by CM Raymond
Finally, she looked up at her teacher. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to stay here and keep practicing. My trip may take … Well, it may take a long time. But when I return, I need you to be as ready as possible. There is no telling what comes next, child. But whatever it is, it will not be safe.”
Without another word, the magician disappeared, leaving Hannah alone in the tower—for real this time.
****
Parker kept his head down as he paced toward Queen Bitch Boulevard. His bag was heavy with his tools, and the coin sack bouncing on his hip was evidence of a good day on the streets.
But, he knew it was only a fraction of the haul he could have pulled with Hannah. To say his thoughts turned to the girl wouldn’t be quite right. She was always there, at least in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help smiling just picturing her by his side.
Parker, like most of the guys in the quarter, thought she was good looking—but she had him with more than just her looks. Smart. Funny. Gifted. And if Will wasn’t bullshitting him about her magic, then her gifts were deeper than he had ever imagined.
And the young boy seldom bullshitted.
“Half your take, you little prick,” a gruff voice said.
Parker looked up into an ugly mug he didn’t recognize manning the toll booth into Queen’s Boulevard. “Who the hell are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is who I work for. Now hand over the toll and be on your way, you shit.”
“Where’s Jack?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. He’s probably back at your house shagging your ma. Now drop the coin and be on your way.”
Parker felt his face flush. He knew the man was trying to start something. Probably got his jollies off on throwing his weight around. Parker held his tongue and reached for his purse.
“Or he might be doing that sweet piece of ass you hang around with.” A disgusting laugh rolled off the man’s double chin. “Heard she has a thing for Capitol men, if you know what I mean. Nice of you to share her with the Hunters.”
Without thinking, Parker swung the bag of coins at the man’s thick face. But Horace’s man was deceptively fast. He ducked the punch and pulled Parker’s arm up behind him. The brute slammed him face-first against the wall. Rough bricks bit at his face as pain shot through his already sore skull.
“I oughta turn you in for even thinking about it,” the man breathed into Parker’s ear. “But lucky for you, I don’t feel like doing the paperwork. Now, let me lighten your load, and you can be on your way.”
He gave Parker one more shove against the wall and yanked the bag of coins from his belt.
“You’re a shit-eating pig,” Parker spat at the man. He considered a second attempt, but Horace’s men who ran the place were ruthless, and he knew that pushing his luck would have terrible consequences for him—and maybe his mother. The filthy words about his mother and best friend rang in his ears. He spat at the man’s feet.
The obese man snorted like a swine. “By the way, you can tell that piece of ass that the Hunters are looking for her. They've placed a price on her head, as commanded by the Chancellor. Or, you could always turn her in yourself. You probably need the coin.” The man shook Parker’s bag before stuffing it in his pocket.
Son of a bitch will get his, Parker thought. He would devise a plan to right the wrong, but first, he needed to find Hannah and warn her about the price on her head.
****
Her fingers twisted with increased intensity and speed. They were a blur in front of her own eyes. But she didn’t notice. Head thick in a trance, Hannah was connected more with her body than she’d ever been.
The practice was paying off, at least in terms of her focusing. Finally, folding the fingers of each hand into the other, she spun them out and fanned them toward the pile of papers across the room. The sheets pulled toward one another but stopped just short of a pile.
“Shiiiiiit!” she screamed into the empty room.
Sal ran from sight, sliding under the chair, the only furniture available. Hannah slumped into the chair and patted her leg. The dragon obeyed and jumped into his master's lap. His tongue lashed out and tickled her arm, aiming for comfort.
“Thanks, buddy. Guess I need to rest more. Those wings of yours have cost me something. That’s for certain.”
Sal rubbed his smooth head on her arm, and she gave him a pat.
“Yeah. We’ll be fine. Let’s see if I can’t get this down before you can fly over the tower. A little competition might do us some good.”
She was glad Sal was there, more so since Ezekiel had left on whatever important mission he was on. The man was full of secrets, and from time to time she even had a strange notion that he might not be exactly who he said he was. But the man offered something no one else ever had.
A way out of misery—for her and for Arcadia.
“Let’s go get something to eat. I’m—”
A scream from outside interrupted her. She shot for the great room and looked out the window in the direction of the cries for help.The distance was great, but from where she stood, she could see a person in a tree and some sort of animal, standing up on all fours, leaning against the trunk.
