"Sure am."
She shook her head. "They'll give anyone a license these days."
I let out a short, derisive laugh. "You're what? Twenty?"
"Twenty three," she snapped. I noticed her hand tighten on the grip of her crossbow.
I felt a headache coming on just thinking about one of those arrows lodged through my eye. "Well, you're no old lady. So you can't use the whole 'these days' thing."
Her lip curled.
"I've been hunting since I was sixteen," she said.
"Wow," I said with a ring of sarcasm. But I really was impressed. I couldn't imagine being a kid, a mortal one at that, chasing after demons and other kinds of creeps. As the son of sorcerers, I'd grown up knowing about this stuff, which made it a little less traumatizing.
She rolled her eyes and started her approach again.
I stepped off the porch to meet her in the center of the front lawn. She tried to sidestep me, but I slid in her way. I held out my hand. "My name's Sebastian."
"Good for you," She dodged left, then zagged right, managing to get around me. She was damn quick.
I turned around and put as much boredom in my voice as possible.
"He's already dead.”
She stopped, looked over her shoulder. "You put down a goblin?"
I shrugged. "So hard to believe?"
"Kinda."
"Well, I am glad I can disappoint you on that score. Fleischhacker is a charred lump of nothing."
She turned all the way to face me. "You got the remains?"
Oops. I'd forgotten about that part. You had to turn in some remains to the Ministry as proof of the kill. "Yeah, I'm going to get my car so I can bring the goods out without drawing suspicion."
Her brow furrowed. "Why? Not like you need a big piece. A hand, couple of fingers maybe. They can tell from that if you did the work. Which I'm getting the feeling you didn't."
I laughed, and I knew it didn't sound convincing. "I'm new at this," I said.
"Obviously."
"Point is, I thought I needed more than that. Thanks for the tip. I guess I can go back in there now and get it."
One corner of her mouth curled up in the evilest of evil smirks. She kind of looked like she was about to eat me.
"No worries," she said. "I'll go in and get it for you."
I held up my hands. "Totally not necessary."
"You're a terrible liar."
I guess Grandpa had been right about that.
She turned on her heel and headed for the front door. I took a few steps after her, but she reached the porch well before I could reach her. She raised her crossbow and reached for the door handle.
"Hey," I shouted. I pulled on my magical energy, focusing on the air, drawing it together in front of me in a sort of mini hurricane. Nothing too crazy, but enough to feel the breeze blow my hair back and chill my skin like an October night.
She ignored me.
Left me with no choice.
I solidified the ball of air, creating an invisible pocket of wind with the heft of a large stone. I hurled it straight at her head.
She jerked forward on impact. Her head collided with the brick facade. She bounced backward, stayed on her feet for a couple seconds, then pitched backward off the porch. Thankfully, she dropped onto the soft grass and not the cement approach. I didn't want to crack her skull open, just knock her out long enough for me to get the Fleischhackers the hell out of there.
I rushed over to her. She still gripped her crossbow, as if her hand had gone into premature rigor mortis. I grabbed her under the arms and dragged her behind the shrubs.
I jogged to my Escort, drove it back, and pulled into the Fleischhackers’ driveway.
Carrie stood just inside the door when I came in. "Who was that girl?"
"She was here to put an arrow or two into your husband. Another bounty hunter."
Her face paled.
I gave her arm a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. Where's Frazier?"
"Here." He came down from the second floor lugging a suitcase nearly as big as him. He didn't show any sign of struggle as he carried it down, though.
"We're not coming back here, are we?" Carrie asked.
Frazier took his wife's hand. “We’ll be fine.”
I reached out to Frazier. "Let me take that.”
He looked like he wanted to object, but he handed the suitcase over without grumbling.
I carried it out to the car, leaving the two of them to give their home one last glance before I led them to an uncertain future.
If circumstances had been less serious, the expression on my grandfather's face would have cracked me up. He stood in the doorway, staring at me and my new companions, his mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. He might as well have been looking at a pig in a tutu.
