White Trash Warlock

by David R. Slayton

  “What is that?” Adam asked.

  “Manticore,” Argent said. She didn’t change, didn’t unveil her true aspect, but she drew a very long sword out of her purse like a magician might draw a rabbit from a top hat. She wore a hungry expression. For a being that respected all life, she looked quite the hunter—dangerous and ready to draw blood.

  The manticore roared again, the sound more distant. She nodded to the tableau of destruction set on pause.

  “What’s happening?” Adam asked, clearing his vision and focusing on the cloud.

  “The Gaoler has contained the explosion,” she said, standing tall, all her casual demeanor cast aside. “Likely at the cost of his life.”

  “What about Annie?” Adam asked.

  The Queen of Swords shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  A wave of cold washed over Adam’s senses. The spirit tendril pulsed through the sky. It thickened and swelled, a bloody root drinking deep. No, Adam realized, not drinking, feeding itself, pumping its essence, into something, someone. The spirit vanished from the sky.

  “Where has it gone?” Adam asked. “What’s it doing?”

  “Nothing good,” Argent said.

  She tensed like she might leap.

  “You can’t,” he said. “It will kill you.”

  Argent seethed. He felt her start to turn her rage on him for his impertinence, but she held back as a shape walked out of the debris cloud, her slim hands pushing aside floating chunks of wall or broken pipes.

  Annie. Her eyes were wholly yellow. Focusing on Adam, her face split into a rictus grin. Adam checked the sky. The spirit had gone. It had filled Annie, taken her completely.

  He’d lost her. Adam had lost her. What was he going to tell Bobby?

  A wave of force broke as the explosion spread.

  Argent grabbed him by the collar.

  “We have to go,” she said.

  She pulled Adam back onto the mortal plane without pause. It took him a moment to recover, but it was no trip from Alfheimr, that or being in his body made it easier.

  The dark grounds of the closed amusement park shifted into focus around them.

  “My car!” Adam said.

  Argent frowned. “Oops.”

  She snapped her fingers and the car landed nearby, burning and crushed, its windows shattered. A large chunk of debris had folded the hood almost in two.

  Argent whistled.

  Adam gaped. She was wrecked, maybe not completely, but he’d never find the parts. He’d never be able to afford it.

  His car.

  He paused. There were bigger concerns. Annie. All those people—

  “What about downtown?” He craned his ear to listen for sirens.

  “They likely felt nothing,” Argent said, staring into the distance. “The mortal tower remains.”

  “And the immortal?”

  “Gone. Broken. The spirit is well and truly free, as are the other prisoners the Gaoler had contained.”

  Argent dimmed. She shook her head.

  “It’s possessed Annie,” Adam said. “It’s corporeal now.”

  “Then we truly are out of time,” Argent said.

  33

  Adam

  Adam could not stop shaking. Staggered, he circled the Cutlass. The front tires had popped when the debris hit. Even if he could just take off the hood, he had no way of driving her home. Totaled. His car was totaled.

  Silver ran toward them, guards flanking him like a wing of birds.

  “Did you see?” Argent asked her brother.

  “Everyone saw,” he said. “A watchtower has not fallen in centuries.”

  Adam tried to breathe. He tried to focus. Okay, his car was wrecked. He’d deal with that later. And Annie—Annie was possessed. Adam had to figure out what do about it, what to tell Bobby.

  “The gnomes’ prisoners are free,” Argent said.

  “Envoys have already been sent,” Silver said. “Though the gnomes do not answer.”

  “They’re likely dead,” Argent said. “The spirit has taken Adam’s marriage sister. It has left the sky.”

  “We have to find her,” Adam said. He looked toward downtown. On this side, the mortal side, it seemed calm, quiet and distant. “We have to go back.”

  “We can’t,” Argent said.

  “Why not?” The shard was cold in his jacket pocket. They hadn’t even had the chance to try it.

