by Jasmine Walt
“Hey, fuck-face!” I yell, and the ghoul closest to me whips around.
“Ace!” Jacques calls out, turning toward me. The other ghoul attacks, biting Jac hard on the neck. He grabs it by its head, pulling it away. He doesn’t let go, and a chunk of Jacques’s skin comes off along with it.
One of the ghouls comes barreling at me, and I slow, holding up the poker. He’s making this easy as he practically impales himself. But before the poker can hit it in the heart, he’s pulled back and thrown to the ground. Jacques swoops in, thinking I’m about to get my face chewed off.
“It’s iron,” I pant, unable to see behind Jacques’s wings. Those things are close. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I think he’s going to tell me to go back inside and stay away from the danger just like Hasan.
Instead, he nods and whirls around, taking to the sky and knocking the nearest ghoul to the ground. I run forward, poker raised in my hand again. This time, I bring it down on the ghoul, breaking its sternum on my way to its heart.
“The sun,” Jacques calls to the others in warning, and spins around with more grace than anyone his size should possess. He grabs the other ghoul by the arms and brings it to me, holding it out so I can kill it too.
“Are you hurt?” he asks me when he drops the dead ghoul to the ground.
“Not seriously,” I say, knowing he can see the claw marks on my arms. “But you are?”
He brings his hand to his neck, as if he’s just now realizing a chunk of skin is missing and he’s bleeding. “I’ll heal.”
One of the ghouls breaks away from Thomas and Gilbert and comes barreling at us. Jacques takes the fire poker from me and throws it forward with impressive accuracy.
“I didn’t know priests were so well versed in warfare,” I say, running my eyes over him.
“I’m starting to enjoy the ability to surprise you,” he replies, and moves forward to pull the poker from the ghoul’s body. He comes right back to me, protective but not doting. Obviously, I can hold my own. I take the fire poker back and move farther out into the yard, looking for more.
“I think we got them all.” Thomas lands a few feet from me, wiping ghoul blood from his face.
“Check the house,” Jacques says once Gilbert comes over. He flicks his eyes to the horizon. “Hurry.”
Hasan pulls his part of the tong from a ghoul and tosses the body on top of another.
“You’re not supposed to let them bite you,” he tells Jacques, smirking.
Jacques raises an eyebrow. “You should have told me that sooner.” He wipes away a drip of blood.
“What the hell just happened?” I ask, heart still racing. I’m on edge, not fully convinced all the ghouls are gone.
“Ghouls attacked us,” Hasan answers.
“I know. But why?”
“Ghouls are sent,” Jacques starts.
“Sent?” I question. With the adrenaline wearing off, the exhaustion I felt before hits again.
“By someone—or something—with powers.”
“Someone knows who I am,” I say slowly as things start to click in my mind. “And I don’t just mean they know I exist. They know I’m a witch.”
“Yes,” Jacques says, not attempting to soften the blow. “For ghouls to find you, you had to have been marked.”
“Marked? How?”
“I believe the term is a ‘calling card.’ Some sort of hexed object was put into your possession to draw the ghouls to you.”
“How?” I ask again, and quickly shake my head. “And when?”
“Tonight,” Hasan says, still gripping the piece of twisted iron. I think he’s wishing for another ghoul or two.
“I’ve been home all—shit.” I push a strand of hair back, and it gets stuck in a splatter of ghoul blood on my neck. “I went into town to investigate the murder weapon.”
“Did you have a bag or anything with you someone could have slipped something in?”
“No. I left my purse in the car.”
“The car,” we all say at the same time. We run over, and the feeling of having all my energy drained increases. Rays of sunlight start to stream down on us, reflecting off the tinted windows of my Charger. We’re skating on thin ice. The guys need to go back up onto the roof soon.
The three of us look the car over, and Hasan finds something shoved behind the license plate.
“Hex bag,” he says, dumping out the contents of a little black bag into his hand. Jacques looks it over and nods.
