Twisted Sister of Mine (Overworld Chronicles)

by John Corwin

  Attacking the shape changer head-on seemed the wrong approach. True, I might be strong and fast, but this guy wasn't exactly solid. If he could inflict pain through touch, he could probably incapacitate me. Bella had told me his kind ate people. I shuddered at the thought. She'd never found out much more about Bigglesworth's species. Knowing his weaknesses would have been dandy right about now. As usual, I had no choice but to improvise.

  "So, guvnah, what's it gonna be?" Bigglesworth's mouth stretched inhumanly wide. "More pain, or will you tell me and let me go on my merry way?"

  The other man shuddered violently, coughs racking his body.

  As Bigglesworth chided and threatened the man, I thought furiously about how to get rid of the shape shifter once and for all. The only destructive spell I knew wasn't really supposed to be destructive—it was supposed to light a candle. Instead, I usually ended up launching fireballs. I had to pretend Bigglesworth was a candle and see what happened. It sounded simple enough in my head. All it required was a bit of focus.

  With Doughboy's attention solely on his captive, I switched to incubus sight and drew in magic. I flinched as the energy swelled against my reservoir, stretching it. I pressed my lips together, glared at Bigglesworth, and imagined him as the biggest, nastiest candle I'd ever seen. I pulled out the practice staff Shelton had given me, clasped it in both hands, and with a concentrated effort of will, flicked the knobby end toward my target and shouted, "Hadouken!"

  A ball of blue flame the size of my head streaked from the wand like a comet. Bigglesworth looked up in surprise at my shout and flung up a hand as flames engulfed him.

  "Yes!" I shouted, pumping a fist.

  The flames washed over the shape shifter and splashed against the wall behind him. Cherry-red lava dribbled down the wall, puddled at the bottom. Bigglesworth didn't have a mark on him.

  "If it ain't me old buddy, Justin," he said in his Cockney accent. He smiled. "I'm almost glad that ruddy golem didn't blow you up, mate." His lips stretched grotesquely wide. "I'm gonna enjoy tearing you to little bits meself."

  Chapter 15

  I stared in stunned silence at the undamaged Bigglesworth.

  "You look surprised, guvnah." The shape shifter didn't walk so much as he flowed across the space between us in an instant, his feet slithering along the floor like snakes. His arm stretched like rubber, flashing toward my neck.

  I leapt away. My back slammed against the wall opposite the door. His fist nicked my face and crushed the stone next to my ear like a sledgehammer. I blurred right to avoid him. He glided into the hallway.

  I tried to bind him with the same ethereal bindings I'd used to save me and Shelton from the Gloom and flung my hands toward the shifter. Glowing lines swept toward Bigglesworth, wrapping around his form. The moment they touched him, the magical bonds melted to nothing.

  "What the hell?" I shouted.

  Bigglesworth gave me an evil grin, his mouth stretching horrifically wide and displaying a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. "I'm gonna enjoy eating you, mate. I'll bet you're just chock full of vitamins and minerals."

  "Yeah, right, Doughboy." I shot back. "I'm gonna go Betty Crocker on your doughy ass." I summoned more energy and flung another fireball at him.

  The shifter didn't even flinch as it washed over him. "You ain't too bright, guvnah." He stalked toward me, arms stretching wide to block the hallway. "Or maybe you ain't figured out magic don't affect me."

  "Say what?" I backed away, clueless about what to do next.

  Bigglesworth giggled like a schoolboy. "Ain't too many who knows about my kind. A fact I find very useful."

  I glanced behind me as he spoke. The dead end loomed closer. Unlike the opposite end of the hall, this one had no portcullis, or way out. An open door to my left appeared to lead into a room similar to the one where Bigglesworth kept his victim. Somehow, I had to get past this thing. I dashed toward him. Feinted left. Dodged right. The flesh on his arms splayed like nets, completely blocking the hall. I smacked into the trap, the fleshy material stretching against my body. Fiery agony erupted in every cell where my skin touched his.

