by LE Barbant
Tim had been hurt defending the city that he loved.
It reminded Elijah of Brooke, and a sick thought came to his mind.
“What about my blood?”
They stared at the historian like he had just proposed sacrificing a goat to the gods.
“Elijah…” Willa started to say before being cut off.
“Chem, you’ve been working on that serum of yours for months. You have to have made some progress by now.”
The chemist shook his head. He lacked any of his usual confidence. “It’s impossible, Elijah, at least for me. I’ve tried everything, but I’m as far from understanding it now as I was when I started. I can’t make it work…unless…”
The chemist looked directly at Willa. Cat jumped to the floor as she rose from her chair. “What can I do?”
****
Chem and Willa headed for the basement, which left Elijah standing, accompanied only by Tim, who remained unconscious, and Rhett, who sat easily in their worn-out leather recliner. Cat made himself at home on Rhett’s lap.
For some reason, that made Elijah madder than anything else that had happened today.
“You’re gonna burn a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Rhett said, deeply petting the orange feline.
Elijah realized he was pacing and moved to sit, but then suspicion halted him in his tracks.
“How do I know you’re not mind-controlling me?”
Rhett rolled his eyes, the gesture accentuated by his perfectly shaped eyebrows.
“I told you it’s not mind control. And you’re on guard, which severely hampers my abilities. I didn’t mention it at first, but by explaining myself, I cut my knees out from under me…supernaturally speaking. Your poet friend, for example, she’ll never trust me again, which means I can’t influence her—at least not much. It’s the biggest difference between Paul’s and my abilities. Once I prove what I can do to someone, I can pretty much never do it again. Once he demonstrates his insights, it’s hard to ignore future warnings.”
Rhett watched the cat lick its paws. Elijah wondered who these brothers really were. Something didn’t add up, and Elijah assumed part of the story was left untold. The historian moved to sit, still worried that Rhett had used some sort of reverse psychology voodoo to manipulate him.
“You keep mentioning your brother’s foresight. Could he help us figure out what to do next?”
“I wish it were that simple. His insights are sporadic and woefully vague. When he talks, it’s like listening to an artist explain a project before they’ve started. To the untrained ear it makes no sense. But once you see it for yourself, everything clicks into place.”
“Like the allegory of the cave.”
Rhett snapped his fingers, making the cat jump. “That’s exactly what it’s like. Plato had my brother in mind when he told that story. Paul’s been to the other side, he’s seen the light. And you and I are chained in the basement, trying to make sense of his ravings. He sounds like a fool, but we’re the fools if we ignore him. You have siblings, Elijah?”
“Yeah, a sister. Don’t see her much. She lives in Des Moines.”
Rhett smiled and leaned toward the historian. “How would you feel if she was always right?”
Elijah laughed, and then regretted it. “She always thinks she is.”
“Well, my brother always is.”
Elijah caught something wash across the man’s face, but he couldn’t place the emotion. “I wish he could shed some light on our current predicament. These guys have wreaked havoc on my neighborhood, and now they have our friend. I don’t know who they are or what they’re up to, but we have to stop them.”
A buzzing sound interrupted Elijah. Rhett pulled an iPhone out of his tailored pants.
“Shit,” he said, looking at the screen. “It may already be too late.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“I’m glad you’re back,” Chem said, not looking up from the desk. “At least in body.”
He laid out vials and an assortment of bottles that Willa vaguely remembered from high school chemistry, though she couldn’t name them if she tried.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know. You’re here, but not really. I can see it in your eyes. You’re on a mission that transcends all else. Hell, I mean I don’t care. Nobody’s going to confuse me for the Good Samaritan.”
Willa dragged a stool to the table, giving Chem enough room to work his magic. “I’m here. But I need to make some things right first.” She felt her chest and throat constrict. “They took everything from me, Percy. Those people need to pay,” she croaked, holding back tears.
Chem gently placed the beaker on the table. The severity in his eyes seemed so out of place. “I know you believe that. But say you settle the score—take these guys out. It won’t bring your family back.”
“Might not bring them back, but I’ll feel better.” Forcing a smile, she said, “I’ll be OK. But it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you guys. Now, what the hell is going on down here?”
Chem turned back to the tools of his trade. “I’ll lay it out in freshman chemistry terms. Try to keep up, OK?”
“You’re still an ass.”
“Thanks.” He grinned. “So, we know that my enhancement of E’s blood works, but it works a little too good.”
“Well.”
“Bite me.” Chem laughed. “It works too well. The stuff turned Elijah’s little hottie into a badass bitch.”
Willa’s stomach churned at the mention of Brooke Alarawn.
Chem continued. “But it obviously messed with her mind as well. Elijah had his ‘passenger,’ or whatever he calls it, to help him, but the transformation is too much for the average human. So I figured, if we could reduce the power, maybe we could still use my serum to increase strength without it going full-on Hulk. I was working with benzene. Just think of that as an additive that will allow the catalyst, but hold back the crazy bitch shit. But once I started introducing the stabilizer, it ruined the change element. I can’t have one without the other, but if I have both, I got nothing…have nothing.”
