by Kris Greene
“This way.” Cristobel continued pulling her.
“Slow down, will ya? These heels are killing me.” Lucy stumbled.
“Then get rid of them!” he urged, leading Lucy down a rocky path that was littered with dead and dying vegetation. “If we make it to the woods we may still have a chance.”
The path led them across an open field and to the mouth of the woods, which were as black as night. Lucy cupped her hands into them and blew, building a ball of light that was slightly larger than a tennis ball. With a nudge she sent the ball floating, illuminating what had once been a forest. The leaves had died off long ago, but the trunks of the trees still stood like great crippled giants. The pathways through the woods were overgrown with wilted bushes bearing sharp thorns.
“At least my magic’s coming back.” She shrugged. “How are we gonna get through this and into the woods?”
“I’ll make a way.” Cristobel hefted the battle ax and began wading through the thorns. The ax was almost the same height as he was, but Cristobel handled it with great ease. Within minutes he had carved a path to the main road that went through the woods.
“You’re pretty handy with that thing,” Lucy told him.
Cristobel simply shrugged. An arrow whistled between them and struck one of the dead trees. A few yards behind them Lucy could see the goblins closing in. “Do these guys ever quit?”
“Not until their prey is dead.”
“Release the Slovs!” one of the goblins shouted.
“No!” Cristobel’s heart was gripped with fear. “Come on!” He grabbed Lucy with so much force that he almost ripped her arm out of its socket.
“What the hell is a Slov?” she asked, running behind him.
“Just keep running and don’t look back,” he warned her.
Of course Lucy’s curiosity got the best of her. When she did look over her shoulder, her heart almost stopped in her chest. There were at least a dozen of them, creatures that had been mutated from living in the Iron Mountains. Their green, hairless bodies were shaped like wolves, but their faces appeared more reptilian, with large, scaled heads and loose sacks of flesh hanging under the jaws. The largest of them, which had to be the leader of the pack, unhinged its jaws like a snake and opened its mouth wide enough to swallow a beach ball as it hissed at them in rage. The creatures moved as swiftly as gazelles as they navigated the rough terrain of the woods. Some even took to the trees in an attempt to cut the fugitives off. Lucy had never seen anything like them and never wanted to again.
Lucy tried to keep up with Cristobel but the heels were making it difficult and there was no time to take them off. She stumbled on a rock that was hidden under some dead leaves and fell flat on her face. Lucy rolled over on her back just in time to see one of the creatures closing in on her. The creature leaped into the air and came at Lucy with its fangs bared, but before it could close the distance its head went sailing into the bushes. Lucy looked up and saw Cristobel standing over her holding a bloodied ax.
“Come.” He extended his hand. Lucy nodded in thanks and allowed him to help her up, then they were off again.
“What are those things?” Lucy asked as Cristobel led her along.
“Slovs—pack animals that hunt by overpowering their prey,” he called over his shoulder. One of the Slovs dropped down onto the path and cut them off. Without missing a beat, Cristobel swung the ax and cut off the creature’s front quarters. Two more of the Slovs dropped from the trees and blocked their escape.
“These are mine.” Lucy stepped forward. She scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between her palms while casting a spell. The bushes on either side of the Slovs came to life and snared the creatures. The growth wasn’t strong enough to kill them, but it slowed them down.
“This way.” Cristobel pulled her to the left. A Slov leaped from the bushes and Cristobel split it from throat to privates. Two more lunged from the darkness but before they could do any damage Lucy telekinetically slammed them violently into a tree. “There’re too many to fight; we must keep moving!”
“Tell that to them,” Lucy said, raising a magical barrier. A charging Slov slammed into the invisible wall, breaking its neck. Lucy tried to raise a barrier to cut off the second charging beast, but her magic was weakening. It broke through and knocked her to the ground. Lucy quickly grabbed the creature by the throat to keep it from biting her face, but with only one arm it was a losing battle for her. When Lucy looked into the creature’s gaping jaws, she could see it producing some kind of mucus in the back of its throat. It reared back to spit the fluid in Lucy’s face, but Cristobel’s ax piercing its skull denied it the chance.
Lucy quickly rolled from under the creature’s corpse, got to her feet, and blurted out the first spell that popped into her head. The woods lit up in a beautiful burst of rainbow-colored fireworks. It was a spell she had learned from a warlock her mother had hired as entertainment at her eighth birthday party. It wasn’t at all a powerful spell, but the lights made the Slovs back off and gave her and Cristobel a minute to breathe.
“They’re coming from everywhere,” Cristobel said. In the shadows around them he could see the Slovs’ reptilian eyes watching. The fireworks had scared them off, but it was only a matter of time before they mounted another attack or the goblins caught up with them. Neither was a promising possibility. From behind him, Cristobel heard a coughing sound and then a gust of wind. He spun around in time to split the ball of mucus in half with his ax. With a second motion he threw the ax, pinning the Slov by its skull to a nearby tree. When he retrieved the ax he found a ball of the same mucus the Slov had tried to spit into Lucy’s face.
“What the hell is that?” Lucy asked, examining the mucus. She reached for the ax, but Cristobel snatched it out of her reach.
