All but Human

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Derek staggered out onto the stoop. “Ladon!” he yelled.

  “Derek!” a woman behind him called.

  Daisy Reynolds Pavlovich, a woman as worthy of the title Tsarina as his mother or his sisters, pulled a double-barreled shotgun off the wall of the mudroom at the same time as one of her massive attack dogs lunged through the door.

  “Get down!” Daisy yelled.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Moments earlier…

  Daisy swallowed air and pumped her legs and dodged three undergraduates blocking the sidewalk. She hopped a snow bank and landed in the road, her bag smacking against her side and throwing her balance, but she ran. Rysa yelled “Gavin needs you!” so she ran.

  She hit Cleveland Avenue just as the light turned red. She skidded to a stop at the corner, looking both ways, to judge the traffic. The cold air held the car smog low to the ground making it hard to breathe too deeply, but she was only three blocks away now. She could run the final stretch in no time, if the traffic let up.

  A break opened between the cars. Daisy sprinted between the honking vehicles.

  Her coat constricted and she was beginning to feel hot under its insulation, but she couldn’t stop. Gavin needed her.

  She skidded onto her street.

  Gavin rounded the corner ahead of her. He wasn’t wearing gloves or a hat and his coat was unzipped, and he held his phone to his ear. He shivered too, and was paying more attention to the surface of the sidewalk than to who was ahead of him.

  But he looked okay. No wounds. No broken bones. Whatever was happening at the house hadn’t hurt her wonderful, courageous normal boyfriend.

  “Gavin!” The bad wouldn’t touch him. Not now. Not in the future. It wouldn’t hunt him down because she’d left him vulnerable to attack. She had to believe that.

  He looked up, his mouth rounding, and reached for her with his free hand.

  “I texted you!” He pulled the cell phone away from his ear. “Then I called my Praesagio C.H.A.R.L.E.S. Fates three times but I keep getting ‘We are away from our desks. Please leave a message’ crap! They’re Fates! Aren’t they—”

  Daisy curled her arms around his head and laid her most intense, most deeply-felt kiss on his lips. He was okay. Rysa yelled for her to run because he needed her but he was okay.

  “Hey,” he whispered. “Do you know what’s going on?” But he stroked her face and touched her arms. “You’re okay?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close.

  “Something’s wrong with Ladon.” Gavin didn’t let go. “Mr. Nicholson forced me out of the house.” But he did wave over his shoulder. “I don’t know where the boys are.”

  The dogs were more than pets. They were more than security. Radar and Ragnar—and their mother, Dawnstar—were family. But unlike her dad or Ivan or Ladon, they didn’t understand why bad things happened. So no matter how fierce they were, they needed her as much as she needed them.

  They counted on her and she’d better live up to her promises.

  Daisy took Gavin’s hand. “I need to go. You can’t—”

  He yanked her toward her house.

  On the walk, in front of the house, Daisy smelled dust—old dust, new dust, dog dust. Splintered wood and ripped carpet dust. Destruction dust.

  She touched her finger to her lips and signaled Gavin to wait at the base of the steps leading up to the porch. The door sat off its jam, open slightly, and the stink of devastation all but rolled from her house.

  She sniffed again, searching for signs of her dogs. And there, on the edge of dust, she smelled canine fear.

  One of her dogs was injured.

  “Stay out here.” Daisy looked up at the porch ceiling. “I can’t… if you get…”

  Confusion danced across his face, followed closely by concern, and he jogged up the steps. Quickly, he kissed her cheek. “Communications director,” he whispered as he gestured with his phone. “They might answer. We need help.”

  It didn’t matter. “It’s too dangerous.”

  A loud bang rocked the house, followed by two echoes of her backdoor cracking against the outside wall—one reverberating through the hallway and one rolling between her house and the neighbor’s.

  Ladon’s yell boomed around the house as well.

  Gavin’s face blanched. Not paying attention to possible interior threats, or the smells, or the yelling, he flung the front door open and pushed her through, then quickly and quietly closed it behind them.

  More dust filled the air inside her entryway. Dust billowed through the air and dust choked her throat.

