by Rob Cornell
There was no sign of Wendy's mom. No sign of any of the witches.
I stepped through the doorway, looked to my left, and saw the altar with the candles arranged around the small skull and the crystal jar with my glowing green soul inside. A strange feeling filled my chest, light and airy, as if seeing an old friend for the first time in a long, long while. I smirked. Maybe this would go easier than I had thought. Grab Odi. Grab my soul. Get the fuck out.
Odi hung limp from his chains, his head bowed. I couldn't tell if he was conscious from where I stood. I crossed the room, stepping around strewn debris—a couple table legs, a broken chair, a collapsed table. The sickly-sweet smell of the burning candles filled the room, while a damp muddy flavor hung in the air. The sound of dripping water came from somewhere beyond the room, echoing in the white painted cinder block hallways.
“Odi,” I said softly. “Wake up.”
He groaned, slowly raised his head. His face was a mess of scars, and while I couldn't see through to his bone like I had before, like the scars on his chest, these would take time to heal.
“I'd ask if you're okay,” I said. “But you look like shit.”
He managed to smile. “Too soon, dude.”
“Let's get you the hell out of here.”
I reached up and gripped both chains, one in either hand, and drew upon the heat within me and what little there was in the room. I focused that heat into the chains. My hands began to glow hot orange like the end of an iron fresh from the fire. After a moment, I felt the chains in my grip soften, then finally give way as the links melted.
Odi fell to his knees. He instinctively drew his arms in against himself, and the silver shackles still around his wrists burned against his naked chest. He cried out, voice reverberating in the corners.
I winced, worried the sound would draw the witches.
“We don't have a lot of time, buddy.” I grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet.
He swooned, but I wrapped my arm around the back of his shoulders and held him steady.
Odi rolled his gaze over toward the altar. “Your soul…”
“That's our next stop.”
Together we shuffled over toward the altar. The closer I got, the more I could feel it pull at me like a spectral magnet. But before we made it, I heard the soft whisper of several barefoot steps.
All of the remaining Maidens of Shadow filed into the room, shoeless and dressed in robes.
I felt the fire of my rage ignite within me, and all the hate that I thought I had let go—that I had accepted—came rushing back, filling every inch of me.
Wendy's mom was up front, and she sneered. “I knew I had sensed something earlier. Somehow you tracked us, despite our best efforts. Please, tell me how?”
“Easy,” I said. “Part of me was already here.”
She laughed. “Brilliant. That just makes it easier for us.”
I looked at the motley crew before me and curled up one corner of my mouth. “I count only six of you left. Shame about Kimber.”
Wendy's mother bared her teeth and hissed at me like a wild animal. “And I should skin you for that,” she said. “Kimber was like a daughter to me. I took her in, gave her the love and care that she needed, and you murdered her, too.”
“You shouldn't have sent her after me.”
“I'll kill you,” she shrieked. She jerked toward me.
The mother with the freckles like her twin daughters reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “You can't. His soul is no good to us if he's dead.”
“Ah, what a good point,” I said.
Wendy's mother curled her lip. “That doesn't mean I can't hurt him very, very badly.”
I glanced toward the altar, to the crystal jar with my soul inside, and made a move for it.
Wendy's mom hissed again and thrust out a clawed hand toward me. There were a dozen feet between us, but that didn't matter. She wasn't trying to reach me with her hand.
When I saw the green glow of my soul flare in the jar, I knew I was in trouble.
I flew off my feet, sailing backwards, until I hit the far wall. A lance of pain cut up my spine as I bounced off. I landed on the cold tiles, the smell of ancient dust pluming into my nose. I pushed myself up to my knees and drew on my fire. Blue flame engulfed my right hand, making the air around it ripple with heat, and adding more wavering light like the candles.
The twins stepped forward, both of them holding up their hands, palms toward me. “No,” they said in unison.
My soul on the altar flared again. Then a gut-twisting force wrenched its way through my body, filling me with nausea, and temporarily cutting me off from my power.
My flame died.
Before I had a chance to recover, Wendy's mother swung her hand through the air as if to backhand me, and I felt the impact crash into my face ten times harder than she probably could have with her actual hand.
I twisted around and fell onto my side.
Wendy's mom didn't stop there. She threw her hands up, and I flew up at the same time, crashing through the tiles of the drop ceiling and slamming into the metal rafters. Then gravity took over and dropped me to the floor again. Knots of pain twisted in all parts of my body. I tried to push myself up, but every part of me that hurt cried out against the effort.
Then I heard the crackling fire.
I looked up, and there was Odi standing with both arms out, his hands on fire, his face a determined mask. His eyes glowed red, and he peeled his lips back to show his fangs. “Come get some, bitches,” he growled. He threw a pair of fireballs at the gathered witches. Their orange light flashed through the shadowed room.
Wendy's mom held up a hand, palm out like a traffic cop. Once again my soul flared in its glass prison. I saw a clear ripple in front of the witch like a wall of water. Odi's fire hit the barrier and winked out with a steamy hiss.