“Damn it. Sometimes I miss the filth of the city,” she muttered.
Ezekiel had told her to be careful. She suspected that he meant staying in the tower—but the man was all about making wrongs right. If she couldn’t help some wanderer out by shooing off an animal, she sure wasn’t going to take down the evil empire of Chancellor and Governor.
As she strode for the door, she grabbed the silver blade given to her by Karl and made her way to the edge of the woods.
Halfway to where the grass meets the forest, she thought she could make out what the man was shouting. Then she realized it was her name. The voice was familiar.
“Parker? What the hell?”
Joy mixed with a sense of fear for her friend. She couldn’t understand why he was treed by some stray dog. She’d be sure to call him a sissy when it was all over.
“No. Hannah, go back,” his voice wrapped around her and echoed off the tower. “Run.”
She ran, only toward him. None of this made sense.
Ten more strides further, and she saw the creature turn. That’s when it struck her. It was never leaning on the tree, instead, the thing stood on two legs. It tilted its head, sniffed the air, and let out a blood-chilling howl.
Lycanthrope, she thought. Can’t be. Those damned things don’t exist.
She’d heard the stories all her life, but like the tales of dragons and druids, she assumed these were also residents of make believe. The lycanthrope were sinister creatures that were a mix between a man and a wolf. It was said that they were descendants of the werewolves that roamed the earth before the Age of Madness.
The creature looked like it was a were turning back into a man, only to get caught in the in-between, frozen forever on two legs. Its long arms stretched toward its knees, culminating in razor-like claws.
Sniffing again, it took a step in her direction and paused. Hannah held her arms up. She considered casting. But with the magic fails she just experienced in the tower, she second guessed her ability to produce anything at all. She probably couldn’t even give the thing a good paper cut.
“Easy…” she cooed, hoping the thing was more animal than man.
It tilted its head back to Parker then returned to her.
“Guess we’re the easy prey,” she said to Sal, who had wedged himself between her legs. “Now’s the time for you to learn fire breathing. Think you can do that? Yeah, didn’t think so.”
Holding her hands up, she said, “We don’t mean you any harm.”
The lycanthrope let out a howl and bolted in her direction. Its humanoid form, mixed with the attributes of a common wolf, was terrifying.
“Shit,” she yelled. Scooping up Sal, she made a break for the tower.
The lycanthrope was swift.
There was no way she was going to make it to the tower before she was accosted by the beast. She cursed herself for falling into this position again, but something told her Karl wasn’t going to turn up this time. So, she changed tactics.
She turned downhill, taking advantage of the slope that ran into the woods off to the north. Maybe she could lose the killer animal. She spun through the trees and found a thick patch of underbrush.
“Come on, Sal,” she panted.
Her heavy breathing mixed with the panting of the animal on her tail. Pushing through the thicket, she burst into the open and found herself stumbling into the River Wren.
“Shit burger,” she cursed as she realized she miscalculated her trajectory.
The beast cut through the thicket just behind her. His mouth curled up in a snarl, baring yellow teeth made for shredding meat.
Hannah shifted Sal into her right arm and tossed him into the air in the direction of the closest tree. “Time to learn to fly, Sal.”
Flapping his wings like a wounded bird, the tiny dragon made it to a branch just out of reach of the lycanthrope. Hannah exhaled, knowing at least one of them would be safe. Then, it suddenly struck her as odd that her end might come, not in an act of avenging the evils done in her city, but in the jaws of a storybook animal.
“Just you and me, you mangy shit.” She pulled the knife from her belt, as the beast crouched for attack.
It leaped, and Hannah willed whatever power she could gather out through splayed fingers. The beast struck a wall of energy just before it reached the girl. It wasn’t enough to stop it, but it did throw the creature off balance.
The lycanthrope spun, hair, and legs, and arms, and tail in every direction. Hannah ducked and the animal flew over her, only to finally land in the river. Unfortunately, he landed in the shallow part. Hannah turned to face it. Running was futile. She knew the creature of the woods could outlast her if she did.
Spreading her legs to shoulder width, she spun her arms across her chest and drew fire from deep within. As the lycanthrope pulled itself from the current, she launched two balls of flame at it. Sizzling filled the air, accompanied by the smell of burning hair. The thing screamed but continued to advance. She didn’t have much left. It bore down on her, and she raised the rearick’s knife in defense.
