Air of Darkness

by Rose O'Brien

  Reaching in one of the cabinets that lined the wall, she tossed Alex two eight-round Airsoft paintball pistols. He pulled a tactical rig off the wall and buckled it around his waist, holstering the two pistols. A sheathed Ka-bar knife was added to the belt and he tied a retractable riot club to his left hip.

  Smart, she thought. He’s covering all his bases.

  Dumeril pulled two dull machetes used for training off one of the racks. Dull was a relative term, though. While the blades wouldn’t be able to take Alex’s arm completely off, they’d deal some pretty deep flesh wounds if he let the Svarturan get too close.

  A tiny shiver of fear for Alex tried to crawl up her spine, but she pushed it down. He was a big boy; he could take care of himself. Scratch that, he was a man. A grown-ass, well-trained man who had lived through a war. He didn’t need her protection. She had to take the net out from under him sometime.

  Across the mat, Lu let out a soft groan. She’d removed her T-shirt and stood in a black sports bra and a pair of stretchy yoga pants. Her shoulders hunched, and she bent at the waist. Alex looked over, his eyes going wide, his expression becoming concerned.

  There were rippling movements beneath her skin that signaled the change. Muscles that hadn’t been there a second ago bulged. Her arms grew longer, the fingers stretching until they ended in lethal looking claws. Her jaw dropped open a little and longer teeth began to protrude from her gums, leaving bloody streaks against the ivory color.

  Snapping, popping sounds filled the air and one after the other, her legs bent backwards at the knee, creating reverse articulated joints.

  Lu’s breath was coming heavy, tiny whimpers and cries escaping as her body morphed into something out of a horror movie. Alex looked like he was about to be sick. He was frozen in place, his arm extended slightly toward Lu as if to help, but unsure how to do that. He needed to see this.

  “It’s hurting her,” Alex whispered to Alayna.

  “Change always hurts,” she replied. “She’s moving a lot of bone, muscle, tendon and ligament to create that shape. Shifters learn to deal with the pain, but it’s always there.”

  Lu moved to a bench along the wall and wrapped overly long fingers around a bottle of orange sludge that she emptied into her fanged jaws.

  “Liquid energy,” Dumeril said, pointing to the bottle. “When shifters change, they’re still subject to physics, including conservation of mass and energy. When she gets big, she burns a lot of energy and needs to refuel. When she gets small and sheds mass, she gives off a wave of heat when the excess energy is dispersed.”

  Alex looked at Lu’s new, monstrous form and said, “That is so cool!”

  He moved closer to her. She stood over seven feet tall now, heavy muscle bulging in her arms and legs. The bristling dark hair that covered her skin gave her some protection, but also made her a shoo-in for a blockbuster horror movie. The eyes that moved in her elongated face were still Lu’s; that hadn’t changed.

  Alex moved toward her slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal.

  “I’m still me, Alex,” she said, her voice about five octaves deeper. “I won’t bite.”

  “Yes you will,” Alayna said. “This might be a training session, but I don’t want you to hold back with him. We need to know if he can handle himself in the field. I mean, don’t rip his throat out or anything, ‘cause that’s just messy, but don’t pull your punches.”

  Lu nodded and took up a position at one end of the mat. Dumeril moved opposite her and spun the handle of the machete in his right hand. Burdock stood back, popping his knuckles. Alayna took up a position on the edge of the mat between Dumeril and Lu, drawing her whip from her boot.

  From her belt, she drew a small, thin object about a foot long, with a glossy black finish. She grasped an edge with her left hand and flicked her wrist, opening a vicious bladed fan.

  Most mages chose weapons that corresponded to their element. Fire mages seemed to be the only ones who liked firearms. Earth mages loved their swords and staffs. Even though as a Whisperer she could control all of the elements with her voice, she was still an air mage at heart and preferred her fans and her whip. They were true weapons of the air and it took less effort to channel and direct her powers through them.

  With a whispered word, a sinuous black length about the width of her thumb emerged from the whip and coiled on the edge of the mat. She gestured to Alex with the handle, indicating that he should stand in the middle of the mat.

