Obliteration

by Zoe Parker

  When the real cops show up, he convinces them of the same story—minus him being local. While he talks to them over to the side I cross my arms and stare at the men who almost got me maced again. The three of them have been steadily chugging water out of the tap ever since Phobe fed them the bullshit story about super strength. What if it were contaminated? They’d look like melted sherbet popsicles.

  That image makes me giggle again. Turning to see if Phobe’s done with his new friends, he is and waves for me to follow him, I say goodbye to the orange men—with my middle finger.

  In the hallway he looks at me and shakes his head.

  “Well, they asked me to do it,” I defend myself.

  “What if they had dared you to jump off a cliff?” he counters.

  “Okay mom, I get it. Can we order pizza now?” Laughing, he slips his arm around my shoulders and for the first time in a while, I let him keep it there.

  10

  We catch up to the roving Schoth three days later. They’ve set up a camp in one of the human towns, versus the tent ones we’ve found so far. This one actually has military Schoth. Mages, assassins, infantry. Finally, something worth doing. We scout out the perimeter and look for any weaknesses in their Magikal shield that we can exploit without alerting the entire place of our arrival.

  Near the house designated as the shit-house, we find one. Other than sleeping, this is when you’re the most vulnerable, yet this is their weakest spot. This should be one of the more heavily shielded spots, this and the sleeping quarters. But because they’re lazy, or foolish—maybe both, they didn’t. It’s like they're begging for me to come kill them while they poop.

  Slipping through the thin tear Phobe makes in the shield, we stand ready, waiting for any sounds of alarm. When none come, we hedge around the nearest house and then my eyes zero in on it. The shining, gorgeous, massive sledgehammer that’s leaning against the wall of a house. This might be fun after all. I recently saw a movie with this blonde god in it that has a hammer. I wonder if this one will shoot lightning too?

  ‘No, but I’m sure you’ll still make as much of a mess with it as if it did.’ He knows me better than I realized. Smiling at him, I creep towards it and scoop it up before anyone sees me.

  Phobe, at my side, points towards the barracks where several Schoth are lounging about, playing cards and drinking Fey ale. Looking past it, I spot the designated medic area, where about a dozen mages are sitting around a small fire, roasting what looks like a fully intact possum, on a spit in front of the house. I shake my head, I wonder if they realize that it needed to be skinned and gutted before cooking? Their meal isn’t going to settle well… well, it’s not going to settle at all. The whole being dead in a few minutes will cancel their dining plans. Something they should thank me for.

  There are sentries lazily patrolling the border of the shield but they keep stopping to chat with their buddies. All things considered, this won’t be as easy as some of the others but it's not impossible either.

  I look at Phobe and wait for the signal. When it comes to this, he’s better at it. Some habits die hard and I still sometimes run in, screaming like a banshee.

  With a nod he splits off from me to the left, towards the mages, and I go right towards the infantry. We each have our strengths, and Phobe is better with the Magiks users than I am. Light spells slow me down, and in some cases, fucking hurt. One of those mages that I saw had quite a bit of umph and I’m not going to chance a confrontation with him this early on. Not with so many players on the field.

  Time to take a few out. With a battle cry that would do an ogre justice, I leap around the corner of the house, hammer swinging. It catches the first Schoth in the side of the head with a crunch that’s similar to biting into a crispy bag of chips. He falls to the side, dead or dying. Before his companions can react, I’m already moving again. The hammer comes down with another crunch, splattering the head of the Schoth next to the first, in one hit. Twisting my entire body, I swing around and score with my next hit, getting two at once.

  One of them goes down hard—the hammer caught his face—but the other recovers and comes after me, sword raised. Throwing myself backwards I barely miss getting eviscerated. Now this is fun. Leaping onto their small table, I kick him in the face before he can cut my legs out from under me. Flipping backwards, I bring the hammer up as I move through the air, coming down on the head of the one trying to sneak up behind me.

  Schoth are predictable. If they get the chance to stab you in the back, they will. Every time.

