Her face flushed a pale purple as she struggled to break free of its grip. She swung her legs up and over the android’s arm and stomped her feet in its face. Again and again, she kicked its head until, finally, its two circular glass eyes cracked. One last good kick and they went out like a shattered lightbulb. The android stumbled back and loosened its grip—letting go of Michelle and her sword—as it clawed at its broken, dead eyes.
“Lava,” she rasped out through a bruised, sore throat. Maiden’s Soul glowed crimson. She drove her blade into the floor and the ground gave way to a rolling, bubbling wave of lava.
The two androids staggered as their metal feet melted and they sank.
Michelle sprinted for the water and dove off the platform.
KABOOM!
She hit the water as a shockwave and a wall of flames barreled past overhead. Debris and shrapnel rained down on the sloshing water. She surfaced with a gasp for air and pulled herself up onto the platform—panting worse than a half-drowned mutt.
“That’s… eight down,” uttered Michelle with defeat as she plopped down on her back.
“That just leaves Mr. Buttons,” replied Lefty.
“I’ll get right on that. Once everything stops hurting.” She glanced over to the carnage. Smoke, fire, and robot body parts lingered around a newly formed smoldering pit. “That might be awhile.” She cupped her bloody stomach wound. “Maybe we should cancel. I’ll shoot him a text. And say it isn’t working out and we’ve decided to see other child murdering psychopaths with creepy shadow powers. He’ll understand.”
Shadows stretched out from the broken android parts and collected themselves onto the wall, forming into a shadowy horned demon. “Greetings Marauder,” it hissed out.
“Goddamn it,” cursed Michelle.
“If you’re still alive to hear this message, it means you’ve somehow managed to defeat the last of my toy soldiers.” The horned shadow’s cut-out, cartoonish smile widened. “No matter. I still have one final piece left on the board to play.”
Michelle swallowed the lump in her throat.
“That’s right, I have your little boyfriend.”
“Jon…” She clenched her eyes shut. “No.”
“He’s still alive—but not for long. Meet me on the rooftop of the old Channel 7 News building. By midnight or I cut out his heart and add it to my collection.” The shadow faded away. “Let’s end this once and for all, Marauder.”
Michelle slowly picked herself up and wobbled to her feet.
“What are you doing, Michelle?” asked Lefty.
“What does it look like?” She sheathed her sword and lumbered toward the exit. “I’m going to save him.”
“We have to go. Now. Through the mirror. While we still can.”
She reached the stairs and started her laborious climb. “I’m not leaving him to die.”
“They’re all going to die. Sooner or later.”
“Then I choose later.” Each new step she took grew heavier than the last.
“This makes no sense. That human’s life is insignificant.”
“What’s your point?”
“You’re not thinking rationally, Michelle. Your death means everyone’s death. Why risk your life, all life in the universe, for his meager existence?”
She saw the light at the end of the stairs and felt the cold breeze on her skin. “You wouldn’t understand. I’m the Marauder, saving people is what I do. Doesn’t matter who.”
“And what about your little brother, Matthew?”
She formed a fist with her left hand. “Shut up.”
Lefty struggled to stay open. “Are you willing to risk his life too?”
“I said shut your mouth.” Her dripping wound left a messy red trail behind her.
“You’re injured—bleeding. Badly. And not to mention you’re too exhausted to even put up a fight.”
“I’ll manage somehow. I always do.”
“You won’t be able to use anymore magic in your pitiful state.”
She reached the city and stepped onto the sidewalk, taking in the open air and feeling the pitter-patter of raindrops on her cheeks. “I just need to swing my sword hard enough to cut off that sack of shit’s head.”
Straight ahead, at the end of the block, stood the Channel 7 News building. A swirling mess of storm clouds above rained lightning bolts and booming thunder down.
She leaned against a street lamp to catch her breath. “The elevator better still be working in that place. Because I don’t think I can do anymore stairs.”
