Love Charms

by Multiple

  My stomach turned at the mention of food. I was being bled like a pig and about to witness a murder, I doubted I would have much of an appetite later.

  “There, that should do it.” He held the bowl up inspecting its contents. “We’re ready to begin then.

  Kristoff walked to the center of the room, where it was darkest. With a silent command of his will, which I felt as an electrical charge in the air, the crystals flared bright as stage lights, illuminating every crack and crevice. And Kristoff, a triumphant smile on his face, stood next to an unmoving Vera lying on a steel surgical table.

  I gasped and tugged at the bonds still holding my hands behind my back. “No.”

  “Yes,” Kristoff said as he walked in a slow, wide circle around Vera, marking his path with my blood.

  “But I did everything you asked me to.”

  “Who says my decision has anything to do with you?” Kristoff paused to frown at me. “Your friend has brought this on herself with her stubbornness. I gave her one last chance today and she refused. I have no more time to persuade her.”

  “Let me talk to her. I can convince her to do whatever you want.”

  “I’m afraid the time is past for bargaining. I need results and I need them now. She won’t give me what I want willingly, so I must take steps to force her to suit my needs.”

  I made to move toward him, but Kristoff held up a hand, slamming his will into mine like he had in the astral plane. I collapsed against the wall with an audible thud. “You will not interfere. If you do, you’ll be shocked and next in line after your friend.” He smiled. “Sometimes, people are better off dead.”

  Yeah, except we disagreed as to who. I looked around the room for some means of escape or rescue, something, anything to save myself and Vera. There was nothing but smooth wall and the crystals and I knew better than to hope for the FIB to show up.

  A poke on the back of my leg reminded me I had the fork and a dagger. While the dagger had remained in the front of my pants and beyond my reach, the fork had shifted around to the back of my hip. If I could just move it a few more inches back, I might be able to reach it. Slowly, inch by inch, I rubbed my hip against the wall forcing the fork closer to my hands. The victory I felt once I had it in hand was short-lived. My arms were still tied behind me and I doubted I would be very effective fighting backwards.

  I pulled against the rope, straining to find some way to wiggle free. Recalling various television shows and movies I’d seen, I decided to try to slide my arms down behind my legs and under my feet to at least get them in front of me. It was the best idea I had and worth a shot.

  Quietly as I could, I slid down to the floor and began to inch my hands under my hips. It was slow, hard work. A gymnast I was not, I couldn’t even touch my ankles let alone my toes. It was impossibly uncomfortable and difficult, but, somehow, my body figured it out and I managed to scoot my hands down the backs of my legs until I cleared my feet, although a burning sensation in my hamstring told me I would pay for my contortions later.

  I staggered to my feet and sawed through the rope that bound me with the dagger. Kristoff didn’t even notice, he was preoccupied with sorting through his tray of surgical instruments. Luckily, the dagger was sharp enough to saw through my bonds in a few quick strokes. Once I was free, I inched toward Kristoff, fork in one hand, dagger in the other.

  The necromancer, confident that I posed no threat, had his back to me, totally focused on his collection of sharp murder weapons. The sound of metal on metal rang in the air as he arranged scalpels in neat rows on the tray.

  Unaware of my advance, Kristoff lectured me. “The first thing we do is bleed the zombie dry. You’ll notice the table has grooves and a collection bucket to catch the blood. Not only does this serve as the means of death, but it is also used to raise a zombie from the dead.”

  I couldn’t resist a quick glance at the table as he spoke. Indeed, there were shallow gutters to catch fluids tracing the outline of the table. The table was tilted at such an angle so as to drive all blood to a steel bucket at the corner by Vera’s foot.

  The bucket would remain empty if I had anything to do with it. I was close enough to strike now and I raised both the dagger and the fork, brandishing them like swords, trying to figure out what to do with them. I felt an inappropriate urge to poke Kristoff in the butt as it was the most available target, but that would be too much like shaking a red cape in front of a bull; highly irritating, but not terribly effective as an offense. The best target would probably be his neck, but not with his back to me.

