by Phil Stern
“Come on,” the older enchantress urged. “It’s time to move.”
“No!” Caylee sobbed, her tears flowing down onto Jenla’s bloody chest. “It’s all my fault!”
“Caylee, get up.” Gently pulling her back, Tiffany coolly checked Jenla’s earth stone. Finding it utterly inert, she swiftly removed the chain from her neck. Tiffany then used it to find Jenla’s magical travel bag, soon pulling out the time stone and the device used to control it.
During this Caylee merely watched in stunned silence, her arm around Pend. The tiger princess was now cuddled underneath next to her, purring and gently nudging. “How was Peck able to slash her neck?” she dully asked. “That shouldn’t be...”
“I don’t know. I was distracted and didn’t see.” Standing tall, Tiffany looked back at Jenla’s murderer, still quietly sitting between two unicorn horns. “You’ll have to ask him.”
Slowly rising herself, Caylee was nearly covered in blood. “And Sarina?”
“Bad.” Tiffany briefly stared at Grant’s body some distance off. Though he was surely dead, a tiger wandered over to helpfully rip his neck apart. “The broken ribs have shifted. There may be internal damage. We need to get her out of here.”
“And Jenla is dead,” Caylee unnecessarily added, studying her lifeless form. “They wanted to kill me, and instead...”
“They wanted to kill us all!” Tiffany snapped. “By the stone, Caylee. Does everything have to be about you?”
Breathing heavily, tears streaming down her face, the blonde enchantress couldn’t tear her eyes from Jenla’s lifeless body. “You’re right.” Idly stroking Pend’s head, she finally shifted her glance to the senior sorceress. “My apologies.”
Behind them, an iron rain gutter pulled away from the corner of the manor home to crash down on a nearby shed. For whatever reason, their brief Donlon refuge was literally coming apart. Perhaps someone’s bad dreams had soaked the old structure in destructive magic? Not that it mattered much now, of course.
Calmly staring off, Tiffany quickly reached a decision. “Okay, first things first.” Now looking over at the female unicorn, still standing over the cursing Molly, she gave a stiff nod while clenching her right fist.
Blinking in surprise, the unicorn then gave the equivalent of an equine shrug. Leaning down, she viciously wacked the side of Molly’s head with a sharp horn. Even as the unconscious girl fully slumped down, the fighting animal nonchalantly stepped on her neck. A sharp snapping sound, and then all was still.
Feeling nothing, Caylee bent down to inspect Pend’s mild wound. Spreading some healing magic, she soon straightened up. “What can I do?”
“So the tigers take everyone back to Lysandy?” Tiffany asked, motioning the female unicorn to patrol the wood line once more. “Us, the uni’s, everybody?”
Caylee briefly communicated with Pend, who quickly nodded her assent. “Yes. That’s no problem.”
“Good.” The senior enchantress coolly looked at her younger Coven-mate. “Are you done being a little girl? I need to know.”
Dark locks blowing lightly in the breeze, Tiffany Smith’s tall, strong figure dominated the skyline. Brown eyes pulsing a slight green, the contented, sensitive young woman Caylee knew was fully subsumed. Instead, she was confronted by the steely determination of a hardened field operative who’d just watched a Coven-mate die.
To her own mild surprise, Caylee felt the same resolve. “Yes, I’m done with all that.” Brushing back a stray strand of hair, she gave a definitive nod. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Good.” Still looking at her, Tiffany’s left finger stabbed over at Peck. “Interrogate this piece of shit. This was a planned hit. Find out who specifically ordered them to kill us.” A brief pause, two birds happily chirping in the near distance. “And then do what needs to be done.”
*****
Cradling his broken wrist, Peck painfully stumbled along the wooded trail. With Tornado at this back, he’d been summarily herded across the expansive manor lawn into the encroaching forest. At a few points the young rebel had tried to stop and address Caylee, but the unicorn’s horn was sharp and unyielding. For her part the blonde sorceress said nothing, moodily studying the surrounding countryside.
