Forged in Fire

by J. A. Pitts

  Katie was already getting dressed when Bub fell on top of me. I rolled to the side, letting him lay in the spot I’d just vacated. “Hang on, big guy.” His eyes were shocky. “Did you port here from Black Briar?”

  He nodded, but did not speak.

  Holy crap. I got up and ran into the kitchen, naked and freezing. “Call Skella,” I shouted as I grabbed the remains of the bread and salami from the counter. I dodged back into the living room and held the food out to Bub. Teleporting that far was beyond anything I’d ever seen or heard of him doing. It had to have taken it out of him. He ate the bread and salami in two great gulps and then accepted a pitcher of water.

  Katie was tossing me my clothes, which were scattered all over the living room and kitchen.

  “Call Skella,” I said, pulling a T-shirt over my head.

  “No use,” Bub said, shivering. “They’ve smashed all the mirrors.”

  I knelt by him and rubbed his head. “We’ll head to Chumstick,” I told him. “How much head start do they have?”

  “Minutes,” he said. “They took Jai Li.” I could hear the shame in his voice.

  “Not your fault,” I said, looking over to Katie. “She was supposed to be safe there.”

  “Fuck,” Katie said into her cell phone. She ran into the bedroom, yelling. She came back out with her guitar slung over her back and a short sword at her belt. “Bike?” she asked.

  “Yeah, faster. Hope you can keep us warm.”

  She nodded and handed me Gram. I finished getting dressed, slung Gram in her shoulder rig, and went back to Bub.

  “You rest here,” I told him. “You’ve done enough. We’ll go get them.”

  He grabbed my hand, his claws digging into the back. “He means to kill her,” he said and passed out.

  “Damn,” I said, standing. “You ready?”

  Katie tossed me my helmet and went to the door. I grabbed my saddlebags from behind the couch, feeling the comfortable weight of my hammers inside.

  “Which her?” she asked as we locked the door behind us.

  “No idea.”

  Her phone rang, and she answered it right way. “Jimmy,” she said to me. “Yeah, Jim. What the hell’s going on?”

  She relayed the information to me as we exited the building and ran around back to where I kept the bike parked. “Gunther was stabbed,” she said to me, “and they took Jai Li and the twins. Deidre was roughed up, spilled out of her chair, but she’ll survive. Power is out at Black Briar.” She listened for a few seconds while I tied down the saddlebags.

  I started the bike, and Katie cupped her ear, screaming into the phone. “It’ll take us two hours. Get Skella. You’ve got to beat them to Chumstick. We’re on our way.”

  She slammed the phone into her pack and climbed on the bike behind me. I waited long enough for her to strap down her helmet and grab me by the waist. Then we ripped through the streets of Kent doing a hundred and twenty before we passed the second light.

  Sixty-four

  Frederick took the elevator to the top floor and made his way to the stairwell and the roof access. No one stirred this late at night—nearly midnight. Once on the roof he carefully disrobed. No point in ruining the Armani. He dropped the cell phone on the pile of clothing. He no longer needed it. There would be no further communication. The orders had been clear enough.

  He walked to the edge of the hotel and looked down the twelve or so stories to the street below. While the hotel slept, the city did not. He saw no other recourse. The transformation was quick. One minute, he stood there, naked and seemingly vulnerable; the next, his skin began to bubble and stretch. First, his back elongated, and then his limbs twisted and grew. He fell forward, catching himself on his hands and knees while the talons burst forth and the great wings unfurled from his back. As he transformed, the lights of the city waned. He drew in the power, a bite of the whole, aiding his metamorphosis.

  He stretched his broad wings, beat them against the night sky for three beats, and leapt into the sky, his scream of anger echoing off the surrounding buildings. Before the city had time to react, the cold waters of Lake Washington were already slipping below his scaled belly. He avoided the bridges, preferring the dark, open waters between.

  His instructions had been crystal clear: if he wanted to see Mr. Philips alive again, all he had to do was come take him.

