by Massey,M. D.
He pointed at us with a long, gnarly finger, laughing as we coughed and wheezed. “Bah ha! Humans can’t take troll pew. Good for us, bad for you, cause now we eat you too!”
Did I mention that trolls were horrible and compulsive poets?
Maeve’s doorkeeper let go of the cow leg and picked up a log laying nearby. It pointed it at us as it began advancing. “Now, we eat you, make you into poo!”
The other troll flipped around the leg it held so it could use it as a weapon. “I get the big guy, he juicier than skinny little small fry.”
The first troll turned back to his partner. “I get big guy or make you cry!”
“You no call, you lose all. Snooze-lose, cuz you no choose!”
“No snooze-lose! You lose, I eat youse!”
Soon they were trading blows, beating each other with the log and the cow’s leg. It would have been humorous, if I hadn’t been fighting dry heaves the whole time.
Finally, Bells recovered enough to aim her shotgun, firing four shots in rapid succession. All four shots struck their intended targets, hitting each troll once in the torso and once in the head.
She patted my arm clumsily as she staggered out of the barn. “Please, burn those things now, before they start talking again.” Then she disappeared around the corner of the barn and began vomiting.
First, I covered my mouth with my shirt and went into the stall where I suspected Sabine had been placed. She was bound and gagged, and had small pieces of vomit around her mouth. Her glamour had faded, and despite her current sad state I noted that she was just as lovely and intact as ever. I picked her up and carried her outside the barn, gently laying her down and checking for a pulse; it was weak, but there.
Angered by what had been done to my friend, I entered the barn again and produced two baby food jars from my pockets. Each had a wax seal around the lid, and they contained an alchemical mixture of grain alcohol, turpentine, oil, phosphorous, and magnesium. Basically they were the magical version of white phosphorous grenades, and they’d ensure that the trolls stayed dead for good. I tossed each in turn at the bodies, chanting a short spell as I threw them that would cause the jars to detonate on impact. The trolls were already starting to stir, and as each bomb struck and spread liquid fire over their bodies, they shrieked and writhed on the dirt floor of the barn.
The smell of the burning trolls was even worse than their normal smell, if that were even possible, so I quickly retreated from the building. Outside, I found that Belladonna had recovered. She was in the process of removing Sabine’s gag, untying her, and wiping her face off with a wet wipe. As I approached, she tossed me a travel pack of wipes.
“Just in case you hurled and need to clean up—I never do a job without them. Honestly, what kind of slob lets trolls on their property without casting an odor removal spell on them? It blows my mind that he could put up with that. Ugh.”
I pulled a wipe out of the package and held it under my nose, taking a deep whiff of the soap and baby powder scent it contained. “Well, one thing’s for sure: he wasn’t planning on keeping this place. Once those trolls stunk up that barn, it became completely unusable and unsellable—and for a barn, that’s saying something. That means he must be planning to leave here once he finishes whatever he’s been doing.”
On cue, a bright light flared from an upper-story window in the nearby converted silo. Bells pointed in the general direction of the silo and shook her head.
“That’s his laboratory. Looks like he’s working some serious magic up there—not good.” She stood and beckoned me. “Come on, we need to find out what he’s up to and stop him.”
I looked down at Sabine and back to Belladonna. “First, we need to get her someplace safe. No telling what else is roaming around on this farm. We leave her here and she’s as good as dead.”
Belladonna scowled and nodded. “You’re right. But as soon as she’s safe, I’m coming back here to kick that bastard’s ass.” She punched her fist into her palm and glared at the silo.
“There’ll be enough time for that later,” I lied. “Just watch my back while I get her to the car, and then you can do all the ass-kicking you want.” I carefully picked Sabine up in my arms and headed toward the front gate.
21
Journal Entry—9 Months, 22 Days A.J.
