Malevolenci

by Sunshine Somerville

  Esme felt like an idiot. “Hey.” She looked anywhere but at Owen.

  “I have half a mind to leave you here for the night to contemplate your life choices, young lady.”

  Esme rolled her eyes.

  Oliver chuckled and turned to Esme. “I’m glad I could be of assistance, my dear. When you’re in town next, don’t hesitate to call, even if you don’t need legal counsel.”

  “Thank you, Oliver. Really, whatever you did–”

  “It was nothing.” The elf winked. Then he bowed to the king and headed for the exit with a confident swagger in his step.

  Esme finally looked up at Owen. They held eye contact for an awkward moment. Over the past several months they’d avoided being alone together, and even here in a police station it was hard not to…

  No, she ordered herself. Don’t you dare think about kissing him.

  Pulling his gaze from hers, Owen remembered something and reached in his pants pocket. He held out her castorcas and dumped them into her extended palm. “Here, I’m sure you’re itching to get these back.”

  “Thanks.” Esme slipped the rings on her fingers, clasped the bracelets, and felt better immediately. She sighed and motioned toward the exit. “Shall we?”

  “Yeah.” Owen looked like he wanted to say more but just walked with her to the door in silence.

  They stepped out of the station into the warm autumn air, and Esme paused on the sidewalk to take a breath.

  “You okay?” Owen put his hands in his pockets and faced her with concern.

  Her nerves calming now, Esme gave him a small smile. “I’m fine. I finished off the malevolenci I was chasing, by the way. Did you and the team get the rest of them?”

  “Yeah. And a conjuri is covering our tracks in the park. We don’t think anyone noticed the fight. So, that’s one more invasion deterred without alerting the public.”

  “Good. I closed the three rifts that were open when we got here, and I haven’t sensed any new rifts opening since the one in Central Park. Unless the scouts have reported something, I think we’re done here.”

  A siren wailed somewhere up the dark street.

  Owen started up the sidewalk. “Our truck is this way. The others are waiting there. We’ll pick up our things at the hotel and head straight to the airport.”

  There was nothing left to say, so Esme walked beside Owen and tried to relax. The city had a weird vibe at night – active and loud despite the dark hours, as if the locals could bring back the day through sheer persistence. Esme strolled in silence beside her partner, weaved around pedestrians, and was glad for the time to think.

  We’ve gotten efficient in our city-saving. We swoop in, close rifts, fight malevolenci, encourage the local Order members, fly away to the next city, and repeat. Our team is awesome. Owen and I…

  She tried to keep things professional. “Where to next?”

  Owen smiled. “Home.”

  Her eyes widened. “Kansas City? I thought there were a few more rifts on the east coast to close.”

  “Only two, and they’re small. The cavali guarding them say not even spindlox have come through in weeks.”

  Esme made a face. “All these rifts have only had spindlox and chiroptorx. Nothing bigger in months. What the hell are the malevolenci waiting for?”

  “Who knows? Anyway, we’ll visit home for a while, then you can close the last two rifts before we start our European tour. There are bigger rifts there, but we need a break. Sleeping in my own bed and eating home-cooked meals sounds pretty good.”

  Esme found a smile on her face.

  Home. If you’d told twenty-something me that I’d be happy about Kansas City being home… But it is home in this world. I miss my dog. I miss Hakim, Lexi, Ada. I guess I even miss Roman a little.

  She looked at Owen and let down her guard a notch. “We’ve been in New York a week. Why didn’t you tell me sooner we’re going home next?”

  “I wanted to surprise you. You’ve been amazing, and surprising you with a trip home was the best thing I could think of to reward your hard work.” He smirked and looked over at her. “Well, maybe not the best thing I could think of…”

  Esme felt herself blush. She looked away but couldn’t repress a grin. “Owen…”

  “Yeah, yeah. We agreed to stick to business. Guess I was trying to coax you into another relapse.”

