Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Dear Haebeth, what a day. Even though I'd risen before sunrise to travel here, jumped off a train, healed Del at the twitchers’ hang out, and fatigue dragged at my limbs, I couldn't sleep. I relived every word Glynn and I spoke to on one another, grimaced at all the words I could have said and didn’t. Glynn and his men must be close to massing at Westmead Station by now. He'd know Del and I disobeyed him and continued the search for Aidan.

  He'd be worried and angry—so angry. If we found him, would he even want to talk with me?

  Cold air brushed across my face. I must've dozed for a short while. I swung my legs to the ground, wobbling as I stood.

  "Time to leave." Liliwen hung in the air before me. "Take a moment to steady yourself. You'll need your wits about you."

  One of the soldiers handed me a welcome cup of water. He walked straight through Liliwen—I guess he didn't see her.

  Two living dead met me at the gate and led me back to the main cavern. We joined another seven undead, everyone pulling on vests with bulging pockets. The vests looked the same as the ones worn by Glynn and Del when we left Del's house. Maybe the pockets were bulging with weapons they'd taken from the soldiers they'd imprisoned?

  This diversion group believed in packing weaponry like Del. I sucked in a deep breath. This could get messy.

  "You are armed." I stated the observation aloud.

  One of the group, a confident and natural leader, shared orders with the rest. She stopped and turned to face me. "Of course we are armed. We will try to create a diversion. But if that fails, we are prepared to do battle."

  Two spirits, one quite solid, the other as transparent as Liliwen, hung at the edges of the group. I waited a little distance from them. Their wariness rippled over me in probing waves. They weren't sure of me; I wasn't sure of them either. After a few minutes, Owen joined us. He nodded to the leader, and she gave a small salute in return. Perhaps she'd been part of the Armed Forces in her previous life. Perhaps they both had. Instinctively I angled myself away from him. He hadn't said anything about his previous life, and I hadn't asked.

  "Get her a vest." Owen pointed at one of the men. He gave orders as briskly and confidently as Glynn.

  Someone shoved an army vest into my hands.

  "I don't need this—"

  "Put it on. You aren't bullet-proof." Owen's voice held a hint of amusement. "And get that white lab coat off—we don't need to advertise our presence."

  Imitating the leader, I gave him a stiff salute as I wriggled out of the coat. I adjusted my satchel so it rested against the small of my back, wriggled into the too-big vest and zippered it shut. No, I wasn't bullet-proof, but hopefully no bullets would fly this time.

  My pulse pounded in my ears. How would Glynn react? How would Owen's group react when they encountered Glynn’s squad? In the dark tunnels, everyone confused and scared, we could all be dead before I got a chance to talk with him.

  Deep in my own thoughts, I almost missed the signal to move. We marched to the back of the cavern. Another corridor took us to a roughly hewn tunnel and a set of narrow stairs leading up into blackness. Owen signaled for me to go ahead of him. I pressed my hands against the walls on either side, and climbed one step at a time until we arrived at a landing. Thankfully someone grabbed a lantern from a hook on the wall and lit it. Silently we followed another tunnel ramping upwards, until we arrived at train tracks.

  By the time we stepped onto the tracks, my legs trembled with exertion. I couldn't think of anything except catching my breath. The woman with the lantern took her place at the front of our lineup and a murky puddle of light danced on the tracks. The two spirits sped away. Owen whispered to keep quiet. I took several deep breaths to calm my racing pulse. We tiptoed single file along the narrow ledge next to the tracks.

  In a few moments, the spirits returned and reported the location of Glynn and his squad.

  Glynn.

  My heart lurched. When the medic reported that neither Del nor I waited at the station he must've felt sick with worry. I hadn't set out to worry him. I should have tried harder. Made Del wait for the medic, then slipped off to explore the tunnels by myself. Would that have made things any better? As far as Glynn knew I'd still be MIA.

  "Meagan." Owen tapped my elbow. "You still with us?"

  Too late now to change the choices I’d made.

  I nodded quickly, bottled my conflicting emotions, and followed the others along a narrow ledge. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, my shoulder scraping along the rough wall as I paced.

