Summoned Chaos

by Joshua Roots

  “Dammit, Steve,” I said, annoyed. “I almost had it.”

  “No, dude. Something’s coming.”

  I barely registered the sound of branches snapping before a pack of beasts plowed into the clearing. They were like pumas on steroids with long, gray fur that was matted with mud and thin tails that sliced through the air like razors. Rows of sharp teeth protruded from their upper lips.

  The pack made a beeline for the suffering deer, pouncing on it before anyone could move. The deer released a horrified shriek that was silenced by a swipe of an enormous paw. The predators devoured the animal, reducing it to carrion in a matter of seconds. Several fought over the scraps.

  The rest turned their bloody snouts and hungry eyes on us.

  “I’m no longer having fun,” Steve grumbled as the beasts raced toward us.

  Chapter Twelve

  Fight and Flight

  We dove into the woods at a full sprint, each in a different direction.

  The creatures paused, sniffing the air as if trying to decide which one of us they wanted to pursue first.

  Half of them chose to follow me.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I said, huffing as I raced through the woods. I’d been so shocked by my experience with the rift that I’d completely frozen.

  A better Warlock would have had combat spells at the ready.

  A better Warlock wouldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

  Running, however, loosened my mental constipation. I quickly flipped through my mental list of spells before settling on an oldie, but goodie. I scooped up a hunk of dirt, spun and hurled it at the lead predator like a fastball. The mud-ball solidified, slamming into the beast’s head with a crack.

  The puma didn’t even flinch.

  “Crap,” I shouted, weaving behind a tree as the closest beast swiped at me. Claws met bark and the creature snarled in frustration.

  Slipping between two bushes, I drew my Glock with my free hand, spun and squeezed the trigger. One of the hollow points missed, but the other two struck the flank of the nearest predator. It yelped, but kept coming.

  With simple spells and conventional weapons doing little damage, it was time to bring in the big guns.

  I ran a hand through a large shrub, calling out with my Skill. The fauna around me responded, giving themselves to me. The trees, old and sturdy, fortified my powers. They poured their strength into me, filled my senses, allowing me to tap deeper than I could have alone.

  Yanking my sword-hand skyward, I ripped the surrounding roots from the ground. The creatures hit them at full speed, tripping over the gnarled, twisted minefield. Bones cracked and the lead predator collapsed to the ground with a horrific shriek. The remaining two beasts struggled to gain their footing, slashing and snapping at the root-trap.

  Since the Glock was apparently ineffective, I shoved it into the holster, then I tapped deep into my Skill. Energy flowed into my system and I launched myself at the three trapped beasts. Sunlight glinted off the glowing red steel as I swung my blade overhead, then drove it through the skull of the injured creature. The impact pinned the creature’s head to the earth and I felt, rather than saw, the tip of my sword punch into the soggy dirt beneath our feet.

  Whether to escape or attack, the surviving predators thrashed wildly at their trappings. Jerking my sword free, I spun, intercepting a swipe from the nearest surviving beast. The paw landed several feet away with a bloody thump.

  My attacker’s agonized scream died when I drove my blade though its throat.

  Pain exploded down my arm as a talon from the third predator nicked my bicep. Dropping my sword, I gripped the wound.

  Heat like fire filled my body and my muscles began to feel heavy. The world tilted. I staggered sideways, my ears ringing.

  The beast clawed at the roots, slashing them into kindling. Snarling, it extricated itself from the trappings.

  Red eyes met mine.

  I reached for the Glock, but my fingers struggled to find the grip.

  The creature hunched as if to leap, but shrieked when Quinn buried her scimitar into its side. It snapped at her, but she yanked her sword free and ducked beneath the large snout. With a quick swipe, she separated the head from the body, spinning as she danced away from the fountain of blood.

  The corpse dropped to the ground, twitched once, then went still.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, running over to me.

  “Woozy, but I’ll manage.”