  “The front stairwell is gone,” Gavin breathed.

  The entire middle section of the stairs looked as if someone had taken a saw to the treads and risers on the banister side and cut them off the supporting wall. At least seven steps hung against the outside wall of the house, cracked and destroyed, leaving a gaping hole into the basement.

  “Radar.” Gavin pointed at the top of what remained of Daisy’s staircase.

  Her big dog whimpered, his head low, as he inched down the remaining stairs clinging to the second floor. Fear wafted off him, and the closest thing to canine panic her highly-trained dogs could feel.

  When he moved back, he limped.

  “He’s hurt.” Daisy inched toward the four treads standing at the base of the stairs. Radar couldn’t jump the gap even if he wanted to.

  “Where’s Ragnar?” Gavin followed her in.

  Radar whimpered again. The house shook. Something slammed against the outside wall.

  Daisy grabbed the one remaining standing bannister rail. “I need to help Ladon and Derek!”

  “Go. I’ll get the dogs.” Gavin gripped her hand. “Be careful.”

  Daisy looked up at her pacing, whimpering German shepherd. “You watch over him, okay?” She blew out a strong dose of ‘protect’ followed by the specific brew she’d used to signal to her dogs that she wanted them to attend to Gavin.

  Radar quietly woofed.

  Daisy touched Gavin’s cheek. “Don’t trust anyone. Once you lose sight of me, you won’t know if it’s me or a morpher, and…” She hadn’t said it yet. Hadn’t wanted to believe it possible. “It might be Vivicus. So you get the boys down and you take them to the clinic where you’ll be far enough away Praesagio can help guide you, okay?”

  He nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t going to listen by the look of concentration on his face. He was planning, and it probably meant he’d get himself in trouble.

  “Gavin, please.” Daisy glanced at the hallway into the kitchen. Too much cold air and bright light spread out from the rear of the room. The back door must be wide open. “You know what a morpher can do.”

  Gavin pulled her close and kissed her deeply. “Go on.”

  She let go, her mind pulled to how best to stop an unstoppable killing machine, but Gavin squeezed her hand again. When she glanced back, the look on his face said everything: Be careful. I’m terrified. I’ll do what you need me to do. Don’t worry.

  I love you.

  Daisy felt the small gasp pass over her lips. Felt it fill her throat and wrap around her heart. But she needed to help the godlings.

  She kissed her true love and ran for the kitchen.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The morpher could be the couch, for all Gavin knew. He glanced around, as much looking for a way to free the dogs as to make sure the furniture didn’t knife him in the back.

  Both Rysa and Daisy had explained that Shifter abilities didn’t work that way. Changing into something non-human usually resulted in brain damage, so at least Gavin had that going for him. Whatever controlled the morphing process worked only within well-established neuroscience models and a pissed off flower vase wasn’t going to break his knees.

  Same went for Rysa’s processing of her Fate abilities and Ladon’s weird comprehension blind spots and his all-too-real PTSD. Calling scents operated under strict rules as well.

  The mechanisms controll
ing the superhuman world weren’t magic. Everything happened within an established paradigm, and a paradigm meant real-world predictability.

  But right now, he had two huge dogs to get over a gaping hole. “What the hell happened?” he whispered, knowing Radar couldn’t answer.

  The banister was still in place. The join where the banister met the ceiling looked loose and the connection to the bottom spindle had already been severed. Gaps showed at both ends. Radar hopped down the last remaining step and looked down through the gaps, yipping. Maybe…

  Gavin climbed onto the sideboard under the railing. The wall was still intact even though the damage had displaced most of the connections between it and the banister, and seemed sturdy. The problem was the hole was too wide for the dog to jump.

  So Gavin yanked on the rail at the top of the banister. The entire structure creaked.

  “This might work, boy,” he said. If he could push it over, Radar might be able to use it as a ladder.

  Another shove and the entire structure rattled. Another, and wood plate under the spindles lifted off its damaged connection.

