by H. D. Gordon
As I dove out of the way of another launched lightning bolt, a news helicopter appeared above the magical-barrier dome over our heads, the occupants choosing to battle the storm in the hopes that they might get the exclusive story. Lightning from the sky struck perilously close to the aircraft, and the pilot jerked to the side in overcompensation, but somehow remained in flight.
Luckily for me, the helicopter’s arrival served as a distraction to Boyce, whose aura clearly displayed his pleasure at the prospect of a wider audience to his grand stand. A fleeting curiosity about how the citizens of Grant City would feel about the Masked Maiden after this whole fiasco was finally over occurred to me, but I pushed this aside quickly. Public opinion would matter little if I was dead.
“Sit down!” Boyce thundered, spittle flying from his lips as he whipped his charged arms toward me. This time, I was not quite fast enough, and the electricity slammed into my shoulder like a linebacker, lifting me off my feet and sending me flying back through the air. I landed with a jaw-jarring thud, the jolt traveling up from my tailbone to the top of my head. The staff flew from my hands, clattering to the pavement somewhere behind me. I groaned lowly, taking a borrowed moment to absorb the agony. As I did so, Leonard Boyce moved in on my friends.
“Pay attention, Masked Maiden,” Boyce said, though it was difficult to hear him over the ringing in my ears. Through the foggy haze that was my vision, I saw that Boyce’s eyes had gone white, as if a sheen of thick milk coated them. Combined with the electrified white hair sticking out of his head, he looked certifiably insane, barely even human.
I pulled myself up to my hands and knees, teeth gritted, head pounding, and heart jumping in my chest. The taste of iron was thick on my tongue, the smell of char and fear permeating the air. I focused on the auras of my loved ones, because there was little else I could make out in the darkness with my sketchy sight.
“Which one?” Boyce asked. “Which one means the most to you?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a thin line of drool that was tinted with blood. I hung my head and spat at the ground, gathering my strength to see if I could stand.
My feet were almost beneath me, just one hand bracing me on the ground instead of all fours, when Boyce whipped his head around and wagged an admonishing finger at me. He crouched and touched the tips of his fingers to the wet, dark surface of the bridge. A flash of electricity travelled across the concrete toward me, snaking forward with unavoidable speed. I tried to stand so that just the rubber soles of my boots would absorb the energy, but wasn’t quick enough. The electricity shot up the fingers that were bracing me on the concrete, travelled up my arm to my shoulder, and out across my chest. My body flopped involuntarily to the ground, my back jerking in uncontrollable spasms.
“Which one?” Boyce asked again, returning to my bound group of friends. “The handsome rich boy?” He stood before Caleb with sparks flying from his fingers. Caleb’s blue eyes glared back at him despite the terror that was dominant in his aura.
Boyce slid to the left, standing before Raven. “The dark-haired vixen?”
He laughed, shook his head, and slid to the left once more. “Or maybe it’s the handsome soldier?” He looked back at me and jerked his head toward Thomas, eyes white and soulless. “Am I getting warmer?”
I groaned and rolled over onto my stomach, fighting tooth and nail against the darkness swimming at the edges of my vision. I tried to push up on my arms, but my muscles were not responding properly. I coughed and choked on a thick wad of phlegmy blood, pulled my knees up in hopes of getting them beneath me.
“Ah,” Boyce said, coming to a stop before Sam. His head tilted as he eyed her closely. “I’m going to put my money on the nerdy best friend. I watched you together. I’ve spent the past week gathering information, and I think it’s her you love the most. I think she holds the number one top spot.” He grinned back at me. “Am I right?”
I’m not sure what I looked like, though beaten would probably be an apt fit, but I summoned my strength and pushed myself up.
“Boyce…” I said, holding out a hand. “Please.”
Boyce’s mad grin stretched almost to his ears. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and placed a sparking hand to Sam’s chest, lighting her up like a Christmas tree.
