Disha

by Ingrid Seymour

  Annoyed, I attempted a clumsy revealing charm that I’d learned from Henderson. In terrible Gaelic, I repeated the words he’d made me memorize.

  “Foillsich, nochdaidh fosgailte an doras, seall dhuinn na tha sinn an seo.” I spread my fingers wide as if smoothing the words onto the walls.

  The image around us flickered, then disintegrated like paper left out in a storm.

  Instead of a dank dungeon, we were in a tent. Above us, green canvas rippled in a howling wind. A tent flap curved inward against the storm, letting in a drift of fine sand that coated the tarp-like floor.

  Sand? Where the hell were we with this much sand? The Mohave?

  Just as I was pondering how far I’d been taken from home, two figures burst in. One was the oily warlock and the other was a wizened old hag with long, gray hair and completely black eyes, no irises or sclera.

  The evil pair raised their hands to shoot spells at us.

  “Disha, get out of here.”

  Drew dove in front of me, knocking me out of the way as he rushed at them. The oily warlock threw a spell but Drew juked left and, at the same time, kicked at the pole that supported tent. The canvas collapsed, trapping us all beneath swaths of fabric.

  I pushed up against the tent walls that now covered me, fighting off claustrophobia and fear. The canvas was strong and heavy, pinning me down, or at least it seemed that way. The need to find the exit and flee was strong, but I would have to abandon Drew who had just attempted to save me. And, it seemed he didn’t even have magic to defend himself. So, instead of crawling to the door, I scrambled on my hands and knees toward where I’d last seen him.

  And came face to face with the hag.

  “Where are you going, pretty?” Her warty mouth curled into a cruel smile.

  I gave my answer in a repelling charm. Electric bolts zapped out of my fingertips and propelled her backward. Her wrinkled mouth curve into a surprised O.

  Take that you ugly witch.

  My joy was turned to anger when she stopped her backward skid with a wave of her hand, the other clutching a charm that appeared to be tree bark on a bit of twine.

  She was an item witch. If I could get a hold of it…

  Her hand thrust out, sending a pulse of energy that hit me in the chest.

  Paralysis stiffened my body. Unable to move, I lay on the sandy floor as the tent fabric closed over me. Would I suffocate beneath its weight? Panic darted around my brain as my ears picked up more sounds of fighting. Could Drew be winning?

  I hung onto the only hope I had. Come on, Drew.

  Boney fingers wrapped around my ankles. I wanted to crawl out of my skin at the feel of her hands, but all I could do was cringe inwardly as the hag began to drag my body out.

  I wanted to kick her in her ragged face, but instead, I ran defensive spells in my head as my body scraped along the tent floor. The sand beneath the bottom was soft, thank goodness, but the cloying feeling of her hands on my ankles made me want to gag. What was she going to do with me?

  She found the tent exit and pulled me through. Sunlight pierced my eyes and grit pelted my face but I couldn’t even blink as the wind sandblasted me. My eyes cast upwards. I took in a huge blue sky and that was all.

  The hag groaned, stopped dragging me, and threw her hand out once more. The wind stopped as did the sand. She’d created a blocking spell so at least I had that to be grateful for. What I wasn’t grateful for was what the sand beneath me was doing to my hair. Soon, I’d look like her, a Halloween prop left in the attic a few decades too long.

  Her hair was a gray rats’ nest and her clothes were so holy they could’ve been decades old, just like her face. She might be one of those witches who extended her life by preying on living creatures and sucking their essence. I’d heard of black magic like that, but only through gossip and rumor.

  Did she plan to do that to me? I didn’t want to look like a dried up raisin. Damnit, where was Drew?

  As if in answer, the oily warlock appeared from beneath the destroyed tent, dragging a paralyzed Drew.

  So, we both sucked. Perfect.

  “Get them over here,” the hag commanded.

  Soon, Drew’s paralyzed body lay next to mine. I couldn’t look at him, but I could guess what was going on inside his head. None of this was good. We’d broken out of their prison and they’d likely be pissed. The fear I’d been keeping at bay started to creep in around the edges of my vision. It was a good thing I couldn’t cry or I might be sobbing like a baby and begging these bastards to please not hurt us. At least paralyzed, I couldn’t give them the satisfaction.

  “Get him up,” the hag demanded. She stood over me, gesturing back and forth. Her magical item dangled right above my line of sight, swinging on that bit of twine. Such a little thing that held so much power.

