by Nazri Noor
Then it stopped. I slumped to the floor, spent and exhausted, relief flooding into my body as the pain slowly left. But I couldn’t move. Every part of me was limp, useless. I angled my head to get a better look at Agatha, to see what she was preparing for her coup de grace. Around me my friends were screaming, footsteps ringing across the stone floor as they raced to help me. They had very little time. I knew.
But I saw the look on Agatha’s face, and then I understood why she had stopped casting her horrible spell. Her eyes locked with something far above me, the very thing that had distracted her, its enormous shadow smothering me like a protective shroud.
Agatha Black screamed as a tremendous barrage of bright blue fire consumed her body, raining from above like an arcane orbital strike. All I could see was the faintest silhouette of her body once again being incinerated under a dazzling shower of flames, their plumes a beautiful, familiar azure color.
I tilted my head a little more, straining to see the source of the fire. An enormous dragon towered above me, its claws raking huge furrows in the Boneyard’s stone as it dug deep to anchor itself against the intense force of its own breath. On and on the fires poured from its throat, bathing Agatha Black in a relentless stream of flames as blue and as radiant as the dragon’s scales.
My mouth struggled to speak her name. “Tiamat?” So the Great Beasts had come after all? Or at least one of them. Then what was all that talk about refusing to help humanity?
The torrent of blue fire finally ended, the look of rage burning in the great dragon’s eyes fading into what seemed like exhaustion. It lowered its huge bulk, the ground trembling as it laid its serpentine neck to rest. The dragon locked eyes with me, something serene, almost friendly in its gaze. This wasn’t Tiamat. Its scales were a different color, and it was much smaller.
I wasn’t expecting the transformation. Like leaves blown by a gentle breeze, every scale on the dragon’s body wavered. Its body grew smaller, more compact, its proportions shifting until it was almost the size and shape of something humanoid. All of its scales gradually faded, and the dragon’s face shifted into that of a woman.
The shock returned enough energy to my body that I somehow managed to push myself off the ground, leaning in for a closer look.
“Prudence? Is that you?”
Chapter 32
“Dust? Are you okay?”
I looked away from Prudence long enough to nod at Herald. His fingers trailed along my skin lightly – trying to detect anything serious that Agatha might have broken.
“Nothing awful so far,” Herald muttered. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I tilted my head at Prudence. “Am I okay? Did you see that? Did you see her?”
“Not like we had a choice,” Herald said. “She cleared out a bunch of furniture when she transformed.”
I shook my head. “Who the hell even knew? But shit, someone needs to help her, too.”
Herald patted me on the shoulder, then nodded in Prudence’s direction. Gil was already at her side, transformed back into a human, his own clothes in disarray, just as hers were.
I looked down at myself, finding that my own outfit was pretty fucked up from casting shadowfire. “Damn it,” I mumbled. “Hey, Herald, is there any way you can use alchemy to reinforce clothes, make us like, I don’t know, uniforms that won’t tear to pieces when we use our magic? I mean look at the four of us.”
“What are we, superheroes? I’m not going to tailor you some damn costume. Also, shush, listen.”
I did. Gil and Prudence were mumbling to each other. I made out just enough of their words to understand.
“So this is why you and your grandma went to China?” Gil said, grasping Prudence by one hand, supporting her head and neck with the other.
Prudence nodded, smiling. “Kind of a pilgrimage. We were getting in touch with our roots. She said it was about time I learned who I really was. Crazy, right?”
“You should’ve told me,” Gil said, a smile lurking in the corners of his lips.
“I only just found out,” Prudence said. “And I guess I wanted it to be a surprise. You’re not mad, are you?”
“That you’re a dragon shifter? Please. I’ve never been more attracted to you.”
I watched the two of them kiss for as long as it wasn’t too impassioned and uncomfortable, but it got real sloppy real quick, so I looked away. “That’s adorable,” I said.
Herald nodded. “Imagine their babies.”
I narrowed my eyes. “So like, wolf-dragon shifters? Would that even work?”
He shrugged. “I’m an alchemist, not a zoologist. Biologist? Geez, who studies supernatural creatures?”