I was sure every corner of Grant City must’ve heard my scream.
***
In this moment—the worst of all the moments in a crappy life of them—the world slowed and the fogged cleared enough to present the scene in sharp relief. Samantha’s eyes widened to the size of full moons, her body jerked and thrashed beneath the magic black bonds snaked around her. A sizzling sound drowned out all the others, and smoke rose from the center of her periodic table t-shirt, where Boyce was still electrocuting her. Horribly, her aura began to blink on and off like a dying light bulb. A bit of foam bubbled from her mouth as her shoes jumped spasmodically against the concrete.
She looked at me, our gazes locking, her blue eyes conveying so much without words or actions. I felt something sharp and jagged digging into my chest, tearing a wound for which there would be no healing.
All of this happened between the flaps of a hummingbird’s wings, and I found it quite absurd that the shattering of entire worlds could be done within such a timeframe.
When Samantha’s aura blinked out for good and her head lolled on her neck, Boyce removed his hand, and the body of my best friend crumpled to the ground. Rage washed through me like something unholy, filling my muscles with strength they didn’t have, powering my actions like rocket fuel. My mind had shut down, had stopped working in tandem with the blinking out of Sam’s aura, and no thoughts could penetrate the fury flooding through my soul.
All of the surroundings dropped away as if melting; the bridge, the chopper hovering above, the others still trapped under the bonds, the hellhounds sitting nearby like canine sentries. My vision tunneled in on Boyce like a heat-seeking missile, and before another thing could transpire, I found myself standing behind him, my hands coming up and gripping either side of his head.
Electricity shot up my fingers and palms, scorching me with pain I was beyond feeling. I twisted my hands sharply, and this was followed by the satisfying snap! of the bones in Boyce’s neck. His body went limp instantly, the sparks in his eyes and at the ends of his fingers blinking out one final time. The glow of his aura died, and I let his limp body fall to the ground.
I stood watching as the energy he’d stolen from the city leaked out of him like a living liquid. It seeped into the ground and exploded outward. The lights on the Grant City Bridge began to flick on one after the other.
Silence fell as the scene took on the orange glow provided by the bridge lights. I could hear alarms sounding as electricity reached them, and that familiar buzz rebooting in the distance, but none of this could be consciously processed.
I stumbled over to where Samantha lay unmoving on the concrete, fell down beside her body, and tried to comprehend.
Her blue eyes were open, but unseeing. Her strawberry-blond hair was fanned out around her head like a halo, but the halo of her aura was no longer there. The periodic table adorning her t-shirt had been burned unrecognizable, and the smell of her burning flesh still hung in the air.
I pulled her onto my lap, not understanding. I shook her gently, ran a hand over her head.
“Wake up, Sam,” I whispered, though some part of my uncomprehending mind surely knew this was useless. Hot tears spilled over my lids and tracked down my face, the agony of my heart far worse than any pain in my body.
“Please, Sammy,” I whispered. “Please, wake up. I’m so sorry. Please, wake up.”
Sam did not stir. She stared sightlessly up at the finally calming night sky, where the stars stared back unalarmed. I kissed her forehead and pulled her close, unable to let go of what was already gone.
I refused to accept this was happening, prayed that it was some nightmare from which I would awaken. Surely
I had not lost her. Surely Sam was not really dead.
But auras don’t lie, nor does the lack of one.
CHAPTER 33
I gathered Sam’s body in my arms and stood, my muscles running on pure adrenaline. I could sense the others around me, unsure what to do, approaching slowly, as one might a wild lion.
This was wise on their part. I had somewhere to be, and to try and stop me would’ve been foolish on their end. I think Thomas called out to me, and I was sure I heard Matt sobbing in the background, but none of that mattered. Both Boyce and my best friend were dead, but this was not over.
Not by a long shot.
I kept walking, limping along with Sam in my arms while the lights of Grant City came slowly to life in the distance, scattering the shadows in the city and transferring them to my soul.
