by Lee Roland
“I fight those beasts from hell that come into this place.” Helen rubbed her cross. She held it like she planned to thrust it in my face. “I don’t work with them.”
“Helen, stop,” one of the women said. “You’re going to get in trouble.”
I stood. I really didn’t want to fight with her. “Okay. I’ll leave. Actually, I think that the sole purpose of my life as a witch is simply a warning for other witches not to live like I do. I mean you no harm.”
I did something incredibly stupid then. Something I would never have done any place else in the world. I turned my back on her. Oh, I heard the scrape of the chair when she stood. I didn’t anticipate how fast she was. I whirled to meet her challenge. Too late. She was already on me. My arms went up and a knife sliced straight through one, right above the wrist. Her forward motion slammed me to the floor. She landed on top. Her weight forced the air out of my lungs in a single whoosh. The woman’s weight kept me from instinctively drawing me more in. If I jerked my arm, the knife would slice it apart.
I’d been wounded before. It hurts. Bright, immediate, white-hot. I know the movies make light of it—the hero jumps up and keeps on fighting—but damn. Instinctive self-preservation flared and the magic in me exploded. It blasted her up. She hit the ceiling hard and fast, then crashed onto the dance floor, barely missing the dancers. This time, there was not a hint of fire. An improvement—I think.
She’d held on to the knife when she’d rocketed away. I managed to sit, but not get to my feet. Blood boiled from my arm and quickly dripped from my elbow. Not the gush of an artery, but serious enough. I, in the meantime, offered her a prayer. “Great Mother, please don’t let her die. Don’t let her die.” Rocky lifted me and helped me to a chair. I noticed the obviously unpopular Helen still lying alone and unconscious on the floor. “Darrow?” I screamed. “See about her.”
Rocky tied a bandage around my arm, tight. He insisted we go to the emergency room. I didn’t argue. In fact, I rode in the ambulance they called for Helen. She had broken both legs and maybe had a concussion. She also cut herself on her own knife when she landed, but that wasn’t as bad.
The Mother alone knew what she would say when she woke, or what the hospital people were told. The Mother alone knew why she didn’t wake before I was seen to and escaped the white walls and stink of antiseptic. I saw Darrow talking to the doctors. I hadn’t seen any police. Maybe he had some official She’s a security guard excuse.
Rocky drove us back toward the compound.
“What if she starts talking about witches and magic?” I asked.
“She won’t. It’s in our contracts. No talking outside the Barrows. If she talks while she’s drugged, they’ll ignore it. When she comes to her senses, she’ll remember how much she gets paid and keep her mouth shut. She’s been here long enough to know the penalties. She’s been on the edge. Darrow thinks . . . well, we’ve all seen things. He’ll take care of it.”
While it hurt, her knife had not cut my artery or major veins. I made Rocky stop at a twenty-four-hour discount store and buy me clean jeans and a shirt. Etienne would know what happened—Darrow would have called him—but no way would I return with blood on my clothes. I also had Rocky stop at a fast-food place. I had to fuel up again.
Rocky wanted to go up with me, but I wouldn’t let him. I hated myself at that moment. Good old guilt. I’d chosen to go out and have a good time and could have been injured or killed. That’s something that probably wouldn’t have happened if I’d stayed with Etienne. Flawed logic, but I created a lot of that.
Etienne was on the phone, but he closed it when I entered.
“It wasn’t Darrow’s fault,” I said.
“No. Darrow is too levelheaded to get into a fight.”
I wouldn’t explain anything to him. The fight wasn’t my fault, only the result. “Darrow is also too smart to be running a third world mercenary gang in the middle of the States, too. Maybe you should use some of Aiakós’s money to build your own hospital. I’ll bet that statue of the Mother is worth enough to start his own country.”
He nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He was far too calm to suit me.
I plopped down on the couch. “I am not getting in bed with you. I’m not fucking you. I’m not having any more fun until I find Marisol.” I crossed my arms over my chest and felt the stupid pout form on my face.
