by Kezzy Sparks
“I had a bit of a break.” I try to put it in a way that won’t cause undue expectations. “At a house somewhere on Madonna Drive.”
“Who...what did you see?” Megan corks an ear.
“Something like that brown case we have been looking for.”
Casey stands up. “Give me the address, and I am going there right now.”
“And I am not staying behind.” Megan also stands up.
I don’t think this is a good idea. There is always the bureau rule that says never to involve persons with no knowledge of the supernatural in magic battles, and Megan should keep out of this. “No, sweetie, stay to look after the house.”
“No, Mel, screw the home; I am coming.”
The two race out the door before me. I close it when I am out; obviously it’s to be left unlocked. Casey and Megan stand at the Corolla.
Torn, I give Megan another begging look, but the one she returns tells me not to even consider it. I sigh as sink into my seat.
Good thing, Zed calls before I start driving.
“I spoke to Anastasiana,” he says. “She will meet us on Main Street in Hamburg.
“Perfect,” I say, then I inform him of the company I have in tow.
Of Megan, Zed says, “It’s a violation of the rules, but we can’t go back, I guess.”
I have my own objections, but anyway the deal is now sealed.
Fast, I drive, and we arrive in Hamburg. Anastasiana starts by giving us a special battle lotion that she has. It’s a lather that acts as an antidote to black magic and also demon poisons. After that, we drive straight to Eden, and then park on the road a distance away from the home like before. I am first to get out to meet with my team, leaving Casey and Megan inside the Toyota.
“There is the house.” I point at it to Zed and Anastasiana.
The ground still vibrates owing to the wards and the other magic finely distributed around. My two companions feel it, and I guess hearts are hammering.
“How do you propose we proceed?” asks Ana, breathing tensely.
“The backyard honestly is our best option,” I say. “We could raid it to create a distraction, and then Casey can steal his way in and claim the case.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” says Zed. “Casey will be immune to the hellfires, so let’s try that.”
Before anything, there is a need, though, to confirm that things generally are still like they were earlier. A careful scan from here shows that if there is still a lot of partying going on, it’s all inside. There is no activity at all at the front.
Good, that makes it safe to cross the road and approach the home, but let me get Casey to join us. I open the Toyota door, but turn first to Megan. “My dear, you aren’t going into the fight; you stay in the car,” I say. Honestly, there is no sexism involved; it’s just according to the rules. Casey is different in that he was directly harmed by The Mage’s actions, and so he can be involved, but only to a limited extent.
Megan this time doesn’t object, which is good. I then turn to Casey. “You, big guy, you come with us.”
He rises from his seat. It’s time for battle.
Seventy-one
After the finger has been burnt, and its juices harvested, there is a bit of a lull productionwise. Everyone leaves the workroom, and soon The Mage and her fellows are being regaled in the sitting room with all kinds of delicacies. Serge, who has taken his wife to a bedroom after getting a massive hard-on, hasn’t returned.
Even though she now regrets joining them, The Mage must admit this coven knows how to prepare for a celebration. Everything is lavish, particularly the decor in this living room. Black ribbons crisscross the ceiling. Balloons both gray and white sway in the air, fastened to a stand by means of strings. Here and there are placed rubber snakes, some with their mouths open to reveal scary fangs. The whole atmosphere is to give a sense of hell, but without the associated infernos.
The bacchanalia itself has gone up a notch, and the noise from the basement, as well as in here, has increased.
The Mage hates it all, and her stomach still churns—reviled by what Anarchy did to that finger. It proves hard to keep the wine she took from coming back up. Truly, this is barbaric. DB4R wouldn’t have been as hurtful, because there was always room she would hand back everything to the rightful owner once she got tired of the business. Or at least when she thought the bastard had been punished for long enough. Now burning everything up, how cruel.
The Partner has brought one tube from the workroom and still glares at it admiringly. He has asked that they continue to talk business even as the revelry progresses.
He can’t seem to wait. “So, what will we name it?” he raises the little glass thing, checking its corked end, which has the tiny straw going in.
“Call it Anais—the real me,” says Anarchy. “I have always wanted that name used on something big, and well, now we have it.”
“Sorry, that’s not possible,” The Partner advises. “The brand name Anais has already been taken.”
“Maybe call it The Mage,” suggests Pegi.
“We are all mages,” says Zenix. “There should be a distinction.”
“Why not call it Enigma then,” says The Partner, “in honor of this Mage here who has the most mysterious of powers.”
“Yes, Enigma it shall be,” agrees Anarchy. “Hey, let’s all celebrate to that name.”
***
Just then, that owl familiar of Anarchy’s flies in from the backdoor and hovers over them.
“Don’t tell me you are hungry. The meat I have is not for you.” Anarchy indicates at the plate of roasted chicken thighs on her plate.
The owl beats its wings and hoots. Anarchy shakes her head and then glares at The Mage. “Something came in, but it isn’t hostile.”
The Mage wonders what it could be. As she stands up to look, in walks Tyrese, and then he runs to twine himself between her legs. Truly, this is unimaginable. Her feline is back. In flesh and blood!
“He’s mine,” she cries.