“Are you mad?”
“I was just curious, man. Chill out,” Lucy said.
“And your curiosity would’ve been your undoing, my friend.” Cristobel held the ax out for them to get a closer look at the goo. It looked like a scoop of jelly, but when Lucy examined it closely she could see dozens of tiny spines floating inside it.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
“Slow death,” Cristobel said. “When the Slovs hunt larger prey, they poison it with the needles in their venom and wait for them to die before feeding.”
A collective hissing rolled through the pack of Slovs, causing Lucy’s head to whip back and forth between their attackers, but there was none. “Sounds like they’re moving in from all sides.” Lucy backed toward Cristobel. “Cristobel, I don’t know about you but I think I’d rather take my chances with these Slovs than the goblins.”
“We may end up having to defeat them both.” He motioned toward the goblin torches, which were coming closer. “If I am to die, I will take as many of them as I can into the hereafter with me.” Cristobel tightened his grip on the ax. He feared death, but he feared the agony of what the goblins would do to him more.
“Maybe neither of us has to die.” Lucy knelt and began tracing symbols in the dirt. “I have a spell that may help, but I’ll need time to work it.”
“Do what you must and I’ll hold them off,” he told her.
Lucy worked feverishly in the dirt, etching symbols only to erase them and start over because she wasn’t sure the glyphs were correct. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to the day her mother had first showed her the very rare spell. Drowning out the hissing sounds of the Slov and her mounting fear, Lucy managed to relax and let her hands work on their own. When she closed the circle she heard the telltale click letting her know she had drawn the symbols correctly. Now all she had to do was empower it.
When she raised her hands to cast the spell something slammed into her. She was caught off guard and didn’t even have a chance to slow her momentum before she crashed into a thick tree. Pain shot from her injured collarbone and down to the tips of her fingers upon impact, and she slid limply to the floor with her vision blurred from the pain. She rega
ined her focus just as one of the Slovs was making a mad dash for her. She managed to jam her forearm into its throat to keep it from ripping her face off, but with only one arm she wouldn’t be able to hold it off for long. She tried to raise her bad arm to cast the spell, but it was useless to her.
Cristobel appeared like a guardian angel and yanked the thing off Lucy. He and the monster crashed to the ground in a tussle. Lucy scrambled over and yanked the Slov off Cristobel by its tail, turning its attention to her long enough for Cristobel to get back on his feet. With a swing of his ax he split the creature in two. When Lucy looked up to thank him, a horrified expression crossed his face. Lucy saw the shadow on the ground, felt the wind and smelled the stink of death as it soared toward her. She promised herself she wouldn’t look, but curiosity got the best of her. She wanted to know what her parents had seen in their final moments, so she turned around. The Slov hurled itself at her with its teeth bared.
Lucy raised her good arm heavenward. “Goddess, protect me.” She empowered her spell just seconds before the pain came.
The blade struck silently. Not even the tearing of skin or severing of bone made a sound. Blood that was an off shade of orange sprayed in a high arc and decorated the trees and dried bushes. The creature’s eyes were wide with shock and its mouth frozen as if trapped in a moment of time. Blood and a noxious fluid squirted from its mouth as the lower and upper halves of its face slid in two different directions.
A few feet away Cristobel knelt on one knee, resting on the ax that was dripping blood onto the dry earth. He turned slowly and there was an unnatural glint in his eyes, the same glint you might see in the eyes of a wolf or some other predatory animal stalking the night. Wisps of loose magic rose from his body and dissipated in the air, lingering effects of whatever Lucy had done to him. Cristobel turned to the slowly advancing Slovs and raised his ax in challenge. The Slovs quickly answered.
The creatures descended on Cristobel in force, only to have three of them lose their heads in one stroke. In the same fluid motion he cleaved the legs from another Slov and planted the ax in its skull. He commanded the ax like it was an extension of his arm, lopping off pieces of whatever was foolish enough to veer close to him. Cristobel managed to drive the Slovs back into the woods, long enough to buy the fugitives a few precious moments.
“What sort of enchantment have you cast on me?” Cristobel looked at his hands in amazement. They still trembled and glowed faintly from the spell.
“An old one that my mother taught me as a girl,” she explained.
“I feel like I could take on the entire goblin horde.” Cristobel tossed his ax in the air and caught it in his other hand.
“Don’t get too cocky, because it’s only temporary. Now, I suggest we get out of these woods and someplace safe before the goblins reach us.”
“Agreed.” Cristobel helped Lucy to her feet. “We’ve only a few more yards until the edge of the woods. Once we clear them we’ll be safe.”
“It’s about time,” Lucy said, rubbing her arms. She had a scratch from one of the thorn bushes that was starting to burn like it had become infected.
“Are you well?” Cristobel asked, noticing the film of sweat on Lucy’s brow.
“Yeah, but those thorn bushes did a number on me. I hope you guys have some peroxide in your village.”
“Peroxide?” Cristobel asked with a confused expression on his face.
Lucy just shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s just get out of here.”
When Lucy and Cristobel finally cleared the woods, it seemed like they had shook the goblins and Slovs . . . but for how long she had no idea.