  The burn of Light Magiks hits my back, slamming me face first into the ground. Spitting out dirt, I climb to my feet, careful to not give the Schoth my back, while keeping an eye on the mage that somehow escaped Phobe. My eyes zero in on the amulet around his neck, another one of those pain in the ass things. Throwing the hammer as I run, I manifest my daggers, and take down the distracted Schoth with a quick, almost elegant one-two combo on my way to the mage.

  Slipping in past the mage's last line of defense—a laughably tiny dagger he obviously doesn't know how to use, I grab for the amulet around his neck, only to be thrown back on my ass, minus it. Fucking Light Magiks. Rolling backwards, I stagger to my feet as fiends roar to life around me, heading towards the mage. If they can distract him enough, I can cut the damn amulet off, along with his head. The amulets might make the mages stronger Magikally, but it doesn’t make them immune to missing body parts.

  When the ground suddenly begins rumbling under my feet immediately followed by eerie moans of pain, I let out a string of curses. He’s calling fucking zombies. Using the corpses of their victims, and mine, to cause me even more trouble. Sprinting towards him while dodging the grasping hands of dead things, I aim my dagger at his exposed throat. The amulet chain sparks protectively as I connect, sending searing pain all the way up my arm. Fighting past the initial flare of agony, I hook under the chain and pull, hard. Thankful when it snaps and falls to the ground at his feet, I scoop it up, instantly regretting my decision.

  My hand is on fucking fire, and the pain is climbing. Fucking Light Magiks!

  ‘Throw it at me,’ Phobe says.

  Instinctively, I know where he is; spinning around as I straighten from my crouch, I toss it towards him and watch. In complete fascination I stare as Phobe’s Dark Magiks rush out to intercept it, in a clash of light versus dark it explodes. His feet slide backwards from the percussion but he remains standing. He wasn’t kidding about their Magiks, was he?

  The hair on my arms raises in alarm and even as I turn to intercept the Magiks I know are heading towards me, suddenly Phobe is there and takes the hit. This time without the explosion. With a smile tossed over his shoulder he runs at the mage and grabs him around the neck before slamming him on the ground. In a howling mass of shadows, the mage disappears and one more pain in the ass is gone.

  Bringing my attention back to the Schoth without Magiks, I’m happy to discover there are only a few left. One of which is trying his best to run away as fast as possible. Flipping the dagger in my hand over, I grip the handle and throw it at him with overkill force behind it. When it hits him, he’s flung forward several feet into a tree where he hangs there, stuck like a morbid puppet.

  When I turn to deal with the rest, they’re already dead on the ground with Phobe standing over them. The adrenaline starts to wear off and when I feel the breeze on my back, I notice that there might be a problem, I should've used the armor. Trying to look over my shoulder proves so difficult that somehow, I pass right the fuck out.

  The gentle rocking is the first thing I notice. The hard chest under my ear is another. Phobe is carrying me. I must’ve taken a harder hit from that mage than I realized for it to knock me out.

  Peeking through my lashes I look up at his face. There’s blood around his mouth and on his forehead. In all the time I’ve known him, I can’t say I’ve ever seen him so messy. It looks good on him. As I unabashedly stare at him, like I have many times before, that long
ass tongue of his slips out and licks the blood clean off his face.

  Obviously, he knows I’m awake.

  “Duh,” he teases.

  He opens the truck door and I climb inside, leaving the moment of fun behind.

  “Do you have any idea why I fainted?” I ask, buckling in and waiting for him to shut my door. Instead of answering it, he slams the door shut and climbs in the driver’s side. He doesn’t speak again until we’re moving.

  “The mages memories were tampered with, mostly removed. The exception being the one with the amulet. The collar he spoke about is the same one that Jameson warned us of when we found him and the dryad. Except they’ve now perfected it, specifically for you.” A collar that takes away part of my soul doesn’t strike me as fun.

  “That’s their game plan?”

  “As far as you’re concerned yes. I also know what the signal is.”

