Magic Rising

by Jennifer Cloud

  Neither noticed her yet. Then she heard a quiet swipe. She pulled two throwing knives from her leg sheath and tossed them toward the backdoor, while the shadowed figure in front fell to the floor. The knives she’d thrown found their target. One sunk into flesh, bringing blood she could smell in the still room. The other sunk deep into a wall, mixing in the sound of sheet rock crumbling as the back door opened and fell shut.

  Deirdre turned on the lights and saw a little blood at her back door, and a nasty hole in the wall she’d have to patch where the other dagger remained embedded. At her front door lay Farmer, a crossbow bolt in his thigh. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d pushed Farmer far enough to break into her home with a pistol drawn.

  She went to the back, staring out into the darkness, but there was no one there except for Snowball licking himself at her backdoor. Midnight or his henchman had vanished into the night leaving a strange pattern of blood drips along her patio. She really hoped the cat didn’t get into that. Her neighbor would be mortified.

  “What brings you back to my home?” Deirdre walked over to Farmer, and then noticed the extent of his blood flow. The bolt had hit the femoral artery.

  “Finish me off.”

  “No way. I don’t want to kill.” She pulled the belt from her pants and wrapped it tightly near his groin. An act his skinny little leg didn’t make easy. “Stay still. Niam punctured the artery. We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “Kill me you stupid bitch. I broke in. I’m not even an officer anymore.” His body trembled, the first sign of blood loss. “You had my job taken from me. You took everything from me.”

  There was a strange scent to Farmer. She couldn’t put her finger on it but his blood didn’t smell quite right. It was familiar. Something in the back of her mind nagged at her. She didn’t have time to ponder the strange floral scent. She had to save his life.

  “Shut up.” Deirdre grabbed the phone. It might be faster if she transported him, but if the belt came loose in her car, she wouldn’t have the means to replace any blood loss.

  “Didn’t you hear me,” he shouted. “I came here to kill you.”

  Deirdre gave the information to the emergency operator. After giving the address and Farmer’s situation, the operator repeated everything back to her. A few more questions and Deirdre was certain even the most incompetent person could get help here.

  “I came here to kill you,” he repeated.

  She hung up the phone, ignoring the operator’s requests to stay on the line. Near the couch lay the gun Farmer had brought. It seemed he dropped it after the bolt hit him. She’d seen the pistol, known what it was for, but his intent wouldn’t change her mind about retrieving help for him.

  “I know why you were here. I watched you come inside.” She shook her head. This guy must really think she was an idiot.

  Farmer laid his head back, and cursed quietly. She knew better than to try to sway his opinions of her. She wasn’t a murderer. Well, that wasn’t exactly right. She had caused her mother’s death, indirectly, but she wouldn’t let another person come to know oblivion because of her, if she could help it.

  She pulled a throw pillow from the couch and put it under his head, then checked the belt again. The bleeding had slowed, but not nearly enough. He would need transfusions and surgery.

  “Who shot me?”

  That wasn’t a common question. Most people knew who had it in for them before a single bullet was fired. Unfortunately Farmer had chosen the worst moment on earth to break into her home. Irony could be sweet after all.

  Deirdre swallowed down her smile. “I don’t know for sure. I didn’t see him but odds are that Niam Brogens did it or ordered it. He was here to kill me. After your rather insistent phone calls, I went out to Stone House. He must’ve had me followed back to town.” Rage grew in her for having this mess forced back into her life. “His fighting name is Midnight. You’re lucky. It also seems fitting that he shot you since you’re the cause of all this.”

  “You call this lucky?”

  “For him, this is a warning shot. You’ll live, with assistance.” She shrugged. “Maybe he got confused in the darkness, maybe he realized it wasn’t me. I don’t know. Just be happy you’re still breathing.”

  “Why does he want you dead?” Farmer emphasized the word ‘he’.

  Behind her the phone started ringing, probably the operator again. She didn’t want to go through the spiel, listening to a long list of questions while hanging on the line waiting for help. She ignored the phone.

