whole person took on a glow. Growing and growing.

  David Olkin saw that Josie was also affected. He dashed over to Quinn and helped her get the teenager to the ground.

  Soon Cam was a man-shaped illuminant, and his glow outshone the sun coming in through the window. Henaghan had to turn her head. Glen and Molly were both swallowed by the light’s bloom.

  Then Molly came flying out of the glow, thrown by Glen. The brunette crashed into the countertop separating the kitchen from the living room. The impact knocked the wind out her and she went down.

  Then the elder Blank exploded.

  A blast of hot air carried Glen Sharp backward. His body was burning until he hit the couch and was able to roll to extinguish himself.

  Still feeling the effects of the explosion, Quinn looked down at Josie. Like Cam before her, shards of yellow heat shone through the girl’s skin. Her head lolled from side to side. A low moan began inside of her, growing in strength until it became a scream. Henaghan and Olkin struggled to hold Josie down.

  Quinn was powerless. For all her much-vaunted strength, she had no idea what to do to save her niece’s life. In a matter of seconds, Taft would explode and there was nothing she could do. Or almost nothing. “Crawl back,” she said to Olkin. “Get away from her.”

  Retreat wasn’t part of David’s agenda. “No. I—”

  But the redhead wasn’t having it. “Get back I said!”

  The agent reluctantly crawled away from Quinn and the dying girl.

  Henaghan pulled Josie to herself. Hugging her more tightly. Josie spasmed and thrashed in her grip. The pain and magic inside her made her an animal. Quinn braced for the explosion.

  The explosion never came.

  Taft’s struggles ended abruptly. The lights inside her body burned out and the girl’s eyes opened wide. A sharp inhalation of breath like a person spared from drowning.

  Henaghan loosened her embrace so she could look down at Josie. The teenager’s color was returning. Her breathing became deeper. “Glen! Get over here!”

  Sharp rose painfully from the couch. Even with everything else going on, Quinn could see the man was badly hurt. Nevertheless, he reached her position on the floor and knelt down next to his niece. He passed a hand over Josie’s face. The skin became translucent. There was no orange fluid coursing through the girl’s veins.

  “Take her,” Henaghan said and Sharp obliged. Brushing glass from herself, Quinn rose.

  From his place on the carpet, David Olkin said, “Quinn. Quinn, what’re you doing?!”

  But it was too late. Quinn was already gone.

  Quinn appeared in the air above San Francisco. It was rainy and cold. It took the girl a moment to get her bearings and home in on the Transamerica Pyramid, headquarters of the Resolute.

  She was expected. Hovering above the tower were several more Tīvara along with a creature the like of which Henaghan had never seen. Were it standing on the ground, the monster would’ve been more than ten feet tall. It had wings and a whip-like tail made of barbs and hooks and fire. It was roughly man-shaped with beady, glowing eyes. It saw Quinn first and immediately shot upward in her direction. The men in gray camouflage followed it at a distance, unable to match its speed.

  The redhead fell back into a hover and, since the creature barreling toward her was made, in part, of flame, she threw her arms back over her head and forward again. The air above her formed into a gust laden with ice and snow. It blew toward the onrushing attackers.

  The bat-thing dodged and spun, veering off toward Quinn’s right. The magical wind hit the Tīvara head-on, slamming into the ones in the front rank. Ice made the first two men heavier and they fell from the sky, presumably to die on the streets below. The rest of the assassins split in two directions, some going left and some going right.

  Henaghan dove between the splitting ranks, and flew, headfirst toward the pyramid below. Her speed increased, and a contrail formed behind her.

  The Tīvara overshot but doubled back, forming a unified group and heading after the rocketing Aja. The bat-thing shot first up then down, aligning its course with that of the others.

  The real entrance to Resolute headquarters was at ground level, through a false wall in the lobby. Quinn had no reason to enter the building any higher than that and, indeed, she might do damage to property and persons completely unrelated to the Channelers beneath. Henaghan made her descent almost completely vertical with the idea of arcing at the last moment into the lobby. She didn’t get a chance to complete the action.

