by A. J. Menden
I headed toward the apartment that was London’s. No matter what I had told Cyrus and Mindy, I’d purposely teleported myself one floor below, so I could get my bearings and not leap directly into the fray. No one was roaming the hallways on this floor, so I went to the stairwell and pushed open the heavy door.
It clanged shut behind me, the bang echoing off the concrete walls, and sickly fluorescent lighting did nothing to help the ambience. I headed up the stairs, keeping a wary eye out. I heard someone walking around above, but they disappeared out of the stairwell and into the complex. I shrugged and gently pushed open the door to London’s floor, giving a quick glance out before entering the hall.
“So, why are you calling her, then?” a woman shouted, and it was then that I noticed a couple standing at the end of the hallway.
“It wasn’t anything! Why are you making a big deal about it?” the man yelled back.
They continued fighting as I walked to London’s door, still on my guard. Seemingly, the only people around were the bickering couple, but the hair on my neck was still standing on end.
I knocked once, then a bit louder so London could hear me over the argument. I glanced over at the angry couple, who now seemed to be in some sort of embrace. “That was fast,” I muttered, and took advantage of the silence to knock again.
There came movement from inside the room. Was London really in trouble? What if an assailant/murderer had already shown up? What if someone had already used the Afieral spell on her? Why had I wasted time talking to Cyrus and Mindy?
I was about to blast the door off its hinges when I could hear the sounds of turning locks. The door opened to reveal an extrapale London. “You came.” She looked shocked, but her voice betrayed nothing.
“Well, yeah. You called. You screamed in my head, to be more precise.”
She winced. “Sorry about that. I panicked.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”
“Thanks. Nice neighbors you’ve got here,” I said as I passed.
I gave a quick look around her place. Standard cheap apartment: a medium-size living room, a hallway that likely led to a kitchen, another that likely led to the bedroom and bath. London seemed to go for the minimalist approach; she had a couch against one wall, a television against the opposite and not much else. The back of the room was probably designed to be the dining area, considering the light fixture that purposely seemed to hang low to light a table, but there was nothing but a small bookshelf with a few books.
Considering I could see most of the small place from where I stood and I sensed no particularly strong emanations of evil magic, it seemed a safe assumption that no Dragon cult members were lurking about. There couldn’t be that many places for them to lie in wait, not in here. So, maybe there was no trap and I was just being superparanoid.
Yet, how much of a coincidence was it that I’d gotten Howard’s call and fought the cultists at the same time Hacker had come out with his message? Then London gives me a distress signal when I’m probably the absolute last person she would naturally turn to for help? No. There weren’t enough coincidences in the world for that to be possible.
“Oh, yeah, the neighbors. Never a dull moment.” London gave me a wan smile as she shut the door. I listened for the sound of turning locks but didn’t hear any. So, at least I wasn’t locked in. Maybe she’d thought that would raise suspicion.
She seemed extra fidgety, like she was on edge after drinking one too many espressos. She seemed to be unable to look me in the eye.
“So, who is he and what does he ‘know that you know’?” I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter. There was no sense dancing around, making small talk and waiting for the trap to be sprung. I was ready to deal with whatever was coming.
London winced at my directness. Too bad. I didn’t want to play games with her, watch her hem and haw around. “It’s about that guy, the Hacker that transmitted those messages earlier this morning. Him.”
I nodded, not wanting to wait any longer. “Go on. So, who is it?”
She hesitated. I ground my teeth. She’d started this, taken the situation this far, and now she didn’t want to spill? What the hell was she playing at?
“Goddamn it, London, tell me what you know!” I exploded. I made sure to put a bit of magic in my exhortation, too. The light fixture at the back of the room rattled, and the room’s illumination brightened and dimmed. London’s eyes darted to and fro. She looked paler than usual, if that was even possible.
“It’s Dylan,” she blurted. “Dylan’s the Hacker.”
