by Kizzie Hayes
“Why?” Scott said. He stood beside her. He was shaken but he was calm. “Why would Mia do that to me?”
“I don’t know,” Fred said. “I don’t know the woman. Because she could? Who can say?”
“Doesn’t matter now,” he sighed. Where are we headed?”
“Mataso,” she said, hearing the word ‘we’.
“You think that’s where your gemstone is?”
“I do.”
“Looks like we’re gonna have company,” he said pointing to the radar.
“Shit!”
*****
“Get Rikki up here,” she said as she steered and throttled.
She had been heading to the island’s southern harbor. She thought to sail due west and then north to try and hide in the island’s shadow, but the other blip started to steam fast. Whoever they were, they were no coincidence, and they weren’t shy about it.
“What is it?” Rikki asked as she reached the bridge.
“I don’t know,” Fred said. “That thing has been dogging us all night.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t know!”
“Easy enough to find out,” Scott said.
He keyed something into the nav-pad and beneath the blip lines of info appeared.
KPN – Najin –AK-630
“What does that mean?” Erica asked.
“Wizards.” Scott said shaking his head and pulling out his phone. “You really should come into the twenty-first century . . . let’s see, Janes Ships . . . ah, here we – holy shit.”
“What?”
“KPN,” he said. “Korean People’s Navy. That’s a bloody North Korean frigate.”
“You’re crazy,” Erica laughed. “Korea is like thousands of miles away. Why would they have a boat way out here?”
“Four thousand miles to be precise,” he said working his phone. “And a Soviet frigate is not a boat.”
“I still say you’re crazy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Fred sang. “What matters is that they are there, and we are out-gunned.”
“And it’s coming right at us,” Erica sang back.
“Well,” Scott said. “You’re supposed to be witches. Can’t you just send them away like you did Mia?”
“Mia,” Fred replied. “Is all of a hundred and twenty pounds. That boat’s a little bit bigger.”
“It’s a ship,” Erica corrected.
“Well do something!”
“I suggest that we run,” Erica said. “I can make this baby fly.”
“Wait,” Fred said. “We’re so close. You guys run. I’m going to search the island.”
“How you gonna get there?” Scott asked. The two witches looked at him. “Oh, right. But can this little thing outrun a combat ship?”
“Watch me, darling,” Erica said taking the wheel.
“I’d rather not,” he replied. “I’d rather go with Fred.”
“Oh no . . .” Fred protested.
She argued. He was adamant. She gave in. She took his hand and led him to the aft deck. Erica turned in a huff, set the ship due west and gunned it. Fred and Scott almost lost their footing. Fred wrapped her arms around him. When they got their balance, Scott was amazed at the yacht’s speed.
He was also amazed that the witch was holding him so close and so tight. And holding her back he was more amazed by the feel of her body. That frock-coat had hidden her well. Beneath she felt so very slender and yet very firm. Her breasts were much more than he would have imagined and the small of her back told of a wasp waist. Her hair smelled of flowers and her warmth crept through her clothes and seeped onto his skin.
And then he realized that it wasn’t her warmth he was feeling. The two of them were suddenly encased in a pink translucent membrane. The darkness beyond seemed so far away.
“Okay,” she said. “Hold me tight. This is going to be weird.”
Weird was not the word.
He suddenly felt the deck fall slowly away from his feet as they rose. Through the pink haze he saw a full moon glowing brightly above, its reflection dappling on the dark water below. Then the water began to glide quickly beneath them and the yacht was out of sight. The leading face of their strange bubble began to glow yellowy-orange while behind them thin blue-white vapor trailed. Then the moon glow disappeared and he saw land rushing beneath them. They slowed. The colors surrounding their cocoon faded, and the pink bubble melted away. He found his feet on dry ground. The cool of the pre-dawn air enveloped him, but the warmth of her body remained. And for a moment so did she.
He was softer than she had imagined. Fred had first seen him in nothing but cut-off shorts and a baseball cap, and he looked sculpted; as if his body was the handiwork of years of personal trainers. But now, holding him in the cool tropical night, she felt him to be more than just a managed and manicure thing. He was real and he was human and he was alive. She could feel his heart pounding and she leaned in to hear more.
And then she found herself.
“Well then,” she said pulling away and fixing her coat. “We’re here.”
“Did we, um, did we fly?”
“No, actually,” she said. “We stayed still. The earth rotated beneath us. You see, the real trick to that is – oh never mind. We have a pomegranate to find.”
Mataso is a small, undeveloped volcanic island, sparsely populated but not deserted. They had landed midway up the eastern leeward side of the mountain. The forest was thick, but not dense, and the opal led Fred down the slope toward the white sand beaches. The jungle came alive with bird-calls as the sun rose, and while they often heard the flutter of wings they saw no creatures.
They reached a small clearing from where they could see the coast in the mountain shadow. They paused and scanned the idyllic scene below. They could smell the salt air and thought they could hear the surf gently washing the shore.
“So beautiful,” Fred said softly.
Without thinking she found her head resting on his shoulder. She quickly pulled away.
