by Ramy Vance
The most frightening thing about her was how she wore the rings. The glass parts were facing inward, which meant that all she needed to do was clap her hands together and she’d shatter all the rings at once. Not that she was poised to do that now, thank the GoneGods. She had one arm around Nate and the other in her jacket like she was holding—
They were standing next to the dried-up stone fountain, and now I noticed for the first time that something was different about the fountain than the last time I’d been here: it was decorated with vines and orchids and lilies and several other plants, and its stone, bench-like edge had been cleared as if as a table or … a botanical tabernacle. The perfect surface to perform a ritual on—and I knew exactly what kind of ritual she had in mind.
We advanced a few steps in the queue. As I drew nearer, one detail became clearer—she was holding a gun on Nate. Looking behind me at Sal, I suddenly realized why he was so distraught. He knew Detective Wilcox was threatening his friend. As an apu, he was bound to protect his friends in a way that went beyond fraternal loyalty. He was created to protect those in his charge. That was his purpose for being … and right now he was helpless to protect his friend.
The rings, the trapped jinn, Dr. Dewey’s murder, threatening Nate—it was all starting to make sense. But there were still some missing pieces. Missing pieces I didn’t have time to contemplate now.
Because now I needed to stop Wilcox from going through with whatever plan she had in mind.
I left the queue and walked toward the fountain, swaying like I was just another drunk reveler, until I was standing right next to Wilcox. Then, using a handy wrist move I’d learned from an aikido master in Japan, I forced her to release the gun and pulled her hand out of her jacket, while simultaneously lacing my fingers with hers. She tried to punch me with her free hand, no longer holding Nate. I rolled into the punch so as to weaken the impact enough that none of the rings would shatter against the hard surface of my mask.
No jinn appeared. My move had worked. I breathed a sigh of relief, then kicked her in the shins and laced my other hand with hers. Now we were hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand.
She tried to pull away and I just went with it. I might not be able to match her strength—after all, she had three inches on me—but that didn’t mean I couldn’t inconvenience her. And as long as my fingers were laced with hers, she couldn’t break the glass and release the jinn.
“What are you doing?” she yelled.
People were starting to gather around us, evidently getting into position to watch a catfight. Well, a cherub-versus-gypsy fight. That was fine. I didn’t mind an audience.
“Nate,” I said. “Run.” The way I figured it, as long as Nate was safe, Sal would be able to help. As it was, Sal was walking toward us, trying to determine if Nate was, indeed, far enough away for him to get involved.
But Nate didn’t move.
“Come on—run! Sal and I can take care of her.”
Wilcox and I turned in a tight circle as she tried to pull free, so Nate was now behind me. Therefore, I could only imagine that his face transformed from fear to malice the second before I heard him say, “Why would I want to do that?”
Then I felt a heavy hand grab my shoulder and pull.
GONEGODSDAMN IT! Nate was actually trying to help Wilcox. I’d read this situation oh, so wrong.
“What the hell are you doing?” I cried out.
He leaned in and whispered, “What do you think? We’re trying to get them back.”
“Them?”
“The gods … we disappointed them when we turned our backs on the old ways.” I could feel his hot breath on me. “And now we have the ability to do it. Finally.”
“How?” I asked, as the three of us swayed in a weird dance. I wasn’t about to let go of Wilcox’s hands, and moving so the rings stayed intact while shrugging off Nate as he tried to pull me off her was no easy feat. It meant going with the flow, with both of them. Trouble was, they had opposite flows, and the only thing that prevented them from breaking free was that they had yet to coordinate their efforts.
“Idiot,” Wilcox hissed. “The apu is bound to protect Nate. And by threatening him, I am forcing the apu to do as I demand.”
Oops. That should have been obvious. “And what’s that?”
