by Jasmine Walt
There's a strange chatter in my mind, as though I'm listening to a game of Marco Polo through earplugs. Snatches of sentences tossed back and forth between voices. It's nauseating and jarring, and I can't make out their meaning. Maybe it's Telephone, not Marco Polo.
I open my eyes as it sinks in what the voices sound like. They sound like the strange half-people who attacked us with that first Reaper. The disjointed cadence, the sense that somehow they were all thinking and saying the same thing, even if it took all of them to get it out in pieces…
One of them's coming.
My heart racing, I sketch the sigil in the air that'll ensure my wards are armed—and let Eren know I've done so.
There's a ward outside, a line of herbs that Eren helped me spread around the hotel property. It's my first line of defense. It's tied to a sigil for pain, designed to target parasitic beings. The bigger I draw the sigil, the more powerful it will be. I fix the pattern to the back of my eyelids and start pacing, trying to remember the precise number of steps needed for peak efficacy.
With my heartrate elevated and my body humming with nerves, I can't fix the rhythm of the steps into my head properly. But my music's on in the background since I was relaxing—at least I have that to focus on instead.
It doesn't matter what my hands are doing. So I sketch a sigil for strength and serenity and continue my steps.
Muscles in my neck loosen, and I straighten my shoulders. For the first time, I'm breathing deeply. I raise my chin and focus solely on my feet.
It feels better if I point my toes. I can see the lines of my body scorched on the back of my eyelids. It makes it easier if I imagine it as some kind of a dance. Even if it probably looks stupid as all hell.
Something shrieks—no, several somethings. Surely someone must have heard the intruders. I whisper the syllables to activate the window points Eren helped me set so I can see what's going on.
The air outside my door seems to be as thick as honey; several creatures are trapped in it, shrilling in pain. They look the same as last time but different, as though they were crafted from the memory of a particular human described by several different people. They look like they were created from the work of an amateur caricaturist dreaming of being a police sketch artist. It would almost be comical, if it wasn't for how many of the inaccuracies seem to veer into the realm of the threatening: slitted eyes, sharpened teeth, fingers that are more claw than digit. Just imagining those monstrosities reaching for me…
No. If my concentration breaks, so do the wards. I mouth the words to the music and keep up my breathless dance. So long as I keep moving, I can hold them there. But what happens if this stretches long enough for me to falter?
Eren said that the only tried-and-true way to chase an incubus or reaper out of its host when it chooses not to leave is to burn it severely enough with holy water that it flees. But I don't have holy water; he said the making was extremely complex, and it would take him time to acquire the ingredients.
So I'm stuck. Unless there's something he was missing; he freely admitted that Reza was a stronger enchanter than him because he'd slacked off in his studies. But if even he doesn't know that trick, how am I supposed to? I'm a beginner who's read a few rudimentary texts. The guys might think I have the power, but there's no way I'm ready for this.
Reza was right. I should have stayed with him. The thought's bitter, bringing bile to my throat.
No. I've never been anyone's stupid damsel in distress. Even when I've played the part, I've played it for my own purposes.
I wasn't a helpless daisy then, and I'm not a helpless daisy now.
If I can just ramp the pain up until it mimics the effect of holy water…
Mentally, I chart my course. If I want to enlarge the sigil that much, I'll have to walk in the hall. And climb down a gutter or something to get to the ground floor to finish it. There's not physically enough space in here. If I was better trained, maybe I'd know some supplemental runes or shit to amplify it—at least I'd guess there's more I could do if I wasn't a raw fucking newbie.
I have to try it. Obviously, climbing or risking dropping or breaking the sigil—that's a no-go. But if the spell takes even a few seconds to break down, I can run past the creatures outside and throw myself into the parking lot to dance on the broad canvas. So long as there aren't cars in my way, I'll have ample space to manipulate.
It's the best plan I have. And with a little luck, Eren or Reza will be on their way to help soon enough. I just have to make it too big of a pain in the ass for these hunters to continue attacking me until the cavalry comes.
I slow my steps, gathering my breath to make a break for it. “One…two…three…” I mumble and then run for the door as though my life depended on it. I lose a second fucking with the dead bolt, and my heart hammers in my ears. I don't have enough space now to sketch the sigil out and try again.
The carpet's grody and rough under my bare feet, but I don't dare grab my shoes. In the hall, the frozen creatures are slowly returning to normal. As I weave through their ranks, taloned hands reach toward me and glowing eyes follow me. I duck through the flurry of limbs, doing my best not to lose any forward momentum.
There's more of them in the stairwell, and these ones are much more spry. A stream of something liquid shoots toward me, and I dodge as best I can. It smacks into the drywall, and there's an awful sizzle and a burned stench. The drywall's disintegrating before my very eyes. That could be my flesh.
Shit. I should've stayed put, walked the sigil until my feet were bloody and raw and my eyes were heavy from exhaustion. I lost my temper and got cocky. And I'm probably gonna die for it.
My side twinges, a stitch making itself known. I must have been hyperventilating more than I realized in my room; running this distance should not be winding me that way. Still, I refuse to let myself clutch my ribs. I can't get distracted.
