Righteous Eight: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Words of Power Book 4)

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Righteous Eight: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Words of Power Book 4) Page 21

by VK Fox


  What the shit? Grabbing his exposed upper arm, Jane dug deep, trying to tap her link and search for his pneumonia. Maybe she was still too weak to heal a nine-year-old illness, but she could buy him time by fixing his recent infection and take care of the rest later. She couldn’t even sense the sickness. Scrambling in her mind for healing power was like running through rooms of a decaying home: nothing lived here anymore. It wasn’t that the well was empty; it was that it had been filled with concrete.

  Jane couldn’t breathe. What was even happening? What was she supposed to say when Zack stopped coughing? In a daze, she stood, pulling back from the damp bed, the smell of sweat and phlegm, the sounds of drowning lungs. Jane all but ran for the door, slipping out into the fresh, chilled air. Somewhere behind her, the breathless hacking was replaced by broken sobs.

  “Coming in.” Dahl’s voice echoed through the bathroom door a few seconds before the lock opened with a soft click. Jane ignored him. Her fingers ached from clutching her PDA, and her eyes were glassy. Dahl slid the small electronic from her hands.

  “Hey, Ian’s worried about you.”

  “Oh.” Jane swallowed. “What’s up?” A warm wind from the mirror ruffled his hair and made the air taste gritty. Jane blinked back tears.

  “I’m worried about you.” His eyes were kind—much kinder than she deserved. Dahl didn’t look at the red desert. Could he see it? He was focused on her, posture tense, arms crossed and standing awkwardly in the center of the bathroom. “Do you want to tell me what happened with Zack earlier?”

  “Nope.” Jane smoothed her hair back with a sweaty palm.

  “Oooookay.” Dahl’s nonchalance was only slightly strained. “Do you want to tell me what’s on your PDA?”

  “Oh, I dunno. I was messing around. The guy from First Alert posted all the cryptid information and I downloaded it before we left the convent. I don’t know how much of it’s true, but it’s interesting.”

  “What’s interesting about it?”

  “Well, they found a legend for The Jersey Devil, who is also known as the Leeds Devil or the Pine Devil. He was the son of a woman living in a hovel with twelve children and a drunk husband. When mother Leeds found out she was expecting another baby, she swore ‘The Devil take this one!’ and he must have been listening, because a few months later she gave birth to a monster with razor claws and needle teeth who devoured her before disappearing into the pine forest. Now he perpetually stalks the edges of New England towns picking off unwary pets, tourists, and children. Or at least he did until we bumped him off a year ago.”

  “That’s kind of an unhappy story.”

  “Yeah, sucks for all involved, right? The Jersey Devil didn’t do anything wrong, he just had some bad luck and people not loving him like they should. The mother was fucked up and at the end of her rope. All the puppies and kids and whatever that got eaten were a terrible tragedy. It’s pretty much shit all around.”

  Dahl ruffled her hair with rare tenderness, and it brought a lump to Jane’s throat. “Is that the theme for today? Shit all around?”

  Jane squeezed her eyes closed and, with a herculean effort, choked out three words. “I couldn’t help.” Jane felt like she was mouthing ground glass. “I tried to cure him, and it did nothing—fucking nothing! I didn’t even give him five more minutes!”

  “He’s sleeping, Jane.” Dahl’s eyes were soft. “I gave him more painkillers and he’s surrounded by people who care for him. It could be a lot worse.”

  “He’s dying! He’s going to suffer and die, and I should be able to stop it!”

  “Why?”

  “What?” Jane sniffed and stared at Dahl, searching for the hint of sarcasm.

  “Why should you be able to stop it?” His voice was probing but not unkind.

  “Because… it’s what I do. I heal people. Literally my magic power.”

  “You did your best.”

  “But I failed.”

  Dahl spoke each word with gravity, holding her gaze. “Magic can’t save everyone. It doesn’t fix every problem. Some things you will have to let go of, because your best isn’t always going to be enough, but I’m proud of you for trying.”

  Jane buried her face in her hands and waited. Crying didn’t come, just a stupid, useless numbness that wouldn’t budge. Dahl didn’t speak or leave, but he put an arm around her shoulders. Maybe he wasn’t a total asshole after all.

