Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” William said, while ever so nonchalantly destroying two robots’ heads with one ghost spell. A third tried to grab James, but he ducked, slid behind it and then put his ring of power on its head, and the voodoo robot fell lifeless on the tunnel’s pavement. I slashed my katana and killed the last one, before it even had time to react.

  “Well, as Darth Vader would say: ‘that was much too easy’,” I said, hardly repressing a grimace of pain coming from my ribs. I didn’t think anything was broken, thanks to the Rain Man’s armour. Still, I was pretty sure that my entire torso was one big bruise. Thank God, I couldn’t take my clothes off and have a look, or I’d probably freak out.

  “You called that easy?” James responded. “Easy? It’s a miracle we survived! That was high dark magic combined with futuristic technology and…”

  “Incoming, Mr Turner!” Sir William shouted, pointing at a dozen more robots flying towards us from the other end of the tunnel.

  “Run! This way!” James yelled. I obeyed, and ran with His Grace closing the line, throwing giant balls of slime at the robots. Two got trapped in them. But the other ten kept coming. These robots were even worse than the previous ones. They were firing laser guns at us, or something very close to it, which shot beams of green energy that turned whatever it struck into dust.

  “William, you must slow them down, or we’re doomed!”

  “I am trying child, but there are so many! And they move much faster than the others!” He replied, destroying with a spell the head of one robot, while imprisoning two more into a slime bubble.

  “HURRY! TO THE RIGHT!” James shouted, turning abruptly into a larger tunnel.

  “What’s that light at the bottom?” I panted.

  “No idea, but we’re heading in the right direction, I’m sure of it!”

  “Go! I am right behind you!” William yelled, as he responded to the laser attack with more ghost magic.

  The fear of dying boosted my muscles and I somehow managed to accelerate. I was now running alongside James.

  “Something’s wrong, that’s not natural light at the end of the tunnel,” I told him.

  “It’s the right direction, I swear! I feel it!” He yelled back. “And we don’t really have a choice, right?”

  “Right.”

  William could barely keep the robots at bay while we were running; the bottom of the tunnel getting closer and closer.

  “That’s…a reflection?” I panted, as we approached the end of the corridor. “It’s a giant mirror!” I erupted.

  A huge, round mirror was hanging on the wall at the end of the tunnel, covering the opening entirely. It’s beautiful, thick silver frame was perfectly polished, and glowed under the feeble light in a sinister way.

  “There’s a great source of power behind the mirror, I can feel it,” James gasped, almost out of breath. “Okasan’s dungeon could be right behind it.”

  “You think it’s the same mirror we saw in our vision?” I exhaled.

  “Could be. Only one way to find out.”

  “You’re not saying?...”

  “Yes, I am! See you on the other side!” James replied and, jumped into the mirror and vanished.

  “WE MUST GO CHILD!” I heard Will shouting.

  The robots were getting close. There was no time to think, nor was there any other option. I turned to William. He threw one last ball of slime at those mechanical monsters, then we both jumped into the mirror.

  15

  The Mirror Of Illusions

  “Robyn? Robyn, wake up! What if Professor Huge sees you…”

  I slowly opened my eyes and raised my head. Where was I now?!

  It looked like…I was at uni? Attending a lecture? I blinked and looked around. It was definitely my Ancient Greek classroom at Cambridge. And, sitting beside me was a beautiful girl with natural blonde hair who was gently tapping my arm with her little manicured hand, trying wake me up.

  “Uh? Who are you?” I yawned, then blinked again. Yes, it was my classroom: wooden panels, the structure of an amphitheatre, with the professor’s desk at the bottom of the room, surrounded by rows and rows of students’ desks. How on Earth had I ended up there?

  “Who am I?” she said. “You don’t recognise your best friend?!” the blonde tweeted in a gentle, feminine voice. “I’m afraid you really drank too much yesterday evening. Next time we go to Kathy’s place, I’ll totally keep an eye on you!”

