by Lee Roland
“And you believe everything you’re told?”
“No. I guess my life would be less complicated if I did.” Life would be so boring without some adventure. The practice and study Marisol loved so much burned my soul. I created my own chaos and I lived with it.
Drops of water spattered on the windshield and the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance. It was a nice steady ride through light and dark until we came upon a bunch of cars with flashing blue lights.
“Shit!” Etienne hit the steering wheel with his hand. He stared around, looking for an escape. There was none. There were no side streets and driving over the sidewalk was bound to attract attention.
“It’s only a license check,” I said. “You forget to renew?”
He’d stopped the SUV and a car behind us honked, urging us to continue. It also caused the police officers to pay attention. There was nothing we could do.
A uniformed officer approached the driver’s window. He looked young, handsome, more like a Boy Scout than a cop. He wore a sharp neat uniform, now wet on the shoulders from the misty rain, and carried a gun: a big, black gun strapped in a holster at his waist. I suppose that defined him in spite of his youthful appearance. Etienne handed him a driver’s license and the registration for the vehicle he’d pulled from behind a visor. He hadn’t pulled the license from his wallet as most men would have. Trouble was at hand.
The officer frowned and stared at it a long time. He glanced at me once, then went back to his study of the license.
“Sir!” The young cop spoke forcefully with the crisp authoritative air that he’d obviously been trained to use to control the general populace. “Would you pull over onto the side of the road?”
“Sure,” Etienne said. He complied with the order and pulled over.
The rain created a misty sheen on the windshield and had grown to a soft steady hiss on the trees and pavement. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by low rumbling thunder. At that point, it seemed like the police should abandon their roadblock and head for some drier place. A few moved to do just that. Damn, the timing. The car behind us was waved on through without a check.
Etienne’s body radiated tension like a stealthy cat ready to spring on its prey. Everything about him said he was prepared to explode into action. Action that would have a deadly purpose—and possibly deadly results.
I could see the officer with Etienne’s driver’s license calling his fellow officer’s attention to it. Etienne’s nervousness had infected me. I flinched when another officer tapped on my window. I powered the window down and he demanded my license. I handed him my narrow wallet and instantly realized my mistake. My wallet also contained my California PI license, something I hadn’t planned to flash around. The officer walked away. He took my wallet with him.
“Are we in trouble?” I asked Etienne.
“There are warrants out on me.” His voice was terse. “The name on the driver’s license is fake, but someone may have seen my photos. I’ve been told I’m popular on posters in the post office.” He popped his seat belt. “I’m going to run. They’ll probably shoot at me, so don’t you follow. Tell them I’m just a stranger who offered you a ride. You should be okay.”
I grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’ll create a diversion and we can both leave.”
Etienne had taken me to Abigail and that had placed him in danger with the authorities. Having been in that position several times, albeit not in the US, I could empathize. I gathered my magic, a bit too quickly, and sent it out to fry the vehicle wiring as I had last night when under attack. And it had the same effect—on everything. Streetlights, vehicle lights, headlights, and flashing blue lights blasted into brilliance they’d never been intended to provide. One second, for a hundred yards around me, they lit up the area like old-time flashbulbs. Then all burst like balloons and plunged the area into darkness filled with shattered glass. Unfortunately, the burned-out lights and wiring included those of our own vehicle. We weren’t going to drive away. Shit!
“Now we run.” I opened my door and dropped to the ground. Etienne climbed over the console and landed beside me. He was clumsy, feeling his way around. I grabbed his hand. “Let me lead you,” I whispered. “I can see in the dark.”
Unfortunately, my little fireworks show again didn’t include flashlights. One beam flashed over us and someone shouted, “Halt.” We were quickly surrounded by menacing men who pointed flashlights and guns.
I stood on the earth, though, and still carried the magic.
“Get down on the ground!” multiple voices shouted, forceful, demanding, as if the hostile reverberation would force us off our feet.
My rational brain said to let them take Etienne. I could not. He was one of us. The Earth Mother’s special children. The High Witch accepted him on that level, so I was obligated to do the same.
I could, if I chose, set every vehicle around us on fire. I would not. The flame, once sparked, would consume everything around. It could trap people.
Controlling the weather is a skill learned after many years with a powerful witch standing over you. Not my thing. But when you have nothing else . . . All I could do was grab part of the storm and let it crash down upon us. At the same time, I built a small, carefully constructed shield over Etienne and me.
Lightning leaped to a massive blinding strike on a power pole not far away. The enormous sound blasted our eardrums and shook the ground. I flinched and ducked, along with everyone else. We were too close to unpredictable violence. Earth magic picked up some of the energy. In a rare display, it danced around the vehicles, skimming their metal skins, crackling, snapping like fire imps on a rampage.
Great Mother, what had I done?
Water came next. A Look, I’m standing under Niagara Falls flood poured down and spread across the land.
I did not have that kind or amount of power.
Etienne and I stood frozen. Stupid!
