by Trudi Jaye
I glance around again, looking for Seth, but I can’t see him. Where could he have gone?
“Come with me. I’ll show it to you.” He gestures toward a red curtain hanging behind the counter. I hesitate, but this is what I’ve come here for. I have to go get it.
He holds the curtain to one side and I duck my head going through. It’s dark, lit only by a single dirty lamp that gives off a hazy glow.
“If you come this way, I’ll show you the special room where we keep our most valuable items.”
Again I hesitate. I should have told Seth where I was going. I glance back out to the main shop.
“Don’t worry, your friend will be fine.”
He reaches out with one gnarled hand and turns the brass handle of an old carved wooden door. It opens inward, and he enters ahead of me, holding the door open as I cautiously follow him into the space. It’s a magical version of the pawnshop outside. Artifacts, talismans, objects of power, cards—everything you could possibly wish to own or hold as a magic user. The room is dark, with only narrow dirty windows at the top of the room letting in light. The rain is beating on the roof, making the room feel even smaller.
I take another step inside and then another. Several objects call out to me, whispers of energy that I want to answer.
“Watch yourself. There are objects that are... less than savory. You wouldn’t want to get yourself caught by one of them.”
I glance at him; his face is showing an unholy amusement. I don’t think he’d be bothered if I got sucked into one of these objects of power. He’s the kind of person who might have a bit of a chuckle about it and then go back to eating his cheese sandwich out in the main store.
“It’s over there in the corner.”
I follow his pointed finger, and there it is, just as I remember it. Well, almost. It’s smaller and less polished. But it’s definitely the one Jeff left here. I tiptoe carefully around the worst of the objects, the ones with the strongest pull. The spell web coats all the objects as well, something I’ve never seen before. They must have sufficient power to kick it into gear. It’s this whisper of a thought that makes me look up again. He’s a collector of powerful magic objects. He’s not going to let one go, just because I came back and asked for it.
Turning, I bounce a couple of times, reminding myself to be light on my feet. He’s right behind me, with a small blue bottle raised in my direction. A strange blue mist is seeping out the slim bottle neck, and I immediately step back as fast as I can, trying not to breathe in any of the mist.
“What are you doing?” I say.
“There’s a bounty on your head. I can’t let an opportunity like that go by.”
I remember the radio announcement Vincent put up before he captured me. “That was for the humans. It wasn’t a supernatural bounty.”
“It’s been upgraded. The Earthbound are very anxious to get hold of you. I’m just doing my civic duty.”
“Civic duty my ass. You’re doing this for the money. Whatever they’re offering, I’ll pay more,” I say desperately.
“They’re offering one million dollars.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “Care to beat that offer?”
My eyes bug out at the amount. “Seriously?” Anger burns for a moment. “What the hell? Why doesn’t he just give up?” I glare at the old man. I don’t have that kind of cash lying around. “I’ll talk to the SIG. They’ll pay it for me.”
He laughs. “They won’t pay a dime.”
“Do you know what they think I am?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Must be pretty special, based on the reward.” He shrugs. “I don’t care.”
“The last of the dragons.” I hold up one hand and a flame appears over my fingers. It’s just a small piece of magic, easy for most supers, but perhaps it will work on the old man, whatever he is. I can’t tell what kind of magic he has, other than he’s a supernatural.
He steps closer, and this time his eyes are glowing a bright frosty blue, like he’s got torches shining out from behind his irises. It matches the color of the mist coming out of the bottle.
I see immediately that I’ve made a serious tactical error.
“I’ve never had a dragon in my collection,” he says with a luminous smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“You never intended to give me the box, did you?” I say, trying to stall. Taking a step backward, I try to figure out what I can use in the room around me. There are lots of items, just not any I’m prepared to actually touch. They all have dark and painful vibrations coming from them, and I know nothing good will come from manhandling them.
“The box is mine now. You took too long before coming back. Your SIG agent should have known better than to leave it so long with me.”