  Before I could twist free, the netted flesh snapped shut like a Venus fly trap. I cried out in desperation, summoned all my energy, and directed a blast of fire. The fireball passed through him without harm and blasted into the ceiling. Molten stone splashed down. I was sure some of it landed on me, but the volume of pain inflicted by Bigglesworth overwhelmed everything else.

  The shifter suddenly wailed in an inhuman voice. He writhed and twisted, slinging me away. I slid down the hallway and slammed against a wall. Dazed, but desperate not to be the creature's next meal, I staggered to my feet. Where the molten rock had landed on Bigglesworth, his flesh smoked and steamed.

  He snarled. His body melted like a wax figurine, forming a white, featureless puddle of goo. The doughy mass flowed toward me, cresting like a wave and blocking the entire hallway. A huge mouth formed in the center, chomping and biting like a rabid dog straining to break through a pair of sheer yoga pants. My back pressed to the wall. I couldn't run. Magic wouldn't work. Punching wouldn't do a thing.

  I was doomed.

  And then I remembered the molten rock. It had hurt him, or at least made him really mad. Magic might not directly hurt Bigglesworth, but what about indirectly? I clenched my fists. Focused and drew in more energy—or tried to. As my incubus senses took in my surroundings, all the magical energy dried up like morning mist under a hot sun. Even with the thrum of major ley lines pulsing beneath the castle, every time I tried to draw energy toward me, it vaporized.

  My gut instinct told me the shifter was somehow doing it. I had no idea how full my fuel tank remained. At this point, it didn't matter. I had to use whatever was left. Flicking my staff toward the floor in front of the shifter, I unleashed another fireball. It exploded, spraying red-hot magma into the wall of flesh. The gaping mouth in the undulating wave screamed, but didn't stop coming. I shot another fireball and another. One exploded on the left wall, the other on the right. Bigglesworth cringed from the spray of molten stone, but he couldn't avoid the splashes. Despite the damage, he still came, relentless as a vampling. Panic raced through me. My heart jackhammered against my chest. I didn't want to think about what would happen if this monster engulfed me like a Justin burrito.

  Sweat dripped into my eyes and exhaustion sucked the energy right out of me. I knew then I must have burned through my magical reserves. I might have one more burst left, and that was it. But how in the hell could I focus more damage on him? I'd practically made him wade through molten rock. And then it hit me. I would have face palmed at my stupidity, but didn't have time. Bigglesworth was less than ten feet away.

  Drawing every last reserved of strength, I shouted, "Hadouken!" with as many exclamation marks after it as possible and slashed the staff at the ceiling just in front of the charging wave of flesh. Globules of red-hot rain spilled down, some of it hitting my clothes and exposed skin. A sizzling blob splashed right into Bigglesworth's mouth.

  The flesh crackled and blackened, creating a nearly indescribable stench, like burning hair mixed with sewage and lavender soap. The only thing that could have made it worse was Old Spice.

  The shifter flinched away from the superheated stone. The chomping jaws melded into a giant pair of lips and screamed at such a high pitch I had to cover my ears. My body trembled. My knees demanded I drop to the floor in exhaustion. But now was not the time. I glanced at a section of roasted Bigglesworth. It looked like a burnt pancake. With savage anger, I stomped it. It made a satisfying crunch beneath my shoe.

  Then I ran my ass off. I passed the mass of goopy, screaming yuck where it twisted from the floor like a tornado with teeth, praying the shifter didn't try to engulf me in that horrific maw, and made a beeline for the room with the captive inside. The diamond fiber straps securing the man parted when touched, and he slumped forward. Summoning my incubus strength to bolster my reserves, I tossed him over my shoulder a
nd took off.

  A tendril of white flesh snapped at my ankle the moment I stepped outside the room. I flicked my staff at the ceiling. A teensy tiny little fireball swerved crazily through the air like a released balloon expelling the air from an open end, whistled weakly, and popped into a pathetic display of sparkles. Even though I would have been lucky to singe a fly with what was left of my magical energy, Bigglesworth hadn't known I was tapped out.

  His tendril flinched the moment I flicked my staff, freeing my ankle. And then I did what I usually did best in such situations. I ran.

