Death Rite Genie: An Urban Fantasy Folly

by AE McKenna

  A car cut me off to evade a car ahead of them that was avoiding Penny. I cranked the wheel, jerking into oncoming traffic, and the ladybug charm dangling from the rearview mirror swayed like a pendulum. More horns blared and a car swerved into another lane to avoid hitting me head-on. Adrenaline coursed through my body while I tapped the brakes to slide the bug into a space barely big enough for me to fit. At least I was on the right side of the highway now.

  A space opened beside me and I took it, grateful for the breathing room between my bumper and the car in front of me. I veered onto the shoulder, put the pedal to the metal, and… slowly passed that car and merged back onto the highway. I glanced to the other lane and Penny glared at me from the Camry. I motioned for her to pull over; she waved with one finger and pulled ahead. I frowned. She must have a manual… or her car had more horsepower than mine. Speed wasn’t something the owner of this Bug cared about, judging from the green shag carpet coating the dash and the crocheted flowers attached to it. I squinted through the windshield. Are those eyelashes on the headlights?

  Penny cut me off, her rear bumper tapping my driver’s side front corner. It amazed me she could rear-end someone while in front of them. I swerved onto the shoulder to avoid a larger collision. Sweat broke out on my forehead, and the steering wheel became slick from my sweaty hands. The back end wanted to come around to the front, but I steered into it, correcting the fishtail.

  Not only would I arrest her, but I’d get her license revoked, too.

  Taking in a measured breath, I merged back onto the highway and sped after the maniac in the Camry.

  The farther we got from Semuc Champey, the less congested the highway became and it was easier to tail Penny. She took an offramp to a residential area, and I followed. She turned down a street, then parked in the middle of the road, not bothering to turn the engine off, and bolted toward a realty sign in the lawn. She stepped onto Realty Lane.

  “Shit.” I pulled over to the curb. Even if there was a sign restricting parking, at least I wasn’t a dick, leaving the car in the middle of the street.

  Confirming no one was watching me, I followed Penny onto Realty Lane. I stretched my jaw to ease the pressure built in my ears. The money-green smoke was ahead of me, but not as far as it would have been six hours ago. At least there was that.

  I ran. I’m so tired of chasing her. This was no good for her, not Lucy, and certainly not me. Penny barreled through people, and I hoped on my bottle she wouldn’t push anyone into a faery trap. I darted around colorful wind dervishes and twisters, keeping Penny’s smoke in sight.

  An hour later, she ducked out of Realty Lane and I followed. We were on the outskirts of San Martin Sacatepéquez, and close to Chicabal Volcano, her eventual destination. Judging by the high position of the sun, it was noon. Would another Lantern road take me closer to the volcano, or would going on foot be my best chance to stall her? It’d be best to waylay her before the volcano.

  Penny hailed a taxi, and I, like the dogged bureau agent that I am, followed her in a separate taxi.

  “Lagune Seca, Chicabal, porfavor.” I sat back, relieved I could take this ride, albeit however short, to rest. It’d been hours since we’d first arrived in Guatemala, longer since the chase started. I could use a nap, but I didn’t close my eyes. I needed those still. But I entered a trance-like state, recuperating lost energy. Eating an energy bar helped too.

  When the car stopped, I paid the driver and glanced around for signs of Penny: upset people, rattled countenances, or even gunshot wounds. I saw nothing, but I heard a murmur about a crazy white American woman. Regardless, I knew where she was going. I didn’t need to follow her. I just needed to either beat her there or get there in time to stop her.

  Ahead, someone yelped. “Smoke! Do you see that color?”

  “Shit.” I jogged along the path, which was a hard hike for most people. I am not most people, but I also had no business jogging up a fucking volcano.

  Ahead, I saw a plume of money-green smoke and I cursed even louder. I could not break fae canon. I refused, but Penny Avalon had the gall to do so right in front of me in a tourist location. My gut burned and my ribs clenched my lungs. My options had run out. I couldn’t let Penny go. No matter how much I wanted to make Lucy happy, I couldn’t ignore her mother any longer.

