by Chloe Adler
The smile playing on her lips couldn’t hide her lust. “Mmm, you came and I missed it?”
“Burg. This is serious.”
She shrugged. “Maybe not.” Her hands reached out to stroke my flaming hair, almost too sensually. She was turned on by the thought of my sexcapade, but I couldn’t think about that right now. Why had Ryder left so suddenly? It didn’t feel right.
Burgundy was moving in for a kiss, something I was not interested in pursuing at that moment, when a scream sliced through the air.
“What the hell—?” By the door, at least a dozen figures had arrived, dressed all in black. How original. My first thought was ‘trackers’ but I knew they were spelled out of the Edge.
Burgundy was at my back, flinging her arms around me, pulling me away from the group.
One of her hands snaked out and grabbed Chrys. She pushed both of us to the far end of the dance hall, toward the small platform stage that was full of cuddle puddles.
Everyone had stopped dancing. All eyes were trained on the strange men and women. They looked like meth heads. Their hair was stringy, their faces pale and pockmarked, their eyes dead.
They remained unmoving but they were flanking the exit and no one could leave. People moved away from them, in a wave, as if repelled. Why weren’t the vampires taking them out? I looked over at Burgundy but she was shaking her head at me.
The zombie-looking people parted and a very tall, too tall, man entered. He was enormous, almost a giant. Some people began to scream but others quickly quieted them.
He stood at least ten feet tall, his bald head gleaming even in the low light. He smiled. The too-taut, pasty-yellow skin parted over a mouth full of pointed teeth.
It was the most gruesome smile I’d ever seen, like a snake seconds away from devouring its prey.
Although his eyes were beady, they weren’t dull and vacant, like those of his entourage. Without a word, he slowly raised both arms. When they formed a large Y above his massive frame, he flicked his wrists like a conductor. A very loud crash sounded. I looked around to see what had fallen, but it wasn’t a what. It was a who. All of the humans lay dead, or maybe unconscious, on the floor.
A hush descended. All breath held. The giant’s mouth opened forming the shape of laughter but the sounds that escaped were like claws scraping against aluminum. Some Signum covered their ears but most of us remained frozen, waiting. Watching.
One of the strongest vampires in Distant Edge rushed forward. The giant inclined his head to his left. A Signum that we knew, another shifter who had been dancing close to Chrys, started shifting into a panther. Burgundy, Chrys and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. How was that even possible? Shifters never changed in front of anyone; it was always done in private.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The vampire leapt toward the giant, arms outstretched, fangs bared. The panther leapt toward the vampire, claws extended, colliding with him in midair, knocking the vampire off course.
I couldn’t see any one thing, it all happened too fast as more Signum from our side ran forward and the giant’s side moved in to meet them.
I grabbed Chrys, and Burgundy grabbed me as Jared ran to us with his pet, Dirk. We all retreated as far away from the commotion as we possibly could.
The din escalated quickly with growls and screeching. Bodies flew and there was blood. A lot of blood.
The giant was almost smiling, grotesque excitement building in those dark beady eyes.
“What . . . is he?” I asked. There were only three kinds of Signum that we knew of. Vampires, shape-shifters and witches. The giant did not seem to fall into any of those categories.
Burgundy shook her head. “I don’t think he’s from our world.”
“He’s too powerful,” Chrys chimed in.
“A demon?” Jared asked.
“There’s no such thing,” I said, “is there?”
No one responded.
A small figure appeared from behind the thinning crowd flanking the giant. It was cloaked, hooded, and seemed frail, like if one of us blew too hard, it would fly away. What kind of Signum could it be? How could it have any powers in that sickly state?
The hooded being stepped forward, head bowed. One of the giant’s minions with blank staring eyes moved toward it, holding what looked like a wooden staff. A strange symbol decorated the top, like intersecting circles with the number seven entwined through them, all made of brushed metal.
With the staff in its hand, the creature’s lips moved rhythmically. Reciting an incantation? If only I knew more about spells, but Aurelia had kept me in the dark for my entire life.
“What’s it doing?” I whispered into Chrys’s ear.
“I can’t make out the words,” she whispered back.
Burgundy shot us both a look to shut us up.
Chrys leaned closer. “I don’t think she’s a witch. I’ve never seen a staff like that and . . .”
Before my sister could finish her sentence, the metal part of the staff was heating up. It glowed redder and redder. Sparks flew, and smoke appeared out of nowhere, pouring into the staff. The creature itself was vibrating, first its arm and then its body. It raised its other hand and traced symbols in the air. They appeared in the smoke, hovering.
Chrys and I exchanged looks. She lifted a single shoulder, a half shrug. I inclined my head toward hers, about to say something, when red smoke shot out of the staff and a thick fog covered the dance hall. I tried to run but found I couldn’t move, not at all. I couldn’t even speak or scream. My heart was beating so fast I worried it would explode. For a few moments I couldn’t see anything, not even my friends.
Shrieking laughter rang out. It was coming from the giant. He flicked his wrist and one woman stepped forward. She looked on the brink of death, or maybe she was already dead.