"Hey, Gramps," I said.
"Sebastian?"
Just my name, but it stood in for the twenty-million questions probably rattling through his brain.
"Can we come in?"
He swallowed, seemed to come to an internal decision, and nodded.
We filed into the living room. Grandpa still had the fire going, though it didn't feel as stuffy as before. Then I noticed the window looking out at the back of the wooded property was cracked a few inches.
That was a big step for Grandpa. I wondered if my visit to him had perked him up a bit. He wore a different set of pajama bottoms that looked slightly less pajama-y. They could have been light cotton pants now that I thought of it.
Hmm.
Maybe I needed to come by more often.
The four of us stood awkwardly in the center of the living room while the fire crackled and made shadows quiver across the ornately woven Persian rug under our feet.
"Please," Grandpa said. He gestured to the available seating—Grandma's chair and the two-person loveseat with patches over spots time and use had worn thin.
The Fleischhackers took the love seat, I sat on Grandma's wingback again, and Grandpa settled into his rocker. It rocked back once, but he planted his slippered feet on the floor to stop it.
He turned his pointed gaze my way.
Time for the pitch.
First thing I did was introduce the couple. Grandpa received them graciously, but his back remained stiff through the whole affair. Unlike me, he didn't seem the least bit surprised the goblin and human were married. Nor did he flinch at the fact that Carrie was carrying Frazier's child.
"Why did you bring them here?" he asked.
"Mr. Fleischhacker here is...was...the goblin the Ministry put a contract on."
"I gathered that."
I gulped down my embarrassment and went on.
"I don't think the Ministry has the facts straight on this one.”
Grandpa raised his gray brows. The wrinkles around his eyes smoothed, and the way the firelight struck his face, he looked a decade or two younger—which wasn't much when you were over six-hundred, but still noticeable. There was a gleam in his eye, too. As if he were...enjoying this?
It was damn hard getting a read on him at that moment.
"You think the Ministry has made a mistake?"
I squirmed in my chair. I got the sense he was testing me, and my answer here would make or break his willingness to help.
I looked at the couple. Frazier was his usual dower self. But the flame's glow complimented Carrie's fair complexion. She really was a stunning woman.
"Yeah," I said. "They've got this one wrong."
"Why do you think so?"
"You don't?" I held a hand out toward them. "Look at them. They're in love. It's freakin' obvious."
Grandpa shrugged. "That doesn't mean Mr. Fleischhacker here isn't guilty of the charges."
Frazier hopped off the sofa, his sneakered feet thumping on the hardwood through the rug. "The charges are bull and you know it, old wizard. I know you know it."
Grandpa broke into a full-on belly laugh. "I'm no wizard," he said. "And you know that, too."
Frazier shrugged and, I couldn’t believe it, actually cracked a smile. "Sorcerer didn't have the same ring to it."
I looked back and forth between them, wondering if I hadn't missed my stop on the train down to crazy town.
"Nice to see you two getting along,” I said slowly. “Does that mean you're going to help, Grandpa?"
Grandpa held up a finger. "If I may have a moment with my grandson in private?"
"Of course,” Carrie said. Frazier climbed back up on the sofa and snuggled in close to her. She took his small hand in hers.
With a creaky grunt, Grandpa rose from the rocker and beckoned me to follow him into the kitchen.
He took me by the elbow and guided me to the far side, over by the stainless steel sink that looked perfectly clean except for the layer of dust on the spigot and knobs.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.
I glanced at the entryway to the kitchen as if I thought the Fleischhackers might have snuck up behind us to listen in.
"Are you?" I asked. "I hardly explained a thing, but you two sounded like old friends."
“Do you trust him?"
I hesitated. “I hardly know him.”
"If you go through with helping this couple, and if the Ministry were to find out, it could spell disaster for you."
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "I'd lose my license before I ever had a chance to use it."