  Penny’s smoke dissipated, and she half crawled, half scrambled up the side of the volcano, veering off the trail. One moment she was in front of me, and the next, she leaped off the edge of the slope. My bowels turned watery.

  Air sawed in and out of my throat, my heart thundered in my chest, and my head pounded from the abrupt change of elevation. I skittered down the slope, my feet losing traction for a split second. My arms shot out for balance. Penny stumbled to her feet and raced toward the lake.

  Clouds like a thick, white burial shroud covered the water.

  “Penny Avalon,” I bellowed, my voice breathless. I heaved in another lungful. “By the power of the Fifth Court, you are in my custody. I order you to cease and desist.”

  Penny whirled, gun in hand. I froze. I knew eventually she might try this.

  Her face was dirty with sweat streaks. “I’m not giving up. Not when I’m this close.”

  She shoved me.

  I didn’t react—that used too much energy. Instead, I reached for her. She fired the gun into the air. I flinched, and Penny spun and dove into the lake. The clouds concealed where I last saw her, and I caught sight of the money-green smoke plume.

  Gritting my teeth, I dove into the lake. The water embraced me and the clouds forced me to shift to smoke. I spun in currents and rolled through waves. Water rushed into my ears, nose, and mouth. I thought I would drown, yet surprisingly my smoke wasn’t torn away from me. Pressure popped in my head, my smoke dripped off me, and I stood in an antechamber of a Faelands pocket realm filled with stale air.

  Penny had one hand braced against a wall, soaking wet and catching her breath. She laid a baleful eye on me, sucked in a breath, then sobbed. “Why can’t you leave this alone, Tanaka? Lucy will be happy when I’m done.”

  I didn’t dare move unless she tried to really fire on me this time. I really didn’t want to pull a gun on my girlfriend’s mother. “Whatever you’re planning—whatever good you think you’re doing—doesn’t matter any longer. You’ve stolen charms, and you broke fae canons.”

  “This isn’t fair.” She gasped. “I lost Frankie. You stole Lucy. Let me have this.”

  “You did all those things yourself.” I took several steps toward her. When she didn’t summon a weapon, I summoned zip ties. “You will face your crimes.”

  She lifted a hand. “Wait. Wait, wait.” She sucked in a ragged breath. “Let me finish what I started. Let me get him back, and then I’ll go with you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? Who are you bringing back?”

  “Frankie.” Tears slipped down her sweat-stained cheeks. “He can help Lucy until her curse is broken. Don’t you want her to be normal?”

  I clenched my jaw, every muscle vibrating in my body. I stomped to her, snatched up her arm, and spun her around. “Lucy is normal. She always has been.”

  From the corridor beyond, the murmuring I’d thought might be water grew louder and the chanting became more distinct. Penny’s eyes widened and she peered at me from over her shoulder. “Let me go, Tanaka. I promise Frankie is a better option than what Sythradiafol wants.”

  I paused, my blood chilling. “What does she want?”

  “To rule humanity. What else?”

  Chapter 22

  “Penny plans on raising Frankie from the dead.”

  My chest cramped as I scoured the past year for signs Ray was wrong, but should I really be this surprised? Mom talked constantly about Dad, and her expression tinged with jealousy and grief whenever she watched a family. She was so lost and lonely without him she couldn’t see what was in front of her anymore. My face ached and my eye burned, but I couldn’t allow it to stop me as
I raced along Archaeology Way toward the Atlantic Ocean. Mal needed my support; Mom needed me to stop her.

  I had to stop her. If she succeeded, they’d still be on the run not only from the bureau, but the fae too. Using Sythradiafol as a vessel to bring Dad back from the dead had to be against fae canons. And why would Mom choose her? Dad would be trapped in Sythradiafol’s body. I didn’t believe Mom or Dad would be happy about that. Or maybe they wouldn’t mind, since he’d have his own thoughts and emotions, and she’d have him back.

  I doubted she’d be happy with her husband inhabiting a fae, though. Unless there was a way to reanimate his body. Cold settled across my shoulders. I guessed she’d exhume his body. I shuddered. Dad was over a year dead. I don’t care how well preserved a body is, things wouldn’t be right. He’d essentially be a zombie, and zombies were not cool. Or fun to have around. I imagined at Thanksgiving dinner he’d drop a finger in the gravy when he passed the peas. Could you djinni-glue a finger back on? Or worse: I’d have to add brains to his pizza. How would I go about getting those without raising alarms?

