by Unknown
Kiki had read fantasy stories about shifters having great pain during their shifts. Her biggest discomfort during a controlled shift was when her body felt like rubber. She could feel her muscles, tissues, bones and skin stretch to the breaking point and then resettle when everything slipped back into place.
When done, Kiki sat up and held her head in her hands, regaining her equilibrium. She stood up and studied her reflection in the mirror. Yep, it was her at ten—skinny, plaited hair, and slightly crooked teeth. Her eyes were the only caveat as they never changed. It didn’t cause her many problems, but every now and again, someone remarked how much older she seemed to be when shifted young.
Kiki grabbed underclothes, jeans and a shirt that she kept in a special drawer with girls’ clothes of various sizes. She shimmied into them hastily, slipped her feet into some tennis shoes, and threw the sheet over her head. She wiggled the sheet around until the holes aligned with her eyes.
Kiki glanced at the clock. Bennita and Jaz had fifteen minutes’ head start on her. That probably accounted for a few houses, a checking of the bags for goodies, and talking with their friends.
She stepped outside and lifted her face to the moon again. The bad magic was still there, laying heavily over the Halloween magic. And there. Kiki caught a whiff of Bennita’s magic. She hurried on.
Children charged through the streets shouting in their excitement. Kiki visually sorted through fairies, cowboys, superheroes, ballerinas and so many truly original costumes. Her favorite had to be the zombie majorette, shiny baton and all.
There! She spotted the neon green of Jaz’s clown hair half a street down. She ran to catch up, cinching her sheet with her hand so it didn’t get tangled in her legs. They were with a loosely grouped bunch of other kids going from house to house.
“Did you see the Muellers’ house?” she heard Jaz ask Bennita. “They had a cauldron full of candy that their mom was stirring. She looked disgusting in her witch outfit.”
“Yeah,” Bennita responded. “We’ll hit that one on the way back up. I heard the Porters are giving away doughnuts this year.”
“Maybe chocolate glazed, huh?”
Kiki tried to lag behind them to stay unnoticed. She didn’t need to be part of the group, but she wanted to stay close. The stench of a rot drifted by every few seconds, and she knew the source was somewhere nigh.
The kids ran to a house and Kiki started up the steps until she realized she’d forgotten a bag. Crap! Well, she’d just have to hide her arms so people would assume she had one under the sheet. She hung back on the street and watched the shadows while the kids collected their mini-Snickers and Tootsie Rolls.
Kiki wrinkled her nose. She let her eyes wander lazily over the surrounding homes, trusting her subconscious to tell her what was wrong. Her gaze rested on some bushes at the corner of the Johnston house. She sidled over while everyone was busy, and confirmed her suspicions. This was the source of the dark magic invading her neighborhood, endangering them all.
The thing was black, blacker than any black Kiki had ever seen. A chill seeped from it to permeate quite a distance beyond its reach. It had a defined edge to its shape which quivered slightly as she neared. What truly scared her though was to find herself feeling evaluated, appraised, assessed.
“What are you?” she asked.
It’s Halloween. What do you think?
The words came to her covered in oil. And her magic told her what it was. It might manifest itself in many different forms, but this was evil in its truest, visible form. This is what powered the monsters of the world. Lucifer. Jack. Adolf. Pol.
And it was in her world, her neighborhood. “What do you want?” she asked.
Be honest now. You really want to know how to get rid of me. You can’t. Not until I’ve gotten what I came for. Tasty, little morsels of magic. Your magic.
“You can’t have it,” Kiki said.
And you can’t stop me.
A vision of red, a tiny Valentine’s Day heart, bumped her as it ran by. “Sorry, Ghost!”
Of course, their magic is tempting, too. The magic of youth. Sweet, like the treats they collect.
Kiki glanced back and saw Bennita’s group headed this way, taking a shortcut through the bushes to the Dos Santos house. She jumped in front of them, waving her arms and “wooing” like a ghost. “Go around. Go to the street,” she said in a spooky voice, hoping they would be amused and move on.
“What’s this kid’s deal?” asked a pimply, massacre victim drenched in pretend blood.
“Just go around him,” another voice said.
“Move him,” said another.
Kiki could feel the darkness tense, tempted to spring. She needed to get these kids gone before it lost patience.
