by R. J. Blain
Cia said, “We can rebind it.”
Eli rushed out of the dark and tore a vial of holy water off Jane’s belt. Upended it over her face. The mud boiled up and slid off. Jane rolled over, coughing. Gagging.
Liz remembered. Like being slammed in the head with the memories, all the memories, all at once. She crawled into the cave behind the narrow falls. The phosphorescent moss was everywhere. Except on the skeleton. The skeleton had been sacrificed for some great cause, or murdered, killed with a copper age ax, the ax head left embedded in the skull. She had gotten power drunk from the leyline energies. She had gotten close to the skeleton. She touched the ax. Her foot touched the mud puddle. Power drunk and not thinking about consequences.
Liz pulled up her knees and put her head on them, letting the final memories flood through her. The leyline energies had opened up pathways through all her magic. The energies in the demon-binding had used the blood-curse taint to get into her. And she had let it. And the demon… The demon had tried to possess her. Twice. Both times by sliming mud into her airways. It had nearly succeeded.
She raised her head and turned her attention to the mud demon. She had touched the ax head that had held it in place for thousands of years. “The demon was bound with copper from up north, around two thousand years ago. When I fought it, I caught a glimpse of all the copper chain and the ax head, and the human skull used in the binding and then it did that ‘mud-to-the-airways’ thing to me that it just tried with Jane. I didn’t have holy water, but I got away.” She remembered her own short fights in the dank, green cave beneath the falls. Remembered falling back and down, through the waterfall, into the pool of water. The pool had washed away the mud. The pool water that ran through stones attuned to the leyline, and at that time, to her amulets. Right. Okay. She had the timeline. And from that she could come up with better geometry than she had on her own.
“Good,” Cia said. “We can use the binding material to draw it back. Did it get access to your blood?”
No recriminations, no unnecessary questions. Simple acceptance and pushing forward, as always between them.
Liz rolled up her pants and looked her knee. She had barked it on the rocks when she was getting out of the cave. She touched her head, which still hurt in a mushy, bruised kind of way “Yeah. Not much, but enough.”
Cia held out one hand. Liz took it. “I’ll keep open the hedge and the seeing working,” Cia said. “You try to reach the leyline. See if the magic can be repaired to rebind the demon. If not, we’ll figure out an alternative plan.” They placed their hands together on the ground of the firepit, and Liz reached into the earth for the leyline. With her twin’s power backing her up, she spotted it instantly even through the layer of clay. It was easier to jump from rock to rock, closer to the leyline. The demon had escaped, and the connection binding the demon to the leyline had frayed in the last hours, freeing much of the power. As she edged closer, energy flooded into her exhausted mind and body. The hedge around them strengthened.
The demon backed away and grabbed Jane, wrapping its magic around her.
Jane screamed in pain. Her scream was cut off.
Liz shut away the sounds of fighting and concentrated on the demon’s magic trail underground, rock to rock, boulder to shattered stone. The trail was a pale light glimmering softly. The cave was just ahead, a beacon she hadn’t been able to reach before. But now, her skin heated, following the trajectory of the demon. The skin on her arms ached and burned. She gasped, and heard herself moan, back on the surface. Whatever the demon had done to her in the fight, it was exacting a painful price. On the surface, her sister did something, and the burning eased like a wash of moonlight.
She slid her magic into the cave. It was no longer brightly lit with the energy of the living moss, the phosphorescence glowing in her seeing working. Instead it was dark. The gasses and the presence of evil had killed all the moss. Where the mud had been was a dark hole about four feet deep, its bottom muddy. In the very center, a deeper hole went down. And down. Noxious gases streamed up from it, filling the cave. At the back of the four foot depression, was the skull, the ax head, and the copper chain coiled around small bones and bone fragments. From the copper ran a single trail of binding up to the surface. Into the clearing where she sat. Geometry. A very messy triangle, from cave overland to the demon, from the firepit to the cave.