His eyes glow brighter for a second and I shiver. He must be some kind of water elemental; living next to the Mississippi, it would make sense.
“Bullshit,” I say, stepping behind a table set up with various knives. I’m tempted to pick one up, but the spell web is buckling and shifting over them in such an unstable way, I know I’d regret it.
My best bet is to avoid touching any of the terrible artifacts surrounding me.
“Is there anything in here not full of darkness and hate?” I ask caustically. I’m trying to distract him, but I’m interested in the answer.
“My collection is varied. I have everything I could possibly desire in here.”
Not much of an answer. But I know the answer for myself, I can see it through the spell web. “I’ll buy the box off you.”
He scoffs. “Well of course, you would have done that. But now I know what you are, I think I would prefer you in my collection.”
My heart skids to a halt. I’ve done this to myself, I know that. “I’m not a dragon. They just think I am. I was trying to scare you.”
He looks me up and down. “I admit, you don’t look like a dragon.”
Something pings inside me, and I realize I’m insulted. “What does a dragon look like then?”
“Bigger perhaps? More intimidating?”
My eyes narrow. “Intimidation is overrated.” I make a dash for the box in the corner, grab it, and back off before he can make a move. I admit to myself that I was trying to show off my speed.
And it works. Dammit.
He’s staring at me with a collector’s expression; an otherworldly greed mixed with a single-minded focus on getting what he wants. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re a dragon or not. I’ve decided to add you to my collection. You have an interesting mix of talents.” He takes a step toward me and holds up the smoking bottle. “The spell in this bottle is too powerful, even for a dragon.” He smiles, and I see a row of pointy brown teeth.
The blue smoke wafts toward me and I feel the strong seduction of the magic. It’s like a magnet that’s been tuned to me personally. I can’t let it touch me, or it’ll be the end. Or at least the end of me living outside the little blue bottle.
The spell web shudders as the smoke drifts over it, and I send a wave of energy along the grid. The smoke hesitates, then continues floating toward me. Taking a step back, I bump into another table, disturbing a row of tiny bottles. One falls to the floor and crashes wide open. I jerk back and the strange man in front of me swears. The wooden box slips to one side under my arm, and I grasp it more tightly.
Holding my breath, I steady myself to fend off whatever magic was caught inside the broken bottle. Something emerges, a blurry outline of a dark creature. It issues a low growl and pauses near me; I tense, unsure if it’s a threat. But after a second of hesitation, it simply escapes out of the room through the ceiling vents as fast as it can go.
It wasn’t interested in me, just in getting out of the room. How many of the other magical objects in this room feel the same way? Letting the creatures escape might provide me with the distraction I need. It can’t be a worse plan than allowing that blue mist to suck me into the bottle for God knows how many years.
I’m not going
to be a damn genie.
Swiping at the rest of the vials on the tabletop, I knock them all to the floor. They break open on contact with the hard concrete, and I step back and away as mist and smoke burst forth from the remains. None stay around to chat, but the action has distracted the old man enough for me to make a few steps around to the other side of the room. I see another couple of bottles, bigger ones this time, on a shelf near me. I turn and lift a hand to swipe them down to the floor, between me and the old man.
“No!” he yells. “Not that one!” He tries to leap for me, but he’s too slow and old.
Like I’m going to listen to him, anyway.
The bottles make a satisfying crash onto the floor, and break in two, exactly at halfway. It’s strange after the chaos of the vials to see such precision. This time the smoke is slow to emerge, and before too much escapes, I know I’ve made a terrible mistake. I back up toward the door as a creature solidifies out of the smoke and into real life. He’s big and muscled and vaguely human-shaped, but looks like he’s just escaped from the depths of a fire, with smoke and soot and ash covering his body. Flames burst out from pockets on his skin, and his hair is more flame than anything else. He’s a demon.
Turns out my tormentor was right. I should have left that one alone.
