A Flash of Hex

by Battis, Jes

“Exactly.”

  “Because of something you had planned. Something you didn’t want them to see.” Her expression wavered. “Am I right?”

  “More like—something I might have to do.” I saw her eyes harden. “Something I was prepared to do, if necessary.”

  “So you bought your anonymity. But how? Nobody leaves the CORE without being tracked for the rest of their lives. How did you do it?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” She sighed. “But I paid a high price.”

  “What about Dad? Does he know?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “He may have gotten an inkling over the years that my past was—unorthodox. Frightening, even. But he’s never said anything. He certainly doesn’t know what I am.” She looked at me. “What we are.”

  “Demons,” I breathed. “Or half-demons anyhow.”

  “I always assumed you’d learn about your biological father—in time. I only wish I could have shielded you from the knowledge.”

  “But that’s the problem!” I stood up. “We’ve spent so many years ‘shielding’ each other from crap that now, when the truth counts for so much, we’re totally in the dark! I’m tired of lying. You must be tired, too.”

  “Exhausted,” she agreed.

  “So tell me the truth. What do you know about this killer?”

  She paled slightly. “Don’t go after it, Tessa.”

  “But it knows me. It knew my father, right? I saw the two of them together, in a dream. And you were there.”

  She nodded. She was so calm, it made me want to scream. “Yes. I felt those memories come to the surface tonight.”

  If she knew about the Hextacy, she didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a mother’s selective sight. Or maybe she would have done the same thing herself.

  A possibility unnerved me. “You didn’t . . . block them, did you?”

  “I would never do that. You blocked them yourself. You were only a child, after all, barely six. You couldn’t have understood the enormity of what you were seeing. You couldn’t possibly have known.”

  “He looked at me,” I whispered, “that thing with the eyes like dirty ice. He looked at me, and I was more frightened of him than the creature standing behind him, the one without any eyes at all.”

  “Because he knew you.”

  I started to shake again. “I felt like—he owned me.”

  “That’s not true.” Her grip on me tightened. “He has no real power over you. Always remember that. You’re linked to him, yes, by virtue of genetics, but you’re not his daughter. You’re my daughter.”

  “But I’m a product of you both.” I felt a darkness creeping into me. “I can’t deny it. That monster will always be my father.”

  “He can’t hurt you—not directly.”

  “That’s what you said in the dream.”

  She nodded. “It was another favor. Bought with an even higher price.”

  “Maybe he can’t hurt me, but this other thing can.”

  “Yes. It’s very powerful.”

  “But what is it?”

  She smoothed her long, graying hair. She’d colored it a few weeks ago, and the gray was just starting to show through again. In my dream, her hair had been like fire, like a Valkyrie. She’d been so full of love and rage.

  “An Iblis,” she said finally. “A guardian.”

  “Of what?”

  “The spirit world. There are doors that lead there—places a living person can get through, if they know where to look—but each one is guarded by an Iblis. Your father made a deal of sorts with this one.”

  “I knew it.” I felt like I might throw up again. “Mom, this is my fault, isn’t it? Derrick’s wrong. This is about me.”

  She shook her head. “Oh no, Tessa, it’s not. The Iblis knows you, certainly, because of who and what your father is. But these killings have nothing to do with you. It’s a kind of horrifying coincidence.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I fully understand it either. All I can say is that, years ago, your father made a deal with the Iblis to grant him access to this world—our world. The Iblis took something from him in return. Now, it’s gotten a taste for our world, and it wants to stay. But beings of that sort can’t exist here for long. They . . . start to fray. They break up into shards and fragments, and eventually they dissolve.”

  I felt that familiar stab of cold. “Is that part of it? The ritual, the symbols—are you saying that this thing is trying to use magic to change the rules?”

  “That would be my best guess. It must have learned things from your father—powers and procedures that are forbidden. Things far worse than necromancy.”

  “But why would it want to stay here?”

