Runaway Witch

by N. D. MacLaine

  Chris looked at me, discomfort still evident in his eyes.

  “It's okay,” I said. “He's alive, he's safe, and we didn't cause any permanent injuries. Stephen's right. We did well.”

  Chris smiled. “I know, but it still feels kinda wonky. Sometimes I wonder about some of the things we do. If it's really all for the best.”

  I reached out and squeezed his hand–the only sign of affection I would allow myself in the house. “It is,” I said. “I'm sure of it.”

  Chris nodded slowly. Then he said, “Netflix and chill?”

  I laughed, and we headed to the theater room to do some binge-watching.

  FOURTEEN

  Evan directed me to themuseum, which was, as he'd said, located right off of I-70, about five minutes outside of Chandler proper. It was a large, multifloor building, and it did indeed have a beautiful new stone facade.

  The sky had grown overcast, which made it feel later than it was and added to the ominous mood. Marcus Locke's car was parked in front of the building, and he was standing beside it. Eva was next to him. He was holding her by the arm.

  “Let me do the talking,” I said as we got out of the car. Evan grunted an incomprehensible reply.

  “Eva, are you okay?” I asked before anything else. She nodded but the terror was evident in her eyes.

  “And she'll be fine as long as you get me what I want,” Locke said. “And before you think of trying anything funny, know this–I may not be on your level, but I can stop her heart in an instant.”

  Evan shot forward, and I caught him by the arm and held him back. “I got this,” I muttered. To Locke, I said, “And what is it you want?”

  “A long while back,” he said, “there was a demon called Tasraan.”

  There's no way I could disguise the shock on my face.

  Locke smiled. “Ah, you're familiar with him. Then perhaps you know that in order to release him from his binding, you need a keystone to open a door into a pocket dimension. That keystone is somewhere in this building. Find it, give it to me, and we'll all go on our merry way.”

  My mind immediately went to the World Wars exhibit Evan had mentioned. It would almost certainly be there. “Why don't you find it yourself?” I asked.

  “I've tried,” he said bitterly. “But my Talent, as we've noted, isn't as strong as yours. I can't sense it. I'm sure its magical signature has been masked to keep it hidden. Maybe someone with your prowess will have better luck.”

  I wanted to strangle him. Instead, I said, “Okay. But if you hurt her, I promise you, I'll hurt you back.”

  He shrugged one shoulder.

  I turned to Evan. “You have a key?”

  “Y-yeah,” he stammered, showing me the correct one on his keyring.

  I led him to the door, which was actually a pair of glass doors, and unlocked it. We went into a large open room with displays lining the walls and glass cases throughout. A staircase led to the second floor, which overlooked the first.

  “Where's the World Wars exhibit?” I asked.

  Evan said, “Upstairs.” We started for the staircase, but he stopped. “Wait. The alarm.” He went back to the door and punched a code into the keypad next to it to disable the security system. “This one doesn't just text Dad; it calls the cops.”

  We went upstairs, where he led me to a room with multiple exhibits. There was all kinds of stuff from both World Wars–weapons, photos, a section devoted to locals who fought, and in one corner, a small model of a battle featuring actual rubble from the real thing. I thought for sure that the keystone would be amongst this rubble. I held my hands up, palms out, seeking even a hint of magic. I extended my senses over the room.

  Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  I frowned and began sweeping over the rest of the displays on the second floor and continued to come up empty. We moved downstairs.

  “What if you can't find it?” Evan asked after about fifteen minutes. “What if he's wrong and it's not even here? What will he do to her?”

  “I'm not gonna let him hurt her,” I assured him, though I wasn't sure yet exactly what I would do.

  We spent another fifteen or twenty minutes looking, but I neither sensed nor saw anything that would fit what we needed. In that time, I came up with a plan.

  I ran back to the World Wars exhibit and grabbed a piece of the rubble about the size of my fist and carried it outside. Locke raised his eyebrows.

  “Here,” I said, holding the chunk out.

  “That's it?” he asked skeptically.

