Apocalyptic Mojo

by Cheever, Sam

  Blackthorne stood beside her, testing the air with his long fingers as well. “What are you thinking, Ardith? A reversal of the web?”

  She nodded.

  Draigh squinted at the area beneath the two mages’ testing fingers. He saw nothing. Lifting a hand, he called his guide. When the blue-tinged magic fluttered toward him and formed into a column above his hand, he could finally see the magic web shimmering blue beneath the light. “You can reverse this web?”

  “I think so.” Ardith’s fingers danced upon the air and, with his guide on, Draigh could see the web she created shimmering away from her to entangle itself within Edwige’s springy magic strands.

  “And make it do what exactly?” Draigh turned a doubtful look upward.

  “If I do it right it should pitch us back up to that ledge. Actually I’m not reversing the web so much as our magic signature.”

  He nodded. “From when we landed in it.”

  “Yes.”

  Draigh frowned. “Can’t Blackthorne just dislocation us into the cave?”

  Ardith shook her head, her fingers moving more quickly by the moment. “This web is meant to block other traveling magics. I’m getting around it by simply reversing our already present signature. If I’m right the magic won’t recognize the difference between our coming and going.”

  “You realize that won’t work for Blackthorne? His signature isn’t here.”

  The mage nodded. “I won’t be going in with you.”

  Ardith stopped weaving magic and looked at him, relief softening her shoulders. “You’re going back to Salem? Good.”

  The big mage didn’t affirm or deny her observation. Draigh caught his eye and knew from what he saw there that Blackthorne wasn’t planning on going back. He said nothing, preferring to allow the older mage to chart his own course.

  “There, that should do it.”

  With a final warning glance at Draigh, Blackthorne stepped back. “Good luck, mage, hunter. I’ll do what I can from the other side.”

  Ardith nodded. “Good luck, Blackthorne. Stay safe.” She looked at Sirius. “Meet us inside, pup.” Sirius whined and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

  Draigh frowned. “Sirius can travel into the mountain?”

  “He’ll come in through the cavern where we fought the zombies. Hopefully we’ll cut her off from both sides, trapping her in the middle. I’m counting on the element of surprise.”

  Draigh was amazed by the intelligence of her plan. He felt a new respect for her talents.

  A shout went up and the rock behind where Sirius had been standing exploded outward, sending shards to rip into their skin. Blackthorne popped away and Ardith grasped Draigh’s hand, startling him. “Quickly now, jump with me on three.”

  “One, two…” They leapt into the air and landed in the center of Edwige’s web. They barely touched the shimmery weave before they slammed together, chest to chest, and were flying upward, toward the ledge above. As soon as Draigh’s feet hit the rock he moved quickly away from the edge.

  Ardith’s laugh surprised him into a grin.

  “You weren’t really afraid I’d push you over again were you?”

  He lowered his head and touched her exquisitely soft lips in a kiss. “No sense tempting you.”

  Bullets slammed into the rock all around them and they had to duck, moving quickly through the door. Angry shouting followed them into Edwige’s sumptuous hidey hole.

  The place looked much the same as it had when they’d left it. At first glance it didn’t appear that the rogue witch had been there.

  Except for one thing. The smell of sulfur lay thick on the air.

  Draigh grabbed Ardith’s arm as she started forward and pulled her back, holding a finger over his lips to silence her.

  He called on his guide and waited as the guiding magics fluttered toward his outstretched hand and settled there. “Show me the cloaking magic.”

  The guide spun above his hand and burst outward in a shower of blue stars. The guide’s energy moved across the room and stopped, gathering into a shimmering veil of blue that showed an archway where once there had been the appearance of a solid wall.

  Ardith gasped. “That bitch.”

  Beyond the wall was another room. At its center, Edwige bent over a scrying pool, her hands moving rapidly as she stared into the roiling liquid. The rogue witch’s pretty round face lifted, showing surprise for a split second, before she had time to school it. She lifted her hands and the visible hole at the center of the faux wall shimmered and pulsed and then disappeared. Draigh drew his knives and headed toward the illusion.