Well, nothing surprises me anymore. We were out roaming around in the brush, trying to find some peyote, when we came across this older woman who was harvesting medicinal plants. Turns out she’s a curandera, which is sort of like a local wise woman. She asked what the hell two gringos were doing out in the middle of the desert in South Texas, so we told her our story.
Leticia—that’s her name—said she knew the peyotero we’d pissed off, and that she’d try to talk him into letting us have some of his stuff. Whatever. I have rocks in my shoes, dust in every crack and crevice, and I’ve been stung and stuck so many times I can’t count how many cactus needles I’ve pulled out of my body. South Texas is way less hospitable than the Hill Country. Note to self: never buy land near the border.
I know, I know… some druid I turned out to be; I can’t even find a simple plant without help. Belladonna says I’m just off my game right now. Hopefully Leticia will have some luck with convincing this skinwalker to help us, because right now I just want to take a shower and a nap.
-McC
Austin, Texas—Present Day
A few minutes later we stood by the gate, and I nodded at the fence. “Bells, you’ll have to climb over first so I can hand her to you.”
Belladonna complied and vaulted the fence. I climbed a short way up the gate then handed Sabine over to her, and she carried Sabine to the back seat of Sal’s car. As soon as she turned her back to me I went to work altering the weaves on the containment spell, changing the spell parameters so it would keep every living creature present trapped on the property—and keep everything else out until dawn.
I slapped my hands down on the gate, chanting and releasing my magic to activate the barrier, and locking it with a deadman’s timer that would prevent anyone from canceling the spell before dawn. If anyone tampered with that ward before sunrise it’d shock them into next week, kind of like the world’s deadliest electric fence. A pale blue light flared up all along the fence line, dimming after a few seconds to shimmer softly in the dark.
When Belladonna saw what I had done, she sprinted toward the gate, only to be repelled by the wards as she approached.
“Colin, you dick!” she cried. “Let me in this second, or so help me I’m going to kick your ass after Crowley is through with you!”
I shook my head slowly. “Sorry, Bells, but I can’t let you help with this. For one, you can’t defeat Crowley—he’s just too strong. And if that fachen shows up, you know there’s only one way anybody is leaving this place alive.”
She reached out to me, pulling up just short of the magical barrier. “Colin, you can’t. Once the Circle finds out you’ve had another episode, they’ll hunt you mercilessly. You’ll never be able to live in peace.”
“I have to, Bells. I already lost Jesse, and there’s no way I’m going to lose you too.” I looked at the silo in the distance. “If I don’t come out at dawn, notify the Circle and bring them back here to raze this place to the ground.”
Bells just bit her lip and nodded. Without another word, I turned and ran for the silo, trying not to think about the fact that it was the first time I’d ever seen her cry.
I knew that the fachen was around somewhere, and I also knew it would likely be hiding behind a see-me-not charm or some sort of shadow spell. And since Crowley was simply that much better than me at magic, the chances that I would see it coming were nil to none. My only saving grace was the fact that it was damned hard to hide environmental effects of movement with magic. Even a complete invisibility spell (very hard to do, by the way) couldn’t cover for you if you knocked something off a table or rustled a curtain. Those were the sort of things that typically gave someone away
, no matter how good their see-me-not or invisibility spell might be.
Considering how big this fachen was, it was a good bet that I’d be able to sense its approach. Something that big would cause the ground to shake every time it moved, and it would break branches and trample foliage with every hopping step. As long as I was paying attention to my environment, I should have the ability to avoid an ambush.
Still, I tried to maintain as much stealth as possible as I advanced on the silo. I triggered my own see-me-not cantrip—a weak but usually adequate spell I had woven into my dad’s overcoat—clinging to the shadows made by buildings and trees as I made my way to the silo. Crowley was clearly working on something big in there. Every minute or so, bright lights flashed from the windows, and a sound like thunder drowned out the sounds made by the wind rustling through the trees and grass.