“That’s weird,” he said. “I can almost hear the waves.”
“Mm, hypnotic.”
He was silent a moment. She was about to move on when his hand stopped her.
“Where are the birds?” he asked.
Fred looked up at him, then to the sky and then to the beach. Then they both stared at the two armed soldiers standing stark against the white sands.
*****
They crept down the slope. Like any other soldiers, the men were dressed in camouflage, bristling with packs and gear and carrying nasty looking weapons. On their sleeves Fred could barely make out a rectangular red patch, and they were Asian.
“Who are they,” Scott asked. “And what are they doing here?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Fred said. “And I don’t want to find out. We go this way.”
She led them north along the slope, keeping to the forest. But to their dismay they spotted more soldiers. They seemed to be stationed at intervals. Fred and Scott kept to their trek. The opal was getting warmer against her skin. They reached a place where two more soldiers stood, and the opal nearly flared.
“It’s there,” she whispered. “Somewhere on the beach right there.”
“I wish you hadn’t turned my pistol into a snake,” he said.
She looked at him, looked at the guards, then looked at the others within shouting distance. Scott shrugged.
“I still don’t get what they’re doing here,” he said. “It’s a hunch that they’re not conducting exercises.”
“They’re waiting,” Fred said. “For me. Or someone like me.”
“Why?”
“They must want what we want.”
“Huh? How would they know? And why would they want it?”
“I suppose,” she sighed. “That’s what I need to find out.”
“You’re not thinking of going down there?”
“That is where the pomegranate is,” she said. “And it doesn’t look as tho
ugh they are going anywhere soon.”
“They’ll cut you to pieces!”
“You keep forgetting--”— “
“I know,” he said, “you’re a witch.”
“Right,” she said with a smile. “Now I need you to be my lifeline.”
She took off the necklace and dropped it around his neck. She explained what he had to do in case there was trouble.
“You’re expecting no trouble?” he asked.
“Suppose not,” she said. “Just, if you hear me shout ‘pineapple’ you go.”
“That your safe-word?”
“Oh shut up.”
She made her way to the edge of the clearing. He thought that he saw the slightest shimmer in the air around her. Fred waited in the foliage until the sun had risen high enough to light the beach. The two soldiers squinted. They spoke a little. One handed the other a candy bar. She took a breath and made her move. She materialized between them.
“Halu jo-eun sonyeon,” she said brightly in her best Korean. “Aleumdaun nai.”
The one fumbled his candy. They both gaped at her. She smiled. They leapt away and leveled their weapons.
“Jeongii!” candy man shouted. “Dangsin-i eodie seo!”
She raised her hands and gave him a pouty look. The other was speaking rapidly into his radio. The beach came alive as soldiers rushed from both sides. In a moment, Fred was surrounded by twelve men, all pointing their guns at her. More were on their way.
“Sonyeon, sonyeon,” she said shaking her head. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you about a circular firing-squad?”
Someone shouted something that she couldn’t understand. When she didn’t move he repeated himself. Someone made a gesture and she understood. She raised her hands to the back of her head. A leader stepped forward. He slung his rifle and began to frisk her. She understood the need, but when he got to her breasts he lingered. He cupped them and grinned.
“Dwaeji!” she cried slapping his face.
He raised his fist and Fred made her move.
She heard the first shot fire as she leapt high over their heads. Someone cried out in pain, and then her shield was riddled with ricocheting bullets. She could feel the little pings against her flesh. She heard someone bark a command as she somersaulted. The firing ceased. She landed twenty yards from the soldiers. They had taken a stance, some kneeling, some standing and all of them with their weapons trained on her. She saw one of them lying in the sand clutching his leg.
“Hangbog!” the leader shouted.
She flipped him off. He shouted, and the sand before her feet erupted with a short burst of gunfire. Fred pointed one arm at the sun and her other at the man who shot at her. With a flip of her wrist, the rifle flew into the sea. She looked at the leader dead in the eyes. He gave another shout and the guns blazed.
They were careful, she thought as she strode toward them. They were aiming at her legs. They wanted her alive. She waded through the hail of bullets and one by one, using the power of the sun she neutralized them. There were four left before they stopped shooting. Fred paused and smiled. She pointed to the commander, but even as she did she saw him smile back. Then she heard the thrumming of a helicopter.
She turned to see the monster bearing down at her, and thought that was a little too much. A rocket launched from its side. She rolled her eyes and vaulted out of its path. But even as she flew the nosecone burst open, and she suddenly saw a brilliant sparkling web fill the air before her. And for just a moment she was captivated by its glittering, multi-colored beauty.
And then the net wrapped her. She was instantly tangled and as she thrashed in its clutches, she felt her powers drain. She began to plummet to the beach.
“Pineapple,” she said breathlessly just before she was hit.
*****
When Fred leapt out from the surrounding soldiers, Scott felt that she had everything in control. He marveled at her grace under fire, and he marveled more as the bullets bounced off of her. He watched in wonder as she pointed her right arm to the sky. Streams of light flowed into her and through her and out of her left hand, and he watched in glee as her assailants were laid low.
