Witch of the Midnight Blade

by Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Nax sat next to Mrs. K. “Irena,” he said. “Please extend my greeting to the Grand Duchess.”

  Mrs. K patted his knee below the burn wound. “She says you need a healer.”

  Nax snorted. “Healers are few and far between.” He closed his eyes. “They are precious, and must be protected.”

  He spoke as if “healers” were another class of magical people.

  Mrs. K waved her hand. “Shifters come in three flavors,” she said. “Morphers, enthrallers like our dear Emperor here, and healers.”

  So healers really were another class of magic types. “Anyone else I need to know about? Vampires? Werewolves?”

  “No bloodsuckers,” Nax said. “Every century or so some idiot morpher gets it into his head that he’s going to shift himself into a wolf. It never ends well.”

  Mrs. K scrunched up her mouth and nodded her agreement. “There are Shifters among the Romanovs.”

  I glanced at the mirror. Nax was slumped in the seat in a way that suggested he carried more weight than just the pain of his injuries.

  “I’m not an enthraller,” he said.

  Mrs. K’s lips thinned. “Then what are you?” she asked.

  Nax rubbed his face. “It’s been centuries since I told anyone the truth.”

  I took a right onto another dark, deserted street. “The world just ended. Perhaps you could wipe that slate clean and start with us,” I said.

  He stared out the front window at the stillness and the dark houses. “I have a son,” he said.

  Mrs. K watched him expectantly. I watched the road.

  “He’s twelve. I haven’t seen him in four years.” He exhaled sharply. “I was trying to protect him. I did a poor job of it.”

  Mrs. K nodded as if she knew more than she let on.

  “The entire time we were fighting the hellhounds, all I could think about was that I should be in Wisconsin with him and his mother making sure they get through this.”

  His entire body twitched, enough that I could see it in the mirror. “She’s a Fate. She’ll get him to safety.” He said it more as if he voiced a wish than as if he believed his own words. “In some ways, it’s best I was a coward. It’s best I ran away. They now have good people protecting them.”

  Mrs. K patted his knee again. “Maria’s family has been watching over him.”

  Nax sniffed. “Someday, I will apologize.” He looked up at the ceiling. “To Maria’s family. To my son. To his mother.”

  He must have done something bad. My back tightened. He’d been helpful with me. He’d taken burns protecting me. But that didn’t mean he was always selfless.

  Or good.

  Nax continued to stare at the road in front of us. “My name is Publius Helvius Pertinax Augustus,” he said. “I was Emperor of Rome after Commodus. I lasted three months.” He rubbed his face again. “Historically, the Praetorian Guard killed me in the courtyard of my villa. That’s not what happened.” He groaned again. “Obviously.”

  My body tightened up even more, as if a hellhound had just jumped in front of the bus. I slammed on the brakes.

  I had a Roman Emperor in the mini-bus. An actual emperor from the Roman Empire. The ancient, long-gone, fallen-millennia-ago, Roman fucking Empire.

  “You’re immortal?” I pretty much screeched the question.

  He closed his eyes again. “Those of us closer in lineage to our Progenitors tend to be longer-lived.”

  “Progenitors?” I yelled. “Is that some special Roman god-term?”

  He didn’t laugh. He didn’t chuckle or frown. He just looked way paler than he should.

  “All lines must start somewhere,” Mrs. K said. “His starts with the Mother of All Shifters, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “How close to her are you?” Mrs. K asked.

  He kept his eyes closed. “I’m her son.”

  “Are you a First?” Mrs. K asked. She understood what all this meant, even if I didn’t.

  Nax shook his head. “First? No. I couldn’t even do that right. None of my descendants carry my gift, the way the descendants of the true Firsts do.” He shrugged. “My brothers gave the world morphers, enthrallers, and healers. I’m just another Shifter with a variant ability.”

  Then linebacker-sized Nax, a man who said he was a Roman emperor and the son of someone who I could only guess was extra-magical in this timey-wimey twisty end-of-the-world, a man who most likely was the immortal he claimed to be, puked all over the bus’s floor.