The barn where we’d left the trolls to burn was on fire now, and bound to draw the attention of the fachen and any other creatures who might have been guarding Crowley’s silo. I decided to use that to my advantage, and snuck around the far side of the tower to approach it from the shadows cast by the flames. The moment I made it to the silo’s walls, I felt a vibration through the ground beneath me.
Thrum… Thrum… THRUM. The fachen approached. I ducked down into the shadow of the silo wall and tried to use my second sight to determine where it was. At first, there was nothing to indicate its presence, but then I began to notice a large anomaly moving around the barn. It wasn’t so much a distortion of energies, but rather a feeling of something that was not there at all. Crowley’s shadow magic was strong and he was a highly skilled mage, much better than I had given him credit for; but once I knew what to look for, it was easy for me to determine the fachen’s position.
And, it was huge—easily five meters tall or more. It hopped around in a manner reminiscent of a giant kangaroo or jack rabbit, and from what I could tell it was much faster and more graceful than one might expect from such a large creature. The fachen circled the barn several times, sniffing loudly and grumbling as it wandered the area, and then it began to search the other outbuildings. I took that as a sign that I’d better duck inside the silo before it found me out.
The entry to the silo was straight out of a high fantasy novel, which stood in stark contrast to the corrugated, galvanized steel panels of the silo itself. The door was a massive oak thing, bound in iron and studded with huge hand-forged nails. Both wood and iron were etched with runes of protection and warding. I silently cursed as I read the runes, preparing to either do some quick magical lock-picking or find another way in. That’s when I realized that the wards and spells on the door had been disabled.
Curious. I gently nudged the door to find that it was unlocked, and left slightly ajar. Shit.
Everything about this scenario screamed “trap,” but I was too invested in seeing this whole mess through to the end to stop now. Sure, I could have waited for the Circle to show up in the morning, because I was certain Belladonna had already called it in. Yet, for the next several hours I was stuck in here with a sixteen-foot tall man-eating giant and a powerful wizard—one who may or may not have been in possession of a magical object that could slay a god. Not to mention that the wizard hated my guts and wanted me dead. The chances of me making it through the night without being discovered were slim to none, especially in light of the fact that Crowley apparently was already well aware of my presence.
So much for the element of surprise, I thought. But as they say, sometimes the only way out is through. Abandoning stealth, I pushed the door fully open and entered Crowley’s home. Inside, it was surprisingly chic and modern, like something you might have seen on one of those TV home makeover shows. The entire place was decorated in what some would call a “country modern” style, with lots of bead-board and wainscoting, light pastel accent walls done in earth tones, and sconces and light fixtures that had that late 1800s, almost steampunk industrial look. Not at all what I would have expected from a shadow wizard, but I had to say that I loved what he’d done with the place.
I stalked through the first floor, following the circular layout of the structure until I located the stairs.
“Oh, a wrought-iron bannister—nicely done,” I mumbled to myself as I headed up to the second floor. “I seriously have to find out who he hired to decorate this place.” Someday I planned to move out of the junkyard, hopefully after I completed my grad degree, and when that day came I definitely wouldn’t mind living in a pad like this one. Damned shame he was probably going to abandon it.
As I neared the second floor, I got my mind back on task and reached into my Craneskin Bag for a few “save my ass” tricks. I tucked one into the pocket of my overcoat, and kept the other in the palm of my hand. If everything worked out the way I planned, I’d take Crowley out without a fight, and thereby avoid triggering my ríastrad. I peeked around the corner of the entry to the second floor; it was a massive open library, with shelves running from floor to ceiling all the way around.
“Oh, now I’m really jealous,” I whispered to myself. Thankfully, this level was empty and showed no signs of life. However, the racket from Crowley’s magic was growing louder, and coming from the floor above. I looked around and spotted a ladder staircase. Flashes of light shone through the cracks in and around a trap door sitting above the ladder, in time with the thunder claps coming from above.
