Panic hit her, but also cold, hard reality.
Her reflexes kicked in.
Her muscles recovered a few full beats before her mind.
Straining, gasping, now sweating, she forced her bound hands and arms up, using all of her strength. Pain shot up to her shoulders, clawing at her stomach, agony as she resisted. The pain grew so intense, she thought those silver strands might rip her apart.
She forced her arms up anyway.
Fire-like agony ripped through her, making her cry out.
Gritting her teeth, she reached back behind her head. She managed to unsheathe both of her swords at once, her lips murmuring spells as she brought them up and around.
The blades glowed.
The tattoos on her arms and shoulders sparked with blue and white light.
Bringing the swords down––she sliced through the lit strands.
She threw herself backwards in the same motion.
Every ounce of her weight and muscle propelled her away from the wall, the instant the twin swords severed the snake-like coils.
10
What’s In A Name?
When Alexis managed to focus her eyes, she was lying on her back on the cement floor.
Her back hurt.
Her ass hurt, too.
She felt sick, like something rotten had crawled into her throat and was making its way down into her belly. She panted, fighting to suck in oxygen. She pushed herself up on her elbows and winced when those felt bruised and possibly broken, too.
A hand appeared in front of her.
It briefly exuded smoke, then re-solidified.
Alexis blinked at it, then looked down at her own hands.
For the first time, she realized she still gripped both swords.
Waving off the Traveler’s offer to help, she rippled her body upwards, leaping back to her feet without releasing either sword. Landing squarely on her boots, she frowned, looking around the dark, faintly musty-smelling space.
Focusing on the lion painting on the wall, she remembered where she was, and why.
She remembered what happened––how she ended up on her back on the floor of an old animal cage.
Sheathing her swords in a single movement, she turned on the Traveler.
“Did you see that?” she demanded.
The Traveler’s handsome face didn’t so much as twitch.
He held her gaze, his voice the faintest bit dry as he gauged her eyes.
“You mean a few hundred light ropes, shining like metal, wrapping around you and trying to forcibly pull you into the wall?”
The Traveler snorted, his eyes cold, nearly the color of that metal.
“Yeah. I might have noticed. Didn’t you hear me shouting at you? Or feel me trying to drag you backwards? You’re damned lucky I can dematerialize… if I’d been human I might have lost a hand. Or an arm.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending at first.
Then her head turned.
Her eyes found the winged lion.
It looked normal.
Cement and paint, crusted with a few layers of dust and dirt. The light she’d felt and seen was gone. The metal strands, or tentacles, or whatever they had been––were gone.
She could still sense the portal there.
Using her hands, she began drawing protective spells, making precise, geometric symbols with her hands, murmuring the words under her breath. She felt her arms warm as the tattoos buried deep within her skin glowed, lighting up the dark space.
The Traveler stepped back, watching her silently.
She gave him a few surreptitious glances as she continued covering the portal in layers of protection. That time she did more than simply obscure it from view; she drew from memory a number of more offensive spells meant to keep out dark forces.
She only knew a few spells for that, unfortunately, but she spent some time going over the handful she remembered, adding layer after layer of protection and coiling in an alarm that would let her know if the door got breached in any way.
She would call Jaime tomorrow, see if she could obtain more spells.
Better spells.
That, or she’d go to The Vault in person.
It was possible Jaime knew of what happened already. She wasn’t entirely sure what species the Necromancer was, not exactly, but the Ancients put him in charge of the Vault for a reason. No one knew spells like Jaime did. He often knew other things, too, things she couldn’t explain how he knew, and Jaime wasn’t one to volunteer information.
Truthfully, he scared the piss out of her some days.
She wasn’t entirely sure he was a being a light, even if she respected his role.
Her hands shook slightly as she finished the last of her spells.
She managed to keep her fingers and palms steady enough to draw the precise geometric forms, watching as the lit symbols left her fingers, wrapping themselves into the energy field around the wall.
When she finished, she was still trembling.
She would need to learn more offensive spells.
The thought was there and gone, but the realization shook her.
She’d primarily seen her role as guardian in the past… protector.
Now it felt like she had to be ready to go to war.
When she glanced at the Traveler, he was watching her, a faint frown on his mouth.
“What did you do?” he said. “Just now?”
She stared at him for a beat longer.
Then, too exhausted to even try to answer his question, she turned away from him, walking back to the corridor that ran behind the cages.
As her strides lengthened, she motioned with her head for him to follow.
Unlike the walk in, she didn’t look at any of the graffiti this time, or glance inside the abandoned cement cages that had been built as part of the WPA program. She didn’t look for signs of humans having broached the space, or any indication anyone had been interfering with her spells, or had stumbled upon any of the magic tripwires she’d set.
When she felt him hesitating behind her, she called back to him.
“Come, Traveler.”
