by Jayne Faith
The air filled with red specks, like a fine mist of blood. It hit Sheila in the face first. Her skin began to splotch, and the red areas quickly boiled into blisters. She screeched as the blisters spread over her bare arms. It was hitting the others, too, and when the mist engulfed the necromancer mage who’d been keeping me from the in-between, I felt a subtle release in my chest. The spell he’d been using to keep me from fading into limbo land had dissolved.
Damien’s father had the presence of mind to draw air magic and try to blow back against the crimson mist, and one of the other mages began to form a magical container to trap it. In a few seconds, they’d have it contained. Now was my chance.
I ran out of breath and turned my attention inward to my reaper. Together, we reached out to the realm of souls, and I faded from the land of the living.
Chapter 16
I KNEW I had maybe a few seconds before their necromancer tried to wrench me out of the in-between. The skeletal shape I took in limbo land was too thin to be held by the restraints. I slipped my arms out from under the straps and quickly released the ones around my chest, waist, and legs and stepped away from the gurney. I whipped around, looking for an escape. At the same time, I reached out with my senses, searching for the nearest river of underground magic—a ley line from which I could draw power. There was one in the vicinity, but it was miles away. Better than nothing.
I ran for the open doorway and burst through it, only to find myself in another room that was a dead end. Just as I wheeled around to go back the way I’d come, the center of my chest twitched as if my reaper were jerking in alarm. A second later, a ghostly figure materialized in front of me.
Damn. It was the Steins’ necromancer. I had no idea how he was projecting himself into the in-between without the aid of a reaper soul, but the answer had to be some insanely powerful mage magic.
I reached for my chain whip, which the mages had been arrogant enough to leave on my belt. It fell to the ground like a little waterfall of metal.
“This is my realm,” I growled, my voice not really my own.
My forearms met, and the sigils on them lit up with silver light as ley line magic flooded into me. It hurt like hell, but not as bad as Sheila’s torture. At least with this pain, I was in charge. I didn’t absolutely have to use the trick of the sigils to draw ley line magic in the in-between, but I knew it looked impressive and I was going for intimidation.
Silver magic sparked down the length of the whip as I flicked my wrist and sent the power-imbued razor chain flying through the air toward the necromancer’s ghostly image. I wasn’t sure what damage I could do, if any, to a projection, but I was willing to try every trick I had.
The necromancer raised his hands, palms out, and balls of pure white magic pulsed toward me. I quickly changed the trajectory of the whip to intercept the barrage of golf-ball sized orbs. My magic and the mage’s magic clashed and sparked, seeming to burn away the gray mist.
I needed to get past this asshole. I switched the whip handle to my left hand and continued to fend off the attack. Allowing Xaphan, my reaper, to come forth, I raised my right hand. He knew what I wanted to do. The reaper’s blade appeared in my hand, and I stalked toward the mage, my whip flying in a spiral to deflect his magic.
“Get out, or I’ll reap you right now,” I ground out, brandishing the reaping knife.
The mage’s attack faltered and sputtered down to nothing. His image stumbled backward and then winked out of sight.
The knife disappeared from my hand. I let go of the ley line magic, and it receded into the ground like a serpent slithering back to its lair. With no time to gather my whip, I dragged it behind me as I sprinted through the doorway, back out another door, and flew into the hallway. Kicking up great puffs of mist, I made a wild dash down the stairs, out through the lobby, and into the eternal gray twilight of the in-between. I sprinted away from the Brownstone.
I couldn’t have actually reaped the mage’s soul, but he didn’t know that. Probably wasn’t a trick I’d be able to get away with again, but it had worked this time, and it had been enough. Back when Xaphan had still been trying to take over my body and mind, I would have been able to reap the souls of the living. It turned out Xaphan was kind of dirty as far as reapers went. But he and I had made a deal, an agreement to live in symbiosis with each other. Part of the deal was that he couldn’t ever use my hand to reap souls of the living. I wasn’t going to let him turn me into a murderer. But I’d discovered that he would let me brandish the reaping blade, and I might even say he enjoyed doing it.
There was a water feature in Boston Common, not far from where I’d exited the park. I made a turn and ran harder, aiming in what I hoped was the right direction, with my bladed whip clinking along the ground behind me.
I heard footsteps pursuing me, and my heart tried to jump up my throat. Or it would have, if I had a normal body in limbo land. Someone was gaining on me, but I couldn’t go any faster. When Loki pulled even with me, I nearly crashed into a streetlight in panic before I realized it was him.
“Good boy.” I gave him a little grin, and he grinned back. “Let’s get the hell out of here, huh? We need water.”
I wasn’t sure I was going the right way and was just about to pause and pop into the realm of the living to check my map when Loki pulled ahead. He looked back at me and then veered off the street into an alley. Figuring he might have sniffed out water, I followed him.
He led me to what looked like a library or part of a university—the signage wasn’t visible in this realm—and a splashing rock fountain centered on the landing after a short flight of steps. We jogged up, and I nearly reached for the water, picturing the kitchen at home in my mind.