  “Well, don’t leave me hanging.” A smile touches his mouth.

  “They’re waiting on the Light king to cross over. The power struggle for the throne ended before it really began, he reasserted himself and has been the one pushing for the invasion of this realm.”

  “Does that mean what I think it does?”

  “Yes, he’s Light’s original host.” That makes perfect sense, Light possessed the most powerful Light Fey there is, giving him free rein to do as he pleases without making explanations to anyone.

  “How did he overcome someone so powerful, so quickly? I mean, didn’t you once say that the host can fight?”

  “I don’t think it was quickly. In fact, I think it took a long time. The king has been sequestered for nearly a century—that’s why his coming here is such a big deal.” Phobe flicks a glance at me and then looks back to the road. “He’s not coming alone either—they’re all coming with him.”

  “Who?” I’m hoping that he doesn’t mean what I think he means. Because if so, we’ve lost before we even began.

  “The entire Light Fey army has been called in from every realm, he’s bringing them here, with him.” Well, that’s shitty. A small army, we can do something with—but the entire army, we’ll all die without being able to fairly fight.

  “Can you do anything about it?” I ask, slightly hopeful. He mentioned he can’t eat too many Light Fey and have it knock him out, but how many is too many?

  “If Light is there, not as much as I’d like. I can kill hundreds, maybe even thousands of them by myself but he can stop me. And Iza,” he looks over at me again. “I’m the only one that can stop him, and when I attempt to do that, I won’t be able to fight with you.”

  “You know, you said something about knocking you out… did you mean unconscious?”

  “So to speak, yes.” His wording makes me suspicious. “Before you ask, I’ll be utterly useless and so will he—depending on how strong I am when I hit him. If one of us is stronger than the other when we finally do clash, the loser will be sent back to the beginning.” He’s still watching me and yet somehow staying straight on the road.

  If I were driving we’d be in the woods bent around a tree by now.

  “What exactly is the beginning?” I ask cautiously.

  “Where I went when he unraveled me from that physical body.” Oh, that place. I want to ask him if he lost, would he forget me again, but I don’t. I’ve just gotten used to this version of him, I don’t want a version three.

  The ringing of my phone makes him finally turn away to look at the road. Glancing at the caller ID I answer, “What, Jameson?”

  “Hello to you too,” he snarks. “Auryn sent me a message saying that Ruthie is stirring up trouble. She’s claiming to be the prophet of Light and somehow has Magiks.” Great, another headache.

  “Where is she?” Eventually, I’ll need to go find her and deal with her. I should’ve taken the life she wasted with deception, and not have to deal with her fuckery ever again. I manage to pretend like my guts don’t twist in turmoil when I think of killing her.

  “New York City. Oh, and we stumbled upon some human congressmen who aren’t acting very human. I’m pretty sure they’re glamoured Schoth.”

  “Have Adriem’s team make a visit to each one to confirm. If they are, they need to be taken out before they can do any damage.”

  “You can’t deal with it?” In some ways, he’s dramatically changed but in others—not so much.

  “No, unless you want to come and deal with the Schoth camps in my place?”

  He clears his throat and mumbles something about his bad hand and I laugh. “You’re missing a finger, not an arm you wussy. Just send Adriem—and Jameson, how do I make that collar useless?”

  “Iza, I’m not sure anything can. AII I know is that the trick to getting the one off that I made was dying. I’m sure they’ve added some of their own stuff to the spell too.” Nothing he’s saying is in any way reassuring. “The entire point of it is to suppress Feyrie nature. In a sense, it nulls it out completely. That’s also what keeps the collar on. The only solution that I can see is If the Feyrie nature itself ceases to exist, then the collar will fall off. Hence, death being the only way a Feyrie can stop being a Feyrie.”

  “Thanks for that unhelpful advice. Don’t get caught and lose another finger,” I say then hang up.

  “I should've killed her, and let you eat him, ages ago,” I mutter, annoyed with the entire situation.

  “I can still remedy either of those situations, if you’d like?” he teases, and for some reason it makes me laugh.

