by Kim Faulks
The machine beeped; the first lot of data waited. I crossed my fingers and didn't move. The third section was what I needed. It had to work…it had to work. There was nothing else—this was my last hope.
The computer beeped again, data number two.
“Anything you want, okay? I’ll go to church. Every fucking Sunday. I’ll stop drinking. Hell, I’ll stop saying Hell.”
I shoved from the chair and walked to the small refrigerator and grabbed a can from the rack. I didn’t need the sugar. I was high on adrenaline, but God I needed the taste. I drained the Cola and waited…and waited.
Until the computer beeped. Data number three.
My knees felt weak. This was my moment. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones. Joslyn’s cells were the miracle I’d waited my entire life to find. I hit the mouse and the screen came to life. One click and it was done. I’d rescue Thorn, and take her to her family…
And then?
I swallowed hard. They’d welcome me with open arms and I’d finally repay the life I took—the young shifter’s face lingered as I hit the button. I still remembered the brain and the blood splattered across my hands as I held her.
I’d done my best. So help me God, I’d done my best. “This is it. This is finally it.”
The sequence played out. The double helix was severed, and Joslyn’s strand moved in. Human on human. The possibilities were endless. I didn't have the problems with shifters. Didn’t have the physical impairments, or the aversion for anger. All I had was…life.
The strand recombined, and started the healing process. I clenched my fists, ready to punch the air. I could feel the magic as the genome fell away. It was working…it was wo…
The strand lost its glow, and slowly shriveled.
“No…no…” I shoved the chair, moving closer to the screen as the DNA collapsed and died.
There was a second where the world stood still. A second where everything seemed to stop—my heart—my will—my everything.
Until I gripped the keyboard and threw. The black blur cut across the air and hit the wall with a brutal crack. I grabbed and threw, anything I could get my hands on, pens, pages, clipboards, the can…
“Goddamn you! Goddamn you piece of shit!”
I sucked in a breath as my body rocked. A chill swept through me, taking the sting from my anger, leaving me hollow and strange.
It was all for nothing. Everything, all for nothing.
I was never getting her back—never seeing her again.
I’d failed.
Never, the deep guttural voice whispered.
I spun, dragging in the air and searched the room.
Do you want to pass?
The echo filled my head, and with it came the Dragon. Magnificent wings spanned my memory. Lightning streaked from the midnight sky into the tips, bleeding midnight blue into white. I’d never seen anything so powerful.
He lowered his head. Green eyes seized mine. Well, Doctor? Do you want to pass?
And for a second I was back there, in that place between life and death.
Who was I kidding? That type of magic couldn’t be dissected and re-created. I dropped my gaze to the machines—not like this.
And if he couldn’t be re-made, then neither could any of them.
Or Joslyn. Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. Maybe science couldn’t help me.
Maybe something else could.
My mind raced with the concept. I wasn’t naive. I knew there were—other things. Other people—people with…powers. The word stuck in my mind. One thing separated me from the Elons, and the Leons. I dropped my fingers to the button of my lab coat and worked the opening free—I wasn’t too proud to ask the questions.
And I damn well wanted to hear the answers.
I shrugged the jacket free and left the mess. My religion couldn’t help me—not anymore. I shoved through the door and strode through the breakroom. There was one place I knew. I’d heard the nurses whisper about it in the halls, maybe there I’d find what I needed to get Thorn back.
The hallway was dark and quiet as I turned right and headed for the hallway to take me home. Angel Home had been my entire life’s work. I put everything on the line here, my money, my reputation—maybe it was all for nothing.
Maybe all we were doing was giving them somewhere to say goodbye?
The thought lingered as I shoved through the door and stepped into my home. The foundations of my dream were fatally cracked. There was no breakthrough—no cure.
Not for Sickle Cell. Not for anything.
I grabbed my bag and my keys and made for the back door. The night air kissed me with frigid lips as I stepped outside. I shuddered and stabbed the button on my remote, watching the lights flash as the doors unlocked.
My teeth chattered and gnashed, filling the interior with the sound as I shoved the key into the ignition.
“Come on, start for me.”
It’d been weeks since I drove. It was a wonder the damn thing started at all. The engine came alive with a weak cough and then surged to life. I thumbed the heat all the way to the right and waited for the first lick of warmth before reaching for my belt.
Muscles pulled, pain flared. I slowed the movement. I wasn’t fully healed—not yet. The clasp clicked into place and I dragged the gears into drive and eased the small car out of the garage and around the side of the house.
Headlights lit up the way. I caught a blur of movement and a chunk taken out of the hedge. Like the thing had been torn apart right through the middle. “Goddamn kids. Can't have anything nice.”
I dragged the wheel right and waited for the bump before I pressed the accelerator. I had an idea where I was going. But that part of the city wasn’t really my thing. If it wasn’t a restaurant, or grocers, I tended to stay away. I had no need for comfort, no need for friends.
God, no wonder I was in trouble. My life consisted of a white room and stainless steel machines, but in a way they spoke back to me—without the drama. I followed Fourth Avenue all the way around to where it branched off and took Muscat left into the heart of the city. The car knew the route. I fought the need to stop at Pedro’s for the best chili crab this side of the border and instead kept on driving to where the streets turned darker and the sides of buildings more colorful.