Pend had insisted on attending the solemn procession. Padding along behind them, the cub directed an intermittent growl at Peck’s back. One of the royal guard closely attended his young charge, muzzle still bloody from Grant’s untimely death.
Barely fifty yards in they entered a round clearing off which stretched three other trails. No doubt this had once been the standard staging area for the manor’s children when out exploring the woods. Indeed, two benches sat on either side of the open space, while a rough log ladder led up to what was once a low tree house.
At this point Peck definitely spun about, still hunched over from the damage Tiffany had done to his stomach and ribs. “Caylee, enough!” he managed to gasp, somehow resisting the rough unicorn poke to his shoulder. “If we could just talk...”
Arms folded, the sorceress transmitted a silent order. Promptly rearing up, Tornado planted a hoof right into the prisoner’s chest. Slammed down on his back with stunning force, Peck could barely breathe.
“Talk?” Sauntering closer, Caylee slowly tied back her blonde hair. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”
Circling around to come up on Peck’s other side, her face the very embodiment of feline fury, the tiger princess let out a ferocious yowl. Dried blood still caked Pend’s fur directly over the shallow knife wound. Tornado’s tail impatiently swished back and forth, while the attending tiger bared his fangs.
“Well, we’re certainly not lacking for volunteers here, are we?” Eyes pulsing a vibrant green, the enchantress smiled. “With any luck, they might even kill you quickly.”
“Wow.” Gathering himself, the Donlon youth managed to sit up on one elbow. “One might almost think you were enjoying this.”
Actually, he was right. For after all the fear and uncertainly of the last several weeks, this pure, unblemished wrath was nearly intoxicating. First conjuring her favorite pair of slinky, jet-black gloves, Caylee let a hand settle around her Coven Stick. Throbbing with latent might, she took a moment to enjoy the slow fusion of power and purpose. “Any last words, luv?”
“No, wait!” Breathing heavily, he painfully held up a placating hand. “This isn’t you.”
“Isn’t it, now?” Laughing, she slowly detached the magical weapon from her belt. “Maybe you just don’t know me very well.”
“Caylee, you can’t really...”
“You know, we’re generally called witches. It seems to be some kind of universal concept no matter what dimension we’re in.” Pursing her lips, as if in great contemplation, the Coven Stick slowly transformed into a plain metal hacksaw. “Because a truly powerful, independent woman is always some great threat to society, is she not?”
“Look, I’m sorry.” Shying away from Pend’s teeth, he tried to hold her gaze. “That girl, your friend? She didn’t even really defend herself! She just let my knife...”
“This is called a Coven Stick. Everything happened so quickly you didn’t even get to properly admire it back there.” Tossing the saw in the air, she harmlessly caught it, blade-first, on the way back down. “You see, it can never hurt me, no matter what. But our enemies...”
Taking a step forward, she kicked out his plant arm, pinning his wrist to the ground with a heavy boot. Bending down, she almost sensuously put the saw to his forearm, the sharp teeth drawing a few spots of blood. “Well, with our enemies it’s quite a different story.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way!” Laying back, he tried not move. “You and I are one of a kind, Caylee. Together, we could rule here!”
“Rule?” Raising an eyebrow, the saw remained in place. “Wouldn’t the demons have something to say about that?”
“They’re all gone! Took off, they did, in a ship last night.” Peck allowed himself a hopeful no
d. “It’s all ours for the taking, luv. With my followers, and your power...”
“But they didn’t all take off, did they?” she barely breathed. “Because someone sent you here. To kill us. Who would that be, I wonder?”
“You know that already.” Taking a deep breath, he plunged on. “The same one who nearly did you in on the yacht!”
“Lady Wendily Osler.” Almost luxuriously pronouncing the name, she playfully rocked the blade back and forth on his exposed skin. “And what did she promise you for our deaths?”
“Freedom.” Grimacing from the pain, he put his head back in the dirt. “We’ve a few hundred lads and girls rotting in the camps. And the jails.”
“They would all be released?”
“That was the deal, yes.”
“You fool.” Laughing, she stood tall once more. “You think you can trust a demon?”
