by Kit Hallows
It was going to be a massacre.
49
I ran among the screaming crowd, Astrid by my side, her sword raised.
Arrows whistled through the air. Samuel took out two witches to my right. I raised the sword of intention to parry a wretched hag that slashed at me, and our steel collided in a shower of fiery red and silver sparks.
The witch pushed me back, her strength as wild as her glare. I jumped back as her blade arced through the air before me, then thrust mine forward, plunging the tip through her heart. “End!”
I glanced down as a bloody hand fell beside me, its clawed fingers still clutching a glowing silver sword. As I turned, Astrid finished off a shrieking handless witch with deadly efficiency. Then a pair of her sisters attacked, swords aloft. Astrid ducked low and sidestepped, her movements fluid, calm and focused. She stabbed one through the throat and parried the other’s blow, before spinning forward, dagger in hand. The other witch spluttered, her mouth and chin red with blood as she fell.
“Morgan!” Astrid cried out. I turned to face a witch running at me, sword raised over her head. She was almost upon me when she froze, eyes wide, a silver sword tip bursting through her side. As she fell, I saw the witch standing behind her. She shot me a contemptuous look before vanishing into the crowd.
“Why did she stop her?” Astrid shouted, her face puzzled.
“I don’t know, but when something like that happens twice it’s no accident,” I called back. For some reason it seemed an element within the upper echelons of the Silver Spiral wanted to keep me alive. The realization chilled me to the bone.
The blinkereds continued to scatter but the witches wrangled them in a coordinated campaign. I bolted toward the fray and collided violently with something both impenetrable and unseen.
I stepped back, Astrid beside me. “What the fuck?” I ran my hand across it then jerked it away as the air tingled and burned. An arrow shot over my head, struck the invisible force and sizzled into embers.
“Help!” A guy, that couldn’t have been older than eighteen ran screaming on the other side, his eyes as wide as a panicked horse. Three witches surrounded him but there was nothing I could do. We’d been cordoned off.
“See it. Imagine it. Open it!” They chanted as they encircled him, knives slashing down, spattering the grass with blood.
“Astrid, we’re trapped.” I kicked at the barricade and it shimmered with sparks.
“No. There!” She pointed to a witch, clutching a staff with both hands. The tip glowed lava-red. I followed the arc of Astrid’s finger as it traced the barrier to another witch. One that held a second staff of power. The spinners that had cast the web-like obstruction.
“Samuel!” I shouted. He followed my gaze and let an arrow fly. It ricocheted off their trap and burst into flames as they began to rush toward the stage, dragging the barrier with them like a fishing net. We bolted through the crowd but the witches were fast and soon they had us corralled against the stage with dozens of blinkereds.
“No. Please!” A teenage girl screamed as a witch descended upon her, a serrated dagger in hand. I pushed through the crowd as golden bolt of light shot through the air and struck the witch in the chest, setting her robes alight. Bright yellow flames began to curl and lick across her robes. The witch screamed, dropped the blade, and rolled in the grass as the flames consumed her in a bright lustrous conflagration.
I glanced back and saw where the spell had come from. A band of ten or more women had emerged from the trees. Witches. Grey witches. Good witches. I recognized their leader. I’d met her at rituals I’d attended with Willow. Seraphina Inglehart, a tall, graceful matron with quick, intelligent eyes and long wild hair. Her aura was usually kindly, but not today. Today her face was marred with fury. She raised her staff and shot another bolt of crackling golden energy, and another member of the Spiral fell dead. The circle that stood beside her followed suit, their spells striking down members of the Spiral hard and fast. I knew two of them from Willow’s coven, but most of the others seemed like they’d just stepped out from some strange, otherworldly dimension.
The Silver Spiral ceased their assault on the blinkereds as they rounded on the opposing coven and soon the clearing was ablaze with the sizzling magic of their dark spells.
Crackles of light shot through the invisible wall as Seraphina focused her onslaught at the barrier. The witches that had cast the dragnet were stunned by the surge, then fell screaming, their bodies engulfed in flames.
