by J. A. Pitts
“Yeah,” I said, a small smile breaking some of the ice in my throat. “Katie. She’s the best.”
“I would wish no less for you.” She stepped forward and hugged me. The action was so quick, I barely had time to squeeze her back before she was bowing back onto the floor.
“Holy crap,” the fifteen year old said from behind the desk. “Who are you?”
I glanced back at him, shrugging.
“No one,” I said, sitting down to put on my boots. “I trained here a long time ago.”
He tapped on the computer a bit then looked up at me, startled. “You’re Megan’s sister, right?”
I nodded, tying my Docs as fast as I could. I needed to get out of there.
“Damn,” he breathed, looking at me with a totally different gleam in his eye. “You’re Sarah Beauhall. Did you know we use your creative form from your black belt test as one of our regular forms now?”
I looked up quickly. “No, seriously?” That was news.
“Sa Bum Nim added it last spring,” he was looking at me like I had two heads. “First time in the school history they added a new form. I had to learn it for my belt.” He stood, stepped around the desk and held up the loose ends of his belt. “First degree requires that form in addition to the normal stuff.”
I looked out on the floor, and Choi was demonstrating the proper foot position for a front kick to several students. She honored me way beyond anything I’d ever imagined.
“What did she call the form?” I asked, remembering I’d called it something like Angry Woman form. Choi hadn’t liked that name, said while it fitted the student, it was not in keeping with the school’s goals.
“Dragon Warrior,” he said
I nearly dropped my helmet. “Seriously?”
“Totally,” he said, holding out his hand. “Megan is awesome,” he smiled, a little color flushing across his cheeks. “I wish I was as good as her.”
“She’s a good kid,” I said, shaking his hand.
“I’ll tell her you came by,” he said. “Sorry she’s sick. If you swing by the house, tell her that Josh was asking about her. I’m covering her five-thirty class tonight since she’s sick.”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
I found myself out in the parking lot, putting on my helmet, and starting up the bike. She used my form. And Megan was ditching. No wonder she was competing against me or worse the memory of me. I was a shadow she had to live under here. That had to totally suck.
I started the bike and cruised down toward our house. I almost turned into the court, but da’s truck was in the driveway.
Not today.
But soon. I had to face him. I know I was being a coward, but inside I was a scared kid. I hated that. I cruised out of town, making sure to keep the bike under the speed limit. Didn’t want any trouble here.
I stopped near the cutoff to Mt. Rainier and got off the bike, leaving the helmet on the seat, and walked off the breakdown lane into the chest high scrub that lined the road. Once I was through the bracken, I had a clear view of Rainier looming above me, stark and imposing. You could see the bones of the earth here, ragged mountains peaks and miles of deep green forest. I especially loved the way those colors crossed into the deep blue of the sky.
Not like Kansas when I was a kid. There the sky seemed to go on forever. It was so large, it seemed to swallow the ground whole. I used to think if I went far enough in any direction that the world would just cease to exist, like I’d walked off the edge of a painting or something.
Now with all I knew about the world, I couldn’t help but imagine loud hungry things living in those mountains. Maybe Katie was right. Maybe Tolkien’s work was more history than fiction. If it were me, I’d rather hang out with the hobbits than the goblins any day.
I stood there, letting the cool of the early evening soak into me, letting the sun fall toward dusk. There was something in the air, a smell maybe. More the memory of a smell I think. I thought back to the way Katie smelled and how much it excited me. How Jai Li smelled and how it made my belly hurt in a way I’d never expected.
Then I thought of the dragon fire, the giants and the trolls. The memory of their smells triggered different feelings. Part of me wanted to hide, to run away and crawl in a hole, but another part of me, that part that set aside the fear and did what needed doing. That part of me purred a little. Thinking about the sharp scent of blood and the acrid stench of burning tickled the lizard brain. That set the adrenaline to running and the endorphins to kick in. Then I was ready to charge forward toward the chaos, a war cry on my lips and Gram in my fist.