  “Come in all your glory,” the snotty voice had instructed him. “Let the world quake at the sight of your true form.”

  Then the phone had gone dead. He hadn’t hesitated. There was no more important action than this. He feared no man, not even one steeped in magic. He’d destroyed wizards before, paltry humans with visions of grandeur.

  Once he’d transformed he could feel it, smell it in the air—a diseased point north and east. North of Leavenworth, they’d told him, but he needed no markers for this trip.

  And when he got there, he would kill them all. No one attacked him, not even through his thralls. The barista had been an insult, but an expendable pawn. Mr. Philips was personal.

  How had that happened? he contemplated as the mountains rose before him, cold as his heart. He flew northward along the ragged crust of the earth until the stench of corruption grew strong enough to turn him east. There, he would face this Dragon Liberation Front and its blight.

  Mr. Philips, his able servant and stalwart companion, needed him, and he was surprised to realize he needed Mr. Philips.

  He would enjoy killing this lot, would revel in the rending of their flesh and the smashing of their bones.

  And the cold night slipped under his wings, carrying him forward to rage and glory.

  Sixty-five

  Skella ran through the dark of Stanley Park, heading to the place Gletts kept the mirrors. She promised Jimmy she’d meet them at the Starbucks out on Interstate 2 west of Gold Bar, in the little town of Startup.

  When she entered the cave, she was surprised to find the mirrors smashed and the shrine Gletts had built to Sarah wrecked.

  “What the hell?” she asked, and something heavy hit the side of her head.

  Jara, the clan leader, knelt over her, feeling her skull.

  “Does my remaining grandchild live?” Unun asked, her face hard and angry.

  Jara looked up, “Yes, Unun. She will live.”

  “Good,” she said, her voice tight. “Put her in her bed and destroy that infernal artifact of the humans,” she said, pointing to the dropped cell phone. “They will no longer use her as they will. We are a proud people. Their interference is done.”

  Jara lifted Skella from the cold ground, and they walked back through the pitch night.

  “Interference has only brought us pain,” Unun said, though Jara did not respond. “I will not lose her to mad folly as well.”

  Sixty-six

  We crossed the pass at Snoqualmie and cut north on U.S. Route 97. The snow was heavy in the passes, but once we were across, the road was merely wet and slick.

  Katie sang the whole way, enveloping us in a bubble of heat. She ran through a dozen love songs, spacing them out, their magic fading slowly as the road crawled under our tires. The roads were rough, yet we managed to stay upright. I have no doubt it was her magic. She started shaking, nothing too severe, but I noticed it over the vibration of the bike. While I hoped it was just the cold, I feared the music was taking a toll on her.

  I missed the winged horses at this point more than anything. The Ducati flat flew, and Katie’s singing helped keep us stable and warm, but it still seemed to take forever.

  Every second, every heartbeat put our people in danger. Jai Li, bless her. How terrified was she? And the troll twins? So much tragedy already in their lives.

  Gram sang in my head. Kill them all.

  Save the children, yes.

  The bad guys would get no mercy.

  Luckily, Justin and his evil minions didn’t know we were coming, and if they dallied at all, we could beat them out there. Not likely, but Bub had bought us a
good deal of time.

  We screamed through Leavenworth, catching the attention of one of the local cops. I didn’t even slow down as I caught the gumball machine on the top of his car kick in and his siren warble into the night.

  Come on, you bastards, I yelled in my head. We can use all the help we can get.

  The road out to Chumstick twisted and turned up into the mountains and was bad for speed. I dropped it down to eighty, then sixty, just to make sure we didn’t end up roadkill. The sheriff or one of his deputies—I didn’t get a good look when he started after us—knew the roads better than I did, and he or she slowed way down. By the third curve I had it down to forty, and the cop had disappeared two bends back. I could see his lights flashing across the clouds, reflected off the mountain, though, so I knew he or she was still coming.

  Once we got through the wide spot that’s Chumstick, we roared around one final curve and saw a second cop car parked across the road, lights flashing, door open. Two burning trucks blocked the road in front of Anezka’s place, which loomed large on the right side of the road.

