The Way of the Black Beast

by Stuart Jaffe

  From their ceiling view, everyone in the house craned to see into the portal. Malja watched as a woman wearing a pink dress walked in to the séance and set the green table. She moved faster than normal as if time itself moved differently on that world. The golden-pink hues of sunset cascaded across the floor and a few minutes later night arrived.

  A commotion erupted behind her. Malja turned to find Fawbry being physically moved into the hall by Shotgun and another big fellow. Shotgun had looped a rope around Viper, and the weapon dangled at his side. Fawbry looked tired and frightened but not bruised or broken.

  Cole stepped forward. "Malja, I've watched you grow for many years. I've waited for you to be ready, for you to be able to see this and understand it without fear causing you to ruin this incredible opportunity we have before us. The time has come. Watch closely now."

  "Cole?" Fawbry said, his face lighting up even as Shotgun pushed him toward the glowing frame in the floor. "Cole, honey, it's me. It's Faw-Faw. Remember Faw-Faw?"

  The crowd mocked him, and Cole spoke to them even as she offered Fawbry a solemn glance. "Those days are gone. The Bluesmen came to me so I could build them a way through. We want to do more than just talk to this other world. We want to travel there. We want to live there. Tonight, we may finally succeed."

  Several people now sat at the séance table. They all held hands and one seemed to be chanting. Their jerky, rapid motions would have been comical under different circumstances.

  A dark man in a fine, gray suit sat nearby. He strummed a guitar with a gentle hand. Malja looked around the stage at all the guitarists, all the suits — all learned from this other world. Impossible.

  "This isn't real," Malja said. "If you had this portal, if you had this magic without a magician, you would've left the Freelands long ago. I don't believe this is anything more than a trick."

  "My, my, it seems your pledge to me may not have been all that strong. I'll have to fix my machine. As for the portal — it is very real, and you'll now see our very real problem."

  Shotgun moved Fawbry closer to the frame. "No, no, no. You don't have to do this to me."

  "Watch, Malja. Watch what happens to Fawbry."

  "Cole, my love, don't do this to me. Please."

  "Love? You left me for a pack of griffles."

  Malja said, "Stop this."

  "Relax," Cole said. "We're not sending him through. But you need to see to understand."

  "Let me go," Fawbry said, pulling back but not strong enough to stop them.

  Malja wanted to rush in and save him, but her body had become numb again. She didn't know if she'd be fast enough or have enough control to help. Her thoughts swirled and her head throbbed.

  While the one man held Fawbry tight, Shotgun grabbed his hand and edged him toward the floor. Blubbering, pleading, begging — Fawbry watched as they plunged his hand into the framed hole.

  He howled — a ghastly, chilling cry that caused several in the crowd to flinch. Malja heard the hand sizzle and smelled burning flesh. When they pulled Fawbry back, only a cauterized stump remained. Gray wisps of smoke drifted up like paper-thin tendrils. Fawbry cradled his stump and rolled on the floor. Tears and spit and mucous covered his open-mouthed anguish, but he made no sound.

  Though she tried to be cold and stoic, Cole winced at the few gasps escaping Fawbry. She took a breath, plastered on her faux smile, and said, "Now, Malja, it's time for you to understand just how special you are."

  Two men took hold of Malja and pushed her toward the portal. Her head dipped and her body followed, but the men kept her upright. She yanked her arms back. The men held on.

  Too numb.

  Looking down, she saw the séance magic — silly and frightening at the same time. The men each grabbed one of her feet and the world flipped over. Vomit rushed up and out — burning into nothing as it hit the portal. When Malja finally regained her bearings, she was suspended over the portal frame.

  She couldn't feel her arms and legs — she just floated like driftwood on a lake. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Until they dropped her.

  Her body swung — both men clamped down on her legs — so that her head went in first. The shock to her skin jolted straight to her toes like ice cold water on burning hot skin. The sudden cold reignited her numbed senses, clearing her mind even as it tortured her body.

  She screamed.