  I blurred up the stairs, losing count of the hallways I passed in blind panic, and swerved through a doorway into a milling crowd of students in the hallway just outside a large room lined with tables. The sounds of clinking silverware and dinnerware drifted out. I'd apparently stumbled upon the cafeteria, or whatever people called the squat-n-gobble in an institution of higher magical learning.

  A girl who looked middle school age gasped, looking straight at the unconscious man slung over my shoulder. Murmurs went up from the crowd as they saw me. Someone screamed. Students dashed off in all directions, panicking like spooked deer. By the time the stampede finished, only a couple of students remained, one of them quite familiar.

  Lina, her mouth quirked into an amused expression, said, "You know how to handle a crowd, Justin."

  I would have shrugged but for the dead weight on my shoulder and a tide of exhaustion sweeping over my muscles. "Guess I need to change deodorant."

  "What happened to Professor MacLean?" she said, walking around behind me, inspecting him. Lina stepped back around, tilting her head slightly to the side. "He didn't assign you too much homework did he?"

  "Uh, classes haven't started yet, have they?" I tried to shrug again and failed. MacLean's body felt like a lead weight burrowing into my shoulder. "Is the nurse's office around here somewhere?"

  "You mean healer," she said, with a smile. "Oh, Justin, you know how to keep things interesting." She suddenly yawned, and I noticed dark rings under her eyes.

  "Are you okay?" I asked. "My feeding didn't overtire you did it?"

  "No, no," she said. "A friend found an old abandoned gauntlet room in the Burrows, and I stayed up late last night practicing."

  "Oh. You look exhausted."

  She yawned again. "So, what happened to the professor?"

  "Bigglesworth," I said. "But don't say anything to the healer."

  She looked confused. "The shape shifter you mentioned?"

  "Yeah. I can fill you in on the way."

  Lina waved me to follow her down the hall, and I gave her a quick summary of my Bigglesworth encounters. Thankfully, the healer station wasn't too far down the hall.

  The healer, a red-headed woman with freckles, looked up with a shocked expression. "Is that Professor MacLean?" She regarded Lina and me with a suspicious expression.

  "I found him injured at the bottom of a flight of stairs," I said. "I think he might have fallen." Telling her he'd been tortured by a shape-shifting maniac with a Cockney accent would only land me in trouble, I figured.

  She motioned me into a ward filled with beds and had me deposit the meaty figure on one. "Please take a seat in the waiting area, and I'll be right out."

  Lina sat beside me. "This is the second time he's tried to kill you in two days." She gripped me hand. "If he's immune to magic, I don't know what you can do to protect yourself."

  "He has a weakness," I said with more confidence than I felt.

  "Justin, I'm worried about you." Her large brown eyes looked even sadder than usual above the dark rings under her eyes.

  "I'll be fine," I said. "Why don't you go rest, and I'll fill you in later?"

  She sighed. "Do you trust Shelton to watch your back?"

  I forced a sure grin. "Heck yeah."

  Her eyes narrowed. "If you say so." She leaned forward, kissed me on the cheek. "Text me later. Let me know you're okay."

  "I will."

  "Promise me, Justin."

  I held up my fingers in a dubious imitation of an honor sign. "Promise."

  Lina gave me one last troubled look before pulling her hand away from mine and leaving.

  I turned my gaze toward the ward. A sudden wave of nausea climbed up my throat as magic poisoning from my recent exertions paid me an unpleasant visit. The healer emerged from the back room and raised an eyebrow. She reached into an old wooden desk, pulled out a pill, and tossed it to me.

  "Swallow that. It'll help." She filled a cup with water and handed it to me, then bent down and held open my eyelids so she could look into my eyes. "Looks like you've been through this a few times before. And what happened to your clothes?" She stood back, eyes darting to the myriad burn marks.

  My mind fumbled for something. "Oh, just the latest fashion," I said.

  "I see." Her nose wrinkled. "Guess I'll never understand the allure of wearing clothes that look like they came from a trash bin."

  I returned to her previous comment. "How did you know I had magic poisoning?"

  She stood upright and chuckled. "Are you kidding me? This is a place where kids learn magic. Naturally, they're going to stretch their limits and puke their brains out." She walked around the desk and took a seat. "Then again, most kids get over it once they hit full potential around sixteen. Only late bloomers still have to deal with it at your age."

