“Precisely,” Oxivius said. Taking his eyes off her for the first time since she had slid into the booth, he reached to his side, retrieving his cane and a top hat. “It’s too personal.”
He shifted out of the booth in a fluid motion, offering a hand to Xlina like a gentleman before ushering her out of the club. He shooed her out the door with his cane, and she made quick time to the sidewalk outside. The autumn air was cool on her skin as the sound of Zeppelin faded with the closing of Pandora’s main door.
“What do you mean, Oxivius?” she croaked in defiance as the cane prodded her down the street and his steps quickened. They looked like an odd couple, her dressed in sportswear accompanied by him dressed as if he had fallen from the Victorian era and was now scuttling down the street.
“It is far too personal,” he continued, his voice a hush as he quickened his pace again. “The cephalopod tasted you, had its suckers on your flesh. It had your scent.”
“Wait! What?” Xlina objected, coming to a complete stop and yanking Oxivius around to look at her squarely.
“It clearly followed you home,” he replied coolly. “It’s too much of a coincidence that the next target is so close to you. It must have followed you to your home, waiting for a chance.”
“Why didn’t it kill me in my sleep then?” Xlina protested again. “If it knew where I was.”
“You weren’t alone,” Oxivius continued. “Valeria was waiting for you, was she not? She spoke to you that same night. She is like a bane to things of the Otherworld. I don’t quite know what she is, but I have seen it myself, love. Things are scared of her.”
“But she didn’t stay,” Xlina objected. “She left while I was in the shower.”
“Yes, washing its scent off of you no doubt,” Oxivius agreed.
“But then...” Xlina’s voice trailed off. “The floor. I left ink marks all over the floor in the corridor. I was supposed to clean it up, but I didn’t.”
“Your neighbor?” Oxivius asked with a lift brow.
“I promised her I would do it,” Xlina said with a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. “I didn’t go back, and in the morning, it was clean. She must have wiped up the ink.”
“Indeed,” Oxivius said, motioning with a nod for her to follow the logic.
“She knew I wouldn’t,” Xlina continued. “She would have cleaned it as soon as I entered my apartment.”
“And so?” Oxivius prodded.
“And so when it came into the building, the trail of scent was all over her,” Xlina said solemnly. “It’s targeting her because I dragged her into it.”
“Yes,” Oxivius nodded. “It probably made it into her room, stood over her sleeping body, and realized she wasn’t you. But she had the scent. She was the thread that would lead back to you. Thus the hunted becomes the hunter.”
Xlina stood in shock, the words washing over her. Could Oxivius be right? Had her mistakes and carelessness put Amber in harm’s way, or was this all just speculation from the odd man before her?
“How did it know?” Xlina stammered. “Tonight, how did it know?”
“It watched,” Oxivius shrugged. “Maybe from the street or a common access spot.”
“The laundry room,” Xlina said blankly.
“Perfect,” Oxivius agreed. “Watched patiently and waited for you to leave, but you came together, didn’t you?”
“Shared an Uber,” Xlina nodded.
“So,” Oxivius continued. “Where is our hunter now?”
“Well, he wasn’t in the car,” Xlina replied. “So we probably lost him.”
“Did you check the driver?” Oxivius asked.
“The creeper who was looking at Amber like she was tonight’s main course?” Xlina asked before her words settled in.
“An apt description,” Oxivius agreed with that damn lifted eyebrow again. “Did you check for glamors?”
“I’m not a witch,” Xlina barked defensively.
“You didn’t,” Oxivius said with a slight disapproving nod.
“I’m not a witch,’ Xlina protested again. “Those kinds of charms cost money.”
“And you could barely afford to pay for a sausage with your pocket change,” Oxivius chuckled, sweeping his arm back to the sidewalk and indicating they should keep moving.
“So then where are we going?” Xlina asked, continuing on the sidewalk. She hated being broke, and she hated that he was laughing about her being broke.
“Just around the block,” Oxivius prodded, pulling her down a side street. “If I am right, and I would bet Sherlock Holmes coveted pipe that I am, you’re going to find your Uber parked nearby. Now what’s an Uber look like?”