  Opening her eyes, she saw those around the séance table staring at her — some amused, some terrified. They moved at a normal pace now. The walls were high like a prison but a tall window showed Malja another world — buildings pressed against each other as wheeled vehicles pulled by horses clip-clopped by. Streetlamps of flame lit the area. Two children smooshed their faces against the window, looking wide-eyed with her.

  A woman dressed in veils and holding a heavy book rose from her seat. Those seated around the table paled and shivered, a few mouths quivering. The guitarist slipped out of the room, muttering a strange prayer not to the brother gods but to a deity Malja never heard of — Geezuz. The veiled woman raised one hand and said, "Oh, Spirit from the Afterworld, long we have tried to meet you, to see you as more than a voice. Oh, wondrous apparition, guide us, please. Show us the way to our greatest fortunes."

  Something pulled at Malja's ankles. Before she could speak, her body receded into the ceiling. And she was back home.

  The band launched into a lively tune, and Cole Watts gyrated and twirled to the music. The entire crowd roared its excitement. People toasted their success and guzzled their drinks. With the change in music, the portal spell collapsed — popping and clicking until nothing remained but an empty frame, the wood floor, and the strong aroma of vinegar. They shoved Fawbry on stage, and Cole danced around him. He held his stump and gazed in the distance like a slave enduring a master's punishment.

  Malja felt the majority of her numbness had vanished. The congested atmosphere closed in on her but she didn't move. She suffered disorientation, and nausea crept up her throat. She waited for it to pass and wondered if after experiencing the portal, it ever would.

  The song finished and Cole, perspiration beading on her skin, calmed the rowdy crowd. "I told you all the truth. I promised you that Malja would be the key, that she alone held the secret within her. Tonight she proved it. Tonight, our sweet Malja safely slipped into another world. Oh my, and will you look at her face. She has no idea. That's okay, dear, soon you very much will."

  "Let Fawbry go."

  "No, no. He's our insurance for your co-operation. Now that I've proved what you can do, I need to study you. I need to figure out the process, so I can build a machine to let all of us travel through. And when we have that, we can access all the wonders that the world has. We can be great powers of this world. Jarik and Callib will bow at our feet, and we shall destroy them. But don't worry. You're far too precious. We'll test the machine on Fawbry first."

  No.

  In seconds, the hall became a tumultuous cavern of violence. Two brutes had closed in on Malja, and she wasted no effort in dispatching them. Blows to the head. Blows to the gut. She fought through the crowd with one focus — save Fawbry.

  Suzu blocked her path. She elbowed his chest, bending him over, locked his head in her arms, kicked back to ward off those trying to sneak up on her, and propelled Suzu like a siege engine tearing apart a tower wall. Three people were knocked aside.

  "Malja, stop," Cole said. "You won't be harmed."

  The fury state had taken over. Malja dodged, attacked, and surged ahead. A battle cry from the stage slashed through the commotion — Willie. He pulled a sword from the neck of his guitar and plodded towards her.

  Watching Willie, Malja never saw the attacker on her left. Two punches to her stomach took her by surprise. She doubled over and saw Viper hanging on a rope — Shotgun. Instead of straightening up, Malja jabbed her elbows skyward. Though her right met only air, her left caught Shotgun with a satisfying crunch. Before he recovered, she tore Viper free and s
wung up to meet Willie's attack.

  The blades clanged and a metal chip flipped through the air, flickering light in all directions. The sound echoed across the hall. The chaos ebbed as the crowd settled, backing up a respectful distance. Malja had experienced this before. The people wanted to watch a show. From the look in Willie's eyes and the strength of his attack, Malja suspected they would put on quite a show indeed.

  Willie ignited a flurry of blows that Malja should have parried with ease — her spinning head and sudden exertions worked against her. Twice she locked his straight sword in the curve of her blade, but could not snap it loose from his hand. They circled, each feigning attacks to feel out the other's counters, waiting for the other to overreach. Malja knew a good fighter when she saw one. Willie took his time, searched with his eyes, moved with grace and agility. He displayed patience and balance. A good fighter — definitely. Perhaps even an excellent fighter.

