Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection

by Margo Bond Collins

  Aerie looked down at her hands, so much like her mother’s. So much of her strength had come from her and she’d never even known it, until now. She circled her fingers, preparing to cast, and shouted the spell into the void.

  The demonic ley heard her plea and responded with a wicked glee. Her vision faded completely.

  I love you…The memory of her mother’s voice trailed behind her and she was floating, rising, faster, zooming—

  shattering—

  becoming—

  22

  The physical pain of re-entering the Mortal Plane was a scream her entire body felt. Suddenly manifesting her corporeal form, gravity and air pressure threatened to crush her.

  Breathe, dummy!

  The first breath felt like a lungful of laser beams.

  She found herself sprawled on the floor of his office, lit only by the glare of streetlight outside. Silently she rolled to her feet, scanning every direction.

  The amulets were on the desk. She touched her mom’s and it pulsed once. The other one…Ciaran’s amulet…her amulet…

  She chewed her lip, squelching the war scream that threatened to consume her. No time to indulge her anger. Once more, she visualized the grimoire, searching the pages for the spell she needed.

  Ah. That one.

  She placed her finger on the jewel of the second amulet and whispered a hurried chant. This time, casting did not sting with the bite of the demonic ley.

  The jewel pulsed with sullen maroon light before once more going dark. She pocketed both amulets and slid toward the doorway, listening. All was quiet.

  She cast a light foot spell and crept down the hall, pausing often, straining to hear. Muffled voices downstairs.

  Charles. She couldn’t bring herself to call him Pop anymore. Not even in her mind. And Jels. He was here, too, the rotten deceitful, conniving swine.

  Sliding down the stairs, she peered around the corner, scanning the shop. Only the quarter lights were lit, the OPEN sign dark. The shop was locked for the night.

  But the shop wasn’t empty. An amber glow warmed the end of the shelves at the far end of the shop. The vault was open. A murmur of male voices drew her down the aisle toward the open door. She crept closer until she could hear what Charles was saying.

  His voice was a drone, a low monotone that drilled into the ears and pierced the mind. “Bend to my will. Bend to my will. All things I wish, you bend to my will.”

  Instinctively she made a cast around her to strain out the insidious snake of magical hypnosis. She fisted her hands. Of all the shitty spells—how stupid was Jels?

  She peered around the corner. Jels was standing, slumped, eyes vacant. That dead-eyed stare he’d often looked at her with. All these years she’d thought it was disdain or hate.

  She pinched her lips. Stupid, stupid Jels.

  “Where were you tonight?” Charles asked.

  “With Aerie,” Jels said.

  With me? she thought. What the hell?

  She edged carefully closer to the doorway, careful to remain in the shadows. A cloying smell seeped out at her. Rose oil. He wasn’t even trying to hide the scent under rosemary or some other potent herb.

  She stifled a disdainful sound. He didn’t have to hide it. Jels was clueless when it came to magic-enhancing scents. He still hadn’t figured out why no one else they knew wore AXE. It made magic dumber.

  “Where with Aerie?” Charles’ tone was calm and inquisitive.

  “She was running at the lake,” Jels said. “She runs three nights a week.”

  “Were you running with her?”

  “No, I followed her,” Jels said, his tone flat and monotonous, as dead as the stare he usually leveled at Aerie whenever they met. “I waited for her to hit the woods.”

  “And?”

  “And I made her pay.”

  “For what?”

  “All the shit she’d done to me.” Jels voice was flat, devoid of any inflection, any hint of emotion. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I followed her and I hid and I jumped her and I choked her dead.”

  Hearing him say that—like it didn’t make a difference to him—

  The adrenaline that dumped into Aerie’s system nearly blinded her. She tunnel-visioned and her hearing grew muffled. Her muscles locked, freezing her.

  Fight it, fight it, fight it. All those years of training and she was being drowned by adrenaline stress response. Fight it! Focus! Charles is telling Jels to kill you!