The feline meows fiercely, and Anarchy and her partners scare a bit. They don’t seem used to feral cat familiars.
“Don’t you worry about him,” The Mage says.
The owl squawks again, perches itself on Anarchy’s shoulder as if to prod her, and then lifts off.
Anarchy’s face puzzles. “There is something again outside.”
The Mage thinks it might be Wheeler. “Excuse me,” she says. “I’ll go see.”
“I’m coming with you.” Anarchy sounds like she is wary of something. “Missie doesn’t usually do that.”
They follow Missie out the back door. The Mage peeks over the heads of the warlocks and witches making merry in the backyard. And instantly she sees it, the shadowy figure of Ratan hunched under a tree.
“Ratan,” she cries out loud. “You are back.”
The demon hisses a yes, I am in his magical language.
She races to him. The feeling is like a meeting a long lost boyfriend. It’s so incredible—the way Jove is blessing her by bringing her family back. She hugs the demon and for a moment she imagines his ashy lips tickling her nipples as he takes his soul bites. Things might yet get better again, but hey where is Wheeler?
Of the seven or eight warlocks and witches gathered in the backyard, few are actually able to see the apparition although all can hear and understand its Quimglich. Those who can’t see cork their ears at the source of ancient language, as though they were a bunch of Christians who have heard the utterances of an angel they can’t see.
“Give us some privacy,” The Mage says to all who have gathered around them. She wants to speak to Ratan alone. The coven members return to their business, men tending to the grill, while the women return to the night’s endless cackling.
“How did you survive?” she asks.
The demon gives his story in a long talk, then concludes with, “I am so pleased you didn’t try to follow us,” meaning him and the felines. “That huntress lai
d a trap you wouldn’t ever have escaped from.”
“Good, then. I was feeling so bad for losing you.”
The demon listens to all that but wants to switch to something else. “I sense something bad,” he says. “The Breaker let me go so she could find you. That’s why I am here, it’s to warn you. We should leave this place at once.”
Tyrese interrupts them by throwing himself on his back and wailing. The Mage decodes his behavior, and her heart sinks. Wheeler is dead. The demon seems to get it, too, and his shadow face scrunches.
The Mage sighs with painful memory but soon picks up Tyrese to console him. “We shall hold a small ceremony for him, but not here.”
“Too bad,” remarks Ratan. “Life’s short.” He then turns back to The Mage. “So, shall we take to the road or what? I saw the mood that The Breaker was in.”
The Mage weighs it against the assurances she has been given by this coven’s leadership. She is very much aware of the hellfires, too. Finally she says, “This place is fortified. There is nothing The Breaker can do.”
“Up to you then,” says Ratan, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“It’s fine, don’t you sweat it.”
Telling Anarchy and the group to be prepared would just be a formality. Those powerful wizards would never let anything happen to her and would say: stay, don’t worry…
Seventy-two
Ready, we now cross the road. Adrenaline kicks in as we survey the scene once more before making any rash moves. My muscles are taut with anticipation. All roads have been leading here; the thing we want is in that house. No need to do any more reveals or locates, what’s left just a daring, fateful execution.
“We can’t afford to make a mess,” says Zed, seeming able to read my mind.
Casey’s eyes light up. I am surprised he is able to contain himself and plan with us. I’d greatly feared he would rush to the house the moment we left the car. And I must say Megan, too, has won our hearts by agreeing to remain in the Toyota. With all the excitement and expectation, I never thought we could restrain her.
The air is hot, but some of the heat must be due to the hellfires. The tension is almost electric. We reach the sidewalk on the other side, but then stop again to observe things from afar. Unknown waves of suspense send the blood right into my temples.
More cars than before are now parked near the home. Right on its driveway, there is now four rather than the previous three I counted.
The four of us stand on the sidewalk and hammer the final strategy. Any mistakes from here on, we are done.
“We split into two pairs.” Zed has the command. “Melanie and I steal to the front and do the final peep, to see if the box is still in the same room.”
My heart jumps a little to imagine we might find the case’s contents burnt, but that’s being too pessimistic, and I suppress the thought.
“Casey and Anastasiana stand here for now,” Zed continues. “We will be coming back for you in a moment.”
I take a big breath, and here we start. It’s maybe twenty yards to the house, and I and Zed tiptoe fast. From all the noise, the revelry must have scaled up a degree. It’s like someone won a big Lotto or something.
The hellfire wards are sure as sharp as incendiary bombs, and the hum has now reached a hair-raising pitch. Since I already know where that prep room is, we avoid getting close to the porch and go straight for the window.
Inside, the lights are still on, and the blinds are open—thank God, that makes it easy to spy. The people who were in there before have left, but the rows of cocked tubes are still there. They now exist, though, in two separate batches. The small gas fire is still going, quite menacingly. The finger is completely burnt, the remaining charred bone dumped onto a small china plate. This is evil at its worst.
I let out a big sigh as I realize the big bonus is still there: that dark-brown case. It sits on the work counter, and instinct tells me it can’t be empty.
“Let’s get on with it,” I say to Zed wasting no more time. “Activating Concealer.” It’s a signal that battle is to begin.