I ran forward, Astrid by my side. We pressed through the throng, cutting down witches as we advanced. Arrows darted past us as Samuel took out the rancorous targets that surrounded us. The tide shifted and within a matter of moments the scene was still and littered with the mangled corpses of blinkereds and sisters of the Silver Spiral.
Only one dark witch was left amid the carnage.
She stood, hands raised in the air. She carried a phone and a creepy smile danced on her thin lips. “Morgan Rook!” she called, her voice sing-song. “I have a message for Morgan Rook!”
Seraphina appeared at my side, her coven close behind. “Do you know her?” she asked in her thick Russian accent.
“No. But it seems she knows me.” I replied, then raised my voice to the approaching witch. “What do you want?”
“I’ve just told you.” She laughed blithely as she stepped over her fallen comrades. “I have a message. From Elsbeth Wyght. I think you’re going to want to see it, sweetheart.” The wormy blue veins under her eyes twitched as she giggled again.
“I’ve got you covered,” Samuel said, his arrow trained on her heart. Astrid stood beside him, sword in hand, ready to pounce as she scrutinized the approaching witch.
“What’s the message?” I asked.
She curtsied and held the phone out. “Here you go, Morgan Rook. She’s all yours.”
50
A video chat streamed live on the screen as I took the phone from the witch. The first thing I saw was the boy. He was maybe seven or eight, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing a child that looked so terrified. “I want to go home,” he said, as he gazed at me. “Please let me go.”
I tried to scan the scene behind him, hoping to determine where he might be, but it was murky and barely illuminated by the reflected candlelight that danced in his horror-filled eyes. I swallowed the tide of fury that welled through me like hot bile. “You’ll be okay.” I forced a smile. “I’m here to help you.”
Was I? Could I? I glanced at the witch who’d delivered the phone and fought the urge to slam my fist into her smug grinning face. Shutting my eyes, I shifted my focus back to the screen as someone whispered off camera. The boy flinched and clamped his tiny hands over his eyes. “I want my mom and dad. Please!”
The camera spun round, shadowy walls and burning candles whipped by, the trail of their flames flickering on the grainy display. Then I found myself face to face with Elsbeth Wyght’s dark, hateful scowl. “Morgan Rook,” she said. She licked her lips and smiled.
“I swear…” My voice choked. I couldn’t find the words.
“Swear what?” She asked playfully.
“Stop whatever the fuck it is you’re doing, and let that child go. Now.”
“Make me!” She poked out her tongue and followed the juvenile gesture with a childish giggle.
“Where are you?” I glanced back to the witch standing before me. If Wyght didn’t tell me, her courier would. No matter what it took.
“You’ll know that soon enough,” Wyght said. “That is if you decide you want to spare the poor little lamb. Your choice, Morgan. You or him. Are you in the mood for some fun and games?”
Her impish manner and the low whimper of the child stoked my welling wrath and I clutched the phone with such force I thought it might shatter. I swept the camera lens over the bodies strewn in the grass. “Fun and games like this?” I demanded, my voice trembling. “How does that strike you?
“Eh, I think I’d like to try something diffe
rent” Wyght said. I turned the screen around and looked into her insane eyes as she continued, “I had an inkling the ceremony would be interrupted. You’ve been a busy boy, running all over town slamming my doors shut. But one will open, Morgan. It’s been decided. Now, are you game?”
“For what?”
“Give it to him,” Wyght said as she moved the camera onto a witch carrying a small silver tray. A milkshake sat in the center. It looked like strawberry and vanilla, with dark sprinkles scattered on top. I knew with a sickening feeling, as I watched the witch place the glass before the boy, that they weren’t made of chocolate.
“Drink,” Wyght said.
The boy looked at the glass and shook his head. “No.”
“Drink!” Wyght screamed, her voice distorted through the speakers. “Drink, or I’ll lock you in a room with something that will make your worst nightmares look like nothing more than puppy dogs.”
