The Lillim Callina Chronicles: Volumes 1-3

by J. A. Cipriano

  Thud!

  Pain shot through my body as I began to scrambled to my feet, trying to shake my blurry vision back into focus.

  Click.

  My heart hammered in my chest as the sound of his claws scraping against the stone grew louder with each step he took.

  Click.

  I turned to face the creature as he strode down the stairs toward me like an avenging god, thin wisps of my hair fluttering from his hand. I touched my scalp and my hand came away crimson. That’s when I noticed about a zillion other werewolves were gathered at the hole in the wall I’d made earlier. To make matters worse, the shaman had positioned himself in front of the only means of escape… again. I hadn’t even noticed the bastard doing it. He was good, a little too good for my liking.

  “I didn’t want to do this,” I screamed, ripping my katana from its sheath and calling upon my magic even though doing so was likely to alert the Dioscuri to my presence in this camp.

  The absolute last thing I needed right now was for one of them to teleport in and complicate things. Still, I really didn’t want to get eviscerated by a werewolf. Rock and a hard place, I know.

  “Don’t bother. While you may have been able to use your Dioscuri weapons to break in here, their power won’t work within these walls.” He seemed so sure of himself, it really pissed me off.

  “Fair enough.” I drew my Glock 19 in one swift movement and fired. The 9mm bullet went wide, smacking into the stone behind him. I don’t know how, but he’d managed to cross the room and grab hold of my left hand before I could get off another shot.

  His vice-like grip wrenched my hand sideways, and my gun clattered to the ground. I twisted with my arm, settled my feet, and drove my knee into his crotch. His wild eyes glazed even before he doubled over. Finally, something I’d done had hurt him. I slammed my palm into the side of his head with all the force I could muster and shouted, “White Sparrow!”

  A pillar of superheated light crashed into him. From the look on his face, I think it surprised him. Just because I couldn’t use my magical weapons, didn’t mean I couldn’t use other spells. I smiled. My mother would have been proud.

  The werewolf’s flesh began to burn, and the smell of charred meat filled my nostrils. As he pounded against the flaming barrier, bits of blackened hair and skin flaked off his body. I turned away from him and stared at the numerous werewolves outside.

  “Bring it,” I said, holding up my empty hand and curling my fingers toward me in what I was sure was an awesome show of bravado.

  The wave of werewolves rushed the hole in the wall, making me glad I had turned toward them, but less glad I’d antagonized them. Behind me, the burning power I’d unleashed roiled around the shaman. I took a step back from the oncoming horde and felt my spell suddenly weaken. I glanced at the shaman as he twisted his head toward one of the windows high up on the wall. Through the window, the full moon seemed to be no more than a few yards away. Moonlight seemed to pour into the room, filling the space between the shaman and my spell.

  Crack!

  My spell shattered, blowing outward in a wave of energy that tore a scream from my lips. My knees buckled, and I fell sprawling to the ground. The beasts closed in on me, circling like the pack of wolves they were.

  Not good.

  The shaman howled and stepped forward, smoke rising off of him in wispy tendrils. I managed to move back onto my haunches before he rushed me. I tore my wakazashi from its sheath and drove it into his gut as he crashed into me. Gore exploded from the wound as I wrenched the blade sideways with both hands, splitting him from crotch to shoulder in one blow.

  Warm blood splattered on my face, and the werewolf howled in unrestrained fury as his claws struggled to find purchase in my flesh. Thankfully, it was difficult for him to break through my spell-hardened overcoat.

  With a howl of frustration, he somehow ignored getting gored and clamped his massive paws around my throat. My feet lifted from the air as my blood-slicked hands slid off my wakazashi and left it lodged in his flesh. I struggled, pounding my fists against his already healing chest as the world around me faded into blackness.

  6

  My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring into the empty eye sockets of a grotesque corpse. I screamed and tried to fling myself away. Pain shot through me as I sucked down a breath that was like swallowing a handful of rusty nails. My heart hammered in my chest as I tried frantically to get away.

