by Jim Stein
“The cute blonde?” Randy asked. “I thought—”
A dark shape flew from the shadows and slammed him into the grass beyond the railing. The spotlights illuminating the building winked out with a soft pop, plunging us into near darkness.
“What the—” Randy broke off into heavy coughing.
Dark spittle sprayed from his mouth and coated his chin. An animal half again the size of Max crouched over him. It rose on hind legs with an angry feline hiss.
“Ed, Light!” Quinn called.
I grabbed at a sharp jazz riff and threw a crude flare of Fire onto the ground. The creature towering over Randy had half the fur burned away from its left side exposing newly scarred skin. Its head whipped around, and enormous yellow cat-eyes fastening on Quinn.
“It survived!” She yelled, as water crested over the trail ahead.
But the wave Quinn sent lost momentum as it crossed the ground. The cat-thing that attacked us in New Philadelphia snarled and advanced through the ankle-deep water. Quinn clenched her hand, sending water up the muscular legs, but a shake of its torso and pulse of oily magic reversed the torrent. It turned back when Randy coughed and struggled to rise.
Randy was too busy trying to clear his lungs to realize his danger. He spit out another wad, got to his hands and knees, but his drumsticks caught in the grass. A clawed foot slammed him back down.
Rage turned the world crimson. I’d burn the bastard to the ground this time. Fall Out Boy took care of the locusts, and the melody of “Light Em Up” rose with my anger. I clamped down hard, realizing I could easily incinerate the drummer. Holding back the hungry flames hurt. My chest ached as I throttled the spell into compact bursts of flame to drive the cat back.
It was ready for my magic this time. A sweeping fore claw sent a spray of water up to intercept the first fireball. I fired off one after the other, pressing the hissing cat away from Randy. Magically propelled water met each blast, sizzling and quenching. With a graceful twist, the cat lunged at Quinn.
“Run!” I willed the drummer to move.
Randy moaned, pushed up from the ground, and crawled back toward the walk. Quinn fumbled in her jacket with one hand and jetted water at her attacker with the other. Although the creature easily diverted the stream, it couldn’t close the distance. Too much water made fire useless. But if we could pin this thing down, I could incinerate it.
White fluff appeared in Quinn’s free hand. In one smooth motion she dropped the water and flung her needle-tipped feathers at the cat. It yowled and clawed at the swirling cloud riding her Spirit spell. Quinn drove it swiping and spitting back to the railing. The feathers grew thin as they were swatted from the air or embedded in the creature’s fur.
I abandoned my Fire spell, pulling up Earth with a slow steady rhythm. The heavy metal railing was too thick for me to work quickly, but the decorative mesh of stylized fish and kelp was thin and malleable. My magic gave it a purpose and coursed through the material bringing it to life. I curled my hand, ripping the metal free to tighten around the cat’s legs, then its left arm. It yowled and clawed out with the free arm. Quinn pressed her attack, but got too close. The sweeping claw raked across her middle, and she dropped to one knee.
Quinn’s attack faltered. I pushed more energy into my spell, but my head throbbed. The fencing stretched as far as it could go, leaving the creature too much room. It clawed at its restraints, then made a grab for Quinn—still too close. I dropped my half-formed spell, lunged forward, and grappled with the cat.
The thing was incredibly strong. I pinned its free arm, but pain sliced my right thigh when its claws extended. It damned near lifted me off the ground, and I lost my grip. The furry arm cinched tight across my windpipe; fetid breath filled my nostrils. I kicked and growled, but my feet lost traction as I was lifted by the neck.
“Randy!” Quinn gripped her stomach and struggled to rise.
My head was going to explode. Ridiculously, all I could think of was how much the thing choking me smelled like my wet dog after a swim. Lights flashed as my vision narrowed and dimmed. Randy’s wild mop of hair charged at me from the end of a dark tunnel, propelled by his gurgling yell. The drummer plowed straight into me, arms raised. His rush ended with a wet slap by my left ear.