  She drew a tight breath and squeezed, breaking the hormonal prison of her fear. Fight or flight, her body screamed. She set her teeth. Oh, the time was past for flight, for fear, for failure to act. The chains she’d worn for so long had been cast off.

  This time, it was going to be fight.

  “Where’s her body?” Charles’ voice was mild, as if he asked where his car keys were.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “If someone asks me about Aerie’s body I won’t answer.” Jels reached into his back pocket and pulled something out. It looked like an old-fashioned pocket watch.

  Aerie grimaced. That was no watch. That was the witchball. If he was holding that when it went off, there wouldn’t be enough left of him to piece back together.

  “What is the endgame?” Charles asked.

  “Aerie is dead and I am dead.”

  “Good enough for me.” Charles exhaled hard as he pushed himself up from a squat. “Bend to my will, asleep or awake.”

  Jels shook his head. “Ow. What the hell? My hands are scratched to shit.” He sucked air through his teeth and he twisted his wrists, examining himself. “Look at my arms. Looks like I went five rounds with a pissed off cat.”

  “It was a pretty rough exercise. You did well.”

  “Did I?”

  “That witchball was sharp. You managed to fend it off, though. This was your longest round yet.”

  Training with a witch ball, my ass. She wanted to spit. Charles gave him those scratches, designed to look like defensive wounds. No one would ever believe she’d go down without giving it the fight of her life.

  Jels had never trained with that witchball. First off, he could barely fight a white belt, let alone a charmed weapon that had a will of its own. Second of all, Charles would never let him play with anything in this vault. He was selfishly possessive of everything he owned. Aerie, included.

  Stupid Jels actually believed he had, though. A befuddled yet pleased expression settled onto his face. “Yeah?”

  “Yes. Nearly seventeen minutes. The blades at the end were wicked, though.”

  “They were.” Jels seemed to be thinking really hard about it. “I’m good at fighting witchballs.”

  “You’re getting there. You need to practice evading its confusion spell. How many times do I have to remind you it always opens with that attack?”

  He paused, and Aerie could picture his expression: disappointed, exasperated. What an accomplished actor. He deserved an award for playing himself so well.

  “If you can manage to block that, you’ll remember more. Now. Didn’t you want to go for a walk?” Pop’s voice slid into an oily tone. “A run, maybe?”

  Hurriedly, Aerie bolstered the blocking circle she’d cast around herself, adding visual cloaking as well as auditory filtering. She flattened her back to the wall just as Jels walked out, right past her. The bell over the door jingled twice before the door shut with a thump.

  Now was the time. A fire ball into the vault. That would end this. The damage to the artifacts was a risk she was willing to take. Let the whole shop go. Collateral damage, whatever. He needed to be stopped now.

  Aerie flexed her fingers and formed her casting circles.

  “Now…” Charles said, his voice greasy with malintent. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She froze.

  “Well, you can’t like that.” He sounded much too amused. “Hold still.”

  She craned her neck and peered deeper into the room
.

  Charles wasn’t talking to her. He leaned over, his back to her. With a yank, he ripped tape off someone’s mouth, wadding it up and dropping it as he stepped away to reveal the person in the chair.

  Jim. He was bound with dull chain, loop after loop of iron.

  Aerie sagged against the wall. Fireball was out of the question. Now she needed a Plan B. Kind of tough when there hadn’t even been a real Plan A to begin with.

  She circled and cast the admittance spell upon herself, feeling the familiar trickle of energy drip over her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the light of the open door, directly into the line of fire.

  23

  “Jels left the front door open.” One hand a fist, the other a ready casting circle, she stepped inside the vault. “Not exactly Employee of the Month material, is he?”

  Charles shot her an unpleasant look, momentarily thrown by her unexpected appearance. He exhaled through his nose, that dismissive sound that made the muscles of her neck and shoulders bunch up. “Honestly, he’s not the biggest disappointment in the room right now.”

  “No, he isn’t. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

  His dark eyes glittered like a diamondback’s, and he smiled. “And it will always be me. Because, in the end, I am the only one who matters.”