  A tangle of elastic cables jerked her back. Spinning in the air, Quinn looked up at her pursuers. The Tīvara had shot grappling lines from Hexenjäger guns. The cables ended in metal grips and the Resolute men had managed to get four of them around her arms and legs. Henaghan shot first up then back down again, victim to the cables’ elasticity.

  But that wasn’t the redhead’s only problem. True to Hexenjäger form and function, the bands around her biceps and calves were made from a substance which dampened the Channeling of maya. (Not a substance really, but a technology. Uriah Yellen had once bragged about having powerful patrons in Silicon Valley.) As she felt her access to magic diminish, Quinn wondered what to do. She knew she wasn’t going to slam into the pavement (the lines the Tīvara had her on weren’t that long), but she would soon be as helpless as any of the mundanes on the streets far below.

  She only had a moment to think about it, however, when she felt the full force of the bat-thing slam into her. The creature was pure, naked aggression and the impact had, Henaghan imagined, the same level of force as an onrushing automobile.

  The midair collision had one important positive side effect. The bat-thing hadn’t taken into account the Tīvara who’d snared Quinn. The hapless killers were, at first, pulled along by the momentum of the crash. Quickly, however, they lost their grip on their weapons and the cables went slack. One of the assassins fell from the sky. The others managed to right themselves long before impacting the ground below.

  Technically, Quinn was free of her bonds, but that didn’t matter since she still had the dampeners attached to her skin. Were the bat-thing to let go of her right then, she would’ve been unable to fly and would’ve died like the handful of Tīvara who’d already lost their lives that day. Fortunately, the bat-thing wasn’t especially intelligent. Instead of dropping her, the monster clawed at her face and upper torso. Henaghan was scratched and burned numerous times as she struggled to both fend off the onslaught and pull at the clamps on her arms and legs.

  Quinn had run afoul of this same Hexenjäger tech once before—in the form of handcuffs. This time her hands were free, and she required no outside assistance. For her, it was just a matter of getting the clamps off before the flying creature slashed and pummeled her to death or she and the monster slammed into the pavement on Montgomery street. The girl, on the border of a full-on panic, pulled at her bonds, eager to be free so she could turn her magic on the creature weighing her down. As she pulled one of the clamps loose (the one around her right upper arm), she noticed the bat-thing was becoming entangled by the flapping cables. That gave her an idea.

  She lacerated her own hands as she clamped the free clamp around the bat-thing’s right wrist. The creature looked at Henaghan, shocked. Quinn knew this monster—whatever it was—was a denizen of the Astral Plane. As such it’d be made up of mostly maya. Not only was it a Ch
anneler itself, it consisted of the very thing it Channeled. The clamps would be as effective against the monster as they were against Quinn. Probably more so.

  When she got the second clamp around the bat-thing’s opposite wrist, the creature panicked as well. It rose up at the waist and tore at its bonds. Their flight downward became less controlled, more precipitous. Quinn used the monster’s less overbearing proximity to rise up herself. She too bent at the waist and very quickly removed the clamps from her calves. She felt the flow of maya return and she zipped upward between the bat-thing’s legs so she was above it rather than beneath. She looked over the creature’s shoulder and saw the ground rising up to meet them at an alarming rate. She couldn’t allow the creature to impact with the street. She couldn’t let the mundanes become involved in something they’d never asked for and surely wouldn’t want. Before she did what she did next, she spared a glance over her shoulder. The Tīvara were still coming. With obvious determination and a complete lack for self-regard.

  Quinn laid hands on the bat-thing’s shoulders and the two of them were swallowed by a portal.

  Quinn and the bat-thing reappeared over the ocean near the Bay Bridge. Quinn let go and the hobbled creature fell away from her into the water. Without access to maya, it dropped into the depths. She saw its face as it sank. Its expression was complex. A mixture of surprise and melancholy.

  The redhead arced upward so she hovered over the ocean. As she gathered her strength to leave, she saw the Tīvara headed toward her from over the city. It didn’t matter. She’d be long gone by the time they arrived.