“Forget it. Help me up.”
Herald did, dragging me up so I could sit against him. I looked around us, at how just about everyone else looked exhausted, disheveled. The Boneyard was a mess – shattered dishes, ruined furniture, and our flatscreen was as good as dead.
At least we were safe. That was what mattered. Carver and Bastion looked to be deep in conversation, gesturing and pointing at the gap that Banjo had borked into our home. Romira and Royce had discovered some more beers in the fridge, and were sitting in a crumpled huddle, chugging. Mason was washing his face vigorously in the sink. And the corpse of what used to be Agatha Black twitched and crackled in a pyre of blue flames.
Herald held his hand up to my face. A flicker of violet energy flared up from his palm, then fizzled. “Damn it, I’m low on juice. We’ll get you all nice and healed up soon, I just need to rest and replenish my energies.”
“That would be prudent,” Carver announced. “I suggest that we all take time to recuperate before we go about the monstrous task of restoring our home to order. Now. Has anyone seen Banjo?”
That was right. The little mutt had been gone for the entirety of our fight with Agatha. But there he was now, standing just across the breach, staring intently at the gap. Something stirred deep in the pit of my stomach.
“Dude,” I said, nudging Herald. “Why’s Banjo doing that?”
“I dunno,” he said, his hand closing very hard around mine. “But we’ve got bigger problems just now.”
The blue flames that we thought were sending Agatha Black to her final rest had gone out. Somehow part of my mind had believed that dragonfire would be enough to cremate her – but her skeleton was moving of its own accord. Her skull rattled and clicked, her teeth chattering as she dragged her way across the floor. She was trying to say something.
Herald and I scrambled to our feet, but I lurched and cried out. Maybe Agatha’s breaking spell hadn’t done any permanent damage, but I definitely felt my ankle twist. I fell to the ground again, my eyes glued to the jerking, twitching abomination slowly approaching me.
Organs and muscles were already growing and threading their way back onto Agatha’s skeleton. Blood bloomed and rushed through her veins, returning life to the lioness. She pointed at me with one finger, and with her vocal cords rejuvenated, with most of her mouth restored, she uttered another word.
“Die.”
I gasped. Herald screamed. A bolt of black energy lanced from the end of Agatha’s finger, sailing directly for my heart – then dissipating as it struck an invisible force.
“Not happening,” Bastion said, his hand thrust out at me as he maintained his shield. “This ends here, Grandmother.”
With fleshless lips Agatha croaked and struggled to speak. “There are thirteen of us, foolish boy. Strike me down, and the others will come.”
“Then we’ll kill them, too,” Bastion said, his voice strong, like a Scion’s should be. Yet it trembled, because he was still a Brandt, still Agatha’s grandson.
“You will all die.” Agatha’s eyeballs rolled horribly in their sockets as she glared across the room. “All of you. And with your blood, thick with magic, my coven and I shall summon the Eldest once – ”
Banjo’s howl pierced the air. Even Agatha cut her gloating short, her eyes lolling towards Banjo. She st
retched her finger out again. Carver was quick to react, raising his own finger, his lips already muttering an incantation.
The world shattered. I thought it was the world, at least, a collision of magics between lich and witch, but the sound was something else. Shards of reality fell from the gap between the Boneyard and Valero as Banjo once again tore a hole in our dimension, a breach big enough to fit a truck.
This time a truck actually powered through.
Chapter 33
I don’t know what else to tell you. A massive eighteen-wheeler truck sailed through the hole, crossing from Valero directly into the Boneyard, an eight-legged horse painted on its side. Nothing that big and heavy should have been able to fly through the air like that. No amount of earthly velocity could have driven it so quickly and so powerfully. With an earth-shattering kaboom, the truck fell directly on top of Agatha Black.
We stared in silence. Banjo had ceased his howling, Carver’s incantations stopped mid-chant since his target was now, presumably, a pulverized smear across the Boneyard’s floor. Odin’s truck – Sleipnir, really, in the form of a motorized vehicle – rumbled as it revved once, then went silent. The All-Father, once again dressed in his flannel lumberjack casuals, stepped out of the cab.
