by Melissa Marr
I walked over to the hot spring and dropped my robe.
The smiling spa guide said, “When your shoes fully melt, you are allowed to exit.”
“Allowed?” I echoed.
She just nodded, even as I gave her a questioning look. Paper shoes in near-boiling water? They’d melt as soon as I entered the pool. But whatever. There was a hot spring, and flaky spa staff or not, the feeling of sinking into that hot water was like dropping into peace.
Within moments my muscles relaxed, and I sighed.
For the first time since we left the resort lobby, I felt truly relaxed. The extra-hot, bubbling water seemed to sluice in and out around me like waves. Giant rocks rimmed the pool like strange seats. And whatever that scent was, it was calming. Not too sweet. Not too anything. It was like inhaling peace.
I stayed like that, submerged up to my shoulders and feeling calm enough to nap, right up to the moment that my head slipped under water and hit a rock hard. The shock and pain of it jolted me upright and out of the stone tub.
Why was I here? Why was I relaxing so much? Something was definitely wrong. Whatever peace I’d felt quickly vanished.
Naked as the day I was born, shoeless and dripping wet, I walked out of the hot springs room and to the front desk. As I did, I saw an older suit-clad man dart away.
No. Not dart. I saw a man flow. Only one creature did that.
Draugr. There was a draugr here.
My peace was all sorts of gone.
Misty the spa guide stepped up to me in a flurry. “Are you unwell? Would you like a soothing glass of cucumber water?”
“Who was that?” I asked, nodding toward the doorway where the man had vanished.
“There was no one here.” Misty frowned, giving me a baffled look that seemed genuine. Had she not seen him?
“Dead guy in a suit,” I clarified. “Draugr. Right here, plain as murder.”
“No. There are no draugr in San Diego.” Misty shook her head. “How could there be? We check everyone at the gates.”
“I saw him.”
“No.” She glared at me and repeated, “There are no draugr in San Diego.”
I couldn’t tell if she was afraid or angry. Either way, she obviously wasn’t a fan of questions.
I looked around, cursing my continued lack of necromancy. I wanted my magic back. All of it. It shouldn’t still be an empty reserve inside me. Weeks of this had worn on me—enough that I was apparently on a hell-vacation.
“There was a draugr here. Just now,” I said calmly. “You were just talking to him.”
“Draugr don’t live in San Diego.” This time, Misty laughed like I’d told a joke, but then she said, “Were you in the spring too long, ma’am? Oh no! Let’s get you hydrated, mmm?”
She tried to reach out to check my temperature, like a mother putting a wrist to a child’s fevered forehead.
I swatted her away. “Stop that.”
“You must have been faint. Drink this!” She poured a tall glass of that now-tepid water.
“You drink it.” I stepped back.
And she did. She blinked. Then she lifted the glass and drained the whole thing. Then she re-filled it and held it out.
“Cucumber mint water?” She gave me another beatific smile. “Or I have celery if you’re hungry.”
“Hop.”
Still holding the glass of tepid water, Misty started hopping. “Drink the water, ma’am. It’ll clear your mind of all troubles.”
“Sauna,” I managed to say.
Misty scrunched up her face like I’d confused her, and then she started hopping toward the sauna.
“Stop hopping,” I whispered.
“I thought . . . weren’t you going to the pool?” Misty blinked at me several times before whispering, “You’re all wet, you know?”
I bit back my frustrated yell and said, “Misty, I am looking for the sauna. “Walk me to the sauna.”
“Oh. Are you scheduled for it?”
I paused. I hoped she was drugged, not naturally this daft. I smiled as calmly as I could. “Why yes, I am scheduled for it. I was late. Swimming, you know.”
A flicker of terror went over her, and her mouth opened wide like she was going to scream, but then she blinked. The fear and pending scream vanished. The words looked like they were a struggle to get out, but she managed to say, “Stay away from the beach. They’ll get you.”
There was something wrong here—beyond the celery and carrots and weird-assed shoes.