But then I remembered my face on the news. I was wanted. Shit. I couldn’t go home. And what about Deb and Roxanne? I needed a place to hide out from the authorities and from the mages. Rogan’s old house was still vacant last time I checked. When he’d first shown me the trick with the water, he’d used a pond in the yard of one of his neighbors. I formed the image in my mind’s eye and then trailed my skeletal fingers across the water in the catch basin at the bottom of the fountain.
Loki and I shifted back in Boise. Even though I knew I’d be pursued, it was a relief to be back home. I walked the half block or so to Rogan’s, went around to the yard, and popped back into the living realm. I let out a relieved breath when I discovered it was dark out. I found the key hidden under a rock in the border planting area that ran along one side of the small deck, and I let myself and Loki inside.
Rogan had no next of kin, so I wasn’t sure how his house was being handled. If payments stopped, I supposed the bank would eventually repossess it and sell it. But for the moment, it was still furnished with his things, and I was incredibly grateful to find the heat was still on.
Leaving the lights off, I made my way through the kitchen to the living room. I stood there in the dark, holding my phone in my hand. I couldn’t power it on. The authorities would trace my location. I went to the bedroom. There on the nightstand was Rogan’s phone, the burner I’d bought him. I rummaged around until I found the charger in a kitchen drawer and plugged in the device.
Dialing Deb’s number from memory, I called her.
“Hello?” her voice sounded strained and tired.
“It’s me,” I said.
There was a shuddering inhalation. “Oh my god, Ella! What the hell is going on?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Are you alone?” I sure hoped so, seeing as how she’d just hollered my name.
“Roxanne is here, but she’s asleep,” she said. “What happened?”
“It’s the mages,” I said. “They’re setting it up so no one will question Evan trying to close the rips, and when he dies, it will be a tragic but heroic accident. And they’re obviously trying to keep me from interfering.”
“This is insanity,” she said shakily. It sounded like she’d started crying. “Are you safe?”
“Y
eah, I think so,” I said. “But I obviously can’t tell you where I am. I’m assuming someone’s already been there looking for me.”
“Local police and some feds.”
“Did they harass you?”
“They tried, but then I faked some labor pains and they backed off.”
I let out a short laugh, and the sound surprised me. I wouldn’t have guessed I’d even be capable of laughter at that point.
“What do you need?” she asked. “How are we going to fix this?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. I heaved an exhausted sigh. “The mages have really screwed me.”
“I’m going to talk to the coven,” Deb said firmly.
I started to protest, but she cut me off.
“No, they know you’re innocent. We can’t take on the Order of Mages, but we’re not going to just stand by while you try to do this on your own. That’s not who we are.”
I was going to argue but knew she’d go ahead with whatever she intended anyway.
“Okay,” I said. “Just be really, really careful.”
“I will. Lay low, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
It suddenly struck me how few people in the world would help me or defend me. I had the sudden, dizzying sensation of floating in space, not knowing which way was up and powerless to propel myself in any direction.
“Thank you, Deb,” I said, squeezing my eyes closed. “But seriously, don’t do anything risky. This is my problem, and you’ve got to think about yourself and the baby.”
“You shut up right now,” she said with some snap in her voice. “You’re my family. I’m not going to let you do this alone. Gretchen needs her godmother.”
“Gretchen?”
“Yeah, I’m naming the baby after you.”
I laughed again, and it dissolved into a groan. “But I hate my middle name. Pick something else.”
“No way,” she said. “I’ve already told her. I can’t take it back.”
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I bit down on my lips for a second.
“Thanks, Deb,” I said again.
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
We hung up.
I flopped onto the sofa, and Loki jumped up next to me. I needed to get him a dish of water, but I didn’t have the strength to get up. Running my hand over the fabric, I peered around the dark room. The very spot where I was sitting was where Evan had laid bundled in a blanket after Rogan and I had saved him from the vampire feeder den. The recliner nearby was where Rogan had kept watch over my brother. This was the last place I’d seen Rogan alive.
I sighed and pushed away the sadness that threatened to well up. I didn’t have time for grief. I stood, pulled all the curtains, and then switched on the TV and turned to the local channel most likely to be playing news at this hour. I tried to steel myself for what I’d see and hear, but it was still a shock to find my face and name splashed all over the updates.
When they played a clip from the national news interview with “Evan,” I moved closer to the screen and sat down on the carpet right in front of it, crossing my legs and peering up at the TV like a child.
I shook my head slowly, more certain there was no way that person was Evan, even though he looked identical to my brother. That type of illusion magic was on par with the teleportation that Damien had done. Was it my former partner who posed as my brother in the interview? They were about the same build. It would be less work, magically speaking, for someone who was similar in stature to illusion himself into a copy of Evan.
When the news moved on to a different story about a local charity, I let my face fall into my hands.
The mages believed it was just to kill my brother in the name of saving lives. Even my own uncle agreed, though he was selfishly motivated to some degree. Jacob wanted to atone for the sins of his company, for opening the rips in the first place. He had been responsible. He’d all but admitted it to me. And he was fine with sacrificing Evan.
