by K. F. Breene
Pride flashed across Callie’s expression before unease settled in. “No. As part of his training method, he tried to force her into survival mode. Well, he succeeded, all right. And she nearly blew his house apart.” She proceeded to tell him about Penny killing four new vampires, somehow scaring a fifth (he hadn’t realized that was possible) and awakening an extremely old vampire that had been in a sort of stupor.
She finished, “Darius was not expecting that dinner to go as it did.”
A grin worked through his concern. That was the thing about Penny: no one could ever predict the outcome of a situation when she was stuck in the middle of it. He loved that about her. The innocent volatility. The excitement and challenge that she created over the normal course of her day.
His heart ached. He missed her something rotten. Which would make it extremely awkward when he had to see her with someone else. Extremely awkward.
“Her power is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed,” he said as she took down a bottle of whiskey. “I can see how she wouldn’t respond to the normal training. Though her choking in a mock battle is…”
“Alarming.” Callie nodded. “I know. It has made me wonder. Her survival magic hasn’t failed her yet, but she has absolutely no control over what she does with it.”
“And she was…unhurt after that dinner, I assume?” he asked tentatively, afraid of the answer. Afraid of how much he cared about the answer.
Callie paused in pouring drinks, her gaze roaming his face before resting on his eyes. “You really do care for her. Dizzy was right.”
“Yes, and I don’t want to see her come to harm.”
She went back to pouring drinks. “Other than a few blisters on her feet from those God-awful cheap shoes I told her to return, she was unhurt, yes. Though she did need to ask a bunch of derelict shifter barflies for help.”
He gripped the edge of the countertop. “What’s this now?”
“Don’t worry.” She patted his forearm. “Reagan came to the rescue. That’s whose house she is in now. No safer place, trust me. She probably should’ve gone there first.”
“Who is Reagan?”
“A friend of mine. She has very powerful magic and is bonded to Darius.”
“She’s—” He felt his eyes widen in surprise. “Darius bonded someone? I wouldn’t think he’d stoop to binding himself to a human, magical or otherwise.”
“She’s not just any magical human, and yeah, she bonded him. It was necessary at the time, and she says she’d do it again, but I think she’s a damn fool.”
“I’d have to agree.”
“So now Penny is training with Reagan, and it seems to be going really well. Or so Reagan says. If it couldn’t be me, at least it’s her and not some conniving, egotistical, selfish vampire.”
Emery ignored the smack talk about vampires. Darius had his uses, but Emery generally thought along the same lines. Most people who weren’t vampires did. “Reagan is a mage?”
“No. More of a…mutt.”
He was losing his patience for this conversation, hating these non-answers. “Does she know how big of a disaster Penny can be?”
“Trust me, Penny is nothing compared to Reagan.”
“And yet you think the setup is a good one?”
Callie’s eyebrows lowered. “There’s a difference between caring about someone and being overbearing. You’d do best to remember that. And yes, I do. Because Reagan can handle herself, and she can handle anything Penny might throw at her, including intense spells. That woman is a walking spell encyclopedia. Like I said, Penny is in good hands.”
“But what if Penny is out in the world and freezes up again?”
Callie took a sip of her whiskey. “Impossible. Penny is stuck working her butt off within an extremely powerful ward. So far as we know, the Guild hasn’t locked on her location yet. And before you ask how we could know that, just trust me. Reagan’s neighborhood watch is particularly vigilant. If Penny freezes up, it’ll be in the safety of Reagan’s house.”
“And if Penny leaves?”
“If you knew her at all, you’d know she’s a rule follower. She won’t leave.”
His knuckles turned white where they gripped the countertop. He did know her, and yes, she was a rule follower…up to a certain point. But if what she called her temperamental third eye convinced her to get into mischief, she’d run at it full steam. She wouldn’t stay put for long.
If she was freezing up, it meant something was blocking her use of her considerable power. Probably the integration of a different way of working magic, one that didn’t feel natural to her. Until that issue was completely worked out, she’d have times when the spells just wouldn’t come. He knew that from experience.
And if the Guild was there to cash in on just one of those occasions, she’d be a sitting duck, easy prey.
“Call her. Call them both. I need to speak to them. Now.”
25
Reagan’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She fished it out and glanced at the screen. “Callie calling. She needs her daily rant before she goes to bed.” Reagan silenced it and put it back in her pocket. “We’ll call her back when this is done. You might want to silence your phone, too. Or turn it off. If it goes off when we’re sneaking around, that could become a very bad situation.”
I tapped my pockets as I tiptoed through the grass behind her, completely exposed. “I left it in the car.”
“Not married to your phone, huh? I’m jealous.”
“Shouldn’t we have a plan? The others stayed behind to come up with a plan. I feel like a plan, even something totally basic, like what we’re doing right now, would serve us well.”
“Plans get you killed.”
I chewed my lip and avoided a reaching shadow from one of the enormous trees off to the right. “I feel like you’re mistaken on that one.”
“In situations involving wily creatures who excel at improvisation, the last thing you want to do is stay married to a plan. You’ll end up trapped. Trust me on that. This isn’t my first rodeo. What you have to do is know your opponent, and act accordingly.”