“Someone tagged you. And this…” He picks up what looks like a chicken bone covered in little scratches. “This binds magical powers.” He snaps the bone in half, and suddenly I don’t feel like I’m going to collapse.
“Whoever put this here knows exactly who you are,” he says, and his words bring a chill through me. “The sun is almost up. We have to go, Ace, but be careful until sunset. I believe you are in danger.”
“Great.” I press my lips together in a wry smile. “And I’ll be careful. I’m a cop, guys; for years, I’ve always had at least one person gunning for my death. I can handle myself.”
Hasan stiffens. It’s not that he doesn’t believe me, it’s that he worries, and caring for someone enough to worry is a fairly new concept to him. I’m sure if he had his way, he’d play bodyguard twenty-four seven and protect me from anything remotely unpleasant.
“These aren’t your run-of-the-mill humans,” Jacques points out as if I don’t know. “Controlling this many ghouls means the sender is powerful.”
I look out at the yard, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do with the bodies. “If they’re so powerful, why not come after me themselves?”
Jacques shakes his head, not sure. “Maybe they wanted to test you. Or have you killed while keeping their hands clean.”
“So you think it could be a human and not a demon?”
“Many demons live as if they are human. They’re able to sink their claws into more people if they can blend.”
“Demons are just lovely,” I say, shaking my head and looking at the skyline. They came at the perfect time too…almost as if whoever sent them knew once the sun rose I’d be screwed. My magic was blocked, and my line of defense will be turned into stone in less than five minutes.
Were they expecting the fight to last longer? If they want to kill me, they’re gonna have to try harder than that, and I have a feeling they will. We walk back to the porch, knowing our time is coming to an end.
Thomas and Gilbert come out of the house, shutting the front door behind them. It’s a moot point since my living room window is smashed in. I’m tired. Bleeding. There are ghoul bodies all over my house and yard. And now I need to board up that fucking window before going to work.
“We didn’t see anything in the house,” Thomas says. “I’d look longer but…”
“Go,” I tell them, and hold up the iron fire poker. “If any are left, I got this.”
“You’re badass, Ace,” Gilbert says with a smile, but it quickly fades. “I hate leaving you.”
“You’re not really going anywhere,” I shoot back, not wanting to think about it. They’re here. Within arm’s reach. But they can’t do a damn thing if I’m in danger. It’s so frustrating and so fucking unfair. I need to break this curse.
“Be careful,” Hasan tells me, and takes to the sky, landing on the roof. Thomas and Gilbert go to their spots on the front porch, and I walk around the front of the house with Jacques, hoping to get one or two more questions about ghouls answered before he turns to stone.
I set the fire poker down and bend one foot up to brush gravel from the bottom. Jacques keeps walking, needing to get to his spot before the sun rises. Suddenly, he stops and whirls around, his movements slowed by the sun.
I turn, going for the fire poker, but it’s too late. A ghoul runs along the roof of the porch, holding a sharp and bloodied spear. It’s bigger than the others, and its eyes glow bright amber instead of red.
It lets out a screech, and the so
und reverberates through me, making my vision blur. I know I have to move, but the dizziness hits hard and I stumble, falling back and whacking my head against the cobblestone. Pain shoots through me, shocking me and rendering me paralyzed for a few seconds.
My mouth opens and my hands slip as I try to move out of the way. Jacques throws himself in front of me, pulling his wings over his body to try and act as a shield. The spear slashes through Jacques’s wings and hits him hard in the chest. He rolls off me, landing hard on his back. The ghoul jumps down, landing just yards from us.
“Jac!” I scream, scrambling to my feet. The ghoul hisses, fangs showing and amber eyes glowing in the early morning twilight. It bends down and sinks its teeth into Jacques’s arm.
“Get away from him!” I scream, and heat rushes through me, erupting from my heart. Flames ignite from my fingers, and my entire hands are swallowed by red-hot fire. I throw my hand forward, and the flames grow. The heat is so intense it almost hurts.
Good.