  Except the flow of maya hiccupped inside of her. Not only did this send a wave of nausea through her body, it also caused her to drop fifteen feet closer to the Pacific. She gasped as she fought to regain control of herself. It seemed that her Overchanneling had put her in an awkward position. She could fly, or she could teleport back to Los Angeles. She just couldn’t do both. She thought about darting away and finding somewhere to land but she knew the Resolute killers would give pursuit. Instead, she did the only other thing she could think of. She dropped out of the sky until she was treading water in the sea. With the strain of multitasking behind her, she took a deep breath and regathered her energies. As she faded out, she saw the Tīvara dive into the ocean, clearly to go after their demonic companion.

  Quinn returned to Burbank amidst a chorus of frantic voices. The people she’d left behind were in an agitated state. Olkin was on the couch with Molly. Molly was crying violently. Josie was sitting in a chair, holding her head in her hands. Glen was in the same place Henaghan had left him, in the floor between the foyer and the dining room.

  Quinn was lacerated and wet from the chest down. When Blank saw her, she sprang up from the couch and fell into Henaghan’s arms. The redhead held onto her girlfriend tight and tried to assess the situation. She looked around at all of the faces and said, “Is everyone alright?”

  David Olkin nodded. Glen said nothing. Josie looked over her shoulder at her two aunts. “No, not everyone is alright. Pop pop isn’t alright.”

  The statement caused Molly to cry even harder. Quinn steered Blank around to the other chair facing the couch. She sat down and pulled her girlfriend down with her. Molly buried her face in Henaghan’s shoulder. “I know. I know he’s not alright,” was all Quinn could say.

  Josie burst out crying herself. Her voice went up an octave and she nearly shouted, “He’s not alright and it’s my fault!”

  Everyone gasped. Finally, Henaghan said, “Sweetie, no. That’s not true. That’s not true at all. Why would you even say that?”

  Taft grew more frantic. “Because I saved myself instead of saving him. I could’ve saved him instead of me.”

  Molly rose up. “Stop saying that!” she said. “Don’t ever say that. I couldn’t bear losing either one of you, but you especially. You’re a young woman. You have years ahead of you. My dad would’ve wanted you to do exactly what you did. If you’d saved him and died yourself, he would’ve been heartbroken.”

  Quinn nodded. “Molly’s right. Of course she’s right. Pop pop loved you.”

  Blank turned on Henaghan, hitting her in the chest with balled-up fists. “Why did you leave?! Where did you go?! We needed you here.”

  Quinn caught the brunette’s wrists and held them with surprising strength. “I know, I know, I know,” she said. “I was stupid. I was angry. I wanted to make somebody pay for this.”

  Molly grew less agitated. “Where did you go? Who were you gonna make pay?”

  “I… went to the Resolute. In San Francisco. They were waiting for me. They figured I’d come.”

  David Olkin sighed. “Which just confirms they were behind this. They’ve gone crazy.”

  Blank turned back to Henaghan. “Don’t you ever try and do revenge again; do you hear me? Especially not for me or mine. Revenge gets people killed. Opens them up for more heartache and trouble.”

  Quinn let go of her girlfriend’s wrist. “I know. Believe me, I know. I promise I won’t do it again.”

  A forgotten voice off to the side interrupted them. “Hey,” Glen said. “I think I need a little help over here.” They all looked toward Sharp and when they did he fell over and banged his head on the hardwood floor.

  Quinn and Olkin grabbed Glen under his shoulder and Molly carried his feet. As they transferred him to the couch, Josie followed behind. Once Sharp was lying down, Quinn backed away. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  David grabbed her shoulder. “Uh uh,” he said. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’ll go.” Without waiting for a reply, the agent disappeared.

  Blank crouched on the floor next to Glen’s head and looked up at her niece. “Josie would you—”

  “I’m on it,” the girl said before Molly could finish the thought.

  While Taft was gone, the brunette turned to Henaghan. “Quinn,” she said, her tears returning. “What’m I gonna do?”

