“I—I don’t know how,” said Blythe, with eyes full of tears.
“Just—put your hands on her.”
Blythe looked at Celeste, then leaned forward, placing her hands on Celeste’s bruised neck. With her fingers, she stroked the wound, going so far as to close her eyes to concentrate better. Minutes dragged like hours. But there was no light, no power, no magic.
Blythe sat back with a face full of exasperation and sorrow. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to Sefira. Arms outstretched, she reached for Sefira as if to hold her, but Sefira pulled away.
“They killed her,” said Sefira, the words sharp and brittle like tumbleweeds in her throat. “She’s dead and it’s because of me. I killed her.”
Her mother interrupted, taking her hand. “I’m sorry, but we need that salt, Sefira.”
“I got it. I’ll be right back,” said Blythe. Seconds later Blythe returned with a blue canister in hand.
Delilah wrenched it from her and started to pour hastily on the floor. “Don’t leave this circle,” she said as she walked around the girls kicking some of the furniture out of the way. Little did she know that she needn’t worry about Sefira. She wasn’t going anywhere. Like a string, she was unravelling.
“She’s dead,” Sefira exclaimed, still on her knees. Tears stung her eyes.
“Fira,” Delilah placed a hand on her shoulder.
“No!” She slapped her mother’s hand away. “She’s dead! She’s dead!” She stood. “Where’s Carli and Randall.” Abruptly she turned, headed for the stairs. Her mother caught her by the arm.
“Wait!” she insisted, pulling her back.
Just then, a voice called from upstairs.
“Fira? Fira get out!”
Sefira looked up to see Carli behind the banister with Randall. Her sister’s hair was plastered to her face with what looked like tears and sweat, and when she turned her head one side was reddened as if she’d been struck. Randall’s face was bloodied, and he hobbled a bit as he walked. They were both escorted out of Randall’s room by two stocky looking men in suits. A third man in black with long silver hair lagged behind. He smiled, hands clasped behind his back. Sefira wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Ah, so this is your sister,” the silver-haired man exclaimed looking at Sefira. “You must excuse our tardiness. We’ve been at our little exercise for some time now. If it makes you feel any better, these two wouldn’t budge. They wouldn’t give me any information about you or the company you keep.” He looked at Carli and Randall. “Good little loyal soldiers, they are.” He smiled a retched smile. “You might live yet,” he said clapping his hands together. “It all depends on the little chat we’re about to have.” Placing his long, pale fingers on the railing, he peered over the banister.
“Look at what we have here,” the silver-haired man exclaimed. “The Black Rose and her crown of thorns. You’ve finally decided to crawl out of the hole you’ve been hiding in.” His eyes went to Celeste’s body, bemusement besetting his long, slender face. “By the looks of the salt on the floor, I see you found our calling card.”
“Magnus, was it?” said her mother, tossing the canister of salt. “You’re just as pathetic as you were moons ago.”
“And I’ve noticed that Earth has taken its toll on your youth and beauty. But these are just observations, are they not?”
“What do you want?” Her mother fired back.
“You know what I want. You—and the children.”
“These children are refugees. They have nothing to do with this.”
Magnus laughed. “Surely, you will not deny your ilk? Their resemblance is uncanny. Think of what you’re doing to their self-esteem.”
“I’m not here for games.”
“And neither are we. You know why we’re here. You stand accused of violating The Order.”
“On what grounds?”
“High Treason. Among the most grievous of charges, Conspiring to Overthrow the Throne, the Murder of King Aronaut, as well as the Parturition of Deviants.”
“Lies. I’ve done nothing of the sort.”
“If that’s the case, you needn’t worry. Stand before the Tribunal. Plead your case. I have assurances that if you surrender, your children’s’ lives will be spared, no matter the outcome. Come with us willingly and no one else has to get hurt.”
“The Tribunal,” she scoffed. “I’m sure to get a fair hearing there. I’m afraid you are wasting your breath. We will not surrender.”
