The Awakened World Boxed Set

by William Stacey

  Angie closed her eyes and let her senses drift outward. There was Char, of course, larger than life and glowing like a star. She sensed the insects but only because there were so many of them, a glowing cloud of life. Just beyond, watching them, were the scavenger birds; and beyond those, a scattering of mice and a larger animal—a fox, she thought, likely hiding in the underbrush. The wild dogs and wolves would come soon enough but weren't yet within her range of a couple hundred meters. Angie opened her eyes again to find Char watching her. She shook her head. "Nothing."

  Char turned south. "The beast's tracks come from that direction."

  "That's where we came from."

  "Let's take a look, shall we?" Char began to follow the paw prints.

  Angie couldn't see any tracks, but Char didn't even slow. "Why go this way, Mother? If the beast followed us into the enclave, then..."

  "Sometimes it's quicker to follow the back trail," Char called out, moving toward a copse of trees several hundred meters away. "In the long run, that is."

  Angie followed, not understanding Char's logic but not in any hurry to find the beast before Ephix anyway. Her thoughts kept going back to Erin and how frightened she must be, blinded and alone, or nearly so. Char's servants would care for her, and she'd be safe enough, but it had to be frightening.

  Char slipped into the trees, and Angie followed. Within moments, Char found a set of men's clothing, boots, a rifle, and a small backpack clumsily hidden beneath a dead tree trunk. "Well, now we know it's a man," said Angie. "How did you know to look?"

  "A guess. If he is a were-beast, which seems likely if he was following you in a city, then he only shifts when he needs to."

  “At will?”

  “Not all were-creatures are like your friend Erin.”

  “He shifted to protect us,” Angie said, voicing the thought that had been nagging at her for some time. “But why?”

  "All good questions, but sadly, ones my sister will not ask, not while her bloodlust is up. She's always been too hasty."

  Char was probably right. As a man, the were-panther, or were-jaguar, could have followed them through the city and sewer. The sewers couldn't have been easy, but likely, his senses were at least as good as Erin's. Well, she mused, that explains how he followed us without Erin seeing. Although she had suspected.

  Char opened the small backpack, staring at its contents with a puzzled expression. Her forked tail swished back and forth. Angie came around her folded wings and saw inside the bag. A single kukri fighting knife, the famous foot-long tear-shaped weapon of the Nepalese Gurkha soldiers, sat atop the contents of the pack, at least a dozen twelve-ounce clear plastic water bottles, all sloshing with water. "Well," Angie said. "Water is important, but..."

  "But that is a lot of water," Char said as she opened one of them, sniffing its contents. Then she poured a few drops onto the back of her hand and licked them, her face thoughtful. "Just water," she whispered. "Although it tastes a bit brackish." Char stuffed the clothing and the boots inside the backpack, handing it to Angie. "Be a dear and carry this for your mother."

  "What are you going to do?"

  Char held the shirt and used a single hand to gesture over it. A divination spell, Angie realized. She was going to track the were-beast with magic.

  “Erin wants you to do that for her brothers. That’s why we’re here. They’re missing. Nathan says they’re dead, but Erin insists they aren’t.”

  Char sniffed. “I’d put my faith in your friend, not that man.”

  “Can you divine their location?”

  “Almost certainly—with Erin’s help. But that will be a much more involved spell and will require a ceremony and preparation. This”—she held up the shirt—“is much easier. Time and distance are everything with divination spells.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know.”

  “Don’t pout, daughter. If humans could learn more spells without killing themselves, we’d teach you.”

  Angie wasn’t so certain of that, but she kept her opinion to herself.

  “Okay,” Char said as she dropped the shirt. “I have the trail.” She abruptly stalked away, moving north toward the ruins once more, walking with greater purpose now. "Come, daughter, let's not let my sister reach the prize first."

  Angie sighed, holding the air rifle between her knees as she hefted the pack onto her back and tightened the straps.

  Once again, she trailed after Char.

