by Jim Stein
“They made him strip?” Claude scooped up the discarded shirt.
A few feet farther on we found a cracked phone among scattered bits of jagged plastic. The thick street grime and grasses poking from the gutter were scuffed and torn as if by many feet.
“Shawn’s phone.” Claude said.
Residual Earth magic clung to the road, along a narrow crack. It felt similar to the earthquake I’d caused. Ambitious spell for someone who until recently didn’t know they had magic. Even if he could wield the power, Shawn lacked the experience to pull off something that big. I looked at the broken phone, the signs of struggle, and the price tag peeking out of the collar of the shirt hanging at Claude’s side. Quinn put the pieces together too.
“They lured him into a trap,” she said.
“Yep.” I fingered the tag. “Brand new. There never was a Bright involved. Shawn bit hook, line, and sinker.” I drew a downy white feather from my pocket. “Let’s see if we can home in on him.”
***
Pina glared at the clock. Seven thirty, and still no Edan or Quinn. The trail grew colder with each passing moment.
“Do you think she’ll be okay if I duck out?” she asked the sleepy dog pinning Anna against the headboard.
Max gave her hand a cold wet sniff. She petted his big head until he laid it back down across the girl’s thigh. With the amount of calming magic she’d used, nothing short of a healthy slap would rouse Anna. The dark binding took its own toll too. It drank deeply from the girl as Pina methodically unraveled tendrils to reveal the one heading…away. Even now, it writhed, trying to coil back in upon itself and the Bright.
The binding spell crossed planes of existence. Pina scented its corruption—difficult to trace, like a dead mouse in the wall. She could follow the link back to its source if she left soon. Once the thing wadded up again, they would be back to square one.
Pina chewed the tip of her index finger wishing Edan would step through the door so she wouldn’t have to leave Anna alone. Simply severing the nasty bond would be easier—if she could—but it had been attached to the girl’s mental and emotional aspects for too long. Even if she managed to break the spell, the shock might do Anna permanent harm. Plus the hungry thing would latch onto the next available source of nourishment.
Shutting it down at its source was best and would let some of the stolen energies flow back to Anna before the greedy thing collapsed. The door remained stubbornly closed, and Anna rested peacefully. Max would guard her.
“You be a good boy. Bark loud if Anna needs help. Okay?” Pina kissed Max between his eyebrows, inhaling his yeasty scent—one last bit of clean before she set off along that dark trail. “Wish me luck.”
The foul stench tickled her nose, but moving through the deepening evening improved her mood. Happy to be doing something useful, Pina strode faster, turned a corner, and phased though a tree that rose from the sidewalk. The sprite nations were discounted as insignificant by the greater spirits. Even her lord Kokopelli didn’t think enough of her to share his plans and let her help. He took too much upon himself.
She kicked a rusty pipe off the sidewalk. It clattered into the street, spinning about the odd meter weighing the pole down on one end. Her lord was simply too preoccupied with his work to realize how much he needed her soothing magic.
The path crossed a courtyard between old brick buildings. A rusting gate blocked the path. She could circle the building but grew tired of traipsing through these shadows of man’s past. With a downward chop, magic cleaved the hasp on the lock. The gate screeched in protest, canted under its own weight, and fell aside.
Maybe it was time the little people stopped waiting for every other being in existence to decide on a path forward. Her people didn’t cower from the dark. They could help set the course.
She hopped over the fallen gate, crossed the courtyard, and stopped before a towering bronze doorway. The metal nestled in a brick alcove, again blocking her way, but this was no rusting artifact. It was solid and heavy, banded at top and bottom with rivets gleaming dully under the streetlamps.
Pina raised her hand and probed at the doorway. Not human construction at all. It didn’t simply block the way, it guarded. No mundane or magical creature would bypass this steadfast sentry. The door would do its job until the end of time. If not here, then wherever it was assigned.
