When they didn’t stop coming, I pulled my phaser free. I still didn’t feel quite one-hundred-percent after my Donkey Kong battle, but at the same time, I didn’t feel nearly as bad as I had when I’d been playing. The thrum of magic had settled into a dull background tinnitus I could ignore if there was enough ambient sound to drown it out. The only problem was I felt it twining around me as I moved. It was so familiar I could fall into it if I let myself. Only I had no idea what its source was, and if there was one thing I’d learned, it’s don’t take magic from strangers.
I moved quickly, turning the corner. Stretching out in front of me was a funhouse slide complete with flashing lights, loopty-loops, and a vat of what looked like cotton candy at the end. It probably wasn’t cotton candy per se, but it certainly looked soft.
I looked around for traps. I didn’t see any, nor did I feel anything but the steady thrum of magic. If anything, it felt way safer than the video game I’d just played.
“Seems clear…” I muttered, taking a second look around, and as I did, one of those katana-armed ghouls phased through the wall beside me. I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t been looking around dejectedly. So, points for that.
I stumbled backward as the creature’s slash split the air where my face had been a moment before. I fired, putting three quick blasts into its chest. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as it came forward undeterred. Damn, where was the BFG when you needed it?
A sinking feeling filled my stomach as I took another precarious step backward. The ghoul lunged again, and I tried to sidestep by its slash. Instead, I wound up stepping over empty air as the tip of its blade scraped across the ceiling, throwing angry red sparks into the air. My arms went out, windmilling as I tried to regain my balance. It didn’t work, and I toppled ass over tea kettle onto the yellow slide.
The first thing I noticed was that there was absolutely no friction, and even though it’d seemed fun at first glance, it was decidedly not fun. Though that could have been because the snarling ghoul threw itself after me.
I threw my hands out as I rolled onto my back and used my legs to steady myself as I slid downward headfirst. My first phaser blast went wide but the second caught the ghoul in the face, snapping its head backward.
A moment later, I crashed into the vat of cotton candy at the bottom, and realized, much to my horror, it wasn’t cotton candy. No, it was a fucking spider’s web. Threads lashed around my body as millions of tiny red-legged spiders began to crawl over my flesh in an effort to cocoon me.
I screamed like a little girl because as much as I was a fan of Todd McFarlane’s awesome Spider-Man number one cover, I had no desire to reenact the scene. I bucked and twisted as I got to my feet, trying to throw the tiny arachnids off while screaming because how could I not scream? I mean, seriously?
The thrashing ghoul smashed into me a second later, tearing me free of the threads and knocking me flat on my ass. My head smashed into the web, bouncing me forward like I’d hit a trampoline, and as I came up, the ghoul kicked me in the stomach. My breath whooshed out of me as I staggered backward while spiders continued to crawl over me. They were everywhere. On my clothes, in my hair, under my shirt. It was horrible.
“Annie,” the voice rasped from the ghoul’s throat, and I could barely hear it over the thrum of the magic beating against my ear drums. “There’s still time for you to join us.”
“Pass!” I cried, shutting my eyes tightly and diving backward over the edge of the vat, even though the only thing I could see was darkness. My body left the web with spiders still running all over me, but their threads pulled me up short before I fell very far, leaving me dangling in the air like a fleshy piñata. The ghoul loomed over me, its katana arm swinging wildly through the air in front of it. I had half a second to hang there, and try to figure out what to do when the last of the webs broke.
I plummeted into abject darkness.
The ghoul leapt over the edge after me.
I ignored the arachnids crawling over my body and spun around. I aimed my phaser at the creature one last time, and this time, I flicked it onto a setting I’d only used once before. Disintegrate.
I’d only get one shot before I was out of juice, but if it meant taking out the ghoul, I was all for it. Once I dealt with the ghoul rocketing toward me like a fetid, decayed meteor with a sword, I could come up with a better plan.
As my magic filled the phaser, and adrenaline pumped in my veins, I aimed at its chest.