“Let’s go,” I shouted over the cyclonic deluge. He probably didn’t hear me. I grabbed his hand. I carried the small shield I’d formed over us as we bolted, dashing through the prostrate struggling bodies of the police. The flood had forced them to their knees. The shield kept the pounding from above from flattening us to the pavement like everyone else, but the wind swirled under and around, lashing us with whips of water. We made little progress at first, having to battle the wind and water, but soon we were free of the clump of vehicles and racing away.
The area around us consisted of homes with the occasional shop. Residential yard fences could be a problem if we cut too far off the main street. Etienne slowed me down considerably as I guided him in the darkness. At least I’d managed to take out the streetlights for a good distance. I had to search for a reasonable path in the night, one where he could move freely along, directed only by my hand. He squeezed it too tight at times, crushing my fingers. He followed, though, blind in the dark, but without hesitation.
We slowed to a fast walk and made our way around closed businesses, open convenience stores, and through a residential alley where the occasional yard dog barked to mark our passage. If we actually had pursuers, we left them far behind. It would take time to send for patrols to track us. We were soaked, of course, since it still rained and I’d dropped the shield as soon as we left the maelstrom. That rain slowed to a cold drizzle.
“How far are we from the Barrows?” I asked.
“Half a mile.” He didn’t sound winded. He did pull out his phone and make a call. He told the person answering to report the SUV stolen as of earlier that afternoon. “You know it’s a myth,” he said to me. “That the cops don’t go into the Barrows. They patrol the docks on a regular basis and occasionally River Street. They just don’t go into the ruins.”
“Is that how you hide a small army there?”
“It is. I’m told there’s a spell. Some people don’t see some things. I’ve been told that the police are prone to forgetting crimes that happen down here.”
“I guess I unde
rstand that. I sort of burned a big truck in front of Laudine’s last night. Nobody came to investigate.” I had no idea how that particular magic worked nor did I need to know. I really did want to know who moved the truck carcass before I woke.
Etienne caught my arm and jerked me to a stop. “Are you usually so stupid?”
“What?” I twisted my arm from his hand.
“Why didn’t you let it be? They have your ID now. You ran with me. If you hadn’t, there would be questions, but they’d probably let you go.”
“I don’t do probably. Let’s keep moving. I’ll try to explain.”
He followed me without a word. How did I explain the dynamic of my life? “Look, I don’t know how much you know about witches, but—”
“I know entirely too much about witches.” Rage filled his voice as he spit out the words. He walked beside me at a steady pace, even in the semidarkness.
“Okay, it’s obvious you know too much about some witches. Can you compare that to Abigail? To me?”
He said nothing, so I continued. “When I was a guard, I worked for Darrow. He and I were part of a team. I know you understand that. When one of us got into trouble, the others were there. Witches, Sisters of Justice, and certain people involved with them are singled out and drawn together by the Earth Mother. We belong to her. Team Earth Mother.” I laughed too loud, and heard the bitterness in my voice. I punched my fist into the air. “Go Team.”
“I don’t want—”
“You don’t have a choice. Neither did I. I was born, you were chosen. It’s not negotiable.” Chosen sounded good. More likely he’d been caught up in a trap set by the witch who caused him to hate all of us. That set him in the Mother’s sights and she claimed him. It made no difference.
“We’re stuck with it, Etienne.” I chuckled. “You’re really on wanted posters in the post office?”
“Oh, yeah. For all you know, I’m a serial killer who buries his bodies in the ruins.”
That seemed a sensible statement, but I had an answer. “No, Abigail would have spotted a serial killer in an instant. And I’d give good odds that she would bury anyone of that kind in her backyard so he wouldn’t kill again. She likes you.” I didn’t want to encourage his ego. “Of course, Abigail hasn’t had to put up with your control-freak shit like I have.”
He didn’t reply and gave no hint of what he was thinking.
I noted when we passed through the ward around the Barrows, but I kept us to the darker areas. My clothes were wet and clammy, clinging to my body, and my shoes squished out bubbles of water as I walked. The wind coming off the Bog chilled what should have been a warm evening. I wanted clean dry clothes, but I had something else to do.
I still wasn’t tired. While I had used some magic to draw the storm down and hold a shield over us, that magnitude of weather control didn’t come from me. Had Abigail sensed our need and aided us? This was a mystery I wouldn’t solve immediately.
Etienne had relaxed considerably after we passed the ward. He probably felt it unconsciously. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, almost playful. “Darrow told me about a couple of your adventures. He said he understands now how they might have happened. The Barrows taught him . . . things.”
“Darrow exaggerates.” I kicked a beer can out of the way. “My car is parked in a few more blocks. I’ll take you to your place.”
“No. I’m sticking with you. I’m having too much fun.” He smiled. He may not have intended me to see that smile since we stood shrouded in darkness and he was virtually blind. “Besides”—he slid an arm around my shoulders—“I now owe you a favor. I pay my debts.”
I stopped and twisted from under his arm. I could say I’d developed a tiny bit of fondness for him, but I wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. Especially since he’d so rudely rejected me earlier.
“I’m going to Laudine’s,” I said. “I need to find my dog.”
“Then you and your dog come back to the compound with me.”