Just then, Allie burst through the door, purse bulging, a trash bag over her shoulder, and bloody hands gripping what looked like a broom handle. Her feet were bloody, and all she said was, “Boss! Weapon.”
She tossed me her back-up gun, a tiny .22 that was perfect for concealing in your cleavage, but not exactly high-powered.
“News?” I gripped the gun, just as Allie swung the broom at Misty, who dropped the syringe she’d had concealed in her hand.
“I’ll take that.” Allie scooped up the syringe, wrapped it in a couple pairs of the tissue paper shoes, and stuffed it all into what looked like an empty blood bag.
She met my gaze and announced, “Draugr. Witches. I don’t even know, but talking to the staff was like talking to a bunch of drunk bunnies!”
I nodded; not-interrupting was often best with Alice.
“They locked me in a supply cabinet. Can you believe that? As if that would cage me! I whacked my head hard when they shoved me in there. But that meant I was clear-headed long enough to grab some stuff before escaping.”
“Are you—"
“I figure I bought the resort already, so I’m not actually stealing!” Alice tapped her broom handle on the floor like she was some old, wizard with a staff. “Let’s get the others.”
“Right.” I sort of blinked, realizing that I was still a little woozy from the hot spring. “Get them. Go outside to get fresh air.”
We walked through the spa center, guns and broom handle at the ready. No one was there. Anywhere. The first few treatment rooms were empty. As we walked further, we discovered that a few rooms had people--comatose people--stretched out on the massage tables. They all seemed alive, but more than a few had been there long enough that their muscles were significantly atrophied.
“They won’t wake,” Allie said. “I tried to wake one I saw beside the pool on a lounger.”
“What in the name of duck gizzards is going on here?” I muttered.
Allie shook her head. “We need to get out of here, and . . . I’ll need a well-armed cleaning crew for this place. First, though, it’s rescue-and-run time.”
After several more minutes, we found Sera and Christy, giggling uproariously in the vanilla and fruit-scented sauna.
“Gen!” Sera yelled cheerily.
We tugged them out of the sauna, but they were giggling like they had been smoking all the drugs at the same time.
“Why are you taking out trash?” Christy pointed at Allie’s bag. “Are there chores?”
“Pain helps shock you out but . . . I cannot hit them,” Allie motioned at them.
“Bee!” I yelled. “Get it, Sera! On Christy’s cheek.”
Sera slapped Christy’s face, and Christy shoved Sera backwards. Sera kicked Christy, taking her legs out. I let one friend smash into the wall, and the other crumble to the ground. I felt a flicker of guilt.
Then Sera blinked. “What . . . where? Huh?”
“Why are we naked?” Christy asked, wrapping a towel more firmly around her.
“Draugr. Possibly magic. Drugs in the steam, I think . . .” I ticked it off. “The flowery, fruity scent.”
Sera grabbed robes and handed one to Christy—and then she started going through cupboards until she found one for me. “Clothes, Gen.”
I grinned. Right. Fighting while naked could get super awkward.
Allie had opened the trash bag, although her gun was still in reach if she needed it. She pulled out several cans of aerosol cleaner. “Here. Aim for the eyes.”
She pulled out several glass jars, each filled with a yellow liquid, thumb tacks, nails, and a floating candle. The candles’ wicks were sticking out of holes at the top and black electrical tape covered them. “Pull off the tape, light, toss, and boom.”
Christy shook her head. “You and me need to have a long chat, Tennessee.”
Allie beamed. “Nicknames imply friendship.”
“Give me the bombs, Tennessee. I played softball.” Christy held out a hand, and Allie, smiling widely, gave her the three improvised bombs.
“I’d feel a whole lot better with my swords,” I admitted.
Allie looked at me. “I can’t give you my favorite gun, but you can have my staff.”
Now someone who had no martial arts training might not realize that a broom stick—a staff—was a worthy weapon, but a staff was able to execute all the primary blows a sword was. The difference was that the sword would slice flesh, and a staff would pummel the bones and organs.