“The demon is still connected to the original binding,” Liz murmured. “Copper ax head, copper chain. The skull.”
“Probably not a sacrifice. Probably the skull of the man or woman it had possessed,” Cia said. “We need some of the binding items here, in order to trap it. Then we can force it back there.”
“It’s got a tether. It can’t get much farther away from the pit it was in, than it is now. Its maximum distance is the clearing.”
“Or is its maximum distance you?” Cia asked.
“Oh Jeeze.” She studied the final binding. She looked back with her witch gifts and inspected her own skin. “You may be right.”
“Guilt it up later. What can you tell about the site where it used to be bound?”
With her magic, Liz explored the rocks at the entrance. “The entrance is visible now from the front of the waterfall. I think when I hit my head, I took some rocks with me. We need to get back there and get the original binding material.”
“Not us. We’re the bait. We keep the demon here while Eli goes.”
Liz didn’t want Eli in the cave. Didn’t want him to touch the metal. Knew this was all her fault because she had gotten magic-drunk and touched the copper ax and the mud. She pulled her magic back to the surface. On the surface, the battle was at a standstill.
Jane was at the far edge of the clearing. She had changed forms, into human, yet she was still coughing. They had thrown everything they had at it and it was still upright and going strong, the vamp-killer still sticking out of the demon’s side. It was ignoring everything in the clearing except the firepit.
Eli was walking guard duty, eyes out to the woods and the dark.
Three dead werewolves were outstretched, all three in partial shift form. They had died full of silver, and so hadn’t been able to shift back to human and heal. Brute was on the ground near them, panting, bloodied, and being fed by… Lincoln Shaddock.
Shaddock was the master of the city of Asheville. He was a powerful vamp, and vamps did not feed werewolves, even angel-touched weres. Everyone knew vamps and weres hated each other. Except Shaddock was feeding the wolf anyway, one eye on the hedge of thorns and the demon leaning over it.
Then it hit Liz why he was here. The Mayhew vampires were involved in this trap. He had condemned one Mayhew to death and clearly allowed the widower to live. So this was on him, as much as it was on her.
Liz looked up at the demon. It leaned in on other side of the hedge, once again pressing with the shattered bone, draining the energies of their protection. As soon as the moon was below the horizon, Cia was going to lose power. The demon wasn’t going anywhere unless one of the twins moved. Then it would follow. And it would likely be able to possess which ever one of them it caught. It would use witch magic to free itself totally. Its first order of business would be to destroy anyone who might try to stop it, so it would kill her family. It would be free in the world. She had to fix what she had messed up.
“Drop the sound-deadening working,” she said to Cia. A layer of magics slid down into a moonstone in Cia’s hand. “Eli?” Liz called.
The Army Ranger turned to her. “There’s a cave under the falls at the pool. It’s full of dangerous gasses. Midway to the back of the cave is an oval depression with a muddy bottom Sitting on the muddy bottom is a chain made of flat rectangular copper pieces, each attached to the next with a floating tab. There’s also some bone fragments and a skull with a copper ax head in it. We need a small part of the chain and a fragment of the bone. But you can’t disturb the skull or the ax head. In fact, touching anything in the cave might be deadly, even the thin
gs we’re sending you to get. And when you get back, the demon will likely attack you for the bone fragment.”
“Waterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain. It may all kill me. Got it.” He grinned widely again, the light in his eyes just a little too bright. “Lizzie, I still say this sucks as a date, but you sure do know how to show a retired Ranger a good time.”
With that, he melted into the dark, grabbing up his backpack as he disappeared.
“Nice,” Cia said, staring at his butt.
“Stop that. He’s mine.”
“No doubt about that at all, sis,” Cia agreed. “And the way he looked at you?” She fanned herself as if too warm. “And that nice backside? Oh my…”
Liz grinned. “Stop it.”
“Mmm hmm. Lizzie.”
“I hate that name.”
“Not when he says it.”
