I frowned. Where had they even come from? Were they driving along with no headlights until they saw us?
“Mut,” Farida said nervously. I could see her hands tighten against the steering wheel, bleaching the skin across her knuckles. “You don’t think…?”
“I highly doubt—”
The other car swerved, turning sideways and stopping on the yellow line. It was partially blocking both lanes.
“Pull over,” Masika said lowly.
“But what if it’s Imani?”
“Pull over.”
“Who’s Imani?” I asked.
Masika shot me a look. “Shut up. Lay down. This is none of your concern.”
None of my concern? If there was someone out to get them, that was my concern as long as I had to be in a car with them! Heart hammering, I dug my phone out of my pocket. I could call the police if things got hairy.
Farida had eased the car over to the shoulder of the road. We all fell silent; I was almost too scared to breath. Time seemed to slow down as the driver-side door opened on the other car. A woman stepped out, caught in the beam of one of our headlights. Her coarse black hair lifted in the slight breeze. I couldn’t make out much other detail except that she had naturally tan skin and full, round cheeks.
“Any chance she’s looking for directions?”
Even Farida ignored my comment, instead getting out of the car and slamming the door. She approached the other woman, who called something out to her. I couldn’t hear what it was — the sound was muffled from being inside the car — but it must have been bad because Farida took an automatic step back. I got my window rolled down a crack just in time to hear Farida ask, “… know that?”
“Is she with you or not? And don’t bother lying.”
“How do you know her?” Farida demanded.
The other woman sighed and shook her head. She raised her hand, a gold band inlaid with a large, pearly jewel glittering on her wrist, and said, “I guess we do this the hard way.”
The air around her flared bright, roiling with colour, before dispersing to reveal—
“What the hell is that?” I squeaked. I glanced at Masika, but her expression was grim rather than disgusted or frightened.
Hissing beside the woman was another woman — sort of. Her upper-half was slender and grey-skinned, her face twisted in a menacing grimace. Nearly-black hair hung limply to her shoulders. She was naked, her sickly skin merging with glittering purple scales at the waist, the lower half of her body serpentine. Her tail ended in a nasty, scorpion-like stinger.
I was still trying to process the image when the serpent-woman lunged, slashing at Farida with clawed fingers. Farida narrowly avoided her, then raised both arms to block another strike. The creature suddenly shrieked in pain as Farida’s arms glowed red.
“That’s my girl,” Masika whispered.
Farida swung one burning arm in a wide arc. The snake-woman recoiled with a hiss, then dropped low and shot forward. Farida had to leap backward to avoid the creature’s slashing claws; as she did so, she kicked down with one foot, a burst of fire lighting the night a brilliant orange. It hit the snake-woman on the shoulder, sending her crashing to the ground with another ear-splitting cry of pain.
Farida landed in a crouch. It was barely a second before she had turned her attention to the other woman — the actual human being. She rushed toward her.
I expected to see a vicious battle unfold between the two of them. Magic was ancient, right? Anyone who wielded it was bound to be formidable.
But the other woman squealed and ducked around the side of her car, swinging the driver’s side door open and using it for cover.
“Coward! Tell me how — oof!”
The snake-woman had recovered and, apparently, slithered low across the ground until she was close enough to surge up and slam Farida in the stomach with her hefty tail. Farida flew backward, landing hard on her side and rolling over the rough asphalt for a few feet. The serpent lunged toward her again, stinger at the ready. Farida swung her arm out toward it in a weak arc, mustering a thin wall of flames. It was enough to make the creature hesitate; Farida rolled away and back onto her feet. With a battle cry, she charged forward, fists flying and streaks of fire following each punch. The snake-woman tried to weave and dodge between the strikes, but some of the flames caught her across the arm. As the monster shrieked in pain, Farida tried to dart around her to reach the strange woman who had summoned her, but the serpent recovered quickly enough to lash out with her stinger. Farida dove forward, rolling out of the way and sending another burst of flames roaring past the creature’s shoulder. The serpent-woman didn’t even flinch, but instead swung at Farida with her tail again, knocking Farida to the ground just as she was coming up from her roll. The tail slammed down again; Farida cried out in pain.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and started climbing into the front seat.
“What are you doing?” Masika snapped.
“I’m gonna run that thing over!”
Masika grabbed my hand as I reached for the keys in the ignition. “If you run over that she-drake, you will also be running over my granddaughter.”
A flash of light drew my attention back to the fight outside. What must have been an enormous burst of flames was fading, leaving the serpent on her back and Farida smoking, out-of-breath, but still rising to her feet.
“Who…” she gasped, turning to the strange woman cowering by the other car, “… are you?”
She didn’t answer. The serpent-woman had recovered, though she still smouldered, and was lunging at Farida again with a high-pitched scream of rage. Farida hastily swung her arm up, but only a thin wisp of flames appeared. The creature charged through it, colliding with her and knocking her to the ground.
“We could have done this the easy way,” said the woman as she emerged from her hiding place, apparently much braver now that her creature had the upper hand. She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against her car with a smirk.