“Saleos, you bastard,” I mumbled. “Show yourself. I want to make a deal.”
I took two more steps and found myself somewhere else completely. The bridge was gone, so were my friends, save for the lifeless Sam still cradled in my arms. Now, I stood in an empty, old school diner, complete with bucket-seated booths and chrome-colored barstools.
A woman with a checkered apron and long nails stood behind the counter, chewing gum and reading a gossip magazine. She looked up at me and down at Sam’s body in my arms with little interest, and then turned her attention back to the magazine.
Oldies music floated out of a nearby jukebox, and the smell of bacon reached my nose, but for what might have been the first time in my life, I wasn’t in the least hungry.
“Hello, little Halfling,” said a familiar voice behind me. I turned to see Saleos seated at one of the booths, a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon steaming on the table before him. A fork and knife were clutched in his hands, and a paper napkin was tucked into the collar of his expensive shirt, protecting his fitted suit from any splatters of food.
His dark hair was parted to one side and combed neatly. He gestured to the seat across from him with the knife. “Have a seat, won’t you?” he asked. “You can set Samantha down anywhere. She won’t be harmed.”
My head nearly exploded with these casually uttered words, and had I not been holding the body of my best friend at the moment, I likely would’ve hurdled the table and throttled the bastard to death.
“Won’t be harmed?” I growled. “She’s dead.” My voice broke on that last word. I’d watched her aura fade away myself, and still could not accept it.
The Demon took a bite of his pancakes and spread his hands. “Leonard Boyce was quite determined to get every bang for his buck, I’ll give him that.”
“I should send you back to hell,” I said, the words coming out flat and matter of fact.
Saleos held up a finger, fork still clutched in his hand. “You could try, but I thought you wanted to make a deal. Or did I mishear your summons?”
I swallowed hard. “Bring her back,” I said. “I’ll trade my soul, but you have to bring her back. Can you do that?”
Saleos grinned, baring two rows of straight white teeth. “For the soul of a Halfling? Of course I can do that.”
I wasn’t at all sure why a Halfling soul would be worth more than any other soul, but it didn’t seem to matter in the least at the moment.
“Then quit wasting time,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
“Not so fast, sweetheart,” Saleos crooned, clearly enjoying my agony. “There are details to be ironed out, dotted lines to sign, you understand.”
He set his utensils down and snapped his fingers at the girl behind the counter. Sighing and popping the gum in her mouth, the girl set down her magazine and came to clear the table. Once she was done, Saleos removed the napkin from his collar, wiped his hands, and gestured once more to the seat across the table from him.
“Please,” he said, “set Samantha down and have a seat. Let’s have a civilized chat, shall we?”
It took more will power than I thought I possessed to obey this request. Fighting the grief that so badly wanted to take over me, I gently set Sam’s body down in a nearby booth, arranging her so that she looked almost as if she were sleeping. With legs that felt ready to buckle, I slid into the seat across from Saleos, my hands shaking as I clutched them together in my lap beneath the table.
“Ah, now that’s better, isn’t it?” Saleos said. He adjusted his suit jacket and leaned back comfortably. “You want to make a trade, then? Your soul for the life of this human? Is that right?”
I spoke through gritted teeth. “You know it is.”
Saleos smiled, waved a hand. A stack of white papers appeared on the table before us, a fancy black pen lying neatly across the top. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and produced a pair of reading glasses, which he opened and placed gingerly on the end of his nose.
“This is the standard deal,” he said. “You should look it over, and take your time. There’s no rush. Time moves differently in the diner. No one even knows you’re gone, and once the papers are signed, there are no amendments, no loopholes, no reconsiderations. What’s done will be done. Are you still with me, little Halfling?”
My hands were curiously steady as I reached out and pulled the stack of papers toward me. I flipped to the first page, taking the fancy pen into my writing hand. I began to read, but a bout of coughs wracked me, and a fine spray of blood dotted the thick stack of papers.