“Say hello to my little friend,” I said, pulling the trigger. The blast hit the creature center mass, and as it started to dissolve into a flare of blue-green light, I hit something extraordinarily solid and everything went black.
20
I woke up flat on my back in a dank, dark non-pixilated dungeon cell. I still had all my clothes on, so I had that going for me, which was nice. My head pounded like a bass drum, and my mouth was drier than the Sahara. I smacked my lips together, trying to work up some moisture as I slowly dragged my aching body into a sitting position and checked for residual spiders. Thankfully, there were none.
My vision swam, blurring around the edges as I tried to focus on the light just past the thick iron bars filling the front of my tiny cell. They were coated in a sheen of rust, probably due to the dank atmosphere more than age. Still, I could see sparks of color leaping into the air beyond them.
Slowly, the leaping light and darkness congealed into sight, revealing figurines eerily similar to the one I’d seen inside Loraline’s body, only much bigger. They were arranged around a nine-pointed star spray painted onto the ground. Various other knickknacks, bits of smoking incense, and herbs both fresh and dried were scattered around them in a decidedly non-random way.
A shudder ran through me as a realization hit me like a brick to the face. I was in the ritual chamber. Worse, I’d been captured by whoever was performing said ritual. I jumped to my feet and immediately swayed as vertigo hit me. My head hurt so bad I could barely see past the throbbing.
As I leaned against the cool stone wall of my cell in an effort to calm the agony raking across my brain, my hand reached up to feel the back of my head. There was a huge knot, and as I pulled it away, my fingers were stained dark crimson. Not good.
I took a deep breath, trying my best not to freak out. I needed a plan and fast. If the ritual was underway, maybe there was still a way to stop it. Even if there wasn’t, I had to find a way out of here because I was willing to bet whoever had locked me up hadn’t done it so we could play reindeer games afterward.
While I wasn’t sure where I was, per se, I was obviously in a lockup next to the ritual site in some sort of dungeon. I just had no idea where that was. Still, bridges and crossing, right? First thing was first. I needed out of this cell.
Thankfully, I didn’t see anyone else around and with all the magic in the air, I could draw some of it in and use my own power to cut my way out. My hand went to the loop on my belt, but I found much to my dismay, my lightsaber and phaser were both gone. Frak! Worse yet, my charm bracelet was gone.
A chill went through me. One reason I used toys was because no one ever took them away from me, but whoever had captured me knew what I was and what those objects would mean. My heart thudded in my chest as I went into a frantic search of my body but came up empty. They’d taken all my stuff. The bastards.
I resisted the urge to cry as I slumped against the wall. I wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like I’d be able to blast my way out without some kind of object. I couldn’t conjure fire or anything. I was trapped in here, and from the looks of things, the bastards trying to eliminate a good portion of the werewolves’ most powerful family lines were well on their way, no doubt while laughing maniacally and stroking a cat.
Still, from the look of things, they hadn’t gotten ahold of Justin quite yet. At least, I was pretty sure they hadn’t gotten to him because while eight of the glowing statues popped and spit gouts of colored fire into the air, the last statue in
the nine-pointed star was conspicuously inert. That didn’t mean he was alive per se, but any port in a storm right?
If Justin was alive, he could come save me…
I dashed that thought from my mind. I wasn’t Pauline, Peach, or Daisy. I was Annie fraking Vance and I’d save myself. I didn’t need no stinking Mario to come find me in a castle. Besides, I was always partial to Luigi.
First thing first. I needed to figure out a way out of this cell. There had to be something nearby I could use. I just needed to find it.
I shut my eyes, reaching out with my power for something, anything to help me. The magic in the room hit me all at once. It was so powerful, a shuddering gasp exploded from my lips. I’d never felt anything like it.
As the metaphorical waves of the ritual slapped against me, I realized there had to be more than animators at work because there was a hint of death magic in the air. While the overall smell of the spell was like prickly pears and vanilla ice cream, there was the faintest touch of mold.
Necromancers.
Worse, now that I’d keyed into it, I could smell other trace bits of magic. Orange, lilac, oak. It was like wine-tasting but with magic. Granted, I’d never been good at wine tasting, but when it came to scenting magic, I was an all-star celebrity chef.
