Nothing…nothing…and then, there he was. About a hundred yards to the left, off the main trail. I signaled to Varga and he slowed to a walk, then stopped. Behind me, Jason also came to a halt, as did the guard in front of me. I motioned to them for silence and quietly dismounted, assessing the undergrowth between me and the stand of trees where the Abom stood.
Queet, can you go see if he’s in a human vehicle?
Sure, Fury. I’m on it.
Queet whisked away. At first he had resented being tied to me. He still complained, but the complaints were fewer and farther between, and we had finally developed a rapport over the years. I was thirty-one now, and he seemed to accept that being my guide and guardian was his destiny, just as destroying Abominations was mine.
Within a few seconds, he was back. He worked fast, that was for sure.
Fury, he’s big and he’s hungry. He’s in a human vehicle, all right—a zombie, which means he’s made his way over from Seattle.
Crap. I had only had to deal with one Abom who was in zombie form, and he had been a rough takedown. The Abom maintained a greater control over the body than the zombie’s innate need to feed did. And they were harder to kill, for that very reason—the zombies continued until they were torn to bits. And far worse, the soul-holes—an energy nexus on the vehicle where the Abom attached to the host—shrank. If they vanished altogether, then I couldn’t send the Abom back to Pandoriam. I could destroy the vehicle, but the Abom would then be free to find another. And killing an Abom who wasn’t in a vehicle? Ten times harder.
I quickly turned to Jason and the guard. “I’ll need to take him over to the Crossroads. He’s driving a zombie.”
Jason’s response was immediate. “What do you need us to do?”
“I need you to create an intersection here while I lure him over.” Another reason for the shovels and hoes. “I can’t get to the Crossroads without one. It doesn’t have to be big, but it needs to be apparent. I’ll go lure him back this way. You get busy.”
As the men immediately pulled the hoes and shovels off their horses and set to work without another word, I darted off trail, into the undergrowth. I wasn’t going on horseback because it would be tricky to maneuver through the thick foliage, and the last thing I wanted was for Varga to hurt himself.
The mist was almost knee-deep now, rolling through the undergrowth like fingers of smoke. I couldn’t see where I was walking and these woods were rife with tree roots and detritus—mulch thick with decaying leaves and fallen limbs. A large tree trunk—waist high—blocked my way. The nurse log was covered with velvety moss and toadstools growing out of the emerald patches. Keeping my Trace up, I placed one hand on the log and lightly swung myself over. I wasn’t sure if the Abom could sense me yet. They usually picked up on me when I got within a hundred feet or so.
Queet? Can you distract him so I can sneak up on him?
Sure thing, Fury. I’m like a tasty snack to them. Pure energy.
I couldn’t move at blur speed, so when I did catch the Abom’s attention, I was going to have to keep out of his reach until we reached the intersection the boys were creating back at the road. Luckily, zombies moved slower than the living. Not so luckily, they weren’t detoured by impediments. If there was a way over or around or through something, they’d find it. They could trip and break an ankle and still chase you, as long as there was any possible way.
The forest had gone very still. The animals sensed the Abom and they wanted no part of him. I had finally gotten used to the incessant sound of birds and creatures in the undergrowth. Back in the city, all the sounds of traffic and people hadn’t fazed me, but it took me awhile to get into a comfort zone out here in the woodlands.
Now, I noticed when something was off. The creatures of the forest were a great early warning system if you trained yourself to pay attention.
I circled around, wanting to give Jason and the guard time to create an intersection for me. Good news? They were experienced at it by now. The bad news was it would be small and I would have to lure the Abom into close contact in order to take him over to the Crossroads.
Fury, you better hurry. There’s someone nearby and he’s picked up on them.
Oh, hell. I couldn’t let him attack—the zombie would eat the victim’s flesh, while the Abom ate their soul. Not a pretty picture and depending on who got their appetite on first, it could be terribly painful.