"You could lose more than that. You are aiding a supernatural fugitive. One the Ministry deems fit for execution."
"He says none of his customers died. That the Ministry made that part up or something. I don't know why they'd do that, but I believe him that none of his buyers were hurt."
Grandpa stroked his beard. He took a while before he spoke next, and I waited him out because I could see the wheels turning.
“The Ministry is a political machine like any other. If you want to keep doing their work, you have to accept the flaws in that machine."
A sour taste filled my mouth. "I know the Ministry isn't perfect, but are you saying they're corrupt?"
"I'm saying they aren’t a force to be trifled with. There will be only so many times you can defy them before you end up in the same position as Mr. Fleischhacker."
For the first time, I doubted my newly chosen profession. For the gods’ sake, I had just started, and already I found myself flirting with the Ministry’s bad side. I tried to swallow the knot tied in my throat without much success.
"So, I'll ask again,” he said. “Are you sure you want to do this?"
Despite Grandpa’s clear warnings, I didn’t have to think before I answered. “Yes.”
Grandpa appraised me, his scrutiny a little uncomfortable. “Why?”
Again, I didn’t hesitate. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
Then he smiled. He clapped me on the shoulder. "I think you'll do very well in this business."
I smiled back. I felt like we were kindred spirits. I looked forward to a lot more conversations in front of his fire.
We rejoined the Fleischhackers. "There are many, many others in a similar position as yours. Mortals and supernatural beings persecuted for choices the mainstream looks down on. This is nothing new, of course. Creatures both mortal and paranormal will always judge those different than they. But this also happens to work in our favor."
The doubtful look on Frazier's face could have mirrored my own.
"Not seeing the silver lining here, old man,” the goblin grumbled.
"The silver lining is that this epidemic of bigotry has forced some to create a life outside of that bigotry’s distasteful eye."
"Grandpa," I said slowly. "You kind of sound like Yoda, but with better grammar."
Carrie laughed.
"There is a place where Carrie and Frazier can go and live a life without fear, in a community that will welcome them."
Frazier frowned. "Sounds like a load of hellhound crap."
"A little pie in the sky, I admit," Grandpa said. "But it's no less real. And I know someone who can take you there. Finances won't be an issue. Think of it as a refugee camp, but with superior accommodations."
I saw Frazier tense up, a defiance in his eyes, a natural distrust of something that sounded too good to be true.
Carrie brushed at his temple with the back of her hand, which seemed to relax him.
I stood up and clapped my hands. "Sounds awesome. Let's do this.”
Frazier looked up at his wife. Their silent exchange spoke volumes. I hoped I could someday look at a woman like that, and have her look back at me the same way.
Carrie nodded. "I believe," she whispered.
Frazier smiled. "That's what I love so much about you." He turned to me. "I guess you were right."
"About what?"
"You can help us.”
“Don’t get too sappy on me, or I might have to give you a hu—”
"Quiet," Grandpa whispered with such command the three of us all but stopped breathing. “Someone's here."
"Who?" I asked.
Grandpa closed his eyes. "Six of them. All werewolves."
Frazier clenched his wife's hand, and a shadow of fear crossed his gray-green face.
"Purifiers."
I ran to the front window and snapped on the porch light. The light’s yellow cast didn’t reach more than fifteen yards or so out from the house, and the woods encircling the property held shadows thick enough to hide almost anything.
Grandpa rushed down the hall and out of view. I looked back at Carrie and Frazier. They stood embracing, Frazier’s arms encircling Carrie around the hips. Frazier had a darker version of his usual glower with a clear shot of fear in his black eyes. Carrie absently rubbed her belly with one hand.
“Werewolves?” I asked.
Carrie nodded.
“They’re like a task force for the Purifiers. Brutal.” Frazier jerked his chin toward the window. “They’ll rip us apart.”
“Not while I’m here they won’t.”