  I nodded. “It's got some major mojo on it to hide the magic in it. Even I can only barely sense it. But yeah, this is it.”

  Something tickled the corner of my senses.

  “Put it on the ground and back away,” Locke said. “I want to loo-”

  “Get back!” I yelled, dropping the rock and pulling Evan away from the building.

  Near the rooftop there was an explosion, and a large section of facade broke off and rained down. Eva took advantage of the distraction and tore free from Locke's grip and ran toward us. Almost immediately I sensed Locke's attempt to stop her heart, but his magic was slow and I was able to break it up before it reached her. Had she still been standing next to him, she would have been dead. I lashed out angrily at the man and he flew into the building then collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

  From the rooftop, three floors above us, a black rope uncurled down the side of the building, and a figure slid over the side and down the rope, landing near the debris. It bent down, picked something up, then turned.

  “Chris!” I exclaimed, stunned.

  His face lit. “Ally! I thought I'd lost you!” With a triumphant look, he held up a golf ball-sized stone. “I have the keystone! And part one of the plan came off without a hitch.”

  In the distance, police sirens were wailing. Chris looked in their direction, then back at me. “Gotta go. Sunset, just like we said. I love you!” He ran around the side of the building.

  I stared in the direction he'd disappeared, dumbfounded. A moment later, Evan shook me. “Ally!”

  I blinked. The sirens were getting closer. I'd triggered the security system on the way back out of the building, hoping that the police would scare Locke off, since apparently he'd had his share of run-ins with them in the past.

  “Okay, yeah,” I said. “Let's go.”

  * * * * *

  Evan drove us to the lot where I'd parked the bike. During the drive, Eva assured us she was okay, just shaken up. Evan and I explained what was going on, leaving out only the more violent details. We'd promised that we would in exchange for her secrecy about me, and she deserved to know anyway.

  She was silent for a few moments, then said, “Okay, I think I believe you.”

  I shook my head. “What is it about your family?” I asked Evan. “You just seem to handle this stuff well.”

  Evan frowned. “Yeah, about that. I don't think I can take any more.”

  I'd been waiting for that and told him so as he pulled up next to the bike. “Your family is almost certainly safe now. What they're looking for is gone. Word will get back to whoever hired Locke soon enough. They'll have no reason to bother you anymore.”

  I grabbed the backpack. “Can I–”

  “Yeah, of course,” Evan said. “It's yours.”

  “Go be with your family,” I told him as I got out of the car.

  He looked at me. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything. I hope you figure out your stuff, too.”

  He drove away. And I felt ridiculously alone.

  FIFTEEN

  I didn't know what to do. I was so confused. Chris and I had made some kind of plan? Something that didn't involve Stephen and the others? Everything was coming together, and I didn't like the conclusion. Had we been planning to raise Tasraan ourselves? Why would we do that? And why couldn't I remember when he could?

  It's the only thing that made sense, though. The others calling me a traitor; Walker saying I'm dangerous; the dem
on telling me we had the same goal.

  I needed more money, and I felt a lot guiltier for taking it from a Chandler ATM than I had in Pittsburgh. But I did it anyway. Why not, right? What's stealing a few hundred dollars compared to unleashing a world-conquering demon?

  I gassed up the bike and just drove for a couple of hours, taking in the sights, letting the wind rush over me. I found a few back roads and followed them, just to see where they led. It had a meditative effect on me. It didn't bring me any answers, but it did calm my mind enough that I didn't feel like crying anymore.

  At around eight, I found myself pulling into a Walmart plaza in a town adjacent to Chandler (Chandler itself didn't have its own). I needed a few things, so I parked and went in. I grabbed a cart and just walked around the store for a while, partly just to be somewhere since I didn't know where I'd be going after this. I picked out a couple new T-shirts and a pair of jeans, as well as some delicates. I grabbed a toothbrush and toothpaste after realizing I hadn't brushed my teeth in days (blech!). I had to be thrifty, though, since all I had to carry it in was the backpack. The bike definitely wouldn't be convenient long-term.