  He had a point. They’d agreed months ago to focus on their work and avoid the distractions of a relationship, but that resolve usually lasted only a few weeks at a time. In more than one city, Owen had knocked on her hotel door early in the morning after a malevolenci hunt. More than once, she’d shown up at his door. Even on the way to New York, Owen had happily initiated her into the Mile High Club.

  But we’ve managed to keep our pants on since being here, thought Esme as she fought for control. We have so many more important problems to worry about! Owen agreed we shouldn’t be together, all things considered. We have to stop. Being a couple would be too distracting. And in this life, distractions get you killed.

  After rounding a corner, the SWAT truck came within view, parked at the curb of a vacant street. The back door opened to reveal Max, Dax, and Benja. Tank must’ve been in the driver’s seat.

  “Quick,” Max called in a fake whisper. “Throw the jailbird in our get-away vehicle and let’s blow this joint!”

  Dax laughed.

  Benja smiled with more sympathy. “Glad you’re okay, alterni.”

  “Thanks.” Esme shuffled in embarrassment as they made room for her in the back.

  Owen snorted. “I still think I should’ve left you in a cell for the night. We could’ve snuck in a spoon so you could tunnel your way out. Or you could’ve use the spoon to fight your way free.”

  The cavali team laughed again.

  This was an old joke that Owen and Hakim refused to let go. Over a year ago when Esme first arrived at her summono, she’d grabbed a spoon to defend herself against the fake bentaforx planted to test alterni. It obviously hadn’t been the smartest choice for a weapon, and everyone thought it was hilarious.

  Esme turned her head to give Owen a half-hearted glare. “Thanks for the support, your royal lordship.”

  Owen leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Any time, alterni.”

  His breath in her hair caused Esme’s own breath to catch, and she froze until Owen moved around her to climb into the truck. Quickly, Esme regained her composure and climbed in after the king. Dax closed the door, and Esme sat beside Benja as Tank started their drive.

  Esme’s mind drifted as she stretched back in her soft leather seat. The Order-owned plane had a main cabin designed like a casual office space. A dozen recliner seats lined the walls, and top-lit tables stood between the chairs. Only the curved ceiling overhead separated them from the freezing wind flying by the plane, and the constant hum of the enormous engines filled the silence.

  Closing her eyes, Esme remembered the sound of beating wings and wind when the bentaforx captured her and Owen months ago. That terrifying flight had been loud. Cold. Then the demon had landed on a mountainside in the Rockies, and she’d fought for their lives with stronger magic than anyone had ever seen.

  Now that I’ve read the Chronicle of Alterni Endi, my magic doesn’t seem so amazing. We’ve all had magic this strong… What were the Master Conjuri thinking by not sharing these stories with the other alterni endi? That book has been a lifesaver! It describes every alterni endi’s hand spells. It has pictures of Kayne and Havel’s new symbols. I’ve added tons of useful spells to my repertoire, and they’ve saved us many times already.

  Esme opened her eyes and faced the seats farther back in the cabin. They’d taken the time to shower and change at the hotel, and everyone looked relaxed. Dressed in street clothes, Max and Dax held tablets on their laps and wore earbuds, probably watching movies. Benja was reading. Tank’s massive troll bulk was wedged into a reclining chair, snoring under a blanket. Three elves had joined them for the flight back t
o Kansas City, and they sat with their chairs turned to face each other as they worked on phones and tablets.

  Owen’s voice caught Esme’s attention as he talked to a cavali man sitting across from him. “Hakim says only four small rifts have opened in Missouri since we left. Anything weird happen with them?”

  “No,” answered the cavali. “As soon as our scouts reported the new rifts to Lexi, she sent teams right away. But they’re small, like Hakim told you. Only spindlox and chiroptorx have come through so far.”

  Owen frowned. “Same as every other rift we’ve encountered for months.”

  Yeah, thought Esme as she eavesdropped. What’s with that? The malevolenci went from scores of overwhelming attacks to this lull now. Did they exhaust themselves with the earlier effort? Do they know I killed that bentaforx and they’re afraid of me? No, that’s unlikely. The malevolenci know I’m the alterni endi, so they should be attacking with more ferocity than ever in hopes of killing me and leaving this world defenseless. Instead, we’ve got this lull. What are they doing?