“My village is just over this hill. We’ll be given shelter and food once we arrive. Even now I can see the cook fires burning.” Cristobel pointed to the rising smoke visible just beyond the valley walls. “Come.” He pulled her along by the hand as they crossed the last hill overlooking the village. When it finally came into sight, a horrified expression crossed Cristobel’s face.
“No” was all he could say before he dropped to his knees and began to weep. All that remained of the village were the charred husks of the huts Cristobel had once called home.
CHAPTER NINE
The taxi jerked to a stop on the corner of Seventy-ninth Street and West End Avenue. The portly driver had been suspicious of the odd-looking trio, but when Rogue placed a hundred dollar bill in his hand and told him to keep the change it quieted his rumbling. Asha received more than a few curious glances from the residents and she couldn’t say that she blamed them. Her leather outfit was ripped across the thigh and the dried blood made her hair sit at a funny angle. That and the fact that she was carrying a monkey made her quite the spectacle.
“I swear I haven’t been stared at this much since my first day of grade school.” Asha hugged Azuma to her chest.
“Don’t worry. You look fine,” Morgan said with a slight smile. Asha didn’t return the gesture.
They entered Rogue’s building just as an elderly couple was coming out. The old man stepped out in front of the wife defensively, but he relaxed when he saw Rogue. “Mr. Rogue,” the elderly man greeted him in a less than welcoming tone.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Harmon, Mrs. Harmon.” Rogue nodded to each of them and mustered his phoniest smile. The Harmons were notorious troublemakers who had been the most vocal in blocking Rogue’s bid to purchase his apartment in the building. Even without reading their auras he knew there had to be a reason they were speaking to him other than courtesy.
“So how’s the investigation coming along? I hope the police catch those three before they can do any more damage,” Mrs. Harmon said.
Rogue raised his eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
Mr. Harmon gave his wife a look that said Mind your business, but she ignored him and continued her prying. “You know, that murdering Indian family that they’ve been talking about on the news all night. I hear that after they killed those people uptown, they burned a church in Brooklyn, even killed some of the priests who lived there.”
Rogue, Asha, and Morgan exchanged nervous glances. “I’m afraid I haven’t heard anything about it.”
“Is that right?” Mrs. Harmon looked at Rogue over the top of her glasses. “Funny, because we saw that rolling ball of noise you like to drive at the crime scene.”
Rogue felt ice form in his stomach. If the Harmons could place him at the scene of the crime, there was no telling who else was connecting the dots. “Well, officially I’m not working the case. I’m just advising the police on the matter.”
“You see, I told you,” Mrs. Harmon said to her husband.
“Well, we’ll leave you people to it.” Mr. Harmon grabbed his wife by the arm and ushered her down the walkway. “Have a good one.”
“You too.” Rogue nodded. He was glad to be rid of the Harmons and their snooping. He had made it into the lobby when he heard Mrs. Harmon call after him.
“Oh, some of your police friends came by looking for you this morning,” Mrs. Harmon told him before her husband snatched her down the block.
Rogue, Asha, and Morgan looked at each other. One name flashed in all their heads at the same time. “Titus,” Rogue said before bounding up the stairs with Asha and Morgan on his heels.
Rogue hit every other step on his way up the stairs. He cleared the landing on his floor with his gun drawn, sweeping the hallway for trouble. Morgan was at his side with his hammer raised, prepared to strike down anything that moved. Asha was still taking her time making her way up the stairs. Rogue heard footsteps to his left and spun with his gun drawn, scaring the blazes out of his neighbor. He was an older man with a mane of white hair that he never seemed to comb. He had been living down the hall from Rogue for six months, but for some reason the mage couldn’t think of his name.
“Don’t shoot!” The old man threw his hands up.
“Ah, sorry about that,” Rogue said awkwardly and lowered his gun.
“Is there some sort of trouble?” the old
man asked.
“Nothing to worry yourself about. We’ve got it under control,” Rogue told him.
“That’s a relief. Enjoy your day, Officer Rogue,” the man said and continued down the hall. He stopped in front of Morgan and looked the big man up and down. “Nice hammer.” He smiled and headed down the stairs.
“What are you guys doing just standing around?” Asha asked as she rounded the landing.
“I was talking to the old man you just passed,” Rogue told her.
“What old man?” Asha asked.
Morgan and Rogue exchanged curious glances. They cautiously made their way down the hall until they reached Rogue’s apartment door. He checked the wards that had been cast around his door and none seemed broken, but he knew that not all of their enemies had need of doors. With a wave of his hand he undid the locks and the door creaked open.
“Wait here for a sec,” Rogue instructed them, then went inside. The room was dark and still, save for the curtain fluttering in the breeze of the air conditioner. Using his demon sight he checked the house for magical residue or any unwanted guests. When he was confident that the apartment was secure he waved his guests inside. “Someone has been here, but they couldn’t get past the wards.”
Rogue muttered something under his breath and the living room lights winked on. His apartment was modestly decorated with a sofa, a love seat, and a small television that was covered in a film of dust. Covering the shelves built into the wall and every table in the place were books on everything from spells to American history.