Graffiti covered anything that stood still long enough. West Boys and Marker Bros covered the fronts of shops with thick black letters and splashes of green and red. Only one place stood out from the rest.
Bright lights lit up the front windows of a quaint white building. A pretty white wooden sign hung from the ceiling, Madam Klein—Fortune Teller and Mystic.
I scanned the street up and down as I slowed the car to a crawl. Yep, this was definitely the place. The building’s lights were blinding between darkened alleyways.
I pulled the car over and eased off the brake until I passed the alley and parked in the shadows. The building was the only thing alight. A neon sign farther down the road flashed in the rearview mirror—other than that, this was it.
“Okay.” I leaned over and glanced through the windows.
The place kinda gave me the creeps. I glanced at the clock and then turned to stare through the back window. It was getting late. “Now or never, Angel. Which is it?”
I shoved the car into park and reached for the key. The streets were quiet, nothing out here to hurt me…I swallowed a maniacal laugh at the absurd thought. The monsters knew where I lived anyway.
The engine died with the turn of my wrist. I snatched my bag from the front seat and hit the button on my belt. Come on. You can do this. You’ve fought wolves remember? “And big fucking cats. Gotta remember the cats,” I whispered with one hand on the handle.
I dropped my shoulder and cracked open the door. Desperation drove me here. But in the cold night air this all seemed so fucking stupid.
I waited, not yet ready to climb out. What the fuck was I doing here anyway? I was a scientist. I created, not fucking manifested wi
th meaningless words and a wish. “True, but right now all you’re creating is fucking death.”
The words lingered as I stepped out of the car. I gripped the keys and shoved the door. Shadows clung to the corners of the alley as I took a step, skirting the back of my hatchback before I pressed the lock. Headlights flashed and then left me in the dark; for once I was glad of my flat shoes as I raced to the curb.
“I’m all good,” I whispered and hurried toward the brightly lit building.
I skimmed my soles against a thick mat out of habit and shoved the door inwards. A bell clanged above me. I winced at the sound and scanned the empty store.
“Be with you in a second!” A clipped British voice filtered out through the doorway.
The door eased closed behind me. I moved closer inside, staring through the glass counters at gemstones, rings, necklaces, and small velvet bags, inhaling the seductive scent of sandalwood.
The place wasn’t what I expected. Rows of books lined the far wall. I stepped closer, scanning spines.
The Magic of Mortals. Spells for Love. How to Spell Success. Make him love you again.
“Yes, sorry. How can I help you, friend?”
I turned at the sound and stared at a plump, middle-aged woman dressed in purple. She smiled, wiped her hands on a towel and seized my gaze. Suddenly, I had no idea what to say.
“Honey, you look white as a ghost, can I offer you a hot cup of tea? Just brewed some rosehip for myself.”
“No, thank you,” I muttered with a shake of my head. “I just…ah…”
“Here for a reading?” She dropped her gaze to the fresh scar on the side of my neck. “How bout a spell? Problems with love?” She reached under the counter and withdrew a stack of playing cards. “I can offer you guidance, a gris gris.” She shuffled the deck as her voice softened. “I can even put a hex on the sonofabitch who did that to you. Make you a poppet, put peppercorns in his eyes and needles in his heart.”
I flinched with her words and reached for my throat, tracing the mess of lines with my fingers. “No, I’m here for…are you a real witch?”
Her smile was fast. “Of course, honey. All spellwork comes with a money back guarantee, although they do take some time to work.”
I shook my head and stepped closer to the counter. This wasn't the answer I wanted. “No, I mean. Are you a real witch? I need…”
Panic rose to the surface. My mind was filled with dying DNA and glistening white teeth. My body shook. The words seemed to slip from my lips. “I need a real witch. I need someone…I need shifter magic. I need to…” The Dragon pushed to the surface. “I need someone who deals with Dragons.”
Her eyes darkened. Gone was the motherly concern, gone was the sweet older lady. She stopped shuffling the cards and placed them back under the counter. “Listen lady. I don’t know what you've got yourself mixed up in, but those kinds of answers you don’t want to find. They are not our kind, and we’re not theirs. There’s a reason our worlds are opposite, and there's a reason there’s a divide.” She leaned closer, scanning me up and down. “I don’t need to pull a card to see you're perilously close to that line, child. What you need to know, or what you think you need to know, is best left alone.”
She forced a smile, curling the edges of her mouth higher than normal and reached under the counter. “Here.” She slid a red velvet bag across the glass toward me.
Banishing, said the card tied to the string.
“Now get out,” she spat through the smile. “And don’t ever come here again.”
17
Doc Angel
“Please,” I whispered. “I have nowhere else to go.”
Her fake smile never flinched. She just stared and slowly turned her head toward the door. I gave a slow nod and gripped the velvet bag. This was my last chance, my last plea, and now I had nothing.
A sob tore from my chest as I stumbled toward the door. The frigid night air pierced my skin and closed around my mind. I saw the door, saw my hand as I gripped the handle and pushed—but I felt nothing.