The boy took the straw in his trembling fingers and swallowed a mouthful of the shake.
“No!” I shouted.
“Don’t worry.” Wyght’s voice was playful once more. “It’s just succulent strawberry, yummy vanilla and a splash of black spice. Sans the coke and mushrooms of course, I’m not a monster, Morgan.” Someone laughed off screen. I glanced toward Samuel, Astrid, Seraphina and her witches. All their faces were grave except for the witch that had brought me the phone. She was still grinning and I had to take a deep breath and step away from her.
“Now, it’s getting late sleepy head” Wyght continued. “Little Benjamin’s about to take a journey to the land of nod. I’ll be joining him there, in dreamland and we’ll see if we can get that big old door open once and for all. But you could always help me instead, Morgan Rook. In fact, I’d prefer it. I know you’d get the deed done with aplomb. Are you ready to save the day? Of course, if you’d just minded your own business in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess.” She sighed as she patted the boy on the head. “It’s so sad that I’ve had to stoop to this.”
“I’ll do it, just let him go.” I was almost certain I wouldn’t come back from this, that it was a suicide mission. But I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d abandoned that kid to those heartless bitches. To her.
“Good,” Wyght grinned and watched me closely, her amusement growing, as if she’d read each and every thought that had just passed through my mind. “But you’ll need to hurry because my patience is a thin and frayed old thing. And make sure you’re alone. Because if you’re not, I’ll take out his eyes.”
She panned the camera back to the boy. Most of the milkshake was gone and one of the witches had an arm curled around his shoulder, as if comforting him. But the real message couldn’t have been clearer. Wyght nodded and someone obscured the boy behind an ornate gilded frame. I had no doubt that it held a mirror and he was now staring back at his own reflection on the other side.
“Don’t dally, Morgan.” Wyght winked. “Go and fetch your horse like the brave white knight every poor child needs and rescue him in his darkest hour like the comic book hero you are.” Her smile faded and her eyes were like cold steel then the screen went black as she ended the call.
Wyght’s messenger plucked the phone from my hand. “I’ll escort you to the gate.”
“You can’t go alone,” Astrid said.
“I have to.”
Samuel shook his head. “We can't let anything happen to you Morgan. Not when you’re about to help us save the world.” There was humor in his voice, but not in his eyes.
“There has to be another way.” Astrid swallowed and her usually defiant glare softened.
“We can help,” Seraphina said. Her associates agreed without hesitation and a few gave me kind, pitying smiles.
“If you betray her then she’ll murder the boy,” Wyght’s witch said. “Slowly. I promise.”
I turned to Samuel and Astrid. “She's right. Don’t follow.” Then I glanced back to Wyght’s smirking emissary. “I’m going to annihilate you the first chance I get. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” She chortled. “Now, may I suggest you douse the empty threats so we can get you ready to go?" She placed her finger on my belt and the buckle clicked open. “First rule, no weapons.” She pinched my cheek as the sword clattered to the ground. “Ditch the gun and bag as well.”
I did as she instructed. Then I followed her away from the clearing, leaving my friends and allies behind.
The temperature seemed to drop as she led me through the grove toward the south side of the park. Or maybe it was just my anger and bravado steeling me against whatever might be in store as we headed into the darkening night.
51
We walked, the park eerily silent now that the last of the blinkereds had fled. It seemed Elsbeth Wyght had conjured quite the Halloween night, with plenty of causalities to show for it. My fists clenched as I thought of her. Fists were all I had now. No sword, no gun, no back-up. I felt like a man condemned yet determined to make something of his last moments, and maybe I was.
“Are you ready for your little trip?” The witch paused near a gate set in the high stone wall and wrenched it open. I ignored her as I stepped through to the street and stood before a sleek white motorcycle.
“Your trusty steed.” The witch tossed me the key.
“Where am I going?”