The pressure on my throat eased, and a quiver ran though the creature as it went limp. I gulped air, looked behind me, and gagged. Drumsticks jutted from the cat’s eyes. Randy still clutched them in filthy hands. Grime smeared my friend’s face and stained his lips and chin black.
Randy’s hands slipped from his sticks. He gave a weak smile, sputtered out dark mucus, and stumbled away from the gruesome corpse suspended in the fence. He folded to the ground, but I hurried to Quinn, worried she would bleed to death.
“I’ll be fine. Help him!”
Randy stared up into the moonlight, eyes reflecting the smile on his face. “I—”
He choked up bubbles of mud instead of words. I rolled him on his side and thumped like the burly nurse had. More gunk flowed from his mouth, but he refused to cough.
“Here.” Quinn crawled over and flushed water across his face trying to wash the mud away, but she had to stop or risk drowning him. “Where’s Pina? She’ll know what to do.”
Randy flopped onto his back again, eyes flicking from side to side, scared and confused. More mud boiled out from between his lips. Air just couldn’t get to his lungs. Randy’s hands quivered in front of him, one facing up one down.
“He wants his sticks,” Quinn said with a sob, then shouted into the night. “Pina!”
My throat grew tight. I looked back at the creature who had done this. Its head drooped so that the drumsticks hovered over its furry chest, blood and gore dripping down the length of the polished wood.
“Get that branch.” I pointed to an old limb that had fallen next to the path.
Tears streaked Quinn’s face, but she hurried over to get it. The branch was brittle and dry like old bones. I snapped off two lengths and pushed one into each of the drummer’s hands.
The strain around Randy’s eyes eased. He gripped the sticks with firm familiarity and drummed the air. The edge of his lips turned up a fraction beneath the oozing slime, and a dark tear slipped down his cheek.
“Pina, we need you!” Quinn screamed through tears of frustration.
More tears fell, dark thick mud boiling from his eyes and ears. The sticks flew faster, faltered, then sank to his chest and fell still. The mud flowing from him slowed and stopped. I took a deep breath, then smoothed down Randy’s eyelids—a profoundly intimate gesture—and stood, leaving the sticks where they had fallen across his chest.
“He’s gone.”
“No!” Quinn spat and kicked his leg. “Get up, damn you!”
I grabbed her shoulders, pulling her into a hug and away from our friend. She fought me, then grabbed on hard. My own face was wet against her shoulder. Damp hair clung to my cheek.
Ten minutes ago, everything had been fine. He laughed as I plowed into him, drumming his heart out on the railing, and now…no more. Quinn’s weight in my arms was a steady rock. I wanted to bury my head in her shoulder, but there wasn’t time.
“I have to find Anna. If things are this bad…” I gently pried myself away unable to finish.
Quinn nodded and wiped a hand under her nose. “I’ll take care of Randy. Go!”
18. Decisions
I SHOULD have caught a glimpse of Anna and Dan if they ran south toward town, so turned away from the corpses and sprinted up the trail, hoping my reasoning was sound. North into the ruins wasn’t a pleasing thought, but it was my best chance.
The adrenaline drained away, and my hands cramped with cold backlash from the Fire I’d thrown. The ambush couldn’t have taken more than five minutes, but gave my quarry all kinds of opportunity to turn off the walkway.
I slowed, followed the concrete path across Lakeside Drive, and entered the bad section. My leg burned, forcing me to waste another minute on a spot
healing to close the gashes on my outer thigh. The cat’s claws had skewered up under the skin, but not too deeply. I didn’t sense any poison, which was a refreshing change for one of my encounters.
Using the magic felt good; exhausting, but good. I had been locked away from the power and euphoria for too long. If I was to have any chance of finding Anna, I needed to cast a seeking. My sister’s moratorium on magic aside, I still carried around basic spell components, and it only took a moment to dig out a feather, breathe Spirit into it, and let fly. It slewed left. I followed close, not wanting to count on the tenuous tether that tugged me along. Pale streetlights provided just enough light to keep me from tripping as I tailed the white bit of fluff.
