by N. R. Larry
Marlowe flashed in front of me. He was wrapped up like a stone mummy, his eyes rolling into his head. My chest tightened, and I dug my nails into Conway’s arm, trying to find air.
“We,” I wheezed. “Have.” I bent over and coughed up foam. “Go. Now.” Trembling, I forced myself to stand, and it was like my limbs had turned to stone. I snapped. A golden light flashed, and the vision fizzled away. My trunk rattled on the top of the counter, and a smooth, golden rod zipped across the room. I ripped it out of the air and leaned into Conway.
“It’s Lowe and Jett. They’re in trouble.”
I had to push it back. The empathy. I wasn’t psychic, but because they were my familiars, I was connected to them. I shoved down a ball of fear, and pain, and then slowly, rage rushed through my blood. Magic sparked through my blood, and lit the world around me up a magnetic, greenish-blue. I almost floated out of the front door with Conway at my back.
It was like I was at home, descending from my platform, working magic for my people.
The night air was heavy with moisture. I breathed in vapor. Heat pressed against my skin, and a fog cloaked the night sky, hiding stars and the waning moon. As I trudged down to the beach, the former storm lingered in the air, and waves whispered against the shoreline. I lowered myself and dragged my golden rod through the water.
“Can you feel them now? I asked Conway without turning around.
He didn’t answer right away. I stood and faced him. The wind blew his hair all around his face. His eyes were closed. Finally, he nodded. “They are afraid…” he said, using his ability to feel other people’s emotions. We were all connected to each other. “We need to hurry.”
Water splashed against the back of my ankles and I nodded. I lowered my rod and traced a trident inside of a circle into the damp sand. When the glyph was complete, I tapped it at the eastern corner, and muttered an incantation.
The wind picked up. My hair rushed into my face. I raised my arms in the air and the waves rolled and came to meet me. Reaching out, I grabbed Conway’s arm and pulled him close. The water roared toward us and I stared it down. It paused, and then formed itself into a tunnel that weaved between our bodies. Soon, we stood in the middle of a cyclone. Water rushed in my ears, and I pictured where I wanted to be, and spoke the location to the sea.
There was a low hum. Water pressed against us, and then lifted us up, and away from the beach. For a few moments, there was only clear blue and the metallic smell of salt. There was a flash of green before the water calmed and lowered us into a dark clearing closed in on both sides by bare trees with security cameras attached to their branches.
With a wave of my hand, I sent the water through the middle of the lane, sending weeds and bits of gravel everywhere.
“He must have seen them coming,” Conway muttered.
I turned my attention to him. His gaze was on the cameras. He’d noticed them too. I squinted at the small, light green house in front of me and started forward. “Well, it won’t matter if he sees me coming.” I slammed my rod into the earth. A high-pitched tinkle pierced the air, and the top of the rod began to vibrate.
Three prongs shot out, and I gripped my trident in my hands. Without another word, I surfed toward the house on a small stream, and then planted my bare feet on the front porch. I knocked on the door with the killing end of my weapon.
“Be on your guard,” Conway said, an edge in his voice. “If he set up security cameras, he likely has the place rigged. Explosives would be my guess.”
I scanned the porch before knocking on the door again. Bright, white light flashed through the dusty windows. Then, there was the pounding of feet. Narrowing my eyes, I backed away. There was a low crackle, and I scanned my gaze up, toward the noise. I homed in on a loud speaker bolted into the corner.
“Did you bring pearls?” a low, unfamiliar voice buzzed through the speaker.
The sound of water swooshed across the rotten wood, trickling down through the cracks and washing over my toes. I shot Conway a look, a gesture he returned with a shrug. There was a bang, followed by a muffled wail of pain. I inched forward, my trident in front of me in a defensive pose.
“If you didn’t bring pearls, then back off my porch.” There was another crackle. “This is your only warning. I will kill your people.”
I smiled and lowered the prongs of my weapon to the ground. “In Atlantis, it’s customary to give three warnings, but we’re on your territory. So, I’ll allow you to name the game.” I twirled my trident through the puddle that had gathered on the stranger’s porch. It lit up, bean green over blue, and swirled in time with my movements. “Let them go. Or I will bring everything you own to the ground.”