“You need the compound to make someone super, but not super-crazy.”
“A+, young lady.” Chem scratched his days’ worth of scruff. He looked different. Lines around his eyes seemed to have deepened since she had seen him last. His new life was taking a toll. This was a new normal. “I’m at a roadblock. I’ve tried all sorts of shit, but I can’t get these little guys to turn without going all crazy.” Chem nodded to a cage with two fat rats lounging in the corner.
“Hold on. You’re making molten metal mice?”
Chem chuckled. It was good to hear him laugh. “Nah. The compound from Elijah’s blood doesn’t work like that. I’m not sure, but it’s like McDonald’s.”
“McDonald’s?”
“Yeah, you know, ‘you want to super-size that?’ This stuff takes a thing’s propensity and makes it, well, super.”
“So why is Elijah a metal fire monster?”
“You gotta remember, he didn’t start with any injection, he was—well, we’re not really sure what happened to him yet. But Elijah’s one of a kind. The compound made from his blood doesn’t make a thing into him, but it enhances propensities unique to the host. Weird, right?”
“Very weird. So, what are you trying next? I mean, for a stabilizer?”
“You.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know you haven’t just been working on those guns all summer.” Chem nodded at the lean, muscular arms exposed by Willa’s tank top. “Nice, by the way. Do you have a spell that can effectively calm someone down?”
“That was one of my first. A simple one.”
“Well, I’m thinking maybe you can apply that to my compound. It’ll become the stabilizing agent in this little brew here.” Chem tapped the glass with the end of his pen.
“I don’t know, Percy. I usually only use my spells on people.”
“But i
s there anything that says you couldn’t?”
Willa smiled. “I’m sure the Guild would have something to say about that, but they’ve all but left me alone so far.”
“The Guild?”
“It’s kind of like the American Medical Association, but for magicians. We have rules, you know, and they’re a bit more stringent than the Hippocratic Oath.”
“I’m not exactly on the AMA’s Christmas card list.” An authentic smile spread across Chem’s face. “Listen, we need that half-dead guy on the couch upstairs. And frankly, I think he needs us. He shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place—I’m surprised that rabid trashcan on steroids didn’t finish him off. The thing about Elijah’s blood is that it not only makes him into a metal monster, it also sustains him. Sure, he’s beat up, but not as bad as he should be.”
“So, you’re thinking if we can get the compound right it could actually work to heal your friend.”
“That’s right—with potential side benefits.”
Willa inspected the fluid in the glass containers. She found it hard to believe that something so powerful could look so mundane. “I think I have the perfect spell. Let’s try it. What could it hurt?”
“Well, for one, Tim. And if he changes and goes ape-shit, us. But other than that, nothing. We’ll try a small dose first.”
Chem filled a syringe. He held it up to the light, peering through it. “I did dilute it for this mix. Even if he isn’t stable, it won’t have the same effects as it had on Brooke. It’ll just make him a little crazy.”
“Not sure if that’s comforting.” Willa took the vial. Her training these last few months took her down darker paths than she had previously traveled. And that brought her into contact with spells her grandfather would have heartily disapproved of. His posthumous criticism, and the fact that it was a rogue serum like this one that led to his death, should have given Willa pause. But her mind was focused on one thing. And if Chem’s abomination and the broken man upstairs could help her achieve vengeance she was willing to try it.
She closed her eyes, and started chanting—focusing the words toward the liquid. She felt out of sorts, directing a spell at an inanimate object, but anger gave her confidence. Her attunement toward the spell meant everything.
“Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and caldron bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of a newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.”
Willa opened her eyes. There was no visible change in the liquid, but the poet felt power coming out of her.
She knew that it had worked.
“Done,” she said. “Just one problem. Spellcraft is a temporary affair. You’re going to have to make more of this stuff. I mean, I’m not sure what it does to physical things that aren’t human, but that spell would only work on you for thirty minutes, maybe an hour.”
Chem nodded, then looked at the syringe. “Damn. Would it help if I added some eye of newt?”
“Funny. Now let’s see what happens up there.” She nodded toward the stairs.
****
Willa climbed the basement stairs and found Elijah and Rhett in heated discussion. Part of her was worried that they were fighting again.
Part of her wanted to jump in on the action.
Powers or no, she couldn’t believe Rhett had influenced her so easily. His manipulation began to fray when Elijah confronted her for bringing him here, and it snapped completely when he explained how he had used his persuasive power to bend her to his will.
Staring at him, she couldn’t help but think of Rizzo’s face as she tortured him. The same spell played on her lips, ready to be used if she had the chance.
Her desire to hit him scared her, but only a little.
“Willa, Chem, you guys need to see this. Show them the video.”
