Everyone turned and pointed their guns and gazes at me. Well—in my general direction. Evidently Mitsuri-the-damned-ugly was the only one that could see me. And why now? Why not yesterday? What was the difference?
“The same one you detected in Hirokumi’s office?” Rollins said, even as he started climbing up on his desk (Where the hell is he going? I’m not a mouse!).
Now I knew who the informant was. And it wasn’t me! Maharba wasn’t Rollins.
I figured I’d do my happy dance later. Right now I just wanted to cuss.
A lot.
“Yes, it’s the same one.” Mitsuri took a couple of steps toward me. I took a couple of steps back. “But who summoned such a creature?” She cocked her head to the right. “And for whom does your presence spell doom, Wraith?”
“Fuck that,” Rollins said. I arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t care. Kill it.”
“Shame on you! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” The Reverend’s eyes widened.
I have GOT to stop doing that. I have a very distinctive voice. Rollins started jumping up and down. “I heard it! Stop it. It’s been listening to us.”
My cue to motor.
Mitsuri lunged at me then. Not the familiar run, jump, and pounce lunge. But more like this weird spring into the air, float there, and then pounce on me kind of thing. In Swan Lake—primo move.
After me, scary as shit.
I hissed and sidestepped her, running around behind the Reverend’s desk. I needed to get out of her line of sight long enough to give my silver cord a bit of concentration. Times like this I reeeeally wish’d I could just teleport.
Oh, I think I’ve said that already.
Don’t let my witty banter fool you—I was scared shitless. Oh, maybe not as afraid as I was with Trench-Coat. There was something about him that frightened me down to my … well my soul I guess.
This creature was somehow a lesser thing in comparison. Like the two thugs Beckett and Tiny, who were now swinging their guns around the room and shouting. The Reverend jumped from his desk and ducked behind it a few times when his minions’ aim threatened him.
As I came around the back side of the room, Mitsuri closed in from my left, its arms out wide as if to give me a really, nice cozy hug.
No way José. I ducked. It flew by overhead, missing me by an inch. As odd as it sounds, I could feel it. And it was cold. Freezing, frostbite, immobilizing cold. Ice bitch.
With a grunt, I did a tumble a four-year-old would be proud of and came up running again. Thank God for all those katas that evil sensei made me do! (The only reason I took karate was because it was supposed to make my butt look like J-Lo’s.) A jumble of palm trees in huge, terra-cotta pots gave me a bit of protection as I paused and looked around for the flying ugly.
Gunfire like rapid popping flared in the room. It whizzed by me and pinged against the window, shattering one of them into a bazillion pieces. Others slammed into the window frames and sent bits of wood and plaster dust everywhere.
This put me a bit on the sketchy side of fear. First thought was that a bullet really couldn’t do much damage to me—I’m astral—urh…as long as I don’t do that insto-flesho thing I did before with Daniel. Or could it? If I went corporeal, then got shot with a bullet, would it have any effect on my physical body? I really didn’t think now was the time for experimentation.
But how did they know where to shoot?
The second thought was immediately answered when I came up from my instinctual duck and saw the minions actually firing all over the place. One or two had gotten a lucky shot in my direction.
“Stop firing, you idiots!”
Well at least Rollins was sane. Firing at invisible Wraiths? That was just silly.
Or he wasn’t happy about having his palace shot all to hell. My vote’s on the décor.
Flying oogy was somewhere around the room’s ceiling. I grew still and concentrated on my body.
There was my cord, silver and pretty darned strong as compared to the other night when Trench-Coat was chasing me.
I felt the pull of my body and surrendered to it. In a few seconds I’d be home, slamming most painfully back inside.
I should have opened my eyes then.
I’m such a fool.
Just because one spooky oogy didn’t follow me back didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. It never occurred to me that Trench-Coat might have chosen not to hitch a ride back (still not sure at the time if something like that was possible) but actually could.
