Twisted Potions (Hidden Blood Book 2)

by Al K. Line

  I'd rain down bloody vengeance on the bastards that burned down my house and tried to kill me and my family. I'd roast them alive over a slow fire and peel their skin and watch as their eyeballs popped. I'd get sharp sticks and poke them in nasty places and roast marshmallows on the end and laugh as their dangly bits got all crispy. Stuff like that.

  My home, my beautiful, perfect—okay, we had a few problems from time to time, but it was ours—home. All gone. Just stuff, I know, but everyone needs a sense of place, somewhere they feel safe even if they aren't. Somewhere to be cocooned in warmth and light and love, and I needed that, it stopped me losing the plot entirely, giving in to the darkness. Now it had been stripped away from me and I was going to go nuts on whoever did this. Absolutely bat-shit crazy like they couldn't possibly imagine. You do not, ever, mess with me or mine. Ever.

  And where was the bloody Chemist? That was another thing that was getting right on my nerves. I'd been running around the city like a demented chicken with anger issues for days now, all because he took it upon himself to turn into this Elder creation. And if that wasn't enough, he'd set loose who knew how many ghouls that were part of him, his children, and they were running amok, destroying any semblance of peace that so many had fought so hard to hang on to.

  It was unacceptable, all of it, and I'd see it dealt with by the end of the day or die trying. Okay, not die, maybe get a broken nose or a few bruises, I had the baby to consider after all, but I was sick of this, so tired and exhausted by the chaos and the madness let alone what was happening to me that I was at the end of my tether and then some.

  My face hurt from frowning so much, my jaw was almost locked and I'd ground my teeth down to stubs that regrew as Delilah swooped down across barren fields then glided inches above the ground before stopping on the windswept terrain just above Hidden HQ.

  It took a minute to release my grip as my fingers were clenched so tight they were locked, and my thighs were incredibly sore from where I'd been gripping the scaly hide.

  The dragon turned her head on thick neck muscles and stared at me, then blinked once.

  "Thank you. And sorry about all this," I said, grateful for her help.

  Her head shot forward and she roared, a massive belch of flame burning away the grass for fifty meters. "You can bet on it. I'll roast them until they're nothing but ash."

  The dragon nodded then ran forward. She picked up speed then launched, wings beating lazily as she climbed higher, lost in the gray clouds within seconds.

  "Boulder Junior like flying now. Might get wings."

  "Shut up," I snapped, then strode down the slope toward the entrance to Hidden HQ.

  Annoyed and Dangerous

  Boulder Junior—it's all relative I suppose—strode with purpose to the secure steel door of Hidden HQ, pleased with himself for having accomplished his job and keeping me safe, even though he nearly killed me up in the sky, but I did the shimmer shuffle and beat him to it. I was not calm, I was not feeling better after getting some distance from everything and everyone. I was angrier than I'd ever been and felt sick thinking about the attempt on my life and the loss of everything.

  Locking my hands around the seal to the door, I yanked with all my might. Thick steel came away like I was peeling a banana.

  I threw it away and it clattered back up the path then slid out of sight.

  Standing on the other side, looking shocked and concerned, were Dancer and Persimmon.

  "Kate, what are you doing here?" asked Dancer. "And why did you break my door?" Dancer glared at Boulder Junior who stood to the side and saluted.

  "I brought Kate. Rode dragon."

  "You utter fool," scolded Dancer. "You were supposed to make sure she stayed safe, to look after her."

  "Is safe. See," he said, pointing at me like that was all that needed to be said.

  Dancer sighed and said, "Fine, get inside."

  The troll ducked his head, turned sideways, and shuffled away down the corridor, almost squashing several wizards in the process.

  "I'll rip all their bloody heads off and feed them to the goddamn ghouls," I snapped as I glared at the wizards inside in their stupid cloaks.

  "Calm down," said Persimmon. "What happened?"

  "Someone burned my bloody house down and tried to kill me, all of us."