  "Guess that's me," I said, trying to smile, but even with the pill attacking the nausea, all I wanted to do at this point was sleep.

  The healer sat at her desk, leaned on her elbows, and gave me a shrewd look. "What really happened to Professor MacLean?" A wand appeared in her hand, and it looked like she knew how to use it. "He doesn't have any bruising that would come from falling down stairs. In fact, the only trauma I found was from microscopic abrasions in his skin pores."

  "Abrasions?"

  She nodded. "The only reason I haven't called security to haul you away is because I don't know how you could have given them to him. Perhaps they could be magically induced, but I've never seen injuries like that before. It's almost as if something was trying to consume him one cell at a time."

  I gulped. Thinking about my close call with Bigglesworth didn't help with my receding nausea.

  The healer raised both eyebrows. "Well? The truth, or security?"

  "You might not believe me."

  "You'd be surprised at what I'd believe, young man."

  I had a feeling my life story would stretch the belief of even the most gullible person. I took in a deep breath to bolster myself as weariness weighed down my limbs and gave her some of the truth. "I'm new here, and I got lost trying to find my way from Administration over to the cafeteria. I ended up going too far down some stairs and was about to turn around when I heard screaming. So, I went down there and found some kind of blob creature trying to eat the professor."

  "A blob?"

  "I've never seen anything like it before."

  She held up a glass vial with an undulating bit of doughy Bigglesworth. "Like this?"

  I shuddered and felt my back press hard against the chair. Even with my leaden limbs, I felt like I could sprint away. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to keep that."

  "You're telling me this is a small part of a larger being?" she said, seemingly unconcerned.

  "What I'm telling you is the monster it belongs to can probably sense where this bit of it is and find it." I couldn't mask the disgust I felt just looking at it. "Where did you find that?"

  "It fell off your shoe after you set MacLean down."

  I jumped up like spiders were crawling on me, pulling off my shoes, and shaking them out. If I hadn't been in front of her, I probably would have pulled off my clothes and burned them even more. Thankfully, no other bits of Bigglesworth fell off me. I thought back to the fight and remembered stomping that burnt chunk of him. Maybe there'd been some living tissue still on my shoe.

  The healer watched me with a bemused expression and then shook her head.
"This isn't a part of some new experimental golem for the Grand Melee is it?"

  "I don't even know how to make a stick figure walk, much less animate a blob of goo," I said, staring at the bit of Bigglesworth squirming in the vial like a worm seeking escape. "But please, for the love of all that is holy, burn that thing."

  She watched the thing for a moment. "If this is an undiscovered form of supernatural creature, it needs studying." She opened a wooden case on her desk and placed the vial inside, locking it. "This bio-hazard lockbox is warded to isolate anything inside. Even if this creature could sense and track a part of its body, it won't be able to through this."

  I wrinkled my forehead. "For your sake, lady, I sure hope so." I nodded at the door into the infirmary. "How's the patient?"

  "He'll wake up soon. I was able to repair the damage. Thankfully, it was limited to his hands and face." She stood and walked over to me, wand in hand. "Did the creature harm you?"

  I nodded.

  She ran the wand up and down my body. "Goodness. You're already healing remarkably fast." She grunted. "Ah. Daemos."

  "Yes, I'm a big bad demon."

  She laughed. "Oh, don't be melodramatic. I'm not biased against your kind one way or the other." Her hand with the wand abruptly stopped as she stared at the holographic numbers hovering above. "Hmm, must be something wrong with my spell."

  I looked at the numbers and saw a statistic that looked like the ones the security arcane at Queens Gate had registered when scanning me and Shelton. "What does AP forty-one mean?"

  "It's a measure of arcane potential," she replied, giving me a confused look. "But forty-one is impossible. The highest ever recorded is twenty."

  Chapter 16

  My potential was more than double that of the most powerful Arcane in history? Not only that, but Shelton had scored a seventeen when the security screener took it at Queens Gate. He was a lot stronger than he'd let on.

  "Yeah, it must be wrong," I said, knowing the truth would only freak her out.