Bella Flores Urban Fantasy Collection

by R D Martin

  “Time to go,” he said, rushing over to her side.

  “How are we going to get out? He’s got us trapped in here.” She started breathing quicker and her heart pounded in her chest like a jackhammer.

  “I,” William tried to say, but stopped as someone on the other side of the door began pounding. Even with the entire weight of the complex holding the door closed, it still shifted under the massive beating it was being given. Another loud thud against the door and the snapping and popping of wood echoed throughout the room like a string of fireworks. It was a tossup between which would give up first, the stone frame or the wooden door.

  “The Edoeki. Use the Edoeki.”

  William plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out the short rod. Even in the orb’s light above, it gleamed like fresh polished silver.

  Bella watched as he turned it in his hands, passing it back and forth as if it were hot. The pounding on the door intensified. “Well? Are you going to use it?”

  “It’s just, I…” His voice trailed off in a mumble.

  “You what?” she asked, desperation causing her voice to lift an octave.

  “It’s just, well, I’ve never used it before and, uh, what if it doesn’t work?”

  Another thud on the door and a piece of wood the size of her forearm spun through the air between them.

  “We don’t have a choice,” she yelled. Snatching the polished rod from his hands, she concentrated on its smooth end. Summoning all the power she could, she poured it into the rod. The metal’s temperature dropped as though plunged into an ice bath. Frost began forming on it, spreading out in fractal patterns as it went. And though she could feel the cold, it was as if it came through a thick winter glove. The runes etched into the rod began shifting and moving around, undulating in a pattern she could neither recognize nor understand.

  Another jarring thud crashed into the door, and from the corner of her eye, she could see a large section of it giving way.

  The rod, under the stress of the cold, gave off a squeal that got louder and louder. As it rose in volume, the noise pounded in her head, beating at her mind like a champion boxer. It only took a moment before she could no longer stand it, and, releasing her grip on the rod, she clapped her fingers over her ears. The rod, rather than falling to the floor, hung in midair, rotating as if held aloft by a summer breeze. Tearing her gaze away from it, she looked at her companion, unsurprised to see him covering his ears.

  Another thud came from the door and, even muffled as it was, made her jump. There was now a hole in its center large enough for her to see Chryso on the other side. He was backing up to get a running start at the door. Her heart clenched in her chest and it felt as if the blood in her veins was colder than the Edoeki rod. She didn’t think the door could take much more damage.

  Returning her attention to the rod, she watched its rotation freeze. Thin black lines, pulsing with contained energy, gradually extended from either end. It was working, but it was going too slow. At this rate there would be no escape.

  She didn’t have time to finish the thought. On the other side of the door, Chryso slammed into it, bashing through with his shoulder. Plunging his hand through, he tried to reach them, but they were too far away. She could see anger and frustration warring on his face, marring his perfect features as he tried to get to them. When he couldn’t, he began tearing at the wood, his fingers sinking into it and gouging out large chunks. It was only the incredible thickness of it that kept him out this long.

  Turning back to the rod, praying she had the power to make it work, she pushed everything she had into it. Every moment of joy in her life, every tear of sorrow, every moment she’d ever experienced was fed into the magic powering the rod. As though that was what the device was waiting for, the power, the dark energy shot out, creating a bubble large enough to step through.

  “No!” screamed a voice to her left. Startled, she turned her head to see Chryso pushing himself through the opening in the door. He no longer looked like the handsome man he’d been before. Gone were the perfect features, the strong jaw and hypnotic eyes. In their place was a sharp nose and eyes so black they looked as if they could swallow her soul. His powerful frame began changing, becoming thinner and making it easier for him to slip through the widening hole.

  Passing through the door, the changing Chryso fell to the floor but pulled himself up quickly. His movements were lithe, almost serpentine in their deadly grace. Even as his face elongated as she watched, when his tongue flitted out of his mouth, long and forked like that of a snake tasting the air, her heart seized in her chest. She couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t think.

  With a final shake of his head, Chryso leaped, hands and claws extended toward her, crossing the distance between them as though propelled by a cannon. Everything else seemed to disappear, as if her mind could only concentrate on Chryso’s hurtling figure closing upon her.

  She felt something wrap itself around her stomach and, with a sharp jerk, pull her backward. Her arms wheeled in the air as she stumbled back, trying to keep her balance. A cold pleasant sensation washed over her, like stepping through a sprinkler on a hot day, as she fell backward through the portal.

  All sound was cut off, and she couldn’t hear Chryso’s maddening scream on the other side of the portal, but she could see the rage burning in his features as he landed just feet from where she’d been standing.

  Behind her and somehow next to her, she could hear something. It was small and quiet but insistent, like a gnat flying near her head, and she turned her head to see the noise was coming from William. He was trying to say something, but in the absolute quiet of where they were, she couldn’t make out the words.

  Trying to get his point across, he gestured at the portal, then ran a finger across his throat. She had to agree with him, Chryso would kill them. He did it again, and she understood what he wanted. Turing back to the portal, she was just in time to see Chryso reach out for the opening as he readied himself to jump through.