  I’ll remedy one on my own soon enough.

  11

  The next camp is packed full of soldiers and mages, but we move through them with relative ease. Iza yanks the amulets off any mages who possess them, since I can’t breach that field of Magiks while they wear it, then tosses them to me to destroy. This time there are only three amulets, which is tiring but there are two-dozen mages who I can eat to replenish my own pool of Magiks. I don’t need to eat things to survive anymore but I do need to become stronger, and eating them is the quickest way to do it.

  Iza decided to take a break and has perched herself on the hood of an old car to watch the fiends and forlorn working together, causing havoc in the group of Schoth they have pinned between them. She’s eating an apple and acting like we’re not surrounded by enemies on all sides.

  I’m a little flattered that she feels safe enough to let her guard down in such a way. Walking towards her, I stop and make a face at her that I’ve seen her give me enough. She smiles and then tosses the apple core at the head of the closest Schoth, who yelps and runs from the forlorn hot on his heels, with death in its eyes.

  “My stomach was growling so loud I was afraid of distracting you from the fight,” she teases. She makes a face and looks around me, climbing slowly to her feet with a grin full of teeth on her face. Looking over my shoulder, I smile as big as her.

  Look who decided to finally show his face.

  “Behold, beast! I will leash you once again!” Arick yells, triumphantly holding his hand in the air. The stone in it is similar to the one that held me before, but not similar enough. It glows the same but doesn’t enslave—not that he could do it alone on any day. Arick has power but it's not as great as he thinks it is. Iza makes him look like a novice in comparison.

  Laughing, Iza says, “Hello there jerkface, I can’t say I’m not happy to see you. In fact, you’re going to make all of this worth it.” She cracks her knuckles as she walks towards him. “You find a new side piece yet? I know you were fond of Darvena but she wasn’t digging you anymore. Her tastes were rather,” she looks at me, “Exotic.”

  “You killed her you bitch! I’ll flay your skin off your body while you’re alive for that.” Iza snorts at his threat. “You will fear me!”

  “The only time I was afraid of you was when you were talking about sticking your wiener near me. That terrified me—until I saw how small it is.” As she talks she continues walking towards him.

  ‘You going to stand there or go
get him?’’ she asks in her mind. Smiling at her as I walk past, I cut the head off the guard with Arick and grab Arick by his throat. Lifting him into the air I look up at the man who was nothing but a childish sadist—not even a good one—and slam him down on the ground.

  The bones in his back give under the force, and as I release him and step back, Iza’s boot steps on his face. Leaning on her knee with her elbow she looks down at him and says, “Hey there. If you suck his dick,” she hooks her thumb towards me, “I might let you live.”

  “Any...thing...I’ll do anything,” he pleads, just before he manages to get out from under her boot. Iza rolls her eyes and steps back from him.

  “Seriously?” She looks at me. “You should probably eat him already, I’ll just keep doing or saying dumb shit to him and drag this out too long.”

  “Feel free to torture him like he did you,” I say out loud.

  She shakes her head. “There’s no fun in torturing someone who will give up the first two-minutes because he’s a pussy. Not even two-minutes.” Giving him a look of disgust she backs away from him and turns towards the truck. The fiends and forlorn have taken care of the last of the Schoth in the camp, including most of the bodies. The only sound is Arick’s sobbing.

  I look down at the man who made the last little bit of my punishment a sloppy mess of forced sex with his consort, and idiotic sadism. I grab him by the ankle. The memories I have of him are faint, in some cases nonexistent, because he wasn’t important enough to remember.

  But he will make a nice little snack.

  We directly head towards the nearby town. It’s full of Schoth, one in particular that Iza is itching to get ahold of. Rickher, our old 'guard' from prison. He's just a bonus though. Something—someone—else is pulling at her to go there; from what I can gather in her thoughts, it’s a Feyrie. One she’s been searching for this entire time. The one who betrays his own to the Schoth and sells children to Blood Locks. She doesn’t know his name but that’s not an important factor.