White Trash Warlock

by David R. Slayton

  41

  Adam

  Adam pulled the string and fired. The arrow lodged into the paper target.

  “Nice shot,” Vic said.

  “Thanks,” Adam said, still feeling the stretch in his arms. “We grew up with these.”

  “You’re really going to do this?” Vic asked.

  Adam plucked another arrow from the quiver. He’d picked up a few normal ones to practice with.

  “Do I have a choice?” he asked before turning and firing again.

  And it was so much worse than Vic knew.

  The hardware store had had what he needed: caulk and a heavy hammer. He’d taken the bog iron from Bobby’s mantel, pounded it to bits with the hammer, and ground it together with the shards, obsidian, black glass. He’d added the caulk and his own blood, his fingertips bleeding as he shaped the arrowheads. Because it took blood. Of course it did. He had the shard from the hospital, the one he’d stabbed Annie with. It had her blood on it, but he would not use that.

  Now they lay drying while he practiced.

  His hands shook, sending the second arrow wide. It bounced off Bobby’s privacy fence. He’d probably complain, though Adam was using harmless practice arrows. They barely left a divot in the pine.

  Just the thought of his brother gripped Adam’s heart in black. Sara had set this all in motion. She’d left him no choice, steered him to a point of no return. And Sue. He thought back on all her comments about his dad, all his attempts to learn from her.

  His heart ached to think she could have known, could have offered him up, had any part in Death’s long game. Adam’s sight was shiny with welling tears.

  “He’s not dead,” Vic said, sensing Adam’s grief but misreading its target. He stepped closer, wrapped his arms around Adam and pulled the bow out of his hands.

  “But he won’t wake up,” Adam said. He considered jerking away. Sensing that, too, Vic tightened his grip.

  “I woke up,” he said into Adam’s hair. “You woke up.”

  Adam pulled again, but Vic tightened his arms, even though Adam felt it hurt his stitches.

  “Stay,” Vic said.

  “I’m not a puppy,” Adam whispered.

  “No, you’re not,” Vic said. “And I can’t let you kill a woman, even if she is possessed.”

  “You heard her,” Adam said. “Death.”

  “I’m still a cop,” Vic said. “I’m still a law enforcement officer.”

  “So, what, we’re supposed to cuff her?” Adam asked.

  There’s still time to save her.

  Had Dad’s note lied?

  “No,” Vic said. “But there has to be another way.”

  “I don’t see one,” Adam said, twisting in Vic’s arms so he could look him in the eyes. “I don’t see another way, and she won’t stop. She’ll keep coming, and killing, and consuming.”

  He felt Vic work his way through the problem, come to the same terrible conclusion. Natural law had to supersede the laws of man, and the laws of magic.

  First, do no harm.

  Sue had told him that a hundred times, maybe a thousand.

  “Dammit,” Vic said, accent thick.

  Adam hated that it had come to this. Vic had accepted so much about the situation, about Adam and magic and even becoming a Reaper, but this, this might be the thing that changed his mind, made him look away from Adam forever—when he found out Adam was about to turn warlock.

  Light shimmered. Argent’s white van appeared in the yard. The elf who’d driven them to the clock tower sat behind the wheel. She shot them an impatient glance.

  “It’s time,” Adam said, gathering up the bow and arrows. “You don’t have to come.”

  And he so wished Vic wouldn’t. Adam didn’t want him to see, didn’t want Vic to be there. Because he had to do it. To save his brother, he’d do it, even though it would cost him everything.

  In the end, Bobby was family, and Adam loved him.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  *****

  Silver had abandoned the ballroom for the fun house, a structure that no longer stood in the real world. Full of large wooden barrels and a sort of people-sized roulette wheel, Adam couldn’t imagine how anyone had ever found such a place fun. To enter, they walked past a creepy, laughing marionette in a cage.

  Seamus was there with a few of his fellow leprechauns. A few dwarves kept to the shadows. Adam hadn’t seen them before, and they lived up to every stereotype he’d had. His heart lifted to see a pair of gnomes, though the aura of magic around them was dim.