  Something bad was coming, and it was time to see if Alex could handle himself in the field. She gave the signal to Dumeril to begin.

  ***

  A nutcracker. That’s what they’d called it back in hand-to-hand class during his Army basic training. One guy surrounded by three or four opponents who attack first one at a time and then all together.

  Dumeril moved first, swiping the machete in his right hand upwards at Alex’s chest. Alex snatched up the riot club with his left hand and blocked the swing, drawing the K-bar in a smooth motion with his right hand and bringing it in a back handed slash, the dull edge of the knife laid back against his forearm. He aimed the blade for Dumeril’s ribs, but the Svarturan was too fast, dancing backward easily.

  They moved like that for several minutes, dancing, dodging, spinning, diving, and deflecting. Dumeril landed a couple of lucky swipes across Alex’s bare forearms, drawing thin ribbons of blood that made his grip on the riot club slippery.

  Dumeril aimed a cross swipe at his head and Alex threw himself backward, turning the move into a backward roll. As he rolled, he dropped the K-bar and the riot club. He drew the Airsoft and came out of the roll on one knee, both hands on the paintball gun.

  Dumeril managed to deflect one of the pellets with the flat of the machete, splattering it on the floor a few feet away. Two others landed solidly in the center of Dumeril’s chest, orange paint speckling the ink-black skin of his face.

  “Nice,” Dumeril said, moving off the mat and setting the machetes on the floor.

  “My turn.”

  Burdock’s voice was right behind him. As Alex spun, he barely dodged the punch that went flying by his left ear.

  The mage caught him under the ribs with a solid uppercut. Alex’s breath whooshed out of his lungs and he back peddled as quickly he could to get some space to catch his breath. But Burdock was on him before he could blink, landing a punch to his temple that had him seeing stars. He stumbled and went down on one knee.

  Alex had known the confrontation with Burdock was coming, he just hadn’t expected it this soon. The guy didn’t like him and had made that pretty damn clear. This was a dominance game. He’d seen it play out hundreds of times.

  The mage pressed his advantage, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and hauling him up. As his fist drew back to land a punishing blow to Alex’s face, flames erupted up his arm. Burdock had not come to play, and if that blow landed, it was lights out for Alex, maybe even permanently.

  For a split second, he caught sight of Alayna. Her eyes were wide with fear. For him? She looked like she wanted to jump in the middle of this, but he sent a silent thank you that she hadn’t. This had to play out.

  Fortunately for him, Burdock had underestimated him. If Burdock was going to bring a flamethrower to a fist fight, he was going to pull out his own bag of dirty tricks. Alex felt his opponent’s weight shift to deliver the blow and he made his move, delivering a punch of his own. To the inside of Burdock’s knee.

  The leg buckled as the mage grunted in pain. Alex didn’t give him any opportunity to counter, delivering a series of body blows to that knocked Burdock on his back. Alex moved to pin him and they came face to face on the mat, each struggling for a better position.

  “You don’t belong here, sape,” Burdock ground out between gritted teeth.

  “Not gonna argue with that.”

  Alex landed a punch to his ribs and earned a strangled grunt.

  “We solve this case and I’m gone. Until then, just ignore me,
like you do everything that isn’t work.”

  Burdock didn’t reply, just bared his teeth. The spot where the mage gripped Alex’s arm suddenly flared with white hot pain. Out of reflex, he launched himself backwards. Burdock raised a hand that danced with blue flames. Alex looked down to see the skin of his arm was red and blistered.

  When he looked up, Burdock was already on his feet and winding up a fireball. On his knees, there was no way Alex could get out of the way in time. This was going to hurt. He closed his eyes and turned his face from the impact.

  Only there was no impact. When he looked up, he saw Burdock’s eyes were wide and his jaw was hanging slightly open. So was everyone else’s.

  Alayna’s voice split the silence, “Break it up!”

  When she shoved Burdock off the mat, he didn’t resist.

  “What happened?” Alex asked as he climbed to his feet.

  “That fireball just…dissipated. I’ve never seen anything like that.” Her voice was quiet.