A long beat of silence followed my words. The quiet stretched out, until it seemed like I was standing there much longer than I was. In the distance, the water whispered against rocks.
The loud horn snapped off. I took it as a refusal. Gripping the trident tighter, I slammed it down, and the water at my feet sprayed into the air, gathering in volume and fury.
Narrowing my eyes, I thrust my weapon forward. A monstrous wave crashed into the house, tearing through the door, and making the wood moan before it tumbled to the earth. Through the blue, I spotted an unfamiliar figure, and sealed him inside an airtight bubble, binding him at the legs and feet.
Conway swept forward, and crushed the stone trap that Marlowe was encased in. I pointed my trident toward Jett, called upon a blast of water, and it shot forward like lightning, splitting the gray rock into two. Two slabs crashed into the ground, and my Adaro stepped forward, bowed his head in my direction, and then homed his murderous gaze onto the stranger.
I stepped slowly through the wreckage, until I was scant inches away from him. Anger clenched the muscles in my jaw, and I slid the end of my trident against the outside of the bubble he was slowly drowning in.
“This won’t do,” I muttered, snapping a finger. The water froze, and then crashed to the ground, sweeping bits of his house away, and down the lane. Rushing forward, I clamped a hand around his neck and pulled him toward me. “I’ve never taken a life without knowing a name.” I smiled as I peered into his strange, violet eye. “For that reason, I will require yours.”
He gasped, and thrashed around in my grip, but I held strong. Slowly, I loosened my hold so that he could breathe.
“I’ve never been one to ask a question more than once.” I gritted my teeth. “Your name.”
Water dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. He huffed. “P-Priestess Zarya of Atlantis. I-I was warned about you.”
I stared at him. “Warned about me? By who?”
A shadow crossed over his face, and when the soft light from the moon hit his rough features, a scowl twisted them into a hateful mask. He sucked in a raspy breath. “You k-kill me, and he’ll come for you.”
“Who will come for her?” Jett asked in a low growl from somewhere behind me.
“The king,” he said with slow smirk. “He will not let you rule us. If I disappear, he’ll know. He’ll know where you are, and he’ll come for you.”
Behind me, one of them scoffed. Tilting my head to the side, I let him go. He froze, and his shoulders slumped forward.
“What is your name?” I asked again, this time, in a calm voice.
“Orson,” he answered, his eyes flashing with hate. “I’m the man who’s going to kill you. I’m going to humiliate you. I’m going to make you regret the day you killed my mother.”
13
Conway
I thought she was going to kill him, or at least, let Jett loose on him. But, she must have felt what I felt. The truth. Whoever this human was, he was telling the truth. A thousand more questions raced through me, but they would wait for later. As Zarya prepared the water for a teleport back to the house, Marlowe held up his hand, stopping her. He rushed into the pile of destruction, retrieved a piece of whatever he and Jett had been trapped in, and then nodded at Zarya. With a wave of her hand, the water c
overed us, and we were back on the beach where we started.
Zarya whipped her trident through the air and it folded into a rod once again. Turning to Marlowe, she asked, “What the hell happened?”
Jett dropped Orson, who he’d had by the neck, onto the beach like he was a bag of garbage. “What did he mean, you killed his mother?”
Her eyes narrowed. She gave him a hard stare. “I’m certain I don’t know.”
I stepped closer to them. “How is it that a human got the drop on you two?” I pierced Marlowe with my gaze. “I mean, you, maybe, but you?” I turned to look at Jett. “I’ve seen you rip immortal things apart with your teeth.”
Jett smiled and inched closer to me. “Speaking of teeth, I’m hungry for a little siren.” He lowered his head, if I had to guess, to better stare into my eyes.