  Something wet and slimy struck my back, and I screamed again. The rustle of wings filled my ears. Twisting my head toward the sound, I saw a large raven plunge its beak downward, stabbing at a bloated corpse that hung behind me. The body was so close, its bulbous, distended belly actually rubbed against my back as it swayed in the wind. I shrieked and tried to push it away, but my hands were stuck fast to my sides.

  Thick brown rope bound my limbs together so tightly, I could scarcely move. I was hanging upside down from a tree filled with too many bodies to count. A tremor ran down my spine as realization struck me. I was in a hanging tree. I’d heard about them before. It was where werewolves hung convicts to die. The thought sobered me. Lillim Callina was not going to die hanging upside down from a tree. I shut my eyes and focused on taking a few breaths… slowly.

  I opened my eyes. Just a few inches away, a crow was studying my face. It blinked its beady eyes and twitched its beak before turning back to the body in front of me. I swallowed and tried to move my hands. My fingers brushed the hilt of Set, and the touch of it surprised me. Why did I still have my swords? Had my captors really just left me here unattended with my weapons? Seriously? I shook my head and smiled. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t going to complain.

  “Finally. I was worried you would never wake up,” Mattoc cooed into my ear. “They had an argument about you a few minutes ago and went to confer with the elders. I guess the shaman wants to execute you now. He kept talking about some kind of ritual where they ripped out your heart and offered it to the gods. He said such a ritual would open your spirit pouch.”

  “Thanks for waking me up.” I smiled at Mattoc, glad to see him. At least if I died now, I wouldn’t be alone. Still, I wasn’t planning on dying.

  “Let’s go,” he hissed. Even though I was upside down, he floated so we were eye to eye. He made a ‘hurry up’ gesture with his hands.

  “Kay.” I shut my eyes and swallowed. My head pounded enough to make it difficult to focus on my magic. It took a lot longer than usual to call up my power, but as magic swelled up inside me, I found myself communing with nature itself. I could hear the wind rustling in the trees, feel pine needles prickling my skin, and smell the fragrance of the grasses far below. I opened myself to the ebb and flow of magic until it slapped against my senses like lapping waves. Very carefully, I pulled that thread of power into myself.

  It swelled up inside me until I felt like I was going to burst. The energy kept coming, kept filling me like I was a water balloon and someone had forgotten to shut off the tap. I panicked. My eyes shot open and a soundless scream tore from my throat. All around me sigils in the tree burned with eerie green light. As I tried to release my power they glowed brighter. I didn’t know how they were doing it, but somehow those markings were messing with my ability to unleash my magic. I could call it just fine, but use it? Nope.

  Mattoc reached out, running his hands along my face. While I couldn’t feel his touch per se, a cool clamminess spread across my cheek. It gave me something to anchor to, something to hold onto as power rushed into me. I closed my eyes once more and focused. I had to pour this energy into something, or I was going to explode.

  I strained against the ropes, my breath coming out in quick little gasps as I forced the magic into my muscles. The tremendous pressure building inside me began to ease as my muscles bulged. Veins corded beneath my skin as I focused everything on breaking the ropes. They didn’t budge.

  The sigils burned brighter and brighter, growing into miniature suns as I struggled to get free.
I didn’t know exactly what the werewolves’ plan for me was, but one thing was certain. If I couldn’t escape…

  Snap!

  The thick ropes tore apart around me like I was the Incredible Hulk, and I tumbled downward. I reached out, trying to stop my fall. My fingers closed around the soft, gooey flesh of a corpse’s leg, and pieces of decaying meat tore away in my hands.

  I landed hard on the slimy bones littering the ground beneath the hanging tree. My breath whooshed out of my lungs. I lay there trying to remember how to breathe again while the corpses danced in the wind above me. After what felt like hours, I crawled to my hands and knees.

  As I tried to stand, a wave of dizziness swept over me. I wobbled to the side and reached out a hand to grab onto Mattoc, who, being the incorporeal bastard that he was, let me fall straight through his body. Nausea crashed down on me like a sledgehammer, and it was all I could do to keep from actually vomiting up my lungs.