The powerful people in this world just sucked. Maybe Zarella was right. We should let chaos reign and allow the world to unravel itself. As a species, we probably deserved it.
But Evan didn’t deserve to be a sacrificial lamb. That was really the only thing I gave a shit about anymore. Well, that and giving Deb’s baby a chance to grow up in a decent world. And Deb the opportunity for happiness. And Roxanne . . .
Well, shit. I supposed I did care about a few things after all.
“Someday, we’re going to get the hell out of there,” I said to Loki. “We’ll find a nice quiet place in the mountains and live like old coots, Switchboard style.”
My dog’s tail thumped against the sofa cushion.
For no reason that I could discern, my thoughts suddenly skipped to Caleb Montgomery, the tall, good-looking, green-eyed Supernatural Crimes guy I’d sort of promised to meet up with this weekend. Was it already the weekend? I’d lost track of the days. Not that it mattered. By then he was probably counting his lucky stars that he hadn’t actually gone out with me.
Maybe he’d come to mind because that night he’d kissed me outside the bar was one of the few semi-normal moments I’d had in ages. It could very well be the last normal thing that ever happened to me.
I lay down and curled up on my side. I was chilly but too tired to get up for a blanket. With the flickering monitor and the soft drone of late-night TV lulling my senses, I dropped into sleep.
I awoke suddenly, and it was still dark out when I sat up, stiff from having slept on the floor. Sleep must have allowed my subconscious to work on my predicament because a plan had formed with such clarity it almost seemed as if it were divine intervention.
I fumbled into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, and while I waited for it to percolate, I began typing a message into Rogan’s phone. My plan depended on Phillip Zarella’s help. He’d cut me off because I’d gone against him when I’d flitted off to San Francisco. But ultimately, my impulsive action hadn’t really messed things up too much. The mages intended to sacrifice Evan at the “conflux” Damien had mentioned, and I was almost positive it was a specific place and time when the conditions were right to do so. He’d said it was days away. They were obviously trying to lay a foundation through the media so that when Evan died closing the rips no one would suspect that he hadn’t gone willingly. That kind of story took time to infiltrate the mind of the public. I had a little bit of breathing room, but not much. And I still didn’t know exactly when and where the big event would take place.
It might take some begging to get back in Zarella’s good graces, but I’d do whatever it took. And this time, I was going to be in charge.
Chapter 17
I WAS A fugitive after the Steins made sure my face got splashed all over the news, and there wasn’t much I could do about that. I had to hide out, but it didn’t mean I was stuck. I could still have eyes out in the world. I could travel by way of the in-between and post minor demons wherever I wanted to keep watch for me, if necessary. But I wanted zombies. As many as possible. I wanted an undead army at my back when the time came to thwart the mages. That was where I needed Zarella and any other necromancers who were willing to help.
I also needed magical knowledge, the type of academic understanding that Damien had spent his life mastering. He’d talked about a “conflux” when he was arguing with his brother, and it was exactly the sort of nerd-magic term Damien liked to use. In fact, I’d heard him talk about such things before. I would bet whatever meager balance remained in my bank account that the conflux was a combination of conditions that would magically amp up what the mages wished to accomplish. It probably involved the phase of the moon, proximity to a ley line and possibly a sacred place, maybe a significant pagan holiday, and other magical factors. I didn’t have time to reach his level of expertise, though. I’d have to rely on others who knew about that sort of thing, as well as whatever my spies could glean, to figure out exactly when and where the mages would try to kill
my brother.
I couldn’t turn on my own phone to get the last phone number Zarella had used to contact me. Instead, I logged into an email account that I knew he would recognize. I typed a quick message that said I’d learned my lesson and wouldn’t jump the gun again. I fibbed a little, saying I knew when and where the mages planned to sacrifice Evan. I didn’t have that info yet, but I’d get it in time. I had no other choice. And it was my one bargaining chip with Zarella.
I suspected the madman and his cronies intended to swoop in at the last minute and snatch Evan. That was why they’d been watching and waiting, instead of just taking my brother and hiding him. They probably planned to do something that would cause even more chaos. Maybe they had their own magic they intended to toss into the mix to try to trigger some big bomb of darkness to explode into the world. The more I considered it, the more likely it seemed.
So. I had the mages to deal with, as well as Zarella and his people. There was one other faction that had designs on Evan—my uncle Jacob. It seemed as if the mages had undercut what he’d intended, which last I knew was to use my brother to close the rips and take credit for himself and Gregori Industries. Jacob wasn’t used to feeling powerless. But Zarella had Jacob backed into a corner. And my uncle was no match for the mages. Maybe I could leverage my uncle to aid my cause, but I wasn’t even sure I needed him.
For one brief moment, I felt like an evil genius standing there in the dark and scheming over my mug of coffee. But evil genius manipulations were about as out of character as I could get, and I couldn’t take anything for granted.
With the message off to Zarella and nothing to do there but await a response, I turned my attention to the magical problem I had to solve: discovering when and where the mages would hold the conflux.