  OK, now I remembered. That girl’s name was Clara, and she used to sit beside me in Ancient Greek class. But we had never really talked, only swapped notes a couple of times. She was a super-popular girl who had better things to do than talk to me…or maybe not? Maybe I was just confused.

  After all, a girl doesn’t call you her ‘best friend’ for nothing, right? I rubbed my eyes and straightened up, making my back adhere to the backrest and did my best to focus on the lesson: Professor Huge was translating Herodotus on the blackboard. He taught Ancient Greek to undergraduates, but was also head of the Ancient Greek and Ancient History post graduate department, where I wanted to apply, to get my PhD…no, I had already applied and been accepted, but was forced to drop out because my weird abilities had suddenly come back…

  “What’s wrong? You all right?” Clara whispered, kind and concerned.

  “Nothing, just a headache,” I replied, realising that my head felt as if it was about to explode.

  “Well, no worries, it’s just a hangover! You need a coffee ASAP!”

  “I think so…” I nodded. It was all so weird. I was pretty damn sure that I had just dreamt that I had some sort of paranormal powers, and was fighting magic-fuelled robots underground, helped by two people, or so I thought. I couldn’t really remember their faces anymore. Well, that was my lesson for drinking too much at a friend’s birthday party! I furrowed, doing my best to concentrate on the lesson.

  Ten minutes later, the bell rang and we were out.

  “Now, let’s go to the cafeteria and get you a coffee. A TON of coffee! You need it badly!” Clara mocked me, pushing me through the old building’s corridor until we reached the cafeteria.

  The place was in a grand, wood-panelled eighteenth century hall, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and ancient oil paintings portraying famous professors and prominent alumni of the past. It was early lunch time, and it had just started filling up with hungry students, still holding books and notepads under their arms, while chatting with each other about the latest class or university gossip.

  The moment we entered, Clara waved her hand at two guys sipping tea in front of a window that overlooked the university’s park.

  “Look who’s here! Alex and John! Hey guys!” she sing-sang.

  Hearing her voice, both guys turned to us: one was a handsome boy with natural blonde hair, just like Clara’s, who didn’t look older than nineteen, maybe twenty. The other one was John. He was right there, smiling at me, the morning sun dancing on his light brown hair. How was that even possible? We weren’t together anymore, we had broken up nearly a year before! John was eight years my senior, and already a very established logistic engineer when I had met him. He hung around my university because he worked with a lot of the professors of the Archaeology department, being in charge of supervising the logistic of a number of active archaeological sites all over Europe. He helped them “dig things out of the ground, without being buried themselves,” as he used to joke. That’s how we met: I was helping my Greek archaeology professor prepare for a big expedition to a site near Athens. Everything was supposed to be ready to go in three months, but we were already very much behind, so he had asked John’s help. And we got introduced. He was tall and handsome and funny. A mischievous light appeared in his grey-green eyes, every time he was about to tell a joke. We had then gone to Greece together, falling madly in love with each other. A few months later, we had moved in together and were happy until…until, what?

  “Hey Rob, how are you doing?” he said, striding
towards me. He hugged me and kissed me on the head.

  “No,” I replied, with a smile. “How are you doing?”

  “I’ll never understand you two,” Clara commented, as her Alex kissed her on the cheek. He was, if possible, even blonder than her. “Instead of kissing like boyfriend and girlfriend, like everyone else,” she mocked us. “You keep doing this ‘how are you doing’ thing…”

  “We like it!” John replied. “We’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but also friends!”

  He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me gently against him while Alex went to get us coffees. John was being kind and affectionate, but there was something…something wrong. Was he really my friend? Somehow, there was a voice shouting inside me: “NO! HE’S NOT YOUR FRIEND!” but it was feeble and in the distant background. I could barely hear it. I didn’t want to listen to it, anyway.

  “And coffee it is!” Alex said, back with a tray covered with steaming mugs.