I throw myself into the bar for the fire escape door, and it opens, an alarm shrieking nastily behind me. But I'm in the open air by the parking lot.
Feeling like somewhat of a madwoman, I throw myself back into the pattern, running through the initial shape and only slowing down once I've felt its effects in the air around me. It takes form under my feet, and this time, it's different. I can see the ground glowing beneath me, the light exposing all the dust motes in the air. And with every repetition, that glow grows brighter and nastier, making my bones jitter and my muscles spasm. Still, if I fall, I'm dead. I stagger through the motions, relying on the gold light to show me my path as I lurch along.
Red hot pain sears my foot; there's a piece of broken glass that I'm no longer coordinated enough to avoid. I can only pray it hasn't gone in too deep.
My heart hardens, only the demand to live present. No longer any worries about the other bystanders in the hotel streaming out and screaming, seeing the burned-out stairwell. They're fodder even now for the creatures converging on me. I stare hard at the ground, refusing to see whether the crowd's cries are simply confusion and fear, or whether the demons are hurting them. I might faint if I raise my eyes to discover a massacre.
As I make my rounds, my bloody footprints become more obvious; I've avoided the glass since then, but it must have hit something nasty. The pain makes it difficult to keep weight on that foot. It seems like I'm grinding it in deeper and worsening the bleeding.
Someone yells my name, and I glance up, startled. Abel is there, eyes flashing black as sin, along with a woman I don't recognize who's plainly dead—a reaper then? A second later, the undead woman collapses and Abel vanishes…as do the monsters.
I shiver, not quite believing that it's finally safe to stop walking. The air still hums with electricity and charge, and somehow, that, too, feeds into me, like a shot of adrenaline.
Strong arms catch me, holding me in place. I have to assume it's Reza—I doubt Eren would be so free touching me. Whichever twin it is, he wraps me in his arms, and I bury my face in his chest, the last of my energy leaving me
.
36
Reza
Alisa's trembling in my arms, obviously well into shock and exhaustion. I felt the power of her spell from miles away. I had no idea she had it in her without the privilege I'd given her in the Well.
Ever since Eren's alarm went off and I rushed to cross worlds and make my way to her, my whole body's been all but shaking with the need to hunt, to kill, to protect.
Abel and Imogene have whatever attacked her well in hand. But that was their job for so long. I'm grateful they came to help, not the least because Alisa looks like she needs a hug and a hefty rare steak to put the spark back into her.
I'm so fucking proud of her, proud of her resolve and her resourcefulness. Walking the sigil out here was daring but brilliant. Her hunters were barely clinging to their bodies. Had she kept it up another twenty minutes, they'd have been gone. And their struggle with her probably kept the creatures from trying to kill people to lure her out. Imogene and Abel apparently have met these creatures before. I was just trying to study the literature in the Well when I saw the alarm. They seem to be related to the incubi, though she's not sure how.
People are staring, having seen the strange monsters, and having seen people disappear. And Alisa out here, half dressed, pacing a glowing, strange symbol into the ground…it's not exactly the fairy tales of their childhood. We should get out of sight. But we can't go back inside, not until the fire department's cleared the building.
I should tell her. I should put into words the whooping, wordless cry of joy that I nearly let out, seeing her alive with all of the creatures in her control. I should tell her how the pride sings in me, that I couldn't be more proud if she was family or had truly been my student.
I release her and open my mouth, struggling to find a starting point.
And Eren lopes up and wraps his arms around her from behind, plainly thrilled to see her safe, too.
She yelps, her fingers automatically twisting to sketch a sigil so strong that Eren flies back about fifteen feet. But I know the sigil she used—it's a beginner's variant. It shouldn't have done much more than force him back out of arm's reach. Why was it so strong?
“Oh my God,” she says when she turns around. She limps over to him surprisingly quickly to help him up. Her eyes are already glassy with unshed tears. “You scared me. I just—”
“Don't apologize, kiddo,” he says. “You did good. That was a solid spell. And your instincts were good. I should've warned you.” Despite the kind words, he winces. He seems to be in far more pain than the casting should warrant. How powerful was it?
“Gene and Abel got the bastards,” I tell him. “We should be okay here now.”
“She held them back on her own? Outside the protections I left?”
“Yeah.”
Alisa doesn't seem interested in our conversation. The tremors are worse than ever, and she's well on her way toward crying, letting the tears fall. I clench my hands into fists to restrain myself from offering her my chest to cry into. “I can't fucking do this.”
“What's wrong? You did fine. And it's over now—”
“I can't fucking do this,” she sobs. “I'm a loaded weapon. I wish I'd never learned how to do this shit.” Her arms are crossed, her fingers tracing shapes idly on her arms. Only, those shapes are glowing, gathering a power I'd never imagined she could wield. And she doesn't realize it. I blink, demanding dragon's eyes for myself to see the magic that's feeding her.
It's coming from me. Well, the Mantel. She's somehow using my power. She should not be able to do that, even intentionally. My gut knots, my mind seeking out the little telltale signs I should have picked up on from my own trembling hands to the faintly charged taste in the air when I exhale.