“Right, sure.” We angled to the left corner of the massive house in front of us, its front entrance still and silent. “Except I don’t know a poo-tossing monkey’s hindquarters about my opponent.”
Reagan glanced back. “A what? Never mind. Look, check it out.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing back the way we’d come. “First, their plans haven’t worked yet. This is their third attempt, and they are down peacekeepers—the people who are supposed to go after bad guys—because the banshee injured a few. They’re out of their league. The captain knows this. Usually at this point he’d hire me for the job and leave his people at home, but he probably suspects I can’t do it alone.”
“Then why did he send you in here alone?”
“He didn’t. He sent me with you.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”
“I was kidding. No, you probably won’t be much help, but at least you’ll get a little experience, amiright?” We reached the corner of the house and she slowed down, walking more quietly now. “He sent me alone and kept them back to ‘plan’ to give me a second to scout this on my own. He’ll see if I can handle it alone, and if not, he’ll rush in to save the day. That’s why he gave me the ear piece.” She touched her left ear.
“It would’ve been nice to get one of those,” I muttered.
“Nah. I doubt I’ll have it long. They’re annoying. So. About the opponent.” She dropped to a whisper as she slowly worked her way along the side of the house, keeping as close to the house as the shrubbery would allow. “Do you know what a banshee is?”
“Something that wails. And has to do with death.”
“In essence, it’s the red-headed stepchild of the fairies. Do you know what they are?”
“Like Tinker Bell?”
“Right…” She drew the word out, not agreeing with me so much as bemoaning my lack of magical knowledge.
> “I’m new to all this,” I said apologetically.
“Clearly. Right, so usually a banshee isn’t a bad thing. Annoying as all get-out, with their loud, obnoxious wailing at all hours of the night, but usually they don’t do any killing. Their cries are basically a forewarning someone’s about to die. Think of them as Seers. When the person dies, the banshee helps them into Death’s chariot, or so the myths say—I’ve never seen this fabled chariot—and wishes them farewell. So that’s pretty nice.
“Banshees can also use their power to help ease the transition from life to death. This might happen, say, if someone is very sick, won’t ever get better, and is suffering. The banshee will cradle them into the afterlife and onto the chariot. She’s a rather nice lady in times of strife, with a fiercely bad, and mostly undeserved, reputation as a bringer of death. Welcome to being a woman—always blamed for shit going wrong whether it’s our fault or not.”
“So banshees aren’t actually harmful.”
“Usually, no. Once the person dies, the banshee moves on.”
“But this one hasn’t.”
“Look at you, noticing the extreme obvious.”
I opened my mouth, willing a witty comeback, but came up dry.
“Banshees, like anything, can go bad,” Reagan whispered, slowing to a stop as she neared the rear corner of the house. She crouched and waited for me to crouch with her. “They have the power to kill. They can force someone into the afterlife. They don’t even have to put the poor sod on the chariot—they can let the soul they’ve released wander aimlessly. So, she can be a lovely lady, or serious asshole.”
“How does she kill?”
“There you go. Now you’re asking intelligent questions.” Reagan looked out across the grounds. Most of it was wide open, but beyond the back corner of the house, various bushes, trees, and shrubs cut into our visibility. “The easiest way is to don the form of a young woman and lure men to her side. That’s quite easy, as I’m sure you can guess. Once they’re within striking distance, she embraces them, and wrestles them across the line between living and dead.”
“So don’t let her hug you.”
“Yes, obviously. You’re not a hugger anyway, right?”
“I’m socially awkward.”
“Excellent. See? You were made for this gig.”
I got the feeling she was making fun of me, but she was so deadpan that I couldn’t really say.
“She has a couple forms, and she has her wail. The wail cannot hurt you. The creature cannot hurt you from a distance. But she is a glider. A fast glider. Not as fast as a vampire, but faster than you. She’ll launch herself at you, wrap her hands around your head, and muscle you out of this life.”
A shiver skittered across my skin before punching cold through my middle. “What other forms does she take?”
“Young woman, stately middle-aged woman, and an old crone. She’ll be in a lovely dress, twisted sheets that have no place in this century, or some sort of robe. Oh, and occasionally she poses as a washerwoman trying to get stains out of bloody clothes.”
“Uh-huh.” Adrenaline pumped through me. “How do we kill it?”
“How do you kill it? I have no idea. Magic, is my guess. As for me, I will stab my sword through its middle. Or yank its head off and set it on magical fire. Or maybe crush it. I haven’t tried to use my other form of magic on one of these, so that might be fun. I’m anxious to try it out. But worst case, my sword. Ol’ trusty.”
She fell into silence, clearly thinking about the battle to come. I blinked at her.
“So.” She slapped my knee and I jumped. “Ready?”
“But…”
Reagan was up and walking again. “She apparently likes to hang out around the fountain back here. If she’s in the world of the living, she will be visible. But she can cross over, so be prepared for her to wink out. Oh, and keep moving around. I don’t think the crossing is a quick, easy affair, but just in case, you don’t want her disappearing from one spot and popping up right next to you. That’s a sure way to die.”
