The scrying mirrors went dark and the overhead lights winked out, leaving only the golden glow from the ritual candles flickering in their wall sconces.
“Well, hello there.” The techno-elf flashed a smile at me. His blue eyes glowed like LED indicators.
I backed up, grabbing at the binding rod at my belt. My eyes widened. It was missing. My heart pounded and sweat trickled down my back. Someone had taken it.
I reached for the hatpin in my boot. “What the Hidden are you doing out?” I stammered.
The techno-elf’s smile widened. “Escaping with you.”
“What?”
He tilted his head, snapped his fingers. The Silo’s HVAC system rattled and died.
“This place is stifling, babe,” he said.
My fingers fumbled around in my boot as I groped for the hat pin. It wasn’t there. But it had to be there. But it wasn’t.
I bumped against my work console. I swung around and smacked my palm against the alarm button. The klaxons would wake up Taylor and bring Margery running.
Silence.
I hit the alarm button again. Nothing. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Techno-elves alter, augment, boost, and yes, screw with tech. Effing inconvenient.
With a toss of his head techno-elf flicked his hair back over his shoulder. “Babe, really, I’m here for you.” He was doing the full-on Lounge lizard meets full-on nerd. It was so weird.
His smile became a smirk. “This is more appropriate,” he said, and suddenly he wore a white polyester leisure suit over an open collared red shirt, like the kind Great Uncle Phil wore back in the Disco age.
I hated it when manifestations read my subconscious.
“Get back to your cell,” I stammered, stumbling as I backed away from the approaching techno elf.
“Or what, babe? You’ll have a great time, I promise.”
There was a razor blade in my belt. It was desperate measures time. I’d hidden it there. I hadn’t used it since... since that last case, the Dryad one.
R.U.N.E. barred agents from using blood magic. I had figured what they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them, and Tomlinson didn’t mind.
Okay, I wasn’t a fan of it either, but it had come in handy, and when you have a living charm that can heal you. Blood magic worked far faster in a binding spell than an ordinary binding rod, or a hat pin in this case.
I don’t have that charm here.
The techno-elf lunged at me. I dodged, uncoiling my belt. The razor was on the inside.
I cracked the belt.
“Cool, babe, I like a little foreplay,” the techno elf said, the leer widening.
Behind the buckle was a little leather blade-holder. I peeled it open from the side and slid out the razor.
I began muttering a chant in old German. “Pain brings obedience, blood seals the bond.”
Techno-elf’s eyes widened and the leer vanished. “No, you don’t, lady. Don’t please, don’t.”
I preferred the binding rod, even the hatpin but you use the tool you have.
I slashed my left forearm with the razor blade. Blood welled up. Blood magic hurt like Hades.
The techno-elf’s essence became visible, all sparkly writhing around him in a disco ball-like corona gone mad. I clutched at a fat tendril with my pain-stricken left hand. The essence tingled sharply against my fingers. A red line of blood dripped from my left arm.
“I share my agony with thee.” I grated the words through clenched teeth. “Surrender to my will.” It was a vicious, painful way to bind a manifestation but I didn’t exactly have a choice. Pain worked.
Techno-elf stiffened and his blue eyes dimmed. His disco ball-like essence faded until it was a faint shimmer.
My arm still hurt like the hells, and blood pooled on the floor. Dizziness hit me and the room swayed. I needed to bandage my wound. I needed to get techno-elf back in his cell. It was a hasty binding, not likely to hold.
I looked up at the hatch guardian in all its starfishy and crusty bejeweled thingie-ness. It took two sorcerers to open it, casting binding magic. What if somehow (and I had no idea how the hells this could happen) Taylor and Margery were being controlled? Crazy talk, I know but I couldn’t leave the watch room without adding a lock to the front door. Being paranoid hath advantage.
I slashed my left arm a second time.
The faint green aura around the hatch guardian grew thick in the air as my sight focused thanks to the pain.
Couldn’t use old German again, not today. The rules were the rules. So, Hebrew instead. “I am the door, open only through me, by my will and my word.”
