“Hang on!” A man raced to my side, a wooden staff raised like a javelin.
I blinked to Primordium when the pressure eased in my chest. Atrum sparkles rained down around me, turning gray as they fell. I tried to sit up, tried to thank the stranger, but he had disappeared. I scanned my soul, staring long and hard before I realized the feeble stutter of light was me.
My arms gave out again. The rocky ground cradled me, reminding me of the giant furry creature that had held me this morning. I rolled my head to look at the pit. Bubbles of atrum moved within a column of lux lucis like an enormous lava lamp. The bubbles shifted and flowed, up into the rafters and down into the pit.
“Hey, pooka. Do you like me?” My words slurred around a tongue too thick for my mouth.
Someone grabbed my head and shoulders, jerking me up and breaking my hypnotized stare.
“Here. Take a sip.” It was the stranger holding my shoulders. Upside down, he was a study of rounded shapes: round arched eyebrows, large round eyes, round downward-curved lips circled with facial hair. Even his round scalp was haloed by a puff of hair.
“Holy crap.”
I rolled my eyes to my feet. Jacob stood there with Claire, both looking dim. Beyond them, atrum smeared the ground, but nothing moved. I rolled my eyes upward. The rafters were similarly empty.
“It’s just us,” I mumbled.
“You need to drink this,” the stranger said.
“He’s a doctor, Madison,” Jacob said. “A medical enforcer.”
It took too long to drag my gaze back and forth between the men. I closed my eyes. Everything was going to be better after a nap.
A firm slap snapped my eyes open. Hard metal pushed at my lower lip.
“Stay with me, Madison. I need you to swallow this.”
Sweet, cold liquid spilled into my mouth, and I swallowed when it hit the back of my throat.
Fire burned down my esophagus, licking outward to my lungs, stomach, and limbs. My jaw locked in pain as a hundred ragged wounds in my soul mended; every inch being healed was a precise agony. When the flames reached my toes and fingertips, the heat backwashed, this time a gentle warming rush. I collapsed, realizing only then I’d been bowed off the ground, supported by only my heels and the man holding my shoulders.
For several deep breaths, I relaxed against the hard ground, listening to the ringing in my ears abate. When I opened my eyes, it was to normal sight.
“Sorry about that,” the medical enforcer said. The man possessed kind brown eyes, with a deep furrow of worry between them.
“It had her swallowed,” Jacob said, his tone disbelieving.
“What’s it like in a vervet belly?” the ME asked.
“Dark,” I croaked. “What did you give me?”
“Liquid lux lucis concentrate. A little goes a long way. Which is a good thing, because it’s expensive.”
The fire of the lux lucis concentrate burned off before I had time to appreciate its warmth. The ME raised the flask again.
“Here, this time I’m just going to put a dab on your lips.”
He dribbled a little liquid on my lips and I licked it up, shuddering as the warmth rekindled in my middle.
“There. You’re looking a little better now.” The ME took a tiny sip from the flask, then handed it to Jacob.
I remembered that I didn’t know the man who cradled my head in his lap and that I wasn’t fond of lying on dirt. Plus, the pooka’s wild energy still fluctuated a few feet to my right. Time to move. Casting off the languor of my third lux lucis boost of the day, I rolled to my feet.
“Whoa! Take it easy,” the ME said.
The world spun as blood rushed to my head, and I collapsed back to all fours until everything stabilized. I blinked back to Primordium and surveyed the garage again. Aside from the prajurit swirling around the pooka’s energy, the construction site was free of Primordium creatures. Unless we counted. Am I a creature of Primordium?
“Where’d they all go?”
“They just stopped coming,” Claire said, coming back through the plastic. “It looks like a zoo out there, but it’s all good creatures.”
Pushing back on my heels, I held out a palm to the ME.
“Thanks for saving my life. I’m Madison,” I said.
“Gavin Holt,” he said. “And it was my pleasure.” His handshake was firm, his hand solid and calloused. He couldn’t have been more than a decade older than me, and he looked fit enough—in body and soul—to keep up with Niko.
Bridget was going to swoon.