I stared at her in shock. “Dylan? Our Dylan? From the bar?” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “He’s nothing to be scared of. He isn’t smart enough to make any sort of take-over-the-world plans, and even if he is, he isn’t powerful enough to pull them off. There’s no way he’s powerful enough to scare you like this . . .” I stared her down. “Or to kill Howard in cold blood.”
Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. “He’s killed Howard?”
I shrugged, acting nonchalant and unaffected though I felt anything but. Better she think I was still above that kind of thing.
“Howard called me earlier, panicking. Much like you,” I said, frowning. “And then he was dead and there were a few of the Dragon’s men showing up.” I cocked my head. “Anything you want to tell me, London?”
London blanched. “No. But if Howard’s dead, I’m surely next.”
I laughed without mirth. “Jesus, listen to you people! It’s Dylan! For God’s sake, Dylan couldn’t cast a high-level spell if his life depended on it. He’s never shown any sort of techno magic that I’m aware of.” At the same time I made a mental note to ask Cyrus later. With luck he was listening in on this conversation back at EHJ headquarters, taking the initiative and looking up everything to be learned about the guy. Because, as much as I was blowing smoke, it was beginning to sound like I didn’t know Dylan as well as I thought.
London shook her head forcefully. “You don’t understand. He’s different now, Fantazia. He’s hooked up with some really scary people. Powerful people. They’ve boosted his magic a hundredfold.”
“Someone’s helping Dylan grow stronger? Who? Why would anyone do that?”
“I-I don’t know. All I know is that it’s happening.”
“Well, all I know is that I’m going over there to hurt him—badly,” I said. Then: “Portami da Dylan.”
I cast the spell to take me directly to him, but nothing happened; I was somehow blocked. Someone was taking high-level precautions, and I was willing to bet it wasn’t Dylan. His mysterious benefactors had great power at their disposal.
London saw the shock on my face and realized, “You can’t get to him. They’re protecting him, aren’t they? You can’t find him, he’s hiding somewhere where nothing can detect him. He just shows up when he wants to take someone’s power. They’ve somehow gifted him with techno-mage powers, which I didn’t even know was possible. You know as well as I do that he never used to be able to cast that kind of spell, but he can now. He can now . . .”
Tears welled up in her eyes, which was scary in and of itself. I’d never seen London cry.
“I was with Joseph’s brother when Dylan came for him,” she continued. “W-we’d been seeing each other for a while. It was even starting to get serious. Poor Johnny.”
I know my mouth dropped open at that. London and Johnny? The Victorian Goth queen who never smiled and the most happy-go-lucky Brother of Power? No way!
Her body was racked by sobs. “He didn’t stand a chance. We were at his place when Dylan showed up. Alone. Dylan took Johnny out alone—one of the Brothers of Power for God’s sake! He took him down without so much as an eyeblink. Just said a few words and everything in the room—the television, the CD player, the video game system, hell, probably even the microwave and the toaster oven—everything just seemed to be draining him. His magic, his life, everything.”
She made a small keening noise. “It was horrible. And I was ju
st paralyzed, I couldn’t do anything to help him or to stop Dylan. He just stepped over Johnny’s body when he was done and came at me, grabbed me by the hair.” She shuddered. “I thought for sure he was going to rape me or something, but he just held me so that I had to look him in the eyes and he said, ‘Bet you wish you were nicer to me now, don’t you?’ When I said yes, he laughed and let me go. He said he was going to let me go for old time’s sake and to show he had some mercy—at least for now. But he wasn’t going to be as generous with everyone. And he didn’t want me to tell anyone.” She twisted the skirt of her long dress in her hands. “Johnny’s still in a coma and no one expects him to ever come out of it.”
“Well, it sounds like you were lucky he didn’t drain you, too,” I said, still waiting for the shoe to drop, for her to spring the trap. “Why do you think he let you go, London?”