The demon swipes at me with one large meaty fist, but he’s slow, still getting his bearings from being in the bottle, and I manage to leap out of the way. I look left and right, trying to find something that might help. Fire won’t affect him, but something to cool him down? I spot a fridge in the corner of the room and feel the ice sitting inside just waiting for me to use it.
But before I can figure out a plan, the demon pauses and sniffs the air. He turns toward the back of the room, like he’s hunting something down.
The pawnshop owner is cowering in one corner, his hands over his head, repeating some kind of protection spell over and over. It’s the kind of useless spell that doesn’t even provide a blip on the spell web, and I hesitate for a moment, looking at the door behind me. I could leave right now, let the shop owner take what he’s got coming and get out.
But then I look at the demon, twice the size of anything I’ve seen before, and I know I can’t let it loose on the world. I have to clean up my mess.
“Hey, ugly!” I yell, trying to get his attention. He clearly isn’t that bothered by name calling, because he ignores me and continues toward his prey. I’m pretty sure I’m next, as soon as he’s torn his tormentor limb from limb.
Putting the wooden box down by the carved wooden door, I race to the fridge and open it, trying to gauge what I have to work with.
Using my water magic, I pull the ice out, elongating it into long, thin spikes. I hold a dozen of them in the air, aimed at the demon, and flick my wrist, sending them at top speed toward the fire-covered creature. They enter his skin and immediately melt in a sizzling hiss of steam. The demon roars, holding his head back like he’s a wolf baying at the moon.
And then he lowers his head and turns to look at me. There is such heat and hatred in his gaze, I can barely keep looking at him. He’s making a promise to me, I know that much. Then he turns back to the pawnshop owner. He makes one final leap and lands on top of the man. Long claws rake the man’s body, separating skin from bone.
I leap at the demon, landing on its back, and force my arms around its neck. Pulling them closed, I try to block off his air. It occurs to me too late that a demon probably doesn’t need to breathe. He shakes me off like a rag doll and throws me across the room. I smash into the wall beside the carved door and drop down to land on a small coffee table laden with dolls and toys. My back feels like I’ve been run over by a train, and I think my head might be bleeding. I see stars for a couple of minutes as I try to figure out what just happened.
At least now I know that demons don’t breathe.
Something is digging into my side and I pull out a small toy train. I drop it immediately when the dark energy coming off it tries to soak into my skin.
Across the room, there is silence except for the wet sounds of the demon eating raw meat. For a moment, I consider vomiting, but don’t have time or the energy.
The demon will turn to me next.
A fist pounding on the outside door distracts me. Seth. He’s yelling my name, and in the next second, something crashes against the locked door. He’s trying to smash it in. I need to finish this off fast, or he’s going to get killed as well.
I pull myself to my feet, even as the demon stands up on his hind legs. Blood is dripping from his mouth, and when he grins at me, I see pieces of raw flesh stuck between his sharpened teeth.
It advances slowly, and I try to think straight. The wooden box at my feet catches my eye, and I grab it in both hands. Maybe this isn’t quite what Jeff had in mind as a use for the box, but if it helps me get out of this mess, I’ll take it. When he’s close enough, I take a running leap forward, holding the wooden box high. I only have one shot, so I have to get it right first time.
It’s such an unexpected move that I manage to slam the box into the side of the demon’s head and then leap to one side. He halts, and rusty-red demon blood gushes down his face from the wound. But he just grins and slaps me with one meaty fist. The blast of his blow knocks me to the ground, and my head slams against the concrete. Dazed, I look up at the demon looming over me. I try to pull myself backward along the floor. A whimpering noise comes from my mouth, and I wish I could make myself shut the hell up.
What I need is a plan, not scaredy-cat noises.
But no plans magically appear in my head, just a roaring noise that blocks everything else out.
The roaring becomes louder and louder until I can’t hear anything else. The demon is so close I can feel his breath on my face. I open my mouth to scream and the roaring erupts from my mouth like molten lava from a volcano.
