Mist, Murder & Magic

by Dionnara Dawson

  Immego had no experience with fighting, beyond a vague recollection of sparring at his House when he was much younger. It was like being caught in the middle of a wild storm: swirling darkness, screaming and sprays of blood surrounded him. Immego didn’t know what to do, or where to move. These were all humans. He didn’t feel any particular responsibility to help them as a species, but being in amongst their pain—he couldn’t have predicted this—the raw fear and emotion of life under attack sent his heart racing.

  A child, about fourteen, skidded on the ground in his line of sight, pursued by a mist of demons, perhaps two or three, and the boy was shrieking. Immego didn’t think. He acted.

  As he ran to the boy, he took a blade from his belt, a short-sword, and brought it arching down upon the demons as he stood between them and the human kid. With a single slash, he killed each of the demons, then turned to the boy, still shaking on the ground. Immego held out a hand. ‘Are you okay?’

  The boy was shell-shocked. Immego didn’t know if there was a safer place to be, or where to send victims, but he pointed away from the centre of the demonic activity. ‘Run that way.’ He pointed, and the kid didn’t need to be told twice. Immego turned to look for his sister. He shouldn’t have left her side. But there she was, in a pool of red and blue light, standing on the roof of a police car, slicing down demons that surged to her, too stupid to realise that they would be killed by her blades. Immego glanced around. He couldn’t see Henry or Sam. He pulled Jackie down off the car.

  ‘We should go,’ he said in her ear. She looked around as the sun broke over the horizon. ‘I don’t know how they’re going to handle this, but personally, I don’t want to give them any reason to get us in trouble and if we’re on the six o’clock news, we might be. We need to get out of here before that happens. Or, you know, before we get killed.’ He tugged her away from a set of police officers. They had been trying to shoot at the demons, but quickly learned their tragic lesson: the demon mist wasn’t traditionally corporeal, the bullets went through them, into other people.

  For once, Jackie nodded in agreement. ‘Let’s go.’ If one thing was always true about his sister, she knew when to take her leave.

  ‘How do we—’ Immego began to ask, but Jackie looked at her watch, then up at the air before them as it began to shift and change.

  ‘Right on time,’ Jackie said as the portal opened.

  ‘Oh, not again.’ Immego groaned.

  In a rare display of sisterly affection, she took his hand. ‘Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.’ Together, they stepped through the portal and Immego squeezed her hand gratefully.

  ‘This is amazing,’ Jackie squealed. They had collapsed onto the couch after the London visit and fallen asleep immediately. Now it was morning here, and Immego rubbed his eyes.

  ‘What?’ he mumbled. His stomach did not feel good. Neither did his head. Eugh, it felt like he had a killer hangover. Stupid portal.

  Jackie turned her phone so that Immego could see it. It was open at her bank account, and their payment was sitting in there, bringing their total to one hundred and one thousand dollars. ‘I’m so going shopping today.’ Somehow she looked bright and perky in a fresh pair of jeans and a red top that exposed, well, her chest-area, and her black hair was smooth and fluffy around her shoulders.

  ‘When did you get up? How do you look like that?’ He asked accusingly.

  Jacqueline smiled over at him. ‘About an hour ago. And because I’m always pretty. Do you want some breakfast? There are leftover pancakes.’

  Immego shook his head. ‘No thanks. I’m going to have a shower.’ He paused. ‘Wait. What happened with…’

  ‘With London? I got an official report from The Force basically thanking us for our service and requesting more “goods” immediately and promising prompt payment. There was nothing about London.’

  ‘Has anything been on the news? Can they cover up something that big?’ Immego asked. A more morbid thought crossed his mind as he thought of the boy he’d saved. ‘How many people were… killed?’

  His sister, so composed, was rarely ruffled. Now, she cringed a little. ‘There have been varying reports on television. One reported it as a natural disaster of some kind, if you can believe it. Another said it was a terrorist attack, though they don’t know by whom. Another said it was a large gas leak that exploded. No one knows what’s going on, and if anyone who lived really saw it, they’re not the ones coming forward. I don’t know how The Force handles it, but maybe humans are just incapable of believing in magic and demons and stuff.’ She paused for a long moment. ‘The reports were all different, but at least fourteen thousand people died there.’