  Delving inside herself as deep as she could, she found the flow of her magic and, almost like turning off a faucet, closed it. The flow of power ceased and with a wink, the portal closed. The Edoeki rod twinkled in the air where it hung for a moment before dropping to the ground with a soundless thud.

  Taking a breath, surprised to be alive, she sat up and looked around. Wherever the rod brought them, it was dark but not pitch-black. It was the type of darkness found an hour before the sun rose, with just enough light to see, but not enough to do anything. This was the in-between place, and as bad as she knew it could be, she was still glad to be here. With both of them here, they should be able to get out.

  The buzzing sound returned and, rather annoyed it was interrupting the warming glow of still being alive, she turned toward William. Though she couldn’t understand anything he was trying to say, she understood what he wanted as he pushed the rod toward her. He was right, staying in the in-between was dangerous. No one knew what lived in the eternal dark, and as happy as she was to be alive, she didn’t want to find out either.

  Concentrating on the rod, she opened up to her magic again, though this time it came slower and felt weaker, as though it was being forced through something. The sense of life that filled her when the magic came was not quite gone, but it was less. Puzzled, she tried opening wider to allow a greater flow, but the feeling remained.

  She must have spent some time considering this because when she looked up, filled with the power and ready to activate the rod, the only thing she saw was William’s backside. He’d turned around and was staring almost straight up. Bella’s jaw dropped as, following the direction of his gaze, she watched something fly across the sky. It was so large, so very vast, her mind refused to comprehend it.

  Turning back to the rod, she sent her power into it to activate the portal. The rod gave her some resistance at first, as though it didn’t want to accept the energy, but when she pressed harder, she could feel it sinking in.


  When the portal opened, a process that didn’t take as long as she thought it would now that she wasn’t under the threat of eminent death, it was her turn to pull her friend through, though she accomplished this by tugging on his sleeve.

  Stepping through the hole in the air, the returning sound was a welcoming assault. Water dripping in the sink, traffic filtering up from the street, and the world around her wasn’t grayed out, though it was still night outside.

  Dropping onto her couch, she tried to sort through the thousands of questions running though her mind. Ronnie was dead, Samantha was still missing, and now it looked like her employer was tied up in whatever was going on. It felt like her head was on the verge of exploding.

  A bark of laughter caused her to look up. William’s face split with an enormous grin and his eyes twinkled. He looked for all the world like a child learning they were getting a bicycle on Christmas. And, like a Christmas present, he was unwrapping something bound in dark tanned leather. Light glinted off a long slender section of blade as the last of the wrappings were removed.

  “What are you laughing at?” she asked, feeling annoyed. The whole point of everything was to free Ronnie from the Lank’s possession so they could find Samantha. Now he was gone, and with him, all hope of finding Samantha.

  The grin on his face grew wider, though she wasn’t sure how it was possible.

  “What?”

  “I found his office.”

  17

  William had had a much easier time going down the right fork than Bella had down the left. Sneaking through the corridor, he’d passed by not one, but two different junctures. Deciding the best course of action was to keep the wall to his right shoulder, he turned and walked down the sloping hall, running his fingers along the rough stone wall as he did.

  There were at least half a dozen rooms for him to search, most of them used for storage. In one room he’d come across paintings stacked by the dozens. He recognized a few of them as masterpieces by great artists. There was something wrong, he felt, with burying such beautiful works away from the eyes of the world.

  The next few rooms searched didn’t reveal much either, though one room, large enough to hold a decent party in, looked like a shrine to someone. Judging by the mass of candle wax surrounding the altar, it appeared someone prayed often. Spending a little more time searching this room, if for no other reason than it seemed important, revealed nothing interesting.

  He passed by two more doors in the corridor in quick succession. The first wasn't locked, but when pressing his ear to it, he heard voices and shuffling on the other side. There wasn’t time to get into a fight, so he turned and made his way to the second door. It opened under his easy ministrations, but held nothing more than various items that accumulate over time. A quick search and he closed the door behind him as he left, wincing as it scraped the floor. One more door to go.

  Reaching the last door in the corridor, he was surprised to find it locked when none of the rest were. He’d tried to force it quietly and, when that didn’t work, tried to force it not so quietly. His face flushed, and he rubbed his shoulder at the memory. Jarring his arm must have jarred his mind as well because, after the throbbing in his shoulder lessened, he bent over to examine the lock. Tracing a rune meant to unlock the iron lock, he fed it enough power to make it glow, but the lock refused to open. Frowning, he tried another, then a third before giving up unlocking it.

  Bracing his nerves, he traced a fourth symbol on the lock. Since they would never come back and he doubted they’d even be remembered, he shouldn’t care what damage he caused. The important thing was to find the blade shard. Concentrating on the rune, he fed it power just as he’d done for the others.

  Nothing seemed to change for a moment, though he could feel the power working. There, just to the left of center, he saw the black iron change color to a dull red. His pulse quickened and the hair on his arms stood on end. The red spot grew until it covered the entire metal plate. As it did, bits of metal flaked off, floating to the floor and forming a small pile.