“Oh,” he said, “I see. Well then, let me introduce you to my traveling companions. We have Grizzle, ready to pop this little girl’s head like a pomegranate seed.” He gestured toward one of the robust men in suits. He was young, but everything about him was exceedingly white: his hair, his bushy eyebrows and his long gruff beard—eyes being the exception. They were dark and shiny as if forged by obsidian. Grizzle acknowledged his introduction with a tilt of his head and a rough pat on Carli’s shoulder that sent her stumbling. “And next to me is Dench, who is ready to tear this fine young boy’s throat out. Or was it his heart? One of the two.” Randall was pushed to his knees by a shorter man with dark hair shorn into a crew-cut. His face was chiseled and his skin was darker, although that wasn’t saying much as the other two were milk-white. Under different circumstances, he might be fair to look upon, yet something about his eyes chilled her. Like Grizzle his chest was broad and his arm muscles seemed to stretch his suit as his massive hand gripped her brother’s shoulder. Noticeable, were the long, curved claws protruding from the man’s fingers.
“Don’t,” yelled Sefira. “Don’t touch them. Let them go!”
“Ah, the voice of reason,” Magnus exclaimed. His clear eyes lit up.
“The Humans have no part in this,” said Delilah. “Killing them is against the The Order.”
“You,” Magnus pointed a long, crooked finger, “are the last person who should be speaking about what’s forbidden. I’ll ask but once more—a trade. We’ll let the Humans go if you come with us.”
“I’ll do it.” Sefira volunteered, straightening up. Delilah shot her a look and Blythe tried to grab her arm but Sefira tore away. “I’ll go with you, just let them go.”
“No, you won’t,” said Delilah, chewing her bottom lip. “We’ll fight. Winner takes all.”
The men laughed heartily as Dench leaned against the banister. “We’re to bring you back, not kill you,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about,” Delilah answered, cold as ice. “What? Are you so afraid of one woman?”
“Three,” corrected Blythe, hatred in her eyes.
“She really is out of her tree,” said Grizzle, smiling wickedly.
Dench sighed in disgust. “I told you, Magnus. All this talk is a waste of time. Let me handle this. Three little girls, ha!” In one stroke, his clawed hand ripped the shirt and jacket off his back to reveal a broad, hairy chest. Drawing a mighty breath, he heaved, grunting noisily, but not enough to drown out the sharp sounds of bones cracking and realigning themselves underneath the thin veil of his skin. Sefira watched in disgust as they poked and pushed against his belly like a fetus clamoring for an out. The banister moaned under his weight as he lurched abruptly forward, head bowed, claws grasping the wooden railing as if to steady himself as the muscles in his arms and legs thickened and bones lengthened, growing by at least a foot.
“A Droge,” said her mother under her breath.
“A what?” asked Blythe, looking just as scared as Sefira felt.
“The creature after which your wolf legends are based.” Pierce his organs with silver, and he’ll die. Everything else will only slow him down. Mattah!” Delilah shouted, and a red glow illuminated the cracks surrounding Sefira’s bedroom door. The next thing Sefira knew, an iridescent sphere rotated in her mother’s hand. Tossing it into the air, it levitated and became a long silver sword, which she promptly grabbed by the hilt and hunched down, double fisting it.
Meanwhile
, Dench’s chest had ballooned and the skin all over his body stretched and puffed like a side of bacon fat on a fryer. As his ears grew to points, long, brown, dog-like hair sprouted over every portion of his exposed skin. Snarling, his mandible broke and realigned itself, forming a long, dark muzzle that jutted from newly formed jowls. Yellow fangs, long and ferocious, pierced his gums sending blood-soaked foam and drool spraying in all directions. When he lifted his head, it was plain to see that he was no longer Dench the man, but Dench the beast. A heart-stopping growl split the air as two golden-yellow discs for eyes trained themselves on the women below. What was left was nothing short of what Sefira would call a werewolf.
“Get ready. Every one of them is dangerous,” warned Delilah, without taking her eyes off the lot of them. “Magnus is a Voltair. They cast spells. The circle will protect you from him, but it won’t against the other two. Things get hairy, get out.”
“They already have,” whispered Blythe.
Although a monster, the way Dench used his clawed hand to push Randall to the floor attested to the fact that he still possessed the deftness and perhaps the intelligence of a human. Assuming he had been one to begin with. Wood splintered as the beast tore a hunk of the banister right off the landing.
“Stop him as soon as he hits the ground,” Delilah whispered.
“I—it doesn’t work for long,” said Sefira.