I grabbed a stick and broke it as loudly as I could. There was another sudden hush and then, there was the sound of something trampling through the bushes, coming my way.
He heard you.
I meant him to.
I paced myself, breathing softly. I couldn’t use my flame in such tight quarters—even with the incessant rain, there was too much chance of hitting dry kindling and sending the forest up in a blaze of fire. My whip would get entangled by the foliage. And my sword—well, it would be unwieldy in such tight quarters. I slowly drew my dagger, waiting for the Abom to break through the trees. I would do what I could to keep him here for a few minutes, giving Jason and the guard time to create the intersection, then head back for the trail.
A moment later and the creature appeared from behind a towering fir tree. As per their usual tricks, the Abom had chosen a massively muscled man. They always chose the toughest, biggest vehicles they could find. But the man was obviously dead. His complexion was mottled, and he looked like he had been dead for a long, long time. Zombies didn’t lose all their flesh, not unless they were starving, and then they became gaunt and sallow, but they did bloat up, like any decaying body, and in no sense of the word did they look like a normal person.
“Yo, you! I see you. You know what I am, don’t you? I destroy your kind.” I waved my dagger at him, laughing. The Aboms could sense my ability to take them down.
Where’s his soul-hole, Queet?
Right at the base of his tailbone. Odd how it varies when they choose a zombie over a living body.
Yeah, we could speculate all day on why that is, but right now is not the time. Okay, he’s big enough, and with the fact that he’s a zombie, I’m definitely going to have to take him to the Crossroads. He must have been a B-ball player in life.
Either that or he made a living changing light-rings for people who couldn’t reach the ceiling without a ladder.
The Abom began moving in my direction. He was actually faster than I expected, not a good thing. And he had a cunning, speculative look in his eyes—another not-so-good thing. I darted a few steps back, my dagger firmly in hand. I stared at him for a moment, gauging just how long it would take Jason to finish my intersection.
To my surprise and dismay, the Abom suddenly picked up speed. He wasn’t running, but he was moving faster than any zombie I had ever encountered. I stumbled, caught myself, and took off racing toward the nurse log. As I cleared it in one jump, I glanced over my shoulder to see where the Abom was. He was gaining on me. I couldn’t run at blur speed with all the trees in the way, although I was far faster than the average human. But he was catching up and that was never a good thing.
I began shouting as I neared the road. “Incoming! Abom on my tail. I hope you have that intersection handy!”
“One more minute,” came the echoing reply.
I began to weave, to give them the extra time they needed. I darted to my left behind a big cedar, then swung a hard right when the Abom veered to follow me. Then another sharp left when he was behind another tree. Finally, I had to take him out of the woods or I’d be too far from the intersection when I hit the road. I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself on, driving my legs at a frantic pace as leaf and branch whipped against them. I was almost to the trail when a vine lunged out and wrapped itself around my ankle.
Oh crap! Wandering Ivy!
I tripped before I could stop myself. The vine was holding onto my ankle. As I rolled to a sitting position, I saw the Abom closing in. With one swift slice, I brought my dagger down t
o cut through the vine and it lashed at me, angry and in pain. I scrambled to my feet and, jumping over the patch of ivy, landed at the edge of the road.
Jason and the guard had moved to the side. They had cleared enough of the vegetation to create a small intersection and I said nothing, just raced into it and jammed my dagger into my sheath, bringing my hands overhead as I waited for the Abom to join me. He rumbled out of the woods, eyes focused on me. I shouted at him, taunting him so that he wouldn’t change direction and go after the others or the horses.
The Abom turned to me and began striding in my direction. He was lurching—zombies lurched—but then he was in the intersection. As he reached for me, I clasped my hands together, whispering the words that would take me to the Crossroads.
THE CROSSROADS. A place of mist and fog, all intersections met here, and the gods of the Crossroads made their homes. Hecate ruled here, and Papa Legba, the master of Voudoun. The messengers of the gods traveled from world to world via the Crossroads. Mercury and Hermes were frequent visitors, passing through as they carried their missives from the other gods. Janus, two-faced god of gateways and doors, lurked in the shadows, and all the others who ruled over decisions and turning points.