  ‘Holy shit,’ Immego said, recoiling. He wondered if that boy had escaped that fate.

  Jacqueline nodded. ‘I know, right? That’s insane. At least we might’ve saved some of them.’

  Immego shook his head. ‘But… fourteen thousand. The stars, Jac, what if we could’ve saved more? We shouldn’t have left.’ He sat up on the couch, his back in knots. To his displeasure, still in the clothes he wore last night, there was red blood up his jeans and some of his own vomit on the sleeve of his shirt. Eww.

  ‘We were completely outmatched, Imm, we would’ve died, and if we had died, we wouldn’t be able to make more weapons for the next time they’re needed. That’s what we have to do today,’ she said seriously. Jac wasn’t serious often, but when she was it was hard to miss.

  ‘That’s never happened before,’ he said. ‘Demons killing so many people, right?’

  ‘Actually, I think it has. A long time ago. But it’s sure not common, obviously. They’re really grabbing this opportunity, now that the angels are gone.’

  Immego rubbed at his eyes. He playfully bumped his sister’s shoulder as he passed her—a wordless way of telling her he was glad she was okay—and she smirked and bumped him back.

  In the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes and threw them directly into the trash. They could buy more. Even though their weapons must have helped, and it was extraordinary that they had achieved even that: a breakthrough in supernatural weaponry right when the world needed it, Immego’s heart shrunk in his chest. It didn’t seem like enough. They had to do more to help. They needed more Marks.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Hella

  Hella woke at her mum’s house in her bed. She blinked slowly, staring up at the ceiling she had painted when she was eleven. It was purple, she realised: almost the same shade as her amulet. She had never noticed that her bedroom, ceiling and walls were the same colour as her magical powers. It was either a weird coincidence, or not a coincidence at all.

  Her body felt tired and heavy as she flipped the covers off. She was wearing the same clothes she had put on what must have been three days ago, before Valhalla. Her eyes snapped wide. Harrow. Then the Warlock House flashed in her mind, burning and collapsing, everyone evacuated. She was at Grace’s house, she realised, but in her waking-up state, she’d still thought of her as ‘mum’. Weird. And a little sad. She put that out of her mind.

  Hella got to her feet and started. She wasn’t alone in the room. Grace herself sat at Hella’s desk chair.

  ‘Hi, honey. How are you feeling?’ Grace was dressed in her usual jeans and a cardigan. Her hair, for the first time, looked a little ruffled in its French braid.

  ‘Like I could do with a shower. Or two.’ She thought of all the dust and muck from the collapse of the building and looked down at herself. She had transferred a good deal of it onto her bed and sheets. ‘Where’s Harrow? Is everyone okay? Did they find Amara?’ She rubbed her stomach. It growled loudly. It had been a long time since she’d eaten. Grace got up from her chair and crossed the floor to her daughter and wrapped her up into a warm hug.

  ‘Net told me what happened, Hella. Harrow is being detained at Faerie House until they can reorganise his trial. I haven’t heard anything about Amara. There was one death, but I don’t k
now the name. Tommy and his family are okay, though.’ She squeezed Hella tighter. ‘And you. I’m so glad you’re okay. Why didn’t you tell me about all this?’

  Hella sunk back down onto her bed. She must look like hell. Her hair was escaping what was once a braid. There was dirt and blood under her nails. Her hands were scraped from when she had first tried to manually move all those rocks to find Harrow. Taking a shower was really going to sting those, she realised.

  She shrugged. ‘I couldn’t tell you. We had no time. And the more people who knew… Harrow jumped in front of me—when the building started to collapse—he took the brunt of the hit. That’s why he was hurt.’ The image of Leo ripping out the rod through Harrow’s skin made her cringe. Hella knew Harrow had his soul back now, by the way he had saved her, by how grateful he was that she was there with him, as he lay on the ground outside the broken House. By how he wouldn’t let her say that it was her powers that had destroyed the building.