  And there were Saurians, a trio. The leader tipped his head and Adam smiled.

  “Bill?” he asked.

  “Yep,” the big lizard replied, the Oklahoma drawl sounding odd coming from his toothy mouth.

  “Why are you here?” Adam asked. The Saurians weren’t among the Guardian races, at least not currently.

  “Consider us character witnesses, if anyone doubts you.”

  “Thanks,” Adam said, head dipping. “And thank you, for what you did.”

  He almost asked what Seamus had demanded to deliver the package, but he wasn’t certain he could bear knowing. Nor did he want to know how Bill would react if he knew that the source of the charms, the source of the pain inflicted on one of the Saurians was likely Adam’s own father.

  “It was the right thing to do,” Bill said. “After what you did for us.”

  “See?” Vic whispered as they walked on. “You do good, people do good for you.”

  Adam wasn’t certain that was always true, but his steps lightened that Vic was there. Argent and Silver stood at the center of things, the light around them harsh, reflecting the tension in their stance.

  “This place is a health and safety nightmare,” Vic muttered, looking at the archaic amusements.

  “We thought the bumper cars would be too distracting,” Silver said.

  Vic smiled, and Silver inclined his head in a friendly way.

  At least they weren’t fighting over him.

  “You have a plan, Adam Binder?” Argent asked.

  “We need bait,” he said. “Get her to come after us.”

  “What do we use?” Seamus asked.

  “Magic,” Adam said. “Your magic. As bad as it wants me, it wants its power back more.”

  “So then it dies,” Silver said. “What keeps it from escaping again, just going back to what it was?”

  “I have to bind it,” Adam said. He held up an arrow in his bandaged fingertips.

  No one gasped. No one shouted “Warlock!” and tried to haul him to a dungeon. They fell perfectly silent, which felt so much worse.

  “That binding takes a sacrifice,” Argent said. “It takes the pain of a living thing.”

  “Which is why I used my own blood,” Adam said.

  “Adam . . .” Silver said, quietly, his sadness a blue cloud filling Adam like rain.

  “What?” Vic asked. “What do they mean?”

  “Adam will maim his soul,” Argent said. “He’ll be in pain if he makes the binding. Forever.”

  “I can take it,” he said, looking around the room. “It was me or one of you. I may have to become a warlock, but I won’t do that.”

  No one spoke then. The room stayed quiet until Argent asked, “When?”

  “Now,” Adam said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “I’ll drive you,” she said.

  “Nothing too nice, please,” Adam said, thinking of the Cutlass and trying to lighten the room’s heavy air. “I don’t want it to get crunched.”

  “Something domestic, then,” Argent said. “If I must. But I’m not a taxi service.”

  “Yeah, you’re not,” Vic said. Adam felt him pick up on what Adam needed and chime in. “Your car is nicer.”

  “Cars,
Vicente,” Argent stressed. “Cars.”

  “No,” Silver said, interrupting the banter. “This is my duty, sister.”

  They only clashed for a moment this time, and Adam was certain it was Argent who relented, yielding to her brother for once, because he needed it.

  “Fine,” she said.

  42

  Adam

  Dusk settled over downtown. The lights still shown in the theater district, but the debris and dust from the explosion still fogged the air. Adam could feel the remnants of the Gaoler’s magic, his attempt to stop time, or at least slow it so others could escape.

  Spirits no longer strolled or partied here. The clock tower’s destruction had burned away the carnival feeling. The things he spied scurried or hid.

  Silver stopped the Audi at the edge of downtown.

  Something roared, loud and vibrating.

  “What was that?” Vic asked.

  “Manticore,” Adam and Silver said together.

  Adam was torn about his presence. He did not want the prince to come to harm, but without him, they had no way back to the mortal plane.