Pina sighed. The end of the binding could be just beyond. Restoring Anna would prove her competence to Edan. He would be able to get her back into her lord’s good graces. It wasn’t fair to come this far only to be shut out again, and this time by a stubborn, self-important doorway. She pushed power along the perimeter of the obstacle, searching for a weakness in its resolve. Obstinance met her at every turn.
Without a sound, the door swung inward. The shadow she followed coalesced into a palpable force, a dark presence a thousand times more potent than the nebulous thread. She gagged on the wave of corruption as a shaggy foot stepped from the dark. Pina scrambled back and smacked painfully against warm metal. The bronze door stood behind her, stretching from wall to wall in its implacable way.
Claws as long as her arm curved out from the massive paw. Her gaze swept up a wide leg to a heavily muscled torso matted with thick brown fur. Feral red eyes leered down from high above, and dark lips pulled back along the monster’s snout to reveal yellow fangs. Little folk weren’t afraid of the dark, but something inside her screamed.
24. A Serpent Among Us
“Y
OU…AREN’T…LISTENING.” Manny spoke slowly, reining in his anger.
“Don’t worry about the crowd. Plenty more where they came from,” Leif assured him from the other end of the line. “Tammy, what venues are left at Indianapolis?”
Manny hated speaker phones. His employer’s vacuous assistant back in Los Angles prattled on about alternate show dates and schedules. Interrupting again would push his luck. He ground his teeth in frustration until she finished.
“As long as you hit the road within the week, you can get in three shows easy,” his boss concluded, sounding smug and again ignoring Manny’s real concern.
“It isn’t about the shows or the numbers. You have to rein in your thugs.” Manny consulted the slim stack of papers on his makeshift desk. “I have police reports from California, Nevada, and now Montana. Missing…person… reports. Do you understand? Six people missing in the wake of the tour.”
“Just do your job, Mr. Slack.” Leif’s tone went flat and hard.
Manny bristled at the implied threat, but couldn’t dismiss it. This man was dangerous, a prince of sorts in the dark hierarchy, who only used the one name. Leif meant descendant; the question was, descended from whom…or what. Stepping on courtly toes was nothing new, but Manny liked keeping track of those he offended. Within the company Leif commanded a great deal of respect, which usually translated to fear. He needed to tread carefully.
“Your people disrupt the count. These hippies scatter when hassled. Some maybe never show. If you don’t want accurate numbers…” He let the sentence trail off into a conciliatory shrug.
Silence stretched thick on the line to the point he thought headquarters may have hung up. The scrape of a chair and heels clicking off into the distance were followed by a door closing.
“I will see what can be done.” Leif’s words grew quiet and metered. “Do your counts, play your songs, and leave the business to us. No more complaining. No more recommendations. Am I making myself perfectly clear, Mr. Slack?”
“Yes…sir.”
He disconnected and swallowed a flood of saliva. Leif’s toes tallied in the thoroughly stepped upon category. Manny’s instincts screamed for high cover. Rhonda was well connected and could wrangle up supporters above Leif for him to schmooze.
Manny glowered at the reports. Meddling in human affairs was tricky business. Headquarters rarely operated in this realm and didn’t realize how tenacious the civil and even military authorities could be when they suspected foul play. He
rubbed at his eyes. This was supposed to be a simple scouting exercise. The amount of muscle concerned him.
He’d already broken up scuffles, a kidnapping, and other transgressions. What was so special about these Brights? The unfortunate name Ed coined made the task more difficult. Even hired muscle for the Dark Court took offense at names reminiscent of the Light. Alliances could be utter nonsense, with each side rooting for their “team” and getting vicarious thrills from its success. It kept people from thinking for themselves and looking past the labels.
Manny shook his head and picked up the latest report. The authorities spared no expense to have the damned things hand-delivered, a clear indication their collective eyes watched his little enterprise. He expected it to be another missing person report or all-points-bulletin looking for lost family. But the word circled in blue ink at the top of the page read “homicide.”
***
“What now, Ed?” Trinity asked from my left.