My feet leave the ground and I tackle the ghoul, wrapping my hands around its throat. I scream out of anger and fear, and the ghoul slashes its claws at me, scratching my cheek.
The ghoul catches fire and I let go, tripping over my own feet in my desperate attempt to get to Jac. He’s trying to get up, with one hand pinned to his body and the other trying to pull the spear out.
“Ace,” he grunts, and his movements slow. The sun is almost up, and his skin is taking on a gray pallor. I clench my fists and put out the flames.
“No, no, no,” I cry, and put one hand on his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You’re okay,” he says, and stops struggling. “That’s all that matters.”
“Don’t talk like that.” I grit my teeth and grab the spear with both hands. “This might hurt.”
Jacques turns away, bracing himself. I yank the spear free, and he falls to the ground. Blood spills out around him, staining the cobblestone beneath us. I drop to my knees, tears filling my eyes, and slip one hand under his head. He’s turning to stone right before my eyes, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the bleeding.
“I don’t know what to do,” I cry, and my tears splash down onto his chest.
Jacques’s eyes flutter closed, and he becomes completely still.
“Jac!” I bend down, burying my head against his neck. The heat is leaving his body just as fast as the blood. I can’t lose him. My heart can’t handle the death of another loved one. “Jac!”
He suddenly jerks away and tries to sit up.
“You shouldn’t move,” I tell him, hands shaking. “Let me get a towel or something. I’ll stop the bleeding.” I move to stand but he grabs my wrist.
“There’s no time, Ace,” he says slowly, and pushes himself up. “I need to go.”
I get to my feet and take his hand, hefting him to his feet. Unsteadily, he shuffles forward and spreads his beautiful wings, holding out a hand to keep me at bay. His eyes meet mine.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Bits of stone crumble off his wings as he takes flight, landing on the roof without a moment to spare. He becomes a gargoyle again, trapped under the sun. I’m shaking, hands slick from Jacques’s blood.
“Jac?” I call one last time, not expecting him to respond. My legs feel weak, but I take a few steps back so I can look up at him. He’s in his usual pose, but this time, there’s a big crack in the stone on his chest.
15
Sunlight reflects off the blood pooled on the cobblestone. A smoldering pile of ash is next to it, smelling like I burned a week’s worth of garbage. Blinking back tears, I move away from the house and look at the carnage left in the front yard.
What the hell am I supposed to do with the bodies?
I bring a trembling hand up, pushing my hair out of my face, and fight the fear that threatens to plague me. Someone knows who I am. They knew where I was last night. Have they been watching me?
“Are you watching now?” I ask through gritted teeth. Anger surges through me and flames start to flicker around my fingertips again. I hope they are watching. Then I can catch them and end them.
Too angry to put out the flames, I go to the pile of ghouls Hasan left and bring my hand down, lighting them on fire. They ignite, and the magic in the flames causes them to turn to ash just like the others. Refusing to let myself think about Jacques, I hurry around the yard and drag the ghouls into the same pile, turning them all into ash.
Once the ghoul bodies are burned, I feebly walk to the house, stopping next to Thomas and Gilbert. They’re standing strong, posed like usual with nothing out of the ordinary. I rest my hand on Thomas’s wing, closing my eyes and wishing I could talk to them, figure out a way to keep them with me during the day.
Still barefoot, and now painfully aware of the uneven ground underfoot, I hastily walk around the house to look up at Hasan. I saw him take off but didn’t see him land. I need to know he’s okay. From what I can tell, he is.
But Jacques isn’t.
Are his injuries paused, and will they pick up right where we left off? Will he weaken as the day goes on? I love all my guys, and the thought of losing even one of them terrifies me.
They are my family. I don’t want to lose another family. I can’t. I hardly survived it the first time.
I break through spiderwebs as I hook up the hose, dragging it around front to wash away the blood. Everything I do is methodical, and it’s almost like I’m covering up a crime scene. I guess I am, in a sense, though I’m not the guilty party.