I took a deep breath and began climbing up. Pausing at the top, I listened intently during lulls in the thundering racket. Above, Crowley chanted in old Tuatha, a language Finn sometimes used when casting his most powerful spells. How the wizard had learned to speak an ancient fae dialect was beyond me. I had been of the impression that no one but the oldest living creatures remembered that language. I decided I was pretty well screwed and pushed open the trap door, throwing caution to the wind as I climbed up into Crowley’s aerie.
The place looked just as you might expect: an open room with wood slat floors, brick walls, and a huge thaumaturgic circle etched into the floor, the type used both for summonings and for containing the effects of particularly nasty spells. Work tables and stacks of shelves leaned against the exterior walls, containing all manner of alchemical and scientific equipment. I noted Bunsen burners and beakers, jars and glasses filled with various liquids and preserved body parts (both human and nonhuman), dry chemicals in sealed containers, scales and measures, and neat rows of reference books and grimoires—except for those left open in various random spots around the room.
Crowley of course stood in the middle of the circle, chanting intently, moving his hands around a smooth, levitating stone sphere about six inches in diameter. Strange eldritch energies popped and crackled between his hands and the object, which was most certainly Maeve’s missing tathlum. He paid me no mind as my eyes darted around the place, but the trap door slammed shut behind me as an imp popped into view a few feet to my right.
The little creature sat cross-legged on the edge of a shelf, resting its chin on its closed fist. It was grayish-green in color, roughly two feet tall, bald and hairless—with pointed ears and a forked tail that swished around as it examined me.
The imp looked me up and down and rolled its eyes. “So, you’re the one the master has been going on and on about. What a letdown. The way he spoke of you, I was expecting someone much more impressive.”
He—if it was a he, because I didn’t care to look closely enough to determine its sex—picked his nose and flicked goo off his finger at the circle, causing a shimmering green barrier of light to appear as it zapped the snot into a puff of white smoke.
The imp cleared his throat and pointed with his chin at the shimmering magical barrier. “Not a good idea to try to enter that circle right now. Probably fry you like a pork chop. The master told me to let you know he’d be with you in a moment. Make yourself at home in the meantime.” Then the imp picked up a copy of People magazine from the shelf next to it, flipped it open to an earmarked page, and proceeded to ignore me.
Crowley was currently occupied, there was no way I was getting through that barrier, and I had no other option except to go back outside and get eaten by the fachen. So, I pulled up a chair and waited. After about five minutes, I grew bored and began walking around the place, admiring the wizard’s lab as well as the impressive collection of magical tomes and references in his collection. He had all the usual stuff: The Testament and Keys of Solomon, The Pythagorean Mysteries, The Picatrix, works by Faust and Marlowe, Le Petit Albert, and the Sefer Raziel Ha-Malakh. But he also had more esoteric works, including some written in the ancient language of the Tuatha Dé Danann. I also spotted The Book of Azathoth, a rather suspect translation of Unaussprechliche Kulte, and what might have been a copy of De Vermis Mysteriis. Apparently, Crowley dealt in some seriously dark shit.
I reached for the last book, but stopped when the imp coughed loudly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. The last idiot who opened that thing and tried to read it grew tentacles from her fingers and went mad. Last we heard she was locked up at the state hospital after shouting ‘Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!’ over and over again until her throat hemorrhaged. Personally, I think he just keeps it around to be mean.”
I slowly backed away from the tome and placed my hands in my pockets. The imp flipped a page in his gossip rag and went back to ignoring me. I wandered around a few more minutes, then got bored and sat back down. After twiddling my thumbs for a while, I pulled out my phone and played through several levels of Cut the Rope while Crowley finished his business.
After waiting a good twenty minutes, Crowley’s chanting increased in volume and intensity, and the peals of thunder and flashes of light grew closer and closer together. I squinted to avoid being blinded, stuffing my fingers in my ears to muffle the sound. With a final crash and a flash of amber light, the Tathlum split in two, revealing a bright glowing gem within.
