Minutes to Midnight

by Phaedra Weldon

  "What?" Mike looked from me to the book. "Dags?"

  I cleared my throat. "It says the Djin either killed or bribed or enslaved the Guardians, the humans chosen and imbued with the blood of the God Mother to guard the borders between the Worlds. Their favorite place to break into was the Material World so they could continue their corruption. The council, comprised of the Seraphim and the Phantasm and their Planar allies, voted to exile the Djins and any creature refusing the council's leadership."

  Mike sat forward with his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. "And?"

  I stopped because what I read next rang something inside of me. It was like a bell in the distance. And from the bell, I realized what I was reading was important.

  I just didn't know how. "It says the ensuing battle destroyed all of the Guardians, along with all humans possessing the God Mother's blood."

  "Wait, didn't Sam talk about this at one point? And that the God Mother's children were being reborn now?"

  "I think so. I read a shitload of history on this stuff in a bunch of files called the Dioscuri. The Guardians were destroyed in the Bulwark, but is this referring to that war? Is this what actually caused it?"

  "You think maybe all this is involved in whatever the God Mother's dark purpose was? The one Sam talked about?"

  I shrugged.

  Mike leaned in closer. "Does it say anything in there about how to get into the 'Pheral? If it's where Alfheim is—and given your condition when you reappeared I'd say yeah—then it has to be accessible by some other means because I don't think there's a Cairn in that alley by The Night Pub. Or does it say how to kill a Djin? That's what we need to be looking at."

  I had to tear my attention away from that section of the book and skim ahead. But I was going to go back to it. There were things there I needed to know. "I don't see anything…well, they're made of smoke and thought and little else." I moved my finger over the handwritten language. Some words didn't come easy to me and I had to skip them. "Here it says…."

  "Will you stop stopping like that?"

  "Sorry—I just can't translate it. I think this is in a dialect I don't know. It says there is a being that can kill a Djin, but I don't know what it is."

  "Only another creature can kill it? There's no means? Silver? Salt? Bullets?"

  I shook my head and continued reading. "The name issue is the biggest weapon against a Djin. I guess it's the precursor to the wishes legends. If you know a Djin's real name, then you use it as the price for a wish, though Rippin' Ja— called it a hire."

  "Well, that's something."

  "You can use…iron to paralyze it." Wow. Interesting. Iron?

  "Iron? That's sort of weird and Faerie isn't it?"

  "Yeah, but that thing wasn't a Faerie. Trust me." Skimming the rest of the text, I shook my head. "Not a lot there I can translate."

  "What about the Peripheral?"

  Oh, that was a good question. I flipped around to the P section and scanned through.

  "Nothing. There's not a single mention of the Peripheral."

  "What about the 'Pheral?"

  "Yeah…" I looked up at him from the page. "It says 'Death.'"

  I really, really wanted another aspirin.

  A NEW PLAYER

  Needless to say, I'd missed work that day. And sword class. Mike had managed to smooth things over with my boss at Kevin Barry's. My being feverish when Illiana dropped by helped add a bit to the verisimilitude of the half-lie. She told them she'd seen me and I was very sick.

  Apparently she visited three times before Mike told her I was doing fine and let her actually step into the bedroom to see me.

  And like all things in my life I didn't have control of, Mike rescheduled sword class on the same day my boss, Mark Donovan, scheduled me to work. It all coincided with my return to the land of the living.

  I did not want to go to sword class, and I wasn't in the mood to kata anything. Yet part of my defense as a Guardian included wielding a flaming sword that appeared out of—we assumed—the tattoos in my hands, so…I had to learn a few Obi-Wan moves so I wouldn't get my ass kicked. Or killed.

  Hacking and slashing zombie hands aside.

  I wanted to go find Stella. And after a lot of arguing, Mike sat back and held up his hands. "Where?"

  "The Peripheral, where else? That's where she is."

  He glared at me. "So, you got any ideas where that is? Or how to get there?"