  Deirdre leaned back, tempted to make him lie there in silence until the ambulance arrived. Considering his situation, Farmer wouldn’t hurt her again, or even attempt it. She might as well give him some solace. He’d dug this far into her past and telling a little of her story might prepare her for revealing it to Sabrine and Tech.

  “I disobeyed orders at Stone House. Punishment got complicated and my mother was murdered. They were just waiting for another reason to get me, torture me for screwing up again. If it weren’t for the fire, I would’ve been put to death too. Instead, I escaped. Either are offenses worthy of death in Niam’s eyes. He was a very strict teacher.”

  He looked at her. His eyes brimmed with an unnatural hate. Then she thought about the flower smell of his blood. Most blood smelled coppery. His had the scent of Morning Glories.

  “Farmer, have you been bewitched?”

  He started to say something but the sirens outside made him stop. Deirdre opened the door as two police officers entered. One began searching the premises while the other took Deirdre’s statement. She stepped away from Farmer, to give a brief rundown of the events.

  Thankfully the medics showed up before any real questions were asked. They assessed the situation and returned to the ambulance, bringing back a gurney and a medical bag with items to slow the bleeding. They didn’t remove the belt though. Farmer already looked too pale.

  She stood at the door, watching them load him into the back of the ambulance. She stayed there as the white and red van pulled onto the road, lights whirling, sirens blaring through the night. Farmer would have a lot of explaining to do. She might have to do a little herself.

  Standing there with the cold breeze flowing over her bare face and arms made things better. All day long she’d had the terrible feeling that her life had been nothing more than a dream, and she would wake as a scared little girl back in her room at Stone House. This was real though. She’d survived Niam once, she could do it again. He wouldn’t ruin her or take her back.

  As she stayed in the doorway, another cruiser pulled into her driveway. Noah sat in the passenger’s side, getting out the moment the vehicle stopped. Worry covered his handsome face. A uniformed officer got out and followed Noah to her door. The man with Noah joined the other officers, examining her home while Noah stayed with her.

  “Are you okay?” He looked her over then put an arm around her, seeming to debate on whether to hug her and settling on something in between.

  “I’m fine.” She rubbed her neck, the stress built there, turning the muscles into tiny knots. Her movement also helped to removed Noah’s arm from around her shoulders. “Farmer is at the hospital.”

  Deirdre stepped through the door first, sitting heavily on the sofa. One uniformed officer came back through the house and whispered something to Noah. Both Noah and the cop sat on the opposite side. For whatever reasons, this already felt like official business.

  “What happened?” Noah leaned closer, and for a brief instance, she wished he would make physical contact again. “Did he hurt you?”

  Another statement she didn’t want to give but the uniformed guy had already pulled out his little memo pad. This day wouldn’t end. She’d died and gone to hell where everything took too long and became tedious. Dante hadn’t thought of this torture. He didn’t have forms to fill out, although this level of hell deserved mentioning.

  “I was sitting on the stairs at the side of my living room when I heard t
wo people break in. Ryan Farmer came in through the front, gun drawn. Somebody else came in the back. They saw each other and the guy from the back shot a crossbow bolt through Farmer’s leg.”

  “You saw all this?” The uniformed officer wrote frantically, trying to note all the details. She’d seen him before but couldn’t place his name. She’d always been bad with names.

  “Yes.” She wasn’t sure what Farmer would say. He couldn’t deny breaking into her home. “I heard the noise and sat in the shadows waiting to see what would happen.”

  “Who was the guy that shot Ryan?” Noah took careful attention, looking deeply into her eyes as if asking the information would be a turn on. “Did you know him?”

  Delving into the details of her association with Niam would get messy. She didn’t want to go there. For her, memory lane was filled with potholes and monsters that could come up and attack.

