by Jayne Faith
I tilted my head. “What?”
“Getting blamed for setting me free when it was actually Damien Stein who aided my escape and ensured that Jacob Gregori no longer had the leverage to keep me prisoner on his company’s grounds,” he said.
I’d known Damien had made a trade with Zarella. Mage power for my former partner, apparently in return for helping the madman gain his freedom. But I’d never known how they’d managed to force Jacob to let Zarella go.
“What was in that box that Damien retrieved for you?” I asked.
“Concrete proof of Jacob’s personal role in causing the Manhattan Rip,” the zombie said. “Enough to make a conviction stick this time.”
“He was already tried and found not guilty,” I said.
“My information would provide a slightly different path to conviction,” he said, his tone growing impatient and clipped. “It shows the viruses originated from Gregori Industries. But that’s irrelevant to our discussion this evening.”
Zarella seemed to be in a bad mood.
“Where and when is the sacrifice to take place?” he asked.
Ah, there it was. He was annoyed that I knew something he didn’t. I managed to suppress a grim smile.
“I can’t tell you,” I said. “Not unless I know for sure that you aren’t going to make things worse. Open more rips. Cause more disease and destruction.”
“What do you care? You’ll have your brother, and the world will go on. We’ve learned to live with these interdimensional tears and the consequences of them. Look around you, Ella. Vampires get implants and live as normal people. Zombies are all destroyed or well-controlled. New infections of either virus are extremely rare. And you know from your former job that the pesky minor demons that come through occasionally can be controlled. Arch-demons are infrequent, and possessions even more so. Stop worrying about making the world into some false vision of perfection from the past. This is the world now. Just embrace it and move on with your brother and your life.”
“Fine, I don’t need to tell you,” I said mildly and crossed my arms.
The zombie took a couple of steps forward, its fists clenched at its sides.
“Yes, you do,” it said. “You need me and the others, and you know it.”
I reached for my whip and used earth and air magic to unfurl it from its pouch. The links clinked to the cement. I didn’t know whether the zombie’s threatening stance was just show from Zarella, a carefully choreographed set of movements to intimidate me, or if he might actually get angry enough to lose control. Either way, I wouldn’t let the zombie get close enough for me to find out. If I had to, I’d take the thing’s head off with my whip and then burn it to ash with fire magic.
But something broke inside me. I was so tired of depending on people who only had their own selfish motivations. It made me sick to think of how much of my brother’s life had been wasted at the hands of people who just wanted to use him—blood-thirsty vampires, Zarella and his chaos-loving necromancers, Jacob and his epic guilt over the Manhattan disaster.
Zarella wasn’t an ally. He never would be. His skills and resources were valuable, but I didn’t want him involved. I’d find a way without him.
I flicked the whip, and the end of it blurred as it lashed out, slicing the zombie’s pant leg but not touching skin.
Then I slumped and put on a defeated look.
“You’re right,” I said. “I can’t do it alone. I’m not powerful enough.”
“See? I knew you’d come around,” the zombie said, backing off and assuming its former neutral posture. “Now, when and where will we defeat the mages?”
“Swear to me that you won’t harm any innocents when the time comes,” I said.
“I have absolutely no intention of it,” he said. “Though I hope you do not consider the mages to be in your category of innocents.”
“No, I don’t.” I heaved a heavy sigh. “It’s going to happen at the Manhattan Rip. The mages believe it will be best to begin the process of sealing the rips at the origin. The Steins don’t know I overheard them say so.”
“When?”
“January thirty-first. If you care to look into it, you’ll see it’s a very good date for powerful magic.”
I squinted at the zombie. I’d given the real date because I assumed I couldn’t trick him there. He had resources at his disposal, and even though he wasn’t a magic user himself, he presumably knew powerful crafters who would understand magical timing. He would probably arrive at that date as the most magically significant in the near future, just as the witches in my coven had. But as long as I could keep him from showing up at the actual location of the conflux, it wouldn’t matter.
“I’m counting on you to mobilize everything you have against the mages.” I said. “Will you do it?”