I smiled, remembering how afraid of him I used to be, and how, since we’d been trapped on the surface, I’d measured my manhood against his. Not anymore. My power rushed through me, and I took hold of his shame. His eyes glazed over, and then his teeth clenched. “You’re not angry, are you monster?” I tilted my head and pushed my way into his thoughts. “You feel small. Smaller than this human,” I taunted, gesturing to Orson. “Smaller than you’ve felt in a while.”
There was a low hiss, and Zarya stepped forward, slapping me hard across the face. My power shot back into me, and Jett lunged forward. She pressed a hand against his chest, and pushed him back, but her angry gaze was homed in on me.
“That’s enough,” she said between her teeth.
I pressed my lips together, and after a few beats of silence, nodded. She stepped away and looked at each of us in turn. “You are not little boys.”
Marlowe sighed, his gaze trained on the house. “He had some sort of magic. And he’s strong. Stronger than a human should be.” Turning around, he clicked his tongue and peered at Zarya. “He’s obviously more than I knew he was going in. He has some kind of tie to Atlantis.”
Something that sounded like a growl came out of Jett’s throat. “He’s a nut bag. I don’t know why you’re keeping him alive.”
Her lips parted to give a reply, but a scream, high-pitched and jarring, came from the house. I squinted into the distance. Sophie. She had a hand pressed to her chest and was running with the urgency of someone being chased.
She stumbled, righted herself, and then almost crashed into Zarya, who grabbed her at the elbows, keeping her at arms-length.
“Sophie,” she said in an even voice. “What is it?”
She huffed. “There was—” Pulling herself from Zarya’s grasp, she gestured at the house. “I was asleep, and then—downstairs…” Her words faded into a series of gasps and tearful pants. She waved her arms up and down and shook her head.
Without saying anything, I placed a hand on her forehead and pushed calm energy into her. “Calm yourself, Sophie.” She went still under my touch and blinked up at me. Slowly, she nodded and backed away.
“There’s something in the house,” she said to Zarya. “Something you need to see.”
Zarya snapped her fingers at Jett, and then pointed at Orson. “Bring him inside.” Her eyes narrowed. “And when I wake him to question him, I want all of his pieces in place.”
He picked the man up and flung him over his shoulder. “Whatever you say, priestess.”
A tense silence wrapped around us as we trudged back to the house. Emotions flooded me, and one by one, I batted them back: the fear, the frustration, and more than anything, the distrust. I pressed my lips into a thin line. Shaken up, by all things, a human. One by one, we piled through the front door.
Zarya, who had her arm around Sophie the entire time, rubbed her shoulder. “What do we need to see?”
Despite the magic I’d worked on her, a slight tremble rocked through her. She pointed. “The kitchen,” she whispered. “It’s in the kitchen.”
As if their movements were practiced, they moved together. I started with them, when a flood of rage pounded inside my skull. Red slashed into my vison, and I paused, grabbing the nearest wall for support. The anger was so raw that I couldn’t wrap any control around it. It pounded in my temples. The wall vibrated beneath my hand and the floor quaked at my feet. Everything began to tilt.
“Get out,” I grunted, blinking hard, trying to make out my surroundings. “Get out of my head.” I pushed against the fury. A low growl rattled the inside of my skull. From the living room, there was a piercing wail that made my eyes water. I stumbled forward, pausing at the edge of the room.
Everyone was frozen. I felt their shock and horror as strongly as I felt the fury trying to rip its way back into me. In the middle of the room stood a pulsing, green figure. Loose, bone-white skin clung to her in slabs. She hunched over to one side, and pea-green light burned in her face where eyes should be. I swallowed, and inched forward, trying to ignore the throbbing at the back of my eyes.
Her skin was obviously fake. It took me far too long to realize it was the result of magic. Somehow, Dottie’s ghost had escaped her magic container and put on the skin Zarya and I had conjured. Her hand shot out, wrapped about Zarya’s neck, and forced her to her knees.
“You,” she wailed in a voice that pieced the air at varying volumes. It was as if more than one voice came out of her. “You!”
Zarya hacked and Jett was the first to rush forward, dropping Orson onto the floor with a thud as he did so. Dottie’s head jerked up, and bits of her skin plopped to the floor. She stared down at Orson, released her hold on Zarya, and backed up.