The pain was all too familiar but a comfort as I traveled the cord and slammed back into my body from sheer momentum. My chest arched up, pretty much looking like I’d been zapped with those paddles in the hospital. I gasped, opened my eyes.
And saw Mitsuri hovering above me. She grinned death at me with her lipless smile and empty eyes. My office was cold.
Freezer cold. I could see my breath.
Movement in my physical body was always a bit sluggish after a jump back like that. Have I mentioned this?
And it was even more exaggerated now than ever.
I screamed my freak’n head off as I tried to scramble off the bed. But Mitsuri was solid again now, and as I fell to the floor, she jerked up a handful of my hair and wrenched me nearly off my feet.
I was tossed into the opposite wall much the way someone tosses dirty laundry.
My scalp ached, as did those angles of my body that’d hit the wall and put dents into the drywall as I slammed on the floor. My radio came to life then with Enomine’s “Das Omen.”
She was in front of me, and I was shoving myself as far into the wall as possible. I was still seeing stars twirling about my head, but nothing will ever erase her ugly face.
Empty eyes peered at me and she cocked her head to her shoulder as if examining a bug. Her white-and-black-streaked hair, which now looked more like an affectation than reality, floated out above her head as if she were underwater.
Her powder white, thin, fuck’n ugly fingers reached out toward me.
“You bear the taint of the Archer. He has claimed you, yes.”
I gave her my best oh get a grip look. “What the fuck are you? And how’d you get in my house?” I was pressing myself farther back into the wall as she was coming closer. Of course I was going to lose if I didn’t do something because the wall wasn’t going to give.
And if it did, I was going to be in my bedroom.
So I did what any red-blooded, defense-trained straight white Latino female did when backed into a wall.
I punched her. I also gave her a string of really colorful metaphors when I did it.
I didn’t really expect to hit anything except cold air. Imagine my surprise when my fist connected with a sheet of ice.
I howled.
She howled.
But she moved back. I think it was the momentum from my own fear, squished into the size of my fist. I moved as quickly as I could and stood on wobbly legs.
I made it to the door and into the hallway toward the living room.
And then I felt her behind me. She tackled me from behind and sent me sprawling on my hardwood floors. My cat-suit made it feel and look as if I were on a Slip ‘n Slide as I put my arms out in front of me to stop myself.
I turned onto my back and saw her angling about in the air for another pass. What the hell was I supposed to do to get this bitch out of my house? Why weren’t the wards working?
And where the hell was Rhonda? She was supposed to be here when I got back!
Not that I was sure she could do anything against this thing.
I was sure there was some weirdo incantation or something, but I sure as hell didn’t know it.
I lifted myself up again and turned as she made another pass. With a scream I reached up and grabbed her hair and yanked back.
There! How you like that, you screaming oogy bitch!
You know, I had to wonder at that point if someone outside of these walls could hear both of us, or just me?
/> I pulled her to my right as I spun to the left. She went into, and then through, my couch, and I took off toward the front door.
Mitsuri came blasting out of my couch and tore through the air to block my path.
Fine.
I turned and ran to the kitchen.
It was then I noticed an odd rumble from somewhere. I thought at first it was thunder, especially when old Mitsuri came at me again from behind and whacked me in the back with something unmistakably solid.
The blow knocked the wind out of me, as well as took my balance, and I pitched forward into the kitchen on the tiles. I twisted as I slid and this time slammed my head into the nearest cabinet.
Oh, there were stars again, as before. And this time I’d hit it pretty damned hard. Things around me started to fade to black.
The rumbling came again and it sounded a lot like—
She was on me then, pulling me by my shoulders and hoisting me onto my back. I tried to hit at her again but my hand went through her. She’d somehow learned to duck back into the incorporeal at will.
There was ghastly pressure on my chest. She pressed bony knees into my ribs, making it harder to breathe. I glanced down and saw her actually melting inside of me!
“In flesh, you will be mine…”
Christ!
I screamed out again and fought—but there was nothing solid to grab hold of. Her fingers were on my neck, and I couldn’t breathe. My lungs, my chest, all were turning to ice, and I fought the urge to travel out of my body.
