Witch of the Midnight Blade

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Erik grabbed another and quickly tucked it around Mrs. K. He stuck his hand in his pocket. “I want you to have this,” he said. He fished out a small amulet and placed it on her palm. Then he nodded once and pulled up the loading bay door.

  Two entwined creatures in gold and silver rested on Mrs. K’s palm.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  She closed her hand around the little piece of jewelry. “Nothing important, dear. We must focus on our task.”

  Nax stared at Erik as if he’d seen a ghost more terrifying than any Mrs. K could conjure.

  More of their obfuscations. I would have demanded a solid answer, but a blast of cold air hit us square in the face.

  Nax pushed Mrs. K out onto the dock. I followed, but stopped long enough to squeeze Erik’s hand. “Keep them safe, okay?”

  “We will.” He stepped back into the kitchen and closed the door.

  We were on the three-foot-wide strip of dock that stuck out from the building, with a four-foot drop in front of us and a set of concrete steps to the side.

  “Are you hiding us?” I asked Nax.

  “Yes,” he said.

  At least we could be invisible. Why had I agreed to this? I was an idiot. And I’d allowed Mrs. K to come, too.

  “Does your ghost have any ideas for how to disrupt the hellhound portal?” Nax asked Mrs. K.

  “Take us around the building,” she said to Nax. “With luck, we will get to the distortion before Ismene finds us.”

  Would we be so lucky? Another doubt wormed into my head. But we had to try.

  And I had to keep telling myself to try, otherwise I’d scream.

  “Maria will show us the way,” Mrs. K said. “It’s time to take on the monsters.”

  Chapter Ten

  The hellhounds ripped and tore at the roof of the concourse. Metal screamed. Asphalt roofing rained over the side and onto the drive like chunks of volcanic rock.

  But no hellhounds came toward the docks. At least not yet.

  The sun had dropped behind the mountains, and the last remaining golden glow of the evening spread like honey through the shadows behind Paradise Homes.

  Yet the golden glow was ice cold. We needed to finish our task and get Mrs. Karanova out of the winter chill.

  Mrs. K, because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t survive what was coming.

  Nax lifted Mrs. K out of her chair. “Stay close to me,” he said, and jogged down the steps to the concrete pad below us. He stopped next to the side of the building, away from the slope of the dock’s drive-in slot, and set Mrs. K on her feet. “Hold her,” he said to me, then jogged back for her chair.

  “What’s your ghost saying?” I asked.

  Mrs. K shook her head. “We need to be mindful of the midnight blades.”

  “There’s more than one?” I asked. Maybe we could get a different one and use that instead.

  “Of course there are, dear,” she said. “You saw a shard, didn’t you? A piece of another sword triggered the distortion, did it not?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Mrs. Carmichael had it. Though she said her name wasn’t Carmichael.”

  Mrs. K watched Nax bring around her chair. “No one here is listed under their true name,” she said.

  “Not even you?”

  She grinned up at me. “No one except Maria Romanova and myself, Del Parrish.”

  She was doing pretty well, right now. She remembered my name, and seemed to be speaking coherently with her ghost.

  Perhaps adrenaline truly was a wonder drug. It sure had me revved up.

  Nax locked her chair and reset the cushions over the slab of shielding. Then he helped her sit once again. “I can glamour an offset version of us,” he said. “We stay twenty feet away to her left, and I can make her think we’re ten feet away and to her right.”

  Mrs. K looked up at him again. “Do not assume your glamours are working.”

  Nax did not answer and instead quickly pushed Mrs. K onto the wide driveway that accessed the loading docks. The pavement back here was wide enough to back a truck into the docks. The employee parking lot was farther back from the buildings, and off to the side of Building Two. We’d be running right by my car on the way to our one little attempt at saving the world.

  Shimmers moved between the trees. Branches crackled and trees fell as the hellhounds ripped them up.

  Nax watched the trees but continued to push Mrs. K. “A good five hundred or so have probably already come through.”