Going into the house, I realize there is no way I’m going to get things cleaned up in time for work. I haven’t called off in three years, and when I did I was so sick with the H1N1 virus I was hospitalized for two days.
I call in, saying I got food poisoning, and don’t feel bad about lying.
Setting my phone down on the kitchen counter, I grab a broom and dustpan, and a cardboard box from the basement. I line it with a garbage bag and start cleaning the glass from the broken window.
“This looks original,” I grumble, noting the thick broken sheets. “Fuck you, whoever sent them and bound my powers. Fuck. You.”
I grab the last of the big pieces and get the broom next, sweeping little shards into a pile. I’m going to have to go over this with the vacuum a few times before I’m sure the glass is actually gone.
A car turns into the driveway, and my heart jumps out of my chest. I drop the broom and race into the two-story living room to get my gun from the couch. I don’t have many rounds left, but I rarely miss a target.
I just hope this one can die.
But it’s not someone coming to hunt me down and kill me, at least I don’t think so. It’s Richard from down the street, and he keeps his car running as he apprehensively gets out, eyeballing the broken front window.
“Shit.” Keeping my gun in one hand, I rush into the kitchen and grab a sweater, slipping it over my arms and pulling it tight around my neck to hide the blood and scratches.
“Hello?” Richard calls, stopping on the cobblestone. The blood has been washed away, but the ashes are still there. “Detective Bisset?”
I open the front door, gun in my hand, and step onto the porch. Richard looks me over, and his eyes widen. Oh, right. I have claw marks on my face.
“Are you okay?” he rushes out. “I’m on my way to work and saw smoke.” He looks away from me to the large pile of smoldering ghouls. They don’t look like anything more than a heap of rotting garbage at this point.
Which is exactly what they are.
He looks back at the broken window, and I know I can’t say things are peachy and send him on his way.
“It’s taken care of,” I say instead, and keep my arms close to my body. I’m not going to offer an explanation, and I don’t think he’s going to ask. “Thanks for, uh, being a good neighbor.”
He nods and points to the broken window. “Speaking of being a good neighbor, do you need help with that?”
; Dammit. I do. Because I don’t know how to fix it, and I need it boarded up so I can leave the house.
“You teach history, right?” I ask, remembering him saying his area of expertise happens to be the same time period this house was built.
“I do.”
“Do you know of any places that work with historical homes? I think the glass was original and I’d like to replace it with something close if possible.”
“Yeah, I know a guy who restores anything from early American history. I can give him a call.”
“Thanks.” I bite my lip, fully aware of how fucking awkward this is. I thought moving out into a rural part of town would mean not having to deal with neighbors, yet here I am.
“It might be a while before he can come out, and even longer until he can get new glass ordered. I have some leftover plywood from a project I started last summer. I can bring it over so you can board up the broken pane in the meantime.”
“That would be great. Thanks, Richard.”
“Jared has vocational today and doesn’t have to be in until noon. I’m going to send him over. The kid is handy, and it’s the least we can do,” he adds before I can protest. Right. I almost forgot I could have had Jared arrested. No wonder Richard is going above and beyond to be a helpful neighbor.
I appreciate the help, really I do, but right now I don’t need anyone else at the house, especially Jared. Unfortunately, I do need the window boarded up so I can leave. And it’s more than just that right now. I’m someone’s target, and they went to great lengths to try and take me down.
Being around me is dangerous.
After cleaning up the mess in the living room and my bedroom, I take the world’s fastest shower before Jared gets here. I was already covered in blood and got more on me when I scrubbed the floors clean. Richard expected him to move slowly since it’s early and today is Friday, meaning he lacks motivation, but I have a feeling once Jared knows he gets to come inside the house, he’ll spring out of bed.
Toweling off my hair, I’m careful not to rub over my new scabs, then walk out of the bathroom into the bedroom. I mopped my floor clean, but my sheets are twisted and on the floor, and when I look at my bed, I remember waking up with the ghoul on top of me. How did it get in? Were the others sent as a distraction?