  “I’m guessing it was a target I had encountered. I didn’t get a clear look at him. It was dark and the attacker fled without me seeing his face.” Deirdre hadn’t lied, but carefully let out pertinent details. She hadn’t seen the attacker’s face and they didn’t need to know her hunches. “Sorry I can’t be more help.”

  “Do you know why Ryan was here?”

  She knew. Any fool knew the kind of hatred he harbored. The emotion ate at him, trying to consume him from the inside out. He’d come here to kill her, shoot her in her sleep.

  “I don’t care to speculate, but that’s his gun on the floor.”

  The uniformed officer stepped outside to the patrol car. When he came back, he had a plastic baggy and had slid on a pair of latex gloves. Funny, the cop picked up the gun with his thumb and forefinger, touching it by the edge of the barrel as if putting it into evidence. Could it be possible that the police were going to prosecute one of their own? She knew it happened in larger cities, but this place had a different code of ethics.

  After a few more questions they stood to leave, Noah remained by the door. He was sweet, but she didn’t do sweet. The uniformed cop went out to the car giving her a few minutes alone with Noah that she didn’t want.

  “Would you like me to stay?” He stepped closer, putting a hand on each of her shoulders, and drawing her closer. “I will sleep on the couch. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She didn’t know what to do, swoon, bat her eyelashes. Some flirting or something should be in order but she was at a loss as to how. “I do run a security company.”

  “I thought you’d say that.” He shoved both hands into his pockets and kicked at the door frame. “I’m not the enemy, you know. You don’t have to act tough around me.”

  Noah flashed a smile, movie star quality, and she suddenly wished she were the type of woman to fall for it. That’s what he wanted, even needed. Deep down inside, he probably thought she was hard on the outside, waiting for a good man to come along and open up the soft caring woman at her core. He hadn’t realized that there was nothing beneath, nothing for him. She was hollow.

  At the end of the day, she might wish a man could take care of her or reach through the damage Stone House had done to make her feel like a real human being. Noah wasn’t the man for the job. He’d always try to change her instead of accepting her the way she was.

  “It’s not an act. Goodnight.”

  She pressed against his chest, gently helping him out of the door, so she could shut it. Before clearing the frame, he took her hands, lowering them, then leaning toward her face. Inches separated them before she realized what he was doing. His hand came up, lifting her chin then his lips pressed fully against hers. The contact was bliss with gentle pressure and he pulled away, saying nothing more.

  There was nothing to say. She touched her lips, feeling a little tingle, then turned and went back inside. Through the glass she saw him linger, staring back. She was tempted to invite him back in, but then what? There could be no happily ever after with him.

  She locked the door and watched him climb into the passenger’s side of the patrol car. He was charming, but she had no time for puppy dog crushes. She had to find a way to deal with Niam and Farmer, and find the association with Shope.

  A quick clean up had to come first. Deirdre took a plastic bucket from beneath the sink and started scrubbing away the blood splatters in her home. Blood never cleaned up well, wanting to smear before letting go of a surface. After a few more swipes with a washcloth, the blood was gone and her house was free of any reminders. She threw the bucket and cloth away, then went upstairs.

  It was late, her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t rest. She ran water, hoping a hot bath would help. With her clothes stripped away, she grabbed a towel and stepped into the bathroom as the telephone started ringing.

  “Damn it.” Naked and pissed, she went to the bedroom and took the cordless phone off the stand. “What?”

  “Deirdre, your office phone…” Tech stammered. “I checked the answering machine on your office phone. There was a message.”

  “What about it?”

  There was a long pause and she wondered why she ever gave Tech the code for the answering machine. Okay, he was the only one who ever checked it, but right now she had a tub of hot water growing tepid.

  “A girl left a message.”

  He paused again and she wished she could reach through the phone and smack him. Another client could wait. There were too many loose ends to tie up and she couldn’t concentrate on any more problems.

  “The girl identified herself as Lora Shope. She said that she needs our help.” His voice rose a notch. “It has to be the same one. She called us.”

  Her mind reeled. Deirdre had been involved in Jack Shope’s death, albeit indirectly. Kids usually didn’t see things clearly. Lora might blame Deirdre for his death.