I twirled my new weapon. Up close, a staff was just as good as a sword. And at a distance, we had improvised bombs, two guns, and homemade fire balls.
“Shall we go get our clothes, and get up out of this place?” Sera asked.
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.
“But, you know, try not to set it all on fire,” Allie said. “I did buy it.”
“Come on, Tennessee. Let’s test your bombs.” Christy grinned at Allie.
And while it wasn’t exactly a weekend that matched our plans, I felt good seeing them get along. It was a Girls’ Weekend . . . but our way.
Chapter Eight
We walked out to the lobby, watching for lurking draugr, human staff, or witches. Honestly, I had no idea what all sorts of trouble we had to face, and the one certainty was that the air was toxic.
The groggy-but-upright Misty looked horrified to see us—and I was fairly sure it wasn’t just the fact that Allie was bloody. She stared at us like she was trying to speak and couldn’t. I didn’t know if she was drugged or enthralled to the draugr I’d seen or maybe just blackmailed. Either way, she stared at us and twisted her hands together.
“Windows,” Sera muttered. She was swaying like she’d been on a bourbon tasting marathon.
I stepped around the hand-wringing spa guide and started shattering windows. The staff gave me reach, and there was something satisfying about bashing them. Glass tinkled down around me like a localized ice storm.
“Wait!” Misty suddenly grabbed at me, trying to grab the staff that I was currently using as a baseball bat, and in the process hanging onto me like an angry koala. “The air is deadly!”
Allie stepped back as Christy detached the worried woman from my back and arms. Misty was struggling, though. She was convinced that the air outside was deadly, and in her attempts to rescue us, she kept trying to cover our mouths and noses as if to save us.
“Hit . . . her,” Sera suggested between clearing breaths of fresh air. “Seriously. . . some . . . one . . . just hit her.”
Christy was trying to hold the woman while avoiding getting clawed in the face, and Sera was struggling to speak. That left me or Allie.
Before I could figure out how to safely hit Misty, who was clearly drugged, Allie—still holding her gun--punched Misty in the temple.
Misty dropped like dead weight.
We dragged the now-unconscious Misty with us as we went outside. Her legs were being scratched all to hell by plants and rocks as she was half-dragged half-carried across the ground.
An alarm sounded and a series of sprinkler heads shot out of the ground. The misters that were strung through the trees and the sprinklers all started spewing a pinkish mist.
“Cover your mouth!” Sera gasped, putting her robe-covered arm over her mouth and nose.
“Bombs,” Allie gasped. “Blow it all up!”
Christy shoved the unconscious spa guide toward Allie, who more or less caught Misty. Within moments, Christy started lighting and launching bomb after bomb as we ran through the garden. Small fires started and flashed to life, burning away the scent of sugary toxic air.
But too soon, the misters were switched to full-on geysers. Pink water fountained upward, putting out fires and creating a tinted floral fog that seemed to linger over everything. Allie’s homemade IEDs were overkill on sprinkler heads, and someone was watching closely enough to turn mist into fountains.
I would have loved to take down whatever security system our unseen assailants had, but for now we had no targets other than mist, and that was impossible to counter without a few industrial fans.
We ran toward the casita, slower since Sera was dragging Misty along with us. Christy still tossed the occasional bomb, and I played whack-a-mole with sprinkler heads. Everyone tried to avoid the hot, steaming pink water that spurted up at odd intervals.
“Don’t stop running!” Sera ordered. “Almost there. Any corpse armies, Gen?”
“No!” I tried, but I wasn’t able to summon anything large. Plus, short of dead crustaceans, I wasn’t finding any corpses within range. I felt the edges of my magic flickering like the energy wanted to surface, but that wasn’t terribly useful without corpses. Right now, my best options were assorted crustaceans, a few fish, and some jellyfish. Typically, I could summon both human and animal corpses, create an undead fighting force to attack enemies or defend me. Being magically depleted meant that I had no juice to summon much of anything, but even I did . . . well, let’s just say that dead fish and invertebrates weren’t as helpful as wolves, coyotes, or even the occasional yappy dog.