I walked back to the bike, my shoulders aching from the tension in them. I stretched a bit, swinging my arms in wide circles and twisting my torso from side-to-side.
I leaned against my bike and closed my eyes and thought long and hard about who I’d become.
And that woman—killer of dragons and trolls, giants and necromancers—was a child still, afraid to face her parents, afraid to go to her sister and make amends for seven years of abandonment.
That smell I was used to. That was the smell of shame and defeat.
Forty-seven
I was pulling through Kent when I decided to stop by the apartment on a whim. I wanted to grab the mail, see how things were. I parked on the street on the rare occasion that there was actually a space. Wasn’t much of one, but I could slide the bike in. The huge ass pickup that was taking one and a half space wouldn’t mind. I grabbed Gram, slung her over my shoulder in her normal and natural position, grabbed my saddlebags and helmet and headed into the building
Going into the vestibule was strange. There was a note from the super that said we had a new neighbor, and that she’d been complaining about the noise, could we stop by and check on things. He knew that Katie had been in the hospital, so he wasn’t being weird. At least I didn’t think so until I got to the top of the stairs.
The door to our apartment had a great white cross painted on it. All along the doorjamb there were burned out candles, at least a dozen. Two were actually still burning. What the fuck? I had my keys out and was going to unlock the door when I noticed someone had jammed a key in the lock and broken it off. Damn it. It would take a locksmith to get that out, or I could break the door down. And that was a heavy-duty door. We’d had them replaced last year after I kicked it in looking for Katie before I found out the dragon had kidnapped her.
I must’ve sworn out loud because some mousy gal poked her head out of the apartment across the hall and looked around. So, this was the new neighbor? We’d been neighbor free the entire time I’d known Katie.
“You new here?” I asked, leaning against the wall. I was pissed, but I was learning it’s better not to yell at strangers.
“I’ve been here a few days,” she said. She wasn’t very pretty, with lank, greasy hair and eyes that flitted everywhere but on me when she spoke. Nervous sort.
“Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Sarah.” I stepped over to her to shake her hand, but she backed up, pulling the door mostly closed and peeked out the crack.
“The super said that a girl named Katie lived there,” she said, talking louder than was normal for the situation. “I’ve called him several times. There are weird noises coming from inside.”
I looked back at the door. “Did you paint the cross?”
She gave a curt nod.
“And the candles?”
“Protection,” she said, quietly. “I can feel something inside there. It’s hungry. I can feel it through the wall in my bedroom. Like it wants to come and get me.”
Girl was smoking something righteous, that’s all I could figure. I wasn’t comfortable with that thought. I couldn’t bring Jai Li back here if the neighbor was unstable.
“Do you have a cross and all in your bedroom then?”
She grasped the cross around her neck and nodded, this time slowly. “I pray every night and every morning, but sometimes I hear a man calling, or a boy, I can’t tell.”
“A television, maybe?”
She shook her head. “No, not a television. Something evil is hunting him, something he’s hiding from.”
Well, some people thought television was evil. I wasn’t very fond of it.
“So, you’re not Katie?” she asked.
“No, I’m Sarah and I live with Katie.”
“Roommates?” the girl asked, looking at the floor.
I was getting annoyed. “Lovers, actually.”
She winced when I said that. It felt good to say it out loud.
“Yeah we can get a little loud, you know, with all the sex.” She was pissing me off. “Is that what you heard?” Of course, if it was, who was having sex here? I haven’t been here with Katie for a couple of months.
She winced again and shuddered. “Abomination,” she said, quietly this time, not talking to me or anyone else. I knew the words, knew the look. Here was one of those people from my prior life. It had been a while since I’d encountered it. It took me by surprise.
