by Becca Andre
“What did you find, my love?” An older woman stepped around the large tree to my right, nearly colliding with me. We gasped in unison.
“Oh, you startled me.” She pressed a hand to her chest, her wide eyes on me.
I stared, unable to help myself. I’d never seen eyes like hers. The irises were so pale, they appeared white.
The man stood, his movements slow and awkward, and turned to face us. I expected him to greet us until his filmed-over eyes met mine. I failed to bite back the scream that bubbled up. Undignified as hell, but to my knowledge, I’d never come face-to-face with a zombie.
I dropped the duffle bag and stumbled back. A tube of Knockout Powder rested against my palm though I didn’t remember pulling it from my sleeve. The zombie took an uncoordinated step toward me and then another. Through a section of missing jaw, his tongue worked the blood he’d licked from the grass.
“Are you out for a stroll, too?” the woman asked. “Lovely evening for it.”
I glanced over in time to catch her wide smile. I’d guess necromancer. And something about that spaced-out twinkle in her odd eyes told me she might not be the brains of the operation. Wonderful. I had all the luck.
“You want to call off your, um, man?” I asked.
She looked confused until I gestured at the man in question. “Oh, sorry.” She turned toward the advancing zombie. “Come here, Ethan, and leave the nice lady alone.”
Ethan didn’t listen.
“That’s odd,” the woman said. She scratched her head through her short graying-blonde hair, her expression puzzled.
“What’s that?” I suspected her definition of odd varied a bit from my own.
“He’s bound. He shouldn’t ignore me.”
“Are you saying you’ve lost control of your zombie?”
She pressed her thin lips together as she considered him. “Ethan, stop!”
He didn’t. Only ten yards away, his opaque eyes remained fixed on me. I took a step back, my shoulder brushing the woman’s, and mentally ran through my inventory of potions and powders. Nothing short of fire or decapitation would stop a zombie. Though what actually animated him stood beside me.
I turned and blew the Knockout Powder into the necromancer’s face. She collapsed at my feet without a sound.
Unlike her zombie. He continued to shuffle toward me. What the hell? He shouldn’t still be moving.
With a scream, I whirled away and slammed into the fence, smashing my nose. My eyes watered and my vision blurred. I laced my fingers through the cold chain-link, searching with my feet for the gap. It should be close. If I could put the fence between me and the zombie—
On the other side of the fence, a dark shape ran straight at me. I gasped and ducked as it vaulted eight-foot of chain-link with ease. With a huff of breath and no other sound, an enormous black dog landed beside me. The same dog that had come to my rescue the night the Alchemica burned. His head rose, and I met his eyes. His glowing green eyes.
A throaty groan and we both turned to find Ethan the zombie only feet away. A squeak escaped me, the chain-link rattling before I realized I’d pressed my back against it.
With a snarl, the dog sprang. He slammed into the zombie and the pair crashed to the ground, rolling on impact. Something flew off and landed in the grass at my feet. Ethan had lost a finger.
I worked my way down the fence, away from the pair. The dog caught an arm and with a twist of his head, ripped it off. I closed my eyes and tried not to lose the Big Mac I’d had for supper. It helped a little, but I couldn’t escape the sounds: the wet tearing, the snap of bone, the gurgling of a torn throat. Worse were the muffled snarls and the snapping of canine jaws. Oh please, don’t let him be eating the zombie.
When everything went silent, I drew a deep breath and regretted it. The stench of rot overwhelmed me, but when I looked, the sight proved worse than the smell. The dog stood a few feet away, black fur covered in—were those intestines? I dropped to my knees and lost the Big Mac. When I looked up, both the duffle bag and the dog were gone.
I took a shallow breath—just enough to allow me to speak. “James?”
“Be right there.” His voice came from the other side of the tree, followed by the sound of a zipper. “You okay?”
I drew another breath. I could do this. “I’m fine.” I wasn’t going to freak out. I rubbed a hand over my face and took a few minutes to get control of myself. My best friend was a dog. Cool. I liked dogs.
Even giant black ones with glowing green eyes.
I pushed to my feet, determined to take this in stride.
James stepped around the tree, tugging a sweatshirt in place over a clean pair of jeans. His feet were bare, but aside from the tousled hair, he didn’t look any different. Most importantly, he wasn’t covered in zombie gore.
He stopped beside the woman, eyes narrowing as he studied her. The way his lip curled made me suddenly uneasy. “Necro.” He spat the word.
“What gave it away?” I walked over to him.
He looked up, clearly surprised that I’d joined him. He probably expected a different reaction.
“I hit her with Knockout Powder,” I continued, needing to say something. “Talk about a nut job.”
“I hear it’s part of the job description.”
I smiled at his attempt at humor. “Hanging with the dead probably isn’t conducive to good mental health.”
He grunted, his eyes still on the unconscious woman.
“I wonder what she’s doing here,” I said.