  Five hundred hellhounds that would soon realize they’d landed in an urban-adjacent area. And what of Ismene? If we didn’t stop her, would she rampage through Aurora like some smoldering, smartass, zombie eating machine?

  “How many Burners are there?” I asked.

  Nax shrugged. “Depends on the area. The Seraphim and a few other Shifter groups hunt them. So do some of the Fates. Rumor has it that Praesagio Industries has never been kind to Burners.”

  So if we were lucky, Ismene wouldn’t bring through others of her kind, or find many already here.

  We came up to the corner on the back side of Building Two, where the emergency stairwell emptied into the east ground floor elevator bank. A double fire door under a now-dead exit sign opened into the elevator area. The lock lights were out, too.

  The generators must have shut down.

  “We can get back into the building there.” I pointed. “When the power cuts, all the exterior emergency doors open unless manually locked from inside.” Which meant all the doors were likely open.

  “Noted,” Nax said.

  He didn’t seem to care. “I want you to promise me that you’ll focus on hiding Mrs. K,” I said.

  “I figured I should concentrate on hiding both of you,” he responded.

  Mrs. K patted his hand. “You’ve been here for what, three years?”

  “Four and change,” he said.

  “You could have gone anywhere, but you came to Paradise Homes.” She looked up at him. “Every Fate here probably knows who you are, dear.”

  He snorted. “How many of them cared enough to spy on my past? The safest place to hide is under the noses of those from whom you wish to remain hidden.”

  “Are you someone famous?” I asked. “You some dead rock star? You’re not Ernest Hemmingway, are you?” Hemmingway would explain the attitude.

  Nax stopped pushing Mrs. K. He grabbed my arm and hauled me close to his body. “Hush,” he said.

  Two nearly-invisible hellhounds rounded the corner of Building Two and stopped about fifteen feet away. Their hides mimicked the snow and asphalt, but not quite the evening’s light. A faint halo formed around both, like pixies dancing on the edge of shadow.

  They sniffed as if they smelled us but couldn’t pinpoint our location.

  Two more ran around the building. Both skidded on the ice like wolves on a frozen lake, and took up sniffing along the ground.

  Another tree toppled in the woods. The trunk snapped, and a major crack echoed off the buildings. A bright flare of red, yellow, and purple light followed.

  The four hellhounds looked up. Waves of color rolled from snouts to tips-of-tails as fast-moving rings of orange, turquoise, and blue, then vanished immediately back into their near-invisible mimicking.

  I didn’t dare speak. I didn’t dare move, or breathe, or jitter. And no matter what, I couldn’t panic.

  This was the first time since the distortion opened that I hadn’t had some sort of barrier between me and the hounds. No glass. No high-tech ballistic shielding. Only Nax’s ability to glamour up his own version of invisibility.

  Slowly, he stepped in front of Mrs. K. His face scrunched up in concentration, and… two hellhounds appeared directly in front of us.

  They, too, flashed the turquoise and blue rings, and sniffed along the ground, but away from us.

  The four real hellhounds wagged their heads as if confused, but didn’t follow.

  Nax lifted his hands as if working a spell, and his two fake hellho
unds wavered like mirages.

  The real ones backed up. One roared. Nax’s two fake hounds bounded into the woods and all four followed.

  “They need different calling scents than people,” he said.

  Calling scents must be what he used to make people—and monsters—see things that were not there.

  “We still need a plan,” he said.

  We did.

  Nax pushed Mrs. K down the drive circling Building Two, and the employee lot came into view. My car was in the middle, under one of the lights, where I always parked it. Up front, next to the entrance, the Paradise Homes mini-bus waited.

  I had the keys in my pocket. “Maybe we can ram the distortion.” I pointed at the bus.

  “You might go through and end up in Hellhound Land,” Nax said.

  He was probably correct. Besides, starting up the mini-bus would destroy any stealth we had from Nax’s glamours.

  Another few paces, and we’d be within visual range of the distortion.

  A new, large hellhound galloped around the corner. This one had longer legs than the other ones, but was still as predatory as the wolf-like hounds.