“With pleasure.” The words seemed to slither from the zombie’s lips, and it was all I could do not to writhe away.
I wasn’t sure if I would fool him or not, but for the moment he seemed to have bought it.
When I’d originally messaged Zarella, I’d expected I would be begging for his help. Yes, he’d saved my brother in a sense, by keeping Evan hidden from Jacob and the mages for several years, but nearly at the expense of Evan’s life. My brother had no life. He was a shell of a person, addicted to the high of vamp bites and isolated from humanity during a time when he should have been finishing high school and then going out into the world. Evan would never get that time back, and he might never be able to function normally in society. Zarella had made sure of that.
Zarella relished darkness, and I couldn’t let him unleash more of it into the world. People like him and my uncle didn’t deserve to be walking free. I was done with the psychopath. I needed to respect my own morals, even if it made my mission riskier and more uncertain. Even if it meant I had to burn myself out with magic and die in the process.
“You’ll keep me apprised of your plans?” I asked.
“Of course,” Zarella said.
I nodded and then waited, my whip in hand and magic still charging it, for the zombie to turn and leave the yard before I went back inside.
Realizing I should have done it before, I spent a few minutes creating wards around the house. I wasn’t particularly skilled with them, but I knew enough to create basic ones, and since my magical ability had elevated to Level III, I actually had enough magical power to create them. I had my demon lookouts, but wards provided an extra layer of slightly different signaling, should anyone try to sneak up on me in Rogan’s house. If anyone or anything approached, I could disappear into the in-between. Between my demons, wards, and my hellhound-doodle, I almost felt safe there.
It was late, and weariness tugged at me, but while I had the cover of darkness, I wanted to do one more thing. I needed to scout the location of the Boise Rip.
I faded to the in-between and used the water still puddled in the sink to transport myself to the hills near the rip, to a ravine with winter-frozen water in it.
The gray mist stirred around me, disturbed by my sudden appearance below a rolling ridge just beyond the cordoned-off site of the rip. I hiked up to the top. The interdimensional tear didn’t visually register in the in-between, but there was a sense of something out there—an energetic disturbance. Not something you could consciously feel, but a phenomenon that sent out ripples to unnerve one’s ancient, instinctual senses.
Even though it was the dead of night and completely dark in the realm of the living, the in-between had its ever-present grayish glow. It was enough light to see the contours of the hills that made up the site of the rip, which was located several miles outside of the city among the high-desert foothills.
Loki appeared beside me, and I surveyed the area, trying to guess where the mages would stage their little play. There was no place for me to hide, except maybe behind a nearby hill, but the mages wouldn’t be dumb enough not to check the surroundings.
I still didn’t know how Lynnette thought she and the o
ther witches were going to help, but there was no safe place for them near the rip.
Turning to the pull of the living, I left the in-between so I could see the scene in full.
The sight of the rip struck me with awe for a moment. The void-black interior of the vertical slice didn’t reveal anything, but even from a half mile away I could hear the crackle of the neon-blue magic that licked out around its edges like flames. The magic served to outline the rip, which at its largest pulsation point was over twenty stories tall. Even in the dark, it was impressive.
Loki whined and danced around beside me.
“Chill, boy,” I whispered. “We don’t want to attract attention.”
By the blue light of the rip, I could just make out the road that had been carved around the site. Armored vehicles drove the circuit night and day, ready to combat anything that came through or descend on anyone who tried to trespass too close. On some of the surrounding peaks, there were heavy artillery stations set up with their cannons aimed at the rip.
How could I get close to the rip? And how could I do it before the mages showed up?
If I were more skilled with necromancy, I could control an arch-demon and ride it in. Yeah, that would work great right up to the point when the Supernatural Forces obliterated me and my ride from existence. Or, if the Steins already had the guards out of the way, the mages would do it themselves.
I cursed under my breath. The in-between was my best way to sneak around unseen, but I couldn’t take anyone else with me into limbo land. I might be able to get close, and maybe even pop out and grab Evan, but then what? I needed a way to get him out.