Mason ran both his hands through his hair, his eyes flitting from the breach, to Banjo, then to Odin. “What in the holy hell just happened?”
Odin narrowed his eyes, glaring at Mason through slits. “You are welcome.”
Carver pulled at his hair, staring wordlessly at the gap he’d so painstakingly spent the day trying to seal over. He slumped to the ground. Banjo bounded over and licked his face.
“Whatever happened to staying out of mankind’s business?” I said. Herald elbowed me in the ribs, like that was going to stop me. “Why the sudden sympathy?”
“Because of this.” Odin whirled on his heel, his arm held out behind him like he was holding something long and huge. He thrust his arm out, fingers spreading, and the spear Gungnir appeared in the air before him, flying at terrifying speed towards the only sofa the Boneyard had left. Gungnir pierced the couch’s cushions, sending stuffing flying, but also eliciting a howling, pained cry. Blood trickled down the spear’s shaft as Odin’s target flickered out of invisibility.
“Loki,” I growled. “He was here the whole time? He never left?”
“Watching, waiting,” Odin said. “Doubtless to observe the ceremonies. As I’m sure he has gloatingly informed you many, many times, he is very fond of festivities and entertainment, especially when the chaos stems from his own doing. Isn’t that right, little trickster?”
“Please,” Loki gasped, clutching at the spear in his chest with both hands. “All-Father, please.”
Odin took one step, then reappeared right by Loki’s side, his arms folded. So Odin could teleport? Hell, he could probably do a ton of other things. I mean – All-Father, right? Good to know. Loki shuddered, wriggling away, at first, then yowling when he realized he was pinned in place.
“Mercy, All-Father,” Loki stammered. “Please.”
“Yes. Now you beg for mercy, trickster, when I know that you will betray me the very moment I let you slip from my fingers. No. It is time you and I had a very long conversation.”
“Anything. Please, anything but this agony.”
“Perhaps I will start by seizing some of your power, to see whether it’s worth redistribution,” Odin said. “It is impressive, what you have built over the decades. But this is what happens when you have access to too much, trickster.”
Oh, shit. Did that mean Happy, Inc. was going under? Could I live without their burgers, I wondered. Could Banjo live without Puppy Yum biscuits? And could Artemis live without Snacky Yum-Yums?
Wait a minute. Artemis. My agreement with Apollo, the favor he wanted me to fulfill.
“All-Father,” I called out. “A favor. Loki’s actions have affected us all, and I think we only deserve to be granted a small request at his expense.”
“Was a tour of headquarters not enough?” Loki spat.
Odin held out a finger. Loki flinched. “Careful. Now, mortal. Speak again. What is it that you ask?”
“Loki’s domicile is enormous. It’s not just headquarters, he told me as much. I happen to know a goddess who was affected by Loki’s actions, enough that she’s been left without her own domicile. Vulnerable. Will you help?”
“A plot of land, then?” Odin said, a twinkle in his eye. I had a feeling this would work. Odin fancied himself a kind of savvy entrepreneur, what he saw as the equivalent of creativity and leadership in a world with new gods. This was his chance to play real estate agent. “A small domicile. A pocket dimension to start. Yes. Far be it for the All-Father to let a sister goddess languish in the streets.”
Odin muttered softly to himself, gesturing over Gungnir still lodged in Loki’s chest, threads of pale blue light following his fingers. The wisps wove together into what appeared to be a tapestry, which solidified into a piece of parchment. Odin gestured again, and droplets of Loki’s blood splattered against the parchment. Loki whimpered, but the spell didn’t seem to cause him any pain – at least not physically. Odin cast his hand out. The parchment rolled up into a scroll, then appeared in my hand. Huh. Convenient.
“Present this deed to the goddess. Artemis, is it not? Tell her that her new home comes with Loki’s compliments.”
Loki sat silently, but his expression spoke volumes. His eyes burned into me, glaring, vengeful.
