Calling the Wild

by Lila Dubois

  One by one she killed them. They may have already been dead, but they didn’t know. She had to make sure.

  Her face was calm, remote, that of an avenging goddess, as she sank the sword through meat and flesh to pierce the hearts beneath. When she’d pieced the last heart and pulled the sword, stained with black blood, free, she ran to Kiron.

  Using the edge of her shirt she wiped at the blood on Kiron until she could examine one of the punctures. Her face was calm, and when she pushed her hair back from her face with her forearm, she left a long streak of black monster blood.

  “The acid is eating through you. We need to extract the acid before healing you. Otherwise it might only seal the acid inside.”

  She raced to the other corner of the warehouse, throwing open her trunks. Kiron’s front legs gave out and he crashed to the floor, his human shoulder sliding painfully down the rusted metal wall. There were bright sparks darting through the edges of his vision. He closed his eyes.

  “Stay with me!” Moira yelled as she returned to him. She paused once, beside one of the beasts, and knelt near its head, then she was back up, moving quickly towards him, though no longer running. She dropped to her knees in front of him, holding up a small vial.

  “This might hurt. I need you to drink this.”

  The weight of his head fell into her hands as she cupped his face, and Moira gave him a small shake. “Kiron, please, I need you to drink this.” A small bottle was pressed to his lips, but he couldn’t drink it, the pain had shut down his body, conserving all energy for the basic functions of pumping blood and breathing.

  The bottle left his lips, and Kiron’s eyes slid shut once more. Warm, soft lips replaced the cool of the bottle. She kissed him slowly, though he could taste her desperation. Lips and tongue coaxed his mouth open as she tipped his head back. The kiss ended and bitter liquid spilled down his tongue, pooling in his throat and forcing him to swallow.

  It tasted of bitter herbs and stream water, but relief came on swift wings. The pain from the acid wounds lessened and Kiron was able to raise his head, blinking until his vision cleared.

  Moira’s face crumpled with relief, her lower lip shaking as she expelled the breath she’d been holding.

  “It worked.”

  “Yes.”

  “I need to draw out the poison,” her tone was apologetic, her face pulled into a worried frown. Kiron rubbed the thumb of his good hand over the frown line between her brows.

  “Do it.”

  Moira nodded and picked up her spell bowl. There were a few drops of murky thick liquid on the bottom of the heavily magicked bowl. It was spit from one of the dead beasts that she’d stopped to collect on her way.

  She slipped her athame from its sheath and used it to open shallow slices in each palm. She let a few drops of blood drip into the bowl, where it sizzled and smoked as it touched the acid.

  Moira held her right hand palm down over the bowl. Blood steam curled up between her fingers. The other hand she placed over Kiron’s ribs, atop a cluster of wounds.

  She was trembling, frightened.

  “I do not know if this will work, but I’m going to try.”

  The statement didn’t fill Kiron with confidence, but he could not draw the acid out himself, so he would trust her. Raising his good hand he pressed it between her breasts and pushed a thin trickle of power into her. Too much power might overwhelm her and cause her control to slip, but he could ensure that she was continuously fed.

  Moira calmed, her chest rising against his hand with a deep breath.

  “By my will I call forth that which wounds. From flesh to flesh be gone, find home with your kind. Leave without harm, and let no remnant be left behind. From flesh to flesh be gone.”

  Her hands glowed. Pure green light seeped through her fingers against his chest. The sensation was no more than a tickle, though he suspected that if she had not numbed his pain it would have been agony.

  Moira’s expression suddenly changed, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream. Kiron looked down to where her hand was pressed to his ribs. Beneath their skin, his and hers, balls of acid moved. The small balls pulsed beneath the skin of his arm and chest as they made their way to the point where her hand rested on him. Every drop of acid the beast flung at him coalesced beneath her hand.

  The back of Moira’s hand was swollen and distorted.

