Beacon's Fury (Potomac Shadows Book 3)

by Jim Johnson

  The two ‘geists attacked and counter-attacked each other with ferocity. Even with the warding dome up, I dragged more ley threads together to create a separate dome around the two ‘geists, hoping to shield the citizens from any possible collateral damage.

  Malcolm moved toward cover closer to the two combatants. As he did, it struck me that I could hear sirens in the distance, sirens that grew louder in volume the closer they got. Crap.

  I called out to Malcolm. “We need to make this quick! Police are on the way!”

  He glanced at me and nodded, then charged up a ball of bronze fire in one hand. He waited for an opening, then took the shot, hitting the evil ‘geist square between the shoulders.

  Bright fire erupted all around the ‘geist, but it refused to fall. It howled an unnatural cry, and then lashed out at the other ‘geist with renewed fury.

  The two wrestled together for another several heartbeats, while Malcolm and I tried to get in some shots with fire or my silvery ball.

  Malcolm’s ‘geist made a bold maneuver and slashed at the thing’s legs, and it collapsed. I dropped my heavy silver ball on it and Malcolm doused it with twin jets of bronze fire.

  Like its brother before it, the ‘geist writhed around as it caught fire and started to burn away. Unlike its brother, this one sort of collapsed in on itself and then exploded in a bright yellow-gold burst of ley energies that spread out in all directions like millions of tiny darts.

  I threw a shield up between the blast and myself and Malcolm, but I was so exhausted from the fight that I was a little slow on the trigger. Several ley shards dug into my arm and stomach while several more cut into Malcolm’s legs.

  We both cried out in pain and Malcolm hit the ground, clutching at his wounds. I fell to my knees and dragged myself over to him.

  I spared a glance for the civilians hunkered behind the dumpster. Other than looking freaked out, they didn’t seem to be injured.

  I got my hands underneath Malcolm’s armpits and bodily lifted him up off the ground and onto his feet. “Come on, Malcolm! We’ve got to get out of here!”

  The moving truck and parts of the pavement around the area were ablaze in a mix of bronze etheric fire and regular old flames, and the two ‘geist bodies were also sprawled out on the pavement, either afire or smoking ruins. Fortunately both were so badly damaged that no one was going to be able to identify them.

  “Malcolm, we’ve got to get to your car and drive! We can’t afford to get held up by the cops.”

  Because there’s no way we’d be able to explain this, and there was too much going on for us to get laid out in a questioning room or at worse, prison.

  Malcolm staggered toward his Mustang, and I did the best I could to get him there. He struggled to walk—I guessed the cuts from the exploding ‘geist went deep. I wasn’t feeling too great either.

  Malcolm sagged against me and fell to the ground, dragging me down with him. We were a tangle of arms and legs, but soon he managed to grab my hands and, together, we got to our feet.

  He pressed his car keys into my hand and gestured toward the car. “Go, go on. You drive us. I don’t think I can with two injured legs.”

  I bit my lip in concentration and somehow we managed to get him into the passenger seat and me into the driver’s seat. The sirens were close now, maybe a couple blocks away. I fired up the engine, amazed that once again Malcolm’s car had somehow escaped damage from an arcane fight.

  Under other circumstances I might have been thrilled to be driving such a great car, but right now all I wanted to do was to get the hell away from there.

  As I shifted the car into gear, I glanced out the side window. Mrs. Mabry had gotten to her feet and was taking in the sight around her. She glanced toward Malcolm’s car and caught my eye.

  She gave me a big smile and a thumb’s up. I didn’t know what else to do, so I gave her sort of a shrugging half-smile, and then hit the gas.

  “No, no! Don’t tear out of here!” said Malcolm. “Drive slow and steady. If we cross any police cars, they won’t necessarily peg us as involved if we act normal. If you go burning rubber out of here, they’ll want to check us out.”

  “Shit, all right.” I eased off the gas and clamped both hands on the steering wheel and tried as hard as I could to dig deep for some calming breaths. I was exhausted but my heart was banging away in my chest and I was seeing stars in my eyes.