Ignoring her and the demon leaning on the hedge over her, Liz sent her magic back along the trail to the pool and up into the cave. This time, she didn’t need Cia’s help. She had a trail of her own magic to follow.
Eli
“Waterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain. It may all kill me,” he repeated. “Got it.” He grinned widely again, liking the way Lizzie didn’t look away from him. She was seeing him at his best, and maybe his worst. And she seemed to accept that. “Lizzie, I still say this sucks as a date, but you sure do know how to show a former Ranger a good time.”
He grabbed up his daypack and melted into the dark. There was no indication of more werewolves, but he wasn’t taking chances. He swung the shotgun around on its tactical sling, positioned the weapon at alert, ready for fast firing, but allowing free movement away on the sling as needed.
His night vision had been negatively affected by the glow-stones Cia had thrown. Normally it took twenty minutes to get it all back, so he moved with care, following a path he had taken four times before now. He hadn’t exactly memorized every rock and root, but he’d been well trained. The landscape was embedded in his mid-term memory, ready for use. He shifted around a broken tree. Stepped over a downed limb, one with green leaves still on it. That hadn’t been here before. The demon might have brought it down or ripped it free. He slowed his pace, in case there were more unexpected surprises. He caught a whiff of the burned trees the demon had ignited, and other traces of brimstone. And he caught a hint of something else, something he couldn’t identify but that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He moved slower. Checking above, around, behind.
Moving uphill, upstream, at night, under a canopy of trees was dicey, but eventually he heard the distinctive sound of the waterfall. Skirted the tree. Checked his internal clock. He had left the clearing twelve minutes ago. Too long. Moonset was coming. Cia, moon witch, would run of out power. Whatever they were going to do with the copper and the bones, had to be completed before then.
The pool appeared, just ahead. He drank another bottle of water. Stopped to piss. Took in his surroundings. No sign of another werewolf. So far. But that faint stink. And the warning of his body that said he wasn’t alone.
His night vision had improved as he walked, but he’d be in a cave in moments. He’d need a flash. He would need to keep one eye closed to preserve his night sight. No way was he going to risk needing a flash for the walk back. Not with werewolves.
The aftereffects of the gun battle with the furry bat-shit-crazy humans coursed through him. He stopped and breathed through it. Maybe five seconds. The big battle was ahead. Waterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain. It may all kill me. He laughed silently. Jane sometimes complained that her life was weird. She had no idea.
He moved the last steps to the pond. The waterfall was noisy enough that his hearing was impacted. There could be a werewolf at the top of the falls and he’d never know. He cursed to himself and repositioned his weapons. Again. Shotgun at ready. Tactical flash off but ready. Breathed in and out five hard breaths.
Stepped out. Toward the falls. He caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He swung the shotgun toward it. Knowing it was already too late.
Liz
“Grindylow!” Liz shouted, calling the were-killer-creature. “Werewolf at the pool!”
In a flash the kittycat killer disappeared.
“What!” Cia demanded. “What did you see?”
“There’s a werewolf on the far side of the falls from Eli.”
Cia cursed.
Eli
He swung the weapon. Too late. Too late. Too late, hammered at his brain.
A second motion ripped across in front of his field of vision. A bright light. A swish of sound. A grindylow hit the first thing in midair, directly over the center of the pool. Splashed down.
Disappeared into the water.
Son of a bitch.
Waterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain. And a fucking werewolf.
Eli felt along the cell wall under the waterfall, the water soaking him. He felt a depression—the cage opening. He pulled a padded bag from his gear, opened it for easy access, and sucked five more deep breaths, blowing out hard each time, filing his body with oxygen and blowing out carbon dioxide and his body’s reaction to werewolf. Just enough hyperventilation to give himself a bit of non-breathing room. Two minutes. He could hold his breath for two minutes. Under ideal circumstances. That almost made him laugh.
He stepped into the cave. It was black as pitch. Keeping one eye closed, he flicked on the small tactical flashlight and inserted it into his mouth, lips closed around it. Even without taking a breath, it stank like brimstone. His eyes, even the closed one, watered. His skin felt as if flames and dry ice coated his body at the same time. The burned place on his arm where the firepit exploded ached as if it was on fire again. Scorching and frigid.