The firm tone in his voice sounded like an order, not a request. While I didn’t like that, I didn’t like the other immediately available options. Stay with Laudine or leave the Barrows. Neither suited me. Laudine had done nothing other than scald me with irritation that Gran sent me and hadn’t come herself. At least Etienne had taken me to Abigail, apparently at considerable risk to himself. All Laudine had done was warn me away from the High Witch. I’d finish with my plan for the next hour, then decide where to stay. Getting a room would be difficult without my wallet, money, and credit cards.
The sidewalks where we made our way were empty and only an occasional car passed by, tires hissing on the wet streets.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“Probably hiding. That storm you stirred up back there had to be felt. Crazy things happen in the Barrows sometimes,” Etienne said. “People who live here feel it and stay inside. Safe. Or so I’m told.”
“By Madeline?”
“And others.”
We continued on in silence until we came to the block where my car was parked. I released the spell I’d placed on it. The spell whispered that more than one person had tried to touch it. My trusty backpack lay on the floor of the backseat where I’d stowed it. There was still little traffic as we climbed in and drove toward Laudine’s. At least the rain had stopped.
“Nice car,” Etienne said. I’d actually seen him smile when the engine rumbled to life. He ran his hand over the still immaculate leather.
The hour approached midnight and I wanted to try something. I wanted to use Herschel as my familiar, too. I hadn’t had him around for the past ten years, but it seemed right to make up for lost time. That’s what a witch’s familiar was for, right? To be used. To help me out? Besides, he owed me for conspiring with the Sisters on my capture. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of the store. He growled at Etienne when we climbed out.
“I know,” I told him. “I don’t like him, either. I’ll let you chase him off when we’re done with him.” I patted him on his substantial head. “Did you get something to eat?”
Herschel farted. I took that as a yes.
I stared around, looking for the best place to try my experiment. The city had decided that the mostly unused cul-de-sac required streetlights, probably to help keep cars from plunging through the pathetic rail fence and into the Bog. I didn’t need the light, but I expected it comforted a fighter like Etienne. Clouds boiled low here, just above the lights, heavy and poised to descend and mask everything. The usual fresh clean air that often followed a rainstorm didn’t come this time.
I wanted to be on the earth, not asphalt. I moved to the edge of the Bog where the pavement ended. “You should stand away,” I told Etienne. “I’m probably going to set off some fireworks.”
He moved about twenty feet and crouched and leaned against the fence. He broadcast suspicion and wariness with each movement and kept his eyes on me. I wondered if I could ever get him to tell his story. Witches could be evil. That’s why the Sisters of Justice existed.
The hours of the day, the cycle of sun and moon, actually did have an effect on earth magic. Midnight, noon, full moon, dark moon, the solstice, counted as peaks, optimal times. Every witch knew that. Since I lived a life with little ritual, I usually ignored them. Now I wanted to use midnight. Since my clothes were already soaked, I sat cross-legged on the very icky wet dirt with a reluctant Herschel beside me. I’d had to grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him across the asphalt to the correct place. My ass would be coated in mud before I rose. So would Herschel’s. I understood his reluctance.
I’d done witchcraft in the past with Herschel, but only minor stuff. It had made me as uncomfortable as it did him and while it amplified my power, it often produced unpredictable results. The last time I tried using him, every bird within a few miles of Gran’s house landed on the roof—thousands of them. Gran made me take a hose and ladder, chase them away, and wash all the shit off. All I wanted was a better TV signa
l. I laid a hand on Herschel’s head and one on the earth.
“Fire,” I said. This was my thing, something that ran in my blood. A circle of fire sprang up around me, much as it had at my rendezvous with Dervick earlier in the day. Other witches would draw a pentagram. This was my fire, my version of a pentagram and circle. It was my witch’s magic, and would protect and aid me. It wouldn’t burn me, but I’d cautioned Etienne to move farther away.
I turned my attention to Herschel. I became aware of him, aware in a way I’d never known before. Oh, I had been away too long. I had never met this Herschel. He carried his own power, which didn’t surprise me, but I’d never seen him as he was when I stroked my hand over his skin. His aura was not that of the wolf that might be expected, but that of a substantial beast who breathed flame and roared like a thousand lions in the savanna. Was this because of the Barrows?
I wanted to stop, talk to him, explore him, but I was already committed to another path. I closed my eyes and reached out to the magic. I’d been taught that the world itself was the Earth Mother’s corporeal form. Her heart was at its molten core. The magic was the blood coursing through her veins. It ran through all humanity, though only the witches and a few select others could touch it.
I wanted to do a sending, a magical form of communication. I’d only tried it once before when I was fourteen. It caused me a four-day sick headache and Herschel puked everything he ate for a week. Herschel puking is far worse than farting.
“Please, Mother, let me do this right.” I whispered a prayer into the night. I willed the flames higher and drew the magic into my mind and body. When I did the sending, I would add something of myself so all who could hear it would know who I was.
With my hand on Herschel’s head, I asked for his power, his will, to aid my call. Something both strange and terrifying happened then. Herschel suddenly drew something from me. Some obscure part of me I didn’t know existed. I thought I knew fire, but the fire that burst out at that moment soared beyond my comprehension.