My head ached with fatigue and magical drain. I needed rest. And healing. And a few well-timed strokes of brilliance.
“Let’s go back to Rogan’s,” I whispered to Loki.
We went back to the ravine and transported to the dark house, appearing next to the sink I’d left filled with water. I kicked off my shoes and crawled into bed. For a few minutes, I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep as memories of Rogan flowed through my mind and with them a tide of sorrow and loss. But exhaustion won out, and I slept.
I awoke to the weak winter morning light and Rogan’s phone buzzing on the night stand. It was Deb calling from her burner phone.
“Hey,” she said. “Gina has agreed to meet you in her downtown clinic in a half hour. Can you make it?”
I sat up, pushing back my tangled hair and blinking hard, trying to shake the grogginess of sleep.
“Yeah, I can make it,” I said. “But are you sure she’s okay with this? I would understand if she didn’t want to treat me.”
“She’s a healer first and foremost,” Deb said. “It wouldn’t be like her to deny someone in need. Plus, I told her the news reports are bogus, and she seemed open to my explanation.”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly. I hated the idea of dragging anyone else into my troubles, but using the in-between, I could go to and from her clinic without being spotted. For probably the hundredth time, I felt a swell of gratitude that Rogan had showed me how to travel through space using limbo land. “Thanks for setting it up. I’ll be there.”
“Lynnette wants to meet tonight instead of our usual time. I’m assuming you’re free?” Her tone took on a teasing lilt.
“Gee, let me check my appointments,” I said with light sarcasm. “Yep, I think I can squeeze in a coven meeting.”
She gave a little giggle, and the sound of it eased some of the tightness in my chest.
“So glad to hear that. I’ll get Gina to set up a glass of water and then send you a pic so you can travel straight into her clinic,” she said. “And official time for the coven is five o’clock at Becky’s parents’ place.”
“Is everything okay there at home?” I asked. “Has anyone been harassing you?”
“Nah, Roxanne and I are good,” she said. But I could read in her voice that something else had happened.
“What is it?” I pressed.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” Deb said, the lightness in her tone still slightly forced. “The police are trying to get me to come in for questioning. Um . . . the feds, too.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “I’m sorry. How are you keeping them off?”
“Chris gave me some good advice about my rights,” she said.
Chris? Oh right, Lagatuda, aka Tall Detective.
“You’re not going to have to get a lawyer, are you?” I asked, suddenly horrified as the thought occurred to me. The absolute last thing Deb needed was more legal expenses. She was already completely tapped out, money-wise.
“Only if they try to charge me with something.”
I massaged my temple. The authorities could charge her if they suspected she was helping me hide or she knew where I was.
“Well, this will all be over before it gets that far, so don’t worry about that,” I said, trying to sound as confident as I could.
“Yeah, it’s all going to work out. Don’t forget about your appointment. See you tonight.”
We hung up, and I threw back the covers, got dressed, and scooted into the kitchen to make a quick pot of coffee. Loki whined and pranced, begging for food.
“Sorry, no dog chow here,” I said, scratching his neck in an attempt to distract him. “You can eat when we go to the coven meeting tonight.”
His whining grew more insistent, and I couldn’t help a quiet laugh. Even though he was part hellhound, at times he was every bit a domesticated house pet. I opened cabinets, looking for anything that might serve as a dog snack. Finding an unopened package of beef jerky, I ripped the top off the bag. When Loki got a whiff of it, he panted up at me.
“This is a special treat,” I said. “Don’t expect this every day.”
I tossed a piece of dried meat, and he rose up on his hind legs to snatch it out of the air. By the time I’d fed him half the bag, my coffee was ready. I had a few minutes before I had to ghost over to Gina’s clinic, so I sipped the steaming brew and tuned to my necro senses, checking in with the minor demons I had posted. A few of them were around Rogan’s house, and I’d also set some near my apartment.
I poked into the mind of the one posted across from the front door of the apartment Deb and I shared just in time to see a generic dark sedan pull up to the curb. Hey. I knew that car. My hand paused with the mug a few inches from my lips as I watched Detective Lagatuda get out and go to the front door.