I wanted more than anything to escape my body. But I couldn’t concentrate. I was transported back to that night, into the cold, at the park, and the rapist was over me once again.
And as I felt the upper half of my body wrench free of my physical, Mitsuri’s shape changed again. There was nothing human about this creature! Those dark holes glowed with pinpoints of fire that flickered as smoke the color of midnight moved about her head in some garish semblance of human hair.
“Yes…come out of that flesh and play,” she said in a slithering, oily voice. It smelled like rotting meat left in the Southern August sun. Odd that I could smell and not breathe, eh?
I started to lose consciousness with the loss of oxygen and abruptly smelled sulfur.
Wow—I’m being choked to death and it smells like rotten eggs.
I managed to get my hands around her wrists, which had to be solid in order to strangle me. But it was no use. I was in an awkward position, on the floor, shoved into the corner between my stove and my sink. I yanked and I pulled and I kicked, until I couldn’t anymore.
I felt myself slipping away, though into unconsciousness or death, I didn’t know. I heard her voice inside my head. “Diiiiiieeeeeee…”
That message was swiftly accompanied by a really loud roar. Now—either I’d gotten a very large zoo-kitty at some point in my house—or that familiar noise was none other than…Mitsuri screamed.
The pressure around my neck vanished. I was no longer being choked.
I opened my eyes to see Red Eyes Big Fucking Dragon in my kitchen. It wasn’t quite the same wispy, smoky dragon that had tried to eat me the day before, but it was similar—in that it had really big teeth. And it had Mitsuri in his mouth. The bitch was kicking like crazy, her entire top half inside the thing’s jaws.
As I gasped for air, Mitsuri became a late-night snack. The screams were terrible. That thing was actually chewing her. I tried to move, to get out of its way. Would it eat me too? I was flesh, wasn’t I? I tried to turn to my side and succeeded, sort of. I think I was still flesh.
My head hurt. And I was tired. Fatigue overran my fight-or‑flight instinct at that moment, and I lay back on my kitchen floor. Oh, this was under protest, let me tell you. My subconscious was not happy and was trying to push me up and out the freak’n front door. I mean, come on, there was an eight-foot smoky dragon in my kitchen, eating a really ugly Lucy Liu. Did my physical self not see all the wrongs of this scene?
“Ho-lee-shit!”
Ah. I knew that voice.
Rhonda.
“Kid—I told you to wait at the door. Fuck—looks like she was attacked. Now get back and let me check the house.”
Okay—that voice I didn’t quite recognize. Male. Sounded nice. Man in the house! Alert the media.
And I was in no condition to thank the libido gods.
With effort, I opened my eyes, lifted up and onto my elbows. Rhonda was bent over me, the dragon behind her enjoying his snacky-poo. He could’ve been eating Cap’n Crunch for all I could see. Crunch, crunch.
Except for the shoe stuck between his teeth. Ew.
Rhonda’s eyes were wide. “Zoë, you realize you’re half-in, half-out of your body?” She whispered this.
I looked down. Ack! She was right. My body lay on its back, but my Wraith self was now halfway out, leaning up from the waist. Oh how weird was that?
I caught sight of a familiar, beautiful sideburned profile as it moved through the chomping dragon, gun extended.
Daniel.
Rhonda smiled. “Told you that artifact would come in handy.”
“Bitch.”
“Snot-nose punk.”
Dizziness replaced the fatigue. I felt disoriented and a bit out of control, as if I were being pulled back inside.
“Zoë…what’s happening? You’re fading,” Rhonda said as she took my physical hand.
I couldn’t answer her then. Both worlds, my physical and my astral, grew dark. I was falling backward through a very dark tunnel, and there was nothing for me to grab hold of.
16
“THERE…I think I saw her eyes flutter.”
“No, no—that’s REM sleep. She’s dreaming.”
“No, she didn’t go to sleep—she passed out. She’s unconscious.”