We crouched behind a rotting car covered in vines and watched the Grims. Bald Jim looked to be in charge. Shawn sat on the ground at Dan’s feet, head hung low. The bruise around his eye and dried blood on his lip testified to the fact he had gone down fighting. Dan probably wore the Hawaiian shirt and posed as a victim.
Trinity had enough sense to tail them without trying a rescue. We caught up to her just before the Grims stopped at a massive bronze doorway totally at odds with the architecture of the ruined city. The thing was better suited for a medieval castle, though I had to admit it was effective. Jim and Dan argued over how best to get inside.
“Five of them and four of us,” I said.
“They’re bruisers,” Quinn whispered. “No offense, but we couldn’t take any of them, except maybe scraggly Dan.”
“Where’s it lead?” Trinity asked.
Good question. The out of place obstruction melded into the stone archway across a low entrance to what might be a basement level. The arguing continued as Jim tried an incantation. The door rebuffed his attempt. Oily bits of the magic passphrase dripped to the ground. Though a simple spell, the darkness of it differed from the elements Quinn and I used.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Dan complained to the men gathered at the door.
“He’s such a little shit.” Trinity’s lip curled.
“For once that’s working in our favor,” Quinn said.
Dan stalked over to the others, grabbed something small and metallic out of Jim’s hands, and examined the door. Magic formed around another incantation. Shawn sat unguarded at the entrance to the alcove. We scurried out from behind the car, circled the intersection, and crept along crumbling brickwork. The line of the alley kept us out of sight until I peeked around the corner. The Grims argued on, ignoring their dejected captive. Shawn stared at the pavement.
“Shawn.” No response. “Shawn! Time to go.”
Bleary eyes ringed with bruises met mine. He must have taken a good shot to the nose for double shiners to be rising so quickly. Recognition slowly dawned, followed by half a smile that dropped away. Shawn held up his hands. I’d missed the thin cord that bound wrists to ankles. It was silvery gray, looking more like yarn than rope.
“For crying out…” Quinn whipped out a knife and crept forward.
The moment her blade touched the cord, there was a flash. Quinn yelped and dropped her knife.
“Hey!” Dan looked up from the brass key in his hand.
“Just grab him!” I shouted.
Quinn hauled Shawn up by his armpits and pushed him forward. The cord forced him into an awkward half-crouch. I grabbed his arm to haul him down the street, but he stopped short and fell to the ground. Quinn and I pulled but couldn’t budge him. No one weighed that much. The cord flashed and flared, its strange power anchoring Shawn to the spot. More than that, a tether of power slowly dragged him back toward the doorway as the Grims advanced.
“Leave him. In fact, leave the girl. Two for the price of one!” Dan grinned his stupid parody of a Bright’s smile.
Each man carried a small club, undoubtedly weighted for maximum punch. Quinn worked at the bindings. Her strange watery power flowed along the cord looking for a way to loosen the knots. The Grims strode forward, in no hurry and—I like to think—wary. I could have taken Dan and the freak sporting a Mohawk. But I’d spent all year practicing my spells for a reason.
I reached for Earth to throw up a barrier and buy us time. Just as I was about to cast, flames leapt up between us and the men, effectively sealing them in the alcove. Trinity stood rigid, locked in concentration as she poured on more Fire and drove them back amid squawks of protest.
“Let me try.” I hunkered down to examine the cord.
Earth was ready at my fingertips, but when I tried to manipulate Shawn’s binding—as I would stone or metals—there was no purchase. The men tried end runs around Trinity’s flames, holding the woman’s concentration and forcing her to expend too much power. Another minute and we’d have to carry her out. Quinn saw it too.
“Help her!”
I dredged up a bit of old-school metal, Metallica’s “Seek and Destroy,” forging Fire to bolster Trinity’s spell. I split off a portion to attack the ropes. Fire was an enigma, representing the most restorative and destructive of the elements. I honed the lyrics down to a laser focus, emphasis on the destroy part of the tune to cut and burn. The cord swelled, resisting the heat, but frayed edges soon curled away from the core.