“I only need a second. You got silver?” she asked.
“Uh.” Sefira fidgeted, her heart was slamming against her ribs. “China cabinet—in—in the dining room.”
“Blythe, in a second, I’ll need you to fetch that for me and then get right back in this circle.”
The wolf growled, crouched and leapt off the banister.
“Now!”
Blythe disappeared and Sefira waved, intending to throw him, stop him, do something to buy her mother some time. But her powers failed her. Nothing happened. She stared, horrified.
Claws and fangs ripped through the air and so did Delilah’s sword. It moved deftly, like a natural extension of her mother’s hand, swishing left and right. But, the monster proved quick, sidestepping most of her strikes. Several times, Sefira cringed fearing his hefty blows would connect. Delilah narrowly avoided him, dancing back and forth before amping her offense. Soon, blood gushed from his arm, chest and face and finally, an entire hand came flying off. Dench roared baring teeth, and so did Grizzle who stepped forward as if he might join the fray, but Magnus placed a hand on his chest, signaling for him to stay back.
Dench lunged, impaling her mother’s arm with his claws and she screamed, dropped her sword and grabbed his wrist. With his stump he pushed her off then drew his arm back as if to finish her. Her mother whispered something, and the sword lit up and flew back to her grip. Just in time for her to dance left when he charged forward, spin around and cut his head off. The Droge’s body and head tumbled to the floor, the latter of which she sent flying with a kick of her shoe. “He’s not dead,” said her mother, trying to catch her breath as her eyes glowed and electric blue. “I need that silver.”
“Right here.” Blythe was back in the circle. She tossed a silver butter knife to Delilah which she caught, but right before she drove it into the wolf’s chest an invisible force drove her backward, pinning her half way up the family room wall. The force of the blow caused her to drop the knife and sword. She called her sword back to her hand, but she could not wield it. Instead her arms and legs were immobilized as if fastened by restraints, and all she could do was wriggle to no avail.
“This is ridiculous,” said Magnus, looking at Grizzle impatiently. “I’ve got her. Grab the girls and let’s go, Hyperion calls.
Grizzle’s nose grew into a snout and his jaw elongated. Long yellow canines slid from his mouth and white fur covered his skin as he became a creature that was part man and part bear. With a bellowing cry, he jumped off the ruined banister and Sefira went numb. Blythe, on the other hand, went crazy. She orbed to Delilah’s sword, snatched it from her grip and rushed the creature.
It only took one of Grizzle’s massive hands to knock Blythe clean off her feet. With a grunt and thump, she hit the wooden floor, rolled over and did not move.
“Blythe!” Sefira screamed.
Magnus leaned over the banister, watching curiously from above while Randall attempted to steal away during the commotion. He got as far as planting one foot underneath him when Magnus outstretched his hand. Both he and Carli flattened like pancakes stuck to the floor of the landing.
Sefira wanted to see to Blythe, but Grizzle started in her direction. Grandpa’s recliner was in his way so he flung it over his shoulder. An end table and a couple of chairs that had found their way into the room were also pitched. Claws thick and brown grew even longer from his fingertips, and as he stepped inside the ring of salt, Sefira just stood there, paralyzed with fear. They said they weren’t here to kill us. But as the creature loomed over her, somehow, the thought was of no comfort. Cringing, she braced herself for a blow, but instead she was knocked sideways. From the floor she looked up, to find Kaetano standing in her place. My God, he’ll be killed. “Kaetano, go!”
He glanced at her for a second, his eyes a silver glow, and to Sefira’s dismay, he too began to change. His chest swelled as did his arms, slightly splitting the sleeves of his flannel and there was a strange energy hovering about his hands. Horrified, Sefira inched backwards, her back bumping against chairs.
Grizzle roared, throwing his weight upon Kaetano as if to tackle him, but Kaetano caught him by the throat and slung him so hard he crashed through the family room wall and into the living room. Then he looked to Magnus. With a bump of his fists, a halo of silver energy formed in his hands and it spun like a Frisbee through the air, striking him. The Voltair cried out in pain as his body began to stiffen and decompose before their eyes. Somehow, that must’ve weakened his hold, because Delilah, Randall, and Carli were suddenly released. Delilah fell to the floor. Meanwhile, Randall grabbed his sister’s hand and searched frantically for an exit. He peered over the second floor but must’ve thought better than to go downstairs. Instead, they disappeared into Randall’s room, slamming the door shut behind them.