Adrenaline soaked my body and set my heart to beating at unnatural speeds. Sweat covered my forehead and upper lip, giving me a chill in the nighttime air. Tremors and tingles and all manner of fear-induced issues racked my body.
“Why did you let me come?” I asked with numb lips.
Reagan was a badass powerhouse who’d lived this life for a very long time. I was a goober who bumped around blindly, swimming in the deep end when I wasn’t prepared.
What had possessed me to think I could hang out on the same playing field? To think I could actually help her if we came face to face with danger?
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” she said, blasé. “I’ve dealt with ten times worse. Remind me to tell you about the aswang one day.”
We finally reached the rear corner of the house and got a view of the large, circular fountain, currently turned off. Little patches of trees and shrubs marked the corners of the larger concert area, surrounded by a series of smaller trees and bushes. Beyond those lay the wilder grounds. No other houses or establishments existed for miles.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Reagan said quietly, pulling out her sword.
I collected magic and half wished I had a sword of my own. If nothing else, it would be a great prop to let the creature know I meant business.
“Don’t think about which spell you’ll use,” she said quietly, walking to the center of the concrete area. The back door was behind us, the fountain directly in front of us.
My mental Rolodex stopped spinning.
“Do that balance thing,” she said. “You know, the witch thing.”
My legs trembled and my chest felt strange, heavy and anxious but also desperate to expand. It was like waiting in line to enter a horror house on Halloween, only the horror house had real haunts.
“Training exists to commit spells and combat into your muscle memory,” she said, even now training. How did she have the mental capacity?
Leaves rustling to the right stopped our forward movement.
Reagan didn’t brace herself like I expected she would. Like I had. Her body stayed loose and at ease, holding her sword a little drooped. She didn’t even clench her teeth in anticipation of an attack.
I pried my jaw open.
Silence lay over the scene like a heavy film, suspending us in time, keeping us put while the banshee circled her prey, licking her chops and clicking her claws.
My imagination was in overdrive again. Nothing had happened but a little rustling.
I took a shaky breath as Reagan started forward, each step soft and strategic. Her knees bent. Her eyes darting this way and that. Totally calm.
Next to her, my feet scraped the concrete. My legs moved in jerky fits and surges and my nails were picked to nubs.
The oppressive darkness pressed on us, crushing us to the ground. Pushing against us.
A soft sound, like a footfall, had Reagan stopping again.
“Are you doing that balance thing?” she asked softly, her hand drifting through the air toward me.
I collected my ingredients, stuffing them in the air around me. That part was extremely easy. I did it constantly, often without intending to. But the soft feeling of the world around me was interrupted by my heightened senses, screaming at me that something was here. Watching our progress from the shadows. Her eyes itched the skin between my shoulder blades, and I imagined her poking my temple with a long, pointed claw.
Was that my intuition or my imagination? In times like this, I could never tell.
“Are you doing the balance thing?” Reagan asked again, her tone like a spring day near a tranquil pond.
“It pisses me off that you are so damn calm.”
“Yikes. So that’s a no. Listen, getting worked up isn’t going to help anything. In fact, it’ll slow you down in the long run. It’ll lead you to bad decisions. You need to relax and take in the night. Open up that intuition that I know you have
in spades and listen to it.”
My breath came too fast, and trying to slow it down only reminded me of how much I was shaking.
“I’ve never been a fan of the unknown,” I said.
“Yeah. This waiting bullshit is the pits. I hate it.” She looked to the left, then swept her gaze in front of us as we reached the edge of the fountain. With a firm hand, she pushed me to the right while she drifted left.
“No, no, no,” I whispered furiously, not moving any farther. “What are you doing?”
“It’s too quiet, don’t you think?” She kept going. “No animals skittering about, no angry bird calls, no insects.”
“Yes, I do think. I definitely do think. So we should stay together.”
“We are together. You’re right there. Now pay attention in case something darts out at you from that side.”
26
I spun in that direction, squinting through the darkness.
“Dang it,” Reagan muttered.
“What? What is it?”
“We don’t see anything yet. Give us a little more time.”
“What?” I chanced a look over at her. She was dropping her hand from her ear, having advised the others to hang back. “Won’t more people be merrier?”
“Not those clowns. The captain is all right, but he’s seen his day. He usually hangs back, and then Garret gets all up in my business.”
I hurried along the periphery of the fountain, slowing down at the halfway point to be level with her. The sooner we met up, the better. In the meantime, I eyed the murky water separating us. If I had to, I’d sprint across that without a problem. I wouldn’t be fazed in the least.
A twig cracked, startling me, and movement caught my eye. A woman with an hourglass figure and long, flowing hair moved through a gap in the foliage beyond the cement enclosure. Colorful streams of magic flowed around her, wispy but bright. Gleeful intent that should have been paired with cackling beckoned us near, drawing us in.
“She wants us to follow her,” I said, cold flowing over my skin. My impulse was to run back the way I’d come, refusing the magic’s invitation.