  She was taking the acid into her own flesh. Kiron let out a roar, terrified for her, not wanting her to experience the blinding agony he felt. He tried to knock her hands away, but his own arms were frozen, one against her chest, the other to his side.

  Soon there were no moving lumps beneath his skin. As he watched, the distorting ball of acid dissolved, flattening into a round disc beneath her skin. The bracelet of poison slowly worked up her arm, distorting her flesh as it went. At her shoulder the poison became three long thin rods that traveled across her chest, slithering over her collarbones before sliding down her other arm.

  One by one the wires of acid-filled magic curled into the flesh of her hand. The poison dripped from the slice in her palm, oozing down into the bowl, coated in her bright red blood. When the last drop fell Moira gasped out a single word, so garbled that Kiron could not understand it.

  The skin over the path the poison had taken flashed green. She had used a flare of hot magic to cleanse away any remaining trace of poison.

  As the light faded, Moira collapsed.

  Kiron caught her against his chest with his good arm, and then cast a spell of his own. The Wild could heal itself quickly, now that the acid was gone. A few whispered words and the cleaned punctures healed, flesh reforming, the rib bone the acid had eaten away growing once more.

  Kiron wrapped his other arm around her, holding her tight to his chest as he rose up on all four hooves. He was still a bit unsteady, opting to rest for a moment before shifting Moira so he held her draped across both arms. He trotted over to her personal area, kneeling on his front legs to lay her on the bed.

  He didn’t know how long she would be out, but they needed to get out of here. Wanting to let her rest, Kiron threw the scattered items on the floor into the open trunk and closed the lid. He grabbed a handle of each of the massive trunks and lifted them with a grunt.

  In three trips he had everything but the bed she slept on in the back of the van. He’d peeked into the bathroom, saw that there were a few items in there including a mirror, but couldn’t get through the door. He would have to change. He cleaned off the sword and slipped it into its scabbard. Rather than change while wearing the scabbard, making it a part of his body, he took it off.

  The changed flowered over him in a shower of white magic. He staggered as the magic faded. His human form always felt weak and short until he got used to it. He hadn’t really thought about what clothes should drape his body, and the magic had defaulted him to a pair of fine wool black pants and a button-up blue shirt with the collar open. The simple black and blue outfit had served him well in the past. He slipped the sword over his shoulder, adjusting the buckles on the strap so it hugged his chest, smaller in this form than as a centaur.

  He grabbed the items from the bathroom and hauled them to the van, irritated by how short his human stride was.

  Finally there was nothing left but Moira herself.

  Kiron knelt at her side, tucking a hank of curling hair behind his ear when it fell into his face.

  “Moira.” He smoothed her hair back, playing with one of the bright green streaks. “Wake now.”

  She turned her face to his hand, warm breath feathering his palm. Kiron rubbed her lower lip with his thumb, and when her lips parted he couldn’t help but rub the soft, wet, inner surface of her lip.

  “Moira,” he said again, louder this time, “wake.”

  Her long eyelashes fluttered up. Her slumberous almond eyes were like those of a dark courtesan, or the nimble-fingered nymphs he preferred.

  The temptation to push up the thin fabric of her shirt and toy with
her breasts was nearly irresistible. Centaurs were not used to denying their lustful urges, they were a randy race, but the dead carcasses of six water monsters trumped the urges of his cock, and Kiron slipped his finger from her mouth, helping her to sit up.

  “We must leave. They will know the water beasts are dead and may send something else.”

  “Purify.”

  “What?”

  “Need to purify the building, so they cannot trace me.” She was still groggy, but waking up fast.

  “How?”

  “Water.”

  “No, that is their element,” Kiron jerked his head at the fallen beasts. “It cannot be water.”

  “Then fire.”

  “That will work.”

  With Kiron’s assistance Moira rose. She looked at him, smiling when she didn’t have to look up far to meet his gaze.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “I was getting a kink in my neck looking at you.”