  She fell silent and turned away, her hand covering her mouth, which meant she was thinking. When her gaze landed on Burdock, her eyes narrowed in a look that said he’d done fucked up.

  Dumeril chimed in, “Do you think this has to do with him being a lìthseach?”

  “I’d say that’s a damn good bet,” she said.

  Alayna turned, that bladed black fan shimmering in her grasp. With a flick of her fan and handful of whispered words, Alex felt a pressure change headed his way. A gentle breeze brushed his face and ruffled the hem of his T-shirt, but behind him, a rack of weapons went flying, and a bench overturned from what looked like a gale-force gust.

  Alex looked back to Alayna to see her jaw hanging open slightly. He stood still as she flicked her fan again, repeating the whispered words. She must have been using the fan to direct her magick.

  This time, he heard a howling wind that threatened to tear him off his feet, but just as before it seemed to go around him only to toss equipment around behind him like leaves in a storm.

  “You should have been tossed head over heels from those gusts, but they went around you...”

  Over the next few minutes, Alayna threw gusts of wind, pulled water from a nearby barrel and launched it at him like a water cannon, blasted tongues of flame in his direction. All of them failed to reach him. They seemed to flow around him like he was a rock in a stream.

  None of them had ever seen anything like it.

  “I’ve seen mages and elves and fey that can throw up magickal shields to protect themselves, but they’re usually visible, and they require a lot of effort to maintain. You’re not doing that.”

  She continued forward until her hand rested against his chest.

  “And I would be able to feel it if it were a shield.”

  “It’s passive, Commander,” Dumeril added.

  Alayna stilled for a moment, thinking.

  “Experiment,” she said, keeping her hand on Alex’s chest. She flicked her fan again, but this time, the gust of wind was weak, barely stirring the dust on the floor. She moved her hand to his forearm, her delicate fingers warm against his skin. When she flicked her fan, the gust was barely perceptible, no more than a whisper of air.

  She stepped away and aimed a full-force blast across the warehouse, bouncing a weapons rack off the wall and causing one of the heavy punching bags to sway on its chains.

  “My magick doesn’t affect you and contact, particularly skin-to-skin, affects my ability to weave a spell,” she said. “Remarkable.”

  She moved away from him, appearing to be lost in thought. Without looking back, she flicked the whip out, hooking it around his ankle and pulling him onto his back with a thud. The sound of Lu’s laughter filled his ears and he could feel his face turning red.

  “Don’t let your guard down, ever,” she said. “You might have some resistance to magick, but it’s spotty. Burdock managed to burn you. And weapons can still hurt you.”

  “That round goes to you then,” Alex said, climbing to his feet and moving a little slower than he liked.

  The small injuries he’d picked up so far were starting to add up. The burn on his arm was really starting to hurt, but he wasn’t done yet. He turned to Lu and raised his hand, palm up, flicking his fingers in a “bring it on” gesture. The hulking shifter obliged and charged across the mat toward him. He lowered his stance, crouching down to distribute the force of her charge.

  As she closed, he grasped her forearms, shifted his weight back, and placed his foot squarely in the middle of her chest. Alex let himself fall backwards and used Lu’s momentum to carry her up and over him. He extended his leg at just the right moment and sent Lu thudding to the mat behind him.

  “Commander?” Lu’s voice sounded odd. Alex pulled himself into a crouch.

  Both of Lu’s arms had quickly shrunk to their default, human-looking size.

  “I don’t believe it,” Alayna said, rushing to Lu’s side. “You made her shift back.”

  Alayna’s eyes were wide as she turned to look at him. Lu stared at him, and he saw something he never thought he’d see in the eyes of a woman that could change into any number of nightmares: fear.

  “Does it hurt?” Alayna asked Lu.

  “No. It just kinda tingles,” she said, hugging her arms to herself and rubbing her hands over her upper arms.

  “Can you stand for him to touch you again? I’d like to see what we can learn about this,” Alayna said.

  Lu nodded and Alex moved toward her. He gently touched her face and almost recoiled as he felt the muscle and bone shift under his fingers. The teeth retracted back into her gums and, soon, it was the same old Lu sitting in front of him, her monstrous body melting back into its original shape.

