Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Asher swayed like a confused drunk. "Out of the way, boy. I hold no grudge against you."

  Maybe Asher wasn’t a complete monster, but he looked none too happy with me. I squeezed Aidan’s shoulder and stepped away from him. He shadowed my move and stood his ground. I called the swirling ley line to me. Asher leaned toward it as if he too felt its silky pull. Facing him like this, the top of his head looked flat, almost natural, as if plastered with sticky hair.

  "Why did you try and kill Glynn?" Aidan pointed an accusing finger at Asher. "He’s my friend."

  "The witch isn’t. Yet she hides behind you."

  "She’s my friend too." Aidan curled his arms back as if to hold me in his protective custody.

  As the ley power swirled in my belly, I settled my hand on Aidan’s shoulder. "I’ll deal with this."

  Asher laughed. "Like you’ve dealt with me so far?"

  Asher was dead. I should be able to command him, but he’d risen thanks to the ley lines. I’d failed to command the living dead twitcher at Echo den. A dull ache built at the back of my head. Too risky to try that here with Aidan refusing to leave my side.

  With Owen and his people, and the inhabitants of the cemetery across the road, death energy should have coursed through my body ready to burst forth when I needed it. Instead of building in my chest, it sloshed around my feet like wet sand at low tide. I was exposed, vulnerable, desperate to keep my face still, lest I displayed my self-doubts to Asher.

  Asher watched me and laughed again. "A nervous witch is a dangerous witch, so people say."

  "Any witch can be dangerous, Asher. Especially when someone is foolish enough to threaten people she cares about." My one advantage was that Asher understood the ley power even less than I did. I swirled its energy into a ball.

  Asher’s eyes narrowed, he uttered a raw cry and lunged at me. Fast and strong, he wrapped his arms around my knees and dragged me to the ground. In a flash, he laid me flat on my back. Grimacing, he pushed his knee into my chest.

  I couldn’t fill my lungs with air.

  Aidan bellowed and leapt onto Asher’s back. Still hollering, he grabbed Asher’s ears and yanked them back.

  Asher roared like a wild boar. Flailing his arms around his head, he bucked and tossed Aidan to one side. Aidan stumbled and lurched off the platform onto the tracks.

  Gulping in huge breaths, I screamed Aidan’s name as I scrambled from Asher’s hold.

  I couldn’t hear anything but my own heart pounding. Everyone must have heard us. Surely, we wouldn’t be alone on the platform for much longer. My heart hammered uncomfortably. I’d never forgive myself if Aidan was seriously hurt, or worse. Twisting like a snake, I tried to see if anyone charged to help us.

  No-one. With one foot free, I aimed a kick at Asher’s chin.

  The kick landed with a satisfying crunch.

  It didn’t slow Asher down. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me back to him. Finally, I felt rather than heard footsteps pounding toward us.

  Aidan reappeared holding the umbrella. He lifted it, grunted, and whacked it across Asher’s back.

  Asher’s nostrils flared, he bared his teeth, yanked the umbrella from Aidan, and swung it at his legs. Aidan leapt out of the way, landed awkwardly, and stumbled again off the platform and onto the track. Asher had to release me to grab the umbrella and swing it with both hands. I scrambled away from him again and swirled the ley power into a tennis ball sized blob.

  Glynn raced along the platform toward us. He leapt into the air, set his shoulder and landed on top of Asher.

  They struggled with one another. Both exhausted. Both enraged. Suddenly Asher squeezed his hands around Glynn’s throat.

  Aidan screeched. I hurled the ball of pure power into Asher’s back. He jerked away from Glynn, stumbled, and crashed to his knees.

  Owen couldn't have been far behind Glynn. He grabbed Asher's head and twisted his neck. Owen flung Asher’s limp body to one side. Glynn staggered backward, gasping for breath, his hands clawing at his throat. Someone ran to him with a bottle of water. I jumped over Asher's body, wrapped my arms around Glynn’s shoulders and sagged against his chest.

  "It’s okay babe. It’s over." Glynn held me close.