The Crossroads was a vast realm of scrub trees and fallow fields, of undergrowth and scattered rocks and long plains of whispering grasses. Perpetually cloaked in mist, the realm existed in perpetual shadow, neither day nor night, and the roads wove a labyrinth of passages as far as the eye could see.
I always landed at the same spot—near Hecate’s cauldron. It sat at a Y-juncture, with a signboard next to it that read:
Stand at the Crossroads
State your claim
To seal the deal,
Strike the flame.
I had never kindled the cauldron’s flame—I already had my deal in place, simply by right of being born. But there were those who sought Hecate’s services, and they would come here by way of spell or prayer to make a deal with the Elder Goddess via her cauldron.
A bench sat beneath a tree that was either yew or elder—I hadn’t determined which yet. I often would rest there and think when I wasn’t fighting Aboms. But at this moment, I had no time to waste. The Abom appeared with me and, as I set foot on the crossroads, I danced back out of reach so that it couldn’t catch hold of me.
Queet, are you here?
I’m here, Fury. No worries that.
Soul-hole at the tailbone, you said?
Yes. I’ll go around and see if I can get him to turn so you can see.
Queet could take substantial form on the Crossroads when he chose to, and now he swung around in back of the Abomination and solidified into a foggy, glowing figure.
The Abom sensed him and whirled, looking for an easy meal. As he turned, I was able to see the glowing hole that indicated his connection to both the vehicle and the physical realm. All I had to do was give a good swipe at the soul-hole and land true, and the Abom would be sent home to Pandoriam. Most people wouldn’t be able to see the hole, or manage to land a direct hit even if they did. Hence, most people who met Aboms became their victims.
I eyed the hole, watching as it started to close. Somehow, being in a zombie vehicle gave them more of an immunity to being attacked—and a better chance to roam our realm.
I can’t hold him forever, Fury. He’s coming at me! Queet danced back, trying to keep the Abom’s attention while staying out of reach.
I slapped my thigh, bringing my whip up to bear. I was far more accurate with it than I was with my sword because it was easier to direct the length from a distance. I whipped the flaming whip around my head. The sound of its crack brought a swell of joy to my heart and I smiled. I loved the pulse of power that rippled through my hand. I eyed the tailbone of the Abom and the ever-shrinking soul-hole, and let loose with the whip, bringing the fall down to lash against the opening.
The flames from my whip flared to life as the fall hit square on point, slicing it wide. The Abom screamed as the soul-hole stopped closing, flaring as it began to split open, a shimmer of light spilling out. The sickly green light bled out into the astral. The bleeding intensified as the viscous pool of life-energy hemorrhaged out. Then, with one last shudder, the Abom vanished, screeching as he was dragged back to Pandoriam. The force of his departure blasted me, sending me reeling back as he disappeared.
Usually, that would be the end of the fight and I could collapse. Altercations with Aboms on the Crossroads left me wiped. But the zombie remained upright. Last time, Hecate had been here to help me corral both menaces. This time, I was facing him on my own. Which meant, as tired as I was, I had to take him down.
I slapped my whip back on my leg. It wouldn’t do much for me against the zombie itself. I started to reach for my sword, but then something whispered, “No—use your flame.”
I backed away, amazed that I could still stand. As I turned, I held out my hand and reached for the connection to the primal flame. I sought for the nexus point where my fire touched the elemental source of unlimited fuel. And then, there it was—a tiny spark in the distance. I focused on it, beckoning it closer, coaxing it until it was all around me.
The spark became a flame became a blaze and I was in the middle of it. I remembered what Hecate had taught me—Don’t lose yourself in it, keep control of your thoughts or you will burn forever in the warmth and welcome of the brilliant flames.