  She sighed. “Maybe it’s running from something. Maybe it wants a world full of mortals to feed on. Either way, judging from the last kill, it’s very close to completing the ritual that will fully corporealize it.”

  “Caitlin.” I shook my head. “You felt that, too?”

  “Just because I’m not in the CORE doesn’t mean my powers are any less active. I’m not as strong as you—I never was—but I’m no pushover.”

  “I believe that. I saw your athame.”

  She nodded. “I haven’t held that in over a decade.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In a safe place.”

  I briefly imagined my father stumbling upon a blood-forged magical dagger by mistake while looking for a letter opener. The thought made me smile despite myself. It was all so absurd. Having magic didn’t make us any better at communicating or being part of a family. It just made things even more unpredictable.

  “You must know about Mia,” I said finally.

  “I know that she’s precious.”

  “She has a lot of power, Mom. Raw and unfocused. It scares me.”

  “I can help with her. I know what to look for, and what to stay away from. You don’t have to raise her alone, Tessa.”

  I started to cry. It was stupid and unavoidable. My face wouldn’t cooperate with my mind at all, and I felt the hot tears come streaming down my cheeks.

  “Oh, little duck . . .” She hadn’t called me that since I was six. “It’s okay.” She took me in her arms. I laid my head on her breast, and she smoothed my hair. “It’s all going to work out.”

  “I’m actually”—I sniffed, looking up at her—“happy.”

  “You are?”

  “God, yes! I’ve been so confused this whole time, felt like such a fuckup trying to protect Mia, even with Derrick’s help. But I don’t have to lie to you anymore. I can actually ask you things. Like, not just about parenting. About—other stuff.”

  “Like demons.”

  “Yeah.” I let her keep stroking my hair. “Like demons.”

  “Don’t go after it,” she repeated. “It’s cunning, and very strong. If you have to, come at it with a group. Use different powers, different kinds of materia. Try to disorient it. But don’t face it by yourself.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  It was a lie that we could both agree on.

  19

  I slept for most of the drive home, so if there was any tension, I wasn’t consciously aware of it. I lay nestled in the backseat with Mia, and the last thing I remembered before falling into darkness was Lucian saying something to Derrick about waterfront property values. The idea of them sharing the front seat was like matter and antimatter colliding, but the universe hadn’t been destroyed yet, so we seemed to be doing fine. Mia was pensive, staring out the window, but as I started to slip away, I felt her arm brushing mine. It was a nice feeling.

  I awoke briefly when we picked up Miles from the hotel, and things got very interesting for a bit. There was some bickering over who should sit where, since the Festiva wasn’t exactly a luxury sedan, and quarters were cramped already. Derrick proclaimed that, as driver, he got to call shotgun and choose his “wingman,” which was a clear ploy to get Miles in the front seat, but nobody protested. I guess
he deserved a little hand-holding over the stick shift, especially since he’d driven both ways. He’d also been awfully understanding about my foray into hard drugs, and he was keeping his mouth shut about a whole spectrum of craziness. Some paradise by the dashboard light was definitely in order.

  So I didn’t complain about getting squeezed between Lucian and Mia, while Baron lay on top of my feet, looking genuinely excited about the car ride. His belly was warm and soft, and it made me want to join him, curled up on the floor mat.

  I put my head on Lucian’s shoulder. It meant whatever it meant. He didn’t say anything, but I felt his hand on the small of my back. He smelled good. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, we were home.

  We all struggled out of the tiny car, and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was like an urban fantasy novel standing on my front lawn. There was the cynical telepath with a heart of gold, the brooding necromancer whose past was catching up to him, the spatial profiler who’d wandered into our nightmare almost by accident, and the fourteen-year-old nascent vampire who could blow us all up if she lost control of her powers. And then there was me—plucky, bitchy, tactless, exhausted, unlucky in love, and still reeling from the world’s worst narcotic hangover.

  If we were a TV pilot, I doubt we’d make it to series. But there’d sure be one hell of a cult following.