  "I meant about that," she said, pointing to my belly.

  Glancing down, I wasn't surprised to note that it had grown again, and I felt something kick hard. Not something, my baby.

  Now, I should have felt all overcome with motherly instinct and chilled right out, focused on resting up and trying to figure out what I was going to do and where to buy baby clothes and all that stuff, but as pain jabbed at me from the inside and I swear I felt my hips drop or widen or something and my ligaments felt like they were being stretched to snapping point, I just got angrier. Beyond angry, I was apoplectic.

  Brushing my hair aside, I looked into Dancer's eyes and said, very quietly, "Get every wizard in there outside. Now. In fact, get every bloody wizard in the city here, right this bloody minute."

  Dancer darted a quick glance at Persimmon then looked me hard in the eye and said, "So it was wizards?"

  "Yes, it bloody well was, and this gets settled right here, right now. Today. If they don't come then I will use any means necessary to get them here. Tell them that. You know what that means. You know Oskari won't stand for this any more than you or I will. And what do you think Faz and Mithnite, let alone Grandma, are going to be doing in, oh, say the next hour if this isn't dealt with? This city will burn, Faz will run riot, the vampires will have an excuse to wage all out war on human Hidden bloody wizards, and if they don't succeed then I will kill every-fucking-one of them with my own hands. Get them here now."

  I may have raised my voice a little, and I may have been having a "moment," but I didn't care.

  Someone tried to kill my baby and I would see them bleed out this day or so help me I'd do something every supernatural creature in existence would shirk from in disgust.

  Yeah, pregnancy wasn't agreeing with me. Which is a shame. I've heard it's nice and you even get given presents. All I'd got was a burned body and a pile of ash where I'd finally felt safe and happy.

  A Wizardly Wakeup

  I didn't go inside, I didn't sit and cry, I didn't even ask for food and a drink, much as I'd have liked to. No, I strode up the steep bank and stood above the doorway on the scorched grass with the wind howling across the exposed field.

  My hair blew wild, my coat flapped, and I let my anger build until I was incandescent. Dangerous sparks of untempered magic fizzed, hissed, and spat off me. So volatile and savage that it burned what grass remained and melted through the lip of the steel supports that held the bank in place above the door until the sides gave way and soil and sod slid down partially blocking the entryway.

  What I mostly did was ignore what was happening below and around me. Instead, I searched inward, sought a place inside that would nurture my anger and keep the fire fueled, and it was oh so easy to find that place. Worryingly easy.

  My unborn child helped, and I grew fearful, for this child-to-be was just as incensed and outraged by the attempt on its life and the life of its mother and father as I was. Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt like it understood what had happened on some basic level. Maybe it was me passing the information on, emotions transmitting from my womb through the umbilical cord and flooding its system with the chemicals that bring about such a heightened emotional state.

  The child understood my pain and maybe even my guilt. My fears, frustrations, concerns, and definitely surprise, and he spoke to me, told me that everything would be fine, that he was fine, that he suffered no side effects because of my emotional state. He reassured me, confirmed that this was as it should be and a mother's wrath should know no bounds when it came to protecting her child.

  I don't know if any of this really happened or if I was looking for an excuse to be in such a state, an excus
e to remain this worked up, this homicidal, but it felt real at the time and still does now.

  I must have waited there for several hours, and when I finally left this retreat inside my body, my mind, my womb, my baby, it was to a background hubbub that filtered through into my consciousness. I can only describe it as a noise when too many people are trying to be quiet at once, the number of shushes and whispered scoldings through clenched teeth so numerous that the noise becomes a constant. A bloody annoying one at that.

  As the wind blasted me from behind, I raised my head, and for some reason I lifted my arms from my sides like a self-obsessed guru low on cash. Guess I had the flair for the dramatic and this time my drama worked.

  I took in the sight of what must have been well over a thousand wizards of all types, surprised by the numbers but still knowing this was but a fraction of the country's population. A reminder that there were myriad other magic users in the city, probably pleased they hadn't been summoned to this place by a young upstart of an enforcer who'd hardly been in the role for the blink of an eye.