  The cavali man told the king, “Lexi said the conjuri can hide the rifts from the public until you get back and find time to deal with them. But I’d sleep better if Esme closed the rifts ASAP.”

  “I’m sure she’d be happy to.” Owen’s green eyes swung over to Esme, and he gave her a quick smile.

  Esme returned the smile. Her memory flashed to their last time on this plane, during their flight to New York from Portland. Owen had asked her to join him in the private compartment at the back of the plane. As soon as the door closed behind them, they were all over each other. She remembered the warmth of Owen’s body as he’d held her against him… His hands sliding over her bare skin… His lips kissing the nape of her neck…

  Esme took a breath to cool off and shook away the memory. She looked at the open notebook on her lap and twirled her pencil, judging what she’d drawn so far. This notebook was filled with sketches she’d made over the past few months – it was a good way to unwind while traveling across the country. Currently, she looked down at a half-finished sketch of Owen. The bedhead hair was right. The symmetrical jaw was right. His eyes…

  She glanced at the real thing and saw Owen was again talking with the cavali. He leaned forward in his seat with elbows bent on his thighs and fingers crossed, listening as the man spoke.

  Esme sighed as she got back to drawing.

  I’ve completely fallen for our underwear model monarch, but I have to focus. If I go soft, I won’t be sharp enough to fight the malevolenci. I’m barely focusing as it is – I’d be a swooning idiot if I spend night and day with the man!

  She frowned as she drew Owen’s ears from memory.

  If I die, that means catastrophe. I’m the last version of myself, so Owen would be alone, without an alterni to close the rifts. After that, the malevolenci would overrun this world. Then the Order loses the war. The malevolenci use this world’s magic to break into every world. The only way for Owen to stop them… Yeah, I have to stay alive. I have to stay focused.

  “Damn, you really are a good artist.”

  Esme looked up as Max stepped around her, and he gave a thumbs-up to the drawing in her lap. The muscular, dark-haired man wore a T-shirt with a hockey team logo, and his jeans looked new. He swept freshly washed hair out of his eyes. Max wasn’t particularly attractive, but he had an air of confidence that came with his werewolf ancestry. He sat in the chair facing her and leaned back, scratching the dark stubble on his cheek. He appeared more comfortable than he had in a week.

  “Thanks.” Esme closed the notebook and tucked the pencil under the cover.

  “You wanted to talk about the werewolf home world, right? I figured we’ve got time, if now is good for you.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  This was a side investigation she’d started after reading the Chronicle of Alterni Endi. Now that she knew Roman had hidden parts of the Order’s history, she wanted to learn everything she could in case more was missing from her education. She’d finally been allowed to read the paranormal history texts in the Capiti library, but she liked talking to paranormals personally. It wasn’t like everything was written in the library – oral traditions were important to several paranormal races. She’d already learned surprises from elves, trolls, and fairies she’d interviewed.

  I want to learn everything I can about their home worlds and history. Maybe these paranormals know malevolenci secrets that even the Master Conjuri have missed. Our worlds somehow hear stories about each other. Maybe there’s a secret in the alt-worlds that will help me stop the malevolenci.

  Esme crossed her legs and started with her usual line of questioning. “The library’s werewolf histories say your kind first came to ancient Greece. Werewolves were among the first people brought here when the conjuri started performing the summono, correct?”

  Max nodded. “Nyctimus was the first werewolf summoned. After he learned about the Order, he realized this could be a safe haven for his people.”

  “They were persecuted in your home world, then?”

  “Yeah. It’s not like the werewolf home world was populated entirely by werewolves. We weren’t even in the majority. The stories from your world about werewolves were true – we were cursed a long time ago and lived in the shadows. People saw us as subhuman and hunted us like we were dangerous monsters.”