A low growl from behind reminded Sefira that this battle was far from over. She staggered to her feet, whirling around to see the Droge in one piece, closing in; he wasn’t alone. Large chunks of drywall sprayed as Grizzle emerged from the hole he was sent through. Kaetano pulled her, ushering her close to him.
“Cease!” a voice boomed. They looked up. Slowly, Magnus’s body normalized. Sefira looked to the Droge. His yellow eyes narrowed but he obeyed, retreating and so did Grizzle. Meanwhile, Blythe began to convulse.
Magnus floated over the banister, staring at Kaetano. As he hovered, his black garb melted and was replaced by a flowing scarlet robe, the hood of which shrouded his eyes. Face aglow, he chuckled. “Kaos. I knew you looked familiar. You’re the boy from Adalan. The savior of his people. My, you’ve grown.” He smiled stiffly. “You are extraordinary, but you are no match for The Art of Ancients, my friend.”
“What is he talking about?” Sefira quizzed.
“I was going to tell you,” Kaetano answered, not quite meeting her eyes.
“Tell me what?”
“Don’t listen to the sorcerer.” Delilah interjected. “He seeks to divide.”
“Oh, she doesn’t know,” said Magnus, with a smirk. “The boy’s been hunting you. Like us. And I must say, Kaos, I admire your tenacity. Battling in the Arena and traveling all this way. Only, it looks as if you may have abandoned your cause. Nivea would be quite displeased to hear such a report.” His eyes shifted as he clasped his hands together. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll do you a favor. Nobody has to know of this charade. I’ll let you have one free and clear. That way, everyone walks out a winner.”
Sefira swallowed hard, studying Kaetano. “He’s lying, right?”
He took a deep breath before their eyes locked. “No—not e
ntirely. But I can exp—”
“Now I know why you took such an interest. You’ve been stalking me. Waiting—haven’t you?” Her voice had reached a crescendo.
“No, I—”
“Did you know about this?” asked Sefira, pointing at her dead mother. “Were you here when all of this happened?” Please tell me you weren’t here. Please tell me you would never let this happen to my family.
Kaetano’s shoulders tensed and he grew silent. “I nev—”
A sharp pain stabbed her chest upon the realization that he’d been lying all along, igniting a tide of unbridled anger. “Liar!” With a wave of her hand, Kaetano was knocked several feet into the kitchen. Pots and glass crashed to the floor along with him. She waved again, and a couch lifted off the ground and pummeled Magnus—sending him crashing through the remainder of the banister and into the wall upstairs.
The rest of the events happened so fast Sefira could barely keep up.
Grizzle launched toward her, and Delilah was on him quick as lightning, but his fist caught her in the belly before she could wield her sword. Grunting she crumpled to the floor. A silver halo flew through the room, missing Grizzle by a hare, shattering the bay window instead. Enraged, Grizzle tore through the room toward Kaetano and they were left fighting in the kitchen.
Blythe’s cries diverted Sefira’s attention. Her sister’s face was twisted in anguish; shrouded by the same illuminated markings Sefira had seen in the alley. Like before, they shimmied down her neck to her shoulders, arms and legs. Meanwhile, her back arched and body writhed—she was turning.
Soon thereafter, her mother’s cries joined the foray. Sefira whipped her head around just in time to see the Droge withdrawing bloody fangs from her mother’s shoulder.
Using her power was as easy as breathing now. Sefira paralyzed the Droge, just like she did the creature in the alley, only this time she was able to hold him longer. Long enough for Delilah to crawl out on her elbows from underneath him. And long enough to allow Blythe to arise from the floor, fully transformed and looking pissed. Within seconds, Blythe was mid-air above the creature with her legs interlocked around its neck. Over and over she flipped, each time slamming Dench’s body like a battering ram against broken furniture and the floor. No sooner did he lie battered on the ground than Blythe picked up the knife from the cabinet. “This is for my father,” she growled, plunging the knife straight through his ribs. The creature howled as fountains of blood squirted in every direction. It attempted one last swipe before whittling to dust.
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