  Unfortunately, while I pondered my strategy, Vera woke up, took one look at me and said, “Sofia, what are you doing?”

  Kristoff whirled around, the surprise on his face quickly giving way to a suave calm. He looked at me with arched eyebrows. “You found a way around the collar. Impressive.”

  I didn’t wait for him to finish, knowing I was seconds away from being shoved back to the wall. I charged forward, fork in front of me since it had a longer reach, and threw my entire body into the movement. I got lucky and hit him in the stomach. The fork punctured his clothes and the tissue underneath, which resisted at first, but then gave way with surprising ease.

  Kristoff grunted and doubled over, barreling into me so hard I dropped the dagger. I kept moving though, knowing a fork in the stomach would be nothing more than a superficial wound at best. Thinking quickly, I grabbed the bucket off its hook and banged Kristoff over the head. He staggered, hands around the fork handle and looked up at me with a mixture of fear and shock.

  “Mark! Someone! Get in here,” he yelled, scuttling away from me, simultaneously pulling the fork out of his stomach and throwing it away from him, with an angry glare in my direction.

  I grabbed a scalpel off the surgical tray and widened my stance, bucket still swinging from my other hand. We circled each other warily, but before I could lunge at him, he slammed his will into me.

  “Stop.” A wall of energy made it impossible to do anything else. I went still.

  “Drop the scalpel.”

  The scalpel clattered to the floor.

  “Don’t move.” Kristoff’s will clamped down on me until I had to fight to breathe.

  Mark came into the room. “What’s going on?” He looked from me to Kristoff.

  Kristoff sighed, irritated. “You’re too late. It’s over. Your girlfriend is fighting the inevitable, but stay. Watch my back and watch Sofia learn that crossing me is very expensive.” Kristoff looked at me with a broad smile.

  Unable to move, I couldn’t respond, but I was thinking ‘fuck you’ very loudly. I’d thought getting rid of the collar would restore my free will, but Kristoff had not only power, but the experience to ram it into me until I was his to do with as he pleased.

  “Put the bucket back and go stand next to your friend.”

  Grudgingly, I marched, stiff as a robot, to return the bucket to its hook and then moved until I was next to Vera. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second and looked at me with bleary recognition before snapping shut again. She wasn’t tied up, and if she would just wake up, we might have a shot, but Kristoff’s control, more effective than a gag, didn’t let me call her name.

  Kristoff came up behind me and with one quick yank on the collar, cut off my air supply. “Your collar doesn’t rely on magic alone, or did you forget?”

  I swallowed, fighting for air. I had forgotten about the mechanical features of the collar and I was paying for it now.

  With his other hand, Kristoff played with my hair, twining it around his finger as he whispered, “And lucky for me, I have my own way of forcing compliance. I was just going to let you watch, but I think you’ve earned a more active role, don’t you?” He gave a harsh laugh and released his hold on the collar. “Put the scalpel against her throat.”

  My hand moved before I could even think of resisting. Sweat poured down my face, dripping off my nose as I put forth everything I had to pull back, but it didn’t work. If som
ething didn’t happen soon, I was about to murder my only friend. Shit. Tears joined the sweat.

  Kristoff put his hand over mine, cold fingers delicately directing my hand to the hollow of Vera’s neck. “You cut here, as deep as you can, and then slice over to the other side.” He moved my hand to demonstrate applying the barest of pressure, but even so, the blade was so sharp a thin line of blood sprang forth as we went.

  “The blood will come out fast at first, you might get sprayed. I love that part.” I couldn’t shield myself from feeling exactly how much he liked getting sprayed with hot blood. A shudder tried to work its way through my body, but didn’t make it past Kristoff’s control.

  Kristoff continued to talk about the mechanics of bleeding Vera dry, but I tuned him out, preferring to focus my attention on finding a way to break his hold on me. Desperate, I marshaled what power I could, and, in a flash of inspiration, pulled on the energy from the crystals. I had been trying to fight Kristoff physically when maybe I really needed to meet him on the metaphysical level. At least, that’s the theory I came up with. If I was wrong, Vera would die.