  “You probably should have thought that through a little more,” Mattoc said as I wiped off my mouth and glared at him. “I hear parachutes are popular.”

  He shrugged and sat down next to me, and for a brief moment, I thought he was going to touch me again. Instead, he shook his head. “You’ll feel better after you rest for a bit, Lil’. Too bad we don’t have time for that. You best try to get out of here before those mangy mutts return.”

  I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a response. Part of it was me being stubborn. My shoulder ached from the fall, but I wasn’t going to admit I’d been hurt. The other part of it was I was covered in blood and thicker, slimier things. I was getting the hell out of here as quickly as I could.

  Mattoc’s eyes widened as I pulled a thin bone-whistle out of my pocket and placed it to my lips. “You’re not seriously going to use the Will-o-whistle?” Trepidation edged into his voice as he spoke.

  “It’s the quickest way home, and besides, I don’t have to take advice from you. You’re my ghost,” I replied, knowing he was right to be scared. Supernatural methods of travel ended badly more often than not.

  Mattoc sighed, loudly. “Because blowing a noise-making whistle with a bunch of wolf-like monsters around is the smart move. Why not add a drum corps? Perhaps some woodwinds and a whole brass band while you’re at it?”

  He continued to prattle on as I blew into the whistle, eliciting a shrill, almost sub-human wail from the instrument.

  A large glowing ball of orange light appeared in front of me so suddenly it was like it had always been there. Energy trailed off of it as the large magenta eye in the center of its flame-like body looked at me in disapproval. The creature was too bright to look at directly. Without thinking, I shielded my eyes with my left hand and turned slightly away from it.

  “For what reason have you summoned me, mortal?” The wisp spoke directly into my mind, and it was like having someone bang on a gong inside my skull. I shook my head, unused to the mental intrusion and glared at the creature.

  It had probably lived eons for every second I’d been alive, but that didn’t mean it had to be so damn rude. As a rule, wisps were not friendly creatures, and usually, I tried to avoid them. To be fair though, I avoided anything with a penchant for eating babies. Still, I wasn’t exactly sure how the wisp would eat a baby because it didn’t seem to have a mouth.

  Wisps also tended to follow instructions in a way that wouldn’t be considered helpful. In most situations, summoning a wisp to help would be last on my list of possible solutions to a dilemma. Unfortunately, I didn’t know where Voln had sent me, and I didn’t exactly have cab fare and a cell phone.

  I pictured my home in my mind’s eye and shoved the image toward the wisp. Part of me had been tempted to have the thing take me directly to Voln, but I wasn’t sure I could picture him well enough for that to work out satisfactorily. That meant I was stuck taking the portal by my apartment. Hopefully it was still there.

  “Take me home, and by home I mean I want to be placed lightly on my couch. I do not want to be placed fifty miles above my home or some other type of nonsense,” I ordered while glancing around to see if there were any werewolves around. None were, but that’d no doubt change soon.

  “How dare you speak to me in such a way? You are but a very small speck in the scope of time, less than a mote in the eye of a bacterium. When speaking to me, you will speak with respect.” The wisp flared, and I had to turn my back to it to keep from going blind. Even still, spots danced in front of my eyes.

  I waved the whistle, and the wisp froze in place. A wisp bound to a whistle had to follow the owner of said whistle’s demands. At least, that’s what the first line in Dealing with Wisps, A Comprehensive Handbook said when I’d read it back home. I’d never actually tried it out before.

  “Just do it. Now!” I growled, and as I said the words, the scenery around me blurred into a mishmash of color and texture.

  As the surroundings snapped back into focus, I found myself standing on the battered couch in my apartment. Having completed his job, the wisp was already gone, which was good but not terribly interesting. What was interesting about my return home though was that my goddamned apartment was on fire.

  When you’re my age, not too many places will rent to you. Not without asking a lot of awkward questions no amount of lying and forged paperwork can really work through. Hell, I only had this apartment because someone had given it to me.