I kept hold of my name. I’m Fury. I’m of the fire and yet separate from it. I can exist in the fire and yet outside of it. I connect with the fire without becoming the fire.
Another beat, and I was back to myself, the connection steady enough to open my eyes. Resting on my hand was a ball of flame crackling with a ghostly heat. I intensified it, willing it to grow, enlarging it as I stood there. And then, when it was big enough and strong enough, I aimed it at the approaching zombie and let go.
The flame surrounded him, engulfing him. Within seconds, his tattered clothing was alight, and then his skin, blistering and burning as the fire consumed him, gobbling him up in a blaze of delight and hunger.
The passion of the flames terrified me, but I struggled to control my fear. Fear would negate the connection. Fear would short-circuit the attack.
Horrified by the joy I felt in watching the zombie burn, I forced myself to remember that he was already dead. Whoever the man was, his spirit had fled his body when he died. Finally, I quit resisting and gave into the delight. Leaning my head back, I laughed as he danced like a puppet on a string. In another moment, the zombie was on the ground, and in another, only the bones remained, scorched clean. As I watched, the primal force ate through them, too, and there was nothing left but a pile of ashes.
I tried to pull out of the trance, but something was tugging me deeper. At first I thought it was the flames, but then I realized that some other force was dragging me down. I collapsed.
Fury? Fury? What’s wrong? Queet swirled around me.
But I couldn’t answer. I was too deep in my trance. The force holding me didn’t feel dangerous, but it was wide and expansive, and I wanted to follow it. I knew I should get off the Crossroads, but I couldn’t let go. After a moment, I surrendered and let it take me where it wanted me to go.
I WAS STANDING at the base of the World Tree. I looked up to see a giant of a woman—standing tall over the Sandspit, far taller than the skyscrapers. She was a swirl of stars, of trees and leaves. Her body was the curvature of the earth, her hair ran in waterfalls that cascaded down her back. Her breasts were mountains, her stomach a plain of blowing grass. Her thighs were thunderous, tree trunks so big that they could hold up a city. As she reached out, her arms extended into tendrils and vines that encircled the world. No one needed to tell me who she was. Her energy was clear, her name rang from every pore of her body.
“Gaia,” I whispered.
Gaia, the wind sang as it whipped around me.
She pointed to the World Tree.
The
original…
Her voice thundered in a quake that rocked the earth.
The first.
Again, a cacophony as the ground rumbled beneath my feet.
I stared at the World Tree, understanding dawning. “This was the first one you created? This was the first World Tree?”
The mother of them all.
She sang and the world responded. Boulders crashed down her shoulders, shaking the ground as they fell around me.
This is the key.
I nodded, trying to understand. As I watched the tree, the portals blazed on it—gateways to all realms shimmering like vortexes. I walked over to the trunk and began to climb it, taking the steps that led a circular path up the tree trunk.
As I passed by each portal, I could feel the energy emanating from it. Some were tempting—they felt like a long, luxurious vacation or a respite from worry. Still others were darker, like storm clouds and snails under wet boards that had been lying around too long.
I was high on the tree when I realized that there was one portal I hadn’t noticed before. It was a kaleidoscope of colors, ugly and mottled, and I found myself focused on it. Among the hundreds of junctures, it had been invisible, at least to me, but now it began to shimmer into view. The symbol on it was a spiral, but this was no ordinary spiral. It looped in on itself, in a crazy swirl that made no sense when I tried to look at it. Every time I looked away, I could see it as plain as day, but when I turned my attention to it directly, it vanished and became a chaotic jumble of unnerving energies wrapping around themselves, like a skein of yarn that had been all tangled up.
Gaia pointed toward the portal, her finger as thick as the World Tree’s trunk.
This is the mother. Destroy this, you destroy all of them on all of the trees.
I tried to register what she was saying. I understood the words, but the meaning was escaping me.
“Destroy what? The portal?”
Yes.
Fury Calling Page 3