  Twenty minutes later, they were back in the ruins. Char moved much more cautiously now, barely making a noise, but Angie felt as if she made enough noise for both, especially carrying the backpack. Thankfully, it wasn't that heavy, even with the water. In the Home Guard, they had often patrolled on foot with full rucksacks, and although Angie hadn't been a combat mage, she still had to carry the same load as everyone else and cover the same distances. In the time since mustering out, her nightly training sessions had only made her that much fitter.

  Before the Awakening, when magic had only been make-believe, the common stereotype of mages had been of old hags or bookish old wizards with long gray beards, studying tomes. The reality was that most mages—combat mages in particular—were amazingly fit, looking more like gymnasts than scholars. Because magic use was corrosive—even with a shade to mitigate the worst of it—mages needed absurd levels of physical fitness and nutrition to remain healthy. Most wild mages—those poor souls who had somehow learned how to wield their magic without Fey training, without bonding with a shade—died within a year or two, their bodies eaten up by magic use, although Char had always claimed that some few survived, somehow negating the aftereffects on their own.

  The thought occurred to Angie that maybe that was what she had done. Nathan was wrong, she was certain of that now. She had cast that Shockwave spell that ripped that attacker apart—without the Other—and she should have died because of it. Something was very wrong. She desperately wanted to get this damned hunt over with so she could have a long talk with Char.

  Char stalked ahead of her, using her staff as a walking stick with her other hand resting on the hilt of her battle rapier. Would a weapon like that even be of any use against such a powerful were-creature? Char's wings extended back, curling about her to lessen her silhouette, but it was hard to miss a succubus, even one moving stealthily. In comparison, Angie must look like a small child.

  Char moved steadily forward, only pausing now and again to study the terrain. Every ten minutes or so, she stopped and waited for Angie to use her life-sense gift. Each time, Angie would note nothing more than small animals, rodents and the like—and there weren't even that many of them, the wildlife no doubt aware of the beast's presence.

  After another few blocks, Char motioned Angie closer. "Try again," she whispered.

  Angie closed her eyes and cast out her senses. This time, she immediately felt something—something very large and disturbingly near. When her eyes flashed open a moment later, Char’s posture stiffened in alarm. Angie pointed to the intersection ahead of them, filled with burned-out automobiles and buses, now partially submerged and overgrown with grass and moss. Char set her stance wide, holding her staff before her with one hand while the other reached into the pouch on her belt where she had placed the talisman earlier. They heard the scrabbling of claws on metal, and Angie's fear spiked. Her fingers clumsy with nerves, she inserted one of the hypodermic darts into the air gun, locking the breech closed before raising the weapon to her shoulder.

  A huge shape leaped onto the roof of a burned-out car, the metal screeching under the impact. Angie’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  And then Char pushed the barrel down. “No.”

  Sitting atop the wreck, watching them, was a massive black-maned lion. But it was an actual lion, not a were-beast. The lion purred, sounding more like a small generator and sending a primal shiver of fear down Angie's back.

  "Hello, Isikhulu," Char whispered.

  Angie knew this beast. It was from the pride that lived i
n the ruins. Isikhulu, a Zulu word for prince, grunted in reply to Char's welcome. Although she had never heard her speak it, Angie was pretty sure Char could speak Zulu. She spoke a remarkable number of human languages. "I don't suppose you've seen the intruder, have you?" Char asked the lion in English.

  Isikhulu's response was almost a bark. He groomed a massive paw with his equally large tongue, then spun about and leaped away, loping into the ruins to the west.

  "What ... what did he say?" Angie asked.

  "Say? Nothing, daughter. He is a lion. But he knows there's another predator in his territory and is studiously avoiding a confrontation." She smiled, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow. "Isikhulu is many things, but he isn't a foolish young cub. He knows this beast is unnatural and therefore dangerous." She considered her surroundings and then pulled a small matting of black fur, so small Angie had missed it entirely, away from the twisted remains of a shard of metal that jutted out from one of the wrecks, sniffing it before dropping it.

  "The were-beast?" Angie asked.

  Char shook her head. "Ephix. She's ahead of us. She always was the better hunter."

  "Is it wise to get in her way?"

  Char snorted. "Never, but we must. There is something unusual here, and I hate to kill what I don't understand. Come. If Isikhulu goes west, we go east."