“Take this phone, put it in your pocket and head south. Pull over as soon as it buzzes. They’ll be texting the next set of instructions.” She held out a helmet with a curtsey and a wink. “Now doff your armor, white knight, and prepare for battle.” As I took it she waved and walked off, skipping as she went.
I did my best to fight back the rising nausea as I strapped the helmet on and took one final glance back at Temple Park, lamenting the allies I’d been forced to walk away from. It was just me and the witches now. The last time I’d gone up against them I’d had the upper hand. Now it was theirs. A sinking feeling passed through me. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that one way or another, this would be my final encounter with the Silver Spiral.
An image of Ben flitted through my mind. Of how he’d held his fingers over his eyes. I want my mom and dad. Please!
I gunned the engine. If the chance came my way I’d burn every single last one of them.
The bike flew down the empty streets like a rocket. It seemed like the foul mist oozing from the lake had infected the entire city. A few stragglers made their way along the sidewalk, many still dressed in Halloween costumes. The mercifully blinkered.
I was nearing the magic quarter when my phone rumbled. I pulled over as instructed and the first message sent me due west. Twenty minutes later I got another text sending me south. And soon after that I was redirected toward an area of the city know as Oakhill. The place had once been packed with nice middle class houses. By the time I’d moved to the city, those neighborhoods had succumbed to urban decay. But most of that was gone now, cleared away and replaced by a maze of towering, colorful trendy apartment buildings and condos.
The phone buzzed a final time as I sped by Evergreen Mall. I was directed to leave the bike by the main entrance and make my way inside.
The mall was a rundown eighties throwback. It had been slated for demolition at least a year ago as part of the area’s urban renewal effort, but litigation and bureaucratic red tape had put a stay on the bulldozers. Now, hundreds of panels of portable chain link fencing enclosed the vast, weedy deteriorating parking lot that surrounded the place.
It felt strange, shoving away a section of the barrier and coasting the bike toward the sprawling abandoned complex. Stranger still that my nemesis had chosen such a venue for her standoff. But as I glanced up to the towers that stood like sentries around the empty grey lot, it made horrible sense. If annihilation of blinkereds was her goal, there'd be plenty of them living right outside her door. I reached into my coat for a holster that wasn’t there and swallowed my rising anxiety. Then the main entrance slid open. I walked through and paused to get my
bearings.
The place was silent. I scoured the darkened stores for signs of life. Nothing. The first few windows I passed were still eerily recognizable as a clothing store, a phone shop and a gaming place but most of the ones that followed had been completely gutted. “Hello?” I called, my voice echoing off the litter-strewn, grimy floor, then someone sniggered in the darkness.
Again my hand jerked toward my holster before faltering. The phone rumbled once more.
What are you waiting for? Wary? Alarmed? Frightened? Keep going tough guy. Take the left path…
I thrust the phone into my pocket and walked on as the sliding doors behind me rattled and slammed shut.
52
The further I traveled into the depths of the mall, the darker it got. I slipped past the shuttered storefronts with their faded posters, and looming chasms of darkness. My shoe squeaked on a metal grate as I walked, the sound jarring in the heavy cavernous hush.
I slowed as I reached the next bend and peered around the wall. A row of a hundred or more robed figures stood, blocking my path. Their hands were positioned over their faces in the exact gesture the frantic boy had made. They were stock-still. Lifeless.
“You sick fucks.” They were mannequins, placed there to mock and unnerve me, and as much as I hated to admit it, they’d done their job.
Evil fizzled in the air, riddling its way into the fabric of this slowly decaying place. I could sense Wyght’s handiwork all around me like an invisible aura of malevolence. Someone was watching. I could feel their eyes and caught furtive movements in the gloom behind the shop windows.
My heart quickened as I pushed on and navigated through the taunting macabre regiment of mannequins.
There was no clean magic here. Nothing I could absorb and use. The place was an empty shell, gasping and soulless for far too long. The only magic here was Wyght’s, and she knew damn well I wasn’t going to tap into it.