She shut the door and locked it. I heard her throw a dead bolt and put on the chain. Anger and shame rushed up through my abdomen, but I tamped them both down. Now was not the time. The runes on my calf flared to life, and the ones on my scalp remained cold and dormant. I tried to breathe through it, but I kept seeing those people from my past, my da, the churchie people, and all the rest of the close-minded idiots.
I punched the wall.
Felt good, damn it. I still had on my riding gloves, so I didn’t scrape up my knuckles when I went through the cheap paneling. Fortunately there was only about four inches of space before I encountered cinder block, and I was up to my wrist in splinters. I let out my breath and carefully pushed the splinters aside, widening the hole, so I could pull my hand out of the wall. That was awkward, but worked to let the final juice run out of me, leaving me frustrated and a little hurt. Lucky I didn’t break my wrist, or at least a few knuckles.
I went down the stairs and out the door, fuming. Elmer’s Gun and Knife Emporium was still open, and there were a couple of high school age kids inside looking at swords.
I went inside and walked up to the counter. Elmer was an old guy, older than da even—late fifties. He looked like someone’s grandpa: nice as could be, clean shaven, short hair, soft eyes. No one would peg him as a merchant of death. He preferred purveyor of home protection. I guess it depended on your politics. He kept spare keys and such to the apartments above, worked a deal with the super. I didn’t need a key, though. I needed a locksmith, or a crowbar.
“Hey, Elmer,” I called as I crossed the store. He looked over at me and smiled.
“Afternoon, Sarah.” Elmer liked me. He sold a few knives for me on consignment. Pretty pricey stuff for him, after the markup and all, but he had some high-end clientele. Knew the value of a good blade. “What’s up?”
“Crazy neighbor upstairs has painted a cross on our door, burned a couple dozen candles to the stubs all along the floor and wedged a key in the lock.”
“Huh,” he said, stepping back in front of the high schoolers who were debating on pulling a samurai sword from its sheath. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, placing his hand on the wooden and lacquered scabbard. That was a handmade dealio. I’d had a look at it once at Elmer’s insistence. Good folded steel, not anything like I did. Not my style of blade. Nice, though.
The kids shuffled away, more interested in fantasizing about sword battles than ponying up the twelve hundred dollars for that blade.
Once the testosterone machines had gone outside, Elmer put the sword back in the case and nodded his head in my direction. “You driving that fancy motor bike out yonder?”
I glanced out his windows and looked at the Ducati. “Oh, yeah. Sweet ride.”
“She’s a damned fine machine,” he said, smiling.
“You heard anything funny?” I asked. “Upstairs, I mean.”
“Beside miss crazy neighbor, you mean?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She claims to hear things from inside the apartment.”
“One of you girls leave a television on or something?”
My last trip I’d rushed out pretty damned fast, after Megan’s call. But did I have the television on? Maybe the radio? “Probably it,” I said to him. “I’ll call a locksmith and get things under control.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” he said as I headed to the door. “Oh, I could use a couple more of those Elvish short swords you make. Had a run on them lately. Sold the last three I had.”
Nice, that would be some nice scratch rolling in. “I’ll get some out to you next week.” I promised. “We can settle up on money then, okay?”
He waved, and I pushed back out into the great outdoors, fishing my cell phone out of my jacket.
Television made more sense than crazy neighbor hearing voices in our place. Of course, there was the possibility that she’d heard Gletts. He’d called to me through the mirror once upon a time, and I hadn’t seen him since Julie pulled me out of the Sideways. And the wall between our bedroom and the mirror opposite the room in the neighbor’s place had an old doorway to the Sideways. I’d almost been sucked in once. Maybe that’s what she was sensing.
Oh, crap. The book and the shield were both in the apartment. Would they be part of the problem? I jogged up the stairs to the hallway between our apartments and pulled Gram from her sheath holding her in front of the apartment door.
The sword jerked forward, nearly striking the door. I pulled it back at the last second, stopping the blade from smashing into the metal plate.