The guardian writhed, writhed as I wobbled on my feet. Then it hardened in my gaze, becoming rocklike.
Hardened for the next day unless I ordered it to unharden sooner. It took two sorcerers to order it to open the hatch but hardening only took one. R.U.N.E. tried to cover all the angles when it came to its magical prison. Manifestations could be unpredicatable, and there was also the possibility, however remote, that they could develop a way to order the mega-crustie to open.
I fumbled around for the first aid kit, finding it in the closet where it should be. I wrapped three compresses, and a ton of surgical tape to hold the bandages. The room had developed a tilt. I slipped and nearly fell. My boots were slick with my own blood.
There was a plasma pack in the cooler. I was a universal recipient (insert joke here if you must).
I couldn’t move without falling over. I sat in a chair and struggled to keep my focus.
I gestured at techno-elf. “Bring me the plasma kit in the cooler,” I said, pointing.
The elf brought the kit without hesitation. Binding hath its advantages when it comes to dealing with manifestations.
I found a vein, pressed the needle in and leaned back. When the plasma bag was nearly empty I rolled it down, squeezing the last bit of blood in. I stood and nearly fell over. Clearly this was a two-bag problem. After the second bag I felt strong enough to take my bound prisoner back down to his cell. My quick binding wasn’t going to last much longer.
WE TOOK THE STAIRS down. They lowered from the bottom of the watch room until they reached the spiral. I’d always do that, but the stairs needed to be up normally. Safety regulations mandated thus.
I put the techno-elf back in his cell just before the binding slipped away. I leaned against the silo wall and sucked in lung-fulls of sweet, musty silo air while the techno-elf began wheedling me about getting out.
“It’s the chance of a lifetime, babe. You won’t regret it.”
I ignored him but did he stop? What do you think?
“The open road awaits. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life down in this hole, do ya babe?”
“Shut up.” I was in no mood to banter with this guy.
Nothing like a dude whining at you to get what he wants.
I shook my head. How in Hades had he gotten out in the first place?
“You can get out of this dump. No more stinking guard duty. You can show up your mother.”
I was off that rail and up against the door in a flash.
“For the wide world’s sake, shut up.” I gave him the full-bore Liz stare.
He laughed.
In the face of my anger he should be cowering in a corner, or at least flinching.
“Go ahead, bind me again. It won’t matter soon.”
“What are you babbling about?” I demanded. I smelled a rat. A magical rat. I don’t know how, but there had to be more magic at work here.
He just smirked.
The crustie attached to his cell door began glowing red. I scrambled away from the door. The other cell lights went red, it was like Lucifer’s own Christmas tree in the Silo. A loud snick sounded, and the techno-elf’s cell door swung wide open. Before I could slam it shut the techno-elf was out and grinning at me. “You can’t keep me locked away,” he said.
How had this happened? My thoughts were frantic. It would take huge amount of mana, and a compl
icated binding spells, or spells, to command all the crusties to open their individual cell doors at once.
Damn it. I pulled out the razor from my coat pocket and began chanting a new binding spell, this time in Latin. I felt like hell but had to get the techno-elf under control.
“I wouldn’t bother,” the techno-elf said.
A chorus of loud snicks erupted and echoed in the silo, followed by every version of evil laughter imaginable.
I couldn’t help myself “Margery!” I screamed. Where was the old witch?
“You should thank me,” Margery shouted from above, at the top of the stairs.
She leaned over the open hatch, her face a pale grinning oval framed by wild gray hair. Her left hand worked those steel balls of hers.
“Missing something, rookie?” She said, her expression all forced innocence. Her right held up my binding rod. She snickered.
Manifestations emerged from their cells and began trudging up the spiral.
“Why are you doing this?” I hollered up at Margery.
“Rookie, why do you think?” Her grin became a sneer. “I’m tired of being a prisoner.”
“They made you a guard,” I retorted.
“Hah!” She spat. “Don’t be a fool. We’re as much as a prisoner as the supernaturals we supposed to guard.”