He saw her turn and grin as the chopper approached. She bound into the air and he was certain that somehow the helicopter would come crashing down. His heart froze when it was Fred who fell.
Wrapped in some kind of mesh that had exploded from the missile, she simply caved, plummeted and hit the beach with a thud. The helicopter hovered. A line was lowered and the netting attached. Fred was hauled toward the aircraft even as it turned and sped away. There was a collective cheer from the soldiers.
Scott’s frozen heart began to beat wildly. He turned and fled into the jungle. His brain was gripped in fear and he ran and ran until he ran into a tree. Dazed and confused he lay sprawled. From far off he heard the soldiers closing in. From farther off he heard the chopper fade away. Above him birds cried and cawed madly. He found his wits. He staggered to his feet, and clutching the jewel he began chanting over and over,
“There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” He found himself back on board the Sea-Esta.
Erica had tended to the cut on his face. She had to slap him before he calmed his babbling and was able to give her a full account of what he saw.
“A net,” Erica pondered.
“Yeah,” Scott replied. “It was all sparkly and shiny and it followed her in the air. It was – it was like this weird--”— “
“Web.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Okay then,” she said handing him a cup. “Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Scotch.”
“Oh.” He downed it. “Now what do we do? I mean, we’re going to rescue her, right? Right?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Erica!”
“Oh, alright,” she sighed. “I managed to lose the frigate, so they’re probably headed back to the island to collect their prize.”
“But why would they want her?”
“They don’t want her,” Erica said. “They want the pomegranate. A witch would be a bonus. But why they would want either?”
“That’s what Fred wanted to find out.”
“Well,” she said. “If I am going to wander about on a tropical island, I should at least dress the part.”
“Huh?”
Erica paused. She looked at him.
“Scott?” she said so charmingly. “How comfortable are you with your gender identity?”
Fred woke in pain. Her head throbbed mercilessly. She was soaked in sweat, she shivered with an unearthly cold and her wrists burned. As her senses returned, she found that she was outside lying face down on the ground. She was still wrapped in that damned net, but she was also bound. Her hands were tied with rough hemp rope over her head, a pole ran between them. The pole lay across her back and threaded through her bound ankles. There were voices all around her speaking Korean.
She moaned. A moment later a foot kicked her ass and she wailed.
“Awake I see,” someone said. “Finally.”
Fred opened her eyes and saw a pair of slim black jack-boots.
“Jjong-eulo!” a woman’s voice snapped.
Fred cried out. Her arms and legs were yanked up. The pole began to rise in short jerks, and with each new tug she wailed as her shoulders and thighs bore the weight of her body. She writhed, but that only brought more agony. Her back was arched backwards and as her breasts jutted forward, her blouse split open, buttons falling to the sand. They kept pulling her up and up until she was face to face with her captor.
The woman was a fair skinned oriental woman in combat fatigues. Her face was delicate but stern, her thin eyebrows furrowed.
“I am Commander Zhao,” she said in English.
“So nice to meet you,” Fred said. “I am--”— “
“I know who and what you are. Where is the jewel?”
“What jewel—ahhhhhhhhh!”
&nb
sp; A riding crop whistled through the air and lashed her breast.
“On the beach,” Fred said groaning. “Somewhere. But I don’t know where.”
The woman raised her crop again.
“You can torture me all you like,” Fred said. “I cannot tell you what I don’t know! Commander.”
Zhao lowered her arm and smiled. She took Fred’s jaw in her fingernails.
“You think me stupid,” she said. “Were I to torture you, wizards worldwide would hear your cries and flock to your rescue, and I have but one Lilith Web. But I know your kind. Your greatest flaw is your sympathetic nature. Observe, please.”
Fred grunted as her legs were lowered some. From the new angle, she had a full view of the jungle encampment. There were a few low fires in the clearing and several soldiers grinning at her. Then she saw another woman. She was tan skinned and lovely. She wore a simple colorful wrap, and she was bound with her arm and legs spread between two pillories, a look of terror in her eyes.
“Who . . .” Fred began.
“I’m not sure,” the commander said strolling to the helpless girl. “One of the locals my men gathered. Pretty, don’t you think?”
“Commander,” Fred cried. “She is an innocent! She has nothing to do with--”— “
“And she will remain innocent if you tell me what I want to know.”
“Commander--”— “
The girl screamed as the commander tore away the flimsy garb. The men laughed along with Zhao. The vile woman began tormenting the girl with little slaps here and there about her naked body.
“If her misery doesn’t move you,” Zhao said smiling. “There are more like her.”
*****
“Alright,” Fred cried. “Let the girl go and I’ll help you.”
“Promise?” Zhao asked.
“Yes,” Fred said.
“A witch’s word cannot be taken back.”
“I promise, you bitch!”
Zhao laughed long and hard. Fred heard something in the woman’s laughter. Then there was a slight stir of a breeze around the witch and even as Fred looked the woman’s hair started to fall from her bun. Fred gaped.