  “Not anymore.” She wound back her right hand, her casting circle glowing so intense a green it burned like neon, and overhanded a spell orb at him. “Destroy!”

  He raised his arm to shield his face, unable to ward off the blow. The orb splintered across his chest, skittering off into a puff of powdery sparks.

  He began to laugh, mean and taunting. “Bravo, Aerie. You always pull the shots that matter the most.”

  Aerie dipped her brows. “Did I?”

  “Well, here I stand, alive and well. And now, you’re not.” Still smirking, he reached into his pocket for his ring. “Say goodbye, kid.”

  His expression froze over. Pulling out his clenched hand, he uncurled his fingers.

  His high school ring: the stone cracked, the metal split and twisted. Destroyed.

  “It’s over.” She swallowed hard. “All of it. It’s over.”

  “Did you forget something, kid? I don’t need a circle in here.” He rolled his shoulder and ducked around a corner into the next aisle.

  She dropped into a silent crouch, listening, peering through the shelves. Where was he?

  More importantly, what was within his reach?

  Suddenly, the air was shattered with a high-pitched squeal that threatened to make her ears bleed. The pulsating shriek was the hallmark of a Monsoon Screaming Stone. It only had one good scream in it, but in those few seconds, her eardrums might very well rupture.

  She clapped her hands over her ears and scanned the shelves. She was in the D through L aisle. She reached up, feeling gingerly overhead. A Dragon Whistle. So, two slots down.

  There. A Danish Sound Swallower. She pulled the tray to the edge and tipped the artifact into her hand, flipping it around and feeling for the thumb-groove—click. A visible wave radiated out, distorting the air. The squealing cut off with a muffled thump.

  Trouble was, it cut off all sound for a full thirty seconds. Now, she couldn’t track him.

  Needed eyes on him. Eyes. Dammit. Next aisle over. She craned her neck to see where he was. Center aisle was clear. She readied a casting circle, hand up, deep breath. Whipped around the corner, ready to cast—

  Aisle empty. She scanned the shelf. There. A Virtual-eyes, within her reach. She grabbed it and ducked back behind the edge of the shelf. Two aisles over, a soft rattle. The effect was wearing off. Had to move fast. She slinked up the aisle, holding the device in front of her. It created a circular portal, like a periscope’s view, cutting through the wooden shelves. Scanned the vault. Where was he? Where?

  There. Charles had something in his hand. He lifted it. A blinding flash of purplish-white light, a sizzle she tasted as well as heard—

  A bolt of elastic lightning zinged by her head, narrowly missing her. Dammit! He had an Olympian Slingshot. Shit, those things were unblockable.

  Another flash, another sizzle, this one close enough to graze her arm and singe her hair. The smells of burning hair and smoking leather stung her nose and she pulled back, striking the shelf behind her.

  A hollow sound of something rolling made her look up. A crystal ball teetered at the edge, before wobbling and tipping and falling.

  She unzipped her Holding Plane. The ball dropped neatly inside. She heaved a breath of relief.

  Another wicked whip of lightning struck the corner of the shelves near her, like a snakebite.

  Was that three? She hoped it was three—

  He muttered a vulgar word, only an aisle from her. Point-blank range. “Come on—”

  She smiled, hard and cold. That Slingshot had always jammed on three.

  If she can immobilize him, she could just stop this from getting worse. Grabbing a Hobbler, she bunched herself and spun the corner.

  And skidded to a stop. Wasn’t Charles in the aisle.

  Jels, his chin to his chest, like a bull ready to charge. A murderous look on his face.

  No dead-eyed expression. Anger. Rage. A crazed look of wrath.

  In his hand: the witchball.

  She stopped breathing and lifted her hands, a show of placation.

  “I know what you are.” His voice was a jagged edge, cutting deep. “I’ve always known what you are.”

  His other hand wore his brass knuckles. First ring empty.

  She backed up. “No, Jels. You don’t want to do this.”

  “I don’t want to. But I have to.”