  “Um—Tess?” Derrick was giving me a weird look. I couldn’t take any more looks, questions, or demands. I wanted a hot shower and a device that could erase the last few hours of my life. It made me think of something I’d read in one of my favorite mystery novels: God is a bullet, straight to the head. Just when you start to feel better—you’re dead. That’s what I wanted. A God-shaped bullet that could make me forget about everything. Too bad the solution was a tad permanent.

  “What is it? Is it a demon on our doorstep? Because I left my Glock inside the house, and I don’t feel like fighting. Can we just run it over with the Festiva?”

  “It is, in fact, a demon,” Derrick said. “But this one has a name. And I think you’ve met him before.”

  I didn’t want to look. I really, really didn’t. But I opened my eyes, which had been clenched tightly shut.

  A dirty, scared-looking teenage boy was sitting on our front porch.

  “Patrick?”

  He looked at me sharply. “Are you Tess Corday?”

  I nodded. “How did you find me?”

  “Caitlin gave me your address. She said if there was ever an emergency and I couldn’t find her, I should come here and wait for you. So here I am.” His eyes were very wide, as if he was running on pure adrenaline. “I haven’t heard from her in hours, and I was afraid to go back to the apartment. She said it wasn’t safe there. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  His eyes fell on Mia, and he looked even more startled. It was weird enough to see one of your classmates outside of school for the first time. Weirder still when they turned up surrounded by mages.

  “Aren’t you Mia Polanski?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “That’s my name, yes. And this is my house. So far, you seem to have a fairly good grasp of the concrete, Patrick.”

  He took us all in, looking a bit overwhelmed. “Do all of you live here?”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “No. Tonight we’re having a sleepover. I live here with Tess and Derrick.” She gestured to us. “They’re my legal guardians. Although I don’t think they’re entirely on the level all the time, if you get my drift.”

  “Mia . . .” I warned.

  “This is Miles Sedgwick.” She pointed to him. Miles gave a small wave. “And his dog, Baron. Miles is going to get lucky tonight.”

  “Mia!” I wished fervently for a remote control that could turn her off. Miles had the grace to blush. Derrick glowered at her, but secretly, I could tell he was pretty psyched about the prospect of fooling around with Miles.

  “And lastly, we have Lucian Agrado.” She made a comely gesture, as if this were an infomercial and Lucian was a food dehydrator. “He’s pretty much the bee’s knees as far as Tess is concerned, but don’t spread that around. We like to encourage a real Port Charles atmosphere around here. Lies, secrets, misty cutaways. Sometimes you can almost hear the voice-over.”

  I turned to Patrick. “Mia’s the funny one. Can you tell?”

  “I gathered that.” Despite the façade of calm, I was pretty sure that Patrick was about to collapse. I could see his hands shaking.

  “Come inside,” I told him. “We have to talk. But first, I’ll get you some food. And some clothes. It looks like you got dragged behind a bus.”

  “I was hiding in some dirty places,” he said, falling into step behind me as I opened the door. “It was kind of exciting at first, but that wore off.”

  “It always does.” The warm, familiar smells of the house greeted me: the old hardwood floors, the echo of whatever had been baking in the oven yesterday, and the crisp odor of detergent and fabric softener. It was the exact opposite of what I’d been smelling for most of the night: blood, iron, and death.

  I couldn’t tell Patrick about Caitlin right away. I had to ease him into it. He may have been the magnate’s successor, with untold vampiric powers at his disposal, but I’d seen the rock posters and the dirty laundry in his bedroom. He was still just a kid. When you spent too long in a job like mine, you started to become immune to basic human compassion and contact. Guns, powders, bloodstains, and autopsies became more routine than sharing coffee, making dinner, watching a play. I always had to remind myself that other people didn’t understand that world. You couldn’t just say “disarticulated body” to them and hope for a coherent response. They needed to process.

  “I’ll grab some clothes,” Derrick said, heading for his room upstairs. Miles looked at me for a moment, then shrugged and followed him. Great. Leave the vampire kitten to me while you smooch upstairs. I rubbed my eyes. The monster migraine was still there, and all I wanted to do was pop some Motrin and sink into a bath full of Epsom salts.