  Chapter Three

  I slammed the bus into park and unhooked my belt. “Are you okay?”

  Nax arched his back and held out his hand. “Drive,” he said.

  He was trying to be imperial while vomiting by keeping his spine straight and his face impassive.

  “You really can be a dick,” I said as I helped him to the seat across the aisle from Mrs. K. “There’s no shame in asking for help.”

  “All the Emperors are like that,” Mrs. K said. She flicked her fingers as if stating the obvious.

  All the Emperors, I thought. “Great,” I muttered. How many imperial Romans were walking around at the end of the world?

  Stink wafted up from the floor. Thank goodness he only vomited a little, but puke was still puke, and the smell had me gagging. Mrs. K pressed two of her flicked fingers against her nostrils and looked away.

  I opened the bus door and somehow managed to avoid sympathy puking.

  Nax glared at Mrs. K as if the last thing he wanted to talk about was “all the Emperors,” so I let it drop. But something nagged at the back of my mind. Something that might have filtered in from the few news programs we’d been able to pick up, or something that might have popped up from my gut because the whole Fate and Shifter business was massive.

  Massive like world-encompassing massive. Massive because the Fates knew the end of the world was coming and they’d done their best to prepare.

  And who better to run the world than men who were used to being in charge? Because being acclimated to running things was the default skill needed to actually run things, right?

  Obviously, Nax didn’t feel he had the correct skill-set, otherwise he’d be out there in front of the world’s armies as they tried to fight back the invaders.

  I patted his shoulder. “I need to clean this up enough so I can drive.”

  He nodded, but didn’t look up at me.

  Whoever usually took out the bus had had the brilliant idea of stuffing several rolls of paper towels behind the driver’s seat, and for a second, I wondered if the unnamed employee had been a Fate looking out for us.

  I handed a roll to Nax, then used another to mop up the vomit.

  “Are you going to be okay for a few more blocks?” I pointed up the dark street as I tossed the towels out the door. “Four streets up, then a left, a right, and three driveways down.”

  Nax wadded up the towel he’d used and tossed it out the open door. “Drive, Del Parrish,” he muttered, and leaned his head against the wall between the seats and the driver.

  I looked over at Mrs. K. She grinned like a little old Russian grandmother as if to say I’ve dealt with Bolsheviks, darling. You can deal with this.

  Thing is, she’d never personally dealt with Bolsheviks, or Russian spies, or real imperial types other than the Grand Duchess, so her grin felt as if it held just enough condescension to get my hackles up.

  I tossed the last towels out the door.

  Out there, in the dark, hellhounds stalked. Farther out still, in the vast depths of that darkness, invaders destroyed the world. Monsters.

  Dragons. That’s what the radio said. We were being invaded by dragons bombing us from a rip in the sky. And here I was running from “angels” with a puking emperor and my magic sword named Stab.

  “We live in an utterly ridiculous world,” I said.

  Nax snort-laughed, then groaned.

  Mrs. K chuckled, then looked to the side. “Maria wants you to know that she approves of your attitude
.”

  I chuckled, too. Chuckling was probably the only way we’d survive this.

  “Let’s go,” I said, and closed the door.

  At my parents’, I did manage to get both Nax and Mrs. K off the bus so they wouldn’t be sitting with vomit residue. I’d need to do a more thorough cleaning before it froze into the grippy treads, but right now getting Nax into the house and to some help took priority.

  Nax sat on the small, uncomfortable bench next to the door, hidden in the shadows but still clearly more pale than he should be. Steam rose off his head and the wound on his leg, so at least I knew he wasn’t freezing, but I did worry about a fever.

  I touched his forehead the way my mom always checked mine. “Do you normally run hot?” I asked. With his special abilities, he might. He might be like a cat for all I knew, hotter than usual but always seeking heat anyway.

  He shook his head. “No hotter than most men my size.”