  Those words, as fresh as the first time she heard them. This time, she wouldn’t be frozen. She wouldn’t pull the shot. She took aim, her casting circle charged. “I’m only going to tell you once.”

  “It’s over.” He raised his brass knuckles, the casting ring glowing. “Move aside, Aerie.”

  “What?”

  “I said, move!” He swiped at her, a magical blow knocking her over. She rolled to her feet, circle up, a spell on the tip of her tongue.

  He didn’t advance on her. Across the center aisle from them stood Charles, who faced Jels like a cowboy at high noon.

  Charles made a tsk-tsk sound. “You failed me, buddy. We had a good plan and you failed me. You were my best student.”

  “Still am, Charlie. You taught me how to use this.” Jels held the witchball.

  Aerie blew out a tight breath, circling to keep them both in sight. “No, Jels. Don’t.”

  “He won’t,” Charles spat. “He doesn’t have the balls on his own. He never did.”

  “Just set it down and walk out, Jels.” Aerie slowly pivoted, taking Charles into her line of sight without quite letting Jels out of it. She trained her circle on Charles. “This isn’t your fight.”

  “Shut up, Aerie. You of all people should want this, what he’s done to you. What he’s done to us—” Jels shook his head, his eyes haunted. “Everything you made me do. You’re never going to use me again. I hate you!”

  Holding his fist up, he aligned his knuckles, targeting Charles in the crosshairs of his casting ring, and supercharged it with a spell.

  Aerie tasted the power he pulled, so thick she could almost see it. He was going to kill Charles. And he’d have to live with that, forever.

  She knew all about living with something bad. Clenching her jaw, she bared her teeth. Not going to happen again, not even to him.

  She slid in front of him, making him draw off his aim. Spinning, Aerie pulled out the amulet and threw it at Charles, shouting the words of a centuries-old spell. Recognition flashed across Charles face. He knew that spell.

  He should. He’d ruined enough lives with it.

  Smoke burst from the floor at his feet, a volcanic eruption of power that engulfed him and dragged him down, yelling.

  Jels shoved Aerie aside with his hand and blasted a spell at the man who’d
betrayed them both. Charles disappeared into the amulet a split second before Jels’ orb hit, shattering the rack behind him. His breathing was ragged and uneven as he fought back sobs.

  Aerie clapped her hands, taking back his attention.

  “Where is the ball, Jels? Where is it!” When he didn’t answer, she followed the trail of his gaze to the ground.

  The witchball. It made a tinny tck-tck-tck and wobbled in place. He’d triggered it. The blades spun out, razor-sharp, and the ball levitated, glowing like the heart of a mine fire.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered, eyes wild. “You didn’t.

  “Oh, shit,” he said. “I did. Quick!”

  He dove for her, covering her, and grabbed her hand, entwining their fingers. They cast their orbs together, throwing up a combined shield, their magic resonating. The witchball reared back and dove at them. It struck their barrier once, twice—the third strike it rebounded and bounced straight into the restricted section.

  It struck one of the weaponized artifacts, lighting it up, ready to blow. Aerie and Jels turned and cast containment spell orbs at it, one after the other, walling off the corner section in layer upon layer of insulation.

  One by one, the restricted items triggered and blew, each releasing its fury in its own way. A yellow mushroom cloud. A rain of sliver spikes. A serpent that struck impotently at the protective wall, wanting to feel Aerie’s flesh in its jaws—

  All that wicked devastation was contained in the sphere. Aerie and Jels held tightly to each other, pouring their strength into their shields, into the containment wall, feeling the battery as if they took each blow themselves.

  When the explosions stopped and the dust cleared, nothing remained but shattered wood, twisted metal shelving, the smoking remnants of what used to be artifacts.

  The entire restricted section had been destroyed.

  Footsteps rapidly approaching from behind made Aerie turn, hands up, casting circle ready.

  Cara charged from behind with a bat and clubbed Jels in the back of the skull, dropping him like a sandbag. “That’s for the mustache. You look like an ass hat.”