  Now it was burning to the ground, and the prospect of explaining why I was here to local firefighters was, at best, problematic. Never mind why there were several firearms here, most of which weren’t exactly one-hundred percent legal. This was pretty much my worst-case scenario. If I didn’t do something soon, even if the Dioscuri didn’t show up on my doorstep and drag me back, I’d have nowhere to live. The thought of returning to a life of being homeless and on the run filled me with abject terror. I’d been there, done that, and avoided keeping the T-shirt.

  A flaming beam crashed to the floor in front of me, sending a flurry of embers in my direction. I ignored the cinders and flung my hands outward, allowing the heat from the fire to feed into me. It crawled along my flesh like boiling lava, threatening to consume me from the inside out. A scream of pain tore from my lips as my skin turned an ugly shade of lobster red and thick white clouds of steam curled off of my arms.

  “Udo!” I cried, forcing all my pain, anger, and fear out in a rush of energy.

  As storm clouds swelled into existence in the room, I struggled under the effort of turning one type of elemental energy into the other. My vision went spotty as a torrential downpour sprang to life in my living room.

  A mixture of rain and sweat ran down my face as I dropped to my knees, lost in concentration. I gripped the hilt of Isis in an effort to focus my energy and shut my eyes, allowing the blade’s sense of calm to wash over me and help me control the fire. I could do this. I was a Dioscuri. I was a master of magic!

  Something struck my face hard enough to nearly break my nose. I flopped backward onto my butt as my control over the storm clouds in my living room shattered. The clouds started to dissipate as a masked man stood over me, grinning like he was the goddamned Joker.

  He wore the deep maroon and purple robes that belonged to a caste of vampires known as the Owls. I knew because I’d helped them mount a coup against their leader earlier in the year.

  Instead of pressing his advantage, he pulled a thin, wiry key from his pocket. I gulped down wet, smoke-filled air and nearly gagged as I got to my feet. It wasn’t fair vampires didn’t have to breathe.

  He wiped the key on his knuckles, knuckles that were covered in blood. I touched my lips and realized my mouth was bleeding. The vampire had my blood. Crap! With my blood, he could get into my spirit pouch, and I’d only put one thing in there recently… the siren box.

  The ground beneath my feet trembled, and my bathroom, along with the surrounding walls, exploded outward. The shockwave of the blast flung me behind the couch like a ragdoll. I landed with so
little grace, I could scarcely believe I’d actually fallen in such a way. Before I could do more than cover up into a ball, bits of super-heated shrapnel smashed into the couch, knocking it backward on top of me.

  Water began pouring from the pipes in my former bathroom, simultaneously putting out most of the fire and turning the floor into a thick sludge of char and drywall. I pushed the couch off of me and pulled my shotgun free from beneath the cushions. I pointed it at the vampire.

  The creature stood there unfazed; evidently the explosion had not been sufficiently destructive to merit much of a response. I doubted my landlord would agree. Then again, my landlord would probably frown on me keeping dynamite in the bathroom.

  The vampire muttered something that sounded more like a growl than human speech. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together over my blood, and more pain than I’d ever felt shrieked through my body. My vision went hazy, and the shotgun slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.

  Miniature suns burst behind my eyes as I tried to get to my hands and knees. The vampire flicked his wrist, and it was like someone had taken an axe to the air itself. A ragged scream burst from my lips as my things tumbled from the bloody swath that used to be my spirit pouch. The siren box hit the ground with a thud, and as it did, its song settled over me like a heavy blanket. Momentarily distracted from the pain by the box’s call, I took one of the toughest steps in my life toward the vampire.

  The creature strode over to the box and waved one jewel-encrusted hand at it. The enchantment on the siren box fell away, and it was like having a bandage ripped off of my entire body at once. He reached inside and pulled what looked like a baby out of the box. Holy Hell!

  My heart skipped a beat. Surely, I hadn’t kidnapped an infant. I started to say something as he flicked his bloody hand at me. A wave of exhaustion swept over me. My legs started shaking as I fell to my hands and knees.