“It’s a white Subaru,” Xlina responded, scanning the street.
“Excellent,” Oxivius remarked. “This one has been here a while... long enough to learn to drive your automobiles.”
“There,” Xlina exclaimed, pointing to a white Subaru parked in a lot. Its headlights were still on, and the driver stood leaning against the door, puffing on a lit cigar.
“Elementary, my dear girl,” Oxivius said smugly with a smile, but Xlina was already in full run.
She sprinted down the walk, vaulting over the knee-length steel girder marking the boundaries of the parking lot and ducking low behind a silver pickup. The driver stood eyeing his watch and lazily flicking cigar ash into the wind. She crouched low, moving silently around the tail end of the truck and slipping down three more car lengths until she reached the back end of the white Subaru. The oblivious driver just stood there, inhaling another deep drag from his cigar before letting out a puff and looking down the street where Oxivius had been. Xlina looked back as well, worried that Oxivius would blow it standing out in the street looking like a reject from the set of a vampire movie, but to her surprise, he was nowhere to be found.
Checking around, Xlina saw no other movement in the parking lot and took her chance vaulting around the back of the Subaru and unleashing a vicious right cross on the unsuspecting driver, who turned just in time to catch her fist with his open maw. His head squashed, like the night before, her strike not finding bone beneath the glamor; it felt like punching pudding. Oxivius was right, the driver was the cephalopod. The driver staggered under the blow, dropping his cigar and slamming his hands on the hood of the Subaru to regain his balance.
“Not this time,” Xlina jeered through clenched teeth as she pressed her assault, raining down a combination of lefts and rights crackling with the stored energy from her earlier nightmare. Her blows landed heavy onto what should have been the kidneys, but they sunk harmlessly into the squishy mass.
The creature slapped backward with his right, swatting at her like a fly. Turning, he allowed the glamor to fall. The Mist rolled in, covering the area in a thick white blanket of fog. Without the glamor, he was hideous, covered in dark violet skin with blue veins crisscrossing his body. A black beady orb stared at her, its companion a dark reddish hole of ichor. Its mouth ringed will smaller tentacles snapped its powerful maw. Its body and arms were like a swarming mass of tentacles wrapping like vines to support him in a standing position, but constantly writhing and squirming.
“I summoned the Mist,” Oxivius’ voice came from behind her. “We are between worlds; your human is safe. What are you waiting for?”
Without a response or acknowledgement to Oxivius, Xlina charged in again her fists sheathed in a pulsing blue energy that crackled and popped like a downed power line. She led with a feint, her left deftly pulling short as the tentacle mass reached to entrap her. Dropping her weight, she pivoted to the right, moving below the mass of grasping tentacles and rising with a right cross that thundered into the creature’s center mass. A shock wave of nightmare energy cracked like thunder on the rubbery flesh, and scorched tentacles fell limply to the ground. She continued with her left, throwing all her body weight into a hook that came in high on the creature’s head, aiming for its good eye. The squishy mass buckled under her blow as the cephalopo
d accepted the hit in exchange for firm footing, bringing itself face to face with Xlina and extending both arms with writhing tentacles wrapping around her torso, crushing like a vice.
“Damn it, Ox,” She grunted as the tentacles burned at her hoody and found the flesh below. The creature’s raw strength was more than a match for her light bodyweight; it hoisted her in the air, robbing her of her footwork and positioning. She swung at the arms at an awkward angle and kicked at his chest, but she did no noticeable damage to the beast while suspended in the air. He was like a parent lifting a toddler during a tantrum, with Xlina swinging wildly but only landing ineffective, glancing blows.
“It’s not a tree,” she heard Oxivius chime in. “You don’t need multiple chops.”
He approached from behind, as slowly and calmly as if he were walking through the park. Cane in hand, he measured the creature like he was lining up a shot on a pool table and thrust forward between the mass of writhing flesh. Whatever he hit below must have been sensitive; the creature howled in agony, letting loose a wail that sounded like the screech of nails on a chalkboard. Just like that, she was falling, thudding hard on the ground as the cephalopod turned to face his other attacker.