  I pursed my lips. "Well…if Alfheim is in the 'Pheral, then wouldn't the gate in that drain in Bonaventure work?"

  "No. I sealed it."

  "You shut the door."

  "Yeah, and since then, I've gone back to check. It's closed. It's just a drain now. And no, I don't want to go find Thomas Rhymer and start that shit again." He stood up. "Pile on that staph infection after we came through and you were the sickest I've ever seen you, Dags. Sam and I weren't even nauseous. You took the brunt of everything. You're not going back into the Peripheral, or anywhere else until you get better. And you need practice. We need to work out—well, I need to so I can think straight."

  I agreed to clear my head and go through a workout, then, whether Mike wanted to or not, I was going to find Thomas. The old carriage driver had gotten us into Alfheim before.

  I was stiff and no amount of aspirin I consumed was helping the soreness. I'd already had too many and what remained in my stomach had eaten a hole through the lining, which now churned as we stood off the mat in the dojo and waited.

  Usually Shi-han Shu was already in the dojo, waiting on us and ready to make fun of me. He had a name for me: Short-round. Put me up barefoot against Shu and Mike, and I was the smallest. Maybe it was my girlish figure?

  Dressed in a rumpled and wrinkled white gi, I twitched as my ankle went to sleep and looked around for any sign of Shi-han. "Maybe I should go in the back and check?"

  Mike was the perfect image of calm and serene with his eyes closed and his hands precisely resting on the center of his thighs…bastard made me sick. "You remember what happened last time you went in the back to check?"

  I cringed. "Yeah…but Sensei Pam said he got rid of that."

  "I heard it sprang a leak." He shrugged. "Your funeral."

  "I'll be fine." I stood up, not too gracefully but solidly, and pattered barefoot around the mat to the farthest door. A curtain hanging from the top and ending at my chest blocked what was inside from view. And since I already knew it was a hall leading to a small kitchen, a secondary meditation room, and the bathrooms, I wasn't that worried or wary.

  Should have been more careful.

  Something solid clocked me in the back of the head just past the doorframe. I saw stars and went forward to the floor. I managed to land on all fours, my shoulder screaming out at the impact. My vision wavered as I tried really damn hard not to pass out. A hand grabbed my collar and half-tossed me, half pushed me forward. I was airborne for a split second and landed on my back further down the hall. I had enough sense to avoid cracking my head on the hall's tiled floor. There was concrete underneath and it didn't do nice things to skulls.

  I had no idea who was attacking me since they continued their attacks from my blind spots. And I was having a hell of a time just focusing on not getting killed. For all I knew it was the Djin again, and at any moment it'd pull me back to the Peripheral. Well, that wasn't going to happen. The Grimoire opened with just the idea I needed, ready to show me the right spell.

  Whoever or whatever it was came closer from behind. With a small boost of energy I pulled myself into a sitting position, focused my will behind me and yelled, "Usmi amelnakru!"

  Light flared and whited out the floor, ceiling, and walls. The spell was to reveal my enemy. I knew I'd hit something. I hoped it wasn't one of Shi-han's students.

  Or Shi-han.

  That would be bad.

  Sticking around would be bad, too, so I scrambled to my feet, experienced a nasty bout of dizziness, and started down the hall away from the main matt
to the back room. A gunshot preceded something whizzing by my ear, giving my mop of hair a nice trim before it struck the drywall of the hall. My blast hadn't hurt them much if they could still shoot that close—or I'd missed. I had a list of spells I rotated through, so once I reached the end of that, I'd panic. Right now, I just hoped Mike had heard the gunshot and was on his way.

  The words and mathematics of another spell came as the book stirred in my chest. I turned and held out my hands. A large pentagram appeared between me and an approaching shadow. It glowed bright white, a neon "back off" sign hanging in the air.

  "Batiltu."

  A feminine voice cried out as the shadow disappeared and in its place stood a woman in a black gi. She had a gun in her hand, a large one. Not as large as Mike's Desert Eagles, but still big. She stood frozen in mid-run, suspended in a cloud of twinkling light. Her face was a mask of rage and her eyes darted around in their sockets. She looked panicked.