  I shook my head and drove down the road, slow and steady like Malcolm had suggested. A large fire truck, a paramedic unit, and a pair of DC Police cars streaked past us going the opposite direction, and it was all I could do to not duck down into the seat and goose the accelerator.

  I stared into the rearview and watched them drive hard down the road and then disappear, angling in toward the rising smoke our battle had created.

  I guided the Mustang out of the city and back onto I-395, and didn’t barely breathe again until we were over the Virginia line.

  I found a cell phone waiting pull-off near National Airport, and parked. My hands still clenched on the wheel, I forced myself to take some deep cleansing breaths.

  Malcolm hunkered in the passenger seat, clutching his wounded legs. “Why did you stop?”

  I shook my head. “I needed to catch my breath, for one. Second, I don’t know where to go now. I don’t know if the police can track the fight to us, but if they can’t, I bet the Spinner can.”

  Malcolm stared at me with gritted teeth. “You think the Spinner is responsible for those two ‘geists?”

  I met his eyes and nodded. “I think he has to be. I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who has it in for us. That was a deliberate attack.”

  Malcolm shook his head, “Christ.” He examined the ten-dollar bill in his hand and crumpled it up and shoved it back into a pants pocket. “Glad I decided to hold onto that thing.”

  I sighed. “I thought you were gonna get rid of it.”

  He shot me a defensive look. “I’m still planning to. Just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  “All the same. I’m glad you did have it with you. I was about out of juice. I don’t think I could do much of anything with the ley threads right now. I’m tapped out.”

  He nodded. “I’m about zeroed out as well.” He winced and then clutched at his legs again. “We need some place to lie low for a while. Where should we go?”

  I glanced at him. “Miss Chin?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly our best friend right now, and she might have a hard time accepting what we just did, out in broad daylight, with witnesses.”

  Point. I scrunched up my face in thought. “We can’t go to my home or your home; that’ll just encourage the Spinner to hit us where it hurts.”

  Malcolm nodded. “And even then that may not stop him. What about your friend in Del Rey?”

  The proverbial lightbulb went off my in my head and I knew that was the right answer. “Bonita. Gods, yes. That’s the place.”

  I shoved the gearstick into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot. I merged back onto the G.W. Parkway and pointed us toward Del Rey. I didn’t know what sort of reception we’d get, but of anyone I knew, Bonita was going to be our best choice.

  And if she couldn’t help us, we were really screwed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE TRIP TO BONITA’S FROM THE G.W. Parkway didn’t take long. I had barely enough time to call her ahead of time and tell her we were on the way. I asked her to unlock the back door to her little maternity slash new age store in town.

  She must have heard the urgency in my voice, because she said she’d scare off any lingering customers and close up early. I thanked her and hung up so I could focus on my driving.

  I spent more time walking and taking public transit than I did driving any more, but like a lot of skills, it’s not one you forget. Malcolm’s Mustang was a stick shift, which was fine since I was taught to drive on a stick, but still I think I managed to almost stall the thing a couple times on the
way to Bonita’s.

  Not to mention that my belly and my arm burned like hell. Somehow that ‘geist had figured out how to weaponize the ley energies and had lashed out in an explosion as it was dying.

  I glanced at Malcolm, who was curled up in the passenger seat, hands pressed on his thighs and moaning quietly.

  “Malcolm…the attack, I think it was like your fire hands, just a different application.”

  Through gritted teeth, he said, “Why are we even talking about this? Isn’t enough that the thing attacked us and managed to wound both of us?”

  I focused on the road and turned onto Howell Street and hurried through the stop signs to get to Mount Vernon Avenue. “I dunno. I guess I get chatty when I’m keyed up?”

  He shook his head. “Are we there yet?”

  I nodded as I turned left onto Mount Vernon. “Almost. A few more blocks and a turn and then we park. Bonita’ll be waiting for us.”