  “From the dense, noisy crowd of true believers, Jane searched for her equal.” Dahl’s voice took on a narrative tone as he read from her PDA.

  “Hey, jerk off, you’re reading my diary.” Jane rubbed her face with the palms of her hands.

  “I thought you said this was all cryptid stories.”

  “It is. I was typing out one of my own.”

  “Well then, I already know how it goes, so no need to get your panties in a twist about it.” He cleared his throat. “The revival stage was awash in floodlights, insects, and dust from adjacent fields of drying feed corn. Crowds clustered behind the rows of occupied foldout chairs, eyes shining with light and amazement in the smoky, warm night.”

  In the edge of Jane’s vision, the mirror flickered. Red desert one instant, normal hiding-in-the-bathroom scene the next. “Wait.” Jane stiffened, rubbing the grit from her eyes. “Keep reading.”

  Dahl glanced at her, his brow wrinkled, but he kept on. “Jane was late. Her Sunday shift at work ran over, and she’d rushed to arrive before the service, not wanting to miss anything. Two pork-and-slaw sandwiches from a folding table meant this trip wasn’t a total waste: a free meal was worth the gas money.” Dahl paused. “This isn’t bad. I mean, it’s not T. H. White, but you’ve captured a certain low-brow charm.”

  Jane’s hands were on the glass: normal, ordinary glass. Ian’s “Hello, Beautiful” message was still clear in the lower corner. What was happening? Had the thinning here disappeared? Why now? Jane spoke through a swell of anticipation. “Don’t let me stop you before you get to the part where the big-mouthed, arrogant mentor figure comes in.”

  Dahl gave a dry laugh. “I know you must have had a hard time coming up with a word that means both ‘enigmatic’ and ‘muscular.’” He ruffled her hair one more time. “Journaling is good. Charlemagne slept with a journal under his pillow. You’re in excellent company.”

  “Eileen had one too.” Jane shivered. “Well, hers was magical and read like a cry for help. Maybe she wished it into existence when she just couldn’t take it anymore, when she needed a way to cope with the crazy shitstorm that was going on around her, something to make the madness stop...” Jane’s voice trailed off. It really was just a mirror, now. Dahl read her story, and now it was a normal, ordinary mirror.

  “Well, I’m sure First Alert will eat yours up.” Dahl was patting down his pockets. “Posting online makes it easy to share your story. No gatekeepers. No publisher. A potentially huge audience. The internet heralds a new era for the written word.”

  Dahl went still, and they stared at each other in the hum of the incandescent light.

  “Well, fuckknuckles.” Jane breathed. “Eileen could have saved the world after all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Everest watched the best hope for reality gather at the round table. Ian and Jane sat with sleeping bundles and plates from the kitchen. Sister Mary and Blue came in together, chatting pleasantly about hot days in August. Blue veered off to give Everest a hug he managed to tolerate. Maybe drinking beer for breakfast helped. The flavor reminded him of lazy Sundays with friends, fiddle music, and laughter. Now he grasped the warm gold ring strung around his neck while he watched Ian vindictively chew forkfuls of scrambled eggs. End times.

  “What happened to your hand?” Everest noted multiple adhesive bandages and the oily scent of antibacterial cream as Blue pulled away.

  “Stupid mistake—I got myself with the tin snips. Hurts like crazy, but it’s not serious.” Blue relieved Jane of a sleeping baby, inhaling close to the infant’s head as her e
yes rolled.

  Everest nodded at her. “Getting your fix?”

  “God, I miss Zee. I can’t wait to go home.” She turned to Jane. “Thanks for letting me borrow Beth.”

  Jane grinned. “Anytime.”

  “How can you tell them apart?” Everest glanced from the fuzzy dark head in Blue’s arms to the fuzzy dark head in Ian’s arms.

  “Mom magic,” Jane said smugly.

  Everest narrowed his eyes.

  “When they were born I also put a dot of magic marker on Beth’s heel.” Jane relented. “I don’t use it anymore though, because Beth’s hair sticks up and all Ida does is sleep. So if the baby is awake and resembles a mad scientist, it’s Beth.”