  Angie would have preferred to follow the lion.

  Just after noon, Char brought Angie to the ruin of an old bulk-foods warehouse, now barely recognizable. There'd be little of value within the ruins, Angie knew. After the power went off—thank you, dragons—the starving populace had eaten everything within the cities, including most of the pets and vermin. Now little more than the concrete walls of the warehouse remained, the corrugated steel roofing collapsing in many places. The entrance doors had long since fallen away, revealing a darkened interior, lit only by beams of sunlight stabbing through the broken roof, showing long rows of empty shelving units. A foot of brackish water flooded the interior. Grass, weeds, and moss grew wild over the shelving units and long-abandoned cash registers. The sweet stench of rot and mildew hung in the air.

  Char knelt on one knee before the entrance and ran her fingers over a dark, glistening stain on the broken slabs of concrete. Blood, Angie saw, fresh blood. Had Ephix wounded the beast already? Was it dead? Char brought two blood-covered fingertips to her nose and inhaled, her eyes widening in shock a moment later.

  "What?" Angie whispered.

  "My sister's hurt. Please, use your gift again."

  Angie stared at the blood, her mind reeling with the implication of something so dangerous it could harm Ephix.

  "Angela," Char repeated, more strongly this time.

  Angie shook herself and closed her eyes, concentrating on her surroundings. Birds, small rodents, insects, nothing larger—wait, there, she realized, focusing on a life force she had almost missed within the warehouse. Something was alive near the rear of the darkened warehouse—a dark aura she knew all too well. Vampires weren't dead, but their life force was different from most other Fey and vastly different from that of humans, but even vampires didn't have auras that dark. Opening her eyes, she looked to Char. "It's Ephix. I think she's hurt."

  Char drew her rapier and held the gleaming weapon in her left hand, her staff in her right. "Courage, daughter," she said, stepping into the ruined warehouse. "She'll need our help."

  Angie followed closely, her instincts screaming at her to run the other way. Adrenaline flushed through her, heightening her senses. She saw more clearly in the dim light than she should have, heard water drip from the broken ceiling.

  Well inside, surrounded by rows of fallen shelving units, Char stopped, sniffing the air again. Rusted-out shopping carts lay scattered about. "I smell blood. Watch my back."

  Char turned slowly in a circle with her staff extended before her. She’s casting another spell. The air crackled with eldritch energy, and Angie saw bloodstains glowing softly through the filthy water near Char's boots.

  "Ephix?" Angie whispered.

  Char shook her head. "Not this time. It would appear my sister has wounded the beast as well. Which way?"

  Angie closed her eyes and concentrated, once again seeing Ephix's dark aura in her mind. She pointed to their left, behind fallen shelves. "That way, not far."

  "The beast?"

  Angie shook her head. "Only Ephix. It must be gone."

  "Or you can't sense it."

  That was a much more terrifying thought.

  Char, her staff and rapier extended before her, led Angie on, barely making a sound as she stepped through the water. On the other side of the fallen shelves, they found a large, dark form lying on its side, breathing weakly. Ephix.

  In her lamia form, Ephix was much larger, hundreds of pounds of muscle and bristling black fur and snakeskin. Huge black horns sprouted from her forehead. Her head remained that of a woman with long dark hair, but monstrously so, with narrow snakelike eyes, large pointed ears, several-inch-long canines, and scaled skin. Dark black fur covered her back, powerful legs, and forearms, both tipped with massive claws with inch-long talons. Scales protected her chest and torso, but something had ripped past the scales, injuring the Fey, and blood seeped from the wounds. Angie noted blood covered her claws as well. Ephix had given as well as she had taken.

  Char knelt beside her sister, laying down her rapier long enough to examine her wounds. She placed her horned head atop Ephix's scaled chest and listened to her heart, if she had one.

  "Will she..."

  "She'll live, but she'll need blood and soon."