Another burst of light filled the space, like a miniature sun had bloomed from Farida’s chest. There was the squawking cry of a bird — and then an enormous grey heron emerged from the light, wreathed in flames and smoke, towering protectively over Farida’s prone form. It spread its huge wings and beat them against the air, sending a wave of flames rolling over the serpent-woman. She screeched, then shot low to the ground, aiming for Farida between the bird’s webbed feet. The heron caught the creature by her neck with its massive beak. For a moment, I was near deafened by the squawking of the bird and shrieking of the monster.
Then, in a quick, sharp flare of light, she vanished from between the bird’s beak, the light fading to two red orbs growing steadily smaller.
“She’s getting away!” Farida rasped from the ground.
I unlocked the car door and rushed over to her.
“She’s g—” Farida broke off with a gasp, clutching at her side. She stared desperately after the woman’s retreating car.
“Maybe that’s for the best right now,” I said, trying to help her into a sitting position. When she flinched away and hissed air between her teeth, I decided maybe I was doing more harm than good and kept my hands to myself.
Masika had gotten out of the car, too, and now knelt beside her granddaughter. She brushed Farida’s braids away from her sweaty forehead and murmured, “You’ve done well. Now you must take care of yourself.”
Farida seemed to try to sigh, but winced again. She looked at the heron that still towered over her protectively. “Thank you, Bennu.”
The bird bowed its head before vanishing in a flash of light. The residual glow of the fat blue-green stone that hung from Farida’s beaded necklace matched the glow of her hands as she pressed them against her ribs. Her breathing steadied and deepened.
Once Farida had eased her wounds, I helped her back into the car. She sank gratefully into the front seat, closing her eyes and letting out an exhausted sigh. I stood by the open driver-side door, though I coul
dn’t help glancing nervously at the road. What if that woman came back? What if there were more people out there like her?
“What was she asking about?” Masika said.
“You.”
The old woman hummed thoughtfully.
“Who was she?” Farida asked.
“That’s what’s troubling — I have no idea. Nor do I understand how she is able to use the magic of a stone.”
“Well,” Farida sighed, sitting up wearily in her seat. “We’re not getting any answers here. And we still have Amber to worry about.” She glanced at me, her expression of exhausted defeat now tinged with something else. “I did promise to take you home.”
Without much more discussion, we all settled into the car and took off. This time, there was no singing along to the radio. I don’t think I was the only one nervously watching every vehicle that approached.
Chapter Four
It took a quarter of an hour to reach Fredericton. The highway was mostly unfamiliar after dark, but as we drew nearer, there were a few road signs I recognized as ones I had passed when my parents drove me up to help me move into my apartment. Everything looked strangely eerie and foreboding lit up by the glare of our headlights. I watched out the window, trying not to imagine monsters like the snake-woman lurking in the looming shadows of the woods.
Just on the outskirts of the city, a field of tall grass had been marred by some kind of long, black path. I didn’t remember seeing anything like that when I was with my parents. It was hard to get a good look at it from a distance while in a moving vehicle, but it looked almost like it had been burnt.
“That’s where we found you,” Farida said, gesturing out her window to the black-streaked field. “It’s lucky you landed all the way out here and not on a rooftop in the city somewhere. It made it a lot easier to get to you.”
Just the thought of waking up stranded on a roof made my stomach clench with anxiety. And had I been the cause of that big black mark?
Once we entered Fredericton and drew nearer to downtown, I started giving Farida directions. I had half-hoped we would be able to pass by the museum so I could see the aftermath firsthand, but it was on Queen Street, a one-way going the opposite direction from my apartment. Plus, the lane closest to the museum was closed and traffic was badly backed-up. It probably would have been a nightmare to drive by anyway — everyone seemed to forget basic traffic laws when they reached the heart of the city and a distraction like the museum was bound to make that worse. As it was, I still saw one car turn the wrong way onto Brunswick (another one-way) and nearly run over a pedestrian in the crosswalk.
Masika kept grumbling to herself and glancing warily out the windows the whole time we were downtown. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she wasn’t a fan of cities.
When we finally pulled up to the five-storey brick building, I had never felt more relieved. It was all I could do not to bolt from the car and run all the way up the stairs to the warm, comfy bed that awaited me in my fourth-floor apartment. But I exercised restraint and good manners.
“Thanks for… well, for looking after me, I guess.”
Masika grunted noncommittally.
“It’s no problem,” Farida said quietly.
Feeling suddenly awkward, I grabbed my backpack from the seat beside me and got out of the car. I was swinging my bag over my shoulder and walking toward the front door when I heard another car door open and shut. I glanced over my shoulder; Farida was hurrying toward me.
“Let me go in with you,” she said. “Just for a minute. I want to make sure everything’s okay.”
“You really don’t—”
“Farida!” Masika’s stern shout made both of us jump. She was leaning out the passenger side window and continued yelling, though I couldn’t understand a word she said.