Etienne walked into the bedroom. He returned with a pillow. He tossed the pillow on the couch. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead, then headed into the bedroom. He closed the door behind him.
I rubbed my hands over my face, closed my eyes, and instantly fell asleep—and instantly fell into a nightmare, a nightmare that really happened. I lost Marisol in the swamp one day. She was seven and we played hide-and-seek. We were supposed to hide in certain parameters around Gran’s house where we knew it was safe. I broke the rules and hid in my canoe. I let it drift off in the water, out of bounds.
Marisol rarely broke the rules. She wasn’t allowed to use magic to locate me, and she didn’t. She wandered away, too far, looking for me. At seven, she already had the confidence and courage to take one of those rare walks on the wild side. When I realized she couldn’t find me, I went back . . . and couldn’t find her.
The terror I lived through then was just as fresh in my nightmare. I ran, called, screamed, cried for her, searching. When I returned to Gran’s house, still hysterical, she was sitting on the front steps. But that wasn’t happening in my current nightmare. I ran through the swamp and cried and heard her calling me, her voice growing more distant with each step. My eyes popped open. In spite of my beers, I had no hangover. My arm, though not healed, didn’t hurt. Personal disease, birth control, and the ability to avoid the price of overindulgence in alcohol were among the perks of being born a witch.
I still sat on Etienne’s couch. I held my breath, hoping to hear her call me one more time. Only silence filled the room. The glowing clock said five a.m. I had to find Marisol. I had to find her today! I knew that as surely as I knew the sun would come up. Time, that capricious bastard, was going to run out.
I wasn’t going to be put off any longer. I had to find Marisol and he was hindering me. She was going to die soon. Etienne seemed to want to help, but in fact he distracted me. I’d allowed him to do it. Would he try to stop me? He’d be too late. I quietly walked out the apartment door, down the stairs, and raced for the ruins.
Chapter 31
I shivered in the predawn air. My discount store T-shirt from the night before didn’t provide much warmth. Summer seemed reluctant to break spring’s grip this morning.
It was a good bet that someone watched the buildings and would alert Etienne. I maintained a steady jog. Once I was out of the maze of warehouses and open parking lots and into the more crowded ruins, they’d never find me. As soon as I reached the first building I could slip in and hide, I relieved my overfull bladder. Drip-dry, but I’d done that before.
It seemed that the only way to find the building I needed was to retrace the route Etienne used to get us out, but I’d already done that. It wasn’t exactly daylight yet. Herschel fell in beside me, keeping pace. I didn’t see where he came from.
“I wish I could figure you out, buddy,” I said to him, “but I guess you are what you are.” Herschel farted, thereby contaminating the clear morning air. The opening rattle of massive rolling warehouse doors came behind me, then the sound of an engine. Not that it mattered. I was already moving into more crowded buildings and blocked streets. One step, two steps, I could hide in seconds.
I tried not to think about Etienne, but couldn’t help it. He was a sweet lover and I think I satisfied him. The tattoos on his arms, the binding he didn’t know had been laid upon him as a child, was another thing entirely. That I had to question. I’d bet they were the very thing that drew that malicious witch Oonagh to him in the first place. Someone in his life must have feared him, f
eared what power an infant boy might grow into, what menace he might become. Could I remove that binding? Maybe? Did I want to? Not until I knew the nature of that power. What if it was something he couldn’t control? A person treated as he had been by a rogue witch would probably never be comfortable using magic. I suspected he would hate knowing it dwelled in him, even if he didn’t use it. That situation reeked of disaster. Incompetent witch that I was, I had learned one thing. Some earth magic was best left alone. Witches should never meddle in some aspects of the Mother’s world.
I walked on as the sun rose on my left. Warmer, promising a better day, though the sun could not penetrate or illuminate some places in these ruins. I could see why the Mother used them. The ruins were just another wall to protect the Zombie like the barrier she placed around the Barrows to contain Aiakós. The one-way door between worlds obviously touched places filled with nasty, hostile . . . things. I pitied them, those so-called monsters, but I wouldn’t let them eat me.