I shook my head. “I’m not winding up in Silo 1.” The silo reserved for human prisoners.
“They aren’t going to catch us. They aren’t going to be calling the shots anymore. This is your chance to be free.”
Crazy witch. My heart pounded. I glanced around frantically. There was only one exit from the Silo, and all the manifestations were headed that way.
“Does Taylor agree with you?”
Margery laughed. “Ask him yourself.” She turned and motioned behind her. Taylor walked into view, moving like a puppet, his face expressionless.
“He didn’t have a choice. He’s got a little worm telling him what to do.” Her voice was smug.
Margery had a boss slug. How had she smuggled that in here? Then again, she had the weird beastie in the cauldron, and that wasn’t standard issue, either. I shuddered. Where there was one boss slug, there were usually more.
A single green light from below caught my gaze. Cosmo’s cell door was still locked.
Why? Was he resisting leaving?
She must have seen me figuring out the kobold was still locked away in his cell.
“Stubborn cuss, but he’ll come around.” You could cut the arrogance in her voice with a knife.
“Why do you need him?” I asked.
“No reason to leave anyone behind.”
Now, that was a ridiculous answer. She was obviously lying. The kobold possessed earth magic, which meant tunneling was his thing. Even if Margery’s plan worked, and the supernatural breakout happened from this silo, there was still the berms and the barriers outside. Unless she happened to have a manifestation who could tunnel through rock.
The realization of what she had been trying to do, and why Ulvonous had been acting so oddly, reared up in my mind. She’d been trying to bind him.
She’d bind him. Unless I got to him first.
I half ran, half staggered down the stairs.
Cosmo squatted in his cell, one arm raised, beseeching me. A shock ran through me. My sketch, it had been a subconscious peek into this scene.
“Bind me, Elizabeth,” the kobold said.
He opened his mouth, thick lips straining, then shut them. His eyes pleaded with me. He was suffering. My heart ached to see that suffering.
Margery had started to bind him but binding an ancient manifestation was no easy thing, it took a great deal of mana, will, and sometimes, sacrifice. I laughed softly. Margery must be frustrated half way to Hades. This explained why she let me call him Cosmo. She thought it would irritate the Kobold, make him side with her, and agree to leave.
But looking at him standing there, chest heaving, eyes earnest, it was clear she’d missed the obvious. Honor.
The cell door and the wall around it would block my spell. I wasn’t good enough to cast through matter.
I heard swearing from above, with my name involved. Tsk tsk, I thought, Margery was all in a twist. I’d better hurry.
I pressed my hand up against the underside of the crustie on his door.
If I were wrong the kobold would crush me like a nut. He had reason enough to be pissed with me.
“Open sesame,” I said.
Snick.
The door swung open.
“Okay, Cosmo,” I began. “Sorry. Ulvonus.”
A slight smile creased that craggy expanse of rock the Kobold called a face. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”
“Why don’t you want to leave?” I blurted out the question.
He didn’t look away. Sadness filled those gray eyes. He managed to open his mouth and speak. “I didn’t bow to the wizards. I knew the price of my defiance. This foolish escape would only besmirch my honor. So, I stay.”
His words resonated in me. I stiffened. Something must have gotten in my eyes all a sudden because I was blinking away tears. I hated being here, wishing I were back out on the street, but I had my own sense of honor, too, as he just reminded me.
I took a deep breath and focused my attention on the problem.
A simple binding wasn’t good enough. I took a deep, ragged breath.
“I need to go farther,” I said.
The kobold nodded.
A rumbling from above, followed by Margery shouting, cursing, and somewhere in the middle of all that foul language (she swore like the proverbial stevedore) was my name.
“Oops. I think she just realized I’d spelled the Lock to myself.”
Ulvonus’s laughter was like a landslide. “Her innards must be in knots.”
“We don’t have much time. I wish I had my binding needles.” The razor was doing things the hard way.