“Find the bodies I can use.” His resonance was commanding, his pitch low but the volume massive. Some stationary items were shaking.
She moved slowly through the crowd, bending down over each unmoving human body still littering the floor and placing her hand on their foreheads. She finally stopped at an unconscious man I didn’t recognize and looked up.
The giant made a fist, blew into it and released the air toward the fallen body. The body stood up.
I wanted to scream but couldn’t make a sound.
The man’s eyes were dead. The body that had once housed a human soul walked toward the giant. The woman repeated her moves until a dozen fresh, zombie-like humans surrounded the man.
He stood in front of his zombie army and raised his hands high in the air. Those beady black eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, his mouth opened, exposing the shark teeth, and then the thing laughed again. I knew it was laughter but it sounded like a thousand children screaming and I wanted to cover my ears but I still couldn’t move.
“This town will be mine!” he roared. The windows shattered, spraying glass on the people closest to them but still no one could move. Tiny beads of red blood blossomed on the faces of the crowd. The giant lowered his hands and smiled, those teeth glinting in the light from the full moon spilling through the broken windows.
Then he turned to leave, the zombie mass following him. All except the tiny cloaked creature. It stood in the same spot for a moment or two and as it raised its head, the hood fell back, lighting the eyes.
A man. Looking straight at me. There was something different and familiar about him. Taylor? He looked like my father but his eyes were the saddest eyes I’d ever seen. He stomped the staff five times, green sparks flying out of it, and suddenly I could move again.
Hands reached for me but I couldn’t turn to look. I couldn’t stop staring at that man. My father, who had left me when I was nine. Who our mother had told us was dead. This man could not be Taylor.
“Papa?” Chrys said next to me as his eyes met hers.
I found myself reaching out to grab my sister then, her eyes filling with tears. She clutched at me and we embraced, looking awa
y for only a moment.
When we looked back, he was gone. They all were, as if they had never even been there at all.
Broken glass and blood littered the wooden dance floor, not unlike the messy aftermath of a vampire party at the V Club. Except in place of vampires drunk on blood and tourists drunk on oxytocin, everyone here looked drunk on shock and I was no exception.
“The authorities have been notified. We’ve been told to wait here until they arrive,” said the DJ into the mic, her voice booming over the din of crying and fear.
“We need to leave before they get here,” Burgundy said to us, a pillar of calm in the eye of the storm.
“But people need our help,” I countered, looking at the semiconscious people on the floor. Some were sitting up, but most looked dazed.
A male witch that I knew from the Art Academy approached us. “Can you help me cast a spell to clean this place up?” he asked Chrys and me.
“We can’t touch anything,” Burgundy answered for us. “This is a crime scene now.” She pushed her long thick hair out of her face and looked around.
“Of course, you’re right, I wasn’t thinking,” he answered, cupping his hands around his face and spinning around in a slow circle. After a moment he moved toward a woman crying on the floor.
“They need our help.” My voice was thin and quiet as I motioned around the room with an arm I was barely able to lift.
Burgundy sighed and nodded, hands on her hips, her head shaking no even as she moved away from us. “Un momento. You two wait here while Jared and I check on the fallen,” Burgundy replied.
“Why?” I asked her even though I knew the answer.
Chrys stood still, looking despondent, not making eye contact or speaking.
“Hey,” I put a hand on her shoulder, my ring catching the light. She jumped, then looked at me, unfocused. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “What . . . happened?”
My older sister looked younger and more fragile than Iphi at that moment. I didn’t respond. How could I, without having an answer?
“Was that our father? Working for the evilest man . . . thing I’ve ever seen? Why?”
“It couldn’t have been him,” I said, lying to myself. To her. “He’s dead.”
“Yes.” There were tears in her eyes. “Death is better than what we just witnessed. We can’t stay here.” She looked up. I followed her gaze.
Promise did indeed look like it could be renamed Nightmare. Tattered clothing hung from the overhead lights, which were switched on, illuminating the carnage.
“I guess people do look okay for the most part.” Many were getting up and the ones still on the ground had people tending to them.
The sounds of distant sirens filtered through the front doors.
“Let’s go, please.” Chrys looked at me, frenzied.
Nodding, I pulled her toward the back exit, by the stage. Burgundy caught my eye right before we made our way outside, giving me a little nod.
Chapter Five
Thirty minutes later, we all walked into our living room at Casa Mañana. Jared and Dirk collapsed together in a heap on one of Burgundy’s Oriental rugs. I sat on the couch. Chrys chose one of the wingback chairs. Burgundy disappeared into the kitchen. We hadn’t spoken on the ride back home. I figured everyone was still processing. I felt raw.
“Can we light some candles?” Chrys asked. “As a gesture toward the people that were hurt tonight . . .”
“And our dad,” I finished for her, getting up to light some in the authentic dias de las muertes candleholders Burgundy had brought with her from Nicaragua.
“That was crazy. Are you two okay?” Jared asked us, his body intertwined with Dirk’s.
“I don’t know,” I responded.
“I’m definitely not okay,” said Chrys.
Burgundy came out of the kitchen, holding a tray with five steaming mugs of tea. After placing it down on the coffee table, she handed a mug to each of us and sat down next to me on the couch.