  After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at a wider ledge. Wide enough for us to form a tight, silent circle around Owen. Where we were in relation to Echo Den, or Westmead Station, was anyone's guess. My ears strained for any sound that could have signaled Glynn and his squad.

  "We'll meet them at section eighty-five." Owen spoke clearly. "Only use as much force as needed to convince the squad we come from the loop."

  "What if someone is injured?" I whispered.

  "We'll try to avoid that."

  "We have little capacity to heal any more living," someone at the back muttered.

  "That's why we will avoid injuries," Owen answered sharply.

  We followed another narrow ledge until we arrived at a much wider tunnel. Four tracks ran parallel to one another. We crossed the tracks to the ledge opposite. The leader crouched and signaled for us all to do the same.

  "They are up ahead," Owen whispered to me.

  "Let me try, please."

  "Remember what I said."

  "And you remember my words too."

  "Go. Take the lantern, they'll see you coming."

  Lantern in hand, I paced as quickly as I could along the ledge. Many footsteps sounded ahead, muffled as if the soldiers stepped carefully—probably ready to shoot at anything that moved. I had to trust that Glynn had them disciplined and under control. That he'd be happy to see me. My tight leg muscles didn't want to move. I fought an overwhelming urge to hide in shadows. I cleared my throat, tensed my jaw to stop my lips from trembling, and held the lantern high above me.

  "Glynn," I called out. "It's me, Meagan."

  16

  My voice echoed around the tunnel as if I'd shouted down a well. My feet felt rooted to the spot. Owen and his people crouched behind me; Glynn and his squad marched toward me.

  What the hell am I doing? This is a crazy idea.

  My body temperature rose as if surrounded by a Turkish bath rather than the cold tunnels. But how else could I stop this attack and talk to Glynn?

  I had to press on.

  Perhaps they hadn't heard me. I cleared my throat. "Major Buckley—"

  "Don't shoot." Glynn barked out the order and strode to me. "What the hell? Have you any idea how worried I've been?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry." Heat tingled in my face. I had every idea. If our positions were reversed I’d be worried sick, and angry enough to kick a dozen blanket boxes. "I can explain."

  "Make it quick. Twitchy fingers. Where is Del? You are together I assume?"

  "They are treating Del—"

  "They?"

  "We found Aidan. He’s happy and working in the garden—"

  "They?" Glynn stepped closer, a command to answer the question clear in his tone.

  I lowered my voice. "Living dead, living in peace—"

  "What the hell have you been snorting. They killed nine men."

  "No. They are looking after everyone." No time now to explain about the dead soldier who hated his new life. I’d put my trust in what they told me. That they wanted no one hurt.

  If they harmed a hair on Glynn's head, I'd show them what a furious necromancer could do.

  I placed the lantern on the ledge and stepped down to where Glynn stood. He had every right to be livid with me.

  "I don't know whether to kiss you or put you over my knee." Glynn touched my face with trembling fingers.

  One of the men behind Glynn sniggered. I encircled my hand around
his fingers and leaned toward him. It had only been hours since we’d seen one another. It felt like a lifetime ago. I ached to hug him close to me, but it didn’t seem appropriate in the setting.

  "Did you find Ed?"

  "He said he was accidentally shot by one of his own men." I gripped Glynn’s hand. "In the confusion."

  "You've spoken with him?"

  "He's fine, honestly. They are well fed, and well treated."

  "I believe you." Glynn softened his tone. "I don't know what to make of it."

  He paced to the other side of the tunnel and back. He stared at the spot where Owen and his men huddled, glanced away, and rested his hand on my shoulder. "I need my men released."

  "As soon as you guys stop attacking them." My mouth dried. "They are working on some stuff. They’ll move soon. If you'd meet with Owen and talk things through. They didn't start this."

  "Bullshit." Col. Asher's voice boomed from down the tunnel.

  The sound of heavy strides grew closer.

  "Get away." Glynn hissed the words at me. "You're not Asher's favorite person."