  I sucked in as much power I could, lacing my aura with sparkling energy. When I couldn’t hold anymore ‘juice’ I tested Kristoff’s control of me and found that I was stronger. I pushed through his domination, using pulses of energy to shatter his focus.

  He jumped as if I had hit him and then came at me with another wave of psychic force, launching a cord of dark energy that snaked its way toward me. I countered it with white light and couldn’t suppress a triumphant smile when his attack bounced off of my shields.

  To an outsider, the whole thing would’ve looked like a staring contest with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. In fact, Mark didn’t even realize anything was wrong, but on the metaphysical plane, we dueled each other, fast and furious, in brilliant flashes of light.

  As powerful as I felt, I knew I couldn’t fight forever. I needed to find a way to end our confrontation before I weakened. Remembering the scalpel in my hand, I moved toward Kristoff at the same moment he rammed through my defenses and froze me again with a single word.

  “Stop.” He smiled when I froze in place.

  Remaining calm, I pulled my energy back and strengthened my connections with the crystals, funneling more energy inward, preparing for another strike. This time, I also paid attention to the physical plane and tightened my grip on the scalpel, knowing I would have to move fast.

  Any doubts I had about killing him had disappeared. It was either him or me, and I chose me. For the moment, I played along, allowing him to direct me back over to Vera. At his command, I held the scalpel poised over the pulse beating in her neck. It wasn’t until then that I sent another blast of energy his way.

  Behind me, he sucked in his breath at the impact. At the same time, I whirled around and drove the scalpel deep into his neck. The skin was thinner there than in the stomach and the scalpel was sharper than the fork, which allowed the blade to slice through with little resistance. I jerked the scalpel in a rough slicing motion, hoping I would hit an artery.

  Kristoff staggered and wrapped an arm around my wrist, grappling me to the floor. He pinned me with his knees and somehow got a hold of the scalpel. I tensed as his arm began the downswing.

  Mark intervened then, pulling Kristoff off me. “What are you doing?”

  “Let go of me,” Kristoff snarled.

  Ignoring them both, I rolled to my feet and picked up another scalpel from the tray. I lunged past Mark, aiming again for Kristoff’s neck again. This time Mark shoved me back so hard, I fell.

  Mark scowled at me. “Stop it. You can’t kill him yet, you don’t know how to make zombies.”

  Kristoff laughed. “Is that what the game is? I teach her my art and she turns on me? I think not.” He came at me, a fierce look on his face and fists clenched.

  I sidestepped and his first pass missed. He whirled around and swung at me, but Mark, having grabbed the steel bucket, smashed it into the side of his head. Kristoff stumbled, but didn’t fall.

  “Don’t touch her,” my zombie boyfriend growled.

  Taking advantage of Mark’s interference, I aimed for Kristoff’s neck again. I was so focused on the necromancer that I didn’t see Mark swing the bucket at me.

  Steel clanged into my skull and I struggled to keep my feet under me. “What did you do that for?” I screamed at Mark. The world went gray around the edges and I fought to keep it from going black. “I’m not the enemy, he is.” I pointed at Kristoff who had recovered and was preparing to launch another psychic attack against me. I didn’t have a lot of time.

  “I can’t let you kill him until you know how to bring me back,” Mark said, frowning at me.

  “So, you’ll kill me to protect him?” I parried a stream of energy from Kristoff, reciprocating with one of my own, which Kristoff easily blocked. Julia was right, we were both similar in strength, something that could be a problem. I could see this ending in a potential stalemate, and then what?

  “No, of course not.”

  I spared a moment to glare at him before returning my focus to Kristoff who had armed himself with two scalpels. “You’ll just beat me into submission then. I get it.”

  “Look, Sofia. I just want to be with you. You know that.” Mark stepped in front of me, blocking my line of vision. “Just stop fighting, both of you. You’re going to get hurt.” He spoke to both of us, but it was me he threatened with the bucket. This was love? I didn’t think so.