The kobold’s huge eyes narrowed. “Your needles were stolen?” Okay, so I’d talked with him about my binding, thought it might keep him in line. Yeah, like that would have worked. I was naive three months ago.
It hit me. Somehow Margery had stolen my binding rod and my hatpin. That drawing fugue was no accident. She’d set it up. I’d been played; maybe played for weeks, maybe since I’d arrived.
I held up the razor. Pain. Pain was the only path to this binding. But physical pain wouldn’t be enough to do what I needed to do here, which was not just bind Ulvonus to my will, but to intertwine us, my soul and his essence. Before today I would have said no way.
From higher up in the Silo came a cacophony of inhuman screams and roars. I thought I heard Margery yelling orders in the din, but maybe that was just my imagination.
Sharing my pain.
Well, Ulvonus had shared his with me, only fair I do likewise. This crackbrained scheme of mine was the only way out, and, in order to do his thing, Ulvonus needed a lot more mana, fast. We needed to meld on an essence-level.
It was either that or wait around for Margery to stick one of her slug things in me. Ick. Not in a million years. I would do what it took to stop her.
First things first.
I slashed my right bicep with the razor (cripes, that hurt), and bound the crustie lock to me, then slammed shut the door just as the neo-Troll lumbered down the spiral onto this level, Margery and Doug the techno-elf right behind.
“No, you don’t,” Margery shouted as the cell door boomed shut.
I ignored the neo-troll’s foul breath and his bellowing as he pulled on the handle. The cell door stayed shut. Smirking, I squatted down beside Ulvonus, who smirked back at me.
“Noob,” he said.
My eyes widened and I laughed. “Didn’t think you knew the lingo.”
“I have ears,” he said, his stony face dead serious.
I laughed harder.
“You won’t be laughing when we get through that door,” Margery snarled from outside the bars. “You aren’t going anywhere, roo
kie.”
Keep on thinking that, witchy.
Blood drizzled down my arm and onto my fingers. I tore a strip from my shirt’s hem and wrapped it around the wound.
“You’ll still bleed to death.” Margery’s voice was matter of fact. “Such a fucking waste.”
“I’m not running from my reality,” I retorted as I reached out to place my hands on either side of Ulvonus’s massive head. He put his huge hands around my head. It was like being skull clasped with shovels.
I’d never done this before. We’d discussed it in training—“last resort,” I’d been told, “when you are utterly boned.” Gee, thanks.
Margery began laughing. “You’re trying an intertwining? That takes the cake. You’re screwed, rookie.”
“My sister—” I began, when something bounced off my back, and clattered when it hit the floor. It was one of Margery’s metal balls. Stung like a killer bee.
“You ain’t intertwining, Lizzy.”
Ulvonus let go of the head clasp, stood up, pulled me with him and spun us around until his back faced the door and I was against the wall.
Margery’s face was twisted into a mask of spiteful fury. “That ain’t going to save you.” She turned and bellowed “Doug!”
The kobold pulled me back down again, and we exchanged skull clasps.
“My sister showed me magic,” I began, “when I was fifteen. We had a summer of wonder among singing trees, dancing with the sprites and wood nymphs, and then Fiona went insane.” The words were merely the triggers for the deep emotions welling up in me.
The memories from that summer flooded me.
My sister Fiona summoning a new kind of fairy, one covered in black.
Fiona pointing out the “mountains of magic and castles of the air”—mana structures I know now, but back then I only saw the barest shadowy ripples in the summer air.
Fiona binding an ogre-boy who tried to steal the Goth fairy.
Fiona beginning to babble nonsense as she sang. Her becoming quiet and then manic, then dropping into a deep depression.
Finding her in the bathtub, her blood staining the steaming water. Mother saving her by putting a manifestation that looked like a mutant giant silver fish into her pale body. Later, my mother telling me Fiona would be away, perhaps forever, and no, I couldn’t see her; couldn’t see my sister who had been my best friend, perhaps never see her again, and facing my mother’s cold anger day after endless day.
Street Spells: Seven Urban Fantasy Shorts Page 10