Kind of wished I hadn’t asked, because her eyes widened with anticipation and excitement. And not in an I just won the lottery kind of way. It was more like after a lifetime of being a vegetarian, I’d just had my first steak and now that I knew the taste of flesh, I’d never go back. My similes needed work, I know, but I was under a pinch of duress at the time.
“The gods,” Wilcox practically moaned, “they left because we turned our backs on them. We no longer honored them the way they wanted. We no longer paid them tribute. I am here to usher back the old ways.”
“And by ‘old ways,’ which ones are you talking about?”
“Blood tributes,” Wilcox said.
“You mean human sacrifice?”
“Is there any other kind?” Nate asked as he pulled.
We continued our dance, and all the while I saw the confusion on Sal’s face. He couldn’t hear our conversation or assess the level of threat against Nate. All he could do was helplessly watch as he waited for some clear indication of what to do.
“So it was Nate at the library?” I said. “You didn’t release the jinni from the ring—you don’t have the power. But the guard dog is a protective creature, and it released itself because Nate was threatened.”
“That’s what’s amazing about the apu’s power. He uses what is around him to protect his charges. In the library, that meant breaking the ring. At the vigil, when you so conveniently threatened Nate, Sal’s protection took the form of a hex that literally turned these otherwise reasonable human beings into a roving gang of hate.”
Mousey Girl’s story suddenly made sense. A gargoyle’s nature is to protect their charge. When Detective Wilcox threatened Nate in front of him, not only was his commitment to Mousey Girl’s safety being tested, but he was also falling under the Incan Other’s spell; the two opposite forces were being pitted against each other, and Sal’s spell won. Georgie attacked those hockey players because, at that moment, it was literally the only thing Sal could do to stop Wilcox from hurting Nate.
“The apu’s spell contains so much beauty in its simplicity,” Wilcox said. “And since I am a constant threat to Nate, there is only one solution for the apu.”
“Do your bidding?”
“Do my bidding,” she repeated, her eyes widening again in a maniacal expression. “And my bidding is to sacrifice all these silly kids just like they did when the sun would turn black in displeasure and demand human blood as a tribute. The apu was hesitant but not as hesitant as you would expect. After all, he is a creature who was once given human tributes himself.”
“But you’re not really threatening Nate, so why would he—”
At this, Wilcox made a mock pouting expression. “You mean, would I kill my little cousin? Without hesitation.”
“Thanks, dear cuz,” Nate said with venom in his own voice.
“So the solution is simple,” I said. “Remove you, remove the threat.”
That’s when the worst thing happened.
From behind me I felt a powerful force rip Nate off of me. I turned just in time to see Deirdre standing over Nate, her broadsword raised over her head.
“You dare harm milady?!” she cried out.
“No, Deirdre—don’t!”
But my words were drowned out by the sound of a glass-shattering noise.
Wilcox’s rings were all broken, releasing an army of angry, overprotective jinn onto the party.
CHANGELINGS, HYENAS, WARRIORS AND ANGELS
What happened next was nothing short of awe-inspiring, chaotic and terrifying. Thirty-one jinn burst out of Wilcox’s hands and belt. Thirty-one creatures—and not all of them were guard dogs like those from the library. There were all types:
a monkey-looking creature the size of a wendigo, a monster with a human head on a body the shape of a horse-sized chicken, a ten-foot-long ferret with a scorpion’s tail. Hell, I even saw a couple salmon bigger than park benches swimming through the air.
Thirty-one creatures of all shapes and sizes. Thirty-one creatures, each possessing immense power. Thirty-one creatures, all hell-bent on doing one thing.
Protecting Nate.
I EXPECTED the jinn to just go on an all-out rampage, but they didn’t. Instead, they hovered (well, those that could hover; others leered, crouched or just stood vigilantly, dozens of tiny eyes staring in every which direction) around Nate and Wilcox, employing the dead fountain as an ad hoc base of operations.