My first instinct was to get Deb on the phone immediately. But when she opened the door and smiled brightly up at him, I stuffed my phone back in my jacket pocket. I watched with my eyes narrowed, still not completely convinced she was safe. She didn’t invite him in. Or maybe she did, and he refused. She stood in the doorway and he on the front porch. Their conversation was short, and when he turned to leave, there was a goofy smile on Lagatuda’s face.
I snorted an amused laugh. Aww. Tall Detective was checking on Deb. I found myself grinning in spite of myself as I rinsed out my mug and then faded to the in-between.
My healing session with Gina was blessedly uneventful. When I went to pay her, she held up a hand.
“Deb already gave me the fee,” she said. “She wanted to make completely sure that your payment wouldn’t be traced to me.”
I put my bank card away, shaking my head at myself. “I’m sorry, that was really careless of me. At least someone was thinking ahead.”
Gina put her hand on my arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Ella. You’ve been through the ringer in the past few months, and you’re really in the thick of it now. Pace yourself, okay? I can only do so much. Some of the damage is permanent.”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” I said. “Especially now that I’m public enemy number one. Or two. I don’t know. Anyway, no matter what happens, I just wanted to say thank you.”
I felt a little guilty as I faded into the in-between because when I went up against the mages, I would undo all of Gina’s skilled work. I’d do that and worse. I�
��d do whatever it took, and there was a good chance that when it was all over, there wouldn’t be a healer in the world who could fix me.
Back at Rogan’s, I let Loki out into the back yard to relieve himself, and as I watched my hellhound-doodle run around sniffing every bush and tree trunk, I considered what I’d done. I’d lied to Phillip Zarella with the hope that he’d be far, far away from Boise when the time of the conflux arrived. But would he be able to wreak havoc in Manhattan?
It was entirely possible that Zarella could stir up shit at that rip. Maybe I’d made a poor choice in trying to redirect him there. But at the very least, he wouldn’t be in the vicinity where he could do my brother more harm.
I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my fingertips into my eyelids, suddenly unsure of everything. Maybe I should have just let Zarella join us at the Boise Rip.
I sucked in a sharp breath and gave my head a shake. No, my gut told me that Zarella shouldn’t be there. I had to trust that. I couldn’t afford to second-guess everything. I’d drive myself nuts.
If only I had Rogan and Damien on my side. I blew out my breath slowly, trying to center myself. I couldn’t dwell on what I didn’t have. I had enough problems to focus on.
I used the in-between to pop into the desert wilderness surrounding the Boise Rip again, staying well outside the restricted zone. The hills were bare, cold, and windy, the sparse sage brush reduced to their skeletons at this time of year. On distant ridges I saw a few people here and there, some with their dogs. Hardcore trail runners who trained year-round. With Loki bounding ahead of me, I’d probably blend in with winter hikers if anyone happened to spot me.
Reaching out with my necro senses, I located a lone minor demon in a ravine, probably looking for some ice to peck through in the frozen stream there so the creature could get a sip of water. I probed into its mind, taking control of the creature and sending it into flight. Taking a lazy, circling route, I directed it closer and closer to the site of the rip.
A minor demon flying past shouldn’t attract the soldiers’ attention, as long as the creature didn’t do anything unusual. The soldiers were concerned with the large arch-demons. Minor demons were little more than pests to the soldiers, and unless a lot of the creature flocked through the tear, Supernatural Forces usually didn’t waste their high-powered weapons on the smaller pests. It would have been like taking a bazooka to a mosquito. That was what they’d say, anyway. It was one of those things they tended to gloss over because it wouldn’t be received well by the public that the smaller demons were allowed to just cruise on through. But having been employed by a different but related department, I understood why they didn’t bother with minor demons, and the reason was much more mundane. Everything I’d done on Demon Patrol—every house call, every kill—had resulted in paperwork. The elite Supernatural Forces didn’t need to be wasting their time filling out incident reports every time they lit up one of the bat-like creatures. So they ignored them.