  “Great! Let’s grab a sit!” Clara suggested, enthusiastically. And so we did.

  “Good morning sweetheart,” John whispered in my ear, while wrapping his muscular arm around me. I opened one eye, still half asleep.

  “Morning. Slept well?”

  “I always sleep splendidly, when you’re by my side, Rob.”

  I turned to him with a big smile on my face. Here, in his tiny one bedroom flat, with a stunning view over the river Cam. That was where we lived together until…until what? We were still living together, no doubt about that!

  “Something wrong?” he asked, kissing me on my forehead.

  “Nothing, really. I’m just having these weird dreams lately…” I replied. The sunshine was coming boldly through the big windows in John’s living room where we had slept, using his comfy sofa bed, his bedroom didn’t have a river view and waking up at night and seeing the stars mirrored in the river was priceless. I wanted to experience it always. As long as I could, at least…

  “What time is it? Is it late?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “What do you care?” he replied. “We’re on holiday, it’s summer time!”

  Summer time! Just my favourite time of the year in Cambridge!

  “So, we have the whole day for us! What would you like to do?” he asked cheerfully, giving me a loving look.

  “I…did we ever break-up?”

  “We? No, never! Why would we?”

  “It’s just…” was the headache coming back? Would I ever get rid of that damn hangover? “It’s just that, I think I’ve dreamt something last night. Not pleasant.”

  “What was it about?”

  “I dreamt that…we broke up. I came back from a PhD lecture one day, and you were gone, your stuff was all gone, and seeing your wardrobe empty felt weird, and…sad. You just left me a message, telling me you were getting married to Mary-Ann.”

  “Goodness me, that’s absurd! Who was that girl, by the way?”

  “I…think she was your fiancée. She lived elsewhere, far away. But we dated, anyway, in the dream. I didn’t know what was going on at first, then I was so in love with you that I couldn’t stop…gosh, my head’s killing me!”

  “You really weren’t designed to drink, Rob!” he laughed. “A little booze and you get massive headaches and absurd dreams! Why on Earth would I dump you to marry another?”

  “Because she was…normal. Not like me. I was weird. And you didn’t know, but I had some sort of super-powers and…” I closed my eyes and started massaging my temples.

  “Enough nonsense!” he erupted, taking me into his arms. “I totally dig weird, I LOVE WEIRD!” he kissed me. “Why on Earth would I break up with you and marry some girl with a stupid name? Plus, I know you have super-powers and I’m totally OK with it!”

  “I…I have super-powers?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Sure! You have the power to give me a hard-on just by looking at me!” he said, wagging his eyebrows at me.

  “Oh, John! Come on!”

  “See? You did it again! I’m so glad you cannot control it!” he laughed and kissed me passionately.

  After a long love-making session, we went punting on the river. John was good at rowing, so we didn’t need to hire a guy to do it for us. Which meant we were alone all the time. Once we left the town centre and got more into the countryside, we enjoyed the beautiful landscape in peace, watching white clouds running against the blue sky, loud ducks following us to get bits of our picnic, and many birds, including seagulls, flying above us and filling the air with their cheerful cries. Summer was there, it had boomed and bloomed with its flowers, its heavy scents, and its promises of perfect happiness.

  We stopped and had our picnic sitting in a glade, near the river. We fed the ducks and laugh at them under a giant willow tree, shading us from the bright sun. When was the last time we had such glorious days in Cambridge? I knew it was summer, but we were still in England and Cambridge was one of the dumpiest areas of the UK! Having such a warm day was real luck. Or maybe not. The following day was as bright as the previous one. We made love. A lot. Then we had a wonderful lunch in a pub whose sign was almost completely covered with red flowers. Then we went to the Fitzwilliam Museum for the tenth time, to see one of my favourite paintings ever: The Annunciation by Domenico Veneziano.