  Wrapped in her thoughts, she failed to notice he had taken smaller steps for the last few, closing their distance by her own doing. He jabbed forward. When she blocked, he used her power to spin in the opposite direction and land a blunt chop on her side. The hit shocked her. Before she could get over her mistake, he swung through, catching Viper and nearly disarming her. The momentum knocked her off balance and onto the floor. Willie's sword tip caressed her neck.

  "Stop," Cole called out, her voice trembling.

  Malja kept her eyes on Willie as she breathed deep, sweat drenching her face and hair.

  "Malja? You okay?"

  Fawbry? Malja searched for where his voice had come from. Fawbry must have snuck off during the fight. At the same moment as Willie, she found Fawbry, his good hand leveling a handgun at Cole Watts.

  "Malja?"

  "I'm okay."

  Willie helped her to her feet. The cut on her side looked worse than it felt and would hamper her until it healed.

  Fawbry cleared his throat, and in his most powerful voice, he said, "Malja and I are leaving here. Nobody'll follow us. If anything happens, I'll kill Cole. When we feel safe, she'll be set free."

  Willie said, "What about —"

  "No talk. Get three horses ready. Do as I say or she dies."

  "Kill her, then. We got on just fine before she came along, we'll be fine if she's gone."

  Fawbry hesitated. Malja said, "Then we'll shoot someone else until we find one that matters."

  "Come now, Malja," Willie said with a half-cocked grin, "Why do you think I went to the trouble to get you in here?"

  "You want me to kill her? Then why are you fighting me?"

  "You were hacking away at everybody. That, and I needed time to get my men in place. I figured everybody would want to watch us fight. See, Old McKinley is in charge now. Look around."

  Malja, Fawbry, Cole, and many of Cole's supporters surveyed the still room. Willie's men guarded all the exits. Others formed a barrier around the portal frame. Still others occupied key locations should Cole's people try to fight. All of Willie's soldiers were armed, many with guns.

  Willie sauntered onto the stage and retrieved his guitar. With great care, he slid his sword back into the guitar's neck. As he wiped the fretboard with a thin cloth, he said, "I thank you, Malja. We needed you to prove there was a way through the portal, and we needed Cole to show everybody how power-mad she really is. Now we can follow Old McKinley as he learns from your body the magic we will all use to leave this world for one far greater." He kissed his guitar and rested it in its case.

  Malja's lip lifted a tiny fraction. "Let her go, Fawbry."

  "What?"

  "Do it," she said and leveled her icy glare on Willie, "And then pick up Willie's guitar."

  "No," Willie said, moving toward Fawbry. Malja lunged for the stage, hooked Viper around Willie's knee, and the arrogant bastard fell. Fawbry lifted the guitar and held it like a club.

  Malja said, "Anything happens, Fawbry, and you smash that guitar. Then you destroy any others you can get your hands on." She closed in on Willie. "No guitar, no magic. Right?"

  Shivering with impotent rage, Willie grumbled, "Let them go." A path parted toward the front door. "When I see either of you again—"

  "I expect no less," Malja said, as she and Fawbry edged off the stage. To Cole, she said, "You're coming, too."

  Before Cole could move, Willie said, "She stays. Break all our guitars and all our bones. Doesn't matter. Cole stays."

  Malja saw truth in his eyes. He would throw away everything that mattered to him, fight until he lacked the strength to move, all to make sure Cole did not leave the farm. Old McKinley wanted to fondle her no doubt. Besides, politics don't end just because Malja wrecked the place. "Fine," she said. "You're on your own, Cole. I'd say I'm sorry I couldn't help you here, but we both know that would be a lie."

  Cole rolled her eyes. "Just go."

  Backing out, Viper poised for work, Malja and Fawbry exited the hall.

  Chapter 17

  All through the night, they rode. They had to go slowly or else endanger their horses with a nasty fall in the dark, but still they rode. From time to time, Fawbry would look back with anxious jittering eyes. Malja looked back, too. Even after they left the guitar by a tree, they looked back.

  Malja wanted them to follow, wanted them to appear — especially Willie. Every minute they traveled further away, she thought about him. When they stopped by a creek to let the horses rest, she had decided. "I'm going back."

  "What?"

  "You go meet up with Tommy and Tumus. Look after them."

  "You can't go back there. We almost died."