Her voice sounded deadened, even to her.
“Come where?” he said, his voice wary as he began to follow. “Where are you taking me now, Lightbringer? More portals?”
After she’d taken a few more steps in the dirty, trash-filled corridor with its falling down ceiling and walls, it hit Alexis that he was annoyed with her for not using his name.
Clearly, he thought she stuck with “Traveler” to send some sort of message.
Alexis wondered if she was.
Sending a message, that is.
If so, she wondered if the message was for him, or if she meant it for herself.
She didn’t have the energy to peel that apart, either.
“I’m tired, Cal,” she said only. “I want to go home.”
Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder at him, meeting those shockingly-light, stunningly beautiful eyes. One shone amber now, the other violet-blue.
“I assume you have no place to stay?” she added politely. “On this Earth, that is?”
He blinked, as if surprised by her words.
Then, frowning slightly, he slowly shook his head, even as he seemed to be studying whatever he saw in her face.
Alexis only nodded, turning back in the direction she’d been walking.
“My place it is, then.”
Still walking, she nodded once, as if it was decided.
She didn’t slow her steps.
She didn’t look back to note his reaction.
Even so, her ears picked up the precise moment when he began to follow.
11
Houseguest
It seemed to go much faster, walking through the fields and forest of Griffith Park on the way back down to the road.
Despite what the Traveler might have thought, she didn’t go this way to torture him.
She almost always parked outside th
e park to visit the portal.
Even when she parked inside the gates, she did so on a road that didn’t feed obviously into the Old Zoo.
She’d gotten into the habit of taking the “scenic route” in nearly everything she did––everything related to the portals, at least. It was simply one facet of her attempts to hide their location from anyone who might be keeping an eye on her.
The way she figured it, someone might be able to track her car to the street in Los Feliz where she left it outside the glow of streetlights.
Even that struck her as unlikely, given the precautions she took, and the number of ways she’d spelled her car, but of course it was possible.
But it was even more unlikely they could track her, at least not precisely, not without her noticing, as she made her way through the city’s largest public park, in the dark, without walking on a single designated path… particularly given her ability to sense auras and presences for up to ten miles in any direction.
Most supernaturals in Los Angeles weren’t even aware of her.
Humans had never even heard of her.
Lightbringers didn’t exactly show up in most of the paranormal shows streaming on cable.
Supernaturals only knew about her if they had some personal interest in the portals, and then they generally learned about her the hard way.
Unlocking the driver’s side door, she jerked open the black-painted panel of her old Buick Skylark with a sigh.
She slid behind the wheel on the cream-colored leather seat, and stuck the keys in the ignition. Then, without glancing up to see if the Traveler still followed her, she leaned over the long bench seat to unlock the passenger-side door.
She’d had the Skylark refurbished, years ago, and kept it tuned up and in perfect shape ever since, even making a few modernizing touches of her own, mainly to the engine, but also to add a few touches like automatic locks, a working air conditioner, and a decent alarm system.
She left the old AM radio alone, as well as the hand-crank windows.
She had all of the upholstery replaced, and new carpet put in, along with the brand-new, sleek black paint job. She replaced most of the chrome, both inside and out.
She didn’t drive a ton, particularly not for a Los Angeles native, but when she did, she liked to be comfortable.
The Traveler slid into the passenger side of the leather bench as soon as she’d unlocked the door, reconfiguring his smoky outline as he peered around at the inside of the vehicle.
She sat up once he’d closed the door with a squeak and a slam.
Reaching for the steering column, she turned the key in the ignition, and the Skylark grumbled and growled into life.
She wanted a beer.
And a shower.
And maybe to fall asleep on her couch watching really bad television.
Or maybe an old rom-com from the eighties or nineties.
She still wanted that Chinese food, too.
The car growled a bit louder when she hit the gas lightly, letting the engine warm. After a minute or two, it fell into a deeper purr. As soon as she heard the sounds change, she put it in gear, taking them away from the dark street and down the hill towards Sunset Boulevard.
She barely remembered the drive home.
Luckily, it was a short one.
Between the location of the portal and the location of her club, The Red Whip, she chose to live in the hills above the Sunset Strip, in a semi-modern house that overlooked most of Hollywood and even downtown on clear days.
Across the street from her place lived an old artists’ commune built by Charlie Chaplin back in the days of silent films. The commune covered a chunk of the hill, its little cabins fashioned like tiny castles built for dwarves or elves.
It was perfect for her.
She pulled off the side street and into her driveway, hitting the button to open her garage door as soon as the nose of the Skylark aimed down. She entered the garage with scarcely a pause, pulling up against the old railroad tie that sat a few feet from the wall.
It didn’t occur to her until she killed the Buick’s engine that she and the Traveler hadn’t exchanged a single word since they left the abandoned zoo.