  We met Clara and Alex for dinner, then we went to another pub with a view over the river. The night was so warm, that I didn’t need my jacket at all, although I was wearing a rather light, sleeveless pink dress. There were no mosquitos either, in spite being so warm and we being so close to the river. There were fireflies, though. So many, dancing around us, as if to celebrate our love.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I muttered, watching the moon mirrored in the water, John’s arm around me and all those fireflies competing in brightness with the stars.

  “It is,” he replied. “But it would be nothing without you.”

  “Oh, you’re silly…”

  “Nope. I’m in love!” he said, kissing me on the forehead.

  I hugged him, lost in my bliss. But not so lost, that I couldn’t notice one firefly behaving differently from the others: It was brighter, for a start, and it moved faster. It flew to me and stopped in front of my very eyes, as if it wanted to draw my attention or something.

  “Don’t you think it’s getting cooler?” John said, putting my jacket around me. “We’d better get inside.”

  “Uh…I’m not cold, really.”

  “Yeah, sure, you’re never cold. You stay out, until the symptoms of a massive flu start kicking in…” he joked.

  I smiled and followed him inside.

  The following day was another perfect day, and so was the day after. I was just happy and filled with joy. It literally got better and better: I was caught in a carousel of lovemaking, laughing, talking for hours, and fancy dinners, and parties, and long, romantic walks hand in hand.

  It was impossible to keep track of time, impossible to tell how many perfect days were chasing each other in front of my incredulous eyes. Still, no matter how exhilarated I was, deep, very deep down inside me it felt as if something was missing. But every time I started concentrating on that sensation, my head started aching. John mocked me every time I mentioned it, dismissing me with the usual joke.

  “I don’t really know…I feel like I’m missing something…”

  “I’d say you miss a drink, but it can’t be, considering the horrible effects alcohol has on you!”

  “We'd better hurry or we'll be late for Clara's birthday!" John said, wearing a tuxedo and fidgeting with his bow-tie, standing in front of the mirror in our living room.

  "I'm almost ready, just need to give my make-up a final finishing!" I replied from the bathroom, carefully coiffing my hair into a bun and then applying my favourite lipstick. Its label read "deep, wild red." I blinked and, for a second, wondered if I was the type of girl who wore deep, wild red lipstick. Actually, was I the type of girl who wore lipstick at all?

  "Rob, can you help me with this
damn thing, please?" John shouted from the living room. I went and saw that he was still battling with his bow-tie, still in front of the mirror: Just underneath it, I noticed a wooden shelf where sat an elegant glass vase filled with fresh flowers. Was it a new addition to the furniture, or had it already been there? Not really sure, but it reminded me of something…

  “Here I am, let me do this,” I said, raising on my toes to reach his muscular neck and knot his messy tie. “I see you bought me flowers, that was so sweet of you!”

  “Flowers? What flowers?”

  “Well, those in the vase…have you smoked a cigar?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Are you sure? You do smoke one once in a while, just like…Uncle Terry.”

  The second I said the words “Uncle Terry,” a waterfall of questions poured into my head. How was he? Was he alright? Let’s hope he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like coming to search for me, that would be dangerous…

  “Why?” I said out loud.

  “Why what? Thanks for the tie, anyway,” John replied, smiling.

  Why would it be dangerous for him to come to me? I was in Cambridge, safe and sound, living with my boyfriend…I turned to the flowers again.

  “Rob, what’s wrong with you? Getting all weird now, when we need to go? We’re already late, Clara will be quite upset!”

  A crystal vase with fresh flowers. I had seen this one before…in someone’s office maybe? It reminded me of someone, somehow. The smell of a burning cigar got stronger. That was the very type of cigar Uncle Terry smoked in our library every Sunday, after having watched the match. The scent of tobacco was so strong, that it lingered into the room until the following Wednesday and…wait. Was I actually living with Terry? In London? Maybe I was. Maybe he was very worried for me and waiting for me to come home…yes. Let’s hope he’d stay home with my dog without doing anything stupid, like coming to search for his supernatural freak niece…