“This is Cincinnati. A lot of necros live here. She probably took her pet for a walk.”
“Oh.”
We both fell silent. Now what? Should I say something or let him bring it up? Or would we both ignore the elephant—er, black dog—in the room?
“Shall we go?” I asked. “If a cop drives by, I don’t want to be standing here with an unconscious woman and Ethan bits.”
“Ethan?”
“Her buddy.” I hooked a thumb in the direction of the zombie remains. My skin crawled as I thought about what lay in the grass. “He can’t—”
“He’s done.” James shouldered the duffle bag. “You’d better drive.” He started for the car and I fell in beside him.
“Is something wrong?”
“Blood loss. I’ll need to sleep soon.”
“Your shoulder?”
“I’m fine.” His tone made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Oh. Good.” I had so many questions, but his silence was contagious. I dug out a piece of gum from my jacket pocket and popped it in my mouth. Spearmint washed away the unpleasant impression Ethan had left.
We reached the car, and I slid in behind the wheel, taking a moment to adjust the seat and mirrors. James slumped in the passenger seat, his head on the headrest and eyes closed. I decided not to bother him. He’d tell me when he was ready. Meanwhile, I could try to get my mind around it. James was a shapeshifter. It wasn’t a common ability. Could he heal himself when he changed? His shoulder didn’t seem to bother him, and there was no blood on his shirt.
My mind ran in circles, but fortunately my driving didn’t. I found the interstate without trouble and wondered if a subconscious part of my brain recognized my surroundings. After all, this had been my home. I wished it were more familiar.
“You look sad,” James said.
I glanced over and found him watching me. “I’m lamenting how little I learned from this expedition.”
“Like that it wasn’t an explosion in the lab that blew up the Alchemica?”
True. The labs were intact. “What if the Elements did it? The Flame Lord was there.”
“Why would the Flame Lord destroy the Alchemica?”
“I don’t know. Professional envy?” I gripped the wheel and glared at the road through the win
dshield. Why else would the Flame Lord have been there? A new thought occurred. “I could ask him.”
“You can’t be serious.”
Yes, someone who witnessed the destruction. Even if he didn’t do it, the Flame Lord could shed some light on what happened that night. If he wasn’t innocent…
“You are serious.” James interrupted my thoughts.
“I could do it. I know a few potions that’ll make any guy talk.” I’d need to pick up some ingredients. And it’d take a day to prepare.
“You going to slip it in his drink or what?”
James had a point. The delivery system might prove tricky. But first I’d have to get in to see the Flame Lord. “Don’t they hear petitions?”
“How do you know your potion would even work? You know how unpredictable they can be with the magical.”
“I could experiment.” I kept my eyes on the road. “On you, if you’d let me. Unless there’s something about your magic that’s different.”
“It’s a curse.” His low voice just reached me. “Centuries ago an ancestor made a deal.”
“With the devil?” I joked.
“The details have been lost, but I do know that he bartered away not only his own life, but those of his descendants.”
“Your brothers?”
“It doesn’t work like that. Only one of us has to pay the price.”
“The price?”
He fell silent, and I looked over to find him watching the dark landscape flashing past his window. Wow. Old Magic. Rare and wondrous, and not following any of the modern laws. Well, none of the New Magic laws. Magic, being a product of the mind, was molded by the user’s beliefs. When magic returned almost two decades ago, it found a modern world rooted in science, and those beliefs colored the way New Magic manifested.
Old Magic was different. It had always been around, hiding in the dark and forgotten places, pretending not to exist. Quietly passed down through the generations to a distant descendant…like James.
I made an effort to rein in my enthusiasm. Why did he call it a curse? That sounded like a clichéd B movie.
“Werewolf?”
“No.” He squinted in the glare of a passing car. “I’m a grim.”
I searched my memory. “If I knew what that was, I no longer do.”
“Shuck, devil dog, hellhound.”
“Hellhound? Your eyes aren’t red, they’re green.
He grunted and leaned back in his seat again.
“I’m kidding. Come on, a hellhound?”
He didn’t respond. Why didn’t he want to talk about this? It wasn’t like he was evil. He’d come to my rescue tonight, and it wasn’t the first time.
“The night the Alchemica burned. You ran those guys off.”
“Yeah.”
I waited, but he didn’t offer anything else. When I glanced over again, his eyes were closed. “James?”
A soft snore answered me.
Chapter
4
I had no trouble getting an audience with the Lord of Flames. All it took was a phone call. As leaders of the magical community, the Elements led in a manner similar to any organization in the modern world: they maintained central offices that required an appointment. When the magical had a problem, the Elemental Offices helped them find a solution. I didn’t qualify as magical, but I figured having a problem with the magical was close enough.
James dropped another bullet into a cardboard ammo box. “How’d you get in so soon?” We had the workshop to ourselves. He loaded bullets while I ground some dried datura flowers. The sweet aroma filled the room, masking the faint turpentine odor from an earlier experiment.