  I just wanted to be held in his arms and let the tension flow away, but we still had things to set right. Reluctantly I pulled away from his arms. "Aidan jumped in to protect me. He fell, twice. He must be hurt."

  "Dr. Graham is here, already looking after him." Glynn pulled me back to him, lifted my face to kiss my cheeks. "And Owen’s people are carrying Asher’s body away."

  "They know better than anyone how to finish him for good.

  "It’s over."

  I lifted onto my toes so our mouths could connect. He pushed my nose to one side and clamped his rough and chapped lips over mine.

  "I want to soak in an oil infused bath." I nuzzled into his chest.

  "I can help with the moisturizer." Glynn whispered.

  Owen kneeled next to the body, his forehead creased. It gave Glynn and me a few precious moments to just hold one another close.

  "He's not a living dead, closer to what we used to call a zombie in the old days." Owen turned over Asher's body. "We have no choice but to burn his body, the sooner the better."

  "Who shot him?" Aidan crouched to examine the hole in Asher’s skull.

  "Help us make a bonfire." Owen clasped Aidan's shoulder. "We'll include a pyre for Colonel Asher on top of the pile of rubbish we've cleaned out."

  Aidan's face lit up with a grin, as happy as any teenager at the thought of a bonfire. If he had any worries about the bonfire being used to cremate Asher's remains, he kept them well hidden. Still grinning, he left with a group of others.

  Glynn, Owen, and myself remained on the platform.

  Glynn caught his breath and straightened, hands on hips. "That's twice, Maddox."

  "I might not let you forget it, Buckley." Owen offered his hand to Glynn.

  Glynn took it and the men shook hands solemnly.

  "We will help with medical research, but won’t be interred and held like prisoners or tortured like lab rats," Owen said.

  "It's a fair position." Glynn glanced at me. "I'm not sure how we can make it work yet."

  "We will discuss it while we prepare the bonfire." Owen clapped his hand on Glynn's back. "I'm cooking out here. Let's get out of the sun."

  The three of us traipsed back into the cellars. Benches stood against the wall and Glynn slumped onto one. I knelt next to him.

  "Once you've agreed how to work together with Owen. You've still got to sort out the military, and Dr. Prescott."

  "No one will ever sort out the military, babe." He cupped my face in his hands. "As soon as a new commander is appointed, I'll make a report."

  "You won't be in trouble, will you?"

  "This man is rarely out of trouble." Owen joined us. "He'll deal with it."

  "We need to rest up a little before we try and pump our way back." Glynn pulled me onto his lap.

  "We can do better than that," Owen said. "We've got one working electric train. It's experimental, but the solar battery holds enough power to get it to one station before the Brimbank loop. I don't want it out during the day, but if you can wait until after dark we can send you back in comfort."

  "That is an offer to good to refuse," I said.

  Glynn nodded. He gave me a weak smile, his shoulders drooping, and he slouched against the wall. He clasped Owen’s hand again. "I promised I'd check on Aidan. Let's talk after that."

  "He is welcome here for as long as he'd like to stay. The train should be in working order soon, so he can get back to the city and visit home whenever he wants."

  Someone called Owen’s name. He excused himself and left us alone on the bench.

  Glynn looked as beat as I felt. What if getting the military side of things sorted out meant Glynn would have to stay in Brimbank? Would he want to stay there? Would they ask him to be the new colonel? He always joked a
bout boring old Winterhurst, would he jump at the chance to leave it for good? I wanted to ask him, but didn’t want to hear his answers.

  Aidan ran to us, his face beaming. "Uncle Glynn, come and see the bonfire we’re making, it’s huge."

  "He needs a rest—"

  "I’m okay, sweetheart. I did promise to check on him." Glynn groaned to his feet.

  I traipsed after them as far as the huge sliding door. At the back of the hotel the ground sloped down to a river. Squealing with laughter, Aidan carried pieces of wood and bits of broken barrels out to a growing pile of rubbish in a clearing surrounded by stout olive trees.

  Glynn joined Aidan in stacking pieces on the bonfire. Nearby, under the trees, a small group of people prepared a pyre for Asher’s body.