  Why would she go through all this trouble? She and Dad had been together for a long time. Mom and Mags talked about it a lot when they were in the mood to travel down memory lane. They’d told me stories about some of their earlier adventures. Mom was lonely; she was still grieving. But life wasn’t over for her yet. She still had years, decades, even centuries ahead of her to find joy and happiness.

  She wasn’t alone. I was still here. I’d stayed by her side when he’d passed. I’d held her when she cried, and, yes, I challenged her, but I wasn’t the one leaving her alone. The backs of my eyes burned, my right more than ever. I glanced at the compass and noticed the arrow had veered to the left, and I adjusted course until it was pointing straight ahead.

  I tried to swallow past the lump in my throat. Why wasn’t I enough? I didn’t think I was a terrible daughter and we always had fun together in our downtime. It’d been my bad luck all along. If I’d wished to break my curse on Rasputin’s bones, would that have made her happy? I’d assumed she’d pushed for it so I’d be more like Dad and she’d benefit from good luck again. But my magic was behaving weird and I was starting to worry there might be more to it—something not normal. Maybe she’d known I’d never be like Dad all along.

  First it was the faery trap. Mal insisted only fae could break those, yet I’d broken mine. I’m also pretty sure I made Sythradiafol tell me what she wanted with the piece of the Blarney and the ancient. I had had the same pain in my head when I’d broken the faery trap and my nose bled both times. Yet I never had a cold sensation like when I used sarcasm to curse things. Mal was right. This was one more secret I needed to keep, which meant I couldn’t use it. Whatever it was.

  The tip of my twister glided against the manic slip-N-slide pathway of the ocean’s surface toward Newfoundland. I slowed slightly, not because I was crying—I wasn’t!—but because racing across water was taxing, and while I was gaining more stamina each day, I didn’t want to press my luck. Literally. So, I pushed away thoughts of my mother raising my father from the dead in a volcano and focused on the compass Hunter had given me. I veered when the arrow veered. This was way easier than GPS. I hoped she’d tell me where she bought it because I could totally use one of these.

  Before I knew it, I hit landfall and made a graceful arc south. I picked up the pace and sped along the east coastline. It wasn’t until around Massachusetts that the Lantern Road became busier and I needed to slow down before I caused an accident. Was there such a thing as smoke insurance? Time passed easily when I only focused on the compass. And after a while, the arrow spun in circles—a sign I needed to leave the Lantern Road. I halted, willed my smoke away, and glanced around for the closest door. I found one to the Iron Realm and ducked out into Newport News, Virginia. My ears plugged from the transition.

  I followed the compass, wondering if I’d need a taxi to get where I was going from here, when I noticed the arrow pointing at a realty sign for an empty strip mall on the other side of the street. I groaned. I did not want to get on Realty Lane. That place was nuts and I didn’t have time to deal with the crazies in there—especially if I was caught again.

  But Mom needed me to talk sense into her and Mal needed me to be the one to stop her. Making sure no one watched me, I pried open the door to Realty Lane and skipped onto the sun-drenched street lined by picket fences. Working my jaw to pop my ears, I shifted to smoke and kept to the middle of the lane like everyone else. The compass directed me farther south.

  It was strenuous watching the street for faery traps and the compass when I only had one good eye. My right had swollen shut. I suppressed a sigh. I’ve been injured before. The ring finger on my left hand was a sixteenth of an inch shorter than it was four years ago. The nail looked a little weird when I grew them out, but otherwise everything was normal.

  But losing sight was a huge deal. I already had crap balance; this would make it worse. It’d take time to adjust. I would drop a lot of pizza dough when I tossed it in the air, and my knife skills would deteriorate until I adjusted to one eye. But I would adjust. I rolled with what was dealt to me before I’d learned I was a djinni and magic was impacting my life through my sarcasm. I’d be fine inside a year; I was sure of it.