  “The explosion is still happening, still expanding,” Silver said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “And there are things loose that even I would hesitate to fight,” Argent admitted.

  Adam hugged himself at her admission and the deepening weight of the knowledge that they’d done this. They’d brought Annie to the clock tower, let the spirit in, given it the chance to—All those gnomes, just gone. Adam thought he might be sick.

  “You are not to go there,” Silver said, his voice firm.

  “I am not one of your vassals, your highness,” Adam said. “I don’t work for you.”

  “Adam,” Argent said, stepping between the two of them. “There is no way for you to shift back to the mortal side. If something caught you there, you’d be killed.”

  “Or worse,” Silver said quietly.

  “What about Annie?” Adam asked. “We can’t leave her there. She could be hurt.”

  “The spirit absorbed the watchtower’s magic,” Argent said. “It gained enough power to become corporeal again.”

  “And it has enough power to heal her,” Silver said. “It needs her alive.”

  “But not unhurt,” Adam said, hearing his voice break. “What’s it doing to her?”

  He’d felt it inside him, burning him. Fully possessed, Annie must be in agony.

  “If it can bring down watchtowers and Guardians,” Argent said. “Then there is only one solution.”

  “We have to kill her,” Silver said. His eyes dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry, Adam. I cannot see another course of action.”

  “No,” Adam said. He refused to accept it, even though he’d already come to the same conclusion. “Maybe we can drain its power, make it incorporeal and lock it away again.”

  “It’s too big of a threat now,” Silver said. “We must involve Father.”

  “I will tell him,” Argent said. “I am not yet out of his graces.”

  Adam watched her walk away and turned back to the Cutlass. He wanted to ignore Silver, but couldn’t.

  “What happens now?” Adam asked. He’d failed. The spirit had possessed Annie, brought down a watchtower. Boy troubles should be the least of Adam’s priorities, but the prince remained.

  “The other Guardians are gathering to attack it,” Silver said. “They will expect us to show no quarter this time. They already blame us for its survival.”

  “And if you say no?” Adam asked.

  “There will be war among the immortals.”

  Adam kicked the Cutlass’s flattened tire. He spat.

  “We have to find her before they do,” he said.

  “And what do we do with her, Adam?” Silver asked. “We cannot contain the spirit. It has a body now. It can die.”

  “So Annie’s just a casualty?” Adam asked.

  He expected Silver to say something like, “You forget yourself, mortal,” but the prince only bowed his head and whispered, “Yes. I wish it, and so many other things, were different, but yes.”

  “You talk so much about the sanctity of life, how important it is, but when it comes down to it, you’re cowards.”

  Silver lifted a hand, spread his fingers. Adam expected to die, for lightning to strike him dead after daring to speak so, but the guards vanished. The Cutlass vanished. Silver sent everything but the two of them back to the spirit realm.

  They stood alone in the sha
dow of a sleeping roller coaster.

  “That wasn’t fair,” Silver said. He looked hurt. Anger Adam could have dealt with.

  He plunked down onto the concrete. Around them, the night had chilled. The highway north of the amusement park had quieted.

  “No,” Adam admitted. “It wasn’t. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight.”

  But they were in one. Every nerve still thrummed from the explosion’s aftermath. That grin. Her possessed eyes—the spirit would come for them. Annie would come for them. He felt it in his bones.

  “You assume I do?” Silver asked.

  He’d returned to his 1920s gangster look. The gray suit, fedora, and cane would have added years to anyone older-looking. On Silver it enhanced his perfect skin and color-sipping eyes.

  Adam closed his eyes for a moment. He did not think he would ever not feel grimy and dingy next to the prince. At least he felt real, himself, not some elven illusion or too-beautiful sculpture.

  “Are you all right?” Silver asked.

  Adam expected Silver to offer a hand, to lead Adam somewhere finer, but the prince took a seat on the ground, in the dust, beside him.