  As... Dahl stood to address the room, Everest glanced at the door a second before he remembered that Megan and Zack would not be attending. Zack’s health had declined with disturbing speed over the last few days, and Megan wouldn’t leave his side. Everest should say something or do something, but he had no idea what. Dahl set Megan’s rainbow tape recorder on the table and pressed the button. It was odd to see him operating the device instead of her.

  “We have excellent news.” Dahl’s voice brimmed with excitement. “The tools we need to turn the tide and repair the barrier have been forged. Working with an established online community, we are creating a library of new, independently authored literary works posted on the world wide web. We believe this will replicate the effects that have been achieved in the past through historic advances of the written word: making literature available to more of the population and lowering the barrier of entry for the publication of new stories. This is a huge breakthrough.” Dahl beamed at Jane. “Well done.

  “We need to continue what Jane started with her journal. I plan to write my part of this story and post it alongside hers. The rest of us should as well.”

  “I will.” Everest found the last year running through his memory. It would be good to get it out, even if parts were difficult. Documenting the journey might bring some comfort, and preserving a record could safeguard against potential future loss. “I can write my part of it. You’ll have to show me what to do with it once I’m done.”

  Ian shook his head. “It’s not my gift, but I can mind the babies and Fitz to give the rest of you the time you need to finish your parts.”

  Blue tapped her fingers on the table. “Did you want me to do the story or keep working on Mr. Mirror?”

  “Can you manage both?” Dahl raised an eyebrow and hid a grin.

  “You’re impossible.” Blue laughed. “Can I write a novel and repair a golemantic portal to another reality? No, I can’t. Pick one.”

  “Then work on the mirror.” Dahl brushed a few crumbs from the tabletop. “The rest of us can manage the story.”

  “I’ll put down my part as well.” Sister Mary chimed in. “Let’s figure out the priority order and go from there.”

  Dahl nodded. “Agreed. The immediate challenge we face besides strengthening the barrier is the need to patch existing major holes. Right now we have one resolved and two open. The Traveler called the Child was loose in our reality and gating in extranatural monsters: the hounds.”

  “Freakhogs.” Sister Mary interjected.

  Dahl grinned. “Maybe someday when we’re bored we can submit paperwork for a name amendment. At any rate, that threat is resolved. The Child has been banished from this reality. Since Travelers cannot breach the barrier from outside reality of their own power, we can check one item off the crisis list.”

  Everest’s gaze darted to the name tag around his love’s neck. Dahl was still speaking. “...Card being held captive by an extranatural Traveler called the Crone and Jane’s multiple reality compromising links. We’ll have to find a way to manage both of these issues. I’m opening the table to suggestions.”

  Silence stretched out for a few heartbeats before Sister Mary broke it. “Rescuing Card seems like a good place to start. What do we know?”

  Dahl responded as he took a seat. “According to Zack, the Crone is an extranatural Traveler who enjoys interacting with our reality. Characters such as Baba Yaga, the Weird Sisters, Heckedy Peg, and Morgause are based on the Crone. Card sought her out on her home turf in an attempt to forge an alliance, since she saw the dissolution of the barrier as an inevitability. She has not returned. Prior to departing, Card gave Zack a message to deliver to us in the event of her disappearance: if she is being held captive outside of reality it will cause further damage to the barrier, and we should come to rescue her both for her benefit and to aid in our goals.”

  “Is that true?” Ian’s voice was low and relaxed—he’d settled into planning mode. “Do we know she’s still alive?”

  “We have been unable to either corroborate or disprove it.” Dahl’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Zack only has Card’s research about what a human presence beyond the borders of reality would do to the barrier. The information sent over from Sana Baba was truly grade A shit. Mordred must have wiped whatever documentation existed as part of his sabotage. As far as Card being alive, Zack maintains that if she isn’t, parts of her corpse could be used ritualistically to weaken the barrier, so it amounts to the same thing. We have to recover her or recover her remains. It’s worth acknowledging that our only source is suspiciously self-serving, but we don’t have another.”