“So there is something under there that hurts after all.” Xlina smiled. Springing to her feet, she lunged hard with her right with the nightmare energy sheathed around her hand, which was held open like a knife. With her fingers flexed and pointed, her strike dove in, pushing writhing tentacles aside and landing on a soft surface that ripped apart like a wet tissue. The warm, thick liquid from within the beast ran down her arm, staining it an inky blue as she pulled it back. The creature wailed again, sending its torso writhing.
“Oh no you don’t,” Oxivius said, firmly jabbing the end of his cane forward to the hole forming where the belly button should be. “There is a lady present.”
As much as her and Oxivius’ strikes had caused the creature to squeal, the sudden intrusion of the cane into his ink hole made those squeals seem tame. The cephalopod thrashed about widely, letting loose a deafening carnal shriek. Xlina’s hand raced to buffer her ears from the piercing howl, but Oxivius was unfazed. His free hand drew a symbol in the air before him that left a smoldering trail of thick black smoke. He spoke words drowned out by the wails of the cephalopod. The feel of magic was thick in the air.
Xlina had seen magic before. Her father was a druid after all. She had watched him on numerous occasions draw sigils and runes in the air and unleash spells. He used to say all magic had a smell that was unique to the user. Her father’s magic smelled like acorns and honey, with just a dash of cinnamon. Her brother’s smelled like pine needles and dirt. There was a witch in Boston whose magic smelled of hazelnut and coffee and made her wish for an iced latte with every spell. Oxivius’ spell smelled like death. Not just death, but rotting corpses that had been left in the sun too long. His magic hung in the air, choking her as he completed the sigil. Letting loose the cane with his other hand, he extended it outstretched toward the cephalopod. The shriek stopped, and there was silence for a moment as Oxivius’ steely blue eyes met the remaining dark orb of the cephalopod. Oxivius smiled. It was not a flirty or attractive smile. It was an evil smile that caused Xlina to shudder to the bone. She felt cold as a heavy darkness crept in from all around. It was as if the shadows themselves came alive to witness the spell. An audible pop broke the silence as the thick blue liquid burst from deep within the creature’s tentacled mass. Oxivius remained locked in his casting, the ash rings of his sigil burning a black void into the very air as his other hand remained outstretched. The sound of ripping tissue filled her ears, and without a thought, tears flowed from her eyes as the nature of Oxivius’ magic took hold.
It burst forth from the creature’s chest, a bluish black orb spilling liquid out like a pump as it shot through the air into Oxivius’ outstretched hand. The cephalopod froze and dropped to the ground in a mass of limp tentacles. Oxivius’ sigil faded from view, and Xlina noticed the darkness that had filled her sight starting to retreat back into the corners of the world, until the pristine white backdrop of the Mist was all that remained. He lowered his casting hand to his side and released a deep breath, looking at the organ in his extended hand curiously.
“You know, I thought it would be larger,” Oxivius said matter-of-factly. “The heart, I mean. All those writhing tentacles... I thought it would be larger.”
Xlina lay on the ground on all fours, half crawling. The cephalopod was dead. That was her goal, right? Then why did it feel like something thrice as evil stood over her now, watching her with a casual smile?
Oxivius grinned. “Consider yourself backed up.”
Chapter Four
The Man Who Breathes Death
She had been silent as Oxivius tucked the creature’s heart into her hoodie’s center pouch. She remained stoic as he ripped the cane from the creature’s ink hole and then lowered himself over the body. Drawing a knife from his pocket, he flipped out the blade and started carving. Cutting like he was trimming the Thanksgiving turkey, he poked and pried until he produced a blue-black sack that was squishy like a water balloon.
“Ink sac,” he commented. “Cephalopod ink is prized by witches and warlocks for scroll making. It holds magic much better than ink from Earth.”
“That makes sense,” Xlina replied absently. It was the first thing she had uttered since Oxivius’ spell had ripped the heart from the creature.