Cheeks darkening with frustration (or maybe even embarrassment), Farida snapped back in the same unfamiliar language, then made a shooing motion with her hand. Still scowling, Masika settled back into her seat and rolled up her window.
With a sigh, Farida turned to me. “Okay, I’ll have to be quick. I can’t leave Masika by herself too long.”
“Why not?”
“Someone has to protect her.”
I frowned. Wasn’t Masika supposed to be some kind of powerful, ancient magician? But I didn’t want to press the issue. All I wanted was to go back to my apartment and leave all this magic and strangeness behind.
We entered the building and started up the stairs. A familiar, almost sour smell permeated the stairwell. Normally I hated it; the fact that I found it strangely welcoming was telling of how much I’d missed my apartment during my short, wild adventure.
At first, neither of us said anything, the only sound our footsteps echoing up through the stairwell. Then Farida spoke, her words hesitant.
“When that woman attacked us… that wasn’t normal. Any of it. The attack itself, her having a stone, her using a stone. None of that is normal.”
“What do you mean?” I panted. The major downside to this building was that the elevator was perpetually out of order. “I used a stone. I didn’t even know it was magic.”
“Right. And that’s a really big deal.”
I paused on the third-floor landing, and not just because I really needed to catch my breath. I stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense of what she was telling me, of what she wanted from me. “Why? Everyone used to use magic stones, right?”
“Yes, but things were different then. Magic was constantly pouring into this world through the rifts. People had enough exposure to the magic in their environment that it became part of them. But without that magic, you can’t use the stones. Not for a long time.”
“Then why can you use them?”
She sighed, suddenly frustrated. “I grew up with the stones. I was raised to use them. I’ve carried this”—she held up the blue-green pendant of her necklace—“since I was seven. Years of exposure to the magic emanating from this stone gave me my own magic. But there’s no way that woman could have had the same exposure and, even if she did, there’s no way she would have the training to safely and effectively use magic like she did. And there’s no way you could have been exposed like that, either.”
I turned and continued up the last flight of stairs. “I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t understand any of this.”
“I don’t expect you to have an answer. I just—” There was a pause, heavy footfalls, and then she was passing me on the stairs and stopping just above me, effectively blocking my path. My height was barely more than five feet and she was tall for a woman, so standing even one step above me made her towering and imposing. “I just need you to understand that this is special. You are special. And that could make a huge difference to Masika and me if you helped us.”
“I already told you, I’m not interested.”
“You don’t understand how—”
“Exactly! I. Don’t. Under. Stand. Now could you please let me go home?”
For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t move. She stared down at me with steely resolve, jaw squared, dark eyes fiery. But then the flame sputtered. Her shoulders sagged. And she stepped aside with a soft, defeated sigh. “Fine. I get it. Go live your life.”
I hurried past her to my floor and the short way down the hall to my apartment door. I didn’t check if she’d followed. I didn’t check if she had left. I was focused only on getting home and eating and sleeping—
Until I saw the bright yellow police tape.
“What the—?” I cautiously moved closer, footsteps muffled in the carpeted hallway. I double-checked the number on the door — 44. Easy to remember because it was the same as my parents’ street address. So it was definitely my apartment. But… why?
I slid off my backpack and dug my key out from the side pocket, then unlocked the door and ducked under the police tape to step inside. I eased the door shut, wincing at the loud click of it locking automatically. I was, quite literally, walking
into a crime scene. The less attention I drew to myself, the better.
When I flicked my light on, it took all of my willpower not to gasp or swear loudly.
My tiny bachelor apartment hadn’t exactly been ransacked, but it had definitely been searched. Drawers were open. My laptop was gone, along with the books I’d borrowed from the campus library for preliminary research. Pictures were missing off the walls. Had I been robbed? I tiptoed across the room to my captain’s bed and knelt to check the first drawer. It, like the other two drawers that ran along the bottom of my bed, had been opened. But the tin of money tucked in behind my pile of socks (now toppled) appeared untouched.
If it was a robbery, why hadn’t they taken my emergency money? They had obviously had time to search the place, but what they had and hadn’t taken was inconsistent: They grabbed my laptop, but no other electronics; they took textbooks, but not cash. And why would anyone want my library books?
A strange dread was crawling over me. I moved to sit on the bed and dug through the side pocket of my backpack once more, this time pulling out my phone. I had more texts and missed calls. Rather than checking them, I opened up a browser and started Googling the museum. Sure enough, it was the focus of numerous headlines.
Terrorist Attack: Speculation on the Explosion at Friedman Museum
Fact or Photoshop? What Social Media Claims Happened at Friedman
“We’re just trying to put together the pieces.” Aftermath of Unforeseen Destruction
I felt like I had just swallowed ice. I skimmed through each article, too panicked to focus and properly read them. My name appeared in the first and third articles, just as quick mentions that I was missing and police were looking for any clues that might be available about my location.
Oh, God. No wonder everyone had sounded so worried in their messages.
She Who Rises Page 3