Her eyes darkened, as if she realized that I didn’t wholly believe her and was playing along for some other purpose. “Why do you think, Fantazia?”
“I think he left you alone so that he could use you later. Like, for luring an unsuspecting and very powerful acquaintance into a trap by begging and groveling for her help.” I flashed an evil smile. “Because you believe there’s no way I could resist groveling.”
All the fire remaining to London seemed to leave her. Her body visibly sagged, and she nodded. “You’re right. But you know that already, don’t you? You always know everything. You’re always right, Fantazia.” She said the last with bitterness.
I shrugged. “It’s a gift.” Though not always a happy one.
London looked me in the eye. “Well, you’re right. He finally got to me. Got to my family, to be more precise. He said he’d kill my sister and my niece and nephew if I didn’t trick you. My niece is three, and my nephew’s just a baby. I couldn’t let him hurt them, Fantazia. I had to do what I could to protect them. I know you don’t understand that, but—”
“Oh, I understand all right,” I snapped. “Dylan wants to kill me to prove how big and bad he is, and he’ll use anyone he can to do so. I get it. I’m the biggest and baddest, so naturally I’m a target. If I wasn’t, I think I’d feel slightly insulted.”
She shook her head. “If he had his way, he’d leave you alone. That’s what he said, at least. He’d stay far away from you. But it’s not him in charge, I guess. He said one of his associates needs you and he has to fulfill his end of the bargain. I’m just the go-between.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “The Dragon?” What did the Dragon need with me?
“I-I don’t know who. Dylan never said.”
London reached out a hand, and I took a step back to stay out of her reach. She looked hurt, but too bad. You don’t get to set me up and then get all touchy-feely afterward because you’re guilt-ridden.
“I don’t know if you’ll believe me or not, but I’m sorry, Fantazia. I truly am. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want my family to be safe.”
“You’re right, London. I don’t believe you,” I said. “But I always knew everyone’s out for themselves.”
For a moment I thought she was going to cry. Then I heard the door open behind me, and I whirled to see who’d come in. The couple arguing in the hallway now stood there, smiles on their faces and the Dragon’s brand on their arms. So it looked like the Dragon had decided that he needed my specific magic for his nefarious plan.
I glanced at London, keeping my back to the wall. “You were worried about Dylan and his cronies, London, but did you ever worry what would happen if you crossed me?” Her eyes went wide, and I could tell that she was just realizing she’d made a powerful enemy if I made it through this. She’d better hope I didn’t.
I turned dismissively away from her, illustrating how little a threat she was in my eyes. Instead I focused on the cultist couple. “I suppose you two are going to try to steal my magic for the glory of your boss?”
The woman shook her head, surprising me. “Nothing of the sort. You are needed elsewhere. We were called to bring you in.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Bring me where, exactly?”
“To see our boss. Well, one of them, anyway,” said the man. “Your presence has been requested. It would be better for everyone if you came willingly.”
“And if I don’t?”
He smiled, an expression of cold malice. “We were told to bring you in alive. It wasn’t specified that you be unharmed—or that your little EHJ friends are to be left unharmed. I don’t think our boss will mind if we mess with them. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Especially that sweet little girl?”
I bristled but tried not to show it. I wasn’t going to let them know they had anything on me. And yet, here clearly illustrated was another reason why I should never enjoy friends or family and should keep people at a distance: it’s harder to be leveraged with innocent victims and hostages when you’ve shown little affection for the human race.
I returned the male cultist’s malicious smile. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere with you willingly.”
He glared at me hatefully.
I turned to address both of them. “If you want me, you’re going to have to work for it. It sure as hell isn’t going to be easy to take me anywhere against my will, especially not alive. And there’s no way you two are going to be able to do it on your own.”
“Oh, we know that. And we’re prepared.” The woman snapped her fingers. “Boys!”
A portal opened and people began pouring out. There were too many to count, and they were rapidly filling up the tiny apartment. London shrank back in fear, sobbing. I found myself not caring what happened to her at the moment.