  “Don’t get used to it. The human form is next to useless.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “It’s not my fault that you’re short and your body fleshy and weak.”

  Moira rolled her eyes and looked around. “Where is all my stuff?”

  “In the van.”

  “Oh. Thank you. Any chance you left me some shoes?”

  Kiron looked down at her bare feet. “No.”

  “That will make this a bit more difficult.”

  “I will carry you through the filth.”

  They made their way to the door of the warehouse, and Moira dissolved the protection spell for the last time. She’d stayed in the warehouse longer than she’d been able to stay in any place for months. The spell had done its job.

  Kiron lifted Moira and carried her outside, setting her on the high hood of the van.

  Moira closed her eyes and, in the darkness of her mind, envisioned the spell she would use. A ring of fire around the building, the ring drawing ever tighter, igniting all it touched.

  She raised her arms, encompassing the building in her embrace, and cast. “My will is strong and my need is great. Light and heat, fire make. A ring cast once, but not still.”

  In her mind’s eye Moira could see the glittering orange ring that circled the warehouse. The color deepened, heading towards red, and Moira’s power began to dim.

  Before Kiron, she would have driven the spell until her magic was dry, but now she reached out, drinking of his power like a desert traveler in an oasis. The circle glowed red and then burst into flames. She opened her eyes and watched as the line of fire slowly burned toward the building, leaving scorched cement and ashes of burned garbage in its wake. The fire circle met the corners of the building and Moira pushed more power into it.

  The fire was so hot the metal glowed red, large cracks snaking up the walls. It moved on, relentless, as the building started to collapse, the foundations melting. What windows remained shattered, and metal groaned. An acrid stench wafted from the building, and Moira knew that the fire was consuming the bodies of the water monsters.

  The northeast corner gave way first, crumbling with a scream of metal. It pulled the other walls down, the roof tumbling after them. The southwest corner stood alone, a newly made ruin in this desolate landscape, until the fire, still raging under the thousands of pounds of wood and metal, burst forth, consuming everything and bringing the final corner of the building crashing.

  Moira winced as it fell, the resulting crash loud enough to be heard for miles.

  The twisted mass of metal glass and wood looked like the gruesome aftermath of an apocalypse in the morning light. The fall of the building allowed bright gold sunshine to illuminate the dark corners of the alley, highlighting the crumbling brick and garbage.

  Amid the long shadows of the wreckage, Moira thought she saw a thrashing spiked tail, and the scream of burning metal might have been the scream of one of the beasts, a creature of water sentenced to death by fire. Bile rose in her throat, and Moira turned away from the sight.

  Kiron lifted her and carried her to the driver’s door. Moira opened the door and then grabbed onto the seat and hauled herself in, grateful not to have stepped on the rough, cold metal of the steps. Kiron came around the other side and climbed in.

  There were no sirens, no sign that the world knew of the burning building they left behind as Moira drove away.

  Moira eased to a stop at a light, turning to look at Kiron.

  His long legs were stretched out, encased in expensive black slacks and his hands were folded on his belly as he slouched in the seat. He looked relaxed.

  Moira had become desensitized to things like setting warehouses on fire and fighting water monsters, but Kiron’s calm surprised her.

  “You seem relaxed.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “We were almost killed.”

  “Almost doesn’t matter. Only death is final, and even that is not always so.”

  Moira flexed her bare toes against the brake pedal, considering his words.

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “I am. We go to Chicago now?”

  “Yep, we go to Chicago.”

  Chapter Nine

  In two days they drove the nearly nine hundred miles between the east coast of New Jersey and Chicago. They’d hit traffic on Interstate 76 as they passed through Pennsylvania and Ohio, paid more than was fair in tolls on Interstate 80 through Indiana, and finally hooked up with Interstate 90, which took them the rest of the way to Chicago.