“Excellent,” Odin said. “Now, I will take my leave. Loki and I have much catching up to do.” Odin grasped the end of his spear and pulled. Loki threw his head back and screamed as fresh blood spurted from his wound. “Time to go.”
Loki clutched his chest, breathing heavily, his forehead glistening with sweat. All at once the agony fell from his features, and he grinned. “Never.”
I didn’t even have time to blink. The trickster god was gone in an instant.
“Every time,” Odin bellowed. “Every bloody time, the scoundrel slips from my fingers. Very well. If Loki wishes to run, then the All-Father will follow. A Wild Hunt it is then. Sleipnir!”
The truck was gone, in its place a majestic horse, its mane flowing and white, each of its eight legs muscular and sleek. The ground thundered as Sleipnir galloped towards his master. Odin mounted his steed, the curious casuals he wore transformed into a suit of shining armor.
“You. Lich. You may keep your little hound. I hereby release him.” Odin pointed a finger at Banjo. The blue rune on Banjo’s forehead glowed, then vanished. He yipped happily, unharmed. “Now,” Odin said, “the Hunt begins.” Sleipnir reared with a great, thunderous neigh, and in a flash, horse and master were both gone.
I turned, searching for the remains of the great witch Agatha Black. But she, too, was gone.
Chapter 34
The good news: no one was dead. The bad news: that included Agatha Black. A generous dose of shadowfire, an actual dragon’s breath, and a good and thorough trampling from Sleipnir himself hadn’t been enough to destroy even one of her copies.
Next time, I thought, we would just have to work faster. Never let up, and never give her time to recover, to heal from a constant barrage of attacks. Next time, we would stop Agatha Black forever.
And yet – and yet I had to remember that there were thirteen of her.
A problem for another day, I told myself. It was more of a lie, really, because the more I avoided the question, the more it thrashed inside my chest, like a wriggling, corrupted parasite. I’d find the answers eventually. But I know I owe you answers right now, at least for what happened to the Boneyard.
Asher was fine. Or he was going to be, at least going by Carver’s diagnosis. If I was going to believe anyone when it came to an analysis of magical eyesight, it was the undead dude who decided that mystic vision was worth the price of gouging out one of his own eyeballs.
Sterling had comforted Asher throughout the entire time we battled Agatha Blac
k, providing him with small doses of his vampiric blood, which I was told was supposed to create a numbing, even soothing effect. It was good to know that Asher wasn’t suffering, and that his eyes were going to be just fine. The surest evidence of that was seeing Sterling head into Asher’s bedroom with an armload of nudie magazines.
“The hell are those?” I said.
“Never you mind,” Sterling said. “Boobies, if you must know. Isn’t it adorable?” He sniffled, dramatically brushing one finger under his eye. “Our little baby’s all grown up.”
I shook my head and stepped away. Sterling was a pervert and a deviant, but he had a good heart. He was a good friend to Asher, and when Asher was ready to mingle with the rest of us again, I hoped to be the same.
Royce and Romira actually stuck around long enough to help out with the Boneyard’s reconstruction, at least for sealing the breach and closing up the many, many tiny cracks caused by all the rumbling.
Carver’s demeanor might have had something to do with how much they helped. It’s rough when the man you look up to at the end of the day – the one who’s supposed to be barking orders and always knows which end is up – looks like he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown. At least he had Banjo for comfort.
Prudence’s transformation had taken a lot out of her, which meant that she had little mana to contribute renovation-wise. Gil spent a large part of the day rearranging what was left of our furniture and putting things upright again.
Mason lived up to his name, too. He wasn’t a mage, and couldn’t help with sealing the breach, but he put his hands to good use, fixing up the cabinets, putting fallen bookcases back together, and sweeping up broken dishes.
He was the one who found Vanitas in the rubble. He’d been swatted away yet again during the fight with Agatha. Mason spotted him somewhere among the Boneyard’s myriad corridors, lying shuddering in a crater of shattered stone. Vanitas didn’t even complain when Mason delivered him to me by hand. He was too weak for that. But he was fine, and I knew he’d get better. He’d emerged from the experience mostly unscarred, apart from a few new scratches along his blade.