  But he needed better leverage. Gavin hopped down off the sideboard and returned to the post at the bottom of the staircase, in the foyer. Bracing his feet, he gave the barely-attached post a solid push.

  The entire length of the railing fell over the stairs, from the header next to Radar to the length next to his feet.

  Radar barked and carefully clambered down, one front paw only lightly touching a spindle and his back paws slowly, carefully moving far enough down he could stretch to the intact steps.

  Blood caked the dog’s front left paw. “What happened, boy?” Gavin asked as if the dog could actually tell him. “Where’s Ragnar?”

  Radar barked.

  Gavin closed his eyes and listened, praying that his aids would this one time manifest super-hearing again. But they didn’t, and he heard nothing beyond Radar’s scuffling.

  He’d have to climb to the second floor.

  “Go help Daisy.” He shooed Radar toward the kitchen.

  Radar looked over his shoulder at the kitchen, then back to Gavin. The dog sniffed his hand, and whimpered.

  “She needs you more than me right now.” He stroked the dog’s head. “And she’ll heal your paw. Go.”

  This time, Radar listened. He limped off as quietly as he could, his ears perked, listening.

  Gavin looked at the banister over the hole. He weighed half-again as much as Radar. But someone needed to go up there. Ragnar needed help, and possibly Dragon. Once he made it to the attic, he would call Daisy or Rysa. Ask for back-up.

  He wiggled the banister again. He wouldn’t be on it that long. This wasn’t any worse than climbing the rocks near his parents’ lake cabin. Up and over, and he’d be on the second floor.

  Except the rocks didn’t have an open pit below them.

  “Fuck it.” Gavin scrambled over the hole, quickly climbing the rails as if they were a ladder. He didn’t look down. Dust filled the air over the hole, as did the tangy smell of blood and spilled vinegar.

  He tried not to think about it. When he hit the second floor, he crawled to the far wall, panting even though he hadn’t exerted himself in any way, just darted up what used to be the stairs. He made it without incident. No panting needed.

  A canine whine echoed down the hall from behind the open attic door. Gavin leaned over and tried to peer around the door, hoping to get a glimpse of Ragnar. “Hey, boy,” he said.

  A boom slammed through the house, loud and sudden and sounding very much like a gun going off. Gavin skittered away from the stairs and out of view, toward the open door. Should he go down? If they were shooting at each other, then he was safer upstairs. But what about Daisy?

  Another boom echoed through the house, followed closely by a third.

  Gavin scrambled to his feet and threw the attic door wide. Ragnar lay on his side at the foot of the stairs, bloody and stinking of fear, but alive and breathing. “Oh, man…” He stroked the dog’s head.

  Another boom echoed from outside. Daisy screamed.

  She needed help. “Dragon!” he yelled. The beast needed to wake up. “We need—”

  He didn’t see what hit him. He didn’t hear anything slide against the wall or the hallway floor creaking. The air swished and a massive flame curled around his body and Gavin Bower flew backward into the wall opposite the attic door.

  His head bounced against the wall. His aids popped out of his head, first the left, then the right, both dropping to the smooth hardwood of the hallway. He watched them bounce, blinking, as pain boomed through his skull the same way the noises from downstairs boomed through the house. His vision swished. He gagged.

  And the last thing Gavin Bower remembered was a streak of brilliant lights flooding every corner and every crevice of the house.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Their t-shirts looked identical, which meant that Vivicus morphed the skin of his chest to look like clothing. Both pairs of jeans looked real, as did the boots. Vivicus must have stolen items from the house, or from Ladon’s van.

  Daisy tugged the shotgun up-out-up and the arms released. This far away and inside her mudroom, her nose wasn’t giving her the hints she needed to tell them apart. Vivicus looked, smelled, and moved like Ladon.

  They were functionally identical.

  Claws scuffed along the tile behind her—Gavin had freed Radar. The heavy stink of dog blood wafted in front of her German shepherd and she crouched down to heal his wounds as fast as she dared.

  A flash of heat moved from her hand to his front paw. The cut mended. The bruise vanished. Radar’s pain subsided and her boy stood his full canine height.