  “Where should we make our stand?” Silver asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  Adam had searched the internet, looking for the right spot. The open field among the classical structures would serve. He wished he’d called Aunt Sue again. If this was it, he’d had no chance to say goodbye.

  “Civic Center Park,” he said. “Lots of room to use a bow there.”

  “And to maneuver if anything big happens along,” Vic said as the manticore roared again. He had his gun and baton. They weren’t going to stop Annie, but he could slow anything else that might take an interest in them.

  Silver parked, and they climbed out.

  Dust flecked their hair and shoulders as they walked on. They reached the park, Silver, seeing better than them, stiffened. He threw out an arm to block their progress.

  “Careful,” he whispered.

  Bones, massive and bare, filled the space. Crows, who seemed to have no trouble crossing worlds, had done their work, stripping the bones of flesh.

  “What is this?” Vic asked, gaping at a rib cage that could have belonged to a whale. Several red-eyed crows sat atop it, silently watching.

  “I think the spirit has been feeding,” Silver said.

  Vic drew his pistol, chambered a bullet. Adam slung the bow’s case off his shoulder, biting down a comment. Vic was a cop, an expert. That didn’t lessen Adam’s feelings on the matter of firearms.

  Shadows flew through the cloud, blotting out the gas street lamps and marquis signs.

  “This is creepy,” Vic said.

  “Says the baby Reaper,” Adam said.

  “Rookie,” Vic stressed.

  “Are you ready, Silver?” Adam asked.

  “Look away,” he said. Adam obeyed and heard the ring as the knight unsheathed his sword.

  White light burned through the dust and dusk. The former prisoners of the clock tower, the flying things concealed in the cloud, fled the light with shrieks and hisses.

  The raw magic was like a lighthouse beacon, shining into the sky.

  The manticore roared.

  “We have someone’s attention,” Vic said, pistol raised. “But do we have hers?”

  Adam extended his senses, knowing the spirit may feel it, that he may add bait to the trap.

  Silver had put away his aspect, but he still held a sword, long and willowy. They waited, listening, scanning the shadows between the shifts in the cloud that obscured the spirit moon.

  Adam felt a tendril of cold hunger.

  “She’s here,” he said.

  Annie stepped into the arch at the park’s end, about a hundred feet away. The spirit flickered around her like living fire, illuminating her in red and yellow. She still wore the clothes she’d on when they’d taken her to the clock tower. Filthy, burned, and blood covered, she moved with grace. The spirit had mastered the body, though still Annie could not contain it. Her hair had fallen out.

  Adam nocked an arrow, drew the bow.

  “You sure about this?” Vic asked.

  “No,” Adam said. He loosed the arrow.

  The arrow struck her shoulder. Annie and the spirit, fully bound together, screeched, like a bird of prey or a cat in pain.

  His dad had taught him this, to use a bow, expecting to take him hunting, that they could supplement the grocery bill with squirrels and rabbits. After the BB gun, after Dad left, Bobby had never made Adam shoot a living thing, but he’d enjoyed the practice, and the time spent with Bobby.

  Adam could feel the arrowhead stuck in Annie’s body. Part of the seal, the binding circle that had imprisoned the spirit for so long mixed with his iron and set in iron. Pain flared through him. He and Vic gasped together. Adam forced his sight to clear, to keep the pain and tears away. He scrambled to nock another arrow as Annie rushed them, using that impossible speed like she had at the hospital. Vic took aim at her. Silver lifted his sword.

  Annie, the spirit, roared again, but this time a roar answered her.

  The manticore dove out of the fog. It landed on the arch behind Annie with force enough to shake the piles of bones. A lion with a scorpion tale, it had leathery bat wings.

  The manticore dove for Annie, its wings, blotting the haze-filtered moon.

  The lion’s mouth opened wide, ready to swallow her whole. Annie sidestepped the blow, and Adam shot her in the back. She roared again as the manticore sank its teeth into her shoulder. It should have killed her, but it was the beast that withered. Aging, it folded in on itself, until a skeleton of ancient bones collapsed around Annie as she drank its magic, its life. Annie straightened.