  Everest closed his eyes. Allison Card, who stood by him and offered kindness on more occasions than he could count. Who brought him water and helped him sneak away when he couldn’t handle the crowd at the linking ceremony. The free-spirited girl who was always up for a stupid, novel adventure. The woman who came to his house to stroll around the garden and help his flowers bloom. Recover her or recover her remains. How did it all get so twisted?

  “How difficult would rescuing her be?” Sister Mary again. “What’s involved?”

  Dahl was absently arranging the pile of M&Ms on the table into an orderly row. “We would need to open a gateway to the red desert—the place between realities where the Crone resides. A team of at least two would have to go in, locate the Crone’s stronghold, liberate Card, and bring her back.”

  “Risks?” Sister Mary was nodding along.

  “We have limited experience in the red desert. Zack says navigation is intuitive, but we’ve never tried it.”

  “I can help.” Jane’s timid voice gathered momentum. “I saw my wolf in France. After learning more about extranatural travel, it seems reasonable he’s using it to get around—appear whenever I need him from wherever he is. I bet he could help us if I call him. You know, St. Herve used him as a guide dog, and we would kind of be doing the same thing.”

  “Good to know.” Sister Mary chimed in. “Jane, you should be on the team. Your immunity to extranatural dangers makes you an obvious choice.”

  “My what?”

  Sister Mary grinned with beatific warmth. “You know how you handled that extranatural book in the forest the first time we met and it didn’t contaminate your mind?”

  “Yeah.” Jane’s nose scrunched.

  “And you know how Father Gentle and I determined it would be safe for you to carry a conscious book after praying and meditating on it?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  Sister Mary continued, unperturbed. “And now we discover your third link is to an exorcist who founded an order dedicated to defending our reality from the extranatural; a saint who is honored by the title ‘Traveler?’”

  Jane chewed her lip.

  Sister Mary gestured in a there you go hand wave.

  Dahl picked up the conversation. “You bring up a good point. Another facet of this is extranatural exposure. Some people are more susceptible than others, and we don’t know why. Nosebleeds are the first symptom of overexposure. I used to get them with Mordred from time to time, even in this reality, and Everest and I have both been getting them from our experiments with the gate. The next symptom is vomiting blood, followed by internal dissolution and possibly your life force being torn from your b
ody to wander incorporeally, although we couldn’t verify that last bit. Zack was able to give us a formula for countering the effects: the civilizing forces from The Epic of Gilgamesh. Beer, bread, and sex.”

  “That’s why you and Ian were making home brew!” Blue chimed in.

  “And why I’m drinking it for breakfast.” Dahl looked pointedly at nothing.

  Blue nodded knowingly. “And I see you’re having toast this morning.”

  “Yes.” A very attractive flush started to creep from the edge of Dahl’s collar, along the back of his neck.

  “So you’ve been experiencing extranatural exposure symptoms. Then you asked me to watch Fitz, and this morning things are resolved?”

  Dahl cleared his throat. “They seem to be.”

  Ian chuckled and Blue raised an eyebrow. “I see you actually know a thing or two about multitasking.”

  Dahl cleared his throat, “Moving along…”

  “So I’m out.” Sister Mary chimed in. “But happy to run support.”

  Dahl nodded, shifting in his seat and looking anywhere in the room other than at Ian. “Ian and Jane? Are you, ah, capable of meeting the requirements for this mission?”

  “You bet,” Jane answered quickly and went bright red, but her grin didn’t dissolve. She glanced at Ian with a deep, intimate warmth.

  “Alright, so the team going will be myself, Everest, Ian, and Jane. Sister Mary and Megan will hold home base. Blue, you have your assignment—restore Mr. Mirror to working condition. Sister Mary, I need you to help me check the gear and run prep before we roll out, so plan on doing your writing after mission success. The rest of us depart tomorrow morning. Use today to rest, write, recover, and prepare. Beer’s in the plastic drum, bread’s on the counter, you know the rest. Dismissed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I had a dream you were here.” Everest mumbled the words against his shoulder as Dahl slowly wandered back to conciseness.

 

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