Some Kind of Monster

by Albany Walker

  “What about that? Can you just end him if you see him or something?” I turn my attention to Grim.

  “I would need to touch him, and since we know he has the ability to bind our powers, I’m not sure if I should.”

  “So that leaves me.” I shrug, totally okay with ripping the guy’s soul from his body. I don’t need to touch him, hell, I don’t even need to get that close to do it.

  “It’s not going to be that easy,” Calix warns. “I’m sure this guy will have the place warded, maybe even have wards that could stop you from feeding off of him. If he’s smart enough to figure out how to syphon Charmed magic without the backlash, I’m sure he’s got some shit up his sleeve we won’t see coming.”

  I rub my tummy again when the baby gives me a few well-placed jabs. I know, I’m tired too, baby girl. A heavy feeling settles low in my stomach, almost like a cramp. Great, now is not the time for a poop break. I glare over at Gunnar. No one takes more joy from the fact that I have to shit now because I eat more than he does. Somehow, I feel like he fucking jinxed me when he suggested I needed to shit out the souls I was hoarding when we were back in Savannah. Talk about taking something for granted. If I never poop again after this baby is born, I will be a happy bitch.

  He looks around when I scowl at him, wondering what he did. Thankfully, the feeling passes within a minute or so.

  “You’re saying if we can get that on him, we can hold him in place and just kill him the old-fashioned way?” I question.

  “Yup,” Gunnar snarls. “I can’t fucking wait.”

  “How do we get him to stay put long enough to make that happen? If he has the place warded, I’m sure he’ll know when we breach them.”

  “It would be easier if I could travel, but we’re going to have to rely on Death for that.” Gunnar grumbles, his lips set in a hard line.

  “We need you to figure out where the wards are so we don’t tip him off that we’re there. Then tall and creepy blinks in, getting close enough to plant that” —he points at Gunnar, meaning the amulet he’s now holding— “and trap him so he can’t escape while we break the wards he has in place, and then we cut the fucker’s head off.” Calix makes it sound so simple.

  “Wouldn’t Grim just be able to blink in and cut his head off all at once? Why will we need to break the wards?”

  “We have to assume he has the place set up like the house he trapped Aeson in.” Gunnar crosses his arms.

  “So, if Grim goes in, he’ll be in a trap too?” I’m definitely not liking this.

  “Maybe not,” Grim offers, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “What if we can’t get through the wards?”

  “The Savannah witch told me how to break a ward, and he gave me this.” Grim holds up a thin piece of white chalk, the kind teachers used to use to write on a blackboard.

  “A stick of chalk?” I can’t hide the disbelief in my voice.

  Gunnar walks over and inspects the stick in Grim’s hand. “It’s not just regular chalk, witches make it with spelled materials,” he informs me, then adds, “That should work.” I note the appreciation in his tone as he nods at Grim. “Wards are complex, but the foundation is simple. One line out of place, or in this case a broken circle, and we can disrupt the magic.”

  “Why the hell didn’t we just break the circle Aeson was trapped in then?” I throw my hands in the air, wondering why my bestie had to die and be brought back if it’s really that simple.

  “First, the Brownie was already trapped. We’re going to break the circles before they’re activated. Second, we didn’t have the tools.” Gunnar points to the chalk Grim is still holding. “Lastly, you were in the house alone, and we didn’t know what else was waiting for you. Sometimes brute force is the way to go.”

  “Whatever, as long as it ends with him dead, that’s all that matters to me.” I’m fully willing to admit they understand way more about the supernatural world than I do.

  “That is the plan,” Gunnar mutters.

  “What’s the plan?” Calix asks.

  “Killing Antonio,” I reply, and look him over. He’s fresh from the shower and looking oh so yummy. A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. He knows exactly what I’m thinking, not that I was trying to hide it.

  “Are we ready then?” Gunnar questions.

  I force myself to look away from my sexy man beast and let out a little sigh. I would much rather be under or over Calix than making a twenty-minute car ride back to my adolescent home away from home. “Ready, Freddy.”