***
The elevator played a cheerful tune while Michelle ascended to the rooftop. Lefty even started to hum along, that is, until Michelle told him to shut up. The carpet was a tacky red and black plaid, and a musty stale odor clung to every dark corner. She readied her sword as the final buttons lit up one by one.
“There’s no easy way out,” Mr. Buttons’ voiced leaked through the speaker with a hiss of static. “No escape. Your end is coming. This elevator box is the hearse carrying you to your grave. And it will be oh so painful.”
“Let’s end this quick,” she said, her breaths were labored and her skin ghostly pale. “It’s too late and I’m too tired to be screwing around with masked madmen.”
And there was still Arthur. She had less than an hour before midnight, before he would leave her and this universe for good. Time waits for no man, so it should be within reason that time travelers certainly couldn’t be expected to wait for a half-dead woman with a cheeky hand-goblin. Hold on, Arthur, I’m coming.
“Time to sprinkle the dirt on your corpse, Marauder.” His high-pitched cackle cutoff with a blare of crackling static.
“We agree,” said Lefty. “Strike hard and true.”
She nodded. “I aim to.”
The blood-red doors parted and she dashed through.
***
Time seemed to slow as Michelle sprinted across the rooftop toward Mr. Buttons. The raindrops became syrup-like drips, splashing against her hood and cape. Lightning crawled from the dark clouds. Her entire world bleached white.
Mr. Buttons stood over a fallen Jon on the rooftop, resting his umbrella against his shoulder, his heel firmly planted on Jon’s blood-stained ear—twisting and grinding for the wicked fun of it. Jon moaned. A good sign—he was still alive.
She drew back her sword to her side in preparations for her next attack. Strike hard and true. Aim for the neck—and cut off the snake’s head.
Pitch-black spikes and blades speared out from Mr. Buttons’ long creeping shadow. She weaved through them like a viper slithering around jungle vines.
Mr. Buttons finally turned his blank, button-eyed glare her way with a sudden jerking twist of his head and twirled his umbrella at her—purposely blocking her view of him. She hacked the umbrella away only to spot the glint of light reflected off steel. Her second strike was countered by Mr. Buttons’ umbrella-handled rapier. His third wild stab sent her on the defensive, his movements fast and random—his whole body swaying with each new attack—it was like she was in a duel to the death with an insane drunken scarecrow. Made all the more horrifying by his maddening laugh, he was having the time of his life while she was fighting for hers.
Michelle knew she was going to die four moves in advance—like a world-class chess pro—she could see her opponent’s next move even before he planned it himself. Simply put, her response time was just too slow—and growing a fraction of a second slower with each new strike. And sure enough, he slipped his blade under her guard after her thirteenth slash—embedding his rapier into her right thigh.
She screamed and lost her balance—falling back. The horned shadow leaped out from behind Mr. Buttons and sped down upon her, claws spread as wide as an eagle’s talons just before the kill. Before she even hit the ground, she instinctively raised her left hand.
Lefty sucked in the horned shadow in an instant but his wind tunnel was cut short when Mr. Buttons grabbed hold of Michelle’s wrist, strangl
ing out his breath. His single snake eye bulged, and he gasped a desperate, muted screech of pain.
“That’s quite enough out of you, traitor,” said Mr. Buttons.
“Lef—” A quick kick to the ribcage put an end to Michelle’s struggling and she dropped her sword.
“You too, Marauder.” Mr. Buttons planted his foot on the side of her head this time, standing over her as if she was a freshly slain buck. “This battle goes to the victor. Me.”
She gritted her teeth. “The battle is never over. Not while I still breathe.” Her right leg felt like someone doused it with gasoline and set it on fire.
“What are you even fighting for?” Mr. Buttons shook his head with a sigh. “Look around you, Marauder.” He gestured to the ruins of the city around them and the dark thundering clouds above. “You’ve already lost. It’s over. We won. This fight, your continued resistance, is pointless.” He leaned in close to her face. “All your efforts, your pathetic struggling, will yield you only more pain.”
She spat in his face. “Then bring on the pain.”