  Not a transfusion, Angie knew, but blood to drink. Ephix had much in common with her vampire kin. Lamias were the true source of many vampire myths, and Ephix was very old, claiming she could remember the Inquisition before the Fey cast their sleep spell on humanity. One of the most persistent legends stated that lamias could hunt and kill their prey in their dreams, a tale that Char pointedly refused to deny. Angie stared at Ephix, finding it hard to believe something could defeat the source of so many of her childhood terrors. She recognized the stirrings of panic and glanced from Ephix to Char and then the tiny, near-useless air rifle she held.

  "We need to get out of here, right now!"

  "Be brave, daughter. For Ephix's sake."

  Never in her lifetime had Angie imagined she'd need to be brave for Ephix, the most dangerous creature she could imagine, but she nodded, her breathing rushed, and tried to control her galloping heartbeat, to calm down before she hyperventilated.

  Char rose and picked up her rapier once more. "Try your gift again. See if—"

  A nearby shelf exploded into shards as a monstrously large form burst through—the were-beast, and this time she saw it clearly as it staggered into a beam of sunlight. It walked upright with a man's genitals and outrageously muscular torso covered in sleek black fur. Its head was that of a predatory jungle cat, its eyes shining like green emeralds. It hesitated, opening its massive jaws to hiss, exposing two very large canines. Blood seeped down its chest from the gashes Ephix must have made. Angie froze, petrified; no wonder Isikhulu wanted no part of this beast. It staggered forward, almost falling.

  Angie stared at the wounds. It must be mad with pain.

  "Be ready, daughter," Char said, placing herself between Angie and the beast.

  The were-beast charged, shooting forward faster than Angie would have thought possible. But before it could smash into Char, she flapped her wings and flew back, moving out of the beast's path. Roaring in outrage, the were-beast spun as Char struck down with her staff, slamming it onto its shoulder with bone-jarring force. When her staff hit, the air cracked like thunder, and the beast flew away from the impact, rolling along the water and smashing through more debris. It rose, its eyes gleaming as it prepared to launch itself again.

  This time, Char extended her staff forward, and the air thrummed with magic. Before the beast could move, snakelike vines shot out of the water, wrapping around its torso. Th
e were-beast screamed in outrage, its roar shaking through the empty warehouse. It ripped vines free then used its canines to bite through others, but for every vine it tore loose, Char sent two more to hold it. In moments, a dozen vines held the beast in place, several around each powerful leg and arm, as well as others wrapping around its torso and neck. And still the beast fought.

  "Now!" Char yelled. "I can't hold it much longer."

  Surprising herself, Angie brought the air rifle to her shoulder, aimed over its scoped sight, and fired. The weapon jerked as the air canister sent the dart flying forward, but the beast thrashed at the last moment, and the dart embedded itself in a vine wrapped around its belly.

  Angie fumbled for another dart from the canister, cursing herself, as the beast ripped free of the vines. It came at Angie this time, bounding impossibly fast, water spraying.

  "Run!" Char yelled.

  It was too late, Angie knew. The thing was going to crush her. But at the last moment, the beast swerved away, fumbling and falling over itself into a tumbling ball, rolling through the water and knocking down a portion of corrugated steel wall that stood nearby. It avoided me on purpose! Part of the ceiling fell in upon it, and Angie thought for a moment the beast must surely be crushed. But a second later, the debris flew away as the monster jumped back to its feet, screaming in anger. Angie inserted the new dart and closed the weapon's breech with a snap. The beast tensed, ready to charge once more.

  Char flew forward, landing in a splash in the water between Angie and the monster, but she had dropped both staff and rapier and held instead only the flimsy talisman shaped like a dream catcher in both hands. The beast's angry head swept from Char to Angie and then back to Char. It snarled. Magical energy pulsed outward, radiating from Char.

  It took a wobbly step toward Char but then froze. Its green eyes narrowed.

  And then it began to change, its body altering, shrinking. The were-beast fell forward onto all fours, lifted its head, and cried out in a roar that sounded both angry and confused. The glistening black fur shrank in on itself, leaving only bare skin behind. The claws became hands and feet. The head throbbed and shrank and became that of a man. In seconds, in place of a were-beast was a man, tall and well formed, with long dark hair plastered to his face by the water. He stared in confusion at Char and then fell forward with a splash and lay still.