She lowered her hand, shook her head, and tsked. “The little vampire wants to play.”
The pair of orange-haired twins giggled. They held hands, bared their teeth, and stared hard at Odi.
My soul throbbed in the jar.
The flesh on his bare chest peeled away as if there were a zipper down the middle, exposing his muscle and sinew. He screamed and staggered backward, his skin flapping on either side of his torso like an open jacket. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the floor.
Their power was immense. Somehow they had worked out a way to draw upon my soul—no ritual necessary.
It was six of them against a beat-to-hell me and an unconscious Odi. We didn't stand a chance.
Wendy's mom walked toward me and stopped with her bare toes only a few inches away from my face. She crouched down and looked me in the eye. “This ends now.”
I clenched my teeth and snarled. “You killed my mother, you cunt. You'll have to kill me, too, if you want to stop me.”
She shook her head. Then she sighed. Without bothering to reply, she stood straight and strolled back over to her coven.
I pushed magic through my body to dull my pain. Then I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. I glared at the witches. “I will kill every last one of you.”
Like an audience watching a stand-up routine, all six of them laughed at me.
I struggled to my feet, held out my hands, and drew again on my fire.
Wendy's mother shook her head and sighed. “Haven't you learned by now?”
“Yeah,” said one of the twins.
“You belong to us now,” said the other.
“Never.” I threw my fire.
Wendy waved a hand, and that rippling water-like barrier formed in front of her. Both of my bolts of blue fire struck it, sending glistening ripples through the air. And as if it were real water, my flames instantly winked out.
Wendy forked her fingers and pointed them at me.
All of a sudden my throat closed. It felt like a vice squeezing my windpipe. I choked and clawed at my throat as if getting force-choked by Darth Vader.
The last thing I saw before I passed out was the bright glow of my soul in the crystal jar.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I woke up with a headache, a sore throat, and my hands handcuffed to a rusty old bed frame. The mattress I was on might as well been a single sheet of cardboard, and it reeked as if twenty years of sweat had soaked into it.
The maidens had moved me. Now we were in a smaller room. Judging from the couple of beds, probably what used to be a room for patients. All but one of the Maidens—the twins' mother— were in the room with me, and every single one of them was naked.
Figures the one time I find myself chained up in a room full of naked women, they only wanted to use me for my soul.
Like the rec room, the Maidens had this one lit up with dozens of candles. They had drawn a pentagram inside a circle on the floor in the middle of the room, painted in red. But I knew it wasn't paint. For a second, I wondered whose blood it was, then pushed the thought away. I didn't want to know.
I tested the cuffs, clanking them against the bed frame, but they held fast.
Wendy's mother turned around, the noise drawing her attention. When she saw I was awake, she smiled, but there was no humor in it, and it didn't reach anywhere near her eyes.
“The guest of honor awakens.”
I grunted. “Go fuck yourself.”
“That's the best comeback you have?”
“It's the only comeback you deserve,” I said with a sneer.
I looked past her at the other four witches. Three of them had started placing more candles around the edge of their circle. The fourth padded out of the room.
I nodded in her direction. “Where's she going?”
“You'll see,” she said. “Rest easy. We'll get started soon enough.”
Yeah right. They could go ahead and get started without me. Did she really think these handcuffs could hold me? I drew on my magic and pushed heat into my hands. If I could melt a couple chains to free Odi, I could burn through handcuffs no problem.
As if she was reading my mind, or could sense my building magic, Wendy's mom folded her arms across her naked breasts and lifted one eyebrow. “Do you want us to shove a wooden stake through your apprentice's heart? I need only give the command.”
I clenched my hot hands into fists. They shook enough to rattle the cuffs against the bed frame. All I wanted to do was break free, conjure up a nice big blue ball of flame, and throw it right in her face. But if she could have Odi killed with a word, I had to think of another plan.
I let the heat leak out of my hands.
“Tell me something,” I said. “I know you're Wendy's mom, but I don't know your name.”
“Flora,” she said. “Flora Schippers.”
“Good. I like to know the names of the people I kill.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So much anger.”
“Yeah, and you'll get a taste of it real soon.”
“I don't think so,” she said before she turned away from me and strode out of the room.
Forced to just lay there and watch the witches work, I tried to think of a way to get out of this. Nothing good was coming. If I used my magic, they would kill Odi. The cuffs were tight, and I was no Houdini. There was no cavalry coming, no miracles I was owed, just a whole bunch of bad luck.
The older witch who had left when I woke up came back into the room, carrying the crystal jar that held my soul. She carried it in both hands and walked carefully, as if she were afraid to drop it. I guess I was a little glad for that. The last thing I wanted was for them to drop my soul on this dirty floor.
I watched helplessly as she carried it over to the pentagram and set it directly in the center. It continued to glow with the soft green light, and I couldn't help but be reminded of Mom's magic, of the pure green energy that she could conjure. The only thing that bested the strength of her magical energy was her internal strength. And right now, boy did I miss that strength. I could only hope I had inherited some of it to get me through whatever the Maidens had planned.