I had no army to bring to our aid.
We were all stumbling, and when we reached the casita we found several angry spa employees waiting, I wanted to cry. Beyond them were our weapons, keys, and clothes.
Christy tossed two bombs in short order, and as the smoke and fire overpowered the mist, I surged forward with my staff, bashing and shoving them with all my remaining energy.
As they fell, we stumbled into the casita. I watched as my friends stepped over the fallen spa employees. Then I followed, slamming the door as if it would protect us.
“Sewer weasels. . . ” I leaned my whole body up against the door. There was no steam here, but the sugared scent was so strong that I wasn’t sure if it was in the casita or if it was all over us.
“We need to get out of here.” Christy watched the door. “If this place is really run by draugr . . . we have until nightfall.”
“Weapon check?” I pulled the magic away from our belongings.
“We can’t shoot our way through steam, boss.” Allie pulled her sopping wet hair into a messy bun. “I can make more Molotov cocktail bombs, but . . . it’s not enough.”
“So how do we get to the rental car?” Sera was tossing clothes at all of us.
She paused to grimace at our thrashed feet. We weren’t exactly used to barefoot living. As a child in the Outs, I had soles as tough as leather, but these days, I lived in the city.
“Beach?” I suggested.
The spa guide blinked up at us. “I was sea kayaking when they caught me.”
“What?” Sera asked.
“Tossed a net over me, drugged me, and . . .” Misty touched her temple, wincing. “Thank you for clearing my head.”
“So not by sea.” Sera paced as Christy watched the door.
“The walked right out of the ocean, set up camp, captured us and drained us.” Misty shuddered. “Then they set up here and victims just check in. No one ever leaves.”
“You need a juice, boss.” Allie looked over the woman we’d rescued, and I knew what she was saying.
I couldn’t, though. Not her. Not here in front of someone who’d been so victimized by draugr. The poor thing had been captured, brainwashed, and undoubtedly used as a walking juice box already.
“What
we need,” Christy pronounced, “is a way out. I don’t think we can reach the lobby, get to the car, and not get drugged up. Maybe Gen can, but not all of us.”
I turned my back to Misty and whispered, “I can flow with one of you, then come back and—”
“Or you could rip a hole in the air and take us to Elphame,” Christy suggested. “Doorway, Gen. We need a door out of here.”
“There are a lot of rules,” I hedged. “Mortals brought there are required to stay unless they are cleared prior to arrival.”
I tried not to look at the stranger in the room. The reality was that if I took her over there, she was staying. No negotiation would change certain laws, not with the fae.
Sera and Christy were pre-cleared because they were in my wedding party. Allie wasn’t, not yet.
“Allie . . .” I met her gaze. “You don’t currently have clearance.”
My fiery assistant gave me a look that could undoubtedly quell small nations. “Darlin, I’m not a person. I’m a lunchbox. Call me the red platelet special, but that man—any man—isn’t going to keep me from my vow to you. He might be the fae king, but I go where you go, when you go, if you need. I’m like a part of you.”
Sera snorted, gathering our bags up and shoving one toward Alice. The thought of Allie facing off against the king of the fae made me wince, but I couldn’t image leaving her. Marcus would be reasonable. He had to be.
Misty flinched as something broke a skylight.
A cannister of pink smoke clattered from the ceiling.
“Prisoner here or prisoner there,” Misty muttered. “Which is worse?”
“Here.” I reached out into the air with one hand, pulling on the part of my energy that I thought of as an extension of Eli and seeking a grip. I didn’t want to open my mouth and inhale that toxic fruit and flower scent again, but I did yell, “Bags.”
Then I found what I was seeking My hands parted the air as if it had become a heavy curtain that I could grab. I wondered briefly if it was easier to tap this magic because my life had always been magical. Being a witch-draugr meant I’d always had magic. This particular bit was because all fae could open a doorway home, though. Now that I’d married Eli, I was included in that tradition.