  “I’m not hurt. Argent got me out in time.”

  “Though I am glad to know it, I didn’t mean physically.”

  “I know,” Adam said. “What am I going to tell my brother? I came here to save Annie, not get her killed.”

  “I don’t know,” Silver said. “I want another way out of this. For her. For you.”

  “Me too,” Adam said. He tried, and failed, to hide his bitterness.

  “Of all of this,” Silver said, “I find your brother the most confusing.”

  “Huh?” Adam asked. Silver’s proximity didn’t excite him so much as it made him overly aware, like his skin was a little too tight. The sensation bordered on the uncomfortable.

  “From what I recall, what you told me before, you did not think he cared about you,” Silver continued. “He locked you away.”

  “He did,” Adam said.

  “Then why call you here?” Silver asked.

  “He didn’t have anyone else,” Adam shrugged.

  “Are you certain?” Silver asked.

  “Where are you going with this?”

  “Someone set all this in motion,” Silver said. “The practitioner who broke the seal knew exactly what to do, where to strike. That is no coincidence.”

  “You’re right,” Adam said. He took a long breath and came clean, about the warlock, about the charms, about his father.

  Silver did not seem shocked.

  “Regardless of his identity, he did it at someone’s behest,” Silver said.

  “Someone is pulling the spirit’s strings,” Adam said. He felt certain of it now. He’d felt watched since this business started. He still did, even though the spirit was corporeal. He could rule it and Silver out.

  The presence was subtle, but it was there. A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have been able to detect it, but Adam had tuned his senses since coming to Denver.

  “I think so,” Silver said. “And finding whoever freed the spirit is your best approach.”

  “I don’t have a lead,” Adam said. “I didn’t find anything on Federal.”

  “Nor has Argent been able to find anything,” Silver said. “Without the Gaoler, we cannot look back through time.”

  “Great,” Adam said. All the avenues to victory were closing. They’d reached a dead end. They’d lost.

  They sat there for a long time, saying nothing, watching the sun rise. Adam felt he should be doing something, making some move to stop the spirit, to save Annie, but he felt wrung out, bloodless. The days had taken their toll, but at least he knew his next move.

  Silver sat next to Adam, staring into the horizon.

  “What do you see?” Adam asked.

  “The dragon from Lookout Mountain,” Silver said, pointing west. The explosion has stirred it.

  Squinting Adam could see a gliding shape. It ducked and out of the silvered clouds.

  “What’s it doing?” Adam asked.

  “Warning thieves off its hoard,” Silver said.

  They watched it for a while, watched the sun rise a little higher.

  “I should go home,” Adam said.

  “All right.”

  “Thank you, Silver,” Adam said.

  The elf ducked his head so the fedora hid his face.

  “Close your eyes,” he said.

  Adam did, and felt the rush of air, a change in temperature as he left the tree shade of the closed amusement park.

  He opened his eyes to brightness, to find himself sitting on the curb across from Bobby’s house. He looked around, hoping the neighbors hadn’t spotted his sudden appearance, but the street was peaceful, suburban, a typical weekday quiet.

  The Cutlass sat, wrecked, battered, and leaking all its fluids, in the driveway. Adam’s mother stood nearby, nodding to Jesse as he muttered a comment and forced open the folded hood. He whistled when he saw Adam approach.

  “Damn, Wonder Bread. What did you do to her?”

  Adam smiled despite himself. He wondered briefly, what it would be like to have an older brother like Jesse, someone he actually liked, one who liked him back. Uncomplicated would be nice.

  “It’s a long story and I don’t think you’d believe me,” Adam said.

  Frowning, Adam’s mother asked, “Something downtown?”

  Adam blinked, gave a slow nod.

  He’d always assumed that he’d gotten his magic from his father’s side, but he’d always suspected his mother might be sensitive. From time to time she’d known things she shouldn’t. Maybe that was the secret to his uniqueness, the weird blend of bloodlines.