“Xlina,” he said, coming to a crouch before her so he could look into her vacant eyes. “Your plan was to pummel that thing to death, to save your neighbor and anyone else it might feast on. Was what I did any different?”
“You,” she stammered as his words sunk in. The anger filled her, breaking through her shock and denial. “You used black magic.”
“Necromancy,” he corrected, as if it made all the difference in the world. “I killed a monster with necromancy.”
“Black magic,” she repeated, the sense of betrayal flooding through her as she looked into his blue eyes, which stared at her as if he were looking into her thoughts. Nine hells. Oxivius was a necromancer; he very well could be looking at her soul. She shuddered.
“You would have punched, kicked, and scratched at that brute for another twenty minutes until you finally accumulated enough trauma for it to die a slow and brutal death,” he stated flatly. “Our methods vary, but our results are the same.”
“You used black magic,” she repeated firmly, as if that fact alone separated him from her.
“You’re right...you are no witch,” he said with a shake of his head before standing to fish his cane from the debris.
“The hells does that has to do with anything?” Xlina shot back.
“Intent, love, intent,” Oxivius continued, flipping a tentacle out of the way with the toe of his shoe. “All magic use is determined by intent. It’s the first thing any witch learns. A harmless charm or a love spell matters not. If the practitioner has malice in their heart, if they use even a good spell maliciously, then the source of their magic matters not. Magic is intent. Your intent tonight was to stalk that thing and take your revenge by ending its existence.”
“And your intent was so pure?” she shot back in defiance.
“I came out tonight to protect you.” He smiled, casting a sideways glance in her direction. “Remember the park? You offered riches, you offered justice, but I turned them both down. My only purpose tonight was to protect you, a favor granted for Valeria.”
“Yet here you stand, harvesting the bounty,” Xlina chided, shrugging off his moral quandaries. He was trying to trick her. Since her earliest days as a child, she had learned that users of the dark arts were masters of deception and half-truths.
“Yes, here I stand,” he agreed plaintively as he flipped his cane, making a sour face as he inspected the end that had violated the cephalopod. “Gathering the valuables... and handing them to you, the hunter of creatures, the savior of the faceless victims, who can’t
afford a sausage, forget the basic charms needed to detect a simple glamor.”
His words stung. It wasn’t just that he was a necromancer, a practitioner of the dark arts, it was that he was right. As he stood over her with an air of superiority, she just wanted to punch him in his smug mouth, but damn him to hell, he was right. She had been racing out to fight monsters with no preparation, no planning, resting on the notion that surprise alone would be enough, that her dreams would give her some advantage, but she had no plan. She wasn’t a bounty hunter, a witch, or warlock. She was just a Baku, eating dreams and moonlighting like some deranged, street fighting junkie. He stood before her, both superior and right in his reasoning, sounding just like Valeria. She hated him for it.
“Well don’t sulk, love,” he said in a patronizing voice. “We must get moving before the Mist clears.”
“You’re not human,” she blurted, stopping him in his tracks. He turned and looked at her, and for the first time that night, she felt as if she had the upper hand. “You slipped up before when talking about the creature. You said ‘he has been here a while... long enough to learn to drive one of YOUR automobiles.’”
“Oh dear,” he replied with a pensive look on his face. “Just a slip of the tongue, love.”
“No,” Xlina continued, rising to her feet. Her hands trembled. Her anger boiled just below the surface, but she was unsure if Oxivius was dangerous to her. She had no charms or amulets to protect her from magic. He could rip her heart from her chest with a gesture, and all the nightmare energy in the world couldn’t stop him. “You also struggled with the concept of an Uber; I think you thought it was a car until I mentioned the Subaru. Clearly you’re not from around here.”
“Is that what you think?” he asked with a chuckle. “I’m as human as the Barbie doll you brought to Pandora’s tonight, love.”
“Bullshit,” Xlina croaked back. “I have never seen anything like that felt anything like that, even in my darkest nightmares.”
The Infernal Games Page 6