  A shower of sparks announced Sirius’ arrival. Draigh spared him a look. He had a rotted arm hanging from between his jaws. Draigh grinned. “I guess I don’t need to ask you what you’ve been doing, pup.”

  Sirius whined and a picture formed in Draigh’s mind. He laughed. “Reconnaissance is good.”

  Draigh strode toward the wall and through it, ignoring the sting of power as he breeched Edwige’s magical cloak. Ducking a ball of witch fire, Draigh lunged forward, slicing his knives downward as Edwige drew her arm back for another strike. His knife hit the side of the scrying pool and Edwige sent her witch fire sizzling toward him.

  Draigh threw himself to the ground and rolled. The fire singed its way along his hip, melting flesh and sending pain boiling through him.

  Behind him Ardith countered the first ball of fire with a warning shot over Edwige’s head, obviously trying to subdue the rogue without killing her.

  Draigh knew the witch would never let herself be taken. The mages liked to believe they were more civilized than the sorceri of the authority because they didn’t kill the creatures they hunted.

  But the council submitted prisoners to slow, inhuman torture and a lifetime of imprisonment. Draigh believed it was kinder to just extinguish them. “Kill her, Ardith!”

  His witch ignored him and sent a magic net spinning toward Edwige. The rogue flashed away. The capture magic hit the wall behind where Edwige had been and exploded outward, enclosing a table and two chairs in its shimmery embrace.

  Draigh leapt to his feet and flew at the rogue, calling upon his powers to enhance his speed. He slammed into her and they tumbled sideways, falling into the scrying pool.

  Edwige pushed off him and shot to her feet, leaping out of the large, concrete vat with unnatural agility.

  Draigh floundered, fighting to follow her out. The fluid boiled around him, sizzling against his skin and sending agony coursing through him as his limbs struggled to pull him to the top. He sensed that the liquid was only a few feet deep but his body wouldn’t work with his mind to get him out. His limbs were numb, his mind unfocused.

  Mercury. The witch’s scrying pool was filled with deadly mercury. It worked to numb his magics and, in large enough quantities, would mean death to his kind.

  A heaviness pressed against his chest and his lungs forgot how to hold breath. The life-giving air escaped his lips, bubbling upward as he felt his heart slowing. Draigh’s mind started to shut down and his body stopped fighting. He sank heavily to the bottom of the dense liquid, a single heartbeat away from death.

  ~AM~

  Ardith fought a desperate battle with Edwige, amazed at the woman’s ability to use dislocation magics and witch fire in battle. When Draigh and Edwige had both fallen into the scrying pool and Edwige had leapt back out alone, Ardith had still believed she could take the woman alive. But her witch fire couldn’t find her. It was like trying to hit a puff of smoke. One moment Edwige stood ten feet away right in front of her and the next she was across the room behind Ardith.

  Even Sirius had only barely managed to grab the very edge of her robes between his teeth before she’d flashed away and the star pup had lost her.

  Ardith scried quickly, desperation forcing her to get more creative in her magic. She threw her hands into the air and jerked her fingers wide, sending a thick, barely opaque mist of slug magic in Edwige’s direction. If on
ly the merest fraction of Edwige’s skin or clothing was captured in the haze she would be pulled into the dense, slimy cloud of magic and it would slow her movements enough to allow Ardith to grab her.

  Edwige started to flash away again, but the sleeve of her robe was sucked into the mist and, for a breath in time, Ardith thought she had her. She scried capture magic and threw it toward the witch. But Edwige twisted quickly, sliding her arms from the robe, which was immediately sucked into the slug cloud and hung suspended in the air before Ardith. Ardith’s net settled around the gown. “Shit.”

  Edwige was already gone.

  Draigh still hadn’t emerged from the pool. Ardith panicked, even as she spun in a circle to find the rogue again. “Sirius. Save him.”

  Sirius leapt into the pool.

  With a triumphant cry, Edwige leapt on Ardith’s back and carried her to the ground. Ardith’s head hit the edge of the concrete pool and stars burst before her eyes.