Legend said that whoever wore the broken crystal controlled the jinn. But Wilcox didn’t have the power to actually release the jinn. That was Sal. His protective magic would have forced them out in order to protect Nate. Nevertheless, now that they were released, they were under Wilcox’s control … and as long as her commands didn’t threaten Nate, they would do her bidding.
Wilcox looked around, turned to me and said, “This wasn’t how I imagined this going down.”
I lifted an eyebrow beneath my cherub mask and scanned the crowd behind me. All eyes were on us—not surprising, given that thirty-one creatures had suddenly appeared out of thin air, and we were apparently the source. Deirdre was behind me in her ninja costume, her broadsword at the ready, but she was smart enough to bide her time and wait for an opening. The only eyes that didn’t seem to be on us were those of Egya and Mergen, who were nowhere in sight. I could only hope they were up to something useful.
“I was going for more gravitas,” Wilcox explained. “Ah well, too late now.” Fishing around in her jacket, she pulled out the obsidian blade and pointed it at the crowd. Speaking to her guard creatures, she said, “Make sure nobody escapes.”
Jinn went every which way, and the screams and panic began in earnest. I heard the loudest shouts of alarm toward the edges of the courtyard, which surprised me. I looked up and saw that someone had slid thick mesh fences across all the exits leading into the surrounding building. No escaping the mess hall, apparently. I don’t even know how they’d managed to install sliding cage doors like that without anyone noticing. These guys were good.
Then Wilcox pointed at the cleared-off altar on the fountain and said, “Bring me the virgin.”
A nasnas (a creature that looked like a man cut in half from navel to forehead) hopped through the crowd and picked up a large shirtless boy dressed like a Roman legioneer. “Hey,” the boy cried out. “I’m not a virgin! I’ve done it. Lots.”
Oh, brother. If it wasn’t so horrible, it would have been funny. But as it stood, seeing the terror in that kid’s eyes, there was nothing ha-ha about this moment.
I turned to Nate. “Come on, Nate—this won’t bring the gods back. This can’t.”
“You … you don’t know that.”
“Indeed,” Wilcox said with a laugh. “No one does. We’ll just have to try and then wait and see.”
The nasnas placed the large “virgin” on the tabernacle, and Wilcox commanded it to tie him up, handing the nasnas an ancient rope. As he was being strapped to the stone, Wilcox teased her sacrifice-to-be with the obsidian blade.
Turning to the crowd, she cried out, “I know what many of you are thinking. How do I know something that so many scholars, philosophers, scientists, politicians and theologians don’t know? The answer is simple—they know, too. They just don’t have the balls to say it: the gods left because we disappointed them.”
Then she began chanting. One hand on the blade, which she slowly raised above her head. The other on her gun.
“Nate,” I heard a voice say behind me. “Are you doing this?” Justin approached me from behind, perfectly intact, not a single jinni attacking him. And then it hit me that none of Nate’s circle of friends would be harmed, just as had been the case with the hex. The apu’s spell wouldn’t allow it. Five fewer people to worry about.
Justin walked past me, panting heavily. He had obviously been running. “Tell me she’s not telling the truth, Nate. Tell me you have nothing to do with this.”
Nate didn’t move as Wilcox continued her chant. Justin took another step forward, but two jinn—one resembling Swamp Thing, the other an actual dinosaur—positioned themselves so that he couldn’t proceed. They didn’t attack him, mind you, but they didn’t let him through, either.
“Come on,” he said, “we can’t let her do this. This isn’t right. This isn’t right!”
But Nate’s expression stayed the same. He didn’t move. Nothing changed.
Justin wiped away a tear from frustration. “Why is this happening?”
“Because of me,” Sal said, his hollow voice somehow piercing the screams of all those being corraled by the jinn like cattle.
Justin gave him a curious look. “You?”
Sal nodded. “My spell. These creatures emerged because Nate was threatened. And she possesses the rings.” He pointed at Wilcox, who laughed in agreement. “As long as she does, they will obey her.”