  ‘Why don’t you go have a shower, then we can tend to those cuts. There’s food waiting for you when you’re done. But don’t be too long, or one of the kids will get it.’

  ‘The kids?’ Hella asked, frowning. Did she mean Elliot?

  ‘All the Cambion children,’ Grace said.

  ‘Oh.’ Hella had completely forgotten about them. ‘Thanks for looking after them all this time. That can’t be easy. How’s Elliot?’

  The corner of Grace’s mouth twisted into a small smile. ‘He seems to be coming around, actually. After the time he spent at your store. What did you tell him?’ She sat beside Hella on the bed, her hands folded in her lap. No wonder she looked slightly dishevelled, looking after all those magical kids. Hella could see dark rings under her eyes.

  Honestly, she couldn’t remember what they had said to Elliot in the store. ‘I guess he’s just learning who they are,’ she said, getting up to find a fresh set of clothes. ‘How long was I asleep?’

  ‘About nine hours. You were like a rock. You must’ve needed it.’

  ‘I did,’ Hella said, but her mind was on Harrow. He was still injured. Cauterising the wounds with a blade wasn’t healing, it was the bare minimum of first-aid. He must be hurt and starving. Hella had to go and speak with the council. She had to make them see that he was innocent. Now that she had rested, maybe she could even offer to help them restore Warlock House. If they pardoned him.

  Hella had been right. Showering, while partially nice, was actually a bitch when you had as many cuts as she did, especially on her hands. It made washing her greasy hair rather painful too, the shampoo and conditioner biting her wounds. But when she finished, she was grateful to be clean. She climbed into a fresh set of clothes and didn’t even bother drying her hair before quickly combing it and tying it into a long braid down her back. Her curls would take their revenge later, as it dried.

  Her stomach ached as she went downstairs, the smell of fresh pancakes and coffee stronger than ever. The kitchen was overrun with people: all the Cambion children (Hella kept miscounting—she thought there were maybe seven or eight of them—but in the kitchen running around it seemed twice as many), as well as Grace and Elliot. Even upon first glance, Hella could see what she’d meant about El: he was a little on edge at all the movement, but not because of what the kids were. He even passed the orange juice to a little warlock calmly. Hella smiled to herself, pleased at his progress. He would not turn out like his father if she had anything to do with it.

  As if sensing her approach, Elliot looked up as she came into the room and offered her an easy smile. ‘Hey, you look better than when Net carried you in here. How are you feeling?’ He stuffed a pancake into his mouth as Grace hurried to keep up with the demand, both frying pans on the stovetop cooking more. She flipped them, then poured Hella a cup of coffee and handed it to her wordlessly.

  ‘I’m feeling better. Starving.’ Hella picked up a piece of toast and ate it plain. When you hadn’t eaten for three days, you didn’t waste time with jam or peanutbutter. ‘Look, I have to go. Are you all okay here? Do you need me to conjure anything?’ She looked to Grace. Her adoptive mother could conjure small things, but nothing much. A coffee here and there. Hella wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before: How could she, the promised witch, be born to such a weakly-gifted witch?

  Grace thought for a moment. ‘I think some new clothes for the children. They all only came in what they’re wearing. Ask them for what else they might need.’

  Hella munched down another piece of toast. ‘Done.’ She finished her toast, skulled her coffee then went and talked to the kids. She conjured clothes, some toys, and more groceries so that Grace wouldn’t have to try to leave the house for them. Grace gave her a quick hug in the foyer, out of earshot of the kids and Elliot.

  ‘Look, Hella. I don’t know if you think of me as a mother anymore, and that’s okay, but I just need you to know that I love you and I want you to be safe. I’m not going to try to stop you from doing whatever you have to do, but please, just be careful.’ There was a sincere pleading in her eyes.

  Hella nodded and hugged her back. ‘Tell the kids they can use my room. I don’t think I’ll be back tonight.’

  Grace nodded. ‘Thanks for the conjuring.’

  Hella opened the door to find Tommy, his hand raised as if he were about to knock.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. He nodded at Grace as Hella closed the door behind her.