  I slammed on the brakes. We skidded sideways. I barely kept the bike upright with the speed and slush. Katie, bless her, kept a death grip around my waist and didn’t fly off.

  She did get off the bike fairly quickly once we’d come to a stop. I can’t imagine how I’d have kept the bike upright in my trainers. My Doc Martens were golden, though the soles may be missing a layer or two.

  The dome over Anezka’s house glowed a sickly phosphorous green, casting strange shadows from the puppet show within. Things were moving inside the dome, some of them big.

  We were walking over to the police cruiser when a civilian car came screaming around the curve from the north. Katie and I ran to the side as the driver saw the burning trucks, too late. He pulled hard on the wheel, trying to avoid the trucks. With the short distance, his speed, and the ice, the little sedan flipped and rolled several times, smashing into the burning trucks.

  I ran forward but was blasted back as the vehicle exploded. I doubted they’d survive that, much less be identifiable by anything other than dental records.

  Katie climbed to her feet and crossed over to the police car. I limped after her, shedding gravel and mud as best I could. Luckily I’d landed on my knee, so it only hurt a lot.

  The car was empty, but there were shell casings scattered around and blood on the snow by the car. Shots fired, officer down? Was the deputy following me, or responding to a call?

  The second sheriff car came to a skidding halt fifty feet back down the road from the way we’d come. They cut the siren, but left the bubbles flashing.

  I went to the bike and walked it off to the side of the road in case someone else didn’t notice the huge burning pyre of smashed metal or the flashing lights of the abandoned cop car. I pulled the hammers from my saddlebags and settled their familiar weight into the holsters at my hips.

  “Got any of those energy bars?” Katie asked. She looked pretty pale.

  I dug in the saddlebags and brought out a bar and a bottle of water. Katie took them, her hands shaking.

  I watched her as she wolfed down the protein bar. I’d have to keep an eye on her; using her music was draining her after all. I didn’t like the implications.

  Katie downed the bottle of water, and we headed back to the second cop car, hands in the air. There was only one officer in the car. He’d gotten out and had drawn his revolver, aiming at us from behind his open door.

  “Stay where you are,” he yelled.

  We stopped.

  “Look,” I shouted. “You followed us. We have friends stationed out here; we need to check on them.”

  “Don’t move,” he called. I could see he had the radio in his right hand and the pistol in his left. We didn’t move, waiting for Johnny Jump-Up to come to his senses. We could hear his radio squawking. After a few minutes, he threw the mike into the car and came out from behind his door. He held the pistol on us, shoved the car door closed with his hip, and started walking toward us.

  “We’re with Black Briar,” Katie said, motioning to Gram over my shoulder. “We’re looking to see if our people are okay. The sheriff knows about us.”

  He lowered his pistol when he got closer. “Yeah, he told us to cut you folks some slack,” he said. “But dispatch says the sheriff was out here. You seen him?”

  I shrugged. “Only got here a couple a seconds ahead of you, officer.” With shots fired, all that blood and no body, I figured he was already dead. What really surprised me, though, was that we hadn’t seen anyone here associated with Justin and his crew yet. The deputy was a young guy, Katie’s age, maybe, and scared out of his mind. This was normally a pretty tame beat. Mostly drunk and disorderly in town and some speeding when the tourists were in town.

  “You need to let us check on our friends,” Katie said.

  It sounded like she was giving him a command. Either way, he nodded and motioned with his gun. “I need to check on the sheriff. Hang on.”

  He went to the abandoned car. I looked past the burning vehicles and into the area up into the hills. We’d been so busy not crashing, we hadn’t noticed the fires burning up the hills beyond Anezka’s place. If I stepped away from the burning trucks, I could just make out people milling around up there. Not that far, few hundred yards at most. What was keeping them?

  The cave had to be that way, and if I were Justin, that’s where I’d be taking the hostages. He had some plan that likely involved sacrifice and blood. We had a little bit of time, but not much.