Once my soul was set down in its jar, the witch that had brought it in backed away, tilted her head, and gave it an admiring look, eyes transfixed.
I looked into the jar myself and felt a powerful tug. Even if I had never seen it before, I would've known it was mine. It seemed there was a part of me still attached to it. It didn't matter that it was no longer inside of me.
Shortly after, Flora came into the room again. She carried something rolled up in a towel against her chest. The rolled towel was about three feet long. She carried it over to me with a hint of a smile on her face and a flashing in her eyes.
I didn't like that look one bit.
When she reached my bedside, she crouched down so that our eyes were even. She held up the towel. “Try to guess what's in here.”
“I'm not in the mood for games.”
“You'd never guess anyway,” she said. Then she proceeded to unwrap the item, and when it rolled out of the towel into her hand, I gasped. A cold chill turned my skin to gooseflesh.
She gripped the shaft of the Brand of Gelding—the brand that had saved me from turning.
The sight of it turned a worm in my gut.
Flora's eyes flashed again. Her smile grew wide, until she was showing bright, clean teeth.
I remembered the feel of the brand burning against my shoulder, how it cut me off from part of my power, and how helpless I had felt when I didn't have access to that power when I'd seriously needed it.
“So you're the one who bought that from Danesh.” I jerked at my chains futilely. “What the hell are you planning to do with that?”
“We're going to use it the way it was meant to be used,” she said, voice filled with venom. “And we’ll make sure to pluck your teeth out, so we don't have to worry about our pet biting us.”
I yanked again at my cuffs, but it didn't do any good; it only made me look weak. I could see in Flora's eyes that she thought so.
I would definitely have to prove her wrong.
“I am not your pet,” I said.
She pointed the business end of the brand at my face and waved it back and forth. “You will be.”
Before I could say anything else, she stood straight and sauntered over to her friends. The five of them huddled together in a ring, shoulder to shoulder. They looked like a gossip circle, and whispered among themselves like one, too. On the floor, encircled by their bare feet, my soul continued to glow a light green.
Flora held the brand casually at her side as she spoke with her coven.
I wondered where the sixth witch was, and figured she was with Odi, waiting for the command to stake him if I didn't play along.
Damn it! I couldn't let them cut me off from my magic. Not only would that leave me powerless, but the Maidens would still retain access to my magic through my soul. With that kind of power at their disposal, and no way for me to stop them, who knew what they would be capable of? And if they were still on the Ministry's dime, who knew what they would use that power for?
I realized I had a choice. I could let them do this to me and give myself over as their helpless weapon. Or I could break free now and sacrifice Odi's life to end their plan, whatever it was. I couldn't see myself selling out Odi like that, but I had to wonder if it was also my responsibility to do so.
I'd seen the Ministry flex their muscles using the Maidens’ power before, and they'd wiped out, in a single blow, the Detroit Ministry's leadership. This time, they could do something even worse—like finish their first mission and turn the poor neighborhoods into a feeding ground for the vampires. Or why bother using the vampires this time? Just cast a spell to kill thousands with a single ritual.
I didn't like that train of thought one bit. To think that I could be used as a tool in mass murder.
Then I realized I had more than just two choices. There was a third. Instead of sacrificing O
di, I could sacrifice myself.
“Hey,” I shouted.
The witches all turned their attention toward me. Flora had an impatient look on her face. I guess she was tired of her pet talking back.
“I have an idea,” I said. “How about, when you're done with your ritual, I just kill myself? My soul wouldn't be very useful then, would it?”
Flora narrowed her eyes. The other witches muttered among themselves with a slight bit of panic. Which kind of made my day. In my current situation, it didn't take much.
Slowly, Flora came over to me. For some reason, I noticed again that she was naked, as if I hadn't already known that. It struck me how menacing she looked, even without her clothes. In fact, she probably looked even more menacing skyclad than she would dressed in leather and chains.
She still held the brand at her side, swinging it absently. She didn't come all the way over. Almost as if she was afraid I might actually try something despite her threats against Odi.
She studied me for a moment, trying to figure me out, trying to tell if I was bluffing. I decided to give her a little help.
“I am dead serious.”
“I think you just might be.” She raised the brand and studied the length of it as if she found it unbearably interesting. “Of course, there are people in this world you care about. People you wouldn't want me to torture for weeks on end. Someone like, say… Sylvester Petrie.”
I pulled so hard against my cuffs I felt them scrape off some skin. “Don't you dare.”
“It's sad, really. The young ones seem to admire your alchemist friend. A waste of affection if you ask me. But here we are, you putting me in the unenviable position of having to murder someone the girls see as, maybe not a friend, but someone they respect.”
“Nobody's forcing you to do anything.”
“Let's just settle this issue now,” she said. “I promise you, if you bring yourself to any harm, I will make sure that Sylvester suffers for a very, very long time.”
I clenched my teeth so hard I felt like I could break my jaw. All that calm and acceptance shit Urvasi had taught me went right out the fucking window. I was one hundred percent fueled by rage, and if not for Odi in another room strung up to be killed…