“So—what’s the difference? Asleep or unconscious?”
You know, even I didn’t know the answer to that. If you go to sleep, you’re in a state of slumber, relaxation. So, if you passed out or were choked into unconsciousness—are you not sleeping? In a sense?
What I did realize at that moment, through the rather silly interchange going on somewhere outside the world of my eyelids, was that my throat hurt. Someone had shoved some of those sticky, sweet-gum tree burrs down my throat as I slept—er, lay unconscious. No fair.
I tried to swallow.
Oh. Bad idea.
“…shit…” Oh, now saying that hurt even worse.
“Oh, now see? She’s awake. I don’t think unconscious people swear.”
No. But they bite if you don’t stop talking so freak’n loud. Chomp.
I also heard something else—a really annoying beeping noise. Had one of these faceless boobs turned on my alarm? Couldn’t they turn it off?
“…water…” Oh! A word! And not a swear one.
Mom would be proud.
“Water. Rhonda, get me that water—and a straw.”
Now let’s work on prying the eyes open. Something was pressed against my lips. I opened my mouth and recognized the straw. I swallowed. The water was cool and felt really good.
And I was incredibly thirsty. Like this was news over the past two days?
I reached up and took hold of the glass and did not stop drinking.
“Okay, out of her way. She’s up.”
And I was. I realized I’d sort of sat up to drink when I did open my eyes. The fuzzy images of Mom and Rhonda came into focus. They were standing to my right, just past this really weird-looking silver bar.
“Zoë honey,” Mom said, and she neared. “Let me prop the bed up. That’ll make it easier.” She tried to take my glass away. Uh-uh. Not having none of that. I grunted at her.
She did prop the bed up—she turned on the motor and my body bent at my waist.
That was when I realized I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, and certainly not in my bed. I was in a hospital bed, in a beige room, and there was a heart monitor just to the right of my head. Ah, the beeping thing.
There was also a tube in my right arm. IV?
WTF?
I ran out of water with a rude sucking noise at the end of my straw. Mom took the glass and I let her.
Sheet. Hospital gown. No underwear. “Wha…”—owch—“Where…are my clothes?” Wow, my voice had been scratchy before, now I really could give Stevie Nicks a run for her money.
“Maybe you shouldn’t talk,” Rhonda said. I wasn’t really happy with the expression on her face either. It looked like she’d seen a plate of brains.
Uncooked.
I put a hand to my throat. I was going to ask what happened—you know—jog the old noodle.
That’s when that damned memory of mine came back like a two-by-four to my head. I blinked as I flashed on Mitsuri’s eyeless face and her hands around my throat. Red pinpoints of flickering death.
“Zoë?” Mom was there again. She’d pushed Rhonda aside and had a hand on mine. I squeezed tightly as all the fear I hadn’t had time to express during the attack came careening back.
In spades.
I started shaking. Really bad. And Mom did the best thing she could have done. She hugged me. She put that damned bed guard down and got in bed with me and held me.
Okay. So maybe I’m too big for this kind of shit.
But have you ever been chased by a flying ugly bitch before? Nay, nay I say.
Mental note: get hugs from Mom more often.
“Well, well—I see our patient is awake now.”
I turned just as Mom did to see Dr. Maddox glide through the door. He wore one of those unflattering long white coats over a white shirt and bad tie.
Mom started to get out of the bed, but he put up a hand. “No—it’s okay, Nona. Zoë’s had a bad scare.”
“How long”—ow, ow, ow—“before my throat doesn’t…hurt?”
“Time will tell. You’ve got some nasty bruising.”
“Hell,” Rhonda piped up. “She’s got a red-and-purple choke collar going there.” She smiled. “It’s kinda cool. Sort of goes with the white hairs up there.”
Sheesh. I still had the white hair?
Dr. Maddox nodded. “The bruising will go away in a few days. Take it easy on speaking, okay Zoë, though I know that’s going to be difficult for you.”
Wraith Page 17