  “Great.” He didn’t sound all that enthused, but I guess I couldn’t blame him. I felt like I had been stabbed in the gut a hundred times with the point of a safety pin.

  I managed to navigate us through downtown Del Rey and into the little parking lot behind Bonita’s shop, then shut down the car and managed to get myself out of the car without making my injuries worse.

  The back door to Bonita’s shop opened up and Bonita ran out, her long black hair pulled back into a bun. She was wearing a yellow cotton sun dress that contrasted with her tanned skin, and she was barefoot, as she was wont to be when she was working in her shop.

  She met me at the passenger side door of the Mustang. “What the hell happened to you two?”

  I shook my head as I opened the door. “Let’s wait ’til we get inside. Help me with Malcolm.”

  Bonita spit out a quiet curse in Spanish and then reached into the car to help me pull Malcolm out. He groaned as we helped him to his feet, and then with us supporting him on either side, we half-dragged, half-guided him into the store through the back door.

  We navigated him through the tiny back room and dropped him into the old wooden captain’s chair Bonita had installed in her quasi-office. It creaked alarmingly under Malcolm’s weight, but held firm. I sat in that chair all the time and weathered its groans and shrieks, and the thing had yet to collapse underneath me.

  Bonita closed the back door and then after glancing at the two of us, locked the door. She hurried back to us and shrugged at my questioning look. “Couldn’t hurt, right? I’m guessing you two are either actively in trouble, or actively looking to avoid it.”

  I nodded and perched myself on the side of her large steel desk. “We’ve had better days. Long story short—we were in the middle of a move when we got ambushed by a pair of the Spinner’s deadly ‘geists.”

  Bonita’s hand shot up to her mouth and her dark brown eyes widened. “Oh shit! Was anyone else hurt?”

  Miserably, I nodded my head. “One of Malcolm’s day workers was slashed to ribbons, and I think some of the onlookers might have gotten singed or maybe caught some collateral damage when one of the ‘geists…uh…exploded.”

  Bonita’s hands dropped to her side. “What?”

  Malcolm winced as he tried to find a comfortable position to sit in the chair. “Exploded. In a burst of etheric energies, like ley ice picks flying all over the place. My legs got shredded and I think Rachel took a few in the belly.”

  Both of Bonita’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit! I didn’t think that was even possible.”

  I laid back on the desk, because it felt better to stretch out my stomach than to be all scrunched up. “I was trying to tell Malcolm that it was sort of like his fire hands, just a different application of the ley energies.”

  Bonita inclined her head as if in thought, then nodded. “Actually, that makes sense to me. Same basic effect—wounding someone with the ley, just a different way of applying that effect. Ice picks instead of fire.”

  Malcolm groaned again. “Jesus! Why are we talking about this?” He focused glassy eyes on Bonita. “Anything you can do to help?”

  Bonita bit her lip and then focused on his legs. “I’m not sure. I don’t see any blood. If you were attacked with the ley threads, maybe the damage isn’t really physical in nature?”

  “It sure as hell feels physical!” Malcolm barked.

  I raised a hand from my prone position on the desk. “Stop yelling. It’s not helping.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Not yelling isn’t helping either. I’m, like, cut in a hundred places here and you two are chatting about the semantics of using the ley threads.”

  I’d about had it with him. “Oh, listen to you, Mister Drop-out! Do you even know what ‘semantics’ means?”

  Bonita raised both arms and the air around us got noticeably cooler. “Stop it, both of you! I’m not going to stand here and listen to the two of you bitch at each other.”

  That got both our attentions. I clamped down and focused on my breathing, hoping to control the pain that way. Malcolm muttered something indecipherable, but it was probably just as well.

  She nodded. “That’s somewhat better. Now, my abilities with the ley threads are way different than yours and much more limited. I just don’t have the touch that the two of you have.”

  I started to protest, but she raised a hand. “Shush. I’m a doula and a midwife, and my modest healing abilities have helped a lot of women through a lot of pregnancies, and I’m proud of that and always humbled at my abilities.”