“I said I was being harassed by the PIA.” It wasn’t a lie. Agent Lawson had called, but I’d been visiting the Alchemica at the time. “I guess the Elements don’t care for their arbitrary rules or regulations either.” The Elements’ receptionist wanted to schedule my audience the same day, but I had potions to brew and powders to mix. I moved it back a couple of days.
James snorted. “And the rest of it?”
“I told the truth.”
“You said you were an alchemist?”
“No.” Setting aside my pestle, I picked up a small glass vial and poured a quarter-teaspoon of pale green powder into my palm. “I said I could use magic. Care for a demonstration?”
He eyed the powder and his nostrils flared. “It smells like grass.”
Impressive. I couldn’t smell anything except datura flowers. “That’s the knotweed.” I rolled my hand and the fine powder coated my palm. “It’s Perfect Assistant Dust. One whiff and you will obey any command given to you.”
His brows rose.
“I’m going to make you do the Chicken Dance.”
“Addie.”
“I’m teasing. I’ll save that for the Flame Lord.”
“You need to take this seriously. Even if this works on me, it doesn’t mean it will work on him.”
“Since I know even less about your magic than I do his, I’ll have to go on my instincts.”
“What’s to stop it from affecting you?” he asked, skirting my probe. He refused to go into detail about his magic.
“I’ve keyed it to me. It won’t affect me, and those hit by it will only obey commands from me.”
“You can do that?”
“Yep. Master alchemist, remember?” I raised my palm toward my mouth hoping he wouldn’t question me further. “Ready?”
“Wait.”
I lowered my hand. Crap. He wasn’t going to let me off that easily.
“How did you key it to you? Any physical ingredient, like a lock of hair would need to be ashed, but I don’t smell any charring.”
I’d been concerned about his quick mind, but apparently I should have worried about his nose. He watched me, his expression open and curious. I couldn’t lie to him.
“I used a drop of my blood.”
His expression closed down, moving toward a frown. “But that’s…blood alchemy.”
“I guess, but it’s my blood. I didn’t kill to get it. I didn’t torture anyone.”
“What? Why would you torture someone?”
“You know, to give the blood certain…attributes.” My words tumbled to a stop. I didn’t have a clue where that knowledge had come from.
“You can do that?”
“Personally? Of course not.” I smiled to reassure him, though my tight cheeks made it difficult. Using my own blood had been the natural, logical thing to do. Why did I feel guilty?
“No. I didn’t mean—”
“So I know a little blood alchemy. Master alchemist, remember?” I repeated. I brought my hand to my mouth again. “Ready?”
He gave me a stiff nod. “Hit me.”
“Thanks.” I realized I was thanking him for more than letting me experiment on him. “I won’t betray your trust.” I blew the powder in his face.
He coughed and stumbled back, his eyes went on full glow, his pupils shrinking down to pin-pricks as he stared at me.
“You okay?” I asked.
He blinked a couple of times and the glow faded away. “Yes. For a moment I…”
“Yes?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” He flashed me a smile that looked forced. “Your command?”
“Sit.”
He abruptly folded his legs and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor. He stared at me with wide eyes.
“A success?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
I grinned. “Do as you will.”
He slowly got to his feet. “How are you going to get the Flame Lord to inhale it?”
“I have a couple of approaches. If I brew the potion as a liquid, I could break in and spike all his glassware.”
“Sounds risky.”
“Can’t you command him not to lie?”
“Yes, but a truth serum leaves no doubt. It compels you to tell the truth. The potion I just hit you with lacks that compulsion. Care for a demonstration?”
His brow wrinkled. “Maybe?”
“Tell me, James, what’s a grim? Don’t lie.”
He blinked and then straightened. “Someone with hellhound blood in them.” He bit his lip as if to stop the words.
“Do you see how much control you still have? If I’d used a truth serum, you’d feel compelled to tell me everything.”
“I…”
“It’s okay. Tell me when you’re ready.”
He looked away. “It’s just…”
“James?”
He turned to face me, his brow wrinkling as he met my eyes.
“Do the Chicken Dance.”
“Addie!” He began to flap his arms.
The following evening found me sitting beside James beneath a large rhododendron bush. I squirmed, chilled and stiff from several hours spent watching the sprawling Victorian house that served as the Elements’ Cincinnati office. We’d chosen this shrub for the cover of its glossy leaves and the clear view of the kitchen door and adjacent parking area.
It turned out to be a busy place. Delivery trucks had come and gone. A news van from a local TV station had stopped to film the building’s exterior. And later, a school bus had loaded up a group of noisy children who must have been on a field trip. But now that darkness had fallen, things seemed to be winding down.
“Anyone else?” I whispered. Moments ago, we’d watched the kitchen staff leave.
James’s eyes glowed faintly as he studied the house. He claimed he could hear the people inside. I’d asked him why his eyes glowed when he listened, but he wouldn’t give me an answer.