  “Who’s Freddy?” Grim frowns. I just smile and shake my head.

  The ride back to the school is tense. We’re all aware there’s a chance we’re finally going to get rid of this asshole once and for all, but the thought of how many times he’s evaded us without us even catching a glimpse of him puts a damper on the excitement. Plus, I’m still feeling sore and achy, even after a long soak in the tub.

  Gunnar pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. We’re still a good five miles from the school. I hope he’s not expecting me to walk that far. “I checked Google Maps. There’s a place not too far up the road where he could be holed up. If he’s not here, there’s one other place, but it’s more of an outbuilding. I can’t see anyone living in it long-term, unless it’s been heavily renovated since the last time the satellite photos were updated.”

  “I don’t get why he would even stick around here. It doesn’t make sense.” I climb out of the back seat.

  “Why does it need to make sense? You think someone who kills to get a magical high is rational?” Gunnar reasons.

  “When you put it like that, I guess not,” I concede, and stretch out my back. “But don’t you think it’s strange he had a place near my parents’ house and now he’s hanging around here?”

  “He’s probably chasing your power,” Calix says bluntly. “Vanessa said he was coming after you.”

  “I just figured that was more of her shit-talking.”

  “Think about it. This guy kills for power. He would have felt you the moment he got within a hundred miles of Washington,” Gunnar adds.

  “Damiana, you and I will be able to sense the magic before the others. We will lead.” Grim doesn’t even comment on the conversation we’re in the middle of, just makes it clear he doesn’t care about Antonio’s motives, only when we can end him.

  “No, that’s bullshit. We can’t risk her stepping into a snare.” Gunnar’s face is flushed red. If I didn’t know he couldn’t access his Berserker, I would say he was only a second away from hulking out.

  “She has the most experience with his wards, including breaking them,” Grim replies, sounding completely reasonable.

  Gunnar is already shaking his head. “No, no way. It’s fucked up that you’re even suggesting it.”

  That gets my back up. “I’m going to pretend like you aren’t being a sexist asshole right now, and that your utter love and devotion to me is making you a little loopy.” Gunnar opens his mouth, but I lift up my hand to stop him. “Grim is right, and you know it, Kitten. I’m not the damsel in distress—never have been. I thought you liked that about me.”

  “I would love you either way, so don’t pull that shit with me. And don’t be fucking mad that I’m worried. This guy is an unknown. Look at what he did to me, and he wasn’t even fucking there. I don’t want to risk you.” Gunnar keeps his voice low, but the fervor in his tone tells me how important this is to him.

  I step closer to him. I can see the wild intensity in his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, because you’re here with me. You, Calix, and Grim will make sure I’m okay. I’m not going in alone. We’re just going first because it makes the most sense,” I reason with him.

  “Death, you better fucking know what you’re doing,” Gunnar snaps, looking over my head.

  “Things would be much easier if I just ended everyone.” Grim sounds a little cold and detached.

  “Oh, don’t start that shit again. I need someone around to deli
ver this baby, and what would I eat?”

  “We won’t have to worry about stealth if you guys don’t shut up. We’re standing on the side of the road arguing.” Calix looks over all of us like we’re wayward children. A smile lifts my lips when I think about calling him Daddy.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, not right now,” he admonishes me. I drop the grin in exchange for a glower. “Death and Dami lead, we bring up the rear.” Calix gestures to Gunnar, who is scowling so heavily, it’s a wonder his face doesn’t freeze like that.

  Grim starts walking into the tree line, his steps slow and measured. I begin to do a half jog to catch up, but my baby bump bounces uncomfortably, so I just power walk. I think back to the night we snuck into the witch’s house, what the wards near the doors and windows felt like, to see if I can feel anything similar around me.

  We walk several hundred feet before something brushes against my senses that doesn’t feel quite right. I stop dead in my tracks and raise my arm out to bar Grim from moving, too. “Wait,” I whisper, even though I feel like we’re alone.