  Maybe they were about to have a moment of understanding.

  “You’re lucky your brother went to work early,” his mother said, tone chiding, the moment squashed. “He’d have had a heart attack over this mess, Adam Lee.”

  Like it was Adam’s fault. Like he wanted his car wrecked or Silver to put it where it could offend Bobby’s delicate sensibilities. But he didn’t get into it with his mom, especially with Vic’s brother there. Jesse wore one of those long thermals with a button at the collar straining over his broad chest and a Broncos baseball cap.

  “She’s a real beauty,” Jesse said. “Or she was. Will be again.”

  “I couldn’t afford it before.” Adam waved a hand at the wrecked car. “And I really can’t afford it now.”

  “You did this?” Jesse asked, pointing to the engine.

  “Did what?” Adam asked, coming to look at whatever Jesse indicated.

  “The carburetor’s been rebuilt.”

  “Yeah,” Adam said with a shrug. “It wasn’t hard. Just took it all apart, cleaned it, and switched out what was broken.”

  “Huh,” Jesse said. “What else have you fixed?”

  “This or that,” Adam said with a shrug. “Whatever I could.”

  “Where’d you learn to do it?” Jesse asked.

  “Internet videos, asked around if I got stuck.”

  Jesse nodded, musing for a while.

  “You’re hired,” he said.

  “What?”

  “We’ll fix your car, Wonder Bread. Well, you’ll fix it. You’ll work in my shop. You can pay for the parts that way.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Jesse.”

  “I know that,” Jesse said, straightening. “I don’t have to do anything unless my mom tells me to do it. But you keep saying you need money, and I need a part-timer. You can sweep up and man the desk until we’ve made a good mechanic out of you and you get your car running. I’ll have it towed over.”

  Without further argument, he took out his phone and walked toward the curb.

  But Adam wasn’t staying. Denve
r wasn’t home. Yet Vic was here.

  Adam wondered if Aunt Sue had known. She’d sent him with the tarot cards. It stung to think she hadn’t said more of a goodbye, but it wasn’t that far, not if he had a working vehicle.

  “Think about it, Adam,” his mother said.

  Maybe he could stay a while, and when he went back he could bring some skills, maybe send Sue a little money in the meantime.

  But none of that mattered right now. They had to save Annie.

  “When will Bobby be home?” he asked.

  His mother squinted. “Why?”

  “I just—I need to talk to him,” Adam said.

  “He’ll be at the hospital all day,” Adam’s mother said.

  “Tow truck’s coming,” Jesse said, looking up from his phone.

  “No offense, but why are you here?” Adam asked.

  “Vic wanted to check on you,” Jesse said, answering his phone with a “yeah?” before letting out a quick a stream of Spanish punctuated by a glance at the house numbers and Bobby’s address.

  “He’s inside,” his mother said.

  34

  Adam

  Adam hadn’t sensed Vic’s presence. The line between them, the connection, had faded again. That kiss had been electric, burning, but Adam’s gut twisted at the new distance between them.

  “Hey,” Vic said from where he sat in Annie’s overstuffed, oversize chair.

  “What are you doing in here?” Adam asked, smiling as the screen door closed behind him.

  “Still can’t stand too long,” Vic said.

  “Do you need anything? Water?” Adam asked.

  Vic waved away Adam’s concern. “Nah. Tell me what’s up.”

  “Jesse offered me a job,” Adam said, coming close enough to sit on the ottoman, within reach.

  “That’s great,” Vic said. He leaned closer. That scent, his body wash, Adam suspected, citrus and sandalwood, pressed near.

  “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?” Adam asked.

  “I’m going a little crazy,” Vic said. He scratched the back of his head, made a sheepish expression. “I love my mom, but she can get a little smothery.”

  “I get that,” Adam said. Sue was kind, but there weren’t many secrets or much privacy in a single wide trailer.