“How're you doing that?” I ask her. Maybe Eren taught her some trick he never told me about.
“Doing what?” she asks with a horrified look. “I just want to be normal.”
“You're siphoning power away from me. Without my permission.”
She pales and lets out a choked gasp. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I see it, too,” Eren says, his own eyes now slitted and transformed.
“You shouldn't be able to do that. You don't have the bones—the implants. You don't have my permission. How can you—”
Eren cuts me off with a look that plainly says “are you fucking stupid?” The look falls away when I glare back, hard.
“I'm not doing anything, Reza! I can't do this—I can't do this—”
She's hyperventilating, deep in denial. I'll have to tread carefully.
I reach for her, to gather her into my arms, but she pulls away, hobbling toward the chaotic building with a pained wince every time her weight goes on her left foot.
Eren puts an arm out to stop me from following her.
Shit.
37
Alisa
It's all too much. Knowing I'm a witch, and seeing what that means are completely different things. I'm bleeding my friends dry, if what Reza said is true. And I hurt Eren. I don't want to fucking touch this power. I don't want to be around it. I don't even want to know it exists, but that cat's out of the damn bag.
When he told me of my heritage, I thought it was a “maybe it's luck”, or “maybe you moved the needle” kind of thing. Even when I cast that first ward in the Well, he thought it was only powerful because I'd tapped into his strength.
I didn't figure I'd be a terror, harming friends and bystanders alike. They're making me into a monster. And I won't let that happen.
“Are you okay?” Reza asks and reaches for me.
I jerk my arm away from his hand. “Get away from me.”
His eyes widen with hurt and that limpid look that an animal gets when it's begging for your food. “What's wrong?”
Either they're making me into a monster, or they're lying. He could as easily have cast the spell. He could just be saying the strength is mine to encourage me to go along with his will. He could be manipulating me, as he has this whole time.
“Alisa—” Eren starts, but I cut him off. He's complicit in this, too.
“Get away. Leave me alone. I'm not a part of your world. I want nothing to do with you, or this—this—this curse.” I fumble, grasping for the right word.
“Please, Lis, just talk to—” Reza pleads, but I know better than to trust those puppy-dog eyes.
“Get away,” I scream, and one of the women who evacuated her hotel room steps between us. She wraps an arm around me, and though I should pull away—lest I drag her into this the way Reza did me—I can't.
She straightens, her arm around me. “Is everything okay?”
“Of course. We're—”
She cuts Reza off. “It looks to me like the lady's done talking to you. Do you want me to call the cops, hon?”
It's so easy to take comfort in her commanding voice. At least she knows how to handle fucked up shit.
“Don't worry about it,” Eren says, giving Reza an irritable look. “We were just leaving, now that we know she's okay.”
He hauls Reza away.
Reza glances over his shoulder as they walk back to their car. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to confront the pain in his face.
38
Reza
I can hardly contain my rage on the drive back to the gate. We endangered ourselves for her, and she looked at us—at me—like we were spoiled food. Maybe it was just the sweeping emotions from such an intense casting, but that doesn't make the frustration any easier to bear.
Eren's barely driven a block when he opens his goddamn mouth to talk. He should know, better than anyone why that's a bad idea. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“What?”
“Still playing dumb. So again I ask, are you fucking stupid?”
“Are you having fun being the know-it-all for a change, or are you gonna just say whatever's rattling around between your ears?”
Eren sighs, huffily. “You know why your power went to her. You'
re in love with her. Whether or not you say the words, the rest of you knows it. Your body, your spirit, it's already given her permission to use your power without any say from your mind. You two have bonded. If you'd pull your head out of your ass, maybe you'd even be able to claim her as your mate, since it's obvious she's the one.”
“Oh, come on. You know that one fated soulmate stuff is superstitious bullshit.”
“Tell that to your stolen power. I'm not sure why you've dug your heels in on this. You clearly care about her enough that you're making superstitious bullshit magic happen. But that's not the scary thing. The scary thing is that you're so bullheaded, you're ignoring it completely. Putting it on that poor woman that it's just that she's wrong and breaking rules and fucking things up. That she's somehow uncontrollable, or that her powers are strange. And you wonder why she flipped out.”
Eren stops talking, and rather than press him, I actually consider what he said. We were both raised on the same stories. Raised to believe in the same love-at-first-sight force that could transcend individuals' powers to create something beautiful, unique, and thoroughly blended, even without the awareness of the powers' owners.
The idea seems invasive. But I'm not the only one violated by it.
I should be happy. I should be thrilled to have an explanation. Instead, I'm awash in guilt. Alisa's made her opinions known; no doubt whatever bond we have will wither away, and she'll be gifted only with her own powers in time. If it is what Eren says, and I'm subconsciously giving that piece of myself to her.
It's a problem far above my pay grade. She can take care of herself—that's the relevant point. And maybe she is better off without me around throwing a wrench into her ideas about how her life should go.
Damn. I'm gonna miss her.