  “Dammit, what good is it?” Adam asked. She’d just healed herself.

  “Look,” Silver said. “See.”

  The binding remained. The magic no longer exploded from her. It was contained, roiling, too hot, too much.

  Adam shot her again, and the magic compressed even as he felt like he’d cut off a limb. The arrows weren’t killing her, but they were sealing the power inside Annie, tightening the lid on the pressure cooker. They had to bring it to a boil.

  She straightened, looked Adam in the eye.

  “We have to get to the car!” Adam said, taking off at a run.

  “Why?” Vic demanded.

  “We need more magic,” Adam said.

  “Isn’t that what she wants?” Vic asked.

  “We have to push her over the edge.”

  “I can—” Silver started.

  “That’s not an option, your majesty,” Adam said.

  “It’s my duty,” Silver said, though he kept running with them, back toward the Audi.

  “Yeah, I’m not big on that,” Adam said. “Just ask the Reapers.”

  Annie had nearly caught up.

  Vic turned, fired twice.

  She went down.

  “Keep moving!” he said, springing back into motion.

  They piled into the car, Silver behind the wheel. Adam felt Annie before he saw her. She rose into the air, leaping in a great arc.

  Silver floored it, racing down streets built for carriages. Annie crashed to the ground where they’d been parked, making a divot in the earth. Sealed or no, the spirit still had a lot of power.

  “Where are we going?” Silver asked.

  “Lookout Mountain!” Adam shouted.

  “Why?” Vic demanded.

  “Don’t go too fast,” Adam told Silver. “We don’t want to lose her.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Vic said. In the mirror, she came on, running at that impossible speed.

  Silver kept it floored. Adam took gulping breaths as a bat, then a larger flying beast, bounced off the windshield.

  The pain in his chest w
as heaving.

  “Are you all right?” Vic asked. Leaning forward, he set his hand on Adam’s shoulder. Adam reached to lay his palm atop Vic’s.

  “I can manage it,” he said. And he could.

  They were out of the city. Silver crossed lanes, avoiding ghostly bison and a caravan of dinosaurs.

  “What the . . .” Vic trailed off.

  The signs to I-70 were like tiny moons. They glowed and burst into flame, burned out, and formed again. The mountain, a dwarf compared to the pine covered peaks behind it, rose ahead. Adam didn’t look at the mortal side. He stayed focused on what lay ahead and what chased from behind.

  Anticipating Silver’s driving, Annie leapt again. She crashed atop the short trunk and ripped the top off the Audi. It wasn’t Bobby’s car anymore, but Adam still cringed. She cast the top aside with one hand, the other clawed into the trunk’s hood. Vic shot her again, point blank, but she batted him aside, climbed over him, heading for Silver. Adam, seatbelt unbuckled, wrapped his fist around a third arrow and drove it into her chest. She screamed again, and tumbled off the car.

  “Vic!” Adam shouted.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” Vic said, scrambling to retrieve his gun. “Your ex drives worse than his sister.”

  Lips a tight line, Silver cocked his head, but he kept his eyes on the road.

  Adam obeyed as Vic sat up. He had a scratch across his face, but he seemed okay.

  “Almost there,” Silver said, turning off the highway into the hills.

  The roar was like a city sinking into the ocean, like a volcanic eruption.

  “We’re here for your hoard!” Adam shouted, broadcasting it as loud as he could, as loud as he’d ever sent his timid just passing through.

  The dragon bloated the emerald moon. Its skin was like footage of running lava, all molten and charred, but with cracks of fire shining where its scales joined. It was colossal, raw magic. It was the most beautiful, most terrifying thing Adam had ever seen.

  “She’s almost here!” Vic shouted.

  Annie saw her leap in the mirror. At the same time, the dragon dove.

  “Now, Silver!” Adam shouted.

  The elf slammed on the brakes, so hard, Adam was certain his spirit would have whiplash.