Seriously, during one of our rare meetups with other kinds of mages, my brother and I had been blindfolded while other casters had used magic and then beaten if we didn’t guess what kind of mage they were. Let’s just say my brother had been beaten far more often than I was.
All those scents didn’t bode well. This ritual was clearly using a whole team of mages from all different types and cultures. But why would they all work together to overthrow the wolves? After all, if they failed, it would be like painting a big old target on their backs and it wasn’t like there was a ton of camaraderie between the different kinds of mages. No, in general, mages were more like well-wishers, in that they didn’t wish you ill. So why would so many other clans help the animators? There had to be a reason, and I was worried that reason was startlingly simple. Power.
Still, werewolves had historically only really cared about killing off animators since we were the only kind who could kill them at a thousand yards with a sniper rifle. The rest of the mages were left pretty much alone. I mean, okay, no one liked necromancers, but since you had to be practically on your deathbed to use death magic and using said magic killed you anyway, there weren’t exactly a lot of them.
I pushed the questions away. I could find out later. Besides, the reasons wouldn’t help me now. No, right now I needed to focus on getting out of here. Nothing else mattered. I shut my eyes as tight as I could and let the magic of the ritual wash over me. I began to shimmy side to side, rocking on the cold stone floor as I swayed with the power. As soon as my body attuned to the shifting currents of the ritual swirling around me in the next room, I found I could breathe a little easier.
Reaching out with my own power, I realized I could feel the entirety of the space. There were a few more cells on either side of mine, the ritual room, and another couple rooms I couldn’t feel because the doors were closed. As I reached out toward the closed doors, my magic rebounded back at me like I’d touched a hot frying pan. Whatever was on those doors was definitely blocking me. Still, it was good to know I was alone down here. That meant there were no guards to worry about.
Maybe they hadn’t expected me to wake up? Maybe they were all fighting Justin? Hell, maybe they went out for tacos because what the fuck could I do locked in a cell?
That’s where they were wrong. I could do something.
I stood slowly, careful to keep my eyes shut as I let the metaphysical veil spread across the inside of my cell. I could sense something powerful in the far corner. My eyes snapped open as I slowly made my way around the room, careful to keep one hand on the wall for balance because I was still reeling from the overwhelming nature of the ritual.
Once I reached the far corner of my dinky little cell, the sense of a powerful object was even stronger. It came from beneath my feet. I dropped at once and stared at the huge stones lining the floor. It was too dark to make out a trapdoor or anything, so I ran my hands over the ground, feeling for the object. I could feel it pulsing just beneath the cell’s stone floor.
Well, that was just great. It was probably something locked up on the floor below. Still, as my fingers ran back and forth over the stones, I realized one of them wasn’t quite as stuck as it should be.
My fingers dug at the corner of the football-sized stone. It moved. OMIGOD, it moved. I gripped it with all my strength, ignoring how the stones surrounding it tore at my flesh and fingernails. I pulled. It started to rock back and forth in the space like it’d been removed before. Exhilaration filled me. Someone had hidden something inside the cell.
I’m not sure how long it took me to pry it free, but when I was done the tips of my fingers were battered and bleeding. I ignored the pain as a smirk spread across my face. Then I reached in and pulled out my prize.
A sonic screwdriver. The Doctor was in, baby.
Now, to be fair, I’d never been a huge Doctor Who fan. I know, I know. Just take away my nerd card now. There’d been a brief time during David Tennant’s stint as the tenth doctor where I’d watched it, but the next guy just didn’t ring my bells if you know what I mean. It’s not his fault, really. It was me, I promise.
Either way, as I pulled the cream-handled cylinder with silver ends and a black pommel out from its hiding place between the stones, a surge of elation exploded through me. The sonic screwdriver was basically the Swiss army knife of the supernatural world. I’d never thought to carry one before because as far as weaponry went, it was no lightsaber, that’s for sure. But my brother had used one. All the damned time!