Glancing over at him now, she saw him looking around her garage, once more wearing an inscrutable expression.
Pulling the keys from the Buick’s ignition, she continued to watch him as she snapped the latch for the car door, only looking away when she hauled herself off the leather seat and shut the glossy black panel behind her.
The Traveler followed, shutting his door right after she shut hers.
He continued to follow Alexis as she fumbled with her keys, making her way to the top of the cement steps leading into her house. Unlocking the door between the garage and her first floor, she tugged it open and walked in, reaching back to hold it open long enough for the Traveler to grab the wooden panel in one hand.
Once inside, even with company, she felt herself start to relax.
The house, which must have been the height of modern style circa 1953 or so, still reminded her of something from old magazine spreads about Hollywood from that time period. The fact that she’d half-filled it with midcentury furniture didn’t exactly lessen that impression, but like with the car, she’d added in a lot of contemporary touches.
Tossing her keys in the glass candy jar on the counter as she passed by the edge of the kitchen, she stretched her arms over her head, exhaling in a sigh as she combed her fingers through her brown and blue-streaked hair and stretched her back.
Glancing at the Traveler, she gestured around at her sofas and the sliding glass windows overlooking a wooden deck and the lights of West Hollywood and the Sunset Strip.
“Make yourself at home,” she told him. “I’m going to take a shower.”
He nodded, glancing around warily.
Looking at him, she realized she hadn’t offered to take his coat, or get him anything to drink, like she might have with a human guest.
But then, he wasn’t a human guest.
He was staying with her now, and for gods knew how long.
Given that, he could find the damned coatrack and her refrigerator himself.
She knew it wasn’t exactly charitable or kind to think that way, but she was too mentally wiped-out to care.
“You can order food,” she told him, almost as an afterthought, glancing at him a second time as she realized she maybe did feel a little guilty. “Whatever you want.”
Pulling out her mobile phone, she turned around, then walked it back to him, opening up a food delivery app as she walked.
“Here,” she said. “They have all my credit card info. Get whatever you want. Whatever looks good.”
He looked a little bewildered, using his finger cautiously to scroll through pictures after she showed him how it worked.
“What do you want?” he asked finally, after his puzzlement didn’t fade.
Looking at him, she smiled, in spite of herself.
“Sorry,” she said. “I forgot you’re really, really new in town.”
She took the phone back from him and scrolled through a few of her favorites, wondering which would be least weird to an interdimensional being.
Finally, she started showing him photos.
“What about this?” she said patiently.
He grimaced at the photo of a pepperoni pizza.
“And this?” she said, showing him a photo of a sandwich.
His lips pursed at that, too.
She picked up a thread of distrust in his eyes, and decided to move on.
She showed him a few more photos, and decided he looked the least weirded out by Indian food, of all things. She decided Indian food would work for her, too; she would just have to fulfill her Chinese craving some other night.
She ordered five main dishes, just to make sure there was something there he’d like, three orders of naan bread, a pile of samosas, some chicken tikka appetizers, and some vegetable skewers.
Finish
ing up with payment and her address, she put the phone on the counter.
“Come here,” she told him, beckoning.
The Traveler followed her to her main entryway, and her front door.
Alexis pointed at it. “If a loud noise comes from that, open the door, and take the bags of food they give you. Okay?”
The Traveler nodded, looking faintly relieved. “Okay. I can do that.”
She pointed at the coat rack next.
“You can hang your coat there, if you want. Or you can put it in the closet…”
She pointed at the entryway closet door.
Still thinking a bit, and sighing, she added,
“If you’re thirsty, there are glasses in there…” She pointed at her kitchen cabinets over the pony wall. “Water in there…” She pointed at the kitchen’s filtered water faucet. “Juice, wine, beer, and probably some other drinks in there…” She pointed at her fridge.
She stopped, frowning faintly as she tried to think if she was forgetting anything.
When she glanced at him, he gave her a faint smile.
“I think I can manage from that, Lightbringer. Thank you.”
She grunted. “Good. I’m going to take a shower. Don’t burn the place down.”
His smile widened.
She didn’t bother to ask him what that meant.
Turning on her heel, she headed gratefully for the hallway to the master bedroom.
Thank the gods she had a spare bedroom, at least.
12
The Others
When she returned to her living room, Alexis paused in the entrance to the high-ceilinged room, glancing around at the dimmed lights.
The overhead lights she’d turned on when they walked in from the garage no longer shone from the fifties-style lamps hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Someone turned off the entryway light as well, and even the lamps she left on timer, for when she was out for most of the night, patrolling or working at the club.
The room was devoid of artificial light of any kind.
Lightbringer: An Enemies to Lovers Urban Fantasy with Demons, Portals, Witches, Renegade Gods, & Other Assorted Beasties (Light & Shadow Book 1) Page 8