Grandpa came back out, this time holding a shotgun and a gleaming sword with a silver blade. He marched toward the couple and held the shotgun out to Carrie. “You know how to shoot one of these?”
She grabbed the shotgun from him without hesitation. “Yes.”
“Good.” Grandpa swung the sword in a lazy circle at his side. He looked awfully comfortable with it. He nodded at me. “You got your big magic ready?”
I focused and pushed my energy down my arms and into my hands. “Ready.”
A second later a terrible series of howls, yips, and cries cut through the night outside. The sound set my teeth on edge.
Grandpa sniffed. “Those are my protection spells. I can practically smell the singed dog fur. But depending how determined they are, they’ll eventually wear out the magic. Nothing out there is going to kill them, I’m afraid.” He did that lazy loop motion with the sword again, rolling his wrist with graceful ease. Even in his pajamas and robe, and with his long white beard and thinning hair, that sword made him look like a total badass. It gave me a glimpse into his past, back when he had hunted the nasties.
He smiled and gave me a wink.
The cries outside stopped suddenly. The silence felt oppressive in the wake of the tortured clamor.
We all stood frozen, exchanging glances, waiting for whatever would come next. I thought about looking out the window again, but I never got the chance.
The window facing the back, the one Grandpa had finally cracked open, exploded inward, a werewolf bursting in through the shattered glass and splintered window frame. Werewolves basically looked like giant regular wolves who walked on their hind legs, had bigger teeth, intense yellow eyes, and claws with six-inch nails that gleamed like metal in the moonlight.
The wolf landed on the floor and didn’t hesitate in its charge. It crouched low, about to spring forward.
The shotgun went off with an ear-ringing roar. The wolf took the shot in the face. The buckshot ripped away patches of its furry mug
and knocked loose some of its teeth. It yelped and danced backward with the force of the shot. But the shotgun had a standard load. Not silver. Which meant the wolf would easily recover. Which it did.
It reared on Carrie with murderous anger in its eyes, the expression made all the more horrifying by its bloody and ravaged face.
Another crash came from down the hall in one of the bedrooms.
Grandpa rushed down the hall in the direction of the sound. I called out to him, but he never looked back. And we still had a wolf to deal with in the living room.
Carrie pumped the shotgun and leveled the barrel at the wolf as it crept toward her.
I glanced at the fire, smirked. “Save the ammo,” I said, then I reached out toward the cracking fire and pulled on the flames with my magic, drawing them like a blazing curtain over the wolf. It screeched as its fur caught fire. It bucked and writhed as the smell of cooking flesh rode the smoke coming off of the beast.
In its struggles, it stumbled backward toward the window it had jumped through and caught the curtains on fire. Then it thumped to the floor and lit up the rug as well.
Frazier pressed his finger against his nose and blew like he had when he’d extinguished the fire I’d held in my hand, which felt like a million years ago. Each puff of his breath blew away the flames the burning wolf was spreading until it finally fell still and lay smoking on the floor.
I heard Grandpa cry out from down the hall. I ran back there without thinking, operating on instinct and a sudden burst of adrenaline. I charged into his bedroom and found him leaning against a wooden chest at the foot of his bed. He sat with the sword in one hand and the other hand clutching at the side of his face. Blood oozed between his fingers.
I rushed to his side. “Grandpa?”
“I’m fine. Better than him.” He pointed the sword at a beheaded werewolf sprawled on the floor, its neck pumping blood into the carpet.
“Nice.” I reached out and took Grandpa’s arm, helped him to his feet. He looked about ready to swoon. I held tight and he steadied himself.
A thunderous boom rang out from the front of the house along with the sound of cracking wood. They had breached the front door.
Grandpa and I bolted down the hall.
Three more weres rushed in through the broken door and went right for Frazier and Carrie. Frazier pressed his finger to his nose and one of the trio flew right back out the door as if yanked by an invisible wire tied around its waist. Its howl trailed away with him.
Full Metal Magic: An Urban Fantasy Anthology Page 21