  A worse thought came to her, crashing in like Niam’s letter. Lora could be in trouble. Her father had warned Deirdre. For whatever reasons, Lora Shope could be in danger, possibly from her own mother. “When did she call?”

  “About an hour ago. She didn’t leave a phone number, only said that Gladys would know how to reach her. The caller ID shows unavailable.”

  “Find me this Gladys. I’m heading to the office. I want to know where that girl is by dawn.” She ended the call, standing in her hallway, and found herself hugging the handset.

  A girl pursued and Niam lurking with a fresh group of martyrs. They couldn’t start up another Stone House. They wouldn’t need Lora for it. A girl like that wouldn’t have the training.

  Deirdre went back to the bathroom, sitting in the tub long enough to wash off before putting on fresh clothes. Lora had called the office, so that’s where Deirdre wanted to be in case she tried again.

  The night air hit her, cool and comforting as she got in her car and started into town. She drove with the window down, heater running, enjoying the wind in her hair as the radio played some rock tune. The words were lost to the sound of the wind but she loved it anyway. This was the best thing about being away from Stone House. Driving along, master of her own destiny, pure freedom whipped through her, surrounded her senses. She was a person, not just a pawn in a game. She smiled and realized that she was happy.

  Maybe I have emotions after all.

  She parked on the street in front of her little security office. No other businesses were open this time of night. She had always been known to keep odd hours so they never questioned her when they saw her leave early in the morning or keep the doors locked during normal hours. Her clients never came in person, preferring to phone in their problems and wait for Deirdre to visit them.

  A junk jewelry store sat directly left of her office. Next to it was a sporting goods/hunting supply store called Get Out. They carried a considerable arsenal and always managed to get her a discount on specific items she needed for work. Finishing that end of the road was a convenience store, complete with burned coffee odors and stale mini cakes.

  On the other side was a lawyer’s off
ice, very elegant from what little she’d seen of the plants and nice furniture through the windows. Their corner ended after the lawyer’s office. Her business occupied the street before the fancier retail area that surrounded her dowdy block.

  There wasn’t much across from her except for a parking garage. The lights were always on there, with an attendant reading a magazine or watching the nine-inch television someone had snuck in. They were nice guys, sometimes stopping by when they saw her light on late at night.

  Deirdre pulled a large round key chain from her purse with a dozen different keys for areas she frequented. Her car and house keys were kept on a separate set, for ease. The main office, Tech’s, and a few of the better hotels that used her services for security were on the other set.

  The door to her business was marked in white with the words The Security Specialists printed below a pretty dragonfly riding between the y and s. She found the brass key and stuck it in the dead bolt, then turned another key in the second lock that went to the door. At that moment, she had thirty seconds to disarm the alarm system. Thirty seconds ticked by slowly, a lot of time for fighting, car accidents, computers, or getting away from the annoying person trying to keep a conversation going. For some reason it seemed like a blink when it came to the alarm, making her rush to enter her five digit code to disengage it.

  Once the little white box had a green light, she was fine, locking the front door behind her. This front section should have a receptionist, except they rarely had anyone sitting there. All available manpower was used for jobs. No matter what a person was hired in to do, they ended up working security. She kept an answering machine and twice a week a college kid came in to answer the phones. That was it. Her business worked on word of mouth and all her clients knew the situation. The best clients had her cell phone number.

  She went through the make-shift waiting room. There were two chairs, a television, and a table covered with magazines old enough to make a person cringe. Next came the receptionist’s desk. Further inside ran the hall, bathroom, a small kitchenette, and three offices. The largest was in the back. It functioned as a staging area where assignments were given. The two smaller offices belonged to her and Tech. Tech’s looked like pure chaos with disks, computers, computer parts, and papers littering everything, even the floor. Just walking through that place was a hazard. Tech didn’t work there often, preferring his home office to this one, but it sufficed during the planning stages of jobs.