  The junior officer reached into the sheriff’s car and picked up the mike. He radioed in to headquarters.

  “Kelly, this is Cam. Sheriff’s missing, shell casings all over the place, and a hella lot of blood. Can you call in the state boys? I’m here with a couple of the Black Briar folks, over.”

  He motioned with his head, giving us permission to go look for our people. We jogged over to the Black Briar encampment. It was smashed: tents rent open, honey bucket overturned, and two bodies down.

  One was ours, but not the second. Katie checked our guy, but he was way too dead. They’d taken his fingers.

  The second was facedown, dressed in a hooded cloak. I guessed a guy by the build, but a dead one by all the blood. I flipped him over. He had a couple crossbow bolts in his chest. I pulled his hood off his face and found quite a surprise. It was an elf. Son of a bitch!

  “Katie,” I called to her. “It’s one of Skella’s people.”

  She stood and walked over. She had tears on her face, but she was pissed. “Anyone we know?” she asked.

  I looked at the guy again. Being dead changed the way your face looks in general, muscles all relax, blood pools, that sort of thing. Still, I recognized this guy. I didn’t really know him, but he wasn’t in the Sarah and Katie fan club.

  “He was one of those that kept staring at us the last time we were up to Vancouver, remember? He was chopping wood when we walked by. Skella said he didn’t like that she brought us into their village.”

  “Hope that means Skella is still on our side,” Katie said, stepping around the bodies. “They butchered Lonnie, cut off his fingers.”

  I shuddered. Why the hell would they cut off someone’s fingers?

  “We waiting for Jimmy?” I asked. I know what my answer was. There were three more of our people out here. Where were they?

  “No,” she said. She pulled her guitar off her back, took it out of the case, and strummed a few chords. “Let’s try that new song you found me, huh?”

  She began to sing the eerie little ditty. On the one hand, it made you want to tap your toes and snap your fingers, but on the other, it made you want to look over your shoulder for the monster you didn’t see coming.

  Almost immediately, her nose started bleeding, but she sang through it twice. It showed us two things. One was a trail going off into the mountains, a glittering path of phosphorescent contrails that marked the passage of a large group. The second was
another of our crew, dead. We hadn’t seen her—Abrielle was down a slope, fifty feet away from the main camp. She’d run, by the looks of things, not that it helped her. She’d fallen down an embankment, looked pretty broke up from the top side. It would take some climbing to get her, but she wasn’t moving.

  I was debating on how to climb down to make sure she wasn’t still alive somehow, when the sound of several vehicles came roaring from up on the road.

  We scrambled back up the slope to the camp and saw Jimmy and Stuart with a dozen of our people decked out in armor and weapons. Three pick-ups total.

  They went around the first cop car, slow enough to make sure no one was inside, and pulled up near the wreckage, where the deputy stood beside the sheriff’s car.

  The three trucks rolled to a stop and folks piled out. Jimmy went straight for the deputy, who had taken the scatter gun from the sheriff’s car and was watching across the road.

  Katie went to intercept Jim, and I headed for Stuart. I was pleased to see that he had some veterans with him, including Kyle George. Stuart nodded at me and got the crew into a skirmish line. Never know when the attack was gonna come.

  I pulled Stuart aside, gave him the rundown on what I knew. He was surprised we’d beat them out here, but when I pointed to the Ducati he just shook his head.

  “So, we figure either they have Steve and Jayden, or they were out on patrol and are hiding somewhere. Not like anyone could miss all this,” I swept my hand to encompass the still-burning vehicles, “unless you were already dead.”

  “Lovely,” he said, scrubbing his face. “Deidre’s calling in the rest of the troops, and they’re trying to figure a way how to get them out here. Skella was a no-show.”

  Damn. I told him about the one cultist we’d found, and he followed me over to the camp. He knelt and examined the body. “Good shooting, at least.” He looked around. “That Lonnie?” he asked, pointing to the body nearby.