  The witch straddled Ardith’s back, placing her hand between Ardith’s shoulder blades, and began to chant.

  Immediately pain blossomed in the spot and Ardith screamed. It felt as if something was wrenching her ribs apart and she couldn’t move her arms or legs. Her mind went muzzy under the agony of Edwige’s magics.

  Ardith tried to pull her magic forward but it only flared and then sputtered as cold fingers wrapped around her beating heart and squeezed it in an iron grip.

  Ardith threw back her head and screamed, agony searing through her. She screamed until she couldn’t scream any longer, until all she could do was sob out a broken sound, her limbs flailing helplessly.

  Something flew from the scrying pool. A roar sounded, and Edwige barely managed a shout before she was torn backward, off Ardith’s body. The rogue’s shriek trailed across the room and then dropped away, ending abruptly in the distance.

  A soft whine told her Sirius had arrived and she felt his familiar bulk as he lowered himself to the ground beside her. Then the healing heat as he sent his powers into the horrible wound on her back. She bit back a cry of pain as Sirius knit her back together, clasping the pup’s dense fur in one hand for support.

  Ardith passed out under Sirius’ diligent efforts, waking sometime later to the sound of shouting outside. She pushed herself to her feet, weak and wobbly, and looked around. “Where’s Draigh, pup?”

  Her familiar sent a picture of the hunter flying out the door with the witch wrapped in his arms. Though she knew it was Draigh, she hardly recognized him. The hunter had massive teeth, like some kind of wild animal, and looked nine feet tall, with sharp looking black claws on the thick fingers clasping the witch’s arms as they went over.

  Ardith figured she was seeing the form he’d worked so hard to avoid showing her when they’d made love.

  In the vision, Draigh turned to look back as he tumbled off the ledge, and she gasped at his eyes, glowing silver and wild with fear. Despite their strange color, his eyes looked more animal than human.

  Ardith stumbled to the door and looked down. The witch lay in a bloody pile of pieces and parts on the ground below, the web’s power sparking around her as if it had been ripped to shreds along with her body.

  Draigh was there too, standing in the midst of a platoon of human soldiers with massive guns trained on him from all directions. He stood still and defeated, enormous arms shackled behind him and chains around his feet. His head was bowed.

  Why didn’t he fight them? What was wrong with him? Ardith lifted her hands, hoping she had enough mojo left in her to fight the humans and rescue the hunter. But a large, black hand grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  She turned to look into Blackthorne’s dark brown gaze. “No, Ardith. It won’t help him if you get captured too.”

  “Why isn’t he fighting them? He’s much stronger than they are, especially in that…beast form.”

  “There’s mercury in the cuffs and chains.” Blackthorne cocked his head, fixing Ardith with a speculative look. “You care for him, don’t you?”

  She automatically shook her head. “That’s absurd. I feel like I owe him a debt, that’s all.” But as soon as she said the words, she knew they were a lie. She did care for the hunter. Too much. To distract herself from that dangerous thought she told Blackthorne, “I don’t understand what just happened here. It’s obvious from the sheer numbers and the equipment the humans have down there that they weren’t just passing by. They came here to capture someone specific. Do you think they came for Edwige?”

  Blackthorne shook his head. “No. It was a trap. Edwige knew we would come here. I’m afraid she set us up.”

  Ardith shook her head. “If that’s true it didn’t exactly work out for her as planned. Edwige’s dead. She’s in tiny little pieces down there.”

  “That is what she wanted you to believe. Look closely.”

  Ardith looked down at the torn body on the ground and frowned. At first she didn’t see it, but as the body started to change she realized what Blackthorne was telling her. The torn flesh was already turning gray and sloughing off the bones. Black blood ran in a disgusting pool from beneath the ravaged corpse.

  Ardith looked up at him, fear filling her breast. “It’s a zombie. Oh my god, Blackthorne, that nearly flawless specimen was a zombie?”

  Blackthorne nodded. “It appears that Edwige has perfected her zombie-making skills.”