  "This is one funeral bonfire I don’t want to miss." I muttered to myself, yawned and turned to find a seat in the cooler cellar again.

  "Nor shall you miss it." Owen grinned at me. "Come. Let me show you around."

  I let Owen take my arm and walk me across the space. The area was much larger than it looked at first. The cellars from the hotel and the church adjoined and made an area almost as large as the cavern at Echo Den.

  "This area needs to be dug out, but my office will be here." Owen poked me in the ribs. "I sense that you aren't paying attention, my dear."

  "I'm sorry. You’re right. Can I ask you some questions?"

  Owen led me to a seat against a brick wall. I sat in the filtered sunlight, grateful for the coolness and the support at my back.

  Owen sat next to me. "Fire away."

  "Explain why you are so perfect, when so many here are not."

  He threw his head back and laughed. "Perfect is not a word used to describe me very often."

  "I'm serious. I healed you. There's nothing wrong with you."

  He shook his head. "We really don't know. But I can tell you my story if you like."

  "Yes, please."

  "I died in the train loop while on duty with a squad. We’d been following a group of twitchers after a raid. I became separated from the group, and a twitcher stabbed me. It was a thin blade, into my abdomen and I bled to death on the tracks. I awoke disoriented. I knew I was dead, I thought maybe I’d come back as a ghost, but my body was heavy and present. Liliwen found me and led me to Echo Den."

  "This wasn't very long ago?"

  "About eighteen months."

  "Everyone was already at Echo Den, then you arrived and took over?"

  "I'm not the boss here. More the spokesperson of a collaborative group. Most of the scientists and engineers couldn't be bothered with leadership, so it fell to me."

  His natural charisma wouldn't have hurt either. I kept that thought to myself, it was embarrassing enough I told him he was perfect.

  "You died right on top of the ley lines."

  "Yes, and that's definitely a factor in the strength of your corporal body after death."

  "What else?" I pushed him, determined to find out what created a strong living dead.

  "Dying close to the ley line, minimal damage, no damage after death, a strong life force, unfinished business." He shrugged. "But we've also got people like Simon who suffered severe damage before and after death, and yet still live."

  I yawned. Apologized and yawned again. Owen led me to a private area away from the main cellar.

  He dragged over a military style cot and a thin mattress. "Sleep. You’ll feel better for it. I’ll wake you before we light the bonfire.

  My weak protest was interrupted by a deep yawn.

  "No argument. I promise I’ll wake you.

  30

  I woke to the yellow glow of an oil lantern. As I stretched, a silky-winged moth brushed past my face. Sounds of laughter and crackling wood drifted to me.

  The bonfire. I jolted upright. I had to make sure Asher stayed dead this time.

  Still yawning, I carried the lantern to the sliding door and crunched my way down the gravel path to the clearing where flames licked high in the sky. Smoke billowed and dissipated in a gentle breeze. I caught sight of Glynn and waved.

  He loped towards me, caught me in his arms, and spun me in a circle. "Feel better?"

  "Still want to sleep. But no-one woke me, and I didn’t want to miss this." I pouted. "Are you okay?"

  "Owen and I just agreed we better get you. You beat us to it." Glynn kissed my lips softly. "You haven’t missed the ceremonial turning of Asher into ashes. It’s a few minutes away. I caught a few hours sleep too."

  Owen slipped a glass of dark colored liquid into my hand.

  "The best sherry." Glynn nudged me to a bench away from the heat of the fire and nuzzled into my ear. "It's not quite the Winterhurst Beltane dance, is it?"

  "I'm with you, that's all that matters." I settled against his firm body.

  Glynn looped his arm around my waist. "Here comes the body."

  "It is him, isn’t it? You checked?"

  "Owen and I both checked. Twice. It’s him. What’s left of him, at least."

  Four people carried Asher’s body on a raft-like structure. They pushed it into the fire. Flames erupted and the crowd burst into applause and laughter.

  "Doused him in alcohol to make sure." Glynn laughed, and raised his glass in a toast. He checked his watch in the firelight. "It's two minutes past midnight, Saturday morning."