  Glynn turned to face Asher. "Colonel, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

  I backed to the ledge. Glynn's surprise sounded genuine. A heavy weight settled in my stomach. I wasn't expecting to see Asher here either. At Del's house, Asher’s hands trembled, tremors shook his arms. No sign of shakiness now. He held a weapon in a firm grip, his stance as straight as any soldiers in history.

  "Obviously." In one word, Asher tangled together sarcasm and scorn. "I see the witch still hangs around despite my orders to the contrary."

  "I can explain, sir."

  "No need, Major. I can see for myself she is no ordinary witch. You did well to expose her. Though I still have questions about your loyalty, and you will answer them."

  Glynn glanced in my direction before stepping closer towards the Colonel. "Sir—"

  "Bring as many as you can alive. I especially want their leader and the witch." Colonel Asher kept his stare fixed on my face. "Buckley, I expect you will want to have a quiet conversation with ex-Sergeant Maddox. Don't kill him. That's a direct order, make sure you obey at least that one."

  Owen had been a sergeant? And he and Glynn knew one another? I swiveled my head to try and see how Owen reacted, but all the living dead stayed still and silent against the tunnel walls.

  "Maddox?" Glynn’s voice shook. "Show yourself."

  I lifted my hands in a plea. "Colonel, why won't you talk with them? Negotiate a peace."

  "I'll rot in Hell before I negotiate anything with a bunch of insane corpses."

  "They aren't like any other undead you've ever—"

  He pointed the gun at my chest. "Shut up. I'd like you taken alive. But I want him more."

  My heart hammered within the bulletproof vest Owen insisted I wear. "They want to give the city technology for free. Why are you against that?"

  "I don't have to explain anything to you."

  "Your men and the people living here deserve to know what's going on."

  Ignoring the colonel, Glynn pushed past me. He pulled a small torch from his pocket and flashed light into the depths of the tunnel behind me. His slow intake of breath spiked fear in my gut. Something had happened between the two men. How would I get them to talk now?

  "You know why I did what I did," Owen said clearly. "I didn't want her dead. But you were the commanding officer. I had to follow orders, you would have died if I'd tried to save her."

  This was the mage who saved Glynn's life? The man Glynn blamed for his old girlfriend’s death?

  Colonel Asher smiled for a brief second, pointed his gun at the tunnel roof and pulled the trigger.

  The deafening noise forced my hands to my ears.

  As I edged back to Owen and his men, they tossed small metal canisters into the tunnel. Flashing light dazzled my eyes. Brilliant white light many times brighter than if someone took a flash picture right in front of my face. For a few seconds, I couldn't see anything.

  My ears buzzed at a succession of explosions. I gagged at the stink of steamy sulfur and stale urine. My face throbbed as if someone with a huge fist punched had my head, repeatedly.

  No wonder friendly fire hit soldiers. It was impossible to tell who was who, or where I was in comparison to anyone else.

  Something small and hard smacked into my chest, the impact like a hammer against my body. Pain radiated into my abdomen and I fell backward against the ledge.

  Somebody grabbed me under my armpits and dragged me backward. My ankles banged against the tracks until someone picked me up tight against their chest and ran.

  It wasn't Glynn—the man who helped me was as cold as ice.

  More explosions flared. The booming sound pulsed through my body. Coarse retching sounded in the distance. Someone still carried me, hunched but moving swiftly and quietly. Pain still radiated from my wound, its heat fighting a battle with cold seeping from the man's icy chest into my body. Fits of shivering—maybe from injury or cold—kept me alert as we retraced our steps back to Echo Den.

  Owen was the mage who healed Glynn rather than his girlfriend. Owen hadn't told me. But then again, I hadn't asked. That meant he died recently, and Colonel Asher wanted both of us alive.

  What the hell was that about? Whatever it was, it took Glynn by surprise.

  We turned sharply and ran down a steep ramp. The narrow, twisting stairs came next. No way could this man carry me down, no matter how strong he was.

  "Put me down." I tapped the cold chest. "I'll walk down the stairs."