“N-no,” she wailed in that ear numbing tone. “You’ve killed him too.” Green light blazed in her eyes, and the rage I felt earlier spiked. It wrapped around me and seemed to take hold of the room.
For a moment, it froze me. I gritted my teeth and forced my feet forward. If I didn’t do something, and quick, something bad was going to happen. The energy was thick. As I moved through it, it seemed to cling to me, slowing my movement. I bit down on my tongue until I tasted my own blood. My hands shook, but I managed to force my way inside the circle of bodies.
“Stop,” I grunted, my energy homed in on Dottie.
She threw her head back and let out a scream more chilling than a siren’s wail. Every single one of them—Marlowe, Sophie, even Jett—cried out and crashed to the floor. Zarya was still on her knees in front of her. I curled my hands into fists and continued forward. Sucking in a deep breath, I called up my power, and forced it outward.
It slashed through Dottie’s rage and latched around her neck. Her scream cut off, and she held her head up straight, to glare at me. Through our connection, I felt her rage, and even more surely, I felt her grief.
Tilting my head, I said, “I’m confused, Dottie. Why do you mourn?”
Her head thrashed. Sparks of energy shot off in every direction. I tightened my hold on her neck, funneling the same energy I’d used moments ago to calm Sophie. Slowly, she stopped blinking in and out of focus. Then, she dropped to her knees. The rage seeped out of her, and there was grief—wide empty pain that shook me in a way I wasn’t used to. My eyes welled in tears.
I clenched my jaw and shook my head to push back her emotions. “Tell me,” I whispered, bearing down on her so she knew who was in control. “Tell me the source of your grief.”
She gasped, and the air was sucked out of the room. Lights flickered on and off. Everyone groaned, and muttered things I couldn’t make out. I was too focused on Dottie.
“My s-son,” she said in a two-tonal voice. She hissed. In the corner, a light bulb shattered, followed by the four that were screwed into the ceiling fan. Translucent pieces of glass sprayed everywhere. “The sea-witch. S-she took me from him.” She bared jagged rays of light as if they were teeth. “Why is he here?” The question howled in my ears like a broken wind.
I froze, and my hold on her stuttered. My body shook with the effort of trying to keep her contained. Zarya stood, a dazed look on her face. She trudged toward me and clapped her
hands. When she pulled them apart, a magic container floated in the air. She nodded toward it.
The ghost wailed. The sound ripped through my skull and my control over her slipped.
“Kill,” Dottie shrieked, pumping rage into the room.
The house shook.
I forced the rage back into her and squinted at Zarya. Her body trembled, and she nodded at me. I screwed my lips up and whistled, calling to Dottie, making her mine. It wasn’t something I’d ever done—claimed something that was dead, but Dottie shuddered as my song entered her. The fury zapped out of the room.
Zarya stepped forward, waved her hand across Dottie’s face, and the ghost funneled herself into the magic box. Breathing hard, she shut the container and scanned her gaze across the room.
“Is everyone all right?”
Silence was all anyone could give her. After several moments, I cracked my knuckles, breaking the silence. Leveling her with my gaze, I said, “We need to talk.” Without waiting for her to reply, I shoved a current of power over the room, silencing everyone in it, except me and her. “Upstairs. Now.”
Alone in the bedroom, anger practically spilled out of her. She paced the room for a few seconds, and then turned on me, her eyes flashing with danger.
“How dare you?” The question came out as a snarl. Her hair floated around her face in a slow, deliberate way, and it was almost as if it was angry too. “You don’t use your power on Jett, and you sure as hell don’t summon me.” She planted her feet and bared her teeth. “Have you forgotten who I am? Or that you serve me?”
I stared at her for several moments. Silence stretched between us. Thoughts shot around in my skull. I tried to make sense of everything Dottie said, but couldn’t.
“Conway,” she hissed into the quiet. “You will answer me.”
I scoffed and the cool I usually carried myself with turned into a hot flame. “Maybe it’s you that’s forgotten who I am,” I said with the hint of a growl in my voice.
