by R D Martin
Approaching it with as much caution as possible, she stopped just short of touching it. As far as the barrier was concerned, as long as she didn’t touch it, it would ignore her. Mustering all their combined magic, she flattened it out a thousand times thinner than a human hair, creating a sheet as tall as the purple wall, but nowhere near as thick. Satisfied with her work, she nodded and with a sweep of her hand sent the sheet of multicolored magic flying into the distance, following the curve of the wall as it looked for any weak or thin spots in the massive structure.
Moments turned into seconds, which gave way to minutes as they waited for the magic to tell them something. A tingling in her stomach, like an itch just below the skin, told her the magic was returning without having found anything she was looking for. With no holes, no weak spots to exploit, she moved on to Plan B.
Mentally pacing herself from the barrier, she changed the shape of the magic she controlled. Instead of keeping it as a flat sheet, she made it fold itself repeatedly until, at last, it resembled a colorful spear as thin as a needle with a tip so sharp it could pass between molecules of air without disturbing atoms.
Praying the spear would work, she reared back and threw the projectile with as much magical might as she possessed at the barrier.
The purple surface rippled and shook from the impact as the tip of the magical spear pressed into it. Pushing harder than she’d ever thought possible, she tried to get the spear to puncture the flowing barrier. There was a flash and, almost without warning, the spear sank nearly an inch into the purple construct.
From somewhere a wailing arose, sharp and harsh like a cat singing on a fence. It felt as though all the fingernails run across blackboards throughout history were now concentrated in her head, causing her mind to lurch from the noise. There was no escaping the pitch as it wound higher and higher, making her head to throb and her mind lose focus. That was, she realized, the purpose of the noise. If she lost focus, even for a second, the barrier could push back and make her lose any gains she’d made.
The magic flowing through the spear told her she’d gone in more than a foot at this point. As it wormed its way through the barrier, it felt as though the spear was being torn apart from all sides, almost as if the magic it was fighting through was trying to dissolve it in acid. It was only her will that kept the spear moving and intact. Prodding the darkness around the tip of her weapon, she could see the purple was getting lighter. Light was coming from somewhere and she could feel the hope swelling in her chest. An end to this fight was coming and she would win.
Renewed, she pressed her advantage, ignoring the screaming in the back of her mind as best she could. If someone in her kitchen was watching, they’d see her sitting in a chair while holding on to a silver necklace with no idea of the battle raging inside aside from a slight trembling of her wrist and a bead of sweat trickling down the back of her neck.
Though she could feel the spear sliding through the purple barrier with more ease, she started getting the sense that something was wrong. Within the currents of magical energy shifting and flowing around her, a small sour tang began forming. It was small enough that, with all her concentration on piercing the barrier in front of her, she barely noticed it. But as it grew, the tang pulled at her concentration.
Her spear shifted again, pushing deeper into the dark wall. The purple color of the barrier shifted again, becoming even lighter. She knew she was almost through the wall, and once the point of her spear pierced the veil, she would know where Samantha was being held.
The sour tang became even stronger. Before it had been like a drop of lemon juice in a glass of cold water. Now, though, it was as if she was sucking on the lemon itself. The colors floating in the surrounding air swirled at a faster pace now, energized by the massive amount of magic flowing through her. She’d experienced nothing like this before but didn’t have time to waste. Concentrating on her connection with the spear, she could see the other side of the barrier. It was hazy and distorted like looking through a piece of glass coated with grape jelly, but it was there.
Her heartbeat quickened and her skin flushed. The distortion ebbed and flowed, flattening out as it became clearer. She could see movement on the other side. Lots of movement, like a mall the day after Thanksgiving. There was something about what she saw that tickled her memory.
A slight jar vibrated through her needlelike spear, telling her it reached the inner edge and was trying to push through. There was nothing to stop her from finding Samantha now. Thrusting with everything in her, she felt the inner edge of the barrier starting to give way. There was still some fight in it, though, as it stretched around her weapon, bending and flowing to keep her from making it all the way through.
Once more, she thought, and to her surprise she felt William’s consciousness agreeing with her, pushing her to finish the job. It was the first time since she decided on piercing the barrier she’d felt him and what she felt sent a chilling terror racing down her spine to lodge in her stomach as a frozen, swirling ice ball.
Through their connection in the Pelago spell she could feel that he’d given everything he could and more. Their combined magics had made it possible for her to bore through the barrier, something she could never have done alone, but she’d never considered the toll it would take on him.
He’d always been so sure of himself, so poised in everything he did that she’d never considered the possibility she’d be the one with the greater power. Using her sight, she stepped back to look at her companion and for the first time saw the effect the spell was having on him.
Instead of the solid person he should be, his body had gone translucent, little more than an outline through which she could see the shifting, swirling colors of magic only visible in the mind’s eye. Delving into him through their connection, she could tell he was out of magic, but if that was the case, where was his power coming from? The moment he had no more energy to give, he should have snapped out of the spell. Even worse, the sour tang she’d been experiencing had come from him.