Along with my soul, the liquid lux lucis had recharged my tired muscles. A five-hour nap wouldn’t have been more restorative. “I’ve really got to get me some of that stuff.”
“You’d need a prescription, and even then”—Gavin took the capped flask from Claire and raised it for us to see—“this was thirty grand.”
“Thirty grand! But that’s hardly three ounces!”
“I told you it was expensive.”
Still, I could see the value. Not only had it saved my life, but I was also more than ready to keep fighting. “Why would I need a prescription?”
“It’s highly addictive and tends to be abused. Enforcers start thinking they can take on more than they can. They stop listening to their bodies and push themselves beyond their limits. Trust me, you’ll understand tomorrow.” Gavin slipped the flask back into his medical bag and picked his staff up off the ground.
I admired my glowing hands, which brightened before my eyes. I looked fresh. Turning to the pit’s swirling energy, I watched twin spires of black and white stripes twirl to the ceiling and fall back to the pool without a splash or sound. Prajurit darted around the lux lucis, but none tried to touch it. If they’d expended any personal lux lucis fighting the vervet, I couldn’t tell. Their tiny bodies glowed with power, and I wondered if they’d recharged via proximity to the pooka.
The pooka might be the most powerful creature I’d almost met, but it was fickle. It had saved me once from the monstrosities it had created, but then it allowed the King Kong–size vervet to nearly kill me. As irrational as it was, that felt like a betrayal.
“When will it rise?” Claire asked.
“Soon,” Jacob said.
I reached for Val against my hip. Scratches and dust marred his leather cover, and pieces of gravel bit into the pages. I brushed him clean, then let him fall to my hip without opening him. Before checking in with the handbook, I needed to call my warden. Mr. Pitt had told me to keep an eye on the crater’s activity today and notify him of any changes. This more than qualified.
I grabbed Medusa from my purse and dialed Mr. Pitt while walking toward the plastic. I wasn’t sure what to expect from him. This morning, he’d been shockingly calm, but it was too much to hope he’d remain so after I told him about the pooka rising. Just in case, I wanted a little distance between me and the other enforcers for privacy.
“Madison.” Mr. Pitt packed exasperation and relief into his greeting. “I’ve been calling for ten minutes.”
“Sorry. I’ve been busy.” Busy sounded better than almost dying. “There’s a—”
“Pooka. I know. Isabel finally confirmed today. Not that she had a choice. It’s November thirtieth.”
“What does the date have to do with anything?”
“I’ll tell you later. Who’s with you?”
“Jacob, Claire, and Gavin. It’d be nice if Niko were here.” This really felt like an optivus aegis kind of job. I was positive Niko could beat the combined combat experience of everyone in the garage, Jacob’s wunderkind status notwithstanding.
“He’s got his hands full with a rash of salamanders.”
As if on cue, the wail of a siren swelled and faded as a fire truck raced down the nearby boulevard. In my ear, a delayed siren echoed beneath Mr. Pitt’s voice.
“Stay inside.” The connection went dead. Across the garage, Claire’s phone rang.
I shoved Medusa into my back pocket and pushed aside the plast
ic.
A heavy, repetitive honk echoed through the tall buildings. Along the rooftops, a flock of geese shuffled for space, honking and snaking necks at each other. I gaped at their white bodies. They weren’t the only birds. Seagulls, crows, doves, pigeons, and smaller finches and sparrows lined the rooftops and fluttered among the buildings, all jabbering at top volume. Some alighted on the ivy vines, more on the trees in the parking lot. The dark sky of Primordium appeared star-studded with the number of birds circling, coming from all directions.
Atrum smeared the parking lot, hugging corners and skirting plants, the aftermath of a thousand evil footsteps worn into the dead concrete. Rodents and rabbits scurried in frightened bursts from one hiding spot to the next, often chased by house cats and hawks, their bodies bright against the black backdrop.
“It’s a wildlife madhouse,” Gavin said, coming up beside me.
I closed my mouth before a bird pooped in it. What the hell was a pooka, other than a magnet for life of any kind? I absently reached for Val, but most of my attention was on the three white enforcer souls who stood near a cluster of cars in the otherwise empty parking lot. My shoulders sagged. We had backup.