  I heard Mike's footsteps down the hall before I saw him. He stopped behind the frozen woman, his own eyes wide. "What the hell?"

  "She attacked me and then shot at me."

  "So you froze her?"

  "Yeah…" I didn't know how long she'd stay frozen, so I stepped forward and pulled the gun from her hand, then reached around her elbow to give it to Mike.

  Her hand moved fast, and she had hold of my forearm before Mike could get to the gun. But the rest of her didn't move, so I figured she could only free that much of herself. Which, unfortunately, was enough.

  Mike took the gun from my hand and pressed the barrel to her head. "I suggest you let him go before I make a nice splatter pattern on that wall."

  She didn't let go. Not at first. And her grip hurt. When she did release me, I stumbled back and held onto my bruising arm. Feeling returned to my fingers and I wiggled them.

  "That's good. Now, let's start with who the fuck you are and why you went after my friend?" Mike said.

  I didn't think she'd answer at first, and I felt her pushing at the spell holding her so I released enough of it so she could speak, pretty much the same way I'd released Darius that morning in front of The Night Pub.

  I wasn't real sure how the magic worked most of the time. There were kinetic spells as well as what I called weaving spells. The kinetics were short bursts of energy with purpose, like the one I'd used earlier in the day. One and done. Like fire. The one I was using on her now was a weaving one, which meant I was still putting energy into it as the spell wove around her physical form and kept her in position.

  Which, translated, meant I was getting tired because doing that depleted my own reserves. And the more she pushed, the more energy was used to keep her still. So I leaned against the wall and watched her. "Look, you can answer or we can just leave you here until the spell dissipates. Either way, until it does, you're vulnerable."

  She was looking at me. Dark brown eyes that, as I watched, went black. The pupil expanded out toward the iris and then filled the white. I'd only seen that happen with one type of Dark creature.

  A Revenant.

  When she spoke, I heard the duel tone as the First Born inside of her spoke through the voice of its host. "You really think you can continue feeding energy into this spell, little Djin? Sooner or later—sooner, I'd guess, from the dark circles under your eyes—you'll tire and when you do, I will finish you."

  There were several things wrong with that sentence, but I focused on the reference to a Djin, and the fact she thought I was one. Mike pushed the gun harder against her temple, actually making her tilt her head to the side. "Lady, I think you got your facts wrong. He's not a Djin."

  She laughed. "I'm not stupid, you little monkey. I can smell it on him."

  "Smell what?" Mike said.

  "The 'Pheral. That's a reek that never goes away. And that's where it belongs."

  I continued leaning against the wall and cleared my throat. "First off, I'm not a Djin. There's no essence like that possessing me. You are a Revenant. But not one I recognize, so that means you're not part of Mephistopheles' little family. You know about the Peripheral, and that's more than I've ever heard from the others, so that makes you interesting."

  I don't know which part of what I said got to her, but her facial features visibly relaxed as her grimace of anger faded. Mike kept the gun pressed against her. "Dags, I don't think we need to keep antagonizing it. This girl might have that damn Djin in her."

  "Rippin' Ja—?" I shook my head. "Nah, he's not in there. She is possessed, though—just not by a Djin."

  "You should keep your tongue silent, boy," she said in a low voice. "Mortals do not need to know of us."

  "Mike's my best friend. And he's ready to blow your brains out until you tell us why you attacked me."

  "I told you. You're possessed of a Djin. It is my right to hunt you and put you down."

  "I am not a Djin. I fought a Djin and lost. But it's not inside of me."

  "I smell it on you. I feel power around you."

  "How can I prove to you I'm not what you think?" But I already knew the answer. To a Revenant, the blood held the answers. It fed the First Born, strengthened the human host, and gave power to the bond. And from tasting blood, a Revenant could possibly know that individual's truth if they wanted to see. Most often, a Revenant didn't look when it fed. Having a human host meant a soul, and a soul wouldn't be able to accept its new life bonded to a Daemon if it could know the secrets of another before it killed it.