  She glanced out at the fight just as Derek rolled away. “Bite fabric. Rip shirt,” she instructed as she blew out ‘quick attack’ and ‘bite retreat,’ the two calling scents she used to train her dogs to fight morphers. They were to go in fast, cause quick damage, and retreat before the morpher compensated. Never latch on. Never stay close.

  Radar turned toward the fight, his head low and his haunches ready to pounce.

  “Protect Ladon,” Daisy added along with a good dose of ‘recognize friend.’

  Radar wagged his tail in a silent sign of understanding.

  Daisy cocked the gun and threw open the door. “Derek!” she yelled. “Get down!”

  The two Ladons rolled through the snow, both growling and both holding their left arms as if they had fractured forearms.

  Radar lunged by her legs, a silent and deadly bullet of fur and jaws. He rolled right, his head coming in under the arm of one of the Ladons, and his teeth latched onto black fabric.

  It didn’t rip or lift or slide, like real fabric. It puckered in the dog’s mouth, pulling but not stretching, and tore off like flesh.

  Daisy fired. Buckshot slammed into the morpher’s chest and knocked him backward, into the snow.

  Ladon howled, his damaged left arm peppered, and Radar yipped, skidding away, also wounded.

  Daisy blasted out ‘come’ and ‘no pain’ for her dog. He circled around to heel at her side as she jumped off the stoop. She readied the gun to fire again.

  Vivicus chuckled as he sat up, the wounds on his chest already closing. His left arm straightened and loosened, no longer fake-fractured. He gave Daisy the finger.

  She shot him in the head.

  Ladon groaned, his face slack. He laid flat on his back in the snow, steam rising off his wounds and his shallow breaths puffing off his lips. His muscles knotted and his groans sounded ragged.

  Massive amounts of pain wafted off his skin. Pain like someone cut him open with a jumper-cables-attached scalpel. He smelled as if someone electrocuted his blood.

  “Get him inside!” She waved at her cousin.

  Derek didn’t look much better. Whatever was happening to Ladon also affected Derek. He blanched and held his stomach as he dropped to his knees.

  “Pull it together, Dracae!” she yelled.
Channeling Anna might get them up and moving.

  She laid her hand on Radar’s neck. “Heal.” She forced an undifferentiated bolt into his flesh, to bolster all his systems.

  The hamburger of Vivicus’s face knitted around his eyes, then across his nose and mouth. He’d be able to see again in seconds. She skirted his writhing limbs, the gun still aimed at his head, and crouched next to Ladon.

  “Get up!” He weighed close to three hundred pounds and she couldn’t drag him. She couldn’t help him sit up. “Ladon! Get—”

  Vivicus jumped into a crouch and swept his fist toward her head.

  Daisy pumped the shotgun and blasted him in the face again.

  He didn’t flinch. He didn’t fall back. His face puckered and he giggled like an evil toddler. “You got spunk, kiddo.”

  She pumped the gun again. Nothing happened.

  “Looks like you’re out of—”

  Radar lunged. His big jaws latched onto the back of Vivicus’s neck and he bit, his head wagging, as he tried to rip off all the flesh between him and the morpher’s spine.

  Vivicus swore as he twisted. Daisy’s dog flew toward the house.

  He hit with an audible snap.

  “Radar!” she screamed. Was he dead? Did she let Vivicus kill her dog?

  Derek panted as much as Ladon. “The beast is in pain.” He pointed at the house. “He’s confused—”

  Vivicus kicked him in the side. Derek humphed and fell over, but swung up his arm, snaring Vivicus. The morpher slammed onto the ice, his head bouncing with a loud crack.

  He kicked. Derek bellowed, new blood welling up on his arm, and he rolled onto his side.

  Daisy dropped the shotgun. She’d managed to enthrall out Gavin’s animal side and use her healer on him. Maybe she could do the same with Vivicus. Then lay on her hands as she pushed and breathed out ‘die.’

  But he was too fast. Too strong. He hauled Ladon to his feet. “I will snap his neck, you little half-Russian bitch.” He curled his hand around Ladon’s throat.