  ‘We have to talk to the council,’ Hella said immediately. They walked together, falling into step beside the other.

  ‘I agree,’ Tommy said. ‘That’s why I came. How’s everything in there?’ He jerked his thumb back toward the house.

  ‘They’re fine. Do you think Tahlia can sway the other members?’

  ‘I think she can try, but there’s more than the Warlock Council to deal with now. We’re all staying at Faerie House, he’s locked up in their cells. We’ll have to convince both councils.’ He sighed.

  Despite everything, it was a nice morning with just a touch of a breeze. Hella snuggled into her green parka jacket, glad she had worn it with her boots. ‘How many council members are there?’ she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘Four in each House, so eight. They rotate terms if someone is voted out. I think we’re going to have a tough time with Melvin Ventus, but we might be able to talk to his daughter, Julie. Technically Melvin isn’t an active council member now that Julie is, but he still holds a lot of power in the House. Tahlia is on our side, and then we have to convince the Nympha and Mettalum, but we can talk to Leo—he’ll help us—so that he can convince his Family council member. As for the Faerie council, I don’t really know them. Our business doesn’t mix a lot, so I’ve never dealt with them, but our best bet is going through the fae we do know. Meele, Amara, even Hunter and Tessa.’

  It was about a half hour walk from the Corvime house to Faerie House, and they walked briskly. They continued talking about the council and who they might be able to get help from. ‘What about Piper?’ Tommy asked.

  ‘She’s a witch,’ Hella said.

  ‘But she’s powerful. Who’s her coven? Maybe they know people,’ Tommy said.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t even know where Piper normally lives. We should ask her.’ Hella shot off a text to her birth-mother, asking her to meet them at Faerie House, then she froze midstep. ‘Oh.’

  Tommy stopped too. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I… I kind of never got around to talking to Meele. About Piper and… everything.’ About Meele allegedly making Piper give me up because the prophecy said that if I grew up with her I would be dark.

  ‘Ah. That’s going to be awkward. Do you want to talk with her?’ Tommy said.

  They continued walking. ‘Yes, but not about all that right now. Harrow comes first.’ Harrow always comes first.

  They arrived at Faerie House, and Hella’s eyes widened. The expanse on which the house sat was flooded with people: Cambions spilling out around the building by the
hundreds. Some kids were playing, but it was mostly adults congregating in smaller groups. She suspected they were still talking about the loss of their home. Piper was waiting for them off to the side. Hella wondered if she had brought a bag or a change of clothes, or if she simply had multiple black leather outfits which looked identical. Today her hair was out and curling around her cheeks. It made her look much softer, Hella thought.

  ‘You texted?’ Piper asked, raising a blonde brow. She must dye her hair, Hella thought.

  ‘Yes, thanks for coming. Where are you staying while you’re here, by the way? Anyway, we need to save Harrow. They still want to put him on trial. I know he has his soul back. He’s innocent. We need to convince both House’s councils now. We were wondering about who you might know, your coven, anyone who could help us?’ Hella said.

  The noise of hundreds of people was above a hub-hub of conversation. Piper stepped a little closer. ‘I’ve been staying at your store, with Net. He’s very accomodating for an angel. My coven is in Townsville, West End. We have some connections. I’ll make some calls. But, Hella, how can you be sure—without talking to Harrow—that he has his soul back?’

  ‘He jumped in front of the building as it collapsed on us. He took the brunt of it so that I wouldn’t. Besides, I did talk to him. I astralled into his new cell. He said he was sorry. He’s himself again.’ Hella wanted to see him again now, properly, and wrap him up in her arms. But she didn’t need to ask him about his soul. She knew.

  Piper seemed to take her word for it, which, Hella thought, was a nice step in their relationship. ‘Okay, well, we can’t work here. There are too many people. They’ve tried to clean up Warlock House, but it’s not like they can rebuild it. Not quickly, anyway.’

  ‘We could,’ Hella said. ‘That’s one of our selling points. We need to get the Faerie and Warlock council members—as well as anyone who would support us—in one place.’