  He placed my feet on the ground and made sure I stood steadily before he let me go. At the landing above the narrow staircase, we regrouped. Silent and still like a set of statues jutting from the wall. One of the men clutched a broken arm to his chest. Blood glistened on Owen's face. Someone snuffed out the lantern and hung it back on the wall.

  No one followed us. No sounds indicated a platoon creeping forward.

  I'd been overly ambitious; my legs couldn't hold me up and I slumped to the ground.

  Someone picked me up again, lifted me over their shoulders like a fireman would an unconscious body, and paced to the top of the steps. With one hand gripping my waistband, he descended. Perhaps it was the blood rushing to my brain, with each step I regained my bearings. One more corridor to go, and we’d be back at the main cavern.

  After the blackness of the tunnels, my eyes blinked at the gentle lights in the large cavern. The man carried me into the surgery and lowered me onto an empty mattress. I fell back against the pillows, the pain in my chest bearable unless I took a deep breath. The man with a broken arm lurched into the surgery and collapsed onto the empty mattress next to me. Del lifted her head at the commotion and raised her eyebrows when she spotted me.

  I wriggled out of the bulletproof vest. Whatever hit me hadn’t pierced it. I inspected the garment, found a small hole and held it up to show Del.

  She gripped the drip she was attached to and limped across the room to my bed. "You've got a couple of cracked ribs, I’ll wager."

  "It feels like I'm getting stabbed every time I breathe." My vision seemed normal, but I pointed at my ears. "All I can hear is the buzzing of a million furious wasps."

  "That might last a few hours. Can't do much for cracked ribs. Just takes time."

  Dr. Graham ran into the hospital. She inspected a purple bruise spreading over my chest and glanced over the rest of my body. Scratches bled along my legs, my shoulders were red and scraped.

  "None of it will kill you. Can you heal yourself?"

  I lifted my shoulders, and immediately grimaced.

  "She healed me," Del muttered.

  My eyes drifted shut. I'd never purposefully tried to heal myself. I just wanted to sleep and dropped my head to Del's shoulder. But sleep eluded me. My brain ran with questions.

  Colonel Asher was hiding something for sure. Not just hiding something, but fighting an unjust war against Owen and his people. Was it for
money, or did something else drive him? An extreme distrust of the undead like his distrust of witches? He thought I was just a witch, imagine what he'd feel if he knew the truth.

  The doctor called over an assistant. Another living human who chose to live with this group of undead, rather than the living in the protected suburbs above ground. He wiped a cloth seeped in iodine across my scratches and scrapes. I jolted back against the pillows as fire seared across my legs. I gripped Del's hand, gritted my teeth against the pain.

  Dr. Graham spoke quickly and sharply. "You can heal yourself. Do it now."

  "Concentrate." Del stroked my hair. "Like you did for me."

  I struggled to catch my breath. "It's a bit easier when your own body isn't screaming in pain."

  "You can do it." She wound her arm around my shoulder.

  Slowly, the searing on my legs and the pounding, stabbing pain in my chest eased enough for me to focus on healing the wound.

  "I need my wand, it's in my bag."

  Del pulled up the flap on my satchel. "What do you need?"

  "My healing wand. Dragon wrapped around a copper handle leading to a Green stone. Flecks of red." I swallowed again.

  Red for blood. Too much blood. Del's, Glynn's, mine, Ed's. The blood in Glynn's amulet.

  Dear Haebeth, please ensure he still has it around his neck.

  Blood streamed down Owen's face. He'd been hurt too. And these people needed him. The wand vibrated in my hand. Just like it had when I first found it embedded in the old oak tree in the forest at Ravenswood. This time it told me to focus on my ribs. I clutched it against my chest, poured energy through the crystal and felt my own power filtered through the healing crystal plunge back into me.

  I gasped. So, this is what concentrated healing power felt like. Foreign at first. An uncomfortable pressure. Octopus fingers reaching deep into my body. Del lay still for this with a much worse injury than me. The least I could do was honor her bravery by surrendering myself to the pain. With acceptance came relief that spread through the tentacles.