  She sighed. “I guess I just want you to be aware that my training isn’t your training. You two have told me about the Weavers and Beacons and Wardens and so forth, and my talents just come from a slightly different tradition.”

  Malcolm managed a grunt and a nod. “Like you were just saying, right? I use the ley threads for fire, the ‘geist used it for darts. A Weaver might use the ley threads to heal wounds and you use it to help women give birth. Different application of the same power?”

  Bonita mustered up a smile and patted Malcolm on his shoulder. “You got it, my friend.” She focused on his legs. “Now, between the two of you, which one of you hurts more? If the pain was on a scale of zero—barely a hangnail, to ten—‘oh my God my ass is bleeding out’, where are you?”

  I stifled a laugh and then considered it. “I’d say about a four, maybe a five if I twist around from my waist.”

  Bonita nodded. “Thanks, chica.” She focused on Malcolm. “And how about you?”

  He glanced at me and then focused on Bonita. “As much as I’d like to use some macho bullshit and say I don’t hurt as much, I’m gonna be honest and say I’m at like a six or seven. Both my legs got cut up bad, and I’m in some sort of state of shock that I ain’t seeing any blood for how much this hurts.”

  Bonita nodded. “All right. Malcolm, I’ll try to tend to you first.” She glanced at me. “If you can center in and manage your pain, you can observe what I do with him and maybe pick up a few insights along the way.”

  I nodded. “All right. I think I can manage that.”

  Bonita started gathering up some supplies from various cabinets within the back room. “Was Charity of any help during the fight, or now? I bet she’d know something about healing etheric damage.”

  Oh, hell. I shook my head. “I forgot all about Charity. I left her journal at home this morning.”

  Bonita frowned. “I thought you took her everywhere.”

  “I do, most of the time. Cut me some slack. I was up before the sun, way before any mortal being had any right to be awake.”

  Bonita snorted and then started arranging candles on the table next to Malcolm and the chair. “Try being up in the middle of the night with a pregnant woman entering her twentieth hour of hard labor and then tell me about how tired you were.”

  I waved off her comment. “I don’t think too well first thing in the morning, you know that.”

  A twinge of pain from my stomach took my breath away. I forced myself to calm down, to regain my b
reath and go slow. After I rallied, I said, “I’ll try meditating while you’re looking at Malcolm. I’ll also see if I can reach out to Charity for some help.”

  Bonita lit the candles with a focused thought and manipulation of the ley threads. I felt the change in the ley around us, though the particular technique she used eluded me. She was right—she did work the ley threads slightly differently that Malcolm and I had figured out how to, and different than Miss Chin had taught us.

  She clasped her hands together, then focused on Malcolm. If I squinted my Sight just so, I saw her gather up ley threads in a similar fashion to how Malcolm and I did it.

  “All right, Malcolm. If I remember right, you can center and use the ley threads to calm yourself, correct?”

  Sitting in the chair, holding his arms tight across his chest, he glanced up at her and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that, at least.”

  Bonita nodded. “Good. I want you to do that now. Pull on as many ley threads as you need for strength and support, and then center in, as deep as you can go.”

  She reached out with her ley threads, and surprised me by feeding some of their latent power into a series of arcane, anchored triggers set at regular intervals along the wall of the shop.

  I raised an eyebrow even though I remained laying on the desk, and scanned the triggers with my Sight. Once I saw the construct, I managed a quick bark of laughter that I immediately regretted. I cringed in pain and let out a moan.

  “Dammit, Bonita. Laughing makes me hurt.”

  She remained focused on her clasped hands and on Malcolm. “What made you laugh?”

  I gestured toward the back wall of her store. “The ward matrix you have built into your store. I had no idea it existed until just now.”

  She shot me a smirk. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets.”

  I sighed, letting out the breath slow so that I didn’t twinge my guts again. “Yeah, but still. How many times have Malcolm and I trained downstairs and had no idea those wards were up here?”