  She bent to examine my injury, frowning as she gently pulled the ripped cloth aside. Her pretty face was pink with exertion and her eyes, so green, filled with worry. Maybe even love.

  I liked the thought of that.

  “Superficial,” she said, then she placed a hand over the wound and murmured a Healing Spell. Warmth replaced fire as the skin knitted together. The sharp pain subsided, leaving a dull ache in its place. When she finished, she wiped my blood on her pant leg. “That will have to do. I’ll fix the rest later, but right now we need to help Steve.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “And where is he?”

  “Last I saw he was near the rift dealing with at least two of these puma things.”

  We backtracked to the clearing as fast as my shaky legs would allow, pausing only so I could recover my sword from the killing grounds.

  “There!” Quinn pointed, then rushed into the meadow.

  The bodies of a half-dozen beasts littered the forest floor, all of them with spines bent in unnatural angles. Another baker’s dozen surrounded Steve, who was systematically dodging claws and teeth like a matador.

  One of the pumas snapped at Quinn as she approached, but she twirled out of the way with the grace of a ballerina. Steve kicked the creature sideways, exposing its soft underbelly. Fur and skin splayed open, dumping organs onto the ground, as Quinn gutted the animal.

  The last surviving creature leapt at Steve, sinking its teeth into his forearm. My friend never made a sound. Instead, he grabbed it by its hind legs with his good hand, jerked it overhead, then slammed it to the ground. Bones snapped like kindling and the creature went limp. The Minotaur raised a boot, then stomped whatever life remained out of his attacker.

  The sudden calm that fell over the meadow didn’t last long as more howls echoed through the trees.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I growled. “How many of these things are there?”

  Steve cradled his injured arm. “More than I care to deal with.”

  A Marine Corps buddy of mine had once told me that there was a line between Tough Marine and Smart Marine. With two thirds of our group hurt, it was time to be the latter.

  I slid my sword back into its sheath. “Okay, kids, we’re out of here.”

  “What about the rift?” Quinn asked, following as we ran back to where I’d parked our car.

  The howls were almost on top of us. My bowels gurgled in fear.

  “Survival first.”

  “Agreed!” Steve said, scooping Quinn and me each in an arm as if we weighed nothing. He carried us toward the car at a bone-jarring pace. Blood from his injury soaked into my shirt, but the Minotaur seemed completely oblivious to damage as we flew through the woods. Behind us, another pack of creatures galloped into view.

  The Minotaur vaulted fallen trees like a hurdler, covering more ground in thirty seconds than the three of us had in the ten minutes of walking. We punched out of the woods and into the gray dampness of the grass alongside a major highway. Steve skidded in the wet grass, then bolted toward the large, black Suburban I’d borrowed from my father.

  “Crank it up,” he said, dropping Quinn and me by the driver door. I fumbled to unlock the car, then tossed my sword in the back as we all piled in.

  The engine roared to life and I punched the gas. The car fishtailed wildly, but snapped on course when the tires hit the pavement. I pulled across the shoulder and into the right lane of the highway, cutting off a small truck in the process. The driver yelled at me in my rearview mirror, but his eyes we
nt wide with shock as one of the pursuing creatures crashed into the side of his cab. It stumbled, then sprinted after us. Three more of its friends fell in behind it.

  “I really hate those things,” I muttered.

  Quinn crawled over the rear seat. “Pop the back window!”

  Having no idea what she was thinking, but not really caring, I punched the button on the dash. Quinn pushed the window upward. She reached out, opened her hand like a claw, then swiped it to her right. The lead predator was hurled sideways, bouncing twice before coming to a stop in the far lane.

  “Nice,” Steve said over the sound of squealing tires. “Also, gross.”

  I swerved around a small sedan, then pulled back into the right lane. The remaining creatures vaulted over the sedan and continued after us.

  “Incoming!” Quinn shouted as the lead beast juked past her Air Spell and launched itself at the car. It landed on the roof with a thump and claws against the metal, filling the cabin with a deafening shriek. I jerked the wheel, hoping the move would shake the animal, but talons punched through the headliner as it hung on.