  Quinn sat down next to her girlfriend and pulled her in close. “You’re not going to do anything. You’re going to grieve. We’ll grieve together. I loved him too.”

  Josie returned with a glass of water and a rag saturated with cold water. Molly laid the compress on Glen’s forehead and a hand on the man’s right cheek. “His skin is cold. His breathing is shallow.”

  Right then, David Olkin reappeared. With him was Terry Truitt who, true to the cliché of a doctor making a house call, had a black physician’s bag. He shooed Quinn and Molly out of his way. “Give me some room. I need to take a look at him.” Truitt sat down on the floor next to the empty coffee table frame. He pulled a stethoscope out of his bag and put it around his neck. He then reached over and undid the buttons on Glen’s shirt. With the shirt open, he stopped short. “God. What happened to this man?”

  The three adults were all standing and could peer down onto Sharp’s body. Josie paced back and forth in the kitchen. Glen’s entire right side was black and swollen. Between mounds of angry flesh, little rivers of orange light ran. It appeared as though whatever had happened to Cameron Blank was now happening to Glen in slow motion.

  Quinn, trying not to look at Sharp’s ruined flesh, took one step forward. “My father-in-law was poisoned by the Tīvara. There was some kind of fluid in his bloodstream. He… exploded. Glen was in the way.”

  Dr. Truitt looked at Quinn. “The Tīvara? Did you say the Tīvara? If that’s who did this, there’s no telling what they used on him.” The physician put on rubber gloves and probed at the affected area. “My God. It’s spreading. Rapidly. Very rapidly.”

  “What can you do for him?” Molly said.

  The doctor looked flummoxed. “Keep him comfortable.”

  They all turned when they heard a voice from the kitchen. “Keep him comfortable?” Josie said. “That’s it?” The teenager walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. She went around the three standing adults to loom over Truitt. “Get out of my way.”

  Dr. Terry looked at Qu
inn and Quinn gave him a look that said, Get out of her way, I guess.

  Truitt nodded and stood. Josie took his place on the floor next to the couch. She placed her hand on her uncle’s torso, away from the burned side of his body. “I had this in me before,” she said. “In my blood. I went inside myself and changed it. I changed it into blood.” With that, she shut her eyes and fell into a deep state of concentration. At first, whatever she was doing seemed to work. The blackened, burning mass on Glen’s right side retreated and hardened, like lava when it cools. But then, Sharp’s breathing became more labored. His head rolled from side to side and his spine straightened. Unsure, Taft looked up at Quinn. Quinn reached out to her across the space, connecting with the girl, loaning her power. Since Josie had her hand on Glen, Henaghan could also feel Glen’s internal rhythms. Though she was no doctor herself, she could sense Sharp’s systems failing. His lungs, his kidneys, his liver, his heart. The damage to his body was not skin deep. The waves of orange fire had infiltrated him and were burning away his vital processes.

  Glen was going to die.

  It happened sooner than the redhead anticipated. Sharp’s eyes popped open, he gasped and looked around, disoriented. Finally, his gaze locked onto Josie. He smiled and raised a hand to touch his niece’s cheek. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “You’ll be fine.” Then his eyes lost their focus and his hand dropped. Once the man was dead, the fires inside him were given their head. They spread and interconnected, making Sharp glow orange from the inside. Just as Josie raised her hand, her uncle’s body collapsed in upon itself and turned to black ash. Nothing on the couch was now recognizably Glen Sharp.

  Josie Taft looked down in astonishment. Two of her family members gone in less than an hour’s time. Her eyes scanned the black ash in disbelief. Then she said “no” and continued to say “no” over and over again until Molly snapped out of her own shock and dashed over to the girl. She knelt and pulled Josie to herself, holding both the girl’s torso and her head against herself. Josie cried the cry of a wounded animal then she made no sound at all. Blank pulled Taft to her feet and steered her toward her bedroom. On her way out, Molly looked at Quinn and the look said, Come as fast as possible.