  “What is it?” Gunnar whispers back.

  “I’m not sure, give me a second.” The feeling is pretty much the opposite of what I expected. The traps that held Aeson and me in place—even the first ward I encountered at Vanessa’s club—felt thick, like I needed to physically push through them; this almost feels like it’s beckoning me to come closer. Like everything I ever wanted is about twenty feet ahead of us.

  I don’t trust the feeling. “There’s something, but it’s…” Before I can finish, movement ahead of us distracts me. “What the fresh hell was that?” I blink several times, because my brain is telling me what I think I saw couldn’t be right.

  Someone grabs me by the shoulder and drags me backward. I know it’s either Calix or Gunnar, so I don’t take my eyes off the ghoulish sight in front of me.

  “Is that…” Calix mumbles without finishing.

  “Looks like we found the place,” I conclude, watching the forms in front of me wither as if they’re decaying at a rapid rate, but it somehow doesn’t stop them from slowly milling about like some sick imitation of a guard dog.

  “They’re soulless,” Grim comments, though he looks almost as baffled as I feel.

  “What the fuck is he playing at?” Gunnar hisses.

  The thing moving on the ground just a few feet away snags my attention. Its back half is mostly a greenish glob of goo, and every time its hands pull it forward, a little more gets left behind in its wake. “Was that a fucking mermaid?”

  I lift my gaze when my brain refuses to make sense of what I’m seeing. Reaching out with my senses, I taste the beings, but just as Grim said, they’re empty vessels. There’s nothing I can do to stop them from coming forward. I’m guessing Grim’s ability to kill them would be useless as well.

  “Anybody have any ideas on how to deal with a bunch of zombie monsters?” I ask. Gunnar wraps his hand over mine and opens my fingers, placing a knife in my palm. I look down at the blade, it’s nearly a foot long. Where the hell did he have this thing stowed?

  “If they get past us, take off the head or rip out the spinal cord,” he says simply. When I look to the left, Calix has already transformed into the Nemean, his golden fur casting an eerie glow over the grotesque scene before me.

  “This is a distraction,” Grim snarls.

  “Well, it’s effective,” I mutter.

  Gunnar pushes to the front of the group, a knife in each hand. I watch his profile as he opens his mouth and lets out a battle cry that sends a shiver down my spine. Berserker or not, he’s still a warrior. The beings surge forward as if triggered by his outburst, pushing past an invisible barrier that seemed to keep them at bay.

  Their movements are sluggish, but there are so many I can’t imagine how we’ll be able to cut through them before Antonio—the sick fucker—has a chance to get away.

  Calix bounds forward and grabs the mer-thing’s head, ripping it clean off its body. The gore dripping off his jaws is enough to make me want to retch, so I look away.

  Grim moves with the same elegance he always does, his sickle appearing in his hand as if it was always there, only unseen. With efficient movements, he tilts his arm sideways and cuts a swath through the endless mass of mindless monsters, leveling them with a single blow. A few who still have shoulders attached wiggle on the ground, as if they’re still trying to serve their purpose.

  The fight is strangely silent. The only noises are from Calix’s wide maw as he tears through the bodies and Gunnar’s low grunts of fury. “Watch for snares,” I caution the men, walking behind them as they clear a path.

  My black heart sings with the carnage being left in their wake. The destruction they can create could end worlds, and all because I asked it of them. A sick smile forms on my lips. Woe to the witch who thought to take what is mine.

  Grim takes out several more bodies with well-placed attacks high enough to remove numerous heads at once. Calix continues to bound through the pack, mauling as he goes, while Gunnar’s speed and efficiency with which he ends the things is awe-inspiring.

  There’s no place for pity here. These creatures are long since dead, and only animated by a witch that deserves the same hell he’s brought to so many.