“She needs us.” Tentatively sitting up, he tried to ignore the growling tigers and inflamed unicorn. “There’s too much unrest. Wendily knows they can’t rule by fear and intimidation anymore. But with our support...”
“You idiot,” she softly declared. “Wendily is just using you.”
“But the people, Caylee! If she really helps us...”
“So this is all for the people, is it?” Turning about, she stared deeper into the forest. “And not for you?”
“For me? Of course not! Why, you know...”
“And what about the drugs? And the danders you force into prostitution?” Deactivating the Coven Stick, she placed it once more on her belt. “Is that all for the cause too?”
“You know it is,” he solemnly replied. “But that’s all...”
“Even the one’s you personally fuck?” Letting the obscenity hang between them, Caylee looked back down at him again. “Some sort of quality control, I suppose?”
“That’s what you’re angry about?” Groaning, he looked up. “Morality is just another chain wrapped around our necks by the...”
“Spare me your deep revolutionary horseshit!” she snapped. “You enslave and exploit powerless people, and then murder those you can’t control!”
“Murder? I’d hardly call...”
“That bomb yesterday? How many people died in Highsmith Square, I wonder?”
“Oh, that. Fourteen, if you must know.” A philosophical shrug. “But this is war. Causalities are a fact of life. You know that.”
Reaching down, she grabbed the front of his shirt. Yanking Peck up to face level, she put a gloved-finger in his face. “What I know is that you’re a lying, murdering piece of shit!”
“No,” he mumbled, somehow holding her gaze. “You’re better than this, Caylee. I know you are.”
Laughing, she gave him a firm push backwards. Pend eagerly slashed at his ankle, sending Jenla’s killer twisting down to the dirt once more. Promptly receiving a sharp unicorn stomp to the hand, Peck screamed in pain.
“No, I’m not better than this.” Idly stroking her throbbing earth stone, Caylee smiled. “You see, I’m a witch. I forget that, for a time. Thanks to you, really. But now I’m straight again.”
“Caylee...” First looking over at the trim benches, upon which once sat the bored nannies of cavorting children, he stared back up at her. “I loved you! I still do!”
“Hmm.” Finger to her lips, the sorceress made a great show of considering his declaration. “Do you know why we’re here? At this particular home?”
“I do.” Shaking in pain, Peck carefully dragged his smashed hand to his lap. “This is a safe house for the resistance.”
“Our main rallying point, you called it, in case disaster strikes.” With a diffident swipe of her pinkie, Caylee tightly wrapped the young rebel in a blanket of magic. Bodily raising Peck up to a standing position again, Tornado took position directly behind him. “That’s why I took my sisters here yesterday. I was so fucking confused, that I actually thought we’d be safer if you knew where to find us.”
“I know!” He somehow ignored the growling tigers creeping in from either direction. “I was so wrong, Caylee. I see that now! But if you could only...”
“And by the way, that deal you struck with Wendily? The one that includes murdering us?” Sauntering forward, she almost clinically studied his bruised and battered face. “I’d imagine it includes a provision for the continued operation of your whorehouses and drug dens. Correct?”
“Caylee...” Trailing off, Peck tried to move his arms. But firmly emeshed within a cocoon of magic, he was helpless. “Please.”
“Even now you’re still lying. Playing for time. Until Wendily herself gets here to rescue you.” She now leaned in to softly whisper in his ear. “Isn’t that right, luv?’
“Look, you have to understand...”
“So much for the people,” she murmured, giving him a hearty shove to the chest. “And so much for love.”
Arching backwards through the air, he landed squarely on Tornado’s horn. Bursting through the front of his chest, Peck’s face was covered in stunned dismay. As usual with unicorn strikes, blood shot out in all directions.
But only for an instant. Tornado jerked his massive head to one side, sending Peck flying off through the trees. Striking a thick trunk with an awful thud and the soft crunching of bones, he silently flopped down to the ground.
Just to make sure, Caylee asked the royal guard tiger to deliver the coupe de grace. Two minutes later he came padding back into the clearing carrying Peck’s detached head by the hair.