River Street couldn’t be that far away. Still, no sound penetrated this place. Only an occasional piece of falling debris broke the silence. Twice I thought I caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of a building, but it didn’t approach. A vehicle passed a block over. I remained out of sight. I needed to use earth magic. I might draw all sorts of attention, but the need to find my sister grew more urgent by every hour.
I did have something, though. The spell, the clues, the pieces I had gathered as I went to each location on Marisol’s map. Those might guide me. Had they remained with me? Some things about me had changed, mostly fire, but . . . I closed my eyes and searched my mind. I found the symbols, the ones Marisol had drawn at each site we visited. I pulled them from memory, one by one.
My teachers had tried to teach me the art of creating magical runes, the supercharged symbols and words that some witches used. I’d made them, but was never able to charge them with magic. They remained dead things, floating in the air, sparkling and buzzing like Fourth of July sparklers, yet totally impotent of any power and meaning. This time, I used Marisol’s symbols to create my runes. Then, rather than using regular earth magic, I called upon the fire. They burst into flame.
“Show me,” I said.
I opened my eyes. The runes slowly floated around me in a circle. I cast the gentle locator spell, not the power of my previous sending, and sent it out with her name—and every memory I could pull from my heart. As I did, I locked on to the spiral wheel, the last symbol. The circle of runes turned until the wheel moved to the south. I walked toward it. As I did, it moved on. I had to detour a couple of times, but the fiery wheel remained to guide me.
I was lost, without a doubt, but I had a guide. Nothing challenged me, though I did duck into a building once when a vehicle came close. I wondered if anyone but me could see the wheel—or the other flaming symbols that remained in a circle around me.
Marisol remained farther to the south, but closer now. I started to run, then remembered my strength issues and slowed to a fast walk. I had to conserve energy. I had no idea what I would face when I found my sister.
I had my beacon, though, my guide, my source. At last I saw it, directly in front of me, the building with the spiked wheel. A parking garage. I had been by it a couple of times yesterday. The spiked wheel I’d been looking for wasn’t visible without magic. The wheel glowed with it. When I’d seen it before, I’d still carried the residual magic of the great burning I’d summoned to defend against the monster crabs. Of course, no one else saw it, either, so no one could guide me. I released the magic leading me. It flared, then faded to nothing.
I counted five stories on the garage. Each level had the open sides required for ventilation. It stood fairly solid given the buildings around it. I didn’t hesitate. The wide entrance had been blocked by dense concrete barriers, long straight things that might have divided a highway. I assumed that they had been placed to keep vehicles from entering an unsafe structure.
I glanced down at Herschel, but he had disappeared. I realized I hadn’t seen him since I started my spell. Oh, well. Nothing new. I climbed over the barriers. The first level was slightly underground and no light penetrated. I walked slowly on through the cool damp darkness. It hadn’t rained since I’d been to the Barrows. If the old drains were clogged, water would stand. I jumped a couple of puddles.
My footsteps, light as they were, made a slight sound. I stopped every twenty feet to listen. Silence. As I went deeper into the solid cavern, I could hear the faint drip of water, nothing more. The concrete path turned up.
On the second level, shaded light returned. There were openings in the walls to allow auto exhaust fumes to escape. Second level, then the third. I turned the corner to the fourth level—and there it was. The truck with the gold and magical artifacts. And it was surrounded with a spell, a formidable spell that felt like no magic I had ever felt before. Magic drawn by the witch Oonagh to protect something she valued. According to Etienne, she’d had possession of an artifact that was no longer on this world and she’d used it here.
I stepped closer. Marisol floated behind the odd, magic shield around the truck, sleeping in a protective bubble of her own spell. Her pretty pink dress fluttered around her as if the spell contained a soft breeze. That spell she’d created had sustained her life for weeks until I could find her. And I couldn’t get to her. The vast alien spell surrounding her and the truck stopped me. As powerful as she was, she’d managed to get inside, but couldn’t get out. That task would fall to me.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
The voice came from behind me. Etienne.