Footsteps pounded behind me, and I spun. Still talking on the phone, Claire unsheathed a knife as she jogged. Where had she been hiding that?
“How many hounds?” she asked the person on the phone. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”
“What’s going on?” Jacob demanded.
“Rafi says hounds are coming.”
“Rafi’s here?” Jacob pushed through the plastic to stand next to me.
“Rafi, Grace, and Summer. The pooka attracted hounds.” Claire looked up at the riot of birds. “If I get pooped on, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Poop is the least of our worries,” Jacob said. I tended to agree.
“Says you.” Claire rubbed her arms and darted through the muddy grounds to the parking lot. I followed, noticing after a few steps that Jacob and Gavin had remained behind.
Mr. Pitt’s distorted soul leveraged out of his Fiat and hustled to meet us. Isabel’s Toyota Corolla screeched to a stop near the fence and she ran past me toward Jacob. It looked like we were having a full-blown CIA party.
Mr. Pitt barreled up to me, moving surprisingly fast on his stocky legs. “Turn around and get back to the pooka, Madison.”
“I’m going to help with the hounds.”
“No, you’re not. They’ve got it covered.” He grabbed my arm, his thick fingers gripping with almost bruising strength. “The pooka is your priority.”
Frowning, I jogged with Mr. Pitt back to the garage. He kept his hand clamped on my arm, as if he thought he’d have to drag me. Gavin pulled the fence closed behind us. A hair-raising howl silenced the racket of birds. In the eerie quiet, I heard the scrabble of claws first, then the pounding of paws. I twisted in Mr. Pitt’s grip. A pack of hounds rounded the far building, their black bodies glistening like wet blood. Sliding into each other, they took the corner tight, then fanned out, glowing black eyes locked on the enforcers.
Atrum soaked the hounds from their coats to their hearts, corrupting once normal dogs into killing monsters. It was possible to rehabilitate most hounds and restore their natural lux lucis, but the process took time. Meanwhile, they would make every attempt to rip your throat out.
“They know what they’re doing,” Mr. Pitt said. As I watched, one of the enforcers—Summer?—tossed a bright white net over a charging hound. The enormous beast fell to the ground with a heart-wrenching cry, but it didn’t attempt to escape. “Jacob’s going to need your help.”
Two hounds, both as large as German shepherds, sprang for Claire. She swerved out of their paths, shoving one in the side so it fell. Snarls lifted the hairs of my arms.
Reluctantly, I let Mr. Pitt turn me around. He was right. The enforcers were competent and experienced fighters. By dashing out to join them, I wouldn’t be adding much, but maybe I could help Jacob with the pooka. Taking a deep breath, I parted the plastic, my eyes going immediately to the pit.
A chill frizzled down my spine. I thought I’d used up the last of my adrenaline, but my body had saved some for the main event. Or to escape it. Sprinting to my car sounded better than ever.
Dandelion puffs of atrum and lux lucis swirled high in the air, catching intangible currents and drifting in every direction, only to disappear like popped soap bubbles when they floated more than twenty feet from the pit. As I approached, the air thickened with power, messing with my perception of space. My feet connected with the ground seconds before I expected, lifting for the next step before my brain acknowledged I’d touched ground. Mr. Pitt shook himself, releasing my arm.
We stopped near the others, who stood so they could keep the pit in sight. Isabel rubbed her arms, and Gavin fluttered his fingers through the air in front of him—I wasn’t the only one feeling the oppressive pressure coming from the pooka. It didn’t negate the compulsion to get closer, though. I opened my mouth to comment on the peculiarity of being pulled and pushed by the same force when a flurry of prajurit dove from the rafters and swirled around Isabel. They talked fast and high-pitched, incomprehensible in their rush; then they shot to the sky and disappeared beyond the garage.
“That’s unfortunate. I had questions for them,” Isabel said. She turned back to Jacob. “I got here as quickly as I could. It’s too bad this pooka didn’t bond with you. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to kill it.”
“Yeah. I’m not looking forward to this,” Jacob said.
I frowned. Despite everything, I hadn’t written the pooka off yet.