  Her red lips pulled up in a wide smile as her teeth descended over her lower lip.

  DEAD MAN'S PARTY

  Mike couldn't see her face from his vantage point, which sort of ruined the effect. He was listening, though. "So? What does she want?"

  "She wants blood."

  "I know that. She tried to kill you. I mean, what kind of proof does she want that you're not a Djin?"

  There wasn't any other way to do this, and the energy needed to hold her in place was wearing on me. Expending energy for the blast had already decreased the power meter by a quarter, and I hadn't had nearly enough quality sleep not riddled with fever or food to replenish any of it. This was the only way. I just hoped she knew to stop before she killed me.

  I rolled up the right sleeve of my gi. "You kill me, and Mike kills you. Got it?"

  "Wait…what're you doing?" Mike asked.

  "Just keep that gun at her head, please?" I stepped forward and put my wrist against her lips. I felt the hard surface of her fangs. "And if she kills me, blow her fucking brains out." I was tired and irritable and this might have been a stupid thing to do, but right now having a Revenant's trust and knowledge seemed like a good idea.

  She didn't waste any time, opening her mouth to take a wide bite. Most Revenants as they aged didn't bother using their fangs. I'd seen Jason simply open skin with a wave of his hand, feed, and then close the wound with little to no scarring. He'd told me the ones who still used fangs were the First Borns who enjoyed the taste of adrenaline in the blood as the fear the sight of their teeth infused their intended food.

  Not to mention the vampire myth was still pretty vogue right now. So…go figure.

  But vogue or not, it hurt like a mother and I hissed as she locked on. My arm and shoulder trembled, still aching from being pulled from its socket. She closed her eyes and took her first swallow—

  I don't know if it was because I was already tired or if the blood ended the magic, but I woke up on the floor, cradled in her arms with Mike hovering over me. I noticed her head wasn't blown off so I knew I wasn't dead.

  Not yet.

  "Hey…you back?" Mike's voice was gentle and worried. As usual.

  "Yeah…" I looked up at the Revenant, whose eyes had returned to their human brown color. Her skin was radiant in the light of the hall. "Not a Djin, huh?"

  "On the nose," she said, and her voice was singular now. "I am sorry, Guardian. I didn't know who you were. I've been told about you but never given an image."

  "Ah. Interesting." I s
tarted to get up, hit a wall of dizzy, and collapsed back down. "Oh gawd…what did you take? A gallon?"

  "I'm afraid I took more than I should. Did you know your blood tastes of wood and iron?"

  "Huh?"

  "Wood and iron?" Mike said.

  She pursed her lips in thought. "Yes. I would assume the wood comes from the Grimoire's pages. But the iron…it's not a mundane taste. It's what convinced me you were 'Pheral. It's as if you have a part of the Peripheral inside of you, along with the Abysmal and Ethereal."

  I blinked up at her. "Wow…that's way too much happening inside of me."

  She nodded. "I believe all of this is what's made you anemic."

  "Anemic?"

  Mike snorted. "That explains a few things. I thought his always wanting a nap was just being lazy."

  "I suggest you have a nutritionist fix your diet or you'll burn out too fast. Guardians like you aren't born every day." Raven brushed hair from my face.

  "I wasn't born. I was made." I took several deep breaths and tried to sit up again. This time I succeeded, but grabbed for Mike. He pulled me forward until I was sitting on my own. "Mom, do I have to do katas today? I'm so fucking sleepy."

  "Yeah…I think getting sucked on by a vampire is pretty much the greatest excuse ever."

  "Revenant," she said. "I'm not as into the vampire pop culture scene as most. Though I do enjoy my teeth. But then, three hundred years of using them sets a pattern." She turned and settled down on one side of my legs as I pushed back to lean against the wall. "My name is Raven. I was one of God Mother's children before my Demon saved my life."