  The rage inside me builds. It’s different from the potent feeling I’ve taken from so many others. It’s mine, it’s raw, and yet it still fuels me. A veil of darkness falls over my vision as I scan the horde. I see a fine mist of purple trailing off each body as if they’re being controlled by a puppet string. Without a doubt that it would be possible, I flick my hand and sever each thread connected to the soulless bodies.

  The power snaps back deeper into the woods, leveling the area with a sonic-like boom that tosses the guys all backwards several feet. I alone am left standing amid a sea of decaying corpses. Just as the purple thread of power appeared, so does a transparent wall made from the same sickly purple mist where the ghouls were before they advanced toward us.

  I can see the arc of a circle as it cuts right through trees and rocks, but there isn’t just one. Several smaller circles are within the much larger one, forming rows of protection. Gunnar would have been very close to crossing over the first line had he cut through the group much farther.

  I don’t have to look to know the guys have recovered from the backlash of me breaking the spell and are all gathered around me. Calix has already shifted back into his human form and is pulling his dirt stained shirt over his head—please let that be dirt.

  “What the hell was that?” Gunnar growls and looks around, as if he’s waiting for the things to spring back to life.

  “This motherfucker just flipped my bitch switch. Grim, give me the chalk.” I throw out my palm, knowing I need it to disrupt the largest circle, assuming I’m the only one who can see it.

  My fingers tingle when he touches my hand to place the stick in my grasp. The fact that he just hands it over, no questions asked, fills me with another emotion—pride They trust me. They may want to keep me safe and protected, but when it boils down to it, they’re confident I can handle myself.

  “Time to hunt a witch!” I damn near purr with excitement.

  Chapter 27

  The spell grows stronger the closer I get. “We should hurry.” Gunnar steps up his pace, but I reach out and stop him when he would have gone past me. The urgency filling him isn’t his own. It’s the spell, fooling him to come closer, quicker, to pass the barrier without thought.

  “There’s no hurry, Kitten. He’s waiting for us.” As I speak the words, the truth of them rings clear. The zombies weren’t meant to stop us, only to alert him that we had arrived. He thinks he’s the spider calling the fly. He should have realized he’s invited a scorpion into his web instead.

  “Stay back,” I warn, when we reach the purple mist. I search the ground until I see a thin, barely exposed copper wire as it disappears right into the trunk of a tree, he used magic to set this circle. I examine the c
halk in my hand, wondering if we shouldn’t have brought bolt cutters instead.

  “What is it?” Gunnar crouches next to me.

  “This is what he’s using to hold the circle.” I point to the wire. “How is chalk going to disrupt this?”

  “Magic is all about intention,” Gunnar informs me. “We have the opportunity to break his intent before it takes hold. Your will, your intention, must be stronger.” He meets my stare.

  “What if I don’t believe in this crap? Can we just ignore it?” I unintentionally look down at his hand where the rune is still marring his skin.

  Gunnar shakes his head, his lips thinning. “No, he believes. That’s enough. Just like with Uncle and Bloody Mary, they’re here because enough people believed them into being.”

  “I still don’t see how this can help.” Frustration has me fisting the stick. Gunnar reaches for my hand and gently pries it open.

  “What do you want to do, Dami?” he asks with a patience he usually doesn’t possess.

  “I want to break this fucking circle, break all of them.”

  “Then do it.” He shrugs as if it’s that simple. When I open my mouth to argue, he lifts up one eyebrow in a challenging manner, and says, “Do it!”

  Shear frustration has me scoring the chalk over the wire with a quick snap of my wrist. There’s a slight hissing sound and a fissure forms in the wire, breaking the copper, and the haze of purple drops to the ground like a curtain falling before disappearing into the darkness.

  I look at the seemingly innocuous white stick in my hand and my mouth falls open. I can’t believe it worked. The intent was there in spades, but I never expected it to actually work.

  “You’re surprised? You just severed a magical connection with dozens of corpses without more than a thought, but this surprises you?” Grim squints at me.

  “But this is just chalk.” I examine the dust on my hand.