  But they all shut up, and they all gasped, as I let my fury manifest.

  Make Em Gasp

  All my anger, my frustration, my bitterness, my sadness, my overwhelming fear, and my outright disgust with just about the whole world at this point, not to mention that I think my hormones had gone kinda wonky what with the rapid growth of the baby—that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it—purged in a terrifying onslaught that scared me senseless.

  It wasn't planned, I had no idea what I was about to do, but it was as though someone had opened a direct line from the Empty and I was merely a conduit. A very annoyed one.

  Energy not so much surged, as burst from my open hands in a single spectacular torrent that evaporated the water vapor stored above us in gray pockets. Dirty magic fat with menace spewed in all directions, and if I hadn't been up above the crowd then I'd have incinerated the lot of them. It was so fast, so harsh, so unexpected that I doubt many wizards would have had time to put up suitable defenses.

  The underside of the clouds boiled with a purple hiss of steam that turned orange then pure white as everything detonated into blinding light. A shockwave roiled over the heads of the gathered magic users, singeing the hair, beards, and ridiculous eyebrows of the old-timers, blowing off the hats of the younger ones. Tearing and howling through the unrepentant congregation, their clothes billowed and the ground they stood upon lifted in a Mexican wave of a rolling earthquake. The effect was duplicated above, and thunder boomed across the hills and valleys, only dissipating when it hit the trees that circled the compound where several toppled and the rest blew like in a hurricane.

  I stepped back, shocked by my power, fearful for what I'd done, but not exactly pleased to see that I hadn't merely obliterated the lot of them.

  "Who was it?" I shouted. My eyes turned cold, hard black, my teeth bled, incisors long, dripping the vampire's tear, and as I raised my hands again there was a collective gasp as everyone took a step backward and glanced fearfully at their neighbor.

  Several wizards put up defensive shields, others clapped with glee, but the overriding emotion was one of confusion mixed with awe. Nobody did stuff like this, nobody would dare challenge every wizard in the city. No matter how powerful they were, collectively the wizards could wipe the floor with any threat, little old me definitely included. But I didn't think of that, all I thought of was what had been done, and I would have my answers or there would be one hell of a price to pay.

  "Who burned my house down, tried to kill me, and tried to kill my baby? Tell me. Now."

  There were murmurs and mumbles, grumbles and endless questions as they talked amongst themselves. Most didn't have a clue what I was talking about, had come because Dancer told them to, and I had no way of knowing if this was all of them or nowhere near.

  "I'm warning you," I said, glaring at as many as I could.

  "Or what?" said a brash forty-something, who lifted a cocky chin and stared at me in defiance. Everyone close stepped away and he glanced around nervously but then squared his shoulders, jutted out his chest, and tried to stare me down.

  "Was it you?" I asked.

  "No, but you deserved it. Bloody vampire freak, using magic like you have the right. It's things like you that give us true masters a bad name. I bet your monster of a baby will—"

  My arm shot up and a jet of fury tore from my hand like a burning arrow. It pierced him right in his forehead. For a moment all was still, all was quiet, and then his head exploded like a watermelon whacked with a sledgehammer.

  After that the mood kind of changed, which is understandable. But I wasn't satisfied and I lifted my arm again. "Anyone else got something to say? Any more insults?"

  There were a lot of heads being shaken and several wizards quietly freaking out as they picked brain and bone from their shaggy beards.

  I whirled as I felt a presence beside me. Dancer.

  "You get one chance," he said, placing a calming hand on my shoulder as he addressed the crowd. "If you own up now you will be put out of your misery swiftly. But if I have to hunt you down, and hunt you down I will, then you will die the Death of the Damned, and you all know what that means. What that entails. So, what's it to be?"

  I had no idea what the Death of the Damned was, but the way he said it gave it capitals, so it had to be something despicable and something they all knew about.