I turned to him slowly, deliberately forcing all emotion down. I had no weapons on me that would harm him, and yet this might end in violence. “You knew where she was all along, didn’t you?”
“No.”
He came closer to me and I shifted into a fighting position.
He stopped. “I suspected, Nyx, that’s all. I haven’t set foot in this building since I parked the truck three years ago. I watched Oonagh use her magic to protect it. It almost killed her. I had to carry her out.” His voice carried a neutral tone, low, deep, and matter-of-fact. I’d suddenly become a stranger to him. Maybe I was. He certainly seemed a stranger to me. This man who had held me carefully in his arms, made love to me. The cautious man who had dropped his protection against magic to have me. Or at least to have my body.
I wanted to remain calm, but rising rage threatened to overwhelm. “And you would have let Marisol die before you told me.”
“She seems to have protected herself.” Etienne stood beside me now. “I didn’t want you to try. See, there by the wall. Another got in and could not escape.”
A skeleton lay in the direction he pointed. Rags covered the bare bones. “Can you get in?” My voice bristled and I barely controlled the urge to shriek at him, to strike him with my fists. “You’re immune to magic. You should be able to pass through.”
“Possibly. And I might be trapped like they were. Oonagh caged me once. Should I risk it again? I don’t want or need anything that’s there. I need no gold and as far as I’m concerned, the things in that truck are protected from the witches and other beasts roaming the Barrows.” He shrugged. “They can sit there until this building crumbles around them.”
The flame in me stirred, threatened an explosion. “The spell around that truck is powerful. It might hold fifty years, a hundred years. But no spell can hold forever, especially if the spell caster is dead. Marisol doesn’t have that much time. She’s put everything she had into a spell to suspend her life. When her spell ends, and that will be soon, she’ll die.”
“I’m sorry, Nyx.” His voice carried some sympathy. “I’ve made mistakes. Mistakes I can’t fix. I told you that.”
He seemed genuine, but damn it all . . . Great Mother, how confusing. How could he not have told me? How could he save my life and not tell me? He knew. He knew how much she meant to me. He had placed himself in danger going to Abigai
l’s and leading me around the Barrows. But he’d refused to bring me here, to search here. Why? He didn’t trust me. He’d never trust a witch.
I pushed that aside. Etienne didn’t matter. I had to get Marisol out. I gently touched the spell around the truck with magic. I felt it shift to protect itself. It was a strange, powerful spell. Only the Earth Mother might have the strength to break it, and I already knew she would not enter the Barrows to do that. Nausea churned in my guts. If I had to watch Marisol die, it would drive me insane. How could I tell Gran?
“I can try to burn it away,” I said. I had a problem to resolve here. My emotions would be dealt with later. “That would work with some spells.”
Etienne shifted, no longer neutral but distinctly uncomfortable. “No. You don’t know enough about it. About what might happen. You said your sister was powerful. She couldn’t get out.”
“Perhaps we could work together.” A voice spoke from behind me.
Laudine. She came walking down the incline leading to the next floor. Her dark hair had turned to silver and wrinkles twisted her face, wrinkles that hadn’t existed before I met her. Age that hadn’t seemed to touch her before had descended in a day.
“Indeed.” That was Aiakós. He came from the other side. He spoke in a voice that sounded so casual, so relaxed. “After all, there is enough there for all of us.”
“I agree.” The new voice came from behind Laudine. “But then, I don’t need gold. I already have too much of it. I can smell it, though. It’s delicious.” It was Dervick, but not the Dervick I knew. A taller and much stronger version of Dervick came closer. He still had that pretty boyish face, but he now exposed broad shoulders that had been covered in a baggy suit. The suit he wore now fit him perfectly. Confidence moved through him with every step. He had formed an illusion when I first met him, an illusion that fooled even me.