Shawn’s invisible bond contracted, yanking him toward the wall of fire. Quinn grabbed him around the waist but was dragged along. Even if Trinity and I cancelled our spells, they would be pulled across searing concrete into the midst of the waiting Grims.
I focused all my Fire on Shawn’s restraints. Flames flickered on the cord, but the power ran invisible below the surface. It flowed from Shawn’s bonds, crackling back toward the bronze door. The Grims scattered with shocked exclamations as my power raged through their group and slammed into the metal. A nuclear gong split the air, throwing us back. Thunder echoed like a completed seeking spell. Instead of a lost item, the door itself flashed through my thoughts, throbbing with energy and straining to contain the Fire.
The wild and unpredictable Fire shifted and changed, sneaking under the door’s protections. The magic bond parted with an audible snap, and Shawn cried out as the cord blew apart to leave sooty rings around his wrists.
My Fire roared in triumph as it again changed direction and intent, slammed into the doorway, and spread across my field of vision. Translucent flames washed over us, cold questing fury—still seeking, still destroying, but not on the physical plane. To get around the door’s defenses, the element roared through realms only the plasma could travel. My hiding spell vanished. Alive in their own right, the flames destroyed the unseen, sought out illusion, and washed it away.
This was a cleansing so far out of my control I could barely fathom what was happening, let alone stop it. There was no way to ground the reaction. The conflagration burned outward, coursing through the abandoned streets. The scenery in its wake appeared unburned, unchanged, though we all gasped as we turned back to the doorway.
A massive creature of Earth stood in place of the bronze door. Rather than radiating Elemental magic, the thing was made of it. An implacable, chalky cliff face of quartz glimmering with embedded flecks of yellow and silver metals looked back from the alcove. Swirls of gold gave the impression of timeless eyes to either side of the craggy nose. A hint of arms and legs tucked tight to its massive frame told me the wall could move, but I suspected it rarely did. It certainly didn’t seem inclined to vacate its current post or even step aside for the Grims to enter.
The men picked themselves up from among the refuse with sullen glares and dusted off clothing that suddenly hung slack on gaunt frames. Even big bald Jim had shed pounds, his barrel chest shrunken to a shallow concave that heaved as he sucked air. His breath whistled through yellow teeth and nose slits beneath shining eyes. I preferred his gleaming do
me over the ragged tufts of greasy black hair and spines covering his head. Five gaunt, lean faces snarled at us. The people we chased were discernable in their features—Jim’s wider nose, Dan’s narrow weasel lips—but the angular, sallow faces caught me off guard.
“What have you done?” Dan screeched, though I had to admit it was in his usual, annoying voice.
He clawed at a ring on his left index finger and twisted it savagely. Sparks of magic rose, sputtered, and died. All five…men wore similar jewelry, something I’d never noticed on a Grim. But the Fire negated their artifacts and the glamour they had cast. Fire destroyed and cleansed, allowing rebirth; we looked upon the Grims’ true forms.
“You could use a little sun, Dan.” My comment drew a feral snarl from Jim, who stalked forward. I raised a warning hand that crackled with flame, at odds with the deep cold that had me clipping my words to suppress the shivering. “Fire can also destroy. Don’t make me.”
Of course I didn’t really understand what had happened with the last spell or know if I had enough power left to follow through on the threat. As it was, my vision swam dangerously, but they didn’t know all that. Jim traded looks with the others, grunted, and turned away. I snuffed out the flame and sighed as the spell released its icy grip.
“You’ve started more than you can handle, human. We know who you are.” Jim threw the taunt over his shoulder and darted around the corner of the building.
I looked to the Earth Elemental, but I might as soon get information from a boulder. The thing simply stared back and faded from sight. The alcove ended in moss-covered brick—a dead end.
“Can you move?” I took a step toward Shawn only to find my knees didn’t want to support me.