  "I still don't know where to find Jarik and Callib. The City of Ashes is too huge. But Cole Watts knows."

  "Cole Watts is dead."

  "Not yet. She had a lot of supporters. If Willie kills her right away, he'll have a civil war on his hands. He wants to be their leader. So, he's got to convince them first. Rile them up until they only see her death as a release from her tyranny. He'll convince them that doing what he says is true freedom."

  "How do you know what he'll do?"

  "It's what I'd do."

  Fawbry paused for a moment. "I don't believe you," he said finally. "You don't care about Cole. We could find out that information some other way. No, you want to go back because you're ticked off that Willie got the better of you. You want a little revenge."

  "I want—"

  "Go. I don't care anymore. You and your Black Beast and your screwed-up fathers and all of it — I don't care. I'm done with you."

  Malja stayed motionless, her face devoid of expression. She stared at Fawbry until he broke eye contact. He shook his head, mounted his horse, and trotted off. She listened as the dull clops of horse hooves receded in the distance, and only then did she relieve her tension with a drawn-out sigh.

  Fawbry had spoken a fraction of truth — it angered her that Willie had won their conflict. But she had no intention of hunting him down. Not yet. She sought Cole Watts. She sought information.

  Riding back took even longer than getting away. Several times she heard noises and had to hide — Willie and his men might have tried to pursue them or simply patrol the area. Caution was critical. Malja exercised greater patience than she ever thought possible. By the time she edged toward the open compound, the noonday sun blazed overhead.

  Sitting against a large rock, she observed the area through her spyglass. The farm appeared to be running in full force — just another day. Closer to the house, however, the tension ramped up. Willie stood on the porch with fists pressed against his hips like an arrogant general, while Lonnie and three others sat on horses, waiting for orders. Shotgun paced behind Willie, his weapon resting on one shoulder. Suzu flitted about, his energy revealing the true degree of fear simmering. Not Willie, though. No fear there. Just the controlled anger of the true warrior.

  Whenever possible, Malja kept her attention on Suzu — who he talked with, what he might have said, where he went. Suzu was the main lackey. Sure e
nough, at length, he stepped out of the house carrying a tray of food and a glass of water — lunch. He headed for the stables. An armed guard checked over the tray before letting him in.

  Well, well. No office prison for Cole. Malja hunkered down amongst the rocks. For now, she had nothing more she could do until night. Nothing but sit quiet with her thoughts spinning around Fawbry's words.

  * * * *

  She waited until the party grew raucous, until the only people leaving the house were amorous couples seeking dark privacy. Only then did Malja leave her position and scuttle in the shadows toward the stables. The sticky air warned of heavy showers, but the sky harbored only a few clouds. With any luck, the storm would arrive soon. Heavy rains would aid her escape.

  Crouching low, she hurried across open land, stopping when she could press her back against the stable wall. She slid along the wall, reached the corner, and peeked around — still just a single armed guard. She released Viper from its sheath and readied to rush the guard.

  Suzu slammed open the house door. He held a bottle high in the air and stumbled a few steps. "Long live Willie," he said before taking a tumble down the stairs and passing out.

  While the guard watched Suzu, Malja took advantage of the distraction. She acted with swift confidence like a magic shadow stealing in the darkness. The guard never heard her approach, and in seconds, she had him out of view on the side of the stable. She raised Viper but the guard's face stopped her. He couldn't have been much older than Tommy. His eyes pierced her much like Tommy's eyes.

  "Fine," she grumbled and hit the guard's temple with Viper's hilt. He passed out.

  Taking a moment to check the area once more, she noticed the top half of the stall door above her was open. She climbed in. Peeking through the main stall door, she saw Shotgun's empty stool. The guard must have been all they thought they needed — after all, Malja would never dare come back. Not this soon, at least.

  She crept across the stable in dark silence. Cole Watts had been tied to a gate similar to the way the Bluesmen had tied Fawbry and her only days before. She had been allowed to change clothes. Gone was her party dress. Instead, she wore a more practical pair of pants and a dirty men's shirt — clothes for field work. Despite the darkness, Cole's wet cheeks stood out in the cuts of light that broke in from the house.