Not hate, not sorrow.
Nothing.
The door closed with a bang behind me. I stood on the porch, unable to move, until the bright lights died, plunging me into darkness.
What now…what now…what now…
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All I could do was stand there. I flinched at the snap of a lock behind me and turned to stare through the window. The old woman was a blur in the night, and then she was gone.
Move…the voice inside my head whispered. But my feet were frozen, my mind numb. I had nowhere to move to and nowhere to go. I had nothing left but an empty void and the echo of a Dragon cry.
Don't think about her. Don’t remember…
The sole of my shoe skimmed the path as I stepped off the porch. A streetlight slowly flickered across the road, stealing the last traces of light I had. I didn’t care about the dark now. Didn’t care about the time. Didn’t care about anything.
I stared at the keys between my fingers and my mind was a blank. What did I have to do?
Why was I here?
I scanned the darkened road. This wasn’t home. This was my…my…wooden place with the sick kids...Angel Home. That’s right. How did I get here?
Keys…car. I took a step and searched the road, catching sight of my car farther down the street. My footsteps echoed and I felt the slap in my chest. I fumbled with the buttons, pressing anything until the lights flashed and the locks thumped.
The rattle of a car wrenched my gaze to the darkened alley. Under the flickering streetlights shadows moved, scurrying behind dumpsters, blending amongst an outline of something rising. A hunched figure slowly straightened. The faint rattle of bones followed. My hands shook, rattling the keys as I stared at that thing.
The shadow shuffled forward, taking a step and then another. I grazed the air at my side and hit my car.
Run! Get the fuck out of here!
I stumbled backwards, skirting the boot as the tired old voice slipped through the air. “You have questions?”
I licked my lips and wrenched my gaze left and then right.
“You want to know how to divide the beast from the self?”
That thing stepped from the alley, moving slowly. Light flickered, leaving half her face in the dim. She was old. Just an old woman with wrinkles upon wrinkles and dark, hooded eyes. I licked my lips and yanked my gaze to the shop. She must’ve heard me. Must’ve…
“Yes.”
The word was free before I knew. It lingered in the air and then died under the scuff of her shoe.
“So you want to create craft?”
I struggled to understand.
She stabbed the ground with the end of a cane and stepped around the edge of the building to face me. “You want to wield potions and brews?”
“No, I want to—”
“Call yourself a healer. Call yourself saved. All you want to do is kill—wolves, Dragons…yourself.”
Fire lashed my cheek. I raised my hand, touching my skin, feeling the slap of her words. She crossed the pathway and neared the curb. The hairs on my arms stood on end. Something whispered across the back of my mind—witch.
I wrenched my head left and stared at the darkened store.
“You’ll break him you know,” she hissed, dragging my gaze to hers. “Break his Dragon, break his heart. You’ll taint the pure until he won’t recognize himself. You'll never see what's right in front of you...until one day it'll be too late. So much potential.”
Tears pricked my eyes, turning icy on my cheek. “I just want her back. I just want my…”
One brow rose. The corner of her lip curled as she shuffled forward. “Your? Your what? Your child, your Dragon, your self…what do you want healer? You want to see? You want to truly see my kind?”
Do you want to pass?
“You want to see him, touch him, love him? You want answers to your questions?”
Empty heart, empty mind. I had n
othing left to give.
Dreadlocks swayed as she moved. Bits of bone and tufts of feathers stuck out from the ends. “You wanted answers. I’ll give you answers. But I want one in return.”
My body trembled with an undercurrent of power. This woman, this witch seemed to draw me toward her—like a black hole of power.
“Anything,” I muttered and mounted the curb.
She reached out a hand, lifting it high to cup the air. It felt so natural to step into her, to feel the bones under her thin fingers, to feel the scrape of her nails against my skin as she murmured. “Do you want to see and not glimpse, my Angel child? Do you want the curtain of mortality to fade away? She’s right, you know. The charlatan in the store. There’s a line between your kind and mine and it’s a line once crossed can never be uncrossed.”
Her power resonated like a hum, calling that empty part of my soul. The part that ached—the part that searched, that wanted. I closed my eyes as her hand cupped my cheek—the part that was lonely for her.
“You feel me, don’t you child? Do you recognize my blood?”
I could do nothing but nod.
“It’s the same blood that runs through your veins—and Joslyn’s. You fought to save her child, just as I’m fighting to save mine. Do you understand what I’m telling you, my sweet Angel?”
I opened my eyes to find hers. Fighting to save hers?
That hum inside me deepened, as though she was my nucleus. Her child… “I’m yours?”
Her thin lips curled to a crooked smile. “How else would I know to come to you? How else would I feel your pain?”
My mind raced, searching my family line. I knew my parents, my grandparents. I’d seen photos of my great grandparents.
“Don’t bother, child. Your head would spin. You need no more proof than what I’m about to give you. Now, my question. Do you want to dance all over the immortal line and beyond? Do you want to feel it in the marrow of your bones, where your spells and science can’t see, can’t touch, can’t belong? It’s never belonged there, Angel. It will never belong. But you can, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, blood of my blood?”