“Fine,” Kiki said to Blood-Is-Us. “Step in the dog poop. It’s all over in the bushes there. You don’t smell it?”
Bennita spoke up. “I do, guys. It reeks.”
She must be yours. Her magic has the same flavor. Nibble, nibble.
Kiki put her hands on her hips. There was no way this thing was getting its hands on Bennita.
“Just go around,” she said to the trick or treaters.
“God, you’re weird,” said a blonde, little elf girl. “Who are you anyway?”
“Who cares?” said Blood-Is-Us. “Let’s go.”
They began walking around her, except for Bennita, who was lagging behind and stepped too close to the darkness. The monster shot out an oily tendril and grabbed her leg. She froze.
It was rather a blur to Kiki after that, but this thing had her daughter. In immediate response, she called a shift. The shift itself wasn’t important, but the light that came with it was tantamount. Jerome always talked about how bright the shifting light was on the outside, too. The presence was darkness incarnate, and darkness abhorred light.
Uncontrolled, the light burst into being, overwhelming Kiki with an unholy pain ripping through her head. She barely heard the internal screaming or saw the light as she crumpled to the ground. Her body began to melt, or so it seemed, as everything stretched and pulled. Kiki had never called her power like this, and she wasn’t sure she would survive it. Even if she didn’t, she hoped to take the blackness with her.
She came to with Bennita shaking her, trying to wake her up. Kiki huddled on the ground, reveling in the coolness of the earth beneath her. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and she was nauseous. She struggled to her hands and knees to retch.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“Hey, Miss Kiki, do you need a drink?” Jaz asked. “Someone gave us a juice box.”
“That was gnarly.” Kiki recognized the irritating voice of Blood-Is-Us. His whine didn’t help her migraine, upping the pain level to just short of unbearable.
Kiki emptied her stomach and wiped her mouth when she was done. “Is that thing gone?”
She realized her clothes had ripped off of her during the change, but she still had the sheet. Bennita had wrapped it around her like a towel, and it covered her to mid-thigh.
“That gross, black thing? Yeah, when the big light exploded, it got sucked into the ground. Boy, did it stink!” Jaz emphasized by holding her nose.
“Here,” Kiki said. “Help me up. Then help me get home. And I will take that juice.”
“What was that, Mom? And how did you get here? Where did the other kid go?”
“First, Jaz, I’m going to lie down until I can dump this migraine. Then I’ll talk to Benny, and she can tell you.” They’d have to create a good cover story for Jaz.
As she sat sucking the fruit punch flavored juice out of the tiny, square box, Kiki wondered what she would tell Bennita. This was ahead of schedule, and she hadn’t prepared anything yet. She hoped it would come to her like it had always done before.
The real question was how to get home in a sheet with so many parents on the road. Oh, well, she thought with a sigh. It was Halloween.
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Copyright
Copyright © 2012 by the Marion Zimmer Bradley Literary Works Trust
Cover Painting: “The Syracusan Bride” by Frederick Leighton, 1866.
Cover Design Copyright © 2012 by Vera Nazarian
Introduction copyright © 2012 by Elisabeth Waters
A Hunter of the Celadon Plains copyright © 2012 by Deborah J. Ross
The Memory Box copyright © 2012 by Patricia B. Cirone
Grave Gold copyright © 2012 by Jonathan Shipley
Forever Is A Long Time copyright © 2012 by Melissa Mead
They That Watch copyright © 2012 by Michael Spence & Elisabeth Waters
Straw-Spun copyright © 2012 by Leah Cypess
Mahrut’s Road copyright © 2012 by Nathan Crowder
Storm over Taktsang copyright © 2012 by Catherine Soto
Airs Above the Ground copyright © 2012 by Michael H. Payne
Netcasters copyright © 2012 by Layla Lawlor
The Salt Mines copyright © 2012 by Dave Smeds
Strength, Wisdom, and Compassion copyright © 2012 by Julia H. West
Dead Princesses copyright © 2012 by Steve Chapman
The Rising copyright © 2012 by Pauline J. Alama
Ghost Pyres copyright © 2012 by Jonathan Moeller
Jack in Black copyright © 2012 by Linda A. B. Davis
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