  "It was his idea. It was him. Him," came a squeaky voice from the crowd.

  Heads turned and people stepped aside to reveal a short man in a smart, brown tweed suit. He had thinning mousy hair and a rather square head, red from stress and fear. This young wizard practically cringed as he pointed at a tall guy I'd never seen before. He scowled at the smaller man then confidently looked me in the eye. As our eyes locked I could tell, even from this distance, that what the other had said was true. And when I studied his tall frame, the set of his shoulders, the shape of his body, I knew he'd been one of the attackers.

  I searched those close to him but recognized nobody else, but that didn't mean some of them that had escaped weren't here somewhere, or hiding out.

  "You disgust me," said the tall man. He stood there, doing nothing, as if he was resigned to his fate, to accepting that his plan had failed and his life would soon be forfeit.

  Then something unexpected happened.

  A Messy Mashup

  "Can we talk?" came the distinctive voice of the Chemist.

  Switching my focus, I noticed a swathe of brown amassed behind the wizards. It writhed like worms in a bucket, thousands of ghouls with a clear circle at the center where only the Chemist stood.

  The wizards turned as one and shouts of abuse and scorn rained down in such a crushing onslaught of vitriol that I knew instantly what the outcome would be.

  Wizards shouted and accused him of endless crimes, some real, many imagined, but mostly it was personal, cruel, and shameful.

  Then it happened. One wizard let off a blast of magic that toppled twenty or so ghouls. Like a signal for battle to commence, many other wizards joined in.

  "I want to talk, to make things right. To be accepted," wailed the Chemist. Someone blasted a streak of purple fire at him and he was engulfed, but it fizzled and died and he stood there, unharmed, face a pitiful mask of despair. The Chemist shook his head in sorrow then whispered, "So be it," his words seemingly carrying only to my ears but that may have just been my imagination. He brought his arms forward in signal, and the ghouls rushed toward their attackers, heedless of their own safety.

  Just as my vented magic had created a ripple effect passing through the ground and the wizards themselves, so the reverse was now happening. From my elevated position, I could see wizards toppling from the back, falling into those in front who fired magic in anger only to then themselves be overrun by a tangle of brown creatures that swarmed over them like termites.

  One after the other they fell, and screams rose while they fought for their lives. Ma
gic boiled the air as energy drawn from the Empty was channeled then released. Soon the screams of wizards were joined by an unholy cacophony of anguished souls as they were blasted and beaten, then the noise grew intolerable as wizards paid for their thievery, collapsing when their magic was spent. They were overrun by a veritable horde of ghouls.

  A dark cloud seemed to follow the ghouls as they advanced and I understood it was their own stench, and what it attracted. The air was alive with millions of flies and other creatures drawn to these nightmarish visions, the pungent whiff of necrotic flesh they'd consumed and their own strange body odors impossible to resist. The ground writhed with all manner of wriggling, crawling things just as it had in the cave. Yet the Chemist's offspring were no longer children, they were all grown up and seemingly immune to fear of death.

  "Um, maybe this wasn't such a great idea," I ventured as I turned to Dancer.

  "You think?" he said, glaring at me.

  "I'll be right back." I moved to jump from the raised land down to where the action was but Dancer grabbed my arm in a monstrous grip and said, "Look." He nodded into the crowd and even though chaos consumed the scene I had eyes only for the tall man who had wanted me dead.

  A flash of black darted between the frantic wizards as they ran in all directions and put up their defenses. The panther weaved effortlessly like water flowing around rocks and then launched as the tall man was distracted by the growing tide of ghouls working its way through the thousand-strong throng of Cardiff's wizards.

  Persimmon in shifter form flew like a vengeful arrow and raked at his shoulders as she made contact, her hind legs scrabbling at his belly, tearing away clothes and flesh. Before he even fell he was disemboweled by the sharp claws. His shoulders were in tatters and she ripped at his throat, tore off a meaty lump and spat it aside. Then she was off, turning through the crowd and running back up the hillside to us.