He leaned back, retrieved a handkerchief from his tuxedo pocket, and calmly wiped the spit from his black button eye. “Gladly.” He snapped her left wrist with a violent twist.
Both Michelle and Lefty screamed.
Mr. Buttons’ wicked laugh was abruptly interrupted by the popping crack of gunfire. A sizzling new bullet hole rested above his button eyes.
Michelle glanced past him and found Jon rising up with a smoking pistol drawn.
“You should’ve disarmed me first, you son-of-a-bitch,” said Jon.
“Jon…” She wanted to call to him but only a whisper came out.
Mr. Buttons spun his head around toward Jon. “Why?” he asked with an indifferent shrug. “Why bother defanging a flea? Though that does give me an idea.” He yanked his rapier from Michelle’s thigh—bringing about another painful cry from her.
“Michelle,” Jon yelled, unloading both his pistols into Mr. Buttons. “Run. Get out of here. I’ll hold him off.”
Mr. Buttons just kept walking, slashing his blade back and forth, as the bullets came whizzing out his back. Jon might as well have been blasting away at a real scarecrow. “Perhaps I will disarm you.”
Jon, no… She clenched her eyes and turned away, unable to watch her friend’s demise. I’m sorry. I wasn’t strong enough. Arthur, Matthew, Atlas—I failed you all. I couldn’t shoulder the weight of the universe alone.
You’re not alone, spoke the voices in her mind—all seven of them. We are with you. Always. Seven voices of seven women, together and in sync, called out to her. Our hearts beat as one with the Source of the universe. Our wills are Ordin’s will. Our strength is yours. Now rise, Michelle, and claim your destiny.
Michelle opened her eyes and found Maiden’s Soul glowing a vibrant blue and humming. Lightning mirrored back on the blade and thunder sounded off overhead—and with it a realization. I may not be able to use anymore elemental magic… but that doesn’t mean I can’t borrow from the real thing. She grabbed hold of Maiden’s Soul and, with one final agonizing push, she rose to her feet.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and raised her sword toward the heavens.
Jon hit Mr. Buttons with a hard right, staggering him. But the sack-headed madman just laughed as he molded his sunken-in head back into its proper oval shape.
“Which shall I take first?” Mr. Buttons raised his sword too. “Your right or your left?” His mistake.
A bolt of lightning shot down from the raging storm clouds like a roaring Chinese dragon and struck Maiden’s Soul. Michelle was engulfed in a luminous shroud of electricity, her cape and hair lifting into the air.
Mr. Buttons turned around to meet his end. “Oh, crapbaskets.”
She thrust her sword forward. “Lightning.”
Mr. Buttons was not the first scarecrow left out in the rain to be struck by lightning and, as one would imagine, the results were very much the same. Flames burst through his sack head, sending his button eyes flying, his whole thin body convulsing as the bolt made its journey from the tip of his rapier to his now smoldering shoes. He dropped like a chopped down tree.
Michelle stalked over to her fallen enemy.
“Mercy… Mercy… Please,” Mr. Buttons pleaded as he crawled aimlessly on the ground—reaching out and grasping at empty air. “Have mercyyyy-aaargh!”
Michelle drove her sword one-handed through his chest—his heart—twisting it for good measure. Black oily liquid sprayed, coating half her face. “Have some cake!”
The former Shadow Snake melted to nothing but a dark, bubbling puddle.
Jon caught her as she fell backward. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
She gazed up at him, rested her hand against his cheek, and returned his smirk with a faint one of her own. “Never piss me off.”
He tore off two long strips of fabric from his shirt and wrapped both tightly around her stomach and leg wounds. “Come on, we need to get you to a doctor.” He swung her arm over his shoulder and, taking her into his arms, lifted her up. “Now if only I knew where to find one…”
“My hero,” she teased, resting her head against his chest.
“That’s my line,” he fired back as he made his way to the elevator. “You did good.”
“I did good,” she repeated.
Jon pushed the button and the elevator doors parted. “Where to now, boss?”
“The mirror,” she answered.