Empty eye-socket windows looked down from either side of the street. Many doorways gaped wide, their panels long ago rotted away. Others were made of tougher material and shut tight. I hadn’t planned for the buildings. The spell didn’t drag me through any, but I lost precious seconds every time the feather stalled and slid along a wall before again making a beeline for its quarry.
My face grew clammy the deeper I went. Over my shoulder, I occasionally caught the lake’s silhouette outlined by yellow lights along the waterfront. Getting back wouldn’t be too difficult—I hoped.
I shivered and pulled my jacket tight against the damp trapped in the shadow of an ancient high-rise connected to a shopping complex. At least that’s what I assumed it was. Much of the glass remained intact, protecting bits of clothing and knick-knacks that stubbornly clung to the empty displays.
The feather drifted across a wide intersection where moonlight glinted off long rows of rectangles as the pavement gave way to old cobblestones. I soon found myself creeping down an alley between buildings. The tan brickwork to either side reminded me of old theaters long past their heyday.
Light pooled at the alley’s entrance, refusing to enter the narrow passage, and the majestic old buildings blocked the moon. The feather slowed. I tasted mildew, mold, and something else on the air. Metal scraped ahead, and I suddenly wished I had thought to grab a weapon, maybe a club or bat, or…Randy’s drumsticks sprang to mind, vivid and gory.
The confrontation with the cat left me weary. My throat still ached from its strangle hold and a clutching pang of loss. More scratching of metal on metal had me creeping forward. The outline of two people formed against a set of metal doors.
“Hold it right there.”
I spun at the deep voice behind me. Intent on the noise ahead, I’d overlooked a dark alcove. The bald Grim stepped out of the gloom. Metal glinted in his right hand.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble.” I backed toward the end of the alley, hands in front of me.
“Well then you shouldn’t be here, friend.” Baldy wiped at his sneer, and I saw the metal was a short length of pipe. “Danny, you brought company.”
“Aw, shit.” Dan’s comment echoed my own thoughts.
I sidestepped to the wall to keep from get hemmed in. Anna stood behind Dan at the doors. The Grim had hold of a keyring and a large black key fitted in the lock. I tried to make eye contact with the girl, but she was intent on Dan. In fact, her arm wrapped around his waist as she bent to help with the door.
“Anna,” I called. “Let’s go back to your friends.”
The little blonde turned with a feral sneer. “Leave me alone!”
Her eyes went round at her own words, but she clung tight to Dan’s back. I clutched at Earth, let it slip away, and grabbed for Fire. Nothing in my limited arsenal seemed particularly helpful. Emotions flitted across Anna’s face as though she fought the drugs and magic altering her perception.
I needed to keep the Grims talking long enough for her head to clear, then we could run for it. I floated a strand of healing toward her. Fire worked well as a general curative and should help even though I was too far away to sense what was truly wrong.
Baldy moved over beside Dan, grabbed the key, and tried to force the lock. I’d met him at that first concert in Idaho, back when he and a woman casually strolled off with Anna in tow. His name was notable only because of its simplicity. Something short, like Tom, or Tim, or…
“Jim!” My call brought his head up. “It is Jim, right? Listen, I know you guys are big fans. You’ve been following the tour.”
“Yeah, so?” The sneer turned into a smirk as he glanced at the girl.
The look helped things fall into place. I’d always wondered why the Grims didn’t seem as into the music as our other fans. Why bother to follow the tour and just go through the motions? The way he leered at Anna…the Grims were after the Brights!
Anna’s friend Patty disappeared early on, only to show up later as a Grim convert. The same thing or worse was likely happening to others. I didn’t know what the Grims were playing at, but anyone going after Kokopelli’s children must be aligned with the dark forces my father kept yammering about. We needed to regroup and figure out what was going on.
“Well…” even bad guys liked free stuff. “How about front row seats at the final stop? Band’s gonna play two new numbers at Indianapolis next week. How’s that sound?”
“You want to give us teenybopper seats?” Jim sounded incredulous, maybe because of the absurdity of my offer.
“Sure. Let me head back with Anna and get the manager to arrange a block of what…six seats?”
Anna shook her head and eased her hold on Dan. A hollow click rose from the lock.
“Got it!” Dan crowed, and turned the handle.