  Esme had heard similar stories from the vampires. “So Nyctimus made a deal for his people to live here in peace if they joined the Order?”

  Max nodded. “Fortunately for us, the Order was pretty open-minded. They welcomed our werewolf ancestors and accepted them into this society.” He grinned and flexed a bicep. “Helps that we’re natural warriors.”

  Esme grinned back, then had another thought. “It must’ve been a shock for your ancestors to be brought here, though. I remember my summono – it’s a jolting experience.”

  “Yeah, but I doubt they were too freaked out. Nyctimus was there to greet and reassure them right away.”

  “Nyctimus… Why do I know that name? I mean, I recognize it from something from my world.”

  Max, never one for studies, shrugged. “Stories bleed from world to world, so they say. If your world knew about werewolves at all, it makes sense they would’ve heard of Nyctimus – he was a pretty big deal, and even I remember that story. He was the son of Lycan, a god in our world who was punished with the werewolf curse. When Lycan and another god – I forget which one – fought, Nyctimus was killed as Lycan’s punishment. But then another god took pity on Lycan and brought Nyctimus back to life. He was an even stronger werewolf after that, and he was alpha to all Lycan’s werewolf offspring.”

  Esme nodded, remembering now her world’s version of this story.

  It’s so interesting to hear the true origins of stories I thought were myths. Werewolves, fairies, vampires – they’re all real. Werewolves really were cursed by the gods of their world. Fairies do have magic. Vampire blood was cursed too.

  “Any idea how the alt-worlds learn about each other? I mean, our stories get distorted, but how do they spread from world to world at all?”

  “No idea. I’ve heard a lot of legends about how these worlds were created, though. Some say this world – the only one holding all this magic – was the original world and copied itself to make the others. Whoever ruled here in the beginning decided to give different races of paranormals different worlds.”

  Esme nodded, having heard this as well. “You’re saying, maybe our first ancestors remembered this world, remembered the other races, and stories have carried on ever since in each of our alt-worlds?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe there are seers in the alt-worlds who’re able to look in on the others.” Max shrugged again. “A lot of these stories that spread are too accurate to be simply guesswork.”

  Esme nodded in thought.

  It’s possible my world had real, actual seers. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio…’ Where does legend end and
truth get useful?

  “Anyway,” Max went on, “Nyctimus was well known back in the home world. I mean, the werewolf community back on our world wasn’t that big, so everybody knew everybody. We are a pack race, after all.” He winked.

  “True. So… The texts say the conjuri brought more werewolves here than any other paranormal race. Is that because of the pack thing, or was it because persecution at home was so bad? The books in the library aren’t very clear on that.”

  Max smirked. “See? Your books aren’t good for everything.”

  Esme chuckled.

  Max scratched his dark stubble. “I think it was because persecution was so bad. That makes the most sense for why none of them wanted to go back to the home world. By the time the conjuri stopped performing mass summonos from our world, they’d brought over four hundred werewolves. All four hundred chose to stay here and join the Order. Some of them were even young pups. Their parents thought any life here had to be better than back home.”

  Esme nodded. “From what I’ve heard, you werewolves had it worst in your home world – even worse than the vampires in theirs, since they lived in more seclusion. The healers at the Capiti told me that scores of original vampires chose to go back after their summono. Tank told me a lot of trolls went back. Piper said most of the early fairies went back.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the sparklies’ home world sounds like paradise. Still, it’s not surprising Piper’s ancestors stayed here – her kind love to be the center of attention, and there were fewer fairies to compete with here.”

  Although they’ve bred like bunnies since then, thought Esme, for the millionth time confused by fairy reproduction. If so few fairies stayed in this world, how are they now the most abundant paranormal population? And if pureblood fairies are female…

  Esme shook this off and focused on her questions. “But werewolves were left on your home world. Once the malevolenci started attacking here, the conjuri stopped their mass summono harvests and only brought alterni who could help the king fight. What does the werewolf community think about that? Any anger for not rescuing the rest of your people?”