  It dropped its head low and flashed a rapid series of bright oranges and yellows, then paced side to side as if it couldn’t see us.

  Yet it knew we were here. Nax’s glamours held, but they weren’t perfect.

  He cringed the same way he and Marko had inside when Ismene used her Fate ability. She had to be nearby.

  I gripped Mrs. K’s hand and did my best to get us both behind Nax.

  His face hardened. He fought the cringe—he still squinted, so Ismene’s seer must still be cascading over his mind—and stepped closer to the hellhound. It wagged its big, lizard-like head, sniffed, but still could not find us.

  Where was the Burner demon? She had to be close enough to be able to flood Nax’s mind. Could she see us, even if her hellhounds could not? I glanced behind us.

  She was right there, right behind me, right next to Mrs. K. She’d snuck up unseen—and without her odor giving her away.

  Ismene wrapped her hand around my neck and hauled me away from Nax and Mrs. K. I squeaked and slapped at her arm, but she didn’t let go.

  “How?” Nax bellowed.

  Her stink hit us all full force. Mrs. K gagged, and Nax faltered. I retched, but she had me by the neck. I somehow managed not to vomit.

  “Now, now, Lesser Emperor, I’m the best there is at what I do.” She hauled me toward the hellhound. “You follow and I’ll have my hounds strip your flesh from your bones!”

  Nax and Mrs. K vanished. Whatever he had planned, he didn’t want her to see.

  “Your tricks won’t protect you!” Ismene yelled. “I’m a Fate, you idiot!”

  The hellhound growled.

  “Sit!” She swatted at the monster.

  The hound dropped to sitting, between us and where Nax and Mrs. K had been.

  “Good boy,” she said. “Girl.” She shrugged. “I don’t actually know.” She leaned closer to me. “I don’t think they have boys and girls.”

  “Please let go of me,” I croaked.

  She crinkled her nose and pouted. “I could fry your flesh down to your spine,” she said.

  Her hand heated, but not in a hot way, nor was it completely chemical. As indescribable as the sensation was, hot, burning pain still shot outward from every single nerve under her hand.

  I squeaked. The pain stopped.

  Ismene’s pout turned into a sad, quivering lip. “I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “We’re still besties, aren’t we?”

  She wasn’t just a demon, she was a full-on crazy demon. And she wanted us to be besties? “Did you treat the other version of me this way?” I asked.

  Somewhere on the other side of the distortion, there was—or used to be—a version of me whom Ismene considered trustworthy. A woman who looked like me, who worked at another version of Paradise Homes, who bought into the crazy rolling off Ismene with her stink.

  Another version of me that was fruit loops insane—and understood the magic of the world.

  I couldn’t be that. I couldn’t do that. I had to be better.

  I needed to get away from the demon-goddess before she cooked my flesh and ate me with a nice white wine and a side of arugula.

  “Please let me go,” I said.

  Ismene tsked. “You weren’t this weak the last time I found you.”

  Her hand heated again. Her teeth fluoresced in the low evening light as if burning with the winter cold.

  She was about to bite into my flesh.

  “Ismene!” I screamed. “You need me!”

  I was dancing with a devil that would kill me sooner or later. She’d probably killed the version of me she missed so much. But I couldn’t close the distortion if I lost my wits and became a demon’s dinner.

  She closed her mouth and let go of my neck. “Go!” She pushed me forward.

  We rounded the corner of Building Two.

  The rip in reality looked as if it had expanded, yet it was exactly the same size. I knew it hadn’t grown larger—the edges were at the same locations on the grass and the drive—but something about it felt more spun-up. Louder. Faster. The evil shimmering doorway in front of Paradise Homes revved.

  Then a version of me walked out of the colors and speed.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Goddamn it, Ismene!” the version of me standing directly in front of the portal shouted. “What did I tell you about allowing hellhounds to roam unattended?”

  She looked just like me—same opposite-of-Roseanna tall build, even if she was slimmer. Same dark eyes and ponytail. This Del Parrish wore jeans and a red zipped-up hoodie, though, and looked tougher than I felt.