“Oh, yes,” said Saleos, running his tongue out over his lips. “We won’t be needing that any more, now will we?” He placed a cold hand over mine and gripped it tight. I moved to jerk my hand away, but before I could, he released me.
He snapped his fingers again at the diner girl. She brought me a glass of water that I didn’t want to trust. But I was suddenly thirsty enough to drink the ocean, and I downed it in three gulps.
I ran a hand over my mouth and took what felt like the first full breath in a week. “The Curse?” I said. “You just took it away?”
Saleos inclined his head, his deceptively handsome face smug. “You’re welcome.”
With this, I set about reading the contract, but the specifics of the deal hardly mattered. As long as Sam would get to live, I was going to sign the damn thing.
Then this Demon and I could settle our differences in hell.
***
I pressed the pen to the paper and scrawled my name atop the line, the ink glowing silver before fading to ordinary black.
Saleos flipped the page and pointed to another line. “And here, if you please.”
I lowered the tip of the pen. Initialed and signed. Initialed and signed. Each time the ink flashed silver then went black, and I’d seen enough magic in my life to know that each stroke was binding.
Finally, we reached the last page, where the last line waited to be filled. I signed it without hesitation and placed the pen back down on the table beside the contract.
Saleos gathered the pages up in his hands, his eyes gleaming like a child with a fist full of candy, and the contract disappeared into thin air in the same fashion in which it had arrived.
“I have to say, Miss Fae, it has been a real pleasure doing business with you. There’s only one last thing we have to do, and the deal is sealed. Are you ready?”
My eyes were narrowed to slits. “Let’s finish it,” I said. “And then you bring her back.”
“Of course,” replied Saleos in his infuriatingly cool manner. “Not to worry. The deal binds me same as it does you. All I need now is to shake your hand, and we’re done.”
He held his hand out to me over the table, palm open and waiting. I reached out, but paused before placing my hand into his. I glanced back at Sam’s lifeless body lying across the booth seat behind me, and knew there was no turning back, that perhaps I’d passed that particular exit off this highway a long time ago.
“And I get a year, right?” I asked. “Before you show up to collect?”
“Well, as written on page two hundred forty-seven, you get until your next name day,” Saleos said and shr
ugged. “So about nine months, give or take.” He grinned. “But who’s counting? The important thing is, your Samantha will be restored, and her life will carry on as promised.”
“And she won’t remember dying?” I asked, though I’d read the contract line by line, and was sure I knew the answer. “She won’t remember any of this? Or whatever is happening to her soul while we’ve been negotiating?”
Saleos gave a single nod, a salesman’s smile still tugging up his lips. “That’s correct. She won’t remember dying or moving beyond her body. As I said, time is not the same here at the diner. No one, including Samantha, will even be the wiser that either of you were gone.”
He held his hand up again and wiggled his fingers. “Now, if you please. Let’s make this thing final, and you girls can get back to that gang of misfits you call friends.”
Ready for it to be done and over with, I placed my hand in that of the Demon’s, and together, we gave a firm shake. From the back of the diner, two Hellhounds slunk out and sat beside their master. I knew from their auras that they were the same Hounds that had been on the bridge with Boyce, and figured that Saleos must have called them home. If given the chance, I thought I just might kill the mutts on principle.
Following this, a blinding light appeared from our clutched hands, and the last image I saw was that of the grinning Saleos. In this moment, I saw beneath the human façade he was wearing and glimpsed the rotten, distorted face of his true form.
Just before I was whisked out of the diner, Saleos said, “See you soon, sweetheart. Very soon, indeed.”
When I blinked again, I was standing on the bridge in Grant City, the scene precisely as I had left it. It was such an abrupt change that it took me a second to orient. The low oldies music and the smell of coffee and cooked bacon were gone. Also gone was the smiling Demon, with his crisp suit and sharkish smile.