  Sirius joined them on the ledge and Ardith automatically reached for him, grasping his thick fur as her head spun. The human soldiers loaded Draigh into a big white truck and looped thick chains through the handles of the closed doors once he was loaded. It was obvious the humans understood what kind of power they were dealing with. “More important, Blackthorne, where the hell is the real Edwige? And if her zombies are this strong, just how powerful is this bitch?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What the hell do you mean he’s going to be executed?”

  Lady Penelope’s sharp, black gaze followed Ardith as she paced. The woman was being surprisingly patient with Ardith’s anger, which had been volatile since she’d been called into the council chamber to discuss next steps.

  The Devil’s Glen incident had blasted through the human world. Reports of hundreds of men, women and children slaughtered by Edwige’s zombies had created an explosive environment that had people rioting in the streets and spurred the government to declare they would make an example of the magic wielding creatures they already had imprisoned.

  It had been five days since Ardith had watched Draigh get hauled away in that truck. They’d been the longest days of her life. On Blackthorne’s insistence, she’d tried going through official channels to get him released. But, though the human government was understanding of their dilemma with Edwige to a point, they had massive hysteria to deal with and they figured killing a few magic users was the quickest way to soothe the population.

  Ardith knew that wouldn’t be the end. In fact, now that the general population knew about witches and things that go bumpity bump in the night, it would be just the beginning of hell for all of the magical races.

  “What would you have me do, Ardith?” Lady Penelope’s soft tones were as surprising as they were terrifying. Generally the woman ruled with an iron fist and strident tones. She only moderated her tone when she was getting ready to strike—to throw her victim off.

  But Ardith was way past caring. “Blast our way into that prison and bust the hunter out.”

  Behind the Lady, Blackthorne’s dark face creased with disapproval but he stood silent sentinel over their leader.

  “Don’t be absurd, girl. That will only enrage the humans further.”

  “We can’t let them kill our people. It won’t end anything. It will just set a precedent for more and more killing.”

  “She has a point, my lady.”

  Lady Penelope blinked when Blackthorne agreed with Ardith, but she didn’t turn to him. Her terrifying black gaze stayed locked on Ardith. “Then we must give them a different target for their ex
ample.”

  Ardith stared back at the woman on the faux throne, searching the cold and flawless countenance for a clue to the trap. She didn’t see anything she could identify. Still, she chose caution. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Yes you are. It is the only way. We will do our part to convince the government that danger comes from only one front. That we are powerless compared to the rogue. And that we are just as terrified of the woman as they are. Your job will be to draw her in so we can trade her life for that of the prisoners. Do you think you can do this?”

  Ardith glanced at Blackthorne for help. He held her gaze but offered nothing. It was her decision to make.

  Could she? She really had no choice. It was the only thing that made sense. And if it didn’t work she would just blast her way into the prison, with or without the council’s blessing, and extract Draigh. “Yes. I can do it.”

  “Good.” Lady Penelope actually smiled. “Now, tell me what you need, girl.”

  ~AM~

  “Are you sure this will work?”

  Ardith glanced at Blackthorne. “I’m sure the Watcher can find Joris. What I’m not sure about is how to get the gnome to let us into his lair.” Her gaze slid up the thick column of gray smoke to the top, where it bulged outward, presumably encompassing the Watcher’s hidey hole. “I don’t think he invites just anybody in.”

  Blackthorne held a large copper coin out to her. She took the coin, frowning. “You have any idea how to use this?”

  “The Huntsman said we had only to hold it in the air and call for the Watcher with our minds.”

  She examined it. The coin was about two inches in diameter and the top surface was engraved with words she couldn’t decipher. They were ranged around a column, not unlike the column Draigh’s guide made before it adjusted to show him what he’d requested. Turning it over, she saw the Huntsman’s odd little face carved into the opposite surface. “What exactly is it?”

  “A guide coin. The authority lends them to non-hunters as temporary guides. They aren’t as powerful as true guide magic, but the copper enhances the magic embedded within and gives you fairly potent temporary guide power.”