“Then … turn it off,” Justin said.
“I … I can’t. I am an apu. My magic demands that I protect those I love.”
“And do you not love them?” Justin said, gesturing to the roiling crowd all around them.
Sal looked around and shook his head. “I tried, but none of them have accepted me. Not like you and Nate. They give me strange looks and speak to me with trembling voices. They’re afraid of me, and because of that fear, they keep their distance.” Sal’s eyes turned from their usual crisp sky-blue to a stormy gray.
“And this will make that better?” Justin shook his head. “This isn’t right, Sal. If you can’t love them, then at least feel empathy for them. Protect them, too.”
I could see what Justin was doing—he was trying to get the apu to extend his protection spell. For a moment I thought it just might work, but then Sal shook his head, a cloudy tear falling from his face. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Fine,” Justin said. Showing exactly why he was the star of the football team, he faked past the two jinn and ran up to Nate. “If you can’t protect everyone, maybe you can find it in your heart to choose.”
Then Justin did something I will admire for the rest of my life. Knowing full well what would happen, he walked right up to Nate and punched him.
Right in the nose.
“Man, what I wouldn’t give to be the one to punch that kid in the nose.”
Deirdre glanced over at me, arching one eyebrow.
“What?” I said. “It’s the Truth.”
Where was Mergen when I needed him?
NATE FELL down as if in slow motion, and before his butt could hit the ground with a thump, I heard a sound that could only be described as rolling thunder … rolling closer and closer to us.
“Shit!” I yelled out. “Justin!”
In one fluid motion, I slid between the dinosaur jinni’s legs and tackled Justin, pushing him behind me just as a dozen jinn turned on him, seeking to protect Nate. “Get behind me!” I pulled out my dirk and waited.
The jinn charged forward.
They would have to get through me first if they wanted Justin.
There were far too many for one ex-vampire, of course, but I figured I could cut down a few of them before they’d get by. At that moment, Deirdre appeared at my side and I realized that we might be able to dispatch more than a few before they eventually overcame us.
As far as last stands, this wasn’t the worst way to go.
I readied myself, gritting my teeth behind my mask, just as my father might have once done.
But the jinn didn’t attack.
Instead, they hovered about in confusion, staring at both Justin and Nate.
The jinn had been paralyzed by indecision.
Seems the apu wouldn’t let them hurt anyone in his charge … and this was something he took very seriou
sly. Even knowing his friend had used him and recognizing the pain and suffering this had caused, he still could not let harm fall upon him. Say what you will about Sal—once he was your friend, he was your friend for life.
But at least the jinn weren’t attacking anyone. Thank the GoneGods for small miracles.
Justin, standing behind us, cried out, “Come on. You coward! Come on!” But he didn’t try to get at Nate again.
“Nate,” I called over my shoulder, still facing the confused jinn. “You know this isn’t right. All you have to do is say one word and this can all stop.”
Wilcox’s chanting got louder as the obsidian blade rose higher in her fist. She was going to kill that poor kid any second now, and I was stuck on the far side of the fountain, surrounded by monstrous jinn, powerless to stop her.
I might have been powerless … but the Truth wasn’t.
Without warning, a hail of arrows flew at Wilcox. I turned to see Mergen lumbering into view at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone so fat. His bow was out and he was shooting arrows with a velocity and accuracy that wasn’t only divine in nature—it was also badass.
Mergen must have been seven feet tall now, and just as wide, his Santa costume ripping at the seams. He looked like a Jolly Ol’ Nick version of the Incredible Hulk. I guess the Truth of everyone’s terror became an all-you-can-eat foie gras–style buffet for him, literally funneling nourishment into his being. He grew with every cry, every scream, and his size and speed made him the most formidable warrior on the field.
But as accurate and fast as his arrows were, the jinn were faster. They caught every arrow before any could hit Wilcox. Not that this deterred Mergen any. He just kept them coming.