  “I’ll—ah—see if I can whip up something to eat in the kitchen,” Lucian said. “I’ll bet we could all do with a late-night snack.”

  I stared at him. Sometimes, the stuff that came out of his mouth was so undeniably wholesome, I forgot that he could raise the dead. Maybe. I still wasn’t sure what the limits of his necromantic abilities were. I didn’t particularly want to find out—not after what I’d seen last time.

  Baron curled up on the couch next to Mia. She crooked her finger at Patrick and smiled wryly. “You. Doorstep boy. Sit down.”

  Patrick blinked at her for a moment, confused. Then he took a seat next to her, settling awkwardly on the couch, arms ramrod straight at his sides.

  “This is weird,” he said simply.

  “There you go with grasping the concrete again.” She sighed. “Let’s talk about something normal. Tell me about AP chem.”

  He stared at her. “You want to hear about my chemistry class?”

  “I have to take it next year, so I need the dirt. How are you with molar numbers? Pretty solid?”

  God bless her.

  I made my way into the kitchen, where I found Lucian chopping vegetables on the cat-shaped cutting board that my mom had given me last Christmas. She gave me something cat-shaped every year. His long fingers were a blur as he sliced through a shiny red pepper. He was almost a little too deft with the knife.

  “We have vegetables?”

  He grinned sideways at me. “You’ve got a lot of random stuff in the fridge, but I managed to assemble a fry-up of sorts. Patrick won’t complain. At that age, I would have eaten anything put in front of me.”

  “He’s shell-shocked. I have to tell him about Caitlin, but I don’t know how.”

  “Tell him the truth. He may hate you for it now, but in the end, he’ll respect you for being honest.”

  “He’s a kid, Lucian, not a Klingon. He’s not honor-bound to respect me. He’s scared and lost, and now I have to tell him that his only friend
in the world is dead.” I blinked. “Permanently dead. Not just undead.”

  “I assume that Caitlin was . . .” He trailed off. I stared at the diced pepper on the cutting board. It made me think of her decimated body.

  “She was obliterated,” I told him. “She’s not coming back. That thing took her apart, piece by piece. It was one of the most fucked-up things I’ve ever seen.”

  Lucian’s eyes went soft with pain. “She was so beautiful. Caitlin. And so powerful. She always tried to do the right thing. It’s a terrible loss.”

  That was exactly what my mother had said about Meredith Silver. How odd to think that Lucian had shared a kind of relationship with the vampire magnate. He’d respected her. Maybe even—

  “Were you two ever involved?” It came out before I could stop it.

  The blade paused, midway through the red pepper. “Involved?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He didn’t look up. “We never slept together, if that’s what you’re asking. And I wouldn’t exactly call her a friend. But she taught me a lot. I looked up to her.”

  Hearing someone say that they “looked up to” an immortal killing machine was no less unnerving than it sounded.

  “I didn’t mean to be weird about it.” I leaned against the counter. “I’m still just trying to put the pieces together.”

  “Am I part of the puzzle?”

  I gave him a long look. “You always have been.”

  He looked over his shoulder at me, and I could barely see the white lily tattoo peeking over his collarbone. There was another mystery. Who or what had marked Lucian Agrado? And what, exactly, was he hiding from in his Yaletown fortress? Knowing my luck, he was simply hiding from me.

  There didn’t seem to be much else to say. We fell into an oddly steady rhythm, chopping and cooking and making little jokes about how small the kitchen was, like this was a perfectly ordinary night. It took about twenty minutes to produce a meal on autopilot, and to our credit, it actually looked good. I came into the living room with a steaming bowl for Patrick, only to discover him wearing Derrick’s Veda Hille T-shirt and a pair of old, baggy jeans. Derrick and Miles were notably absent. Horny bastards. Still, I couldn’t fault them. I’d most likely be doing the same thing, if it were on the menu.