  Kristoff and I each stepped around Mark and reached for each other. Kristoff hooked a leg behind mine, applying pressure to the back of my knee. I went down with him on top of me and we ended up in the same place as before, Kristoff straddling me, a cruel gleam in his eye, and arm raised, ready to strike home.

  Two things happened then. Mark went to punch Kristoff, who deflected his blow with a raised forearm, and a sudden white light beamed into the room, blinding us all. When it faded, Malcolm stretched tall over us, white wand in one hand and a sword in the other. With a primal yell, he swung his sword and decapitated Kristoff in one stroke.

  “And so the circle is complete,” he said as the head flew backwards, still moaning as it went. Hot blood rained down on me, and Kristoff’s limp body drove the scalpel into my chest. In the background, I heard Mark screaming ‘no’, but whether it was out of concern for me or concern for himself, I couldn’t tell. The black depths of unconsciousness claimed me, wrapping me in a smothering cocoon of nothing.

  *

  I don’t know how long I was out as I no longer even knew who I was. I drifted in a black world of emptiness, a place of ‘unbeing’, unable to even reach the astral plane and not caring if I ever did again. Gradually, though, I became aware of sounds; high-pitched beeps, soft voices, the scuff of shoes on the floor. More time passed, and I began to feel sensation: something tight around my arm, something sharp under the skin of my hand, heavy covers pressing down on my legs, keeping them too warm.

  At some point, I opened my eyes. Slowly at first, cautious. A bright light overhead seared my pupils and I snapped my eyes shut fast as a turtle retreating into its shell. The dark harbored me for a bit longer, but the light had been enough to make me aware I wasn’t dead. I needed to wake up.

  The next time I tried to open my eyes, I was even more cautious. I started with slits and then blinked one eye open followed by the other, and, with perseverance, the fuzzy blurs of color came into gradual focus.

  I saw white ceiling tiles first. Then mint green walls. A dull ache on the side of my head throbbed. When I moved to touch it, I noticed an IV in my forearm. I jumped when something hissed and tightened on my arm, relieved to see it was only a blood pressure cuff. I was in a hospital, a fact I confirmed by a quick check under the covers which proved my underwear was gone and that the gown wouldn’t even cover a pixie’s butt. Definitely a hospital.

  I frowned. How had I gotten here?

  A faint memory came to me of fighting Kristoff. I close
d my eyes and Kristoff’s face flashed on the back of my eyelids followed by the moment Malcolm’s sword came down on his neck. Ick. Not something I wanted to see again.

  I must’ve survived the fight then.

  Amazing.

  Exhausted by my foray into the conscious world, I let myself drift away again. This time though, it was a normal, healthy sleep.

  When I woke up, Vera was there, sitting in an old plastic bucket chair at the foot of the bed, reading a magazine. White bandages wound around both hands, leaving just a few fingers free for her to turn the pages. She looked up when I stirred.

  “You’re awake.” She smiled.

  I nodded and said something that was supposed to be ‘yes’ but it came out sounding more like a frog with laryngitis. I tried again. “Your hands.” I reached for her.

  Vera set her magazine aside and came to stand beside me. “It was necessary.”

  I lightly touched the bandages. “Was it?”

  She gave a decisive nod. “It wasn’t a future I could escape.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, tears pricking my eyes.

  “Don’t be. We won and we’re alive. We have more to celebrate than mourn.” She gingerly patted my arm. “Let me get you something to drink. You sound like a frog in a desert.” She left and returned a moment later with a can of orange juice and a small plastic pitcher filled with water.

  Wheeling the tray table over and arranging it so I could reach my drinks, she said, “You’ve been out a couple days.” Noticing my eyes widening in alarm, she laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing serious, at least as far as any of these doctors can tell. You just got hit pretty hard and stabbed in the chest. You lost a lot of blood which is why you’re so woozy.”

  I gulped the orange juice, wincing as the acid burned my dry throat. Clearing my throat, I said, “Stabbed?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  I shook my head.

  “Kristoff got you in a couple places. You have stitches on your arms and on your collar bone.” She gently touched my breastbone. “And he got you here pretty bad.”