  Steve pulled my sword from the sheath. “I’m just gonna borrow this for a sec.”

  Before I could answer he drove it into the center of the roof.

  There was a soft thump and this time when I snapped the wheel back and forth, the body of the creature slid down the side of the car. The Suburban’s rear bounced as the back tires rolled over the creature, then crashed violently back to the pavement. The broken corpse of the animal tumbled several yards like a rag doll before skidding to a halt.

  Thankfully, it didn’t move.

  Unfortunately, the Suburban did. The wobble was small at first, but became more pronounced with each passing second.

  “Nice poker,” Steve said, pulling my blade out of the headliner.

  I nodded, but was too focused on the shaking of our ride to respond. Behind us, the remaining predators veered off the highway and headed back into the woods. I waited until they vanished into the brush before easing off the gas.

  The wobbling decreased, so I pulled onto the shoulder and allowed the Suburban to slow on its own.

  “We’re stopping?” Steve asked, staring at the woods as I set the emergency brake.

  “Feels like we have a blown tire. Besides, I have a hunch those things don’t want to play anymore. At least, for now.”

  The Minotaur huffed. “I think I’ll trust your hunches from here on out.”

  “Ditto,” Quinn muttered.

  Several cars pulled onto the shoulder behind us.

  “I’m not gonna lie,” Steve said, applying pressure to his bloody arm. “This was way more interesting than I thought it’d be.”

  Quinn crawled back over the rear seat and examined Steve’s arm. She ran her hands over the bloody flesh, then murmured a basic Healing Spell. The flow of blood decreased to a trickle as the skin knitted loosely together. The color drained from her face and she leaned back. “Sorry. That’s all I have left. That last spell tapped me.”

  Steve flexed a muscle in his arm. “This is fine. Besides, it takes more than a mutated squirrel to slow me down.”

  Quinn smiled weakly, but I frowned.

  “Squirrels? Are you kidding?”

  “Actually, yes,” Steve said. “I have no clue what those things are, but I can guarantee you they aren’t paranormal.” Chills ran through my body. If Steve was right, then we’d either just encountered an unknown species or one from a different world.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Trust me, I’ve dealt with a lot of creatures in my day. The paranormal clans might prefer to live in isolation, but we keep tabs on one another. Mutation or not, those beasts are not part of my end of the planet.”

  There was only one way I knew they could have arrived uninvited to our realm.

  Through a rift.

  Oh hell.

  Steve drummed his fingers on the seat. “So, now what?”

  I gritted my teeth as a large crowd gathered around the vehicle. Half of them stared in shock while the other half whipped out their phones and started taking pictures.

  It was only a matter of time before the authorities and the media arrived.

  Quinn and I locked eyes. Her face was filled with fear. Attention like this was the last thing she needed. Normally she’d run, but between the flat tire and at least two surviving predators in the woods, she was stuck.

  Guilt gnawed at me.

  “Unfortunately,” I said heavily, keeping my eyes on Quinn, “now I have to call this in.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Confrontation Station

  The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon when I pulled into the driveway and shut off the car. The sedan was boring, nothing more than a standard errand-mobile, but considering I’d destroyed two vehicles in as many days, Dad wasn’t about to loan me anything sexy. Not that I blamed him, of course, but the reliability of my current ride didn’t outweigh the fact that I felt like I should be wearing sandals and black socks when sitting behind the wheel.

  I hauled my aching body out of the Senior Mobile, then limped to the large, wooden door at the top of the short stairway. A young gentleman in green and gold robes greeted me when I rang the bell.

  “Good evening, Warlock Shifter. The Master is waiting for you in the kitchen.”

  A powerful barrier enveloped me as I followed the man down the wide hallway. Unlike the homes of most senior Councilmembers, Wizard Pell’s house was cluttered in that lived-in-way. A coat rack near the entrance was packed with threadbare jackets older than me while the furniture was functional rather than fashionable. Instead of fancy art, the walls were covered with eclectic prints in cheap frames.