The walls of the cave were covered with dead vegetation. Slimy water dripped down through the dry, brittle mosses. The stones were sharp, and he had no idea how Lizzie had walked in here barefoot. It had to be a stone witch thing. Carefully, he moved into the cave and shined his light into the bottom of the pit. Eli slung the shotgun back out of the way and pulled his vamp-killer with his left hand and his ten-mill with his right. He lay down on the edge of the pit, checked the cave opening. Nothing. No werewolves.
He turned back to the pit and stretched out the vamp-killer. Adjusted the flashlight with his teeth and tongue. Easing closer over the four foot deep hole, more of his body mass over the pit. His legs on the broken stones. The point of the blade barely touched the copper chain laying tangled on the muddy bottom. Gently he slid it toward him, the sound of ancient copper and modern steel and silver clanking dully. When the chain was directly below him, he checked the cave opening, Clear. Using the vamp-killer point, he dragged five bone fragments to him. They looked like toe or finger bones. Maybe a batch of both. But they were small and kept sliding past the tip of the blade until they were close enough for him tilt the vamp-killer and use a wider part of the blade. It took too long. He could hold his breath for two minutes. Under ideal conditions.
His breath was going. He glanced back at the cave opening. A figure crouched, the falling water moving behind it. Shock raced through him. He lifted the Glock. Stopped. It was small. Not a were. A grindylow. Twelve pounds of adorable killer, looking like a soaking wet, pissed off cat. A cat that had just saved his life. And was guarding the entrance.
Feeling a lot safer, but a lot more breathless, Eli went back to the task at hand. Placed the vamp-killer beside the Glock 20. Forced away the need to breathe. Fought the desire to take that desperate breath. He pulled out the contents from the small open bag—six folded handkerchiefs. He hoped the padding would be enough. He levered his body over the edge. Lowered his upper body down.
The position was too much for his lungs. He exhaled. Inhaled. The coughing started which made him breathe faster. The nausea hit his system. The poison part of the Waterfall, poison, hole, bones, ax, and a chain.
With the handkerchiefs, he picked up the bon
e fragments and placed them on the cave floor. It took too long. The coughing was worsening. Through the folded cloth he could feel the energies of the bones. Sick, burning.
More carefully, he picked up one of the rectangular plates and lifted the chain into the air. Sat up. Shined the light over the chain until he found a lost link. With the handkerchiefs protecting his skin from the worst of the magics, he twisted the link free. Coughing harder. Fighting the need to vomit in the midst of the coughing which could cause him to aspirate.
Eli tossed the chain back into the pit; it landed with a dull clank near where it had been. With the folded cloths, he placed the link and the bones into the padded pouch. Zipped it close. Caught sight of his fingers in the flashlight. White tipped, like frostbite.
He picked up his weapons. Made his way to the cave opening. The grindylow didn’t move and Eli didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He removed the tactical flashlight and clicked it off, while leaning out through the waterfall, letting it drench his head and back, and he coughed the poison out of his lungs. A couple dozen more coughs. Good clean air. He swore softly. This sucked. He breathed deeply again, held it, and pulled back inside the cave. He made sure his treasures were safe, holstered the Glock, and took a firm grip on the cave wall. As he left the cave, he leaned out and let the icy water wash the brimstone stink, the accumulated toxins, and his own sweat off him. Washed the poison out of his eyes. Took in water, swished, and spit. Coughed and breathed.
Dripping, he stepped to the side of the waterfall, changed out his weapons for the shotgun, and made his way to the edge of the cave, near the tree with roots like steps going downstream. On the roots, was a human-shaped body, cut and slashed as if a dozen attackers had cut him to pieces. Eli knew he had to report it to Lincoln Shaddock. This was Linc’s hunting territory. The vamp would have to handle that were-body too.