“This is so not good,” I said to myself—and to Cyrus back at the EHJ headquarters. “There are way too many of them and there’s no space to fight.” Looking at the group amassing in front of me, I commanded, “Tornate indietro.”
The Dragon’s minions staggered back as if shoved by an unseen force, but more were coming at every moment. The group behind pushed everyone forward.
“Abbiate paura,” I called out, and several fell to the floor, weeping and shrieking in fear. I threw a shock spell at others, and an earthquake caused the floor to shake and knock a surging group off their feet. Things rattled all over London’s apartment. The books on the shelf toppled to the floor. But there were still enough cultists to surround me.
Someone launched a shock spell. I threw up a shield just in time but was still rocked backward by the force of it. Someone made a grab for me, and I managed to throw my own version of shock spell at them. Then another spell struck, some sort of drainer. It hit my shield and weakened it severely. Someone else’s arm lunged out to try to capture me. I dodged, but barely. It was getting too hard to defend and attack at the same time and still stay out of grasp. Where was Cyrus? Hadn’t he heard that I needed help?
Someone grabbed me by the arm then and I snapped, “Bruciate.” They pulled their hand back with a shriek, but not before I saw their blistered and burned hands. Served them right. But, hard as I was fighting, the odds were stacking up against me. I had to get out of there.
“Aprite il portale,” I said, but no portal opened before me. My momentary shock caused my defenses to weaken again, and someone hit me with some sort of spell that I couldn’t readily identify. It tingled and burned at the same time, a strange white-hot feeling that suffused my left side, mostly my arm and shoulder. The whole arm went numb. I hissed.
The woman from the hallway grinned. She was the one who had thrown the spell, and the little bitch was so going to pay for it.
“We’ve already locked down this floor,” she said. “No one can teleport in or out. So sorry. And just so you know, even if you do manage to escape, I just put a tracer on you. No matter where you go, sweetie, we can still find you and take you to our boss. So you might as well give up now. Make it easier on us, but more especially on you.”
I had to get out of there. I wasn’t going to be caught by these freaking cultists. No
way. For starters, my reputation would be totally ruined. Secondly, I wasn’t ready to die. Not when I had things to explore with Cyrus. Things I hadn’t felt in many years.
I gave a quick look around the room for a means of escape. There wasn’t much. There seemed to only be one way in or out of the place, and that was the front door. London lived in an apartment with no windows, unless she was hiding one in the bedroom, and I didn’t feel like fighting in there to find out. So, the door was my best bet. It wasn’t too far away from me, but there were still enough people blocking the entrance to make it seem miles away. Yet, it was my only shot. If I could get away from this room, then I could get to another floor and get the hell out of here.
I faced the nearest cultist between me and the door and narrowed my eyes. Time to play hardball. “Non puoi respirare,” I told him. He dropped to the floor, face turning purple. It wasn’t a nice spell, cutting off someone’s oxygen like that, but these people weren’t exactly trying to be my pals. Maybe they’d start expending their magic trying to help their friends.
I looked at the next person and did the same thing. Unfortunately, the flood of bodies didn’t seem to ebb. Someone punched me in the back of the head hard enough that I saw stars. I dropped immediately to the floor next to my victims, and as my spells broke they began gasping for breath. It hadn’t been long enough for them to die. I suppose that’s a good thing. Probably. My father once would have said it is.
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs but didn’t have time to try the spell again. Someone else tried to grab me. I smacked their hand away, but this time a cultist grabbed me by the hair and pulled me to my feet. I hissed in pain as they pulled me back from the door. And I had made so little headway!
Suddenly the door to the apartment flew open and Cyrus joined the fray, punching the two nearest cultists in the face, who both dropped to the floor, blood spraying from their shattered noses. It distracted the man holding me enough that I could kick backward, hitting his knee. He howled in pain and let go of my hair.