“Drink this.” Gavin sidestepped Jacob and held a yogurt out to me. The medical enforcer tried to pop his ears, but I didn’t think he was successful; it wasn’t that kind of pressure. “Lux lucis concentrate can get you only so far. You need something with substance.”
I took the yogurt because he was right. My soul gleamed, but it felt saturated rather than strong. I had power at my fingertips, but my reserves were shallow.
“Are you sure I don’t need more concentrate?” I tried to peer into Gavin’s doctor’s bag. Lux lucis–imbued food would help normalize my internal lux lucis after a large drain, but the pooka’s pressure against my insides made eating sound miserable.
“You’ve already had too much.”
“I’ve hardly had any!”
“You’ve had two doses within twelve hours. That’s enough.”
“I think the situation calls for it.”
“That’s how it starts.”
“That’s how what starts? Are you saying I’m addicted?” I glared at him, then resumed trying to visually suss out the flask.
“I’m saying you’re headed that way. Hey, Jacob.” Jacob turned and Gavin tossed him a yogurt. Jacob uncapped it and drank it in one movement, tossing the plastic canister aside to kneel beside his arsenal.
“Drink your yogurt and be happy,” Mr. Pitt said.
Another complaint wormed on the tip of my tongue, but I drowned it with boysenberry-flavored yogurt. Arguing would only feed Mr. Stingy’s ridiculous theory. The yogurt hit the bottom of my stomach, reminding me dinner had been hours earlier. When it sloshed in a fresh pulse of pressure, I decided against asking Gavin for another.
Mr. Pitt watched me with calm, buggy eyes. “Isabel and I can’t interfere—or won’t—unless this gets out of hand.”
“You can interfere?” From what I knew of Mr. Pitt’s skills, none translated to being useful in the field. If I needed to know where the nearest patch of evil was—aside from the colossal pool right in front of us—he could tell me, but otherwise, his skills seemed far more suited to the office. I started to say as much to Mr. Pitt, but he interrupted me.
“Jigglin’ Jell-O! Focus, Madison. Unless someone’s dying, Isabel and I are here only in an advisory and supervisory capacity.”
Isabel shot us an indecipherable look, then turned to hold a whispered conversation with Jacob. My stomach churning with fre
sh anxiety, I eyed the long shotgun lying beside the wide-barreled mystery gun, then the swirling energy of the pit. Did the pooka fall under Mr. Pitt’s “unless someone’s dying” qualification?
“You’ve proved you have the instincts of an enforcer, if not the expertise,” Mr. Pitt continued, his voice softer so it didn’t carry beyond the two of us.
“Um. Thanks?”
“So don’t do anything stupid.” He took a deep breath, as if girding himself, then added, “And trust yourself.”
My eyebrows shot up. That sounded like contradictory advice, at least from Mr. Pitt’s perspective, and I opened my mouth to call him on it, but he winked, then turned to talk with Isabel. What the hell was I supposed to make of that? My volatile, cranky boss, I understood. This half-supportive boss was a mystery.
A flurry of movement over the pit jerked my attention from my internal musings. The puffs of lux lucis whisked away from the atrum and coalesced, forming four enormous twirling spires of lux lucis anchored at the cardinal directions. Simultaneously, the atrum bits collected into black tendrils that stretched and wove between the pillars in complex designs reminiscent of Celtic knots. Power spilled tighter around my body, squeezing. Soundlessly, the lux lucis pillars crashed outward to the ground, pulling the lacework of atrum with them and stretching the whole deadly design around the crater like a fine Persian rug. I jumped but didn’t retreat despite the closest band of atrum landing less than ten feet from me. The others held their ground, too.
Fingers fumbling in the power-thick air, Jacob looped the spear gun’s strap diagonally across his chest, the way I wore Val. He left it hanging and stretched toward the widemouthed gun, legs braced extra wide to compensate for the pressure’s interference with balance. I glanced to Mr. Pitt, looking for more concrete advice. He dropped his hand to his side to hide it from everyone else’s view, then shooed me toward Jacob. Frowning, I walked with exaggerated care through air that felt only slightly less dense than water.
A Fistful of Fire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer Book 2) Page 21