Well, isn’t that interesting, she thought. Bending down to study his lifeless eyes, the hardened sorceress found herself utterly unmoved. Deliberately waiting a moment, there was still nothing. Finally yawning, Pend said it was probably time to go.
Placing the grisly trophy on a bench, Caylee magically carved “From The Coven” in large, flowery handwriting on the seat beside it. Admiring her handiwork, Tornado let out an approving bugle.
Then, with the unicorn in the lead and the tigers bringing up the rear, the fully-fledged Coven operative headed back to the manor home once more.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ARMS FOLDED, Tiffany Smith studied the five dead soldiers lying in the sunken lane. Four had their throats ripped out, while a fifth had the telltale exit wound of a unicorn thrust in his chest. Lounging about between the magnificent shade trees bordering the dusty country road, two tigers nonchalantly licked their paws clean of blood.
Not a menlar after Caylee’s little party disappeared into the woods, a scouting tiger had bounded towards Tiffany and Sarina in great leaps, growling an alarm. Without hesitation, the other tiger and two adult unicorns had streaked out to join him. Jumping a crumbling fence choked with vines, this deadly posse promptly raced over the twisting carriage path leading up to the house, crossed the far lawn, and entered a stand of woods at the base of a low rise.
“The uni’s didn’t even wait for instructions,” Tiffany had tightly observed, even as the second bounding unicorn tail disappeared from view. “Those tigers are a bad influence.”
“Go.” Still in great pain, Sarina still sat in the grass with a hand to her ribs. “Who knows what that crew has in mind?”
At this point there was only one option. Quickly ramping up her magic, Tiffany teleported to a convenient vantage point on top of the far hill bordering the property. Of course this was an extreme and highly dangerous exercise, requiring ample amounts of both power and skill to pull off. Leaving her weak and disoriented, she nevertheless had an excellent view of what happened next.
Down below, along the opposite base of the hill, a mounted patrol was moving along a meandering lane. Six men in all, two abreast, carrying light rifles. Carbines, Tiffany recalled, allowing cavalrymen a rapid rate of fire.
The two unicorns now charged at them along the road, from right to left, heads lowered. Immediately halting, the lead pair of soldiers brought carbines to their shoulders. Not having a clear field of fire, the remaining four men nervously fingered their own weapons.
Shots now cracked out, as fast as the men could pump new rounds into the chamber. Heart in her throat, Tiffany saw sparks erupt as the magical uni horns attracted and incinerated the metal projectiles. This sort of long-distance, low-tech weapons fire shouldn’t pose any real danger. Still, if one lucky round...
But the unicorns had done their job. Fully distracted, the men were utterly unprepared for the two roaring tigers crashing into their midst. Leaping down from the wooded rise to their right, the ferocious felines made quick work of the middle and rear pair.
A bit out in front, the two shooters had at least a moment to react. One of them immediately turned to the left, kicking his horse into a flying gallop. Leaping up and out of the lane, he dashed cross-lot over a farmer’s field and was soon lost from view.
The other man unwisely held his ground, squirming about in the saddle to assist his comrades. Taking a unicorn horn to the back for his trouble, he never even got a shot off.
Now, having traipsed down from her overlook to inspect the carnage, Tiffany realized they were out of time. This was surely just the skirmishing component of a larger force. Once the man who’d escaped reported in, the Donlon commander would have a pretty good idea where their little party was holed up. Soon the entire area would be full of armed men.
Tiffany easily mounted one of the slain men’s horses. With all four magical beasts firmly in tow, she briskly rode around to pick up the direct road to the manor home. Trotting up the once picturesque lane, now tangled with weeds and the occasional log, the sorceress made her way back to Sarina’s position.
It seemed her Coven-mate had also been forced into action during her absence. Three men were sprawled in the grass near the house, moaning and rolling about. A fourth uniformed soldier, sporting a bloody head and broken arm, wandered about in shock.
Sarina was standing near Jenla’s body. Bent over at the waist, breathing heavily, the auburn-haired sorceress was in obvious difficulty. Riding right up, Tiffany leapt down from the saddle to help.