  Moira had done all of the driving. Kiron didn’t know how, and her one attempt to teach him was more terrifying than any number of ferocious beasts sent by her enemies.

  Exhausted from the eight hours of driving she’d done today, Moira eased the van into the parking lot of a little hotel outside Chicago. They were far enough away from the city that green fields surrounded the little hotel and flanked the freeway.

  Twilight made the fields glow like acres of emerald, while the sky dripped with orange and pink that faded to topaz directly overhead, before melting to black against the eastern horizon.

  Moira groaned as she put the vehicle in park. The van was not an easy ride, and her butt was numb from hours spent on the poorly sprung seat. Beside her Kiron looked just as uncomfortable.

  “Can we get out?”

  “Yes, finally.”

  Moira swung open her door and climbed down. She was wearing the same clothes she’d pulled out of the trunks yesterday when they stopped for breakfast. A stretchy pink T-shirt with jeans and black and pink Pumas turned out to be a good traveling outfit since it didn’t show wrinkles.

  Slinging her long-strapped bag over one shoulder, Moira headed into the office of the motel. Last night they’d had to stop at three different places before she found one that would take cash without asking for her ID or a credit card.

  Tonight it didn’t look like they had that many options, this was the only hotel for miles. Just outside the door Moira stopped and fluffed her, now blonde, hair. Plastering her best oh-aren’t-I-cute-and-trustworthy grin in place she opened the door.

  The robust woman behind the counter gave her a thorough once over and then smiled.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “Gosh, I sure hope so. I need a room for the night.”

  “I have a few available.”

  She swiveled on the stool behind the counter, muting the reality show that murmured annoyingly from the TV on the counter. Moira scooted up to the counter and peered over the edge. Rather than clicking through a computer log the woman was flipping through a large book. Perfect.

  “I have a smoking room with two double beds, or a non smoking with a queen.”

  She couldn’t stand being in a room that reeked of old cigarette smoke all night. “I’ll take the non-smoking please.”

  “That’ll be 79.50.”

  Moira carefully fished out four twenties and handed them to the lady.

  “I’m gonna need a credit card for i
ncidentals.”

  “Gosh, could I just give you cash? I really don’t wanna use my card, but I’m really neat and tidy, honest.”

  The lady sat up straight in her stool and gave Moira a once over. She had a brief moment of panic that she’d forgotten to change her eyebrows blonde to match her hair, but the lady smiled and nodded. Either she’d done her eyebrows right or the woman didn’t care about eyebrows and the rest of her had passed muster.

  “All right, young lady, if I can just have you fill this out and then I’ll make a copy of your driver’s license and get you your key.

  Moira pulled out her wallet and handed over her license, taking her time to carefully and completely fill out of the form as the woman behind the counter made a copy of her license on the little desktop printer.

  Moira traced three interlocking circles on the paper with her index fingers and then tapped it twice. When the woman turned back Moira handed her the paper in exchange for her license. The woman stapled the photocopy to her information sheet and filed them both away.

  Bent to look for the correct key amid those hanging from a pegboard propped against the wall, the woman didn’t see the small puff of smoke that rose from her file box as Moira’s application and driver’s license picture went up in smoke.

  “There you go, miss.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Key in hand, Moira turned to the door. Standing against the wall was a brochure rack, full of tourist activity brochures and attractions. Moira grabbed one of everything that said museum.

  Kiron was leaning against the grill of the van, legs stretched, elbows resting on the hood.

  Moira waved him over and started down the line of numbered doors until she reached the correct one. Kiron came behind her as she inserted the key and opened the door.

  After the recirculated air of the van and the muggy heat outside, the air-conditioned room was a delight. Moira collapsed on the bed and groaned while Kiron closed the door.

  “There is only one bed.”

  “We’ll share. The only room with two beds was a smoking room.”

  Light swelled in the room, and when Moira looked up Kiron was in his centaur form. He shivered, and the movement traveled all through his body, ending with a swish of his tail.