“I don’t understand what that thing was,” said Jared. “At first I thought the people with it were trackers . . .” He visibly cringed.
I nodded. “Me too.”
“Trackers can’t get into the Edge,” Burgundy blew on her teacup.
Trackers were a group of fringe zealots that made it their mission to kill Signum in the name of religion, maintaining that we were an abomination to God.
“Do you think the police are going to want to talk to us?” Chrys asked.
“Probably,” Dirk said, running his hand along Jared’s arm. “I don’t understand why we didn’t stay there and talk to them when we had the chance.”
Chrys and I shot him a look and Jared got up quickly, pulling Dirk with him.
“Let’s go into my bedroom and leave the girls alone to talk.”
Dirk’s mouth opened but Jared patted his ass and he clamped it shut, smiling over at my roommate.
“Here.” Jared handed him his cup of tea and pointed toward the opening into our hallway. “Turn left in the hallway. The bathroom is on your right and my room is on your left.” Dirk turned to look at him inquisitively.
Jared jutted his chin toward the hall. “Go.”
Dirk did as he was told.
“Thanks Buns,” I whispered to Jared, using my pet name for him.
Jared’s topaz-colored eyes swept over us, the candlelight reflecting the golden specks I knew and loved. He winked before following Dirk’s retreating figure.
“We can’t tell the police we saw Dad,” I said once the boys were gone. “Agreed?”
Chrys nodded, bringing the cup of tea to her lips and blowing on it.
“I have a hard time believing they’ll do anything about the crazy demon thing we saw anyway,” Burgundy said. “Ever since the new Signum police chief, things have changed.”
“Why wouldn’t they be concerned over the protection of our town? Their own citizens?” asked Chrys.
“Humans started disappearing at least four months ago,” I added, “and nothing has been done.”
“They don’t care about humans.” Burgundy echoed my thoughts. “They’ll probably hand that guy a medal.”
“It’s not right,” I mumbled.
“No, it’s not,” echoed Chrys.
Burgundy put her arm around me and I snuggled into her. Chrys looked away. Burgundy patted the couch on the other side of her. “Chrys? A snuggle?”
My sister’s face turned the same shade as our couch.
The next morning brought another beautiful sunny day in Southern California paradise. The acacia tree outside my window swayed lightly in the breeze. The birds chirped, high-pitched in the branches. A crow cawed, deep and menacing. I shivered. It always felt like crows were trying to tell me things when, in fact, it was just my imagination working overtime. Not able to shake Dad’s sickly, drawn form from my mind, I went to see Iphi at Aurelia’s. Work didn’t start until two in the afternoon.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Iphi said when she opened the front door. She grabbed my hand with her smaller one and held it tightly. “What’s going on with you and Chrys? She came in late last night without saying a word to me and went straight to her room. I could use a mind-reading spell to find out . . . or you could just tell me.”
Iphi’s powers were stronger than either of ours. Plus she was intuitive and wise beyond her eighteen years. She leaned in to place an almost matronly kiss on my forehead, a familiar gesture that she reserved for me alone, her blond ringlets brushing against my forearm.
Iphi walked me into the kitchen, taking a seat and motioning for me to take one next to her. The unnatural blue of her sapphire eyes gleamed with mischief. “I’ll give you four minutes.” Her arms crossed in front of her tiny frame and she held eye contact with me, a move I knew meant she was completely serious.
I took her softer hands into mine.
“We saw Dad.” I was never one to mince words or spend time on a buildup.
“You knew?” I let the words stretch out slowly, slower than I’d intended. My tone was filled with reproach. I tried to pull my hands from hers but she held onto them tightly, not releasing them.
“Sadie,” she started and then stopped.
Since my powers were close to nil, I had learned to watch people closely. To read them. I wasn’t always right but I could usually tell when someone was hiding something. Their body language changed, or their breathing.
Everyone had a “tell” when they were lying, but unless you knew what it was for that particular person, it was hard to figure out. The suggested method, as I’d read in a book I’d ordered on the subject, was to ask them a question you knew they would answer with the truth. Something like “What day is it?” and then ask them a question you knew they would answer with a lie. Iphi’s tell was licking her lips.
I waited, holding her gaze as she licked her lips. “I won’t let this one go, Iphs. Do you know who the giant is?”
There was a twitch above her left eye. She sighed deeply. “He’s called the Scrim. We don’t know what he wants. He came here from another realm, a different world. Mom suspects he’s a demon; I see him as a beast. But it doesn’t really matter what he is. All that matters is that he is determined to cause harm here in the Edge.”
“But—“ I bit my tongue, wanting her to tell me more.
She scooted her kitchen chair out from under the heavy oak table and stood up, indicating the topic was closed. Wiping her hands on the front of her apron, she walked to the counter. I followed her gaze to the dried herbs hanging above. The ceiling of Aurelia’s kitchen was latticed with dark wooden beams. All year round, she, Iphi and Chrys dried hundreds of different herbs needed for spells and amulets.
Reaching up, Iphi located althea root, an herb for protection and the enhancement of psychic powers.