Rhett handed the phone to Willa, but she ignored it, walking past him to a love seat. Chem grabbed it instead and sat next to her. The phone was open to a website labeled www.MonsterTruth.Com. Chem pressed play, and the screen came to life. It was a video, similar to the one taken on Mount Washington last winter. A large creature that looked like Elijah stomped around, leaving extra potholes in a Pittsburgh street. Willa looked closer and saw that his movements were different, stiffer. As the video progressed, she realized that this thing was fighting the real Elijah. He was hard to make out in the dim lighting, but she recognized the disfigured arms, and Elijah was wearing the same blue shirt he had on now.
“This was taken today,” she said.
“That’s what Tim and I were doing when you two were making yourselves at home here. That’s what we’re up against. But it gets worse.”
Elijah grabbed the phone and loaded another video. This time it was Mayor Dobbs, and he stood behind a podium on the steps of city hall.
“The evidence is clear. Something is terrorizing our city, and I won’t stand for it any longer. I’m instituting Emergency Order Number 42. We are encouraging anyone with knowledge of these creatures to come forward. Anyone caught helping them will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. I’m authorizing our officers to take lethal action against them…”
“This is some real Adolf shit, right here,” Chem said, looking up from the screen. “The man just declared war on monsters—which, if I’m not mistaken, is you guys.”
“Maybe you too,” Willa added. “Guilt by association’s a bitch.”
Rhett cleared his throat. “No one’s going to like hearing this, but it’s my fault. Well, at least partially.”
“You better start talking, pretty boy,” Chem said.
Rhett cut a glance at Elijah as if trying to take his temperature. No matter how much trouble he might be in with the others, Elijah could talk them down.
“My brother and I were drawn here—like I said, he has that power. With all of the news about the monsters, we thought that we were brought here because of them. Every time we’re drawn someplace, it’s for a reason. Monsters just made sense. Once I was brought onto Dobbs’ staff, it only made sense to kill two birds with one stone. Get rid of the monsters and get the Mayor reelected.” Rhett paused and watched the group. “I didn’t know that some of the monsters were heroes.”
“Wait,” Willa said. “You what?”
Rhett grinned. “After Vinton was murdered, they Mayor and I planned our approach around these attacks. We knew it was only a matter of time before another incident occurred. And, unfortunately, it looks like the plan’s working perfectly.” The man paused. Willa wasn’t certain if he was ashamed or proud. “Dobbs is using fear for political leverage. Voters are going to eat this shit up. We had this speech already planned weeks ago.”
Willa’s eyes narrowed on the speechwriter. “If it wasn’t for your damned meddling, I could have stopped all of this already.”
Rhett gave a subtle shrug.
Elijah placed his hand on Willa’s shoulder, which offered a modicum of comfort. “We need to figure out what to do now. We can’t just walk in there and take him down. I’ll get shot on sight. And Rita’s still out there somewhere.”
Chem nodded. “Not to mention those two metal suits could show up again. How did they know where we were?”
Willa sat fuming. Chem leaned near Tim, checking his pulse and recording it in his notebook. It seemed like he was going to go ahead with his formula, regardless of the consequences. Rhett sat, unconcerned as ever, with her cat at home on his lap.
Elijah stood behind her. His sympathy was appreciated but he couldn’t understand what she was feeling. Rizzo and Dobbs and even Rhett had all taken advantage of her, had used her and her family for their own gain. No amount of training could give her back what they took, control over her
life.
She only knew one thing that might. And with or without their help she was going to do it.
“Guys, I have an idea,” Elijah said. He took his hand off her shoulder and stepped toward the center of the room. Lowering his voice, he whispered, “But we shouldn’t talk about it here. Let’s go get a drink and I’ll explain everything.”
PART THREE
I will read ashes for you, if you ask me.
I will look in the fire and tell you from the gray lashes
And out of the red and black tongues and stripes,
I will tell how fire comes
And how fire runs far as the sea.
“Fire Pages,” Carl Sandburg
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The smoke eater and air conditioner in Gene’s Place buzzed in harmony. King had ducked into the dive to catch a break from the late-summer humidity. The joint was predictably quiet for a Tuesday afternoon during the first few weeks of the semester. Diligence still reigned in the students’ minds, and they’d lay off day drinking for a few more weeks.
King’s Nikes made the sound of someone ripping packing tape off dirty tile as his feet stuck to the floor. It hadn’t been thoroughly washed since Jesus himself walked the earth. Third stool from the end of the bar—his normal residency—was empty and waiting.
“Hey, King.” The bartender nodded.
“What’s up, Pete?” Dark rings of sweat haloed King’s t-shirt around the neck and extended out from his armpits. He’d lived in Pittsburgh his whole life, but never could get used to the humidity. “Can’t wait till the weather breaks.”
Pete slid a cheap draft and a dark shot in front of him. “A few months and everyone’ll be bitching about the snow and cold. Like clockwork.”
“At least some things are reliable,” King quipped.
He grabbed the shot while his friend poured his own. “To the four seasons,” the barkeep said, raising his shot glass.
“Hear, hear,” King replied, slamming the medicine back with a grin. “And now for the cool-down.” The icy mug almost hissed as King pressed it against his forehead.