  There was also an ambiance to the place, a welcoming sensation that could only be found in a home and not in a showpiece.

  Echoes of past residents seemed to call out from the walls. It wasn’t so much like ghosts as it was leftover impressions. Love, family, happiness, death... All had happened beneath the roof, permeating the structure like a magical odor. And I soaked as much of it in as possible, relishing the feeling.

  “Warlock Shifter,” the butler announced as we entered the kitchen.

  Wizard Pell rose. “Thank you, Maxwell.”

  The servant dipped his head formally, then departed.

  “Hello, Marcus,” the old man said, shaking my hand.

  “Thanks for seeing me.” I let his aura of confidence wash over me, willing it to cleanse the tension I’d been carrying all day.

  “Anytime.” He waved me toward the bar stools. “Come, have a seat.”

  The kitchen was smaller than I expected, but filled with the lingering scent of baked sweets. Copper pots hung from a rack over an island stove while a large platter of cookies was cooling on the counter top below them. My stomach rumbled as I stared at the treats.

  Pell slid the plate in front me. “Help yourself.”

  “I couldn’t,” I said, shoving a cookie into my mouth.

  Sweet mercy, it was like eating a warm angel stuffed with chocolate chips. I may have moaned.

  “So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  I grabbed two more before he returned the plate to the counter. “No doubt you’ve already heard about my adventures today.”

  Pell nodded. “The news was in a lather about it earlier. It certainly added fuel to the fire for your micro-celebrity status.”

  “Is the Council pissed?”

  “Quite the opposite, actually. A lot of witnesses raved about your actions, calling you all superheroes. The media ate that up. From what I hear, the Council has been fielding phone calls all day from Normals asking about intern positions. Mostly young people, which is par for the course, but a surprising number of older folks as well. It’s impossible to buy positive attention like that.”

  I was glad at least some good came out of the whole thing.

  “The Minotaur was quite the hit too.”

  The Normal w
orld was still adjusting to the presence of paranormals and considering that few Minotaurs, if any, ever bothered to leave their clan, Steve had been immediately swarmed.

  They’d asked about his injury, wanted his side of the story, and had even gone so far as to demand his opinion on Skilled/Normal politics. Steve had handled the situation with his typical, gruff demeanor, but I could tell he’d loved the attention.

  Quinn was a different matter.

  She’d done her best to avoid the cameras, staying inside the Suburban while Steve and I worked the crowd. But plenty of people saw her—the Council would know she was in town.

  And, if history was any example, they’d be all over her again to help them find her father.

  I cursed myself for putting her in the exact predicament she was trying to avoid.

  The kids from R&D were the first on the scene, beating the rift repair team to the location. They’d grilled us for details, but thankfully, Dad had come to our rescue before Steve punched anyone. He’d waved his credentials, scaring off Witches and Wizards, then transported us to safety. We’d given him the low-down on the fight, then had each gone our separate ways once we arrived at the Homestead.

  Steve to the infirmary, me to Pell’s, and Quinn back into the shadows.

  The ache of not knowing when, or if, I’d see her again ate at me.

  “Congratulations, by the way,” Pell said with a slight grin, pulling me back to the present.

  I frowned. “For what?”

  Instead of answering, he picked a tablet off the table, powered it on, and handed it to me. I was impressed. Few old-school Councilmembers, and almost none of the Elders, believed in modernization. Pell, however, liked to keep up with the times. It was one of the many reasons I liked him.

  What I didn’t like was the article from a tabloid webpage, the title of which read Interspecies Couple Goes From Hot Date to Hot Mess. Beneath it was a photo of Steve and me in our tuxes, walking to the limo. Next to it was another with us looking sweaty and disgusting along the side of the road.

  But the photos were just the beginning. There were several paragraphs that described the attack on the highway, then a couple more that questioned my taste in romantic partners. Then I saw the words I’d feared ever since this whole Council-spun charade began.