  He felt a wave of warmth wash over him as her extra mass was converted to energy and dispelled.

  “Goodness gracious,” Alayna said, to no one in particular. She turned and looked at Alex. “What am I going to do with you?”

  ***

  Alex emerged from the shower and moved slowly to his locker, aching muscles screaming. Alayna had continued to put him through a grueling hand-to-hand workout, with Dumeril as backup. She’d sent an uneasy Lu to help Burdock prep the weapons and equipment. Alayna was betting that Ellie’s search would turn something up by sundown, and they were going hunting.

  They’d tried a few more magickal assaults, but she’d quickly called a halt when even Dumeril’s most complex illusion had failed to confuse him. She was concerned about the magickal energy that was being thrown his way. They had no idea if he was dispelling it or—and this was a horrifying thought—soaking it up.

  As he was pulling on a pair of his old desert camo pants, he noticed bruises beginning to form on his legs. How much longer could he keep up with these people? Magick might slide off him, but Alayna’s kicks and Burdock’s punches hadn’t.

  The fire mage probably still didn’t like him, but from looks that had passed between them after that sparing session, there was at least a grudging respect there. They could work together. For as long as it took to solve the case, anyway.

  He heard a knock at the door and Alayna’s voice call, “You decent?”

  “I haven’t been decent for years,” he answered, “but I have clothes on.”

  She came around the small bank of lockers and paused when she saw he didn’t have a shirt on, her eyes going to the floor. He thought he might have detected the slightest hint of a blush on her pale cheeks.

  “That was a rough workout,” she said to the floor tiles. “I just came to check on you.”

  “I’ve got some pretty impressive bruises, but I’ll live,” he said, slipping a sock on his left foot.

  “You should see Dumeril,” she said. “You got several good swipes in with that Ka-bar. He’s knitting his skin back together as we speak.”

  “Think he could do mine next?” Alex held up the cuts that had barely scabbed over.

  She moved to the end of the bank of lockers behind him and lea
ned her shoulder against it, looking uncomfortable.

  “Those are some nasty scratches on your back,” she said.

  “Yeah, Lu tagged me with those claws just before she shifted back. They’re not deep, though.”

  “That was a really cool move, by the way,” she said. “I mean, the circle throw, not the whole making her change back thing—”

  He shifted on the bench suddenly, turning to look back at her.

  “You’re nervous. Why are you nervous?” he asked, staring at her face until she met his eyes.

  “I’ve never dealt with anything like this before,” she said finally.

  Was she talking about his abilities...or him?

  “And you think I have?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You’ve pulled me down the damned rabbit hole, Alayna. You’re telling me I’m some sort of magickal anomaly and we’re hunting what looks like a vampire serial killer. I almost got flame punched by a dude straight out of a comic book, and you introduced me to a dragon last night. And you’re the one that’s freaked out?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, moving to sit next to him on the bench, facing in the opposite direction.

  She touched the scratches on his bare back, and he hissed in pain.

  “I wonder if I could heal those...”

  He didn’t say anything but took a deep breath and closed his eyes as she placed her palm flat against the wounds, her fingers curling slightly over the top of his shoulder. He tried to focus on how good it felt for her to touch him. She was close now and her scent filled his nose, honeysuckle and mint from her shampoo, and under that was the scent of the air just after a thunderstorm.

  Her whispered words were soft, each syllable connected to the next until they sounded like a gently flowing stream. The room fell away around him, her words filled him, his muscles relaxed, and there was only the two of them.

  The softness of her hair brushed his skin as she laid her head against his bicep and her arm went around his bare waist. She was a warm counterpoint to the cold, soothing feeling where her hand touched his wounded shoulder. His left arm went around her back and settled on her waist. He buried his face in her soft curls, breathing deeply. Alex wasn’t sure the last time he’d felt this relaxed with someone, this close. It was almost intimate. There was just their breathing and their heartbeats. He had the urge to pull her into his lap and kiss her senseless, but he was afraid to break this tenuous, floating moment between them.