He didn’t fancy this one, which was the one David Tennant had used because he preferred the eighth doctor’s for some reason that was way too technical for me to understand.
Part of me wondered why such a treasure had been buried here, but I was willing to bet there was a very good reason. Like, I don’t know, the person before me had snuck it in and used it when the guards weren’t paying attention. That it had been left behind struck me as sort of hollow, because I was willing to bet the owner was dead.
I pushed the thought away. I didn’t have time to think about that. I got to my feet and sucked in a breath as I cradled the thing in my hand. It had heft like my lightsaber had but was nowhere near as cool. Again, sorry.
Very carefully, I made my way to the cell door, shoved the point toward the lock, and concentrated. With a little push of magic, the sonic screwdriver came to life in my hands. The mechanism inside the cell door groaned and shrieked before clicking open under the force of Whovian technology.
I pushed lightly on the cell door with my other hand, and it screeched open a few inches. I probably could have pushed it open more, but the sound had been so loud in the otherwise mostly silent room I stopped for sudden fear of being heard. When no one came to seal me in carbonite, I slipped out of the cell and made my way forward.
The figurines stood in the center of the room, still glowing and popping, and as I approached, I realized I had no idea how to stop the ritual now that I was out. I mean, okay, a siphon mage could maybe suck the magic out of the ritual, but I was pretty sure there was too much going on for that to work. Besides, they tended to need things like notice, and I didn’t exactly have four to six weeks to wait for an initial consultation.
No, I needed to do something now.
I made my way toward the statue that looked like the one I’d seen inside Loraline’s corpse. This one, like the rest in the room, stood about chest high and looked vaguely Mesopotamian. I wasn’t sure why that was.
I wasn’t sure how to stop it exactly, but I had at least one idea even if it felt a little silly. I pointed my sonic screwdriver at it because the damned things seemed to be able to do pretty much anything.
“Deactivate the statue,” I whisp
ered, focusing my will while putting the silver tip of the sonic screwdriver against the figure. “If you do, I’ll totally binge watch all of Doctor Who. Deal?”
The tool sprang to life in my hand as I shoved what little magic I had left into the device. I instantly knew three things. One, this would work given enough time. Two, I didn’t have enough power or time to make it work. Three, I really didn’t like the feel of a gun pressed against the back of my head.
“Drop the screwdriver, Annie, and no one gets hurt,” my brother said.
21
“Gordon?” I asked, hardly able to believe it. I mean, how could it be him? Sure it sounded like him, but he was dead. I’d seen him die. This had to be a trick. That said, it had worked because I was totally thrown off.
“I’ll not repeat myself,” Gordon replied, and the gun pressed harder into the back of my neck. “Annie.”
I dropped the sonic screwdriver, and as it clattered lifelessly to the stone, a bazillion thoughts screamed in my brain. “How are you alive? I saw the wolves…” I started to turn but was stopped by the gun.
“Don’t move an inch.” His voice was hard and angry. A loud sigh exploded through him. “Why couldn’t you just make things easy?”
“Sorry,” I replied, shaking my head and swallowing the lump in my throat. There were too many emotions for me to process, and I didn’t know whether I should be sad or happy. Pissed or conciliatory. All of it was making me sort of numb. Which was good because the most powerful thing I felt was guilt. My brother had been alive this whole time and I hadn’t tried to find him.
There was a rustling behind me, and the pressure against my neck evaporated. “Put your hands on your head and stand up slowly. Very slowly.” The feel of his gaze boring into my shoulder blades was nearly overwhelming. “You may be my sister, but this is bigger than us. Than any of us.”
The calm in his voice nearly struck me dumb. I wasn’t sure what had happened to my brother over the last ten years, but it hadn’t been good. For one thing, he’d always been the kind compassionate one. He couldn’t hurt a butterfly, let alone slaughter a bazillion werewolves. So how could he talk about performing a ritual like this so calmly? Something had happened, and worse, he’d thought about how to kill them all, weighed the pros and cons, and that was always way scarier than insanity.
Throne to the Wolves: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Spell Slinger Chronicles Book 1) Page 13