  Saturday. The day I’d been so worried about. I’d wanted everything to be perfect. Dinner in pinky twilight on my bedroom balcony, the perfect dress that covered up all my bad bits and still had him ogling me, no eau-de-dead people, just Glynn and me.

  Here we were at midnight—me in filthy army fatigues, the smell of barbecued meat in the air, and with dead people dancing, chatting and laughing all around us.

  "I wanted today to be special." I slumped against his chest.

  Was it only four days ago I’d moaned to Evie? It felt like weeks ago. I’d been so sure something would come up and ruin my plans to celebrate our anniversary. Something had come up, grown wings, and soared. I’d never imagined how we’d careen from the temporary train station outside the city to this bonfire at Saltpetre Way.

  "Today is special." He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. "We are both alive. We’re together. Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

  "You remembered." I pulled away from him. Smacked his arm.

  "You dropped enough hints in the last couple of weeks."

  "What hints? I didn't, did I?"

  He laughed and kissed my mouth, tenderly at first, then hungrily until I pulled away to catch my breath.

  "I remembered anyway." He pulled me back to him. "How could I forget the day we met? At the cemetery snowflakes fell onto your glossy hair and melted on your rosy cheeks. You stood there so oblivious to yourself. Do you remember? We talked across an empty grave surrounded by shards of wood, clods of earth and broken stone. But all I saw was you."

  I’d told Evie I thought he was as romantic as a hammer. Thank Haebeth, my blushes of shame were hidden by the heat of the fire.

  "I love you," I whispered into his chest.

  Glynn didn't move. Owen’s people still squealed around the fire. Small creatures scurried about in the night, the fire popped and crackled.

  The words were out. I couldn't take them back now, even if I wanted to, and I didn't want to. "I know I drive you mad. I try and fit in, but it never works, I always end up feeling a bit like a splatter of black paint that doesn't belong on a pastel drawing. I know I'm a bit different..."

  "Babe, you are way past a bit different."

  "I know I'm a freak. I'm undisciplined—"

  "You can say that again."

  "I don't think things through—"

  "Or you overthink them."

  "You've got so much life you've lived, and I haven't been part of any it." I punched his arm again. "You could stop agreeing with me."

  "Did you know that your nose wrinkles when you get cross."

  "You told me already. I'll add it to the
list—"

  He gripped my shoulders, touched the tip of my nose with his lips. "I love the way your nose wrinkles. You know what else I love about you?"

  I pressed myself against his chest, eager for him to love more than just my nose wrinkling.

  "You're brave, loyal, principled, compassionate." He stroked his hands from my shoulders to elbows. "I don't know if I'm the right one to love you the way you deserve. But I’m glad you are willing to give me a go. Glad really doesn’t cover it, but I’m not a poet. I don’t know how long I’ll have to stay in Brimbank."

  I pulled away from him and paced to the edge of the fire. What if he chose to stay in Brimbank? I could still go on, I knew that. I'd rather have Glynn in my life—I squeezed my eyes against the burning pain—but I'd be okay.

  He pulled me back to the bench, cuddled me in his lap.

  I couldn't keep a quiver from my voice. "I don't think I can stay in Brimbank. I'm missing Ravenswood already."

  "I’ve no intention of staying here a day longer than I need to."

  "You’re not tired of boring old Winterhurst?"

  "Yes. But if this cute redhead lives nearby." He kissed my head. "I'll be hanging around."

  "It’s not red—"

  He smothered my sentence with a tentative kiss and took a small box from deep inside one of his pockets. "I've been carrying this around with me for a couple of weeks. God only knows how the guards missed it when they roughed me up."

  His demeanor changed, the playfulness replaced by a sensitive yearning. "This is all I have from my life before the orphanage."

  I squeezed my arm around his waist.

  "It was my grandmother’s. It's not worth much, but I'd like you to have it." He pushed the box into my hand.

  I opened it, removed cotton wool, and found the sweetest little brooch. A green stone flecked with tiny fragments of red, wrapped in detailed gold filigree worked into the shape of a snail. I felt a smile stretch across my face.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, fidgeted with his shirt buttons.

  "It's beautiful." I kissed his mouth.