  Alt-me pointed at me. “Who the hell is that?” she shouted.

  Ismene looked at Alt-me, then at me, then back at Alt-me. “You’re dead!” she shrieked.

  Alt-me threw her arms wide. “Do I look dead? You need to pay attention, sister.”

  “They shot you!” Ismene shrieked. “I came to make sure this version of you lived!”

  I slowly backed away. If I circled toward the distortion, I might be able to at least get a good idea where the shard holding open the portal was, and whether or not I could reach it without getting sucked through.

  Or eaten by a hellhound.

  Another jumped out of the portal. It stopped, sniffed, and ran by Alt-me.

  “See!” Alt-me yelled. “They’re confused.” She turned in a circle. “The last thing we need is a bunch of muddled hellhounds fighting over scraps and leaving rainbow poop on the back step.”

  Back in the woods, another tree toppled.

  Alt-me pointed at the trees. “You’re letting them dig up the yard?”

  Ismene’s gaze followed the line of Alt-me’s finger. She turned on her heels, and for the first time since she grabbed me, her attention flitted to a distraction.

  I bolted for the distortion, praying that no hellhound would come through at the same time.

  Alt-me paid me no heed. She concentrated completely on Ismene.

  But the demon-goddess whipped back around. Fury rose off her in visible waves of heat and sparks. Her eyes and teeth glowed.

  “Lesser Emperor!” Ismene roared.

  Alt-me stepped between Ismene and me. “Give me the sword!” she roared back at the Burner.

  Ismene screeched. Her hand gripped the sword’s handle and she swung it at Alt-me. “I will fillet you first,” she growled. “I will make bacon of your haunches.”

  Alt-me laughed. “This again? We’ve already done the Burner threats, bestie.”

  The acid stench rolling off Ismene made me falter. I stumbled toward the distortion—and directly into Mrs. K’s chair.

  She hadn’t been there a moment ago. Yet here she was, directly between me and my goal.

  Mrs. K touched her finger to her lips to indicate I needed to stay quiet.

  Nax was making Alt-me. He had to be. Ismene sure seemed to think
so.

  He continued to hold the glamour and argue with the Burner about the validity of her perceptions no matter what Ismene shouted.

  Who was the bigger psycho here? Ismene the demon-psycho, or Nax? At least Nax was fighting on the side of the angels.

  Mrs. K pointed downward, then pushed herself up off her seat.

  The chunk of shielding. If I was careful, I could wiggle it out from under her.

  It was surprisingly warm, and its edges weren’t as sharp as I feared. But it did weigh at least twenty-five pounds, and I had to carefully wrestle it out from under Mrs. K’s backside and around her back.

  The chunk was like holding a barbell plate. I shifted my posture, engaged my legs, and did my best not to allow it to throw my center of gravity as I carried it toward the distortion.

  Would it suck me in, chunk of high-tech shielding and all? Would Ismene charge Nax, miss, and toss me into Hellhound Land?

  I didn’t even know if I’d be able to breathe if I got too close. A sliding energy pushed off the distortion. It had delineations and a reality to it—a reality a giant corporation had known about long enough ago to develop a high-tech shielding just for monsters like the one standing next to me. There was just as much physics here as there was magic.

  And physics meant I could figure out how to close it even if I wasn’t a wielder of the magic involved.

  Or so I’d continue to tell myself.

  Alt-me paraded and postured between us and Ismene. “That sword is mine!” she yelled. “Give it back!”

  Ismene wailed and rolled the sword around her wrist. “I am not so easily enthralled,” she said. “I am Burner. I am Fate. I will find you inside your veil of mists! I will dance in your entrails.”

  Her stink flooded the area again. Mrs. K covered her mouth.

  Up close, the distortion looked like an electrified soap bubble—or the hide of a mimicking hellhound. I couldn’t see what was inside—on the other side, I wasn’t sure which—only a warped image of the trees and snow behind it. No hellhound-infested hellscape, just Paradise Homes’ lawn.

  And power. Every hair on my body stood up. My skin crawled. My body felt buffeted by the winds of the universe.