“You’re crazy, kid.” Jim waved the pipe, lazy and mocking, but then he caught sight of Anna backing away. His grip on the length of metal shifted, and he pointed it at me in warning. “Dan, get the girl.”
I took a page from the water-baby playbook. The chorus of “Invincible,” arguably Skillet’s hottest song, throbbed with the power of Earth. I drove magic into the cobblestones to soften the footing.
The spell started slower than I hoped, but Dan stumbled as he grabbed for Anna. She hurried to my side then had a change of heart and pulled away. I grabbed her arm. Stone crept over Dan’s shoe. He cursed and tried to yank free. Jim lunged, staggered, and then gaped. His mouth fell open as he stared from the shifting stone to the Earth token clenched in my fist.
“You.” He shook his head. “Impossible!”
“My foot,” Dan wailed, earning him a whack on the head by his partner.
“Leave the shoe, moron. We have to go.”
I dragged Anna back down the alley. A glance over my shoulder confirmed Dan unlaced his shoe and got to his feet. The pair fled through the door. I grinned. That would teach the a-holes to mess with Kokopelli’s firstborn! Anna fell into a trot beside me, and we turned onto the main thoroughfare. I jerked up short like a dog on a leash. Pain lanced through my chest, and I hit the pavement hard.
“Ed!”
“It’s okay.” I opened my jacket, thinking to find I’d been shot.
The pressure in my chest spread, twisting my gut. I grasped the Earth element stretching out from me and slapped my palm down, sending it into the stones. The sudden absence of pain was nearly as shocking as being stopped short by the ungrounded magic. I struggled to my feet feeling like an idiot. I knew Earth magic had to be safely grounded. Anna gaped, which was better than railing against being rescued.
“Really, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
***
By the time we stumbled back to the arts center, it was crawling with police—or constables as the local authorities preferred to be addressed. I skirted the commotion to deposit Anna with my sister before going to find Quinn. The Bright grew agitated as we approached the end room. I shoved her through the doorway rather than risk being spotted waiting for her to decide it was okay to enter. Piper took over from there, and I fell exhausted onto the couch, a luxury absent in my tiny room.
I closed my eyes for a moment. It still felt as though the spell’s backlash had left a ragged hole. But the pain faded to an itch where the edges of the imaginary woun
d pulled together. Perhaps the term psychic was more apt—the pain certainly hadn’t been my imagination. I wouldn’t make the mistake again. The magic left me drained enough without that nonsense.
I rubbed at the tender spot on my chest, trickled a bit of healing to my abused knees, and considered how best to explain poor Randy. The authorities weren’t going to like the idea of an attack on their turf. My recollection after Quinn got hurt was a blur, but without Randy… I closed my eyes at a tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with ill-cast magic.
Something warm patted my face. I ignored it for a time, but finally gave in and pried my eyes open. I blinked at the fuzzy outline of a face with blond hair and emerald-green eyes. Pina came into focus as sleep retreated. I couldn’t have drifted off for more than a few minutes because my body screamed for me to roll over and wait for morning.
“When did you get here?” I mumbled through cotton and tuna. The latter was evident by the way Pina recoiled.
“Not long ago.” She glanced over her shoulder.
Piper sat on the edge of the bed talking to Anna. Well, more like urgently whispering with calming hand gestures. The girl looked to have gotten a shower and wore my sister’s pajamas again. By her body language, she might bolt at any moment.
“Geez, how long was I out?”
“Piper says an hour.” Pina’s grin faded, her eyes turning troubled. “I’ve done what I can for your friend, but she’s fighting me this time.”
I laid my hand over hers and sat up. Pina threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder.
“I couldn’t help him!” she wailed.
Hot tears bled through my shirt. Pina loved everyone so much. I ached to ease her pain, but could only hold her.
“I know. Randy helped—” My own throat closed over an aching lump. “It isn’t fair.”
We had a good cry while Piper worked to settle Anna, but I had to extract myself and go help Quinn with the cops. The cool night air felt good. I scrubbed at my eyes, hoping they didn’t look as red as they felt.