Maybe I should get some professional help. Of course, Qindra was probably tired of me calling her all the time. Last time a book had almost killed her. The time before that she’d gotten locked inside the house out in Chumstick battling ghosties. But she was the resident expert on weird shit. I was obligated to call her. Right?
She answered on the first ring with a sigh in her voice. “You never call for pleasure. What can I help you with this time?”
I filled her in on the weirdness.
“You want me to come out and open the apartment?” she asked.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” I said. “Wouldn’t you rather be on the scene for once when I was going to start something?”
Qindra sighed heavily. “You are a piece of work, Sarah Beauhall.”
I knew I had her.
“I take the shield with me when I leave,” she said, exasperated. “And anything else dangerous we find.”
Yikes, didn’t see that coming. But still, would be good to know what the hell that shield was capable of. “Yeah, okay. Whatever makes sense. Could you hurry?”
“Sarah, you are definitely a magnet for the strange and dangerous. Hang loose, I’ll be right over.”
Now all I had to do was wait. I walked across the street to Frank’s place, a dive watering hole Katie and I drank at sometimes. Mainly served neighborhood regulars. Frank hadn’t worked there in years. His son, Bobby Joe, ran the place and he watered down the drinks for most folks. Not me or Katie, though. I think the old dude had a crush on Katie. It was early, so I got a rum and coke, sat at the bar with a view outside and waited.
Katie was going to be pissed if something bad had gone down in our apartment. You know, something else. Crap …
Forty-eight
Qindra showed up thirty minutes later. I think she had one of those clicky things the fire department used to switch lights all red except for her. She denied it, but there was no way anyone else got through Seattle traffic that efficiently. Unless, maybe her Miata has been enchanted or something. That would be great for the Ducati. Maybe I’d broach the subject for my birthday or something.
She climbed out of her Miata, leaving it parked in front of Elmer’s behind my bike. The pickup truck was long gone.
“Shall we?” Qindra asked as I joined her at the curb.
“Neighbor is still home,” I warned as we crossed the street. “Real jumpy sort.”
&
nbsp; “Don’t worry about her,” she assured me. “I’ll give her some peace.”
We went up the stairs and looked around. The place looked just like I’d left it, only the candles in front of our door had burned out.
“Early American Séance?” she asked with a wry grin.
“Whatever. Crazy religious person is the best I got.”
Qindra knocked on the neighbor’s door, but no one answered. She pulled out her wand, cast a few squiggles in the air and shrugged. “She’s inside, scared, but unharmed.”
“Can you show me how to do that?” I asked.
“No.”
That was blunt. At least she was smiling when she said it.
She walked back toward our door, stopped at the hole in the wall, and looked back at me. “Your work?”
“Oh, yeah,” I admitted.
She just shook her head at me and went to our door. More squiggles glowed in the air as she examined things. “Nothing magical here,” she said with a shrug. She tapped the lock and the broken key leapt out and clattered to the floor. She tapped the lock a second time and the door swung open.
Now, I am by no means a good housekeeper. I kill houseplants, goldfish, and anything else that can’t fend for itself due to absent mindedness and neglect. I do not pick up my underwear nor my socks. I have been known to leave a gallon of milk on the counter for a week or more and never, ever do I dust or do windows.
All that crossed my mind as the door swung open.
Everything we had in the apartment was gone. I had a moment of panic thinking about the book and shield I had stashed in the bedroom. What the hell had happened?
It’s not that the apartment was empty. There was just nothing mundane there. The walls had shiny white spaces where Katie’s pictures had once hung. The floors were completely bare, cabinets were devoid of contents and even doors. But more than that, everything glowed like phosphorescent white porcelain. It was creepy. Starting just inside the doorway crystal formations covered every flat surface, oozing out of the gaping cabinets, pooling into stalagmites all around the kitchen and along the bar. Great webs of crystals covered the windows and hung down from the corners of the room.