  “All right,” I said, more to comfort myself than him, and adjusted the scabbard strap across my chest. It fit, but would take some getting used to.

  I glanced back at Nax. My parents kept a couple of battery-operated ear thermometers in the house. I’d check him once we were settled.

  Mrs. K waited in her chair behind me, at the edge of the porch. I’d opened several of the bus’s windows, but closed the door just in case. The last thing we needed was curious hellhounds tearing up the inside of our transportation because they found the stink of people puke intoxicating.

  “We get in and I’ll check the burns too, okay?” I said.

  Nax nodded.

  I pounded on the door, off to the side of my mom’s special “multicultural” wreath. I had no clue what all the random stuff was that she’d added over the years. The thing was strangely lovely, with its colors and designs. But then again, my mom had an eye for design, even if she was a bit nutty. “Mom!” I yelled.

  No response from inside. No candlelight shimmered behind the windows. No noise filtered through the door.

  I pounded again.

  I had a key to their place, but I didn’t carry it with me unless I expected to need it, and I hadn’t planned on the world ending.

  My parents’ home was a standard, comfortable suburban house—two stories with a garage out front because America was more car-friendly than people-concerned. Standard, bland bushes screened the front porch. The backyard was fenced off even though they didn’t have a dog.

  Nothing about the place outwardly showed my stepfather’s wealth.

  A few of the nation’s indigenous tribes had figured out the gaming industry. My stepdad happened to be a member of one of the wealthier ones.

  My family lived a comfortable life, but they weren’t in one of the snootier parts of Aurora; nor were they now in the house. My family must have been part of the half of humanity that refused to shelter in place.

  I slapped the door. “Damn it!” Slapped it, then tried the handle.

  My parents never left the front door unlocked even when they were home. When I was in school, I’d forgotten my key enough times I could no longer remember individual moments, only a generalized annoyance with having to go around back even though I knew someone was home.

  I gripped the handle anyway.

  The door swung open.

  Shadows filled the inside of the house. Only moonlight filtered in around the drawn curtains and around me as I stood in the front door.

  “Mom?” I yelled. “Dad?”

  No response.

  “Sean? Elijah?”

  “Maria says there’s no one inside,” Mrs. K said.

  The ghost would know. I peered inside anyway. “Hello?” I said. The only response I heard was an unsurprisingly clear silence.

  “I’m going to take Mrs. K in first.” I wheeled her as close to the door as I could, then helped her stand. “I’m not going to use the flashlight on my phone unless I absolutely have to, so be careful.”

  Not until I found a car charger and could plug my phone into the bus.

  “There’s a chair just inside the door.” I pointed.

  Mrs. K nodded and gripped my elbow. Slowly, she stepped across the threshold and into the one space on Earth my gut told me was safe.

  But how could it be? No place was safe. But Dad had connections, and if anyone could help us through this, it was him. If only he were here.

  I helped Mrs. K settle into the seat, then maneuvered her wheelchair into the entry and around the corner into the living room. I’d help her over once I found some candles.

  I stuck my head out the door. “Do you need help?”

  Nax sighed. His shoulders slumped. Then he slowly shook his head no.

  He didn’t move.

  “Are you sure?” I stepped back out onto the porch.

  He stood up too fast and his hand shot out toward the siding. He swayed a bit, and closed his eyes again. “I have suffered other Burner attacks,” he said. “I have suffered bites. But this,” he pointed at his chest, “this hurts like Trajan himself stuffed a sword down my throat.”

  Not good, I thought. Was he having heart issues? Maybe I needed to load them back into the bus and take him to the hospital no matter what he said.

  He shuffled toward me and the door. “Thank you,” he said, and stumbled his way into my parents’ tiny foyer before I could respond.

  I was pretty sure I’d just witnessed a small moment of imperial vulnerability. “The living room is to the left,” I said. “The couch is under the window. Be careful of Mrs. K’s chair.”

  Nax shuffled his way toward the pillows and the shadows.