The lycanthrope circled her, a predator with its prey. Before it could strike, a rock the size of the thing’s head flew in from out of sight and slammed into the beast.
“What the hell are you doing?” Parker screamed as he broke through the thicket. “Get out of here.”
“And let you have all the fun?”
“That’s my girl,” he grinned.
“I ain’t nobody’s girl,” she called back. “But I’m about to make this thing my bitch.”
She slashed at the dazed creature, slicing a line down the middle of its chest. Screams spread out over the river. It swiped a clawed paw at her, making purchase on her shoulder. Lines of anguish followed the razor-sharp weapons of the lycanthrope. Hannah could feel warm blood flowing down her arm.
It took another swing; this time Hannah was expecting it. She ducked and rolled to safety. Parker volleyed rock after rock at the thing. His throwing arm was better than his juggling, and he landed several projectiles. Letting out something between an animal's roar and the battle cry of a warrior, it rushed Parker, batting away rocks as it charged.
Hannah pushed everything out of her mind and reached for a peaceful state. Then she let go, brought back the fear and let it swell under her skin. With eyes glowing brighter red than they ever had, she screamed as she launched every ounce of power she could muster at the beast. Light shot from her fingers and struck the lycanthrope, flipping it ass over end. It landed hard in the dirt at Parker’s feet.
Her partner was ready.
A giant rock was raised over his head. With perfect aim, Parker brought the rock down with all the force he could gather on the creature's skull. Shattering bones and splattering brain filled Hannah’s ears.
Parker, not wanting to chance it, brought the rock down over and over, spreading the lycanthropes head all over the shore of the River Wren. Finally, when there was nothing left of it, Parker collapse on the sandy water’s edge.
“Parker,” Hannah screamed as she ran in his direction. She pulled him into an embrace. Pulling back, she held his face in her hands. “Holy shit. You good?”
“I think I’m pretty good. But did I see you throwing fireballs?”
Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. “Not bad, right?. Guess we made him our bitch.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It took several exhausting jumps for Ezekiel to head south toward the temple of the mystics. Transporting took a lot out of a magic user, and even one as skilled as Ezekiel couldn’t cross too great of a distance without taking breaks. But the long journey paid off, and after one final jump, Ezekiel appeared in the heart of the Heights—the large mountain range making up Irth’s southern border.
Steadying himself with his staff, Ezekiel got his footing on the rocky ledge of the mountain. Once steady, he slid down onto a rock. Just beyond the tree line, he could see the temple clearly while remaining obscured.
He had chosen the right spot. He had used this one years ago, the last time he had been to the Heights. Pulling his cloak around him, he took in the view.
The sun was dipping close to the front range. Its peaks, still snowcapped despite the heat of the summer, were turning red, blue, and purple. The Matriarch and Patriarch were painting an amazing welcome in the sky for the old magician.
He pushed his eyes further and watched range after range spread out behind the first. Although he’d spent plenty of time in the Heights, the view never disappointed. With a landscape as majestic as this, it was no wonder that the mystics were the masters of mental magic and had all but perfected meditation. But their art was not without its effects on them.
Residents of the Heights, while physically present on Irth, weren’t always fully there. They were known for their aloof nature and the way they sated the effects of their mental gymnastics with strong drink.
The jump had taken its toll, so he spent some time drawing his strength as he focused on his heart rate. The monastery wasn’t far, but it was better to go in strong. There was no telling what waited for him. After gathering enough strength, he got to his feet and started the short, rocky trek to the home of his old friends.
It had been decades since he’d last visited, but he remembered every turn of the path. Holding his breath, he made the final climb and then stood before the towering monastery of the mystics of the Heights.
The building was large, simple by design, but built with a welcoming air. The pale walls were like a blank canvas for the mystics to paint upon. Ezekiel knew that beyond this first building lay a sprawling compound of gardens, homes, and places for training.
He paused at the door, nervous to proceed. An image of Adrien rushed through his mind. One of his students had already fallen—the one he never expected to turn to self-aggrandizement and manipulation of the weak. The fear that the same may have happened with his pupil in the heights struck him like a rearick’s war hammer in the chest.
But he needed to know.
Pushing the fear out of his mind, he tapped the end of his staff on the tall, oak doors and waited for a response. The answer didn’t come quickly, but that wasn’t a surprise.