  As the spell completed, the entire mechanism grew a dirty red brown coat that fell to bits as he poked at it. Not the most subtle way to open a lock, but forcing it to rust as if left to the elements for a hundred years did the trick. One final shove and the door was free to open.

  Stepping inside the room, it was obvious the space was a private study or office. An enormous desk occupied much of the room. Thick rugs covered the floor, and the walls held shelves filled with leather-bound books. He could feel the age and power of them, though when he pulled one down and opened it, he couldn’t read it. If this book was just a small sign, the power belonging to Chryso must be massive. Shuddering at the thought, he replaced the tome and resumed his search.

  Try as he might, though, he couldn’t find the blade shard anywhere. Dropping into the only chair in the room, feeling as though on the verge of failing both Bella and himself, he stared at the room in general. Think, he berated himself. If I’m a powerful man trying to keep an ancient weapon hidden, where do I hide it? He was sure it was in the room, but where?

  Taking a deep breath, he pressed down all emotion and closed his eyes to let his other senses wander. Exhaling, a thin silvery mist trickled from his lips. Each breath he took released more and more until there was enough to spread around the room and climb the walls until it covered every surface. With his eyes shut he couldn’t see the silver mist. Instead, everywhere the mist passed, his mind’s eye showed him shades different shades of color.

  Where the mist touched them, the books radiated a bright red, showing not only that they were magical as he’d thought, but that the magic in them was old and wild. Seeing the room through the mist of magic revealed that the books weren’t the only magical items stored down here. A bit of bone sitting on a shelf by itself pulsed with an ominous purple. A group of rocks arranged in a circle each gave off a different color from green to yellow to a burnt orange. Even the walls themselves appeared enchanted with a spell meant to keep anyone outside from scrying into the room and revealing its contents.

  Everywhere he looked magic glowed back at him. Soon colors began to blend, and he felt his mind beginning to spin with the fury of a growing tornado as he held on to the magic. The only thing that didn’t glow with magic was a small spot behind him.

  Opening his eyes, he let go of the magic and rubbed his head for a moment. Everything has a price, even magic, and he was now paying it with the massive pounding between his temples. But the headache would have to wait until he could do something about it.

  Since everything in the room radiated magic, he turned his attention to the one spot that didn’t. Built into the wall behind the desk was a glass terrarium. Filled with an assortment of plants, it was large enough to hold almost any reptile he could think of, but he couldn’t see any. Flicking his finger against the glass, unwilling to put his hand in until he was sure nothing could bite, he leapt back from the movement he caused.

  Scuttling through the plants were a half dozen scorpions. Each one the size of a small grapefruit and covered in chitinous armor so black it absorbed the light, they scuttled toward the glass on scurrying legs with twin tails hanging over their bodies, poised and ready to strike. Reaching the wall of their enclosure, they jammed their claws at the glass, acting as though it would only take a moment to shatter it before they’d run him down. Some of them even tried to strike at the glass with their tails. When none of their attacks worked, they turned on each other, pushing one another back and forth, though none struck out with their tails.

  In their back-and-forth fighting, the twin-tailed scorpions uncovered something that glinted in the light. Shaking from excitement and a little trepidation, he stepped a little closer to get a better look at what the scuttling arachnids uncovered. This seemed to attract their attention because they stopped fighting each other and turned to stare at him. Leaning in as close as he dared, he could just make out the edge of the blade shard beneath their fe
et.

  Knowing he’d have to reach in to grab the shard caused his stomach to flip. Opening himself up to the meager magic remaining in him, he attempted to erect a moving barrier to push the scorpions away from the shard. As they stepped back, he felt a thrill race through him. Opening the top of the terrarium, he could now hear the snapping of their gigantic front claws. Their beady eyes followed his hand as he reached in for the shard while their feet stomped the vegetation beneath them.

  As if coming close to the shard was a signal, their stomping ended and, as a single unit, they leaped. With stingers jutting forward to pierce his hand, they passed right through his shield as though it didn’t exist. Jerking back saved his hand from being pierced, though he felt something catching on his shirt sleeve.

  Having come so close, the bugs renewed their efforts to get at him, even climbing on one another to reach the top of their cage.

  Heart racing and eyes wide with shock, he drew back from the enclosure. There was no way they should have been able to jump through the barrier. He’d seen it push them back, so he knew it worked, but something was wrong. Something… A thought struck him. Concentrating on the nearest bug, he sent a thread of magic smaller than a human hair at it. As soon as the magic touched its armor it fell slack, as if cut. Shaking his head, he tried the experiment on another one with the same result.

  Whatever they were, somehow these creatures were unaffected by magic.

  His cheeks burned. Anger surged up inside, looking for a way to vent. He was so close to the shard. He could even see it, but these creatures, these bugs were keeping him out. His frustration boiled over and without thinking he grabbed an ornament from the desk and hurled it across the room to smash into the stone wall. As bits of the glass figurine showered the rug beneath, an idea struck him.