With no choice left and promising to apologize later, she dived into his mind, sifting through it to find the answers she needed. The moment she started, she met a block as hard as steel and so cold it burned to touch. Somehow, despite having no magic left, he’d found a way to keep her out of a small section of his mind.
Ignoring the block for now, she sped around it and continued searching. As she moved and sifted through his thoughts, she could feel him trembling around her. She knew she had to hurry. Splitting her concentration between her companion and the spear caused her to lose some ground. Not much, true, but any ground lost was ground she’d have to fight for again. Pausing her search, she sent a sliver of power to wrap around the spear, shooting spikes into the surrounding purple mire. Satisfied that would keep the spear in place for a little while, she turned back to her task.
A wave of the sour tang assaulted her, threatening to overwhelm her senses and making her skin crawl. Pushing past her own discomfort, she followed the tang to its source. Reaching into his core, to her horror, she found the answer she was looking for.
Knowing he was about to run out of magic, he’d shifted the Pelago spell. Instead of feeding it with his power, he was now feeding it with his life.
No, she thought as she saw the damage done. No, no, no, no. She couldn’t tell how much of his life he’d poured into the spell, be it a day, a month, or even years. All she could tell was that the power now burrowing its way through the barrier between her and Samantha was tearing away at him.
Sending her thoughts flying through the spear, ready to pull it back, she realized it was farther along than where she’d left it. A flickering orange glow now suffused the magical weapon and was slowly edging it forward. Following the orange line back to its source, she discovered William, weakened though he was and losing his time on Earth even faster, was pushing it ahead. He knew he could die, but didn’t want the spell stopped.
At the rate he was burning through
his core, though, unless she added her concentration to the spell, he would be dead before they finished. If she added her power back into the mix, they might make it through, but it was still possible he could die.
Looking through her needle, she saw the images on the other side clearing up enough to make out shadows of individual people moving back and forth. There was something weird about the shadows, though, something familiar she couldn’t quite place. They were so close to making it all the way through. Pulling back, she looked at William’s core. The power he was pushing through it made the orange sphere of his life burn faster, tearing away at his lifeline.
They were so close, though. One strong push and they could be through, they’d know where to find Samantha and William could rest, recover what he had lost as long as a spark remained. But, seeing the orange glow in his center flickering, she wasn’t sure he had one last push in him.
With a cry of anguish, torn between losing the girl and losing the man, Bella made up her mind. With a wild swing of her own power, she cut the silver-beaded thread of the spell holding them together, snapping the thread and throwing them out of the swirling vortex of the unseen world.
Opening her eyes and blinking to force them to focus, she watched William fall from his chair and land on the floor with a resounding thud.
Jumping from her seat, she felt a wave of nausea that almost caused her to fall as well. Stumbling, holding on to the table for support, she made her way to him. Grunting under the effort of rolling his crumpled form onto his back, she winced as the knot in her stomach tightened.
His normal sun-kissed shade was gone, leaving him a shallow pale color as though he’d never ventured outside in his life. A sheen of sweat covered him from head to toe, darkening his T-shirt and making it stick to him like a second skin. She couldn’t see or feel him breathing and, afraid she’d acted too late, put her ear to his chest and held her breath.
She couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding of the blood in her own ears. Mind racing, she tried to calm her breathing, to slow down the panic she felt rising. Controlling herself, she tried again.
There, just under the discord of her emotions and thoughts, she heard a thump in his chest. First one, then another, then a third.
Relieved at finding him alive, though just barely it seemed, she fell back to lie on the floor herself. Taking large gulping breaths, she stared up at the off-white popcorn pattern of her kitchen ceiling.
She’d been so close to finding Samantha. Just a little more and she’d have been there. But finding her and letting William die in the process was not a trade she would make. There were other ways, still other things they could do. The thought of losing him made the skin on her arms tingle and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She needed him too much right now.
Movement to her right caught her attention. Letting her head loll to the side, she watched Cat prance across the kitchen floor, coming to a stop and sitting a few feet away. Lifting its rear leg, the cat scratched itself behind the head for a moment. Satisfied, it looked at her with eyes too intelligent to belong to any animal.
“So,” said Cat, staring at the two humans on the floor. “Did it work?”
Bella wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, so she settled on a combination of both.
Chapter 19
Since his injuries were magical, there wasn’t much Bella could do to help other than give him time. Time and soup. So far he’d choked down two bowls of Chicken Noodle, one bowl of Chicken and Stars, and almost finished a bowl of some store-brand canned soup she’d found gathering dust on the back of a shelf. At the rate he was going, she’d have to go out to get him more.
The sound of metal clinking against ceramic made her turn around in time to see William pushing his latest conquered bowl away. Leaning back, hand on a stomach distended from all the food he’d consumed, he gave a contented sigh.