  I was making my way to the checkout when I heard a voice. “Hey, girly!”

  I turned and saw Derek sauntering up to me. “Finally dumped Evan, eh? I don't blame you. After meeting me, who wouldn't come running.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Actually,” I said, “Evan showed me what a real man is. All others pale in comparison.”

  Derek laughed. “Seriously, though, it's good to see him hanging out with someone besides me. He really doesn't have any other friends.”

  I shook my head. “That's a shame. He's pretty awesome.”

  He smiled. “That he is.So, what are you up to?”

  I shrugged. “I'm not really sure. I need to find somewhere to stay tonight.”

  His eyes lit. “Well, you're in luck. I've got your answer.” He pulled out his wallet and withdrew a business card and handed it to me.

  CHANDLER INN, 32 RIVERFRONT DRIVE, it read. Underneath, in smaller letters: DEREK RHODES, PUBLIC RELATIONS.

  “My dad owns it,” he said. “Show them the card, tell them I sent you, and boom–free room.”

  I cocked my head at him. “Are you an angel or the devil, Derek Rhodes?”

  “A little of each,” he answered. “You still owe me your story, you know.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I think I'll maintain the mystery for a little longer.”

  “Harsh,” he said. “But I like it. See ya round?”

  “Maybe,” I said, then I turned and walked away, giving him a little finger wave over my shoulder. I checked out and threw everything into my pack and walked back out to the parking lot.

  I instantly felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A split second later, I heard something splatter on the ground. I looked down and saw a patch of asphalt was sizzling and melting. I swung my head around and saw two men wearing business suits and sunglasses–despite it being after nine now–approaching me. One was black with a shaved head; the other looked vaguely Asian.

  Baldy reared his head back and proceeded to spit at me. The spittle hit the wall of the store and began to sizzle and smoke. Mr. Sulu did the same, and this one barely grazed my right sleeve. A hole formed in the cloth and my arm burned a little.

  Acid loogies. Gross.

  I darted into the parking lot, using the cars for cover. Several poor individuals were going to wonder if there had been some freak acid rain. I sent out a burst of magic, and the two men waved their hands in front of them and neutralized it.

  Great, they were also practitioners.

  I looked around. The men were approaching one of the cart returns, and I mentally yanked at some of the carts there. They flew out of the return and smashed into the men. They stumbled; one fell to one knee.

  Okay, I couldn't hit them directly with magic, but I could attack them indirectly.

  I ducked down and felt the asphalt. This was earth magic, which isn't one of my strong suits, but I slid my senses through the parking lot and felt the footsteps of the two men as they advanced toward me. I lashed out, opening a crack in the pavement. Mr. Sulu's foot fell into the gash. I sealed it again and he was stuck.

  Baldy was awfully close, and I barely avoided more of the caustic saliva.

  Above me was a tall pole light that illuminated the lot. I reached my arm toward it and called on the electricity flowing through it. Then I thrust my arm downward and pointed toward Baldy. White-hot electricity shot down from it and smacked straight into Baldy. He began to convulse, and the smell of burning skin assaulted my nose. He fell, still spasming, and I let the makeshift lightning hit him until the power flowing into the light cut off as a breaker somewhere was finally tripped. Baldy was dead.

  Unfortunately, I hadn't been paying attention to Sulu. He'd gotten free of my trap and was now behind me. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me back. I screamed involuntarily and struggled against his grip. He threw me to the ground, and then I could see him. He was missing one shoe and his foot and ankle were bleeding. I watched his lips work as he prepared to spit in my face.

  Then he was yanked backward and Matthew, the vampire, was there, his fangs buried in Sulu's neck. He drank deeply and I watched the color drain from Sulu's face. When Matthew was done, he dropped Sulu's body and spat some blood onto the ground.

  “Bitter,” he complained.

  Before I could say anything, the freshly sated vampire blurred and the two bodies quickly vanished. Matthew was back a second later.