  But what if this was worse than losing sight? What if this disfigurement kept me from getting jobs? I shook my head. I couldn’t think about who else might take issue with me becoming one-eyed Lucy. Pirates were cool. I’d get an eyepatch and wear heavy eyeliner.

  Before I knew it, I was traveling along Key West, across the Gulf of Mexico and into Cuba. I skipped along the Gulf one more time and made landfall in Honduras. My heart, which was already beating fast, thudded heavily in my chest, the sound reminding me of dough slapping against the counter. I still had a long way to go, but I wasn’t far.

  I really hoped Mal stalled Mom before she got to the volcano. I really hoped she’d be reasonable, at least with me. I wished I was enough for her.

  I switched roads once more to Archaeology Way and took it all the way to San Martin Sacatepéquez, where I stumbled out into the bright mid-morning sun. Sweat dampened my hair and dripped down my back. I sucked in air like I hadn’t had a decent breath in weeks. Someone gave me a weird expression but kept walking.

  I retrieved my phone. I had a text from Hunter. The bureau had been called, and Chicabal Lake had a daily portal to the bailiwick. I had seventy-five minutes to get there before I’d have to wait a day for the next one.

  Why would the fae do that? What would happen if humans had stumbled onto that portal to the bailiwick? Wouldn’t that break canons? I frowned. Fae played loose with their own set of rules and weren’t against changing the guidelines to suit their needs.

  A taxi rolled to a stop in front of me and the driver leaned across the seat. “¿Necesitas un paseo, chica? Hospital?”

  “Huh?” Oh! I had a language translator app on my phone. I opened it and hit the translate button.

  “Can you take me to Chicabal Lake?” my app asked in Spanish, and the driver motioned for me to get in. I got in.

  Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a vantage point to view the lake. The volcano loomed like a father rising from the dead, and a trail to the lake wended through the trees. The driver asked for his fare and I shoved a twenty in his hands. He muttered something but didn’t stop me when I got out of the cab.

  My phone remained obstinately silent. As I adjusted the messenger bag, I thought about calling for Mags to leave her bottle, but I couldn’t bring myself to. She needed the healing her bottle would provide for her. I hoped there wasn’t permanent damage to her legs.

  At least the weather was pleasant. Since I’d bled all over my jacket, my short-sleeved honeybee shirt was all that I had on, and while passing people along the trail, my blood began pumping through my limbs. Of course, I was also half jogging up a mountain to a faery portal so I could save my mom and boyfriend. I was in more of a hurry than they
were.

  I received strange looks when I passed people. Whispers about my face followed me. I hadn’t worried that the cut was bad aside from losing sight in my eye. But my face was damaged. What if I scared children? There weren’t any close by to test my theory on. Then it hit me.

  What if Mal didn’t find me attractive anymore?

  No longer paying attention to my surroundings, I crashed into the couple in front of me. The woman sneered, then balked at me. Her boyfriend recoiled.

  I wanted to hide, to cover my face, but my wound hadn’t healed yet. Things needed to breathe. I touched my cheek. It was still moist from the glue, but when I pulled away, blood glistened on my fingers. I hurried around the couple, gingerly wiping at my face. The blood wasn’t freely flowing. Now that I was aware of it, I could feel it drying on my cheeks and jaw. Maybe that’s why people were freaking out.

  I unraveled my braid and flipped my hair over the right side, letting it fall like a privacy curtain over my eye. I reached the top not long after that. My breathing was ragged and I was sweating yet again. Sheesh, what a sight I was.

  A gunshot exploded below.

  People screamed and shouted. I gasped, racing to the railing, and stared at the lake below me. Clouds covered the water and I swore I saw a plume of green and tan smoke swirl in the clouds.

  “Call the cops!” someone yelled.

  I checked the time and swore. There wasn’t much more time until the clouds rolled out. I hopped the railing and slid on my ass toward the beach. More people shouted. Sticks and stones tore into my palms, shredded the seat of my jeans, and tangled in my hair. When I hit the sandy beach, I rolled onto my face and I desperately wanted to lie there and wallow, but I couldn’t. The clouds were receding. I heaved to my feet, sprinted toward the shore, and dove into the lake.