“Well,” she asked, smiling at him, “you finished or do you want me to find something else? I’m sure I’ve got a pack of Ramen around here somewhere.” She kept her tone as light and joking as possible, trying to hide the guilt she felt for almost killing him.
“Well, since you offered,” he started, a smug grin splitting his face. Seeing her reach for the empty pot on the stove, he held up a hand. “Kidding. Just kidding. I’m good.”
“Are you sure? I mean I could go out, bring something back. It’s no trouble, really.”
“No, I’m good. Really, I am.”
After getting him back on his feet and the first bowl of soup into his belly, they’d talked about what had happened and what she’d done. Though he spent a good portion of time trying to convince her it wasn’t her fault, she’d only done what she needed to do, and it was his choice to continue, she still felt a leaden ball of guilt and shame pressing down in her stomach.
She could tell he was trying to be nice, to put her at ease, but the only thing that accomplished was making her feel worse. Dropping into the chair opposite him, she leaned back and sighed.
“So, what are we going to do now?” she asked, staring up at the ceiling tiles.
“Oh, that’s easy,” William replied. “Step one, I get changed. Step two, we find the last part of the blade. Step four, we rescue the kid. See? Easy.”
“Yeah, easy. But you left out step three.”
“Hey, I thought we were a team. Step three is your job, I came up with the rest.” He laughed.
The sound of his laughter sliced through the tension in the apartment with the ease of a needle popping a balloon. And just like the balloon, she could feel some of her pent-up tension draining from her shoulders.
“But seriously. What are we going to do? I mean we’re dealing with Chryso Milo. He’s rich, influential, obviously powerful, definitely not human. And, oh yeah, I forgot. He’s our boss. What are we going to do? Walk into his office and politely ask him to stop whatever he’s doing or… What? We’ll call the cops? They’ll just arrest us instead and he still wins.”
“True, he could do that. Or…” He let the word hang in the air.
“Or what?”
“Or,” he said, waving his hand in the air like a magician about to pull off an amazing new trick. “We don’t tell him anything or even confront him. Instead, I say we do the smart thing here and tell the Imperium about whatever he’s up to. They’ll take care of him and we can just, you know, get back to normal.”
“The Imperium? Really?” she said, her lips pursing as though she’d just bitten into a very sour lemon.
“Yes, the Imperium. What’s wrong with that? They’re supposed to deal with these things, aren’t they?”
It was true the Imperium could deal with this, but she wasn’t inclined to trust any group she didn’t know.
“Well, first,” she said, counting points with her fingers. “We don’t know how to get hold of them. Second, even if we got in touch with them, they’d be more interested in Chryso than rescuing Samantha. Third, their scorched earth policy would probably end up killing Samantha. And fourth, I don’t trust them.”
“Don’t you think you may be overreacting just a bit? I mean, they’re supposed to help us when we need it, aren’t they?”
“They’re supposed to keep us from being noticed, not keep us safe. There’s a difference. Besides, you said it yourself. Us. They’re here for us. Samantha’s just a plain human, and as far as the Imperium is concerned, she’s collateral damage.”
“So then what do we do? Ronnie said whatever was going to happen would happen in two days.” He paused a moment. “Make that tomorrow. Our time is running out and we don’t know where or even how we can stop Chryso.”
“Well, that’s not true,” said Cat, prancing into the kitchen. Jumping up onto the table, he sniffed the empty soup bowl before lying down with his paws tucked beneath himself.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I said that’s not true. You do, in fact, know how to stop him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Cat, tell me.”
“What’s my name?”
“What?”
“I said, ‘What’s my name?’ Simple question, really.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“As it’s my information to give, I get to demand the price. So, what’s my name?”
“Fine,” she said, huffing a breath in exasperation. “Felix Labarde Jupiter Ramiro de Clepta III. Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” Cat replied with a smug tone. “You know, it's only proper to address a superior being like myself with all due respect. I’ve been asking you for years to call me by—”
“Cat,” she said, interrupting him, “if you don’t tell me now, I swear I will spend the rest of your life feeding you nothing but dry, stale cat food.”
“Is that supposed to frighten me?”
“No, but this is. Not only will I stop bringing in anything in a can, but I will mend the holes you’ve made in the apartment ward. You know the ones I mean. The small one under the counter, the two in the spare room. Oh, and the one in the living room. I know about that one too. No more holes for you to sneak in or out. No more leaving the apartment whenever you want.”
“Please, I’m a cat. I can always find—”
“And I’ll cancel our cable.”
“What?”
“Yep. No more soaps, no drama TV, nothing.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
The two of them locked eyes in a battle of wills. The tension between them grew taut as each struggled with the decision they would make. It was Cat who looked away first.
“Fine. I was going to tell you anyway.” Yawning as if bored with the conversation already, the familiar continued. “As I was saying, you know how to stop Chryso no matter what he is. Didn’t Ceto tell you that the blade could kill anything?”