  He was, of course, dressed impeccably. Though his clothes were casual, they probably cost more than my entire wardrobe back home. And not a hair on his head was out of place.

  “First vampires, now Syndicate,” he mused. “You're certainly not boring, are you?”

  I sighed and brushed my own disheveled hair out of my face. “Livin' on the edge,” I mumbled.

  “Julianna is not amused,” he said nonchalantly. “Fortunately for you, I managed to convince her that what she did was dangerously close to attempted murder of someone under her hospitality and that you merely defended yourself.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “And that worked?”

  “I also mentioned that she had significantly overpunished Forrest and the Council would be forced to investigate a baroness who tortures her kindred.” He cleared his throat. “If they found out, that is.”

  The Vampiric Council. Presided over by the current Count–a man named Marius–with twelve viscounts responsible for policing the barons beneath them. The last thing Julianna would want is to draw their attention, even if she could ultimately prove her innocence.

  I quirked my head at him. “That's a ballsy move for an outsider,” I said. “Who exactly are you, Matth–” I stopped mid-word. Matthew. It couldn't be.

  “The Matthew?” I asked. “Scion of Dracula, Matthew?”

  Count Dracula had indeed existed, and he had been the one to unite the various vampire tribes under the organized government of the Council. In his unlife, he'd sired very few vampires, and only two still remained.

  I stared at him.

  He shrugged.

  I may not have known a lot about vampire baronies, but Stephen had covered Council politics in his lessons. This guy was like a prince in the vampire community. Though he didn't hold a seat on the Council, he would be a trusted adviser to Marius and the viscounts, and probably often served as an unofficial representative of the Council.

  “What are you even doing here?” I asked. “Chandler can't be that important to the Council.”

  “Just passing through,” he said in a tone that indicated not to pry. Which meant it was probably political and therefore none of my business.

  Still... “Thank you,” I said. “You've stuck your neck out for me.”

  He chuckled, and I realized the humor in my choice of words. I blushed and laughed with him.

  “Not all of us are monsters,” he said.
“Dracula believed in fair play and instilled that in me. Julianna, like many others of my kind, does not share that belief.”

  True that. “Okay, and what are you doing here? At Walmart, I mean.”

  He gestured across the road, to a Holiday Inn Express on the opposite side. “You happen to be shopping across from my hotel,” he said. “I heard you scream.”

  I eyed him skeptically. “You're staying at a Holiday Inn Express? I had you pegged as more of a Hilton guy.”

  He chuckled again. “You misunderstand. It's my hotel.”

  “As in, you own it?”

  He nodded. “Either I or the Council own at least one hotel within every barony. Among numerous other business holdings, of course.”

  Ah. Rich old vampires. I had a quick flash of a TV commercial featuring a hammy actor as Dracula saying, “No, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night. Ah-ha-ha!” I stifled a laugh.

  “Well, seriously, thanks for the help,” I said. “It's nice that not everyone wants to kill me.”

  He inclined his head. “Until next time.” He paused, and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Witch.”

  “I told you not to–” I started, but he'd pulled his disappearing act again. I sighed. “Man, I wish I could do that,” I mumbled.

  I mean, it was really cool.

  SIXTEEN

  Since it was free, I didn't get the Chandler Inn's nicest room, but it was leaps and bounds better than the room at the Carlton. The receptionist had smiled broadly when I showed her Derek's card. Apparently he was well-liked. I could see why.

  I spent some time reading more of the Adoveri's predictions, looking for anything else about Tasraan, but I found nothing. I should have gone back to the library to do more research, but I was tired, and without Mary there, it would've felt too empty.

  Why would Chris and I want to bring back Tasraan? I tried to contemplate it objectively. Chances were good that he would greatly reward whoever helped him return, so it likely meant gaining a lot of power. I flashed back to Chris's voice saying, “Like kings, Ally.” Was that it? It still didn't make sense, though, because we'd never had any desire for power. I couldn't imagine what might have happened to change that in just the few days I couldn't remember.