“How’s a mirror gonna help ya get patched up?” He stepped in and turned around.
She tapped the bottom button with her left foot. “It’s a magic mirror.”
“Magic, huh?” The doors started to close. “Hey, you’re some kind of wizard, ain’t ya?”
She smiled as the doors closed. “No, just your average fair Maiden.”
***
Jon shut the glass entrance door of the antique store behind him, Michelle still in his arms, and locked the brass knob just to be on the safe side.
She nodded in and out of a daze, her breathing heavy and painful, every time she closed her eyes she feared might be the last.
“Hang on, Michelle,” said Jon. “We’re almost there.”
She gazed down at her broken left wrist. Lefty had gone quiet—unusually so. She couldn’t even form a fist or wiggle her fingers to wake him. You hang on too, you little monster.
Everything in the old antique store was buried by a blanket of dust and cobwebs, from the furniture to the odd knickknacks and rare collectors’ items of a forgotten era. Everything except a seven-foot-tall, freestanding mirror that rested at the back, encircled by plastic-wrapped furniture and cardboard boxes. The moment she laid eyes on it, she smiled.
“What do you believe in, Jon?” she asked.
Jon frowned as he scooted aside some furniture that blocked their path with his leg. “Don’t get all preachy on me just yet. Not when we’re this close.” His pace quickened.
She scrunched up a fist full of his shirt. “Why did you keep going after your wife died?”
Jon stopped, silence his only answer.
“After Atlas died…” She paused to search for the right words. “I wanted to give up. I nearly did.”
“What stopped you?”
“He did.” She smiled. “Arthur.”
He pushed aside a table that was in front of the mirror to make room. “This Arthur, he’s someone close to your heart?”
“He is.”
Jon carried her up to the mirror. The mirror, framed in silver, glistened and sparkled as if carved from diamonds.
Her reflection was a pitiful sight—sunken in cheeks, pale dirt-smeared skin, and frizzed up hair. “He once told me, every breath we take, every moment of suffering or joy we experience, is a victory in the face of death.” She placed her hand on Jon’s cheek. “You never answered my question.”
He smiled down at her. “There’s a whole lotta people out there. Good folks. Just tryin’
to get by. It’s just like you said. Every breath they take is a victory. Elisabeth…” He took in a deep breath. “Elisabeth saved me.” He locked eyes with Michelle and she nervously brushed aside some loose hanging hair from her face. “Just like you did tonight.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I won’t let Elizabeth’s sacrifice go to waste. Or yours. I promised her. Now I’m promisin’ you.”
“Come with me,” she told him, “to New Republica.”
“New Republica?”
“It’s the city where I live. On the planet Hamistagan.”
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I knew it. You’re an alien. No way a normal girl could resist my charms.”
She laughed too—until a sudden jolt of pain cut her short. “I’m human. Though I was born on Tuat. Another planet… but still human.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend, Arthur, won’t mind?”
“Arthur’s not my boyfr—” She stopped herself and massaged the bridge of her nose. “Shut up,” she said with a sigh of happy defeat.
“Yes Ma’am.” He tipped his hat. “So, how’s this here magic mirror work?”
Maiden’s Soul lit up, shining through its sheath, as she placed her hand on the mirror’s glass. “There are seven mirrors on each of the seven worlds. And each mirror can take you to any other—no matter how far away—instantly.” The mirror glowed a healthy blue.
Michelle closed her eyes and pictured her destination. Take me home, take me to Arthur.
Chapter Seven
“Miss Lionmane.”
A voice called out to her in the darkness.
“Miss Lionmane, can you hear me?”
Michelle clenched her eyelids and stirred, before parting them slowly and letting in the bright artificial light.
“Ah, excellent. Our patient is coming to.”
A circular object, the size of a soccer ball, came into focus. A blue sphere hovered above her head with a black screen flashing a pixelated cartoon dog’s face. “Welcome back to the world of the living, Miss Lionmane.” The little round robot gave out a few cheerful barks and a whimper.
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