  I closed the door and pulled Mrs. K’s wheelchair around. “I’ll see if I can find you something to eat.”

  She gripped my arm and transferred over. “Maria says your family left candles and a lighter on the dresser in the master bedroom.”

  I glanced at the stairs, then over my shoulder at the dark lump of Nax on the couch. “Okay,” I said, and wheeled her into the living room. “Watch him for me.”

  She squeezed my hand.

  “Mom keeps most of the first aid supplies upstairs,” I said. “I’ll get the candles.”

  “I won’t vomit on your parents’ furniture,” Nax muttered. “I promise.”

  I felt my way around the corner. I could open the curtains and let in the little bit of moonlight available, but I didn’t want any hellhounds to notice our movements.

  Hellhounds, and those angels I was supposed to be running from.

  Stab hadn’t tried to talk to me when I belted her—or maybe him—onto my back. “What do you think, Stabby, you want to be a her or a him?” Or perhaps something completely new, like Ismene suggested of the hellhounds.

  The sword didn’t answer.

  I made my way toward the stairs. I'm talking to a sword, I thought.

  Shadows hid each step. I gripped the rail and carefully counted my way up to the second floor.

  Sean’s curtains were closed, so I ducked into Elijah’s room. I’d go back to Sean’s once I found the candles.

  A streak of moonlight glinted across the screen of Elijah’s tablet, which sat at the foot of his unkempt bed as if he’d tossed it into the room from the doorway. The not-so-subtle notes of fourteen-year-old musk hit me as I stepped across the threshold. He was a good kid, tidier than most boys his age, but he was still a young teenager with stinky socks and sour, stale snacks.

  I picked up the tablet and pressed the power button.

  Nothing. I dropped it back onto Elijah’s bunched-up blankets and looked around.

  A bag sat on the floor, half stuffed with t-shirts, jeans, and underwear. His favorite hoodie had been tossed onto his desk chair. A glass of something sugary and green sat next to his school books.

  They’d left so quickly, Elijah hadn’t taken any of his electronics—not his laptop, or his tablet, or his handheld gaming device. Nor did he take clothes.

  Down the hall, my parents’ bedroom looked equally unkempt. I grabbed the
lighter under the pillar candle on the dresser and lit a small flame.

  I was still in my aide scrubs. I had a sword on my back and a jacket, but I still wore my Paradise Homes uniform.

  I stripped off the scabbard and the jacket and yanked open the drawers of Mom’s dresser. She wore clothes two sizes larger than mine, but she had a pair of “tight” jeans which would at least not fall off my hips.

  They fit better than I’d thought they would. I stripped off my scrubs top and layered on a t-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and Mom’s dark green hoodie. Then I fished out a few items for Nax and Mrs. K.

  I looked around. Mom and Dad had left a pile of candles on the dresser and clothes on the floor. More open and abandoned bags sat in the corner. No electronics, though.

  What had happened? Where was my family?

  They must have ignored the order to shelter in place and left. They weren’t answering my calls because no one could answer calls right now.

  That had to be what happened. It had to be.

  “Got any insight, Stabby?” I asked my sword as I strapped on the scabbard.

  She didn’t respond. How would the sword know, anyway?

  Not sheltering in place probably meant my family was safer than us, anyway, with the invaders targeting the cities. Believing anything else right now wasn’t an option. I couldn’t allow it to be. I needed my wits.

  Downstairs, Nax groaned—and my sword vibrated. Well, not really vibrated, but shook in an impossible way. Shook as if an impossible person had pinged the blade.

  I yelped and almost dropped the candle. “Maria?” I said to the shadows.

  “Del!” Mrs. K shouted from downstairs.

  I scooped up the candles and ran for the stairs.

  Chapter Four

  Nax managed to hold his vomit until I got him a bowl from the kitchen. I cleaned him up—and the bowl—and pulled what first aid supplies I could from the closet in the upstairs bathroom. I also wheeled Mrs. K close to the couch before I dug around, mostly so she could keep a closer eye on Nax.