The sound waves knock the demon backward. I sit up and open my mouth again. Another roar bursts out, shoving the demon across the room, crashing it into a shelf full of weapons. Knives, swords, and other more obscure weapons rain down on the demon, some of them cutting open its skin. He’s lying next to the bloodied remains of the shop owner, and I swallow down the bile rising up my throat.
Something blue catches my eye. Lying near the old man’s body is the little blue bottle he’d been trying to trap me in. The cork stopper at the top has been replaced; he must have decided to save it for after the demon attack. He was obviously a glass-half-full kind of guy.
I surge forward and grab the tiny bottle.
Without thinking, I lift one arm and pull on the demon through the spell web. He’s still dazed and his eyes aren’t focused, but he moves toward me. He growls, low and deep. The noise sends shivers down my spine. His eyes start to clear. I wonder if I really want him closer to me. I lift my hand again, but this time, energy buzzing in the air over my head makes me pause. I hear thunder, and then lightning bursts through the metal roof of the old building, straight into my hand. It ricochets out from my hand and into the demon. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to block out the mind-blowing energy that’s hurtling around the small room. There’s a sizzling, burning sound, and a flash of bright light. And then it’s quiet. I open my eyes, and the demon is lying beside me, his fires out and his eyes closed. I poke at his body with one foot. He’s not moving.
I don’t think demons can die. I’m pretty sure about this fact. But this one has been knocked out for the count. I uncork the bottle and hold it out in front of me with both hands. The blue smoke emerges again and I can only hope that it’s not going to trap me in there instead of the demon. My heart is beating one hundred miles an hour, and sweat drips down my back. I’ve never done anything like this before, and it’s only because the demon came from another bottle that it occurs to me it’s even possible.
The smoke hesitates, and I hold my breath. Then it locks onto the demon, wafting in his direction.
Even unconscious, he resists, straining against the magic
in the bottle. But he’s been locked away a long time and he’s taken out most of his initial rage on the pawnshop owner. The blue mist touches his legs, and they start to shrink, even as they’re pulled toward the bottle. I feel a moment of remorse—I’d be angry too if I’d been locked in a bottle for who-knows-how long. His rage doesn’t mean he deserves to go back into another prison. Then I remember the likely consequences of setting him free. I glance over at the pile of gore that was once a strange old man.
The pawnshop owner brought it on himself by trying to lock me up in a damn bottle and keeping dangerous demons in his basement. But the people who will be affected by this demon are all around me, innocents living their daily lives without knowledge of the supernatural, and I have no intention of letting them suffer for my moment of weakness.
A loud, splintering noise comes from the doorway, and the door breaks in half. Seth bursts through the shattered remains, his face red from the exertion. He glances around the disordered room, his eyes pausing on the half-eaten body of the owner and then flicking to me.
I’m still trying to hold the blue bottle out as far away from me as I can. The upper body and arms of the demon are being sucked through the tiny neck of the bottle. With a pop, the demon’s head squeezes down the narrow opening and I screw the top over it.
Seth walks cautiously over to me. “Are you okay?”
I lift the tiny bottle, which now has a moving cloud of dark energy flowing across its surface. “I think so,” I whisper. I put the bottle in my pocket, then reach one hand to my head and feel the blood matted in with the hair.
“What the hell happened? I heard the sound of fighting.”
I blink. What did happen? “He tried to collect me.”
Seth frowns down at the owner’s body; it’s already starting to smell.
“He’s rotting faster than he should,” Seth notes. “I think we should get out of here. Fast.”
I just nod. He takes my hand, and I realize I’m still trembling.
As we walk past the door, I stop, trying to pick up Jeff’s wooden box, now covered in demon blood. The rusty orange color stands out against the intricate patterns on the wood. Seth pushes my hand aside and picks it up in one large hand. He tucks it under his arm and pulls me out of the room.