That blurring spell named the concealer will help us move around with a lesser potential to be seen. The ingredients and wand for this utility casting have already been primed, and what’s left is to activate it by means of a chant. I murmur the Quimglich words.
Immediately the streetlights dull out as the invisible cloud of concealment rises and takes hold. We still can see relatively well ourselves, but our enemy’s eyes will be selectively impaired: them seeing each other well enough, but us not so much. The spell has a limited active time window, however, which is why it’s not initiated at random, but only at that precise moment when action is to begin. Such as right now.
We rush back toward where Casey and Anastasiana stand.
“Now come.” I beckon Ana. “Concealer is live.”
They dart to us. Next is to very quickly show Casey which room the case is so he will know where to go. We pace to the window.
“This one.” I point, and he glares into it.
It must for him be very tempting to want to just enter and grab the case, and I fear he might do something rash like breaking the panes, but that would be suicidal. The window is armed with burglar wards sensitive to broken glass, and he must wait until our whole plan is in action—and then go in through the main door where the hellfires won’t harm him.
“Stay on the porch until you hear us make a loud noise at the back,” says Zed reminding him of our strategy. He is also to check that almost every enemy inside has rushed to the backyard where we are going to cause chaos to attract attention.
“And finally, if all goes well, and you have grabbed the case, call me on my cell to give us a sign.” I already set the phone to vibrate.
Casey says fine.
Before he goes I add, “But only do it when you are securely back in the car with Megan.” I don’t want him to signal for an end to battle when he isn’t safe, and things are uncertain.
“Sure thing,” he whispers.
“Good, now we go.”
While Casey heads toward the porch, we dash toward the backyard. The gate is partly open, and a strong smell of barbecued meats wafts. All three of us are bathed in the concealer as we tiptoe in, but the spell is more active at the house front where Casey remains. I am leading then behind me is Zed while Anastasiana brings up the rear.
I gaze at the scene in front of us. In the grassy middle is a large table with a tall but furled umbrella. Several chairs are laid out around the table, each occupied by a witch or wizard. Every baddie has a glass of something before him or her.
We are outnumbered; I can count no less than ten foes here. An even bigger crowd makes noise inside.
“Open fire,” I shout, regardless, as we burst at the drinking and partying crowd.
Every one of the enemies first turns to look. My shout of fire has them in disarray. The concealer is not so strong this side, and they catch some hazy glimpses of us. A few jump up. Glasses are knocked off their bases, clink against each other and then roll off the table and into the grass. There is too many of the enemy, and we need to remain partly invisible if we are to succeed.
While the concealer haze thinly holds, I sting several wizards with my stinger. It temporarily paralyses them and many fall to the ground, wincing. Some strong ones among them fight back. One grabs Ana as she is chanting the smothering spells that will prevent neighbors waking up to hear the din going on. To free her, I sting the wizard almost to a coma.
Now I imagine Casey has heard the noise and wonder what kind of outing he is having at the front. Sounds of people pouring out of the basement erupt above the music, but I can’t see much through the door.
The warlocks and mages out here continue to fight back. They shout “Fiends, Fiends come to battle.” They throw punches and kick with their feet but because of the concealer, they can’t do a good job of nailing us the intended targets. Many end up grimacing or howling after hitting the
table or chairs.
One punch, though, catches me on the chest, and I reel, but I am so worked up with the battle spirits I feel no pain. Madly, I keep chanting the firing incantations while I aim at the foe. The stinger itself doesn’t disappoint and is spitting out disabling pulses faster than a cobra. Soon, writhing bodies are piled on the grass as the enemy falls.
As the fight gets hotter, I notice two yellow-red eyes drift down a tree branch. Those are the same ones we saw that night with Zed in Alden. The feline that the shelter released is up there, must be Tyrese. Briefly it pauses on a small limb, poises, and then springs.
“Feline,” Zed shouts, “same one.”
I am surprised how fierce the little fiend has become. It shoots for Ana and lands on her back, paws outstretched, sharp nails bared. In a moment, it’s biting and tearing at Ana’s clothing, but Zed grabs it with his hands. It turns to bite him, but he slams it to the grass.
I was already jumping in to help, but now must simply aim. My finger is on the firing groove of my stinger, and I shout and release the biggest pulse I have ever seen. It catches Tyrese as he is ready to spring up once more. The pulse zaps him in the ribs, and he collapses right there, yelping.
Fast, I produce my graveyard wand and tap it into him, and immediately he goes cold. The fire in his eyes snuffs out completely, and he is never to wake up again.
While I am finishing off the feline, the other enemy witches are swarming at Ana and Zed. Our coordinator does a good job of stopping them with punches and kicks. One strong wizard reaches him and grips his face, but Zed cuts him down with a karatelike chop to the throat. There is a grunt, and the wizard hits the grass.
The concealer is working against the enemy as they still can’t properly see us. More of them are pouring out the door, but they just trip over one another, and there is no coordination.
“Here, here,” they shout, but I keep firing, felling them in multitudes.
The noise is deafening, but Ana’s smothering will mean neighbors won’t hear.