  “Tie their hands,” she said. There was more shuffling and then hands yanked my body over, temporarily pressing my face into the sand. Panic exploded in my brain. I couldn’t breathe without sucking sand into my lungs!

  Rope lashed my wrists together while I held my breath. Finally, I was flipped back over again. Air expanded my chest giving me a huge sense of relief that was short lived. Above us hovered the scarecrow.

  He was even more horrible in the daylight. I could see every skeletal bone that made up his long spine and neck, every sinewy tendon. The face I’d mistaken for a bare skull actually had ancient skin stretched across it like an old hide stretched across a frame. He reeked of death and decay, of nightmares and demons.

  He rose up over me, stretching tall like a rattlesnake before dipping down to stare into my eyes with his lifeless, black holes.

  Inside, I was crying. Screaming. He stretched one boney finger out and ran it down my cheek.

  The hag, watching this all, shook her head and snapped her fingers.

  Suddenly, I could move.

  I was unable to stand because of my bound arms, but I made do, rolling away and kicking sand as I scrambled as far from the scarecrow as possible. Bumping into Drew, we exchanged a look before he spoke up.

  "By order of my father, Dr. Mishra of the high council, you are to let Miss Khatri go at once. She has no part in this and will go free. If you do so, we will be merciful on you." Drew’s voice was commanding. I’d be turned on if I wasn’t so terrified.

  But the thugs weren’t as impressed. The hag smiled and the scarecrow cackled. His voice sounded like rusty gears clanking together.

  “You make demands?” the scarecrow boomed. “Of us?”

  He threw out a skeletal hand and Drew jolted, jittering with pain as a spell hit him. His teeth snapped together, the veins in his neck pulsed and his eyes rolled up in his head as the pain racked through him.

  “Stop it!” I screamed.

  The scarecrow swiveled his long neck towards me. Veined eyelids narrowed as he considered me. “And you. Who do you think you are to shout at me?”

  Paper thin skin stretched across his yellow teeth as he grinned like a corpse.

  His hand flew out and this time it was my turn to shudder with pain.

  Raw, snapping, electrical pulses fried my body like a squirrel on a live wire.

  When it was over, I lay in the sand, unable to do much more than let tears stream down my face and slide down my neck. My muscles twitched and my stomach threatened to lose its contents. God, was I going to die here?

  “You’ll regret that,” Drew said in a hoarse voice.

  The scarecrow chuckled. “Hardly. I enjoy it.”

  “Disha, it’s okay,” Drew said to me. “I’ll get us out of here.”

  The scarecrow’s laugh deepened. He hovered over us moving back and forth in that snakelike fashion again. “Knight in shining armor, aren’t you? Does she know what you really are?”

  I glanced over. Drew’s face tightened, but this time the pain wasn’t physical. What did the scarecrow know?

  “Don’t,” Drew said.

  “She doesn’t know, does she?” the scarecrow replied, w
eaving back and forth more quickly as if this information pleased him very much. “Don’t you think it’s time you told her the truth?”

  “Don’t,” Drew said again, but this time it sounded like a warning. His teeth flashed and his eyes narrowed to slits.

  The scarecrow paid no heed. Instead, he lifted boney fingers to the sky and began chanting in what sounded like Bengali.

  “No!” Drew said, scrambling with his legs in the sand as he attempted to stand. The oily warlock came up behind him and put his hands on Drew’s shoulders to keep him pinned.

  The scarecrow kept on. His words sped up until they were an unending flow of vowels and consonants, a stream of sound that washed over Drew like a foul sludge. His body flattened, laying out on the sand. Muscles twitched as his eyes shut against the onslaught of words and magic.

  The oily warlock stepped away as if afraid.

  “What are you doing to him?” I cried, darting my eyes from Drew to the scarecrow to the other two who had continued to back away from the scene, putting a good distance between us and them.

  The spell kept on. The scarecrow began to shout, spittle flying between his teeth as his arms rose into the air. Drew’s body convulsed, thrashing as if he were having a seizure. He flopped in the sand, kicking up small clouds of dust.

  What could I do? Without my hands, I couldn’t cast spells. If Charlie were here, or a more adept witch, something could be done. As it was, I sat helpless as the sand began to rise around us, swirling like a slow-moving tornado.

  The scarecrow lifted his hands higher and Drew’s body rose into the air.

  There was a terrible rumble. The ground began to shake. Suddenly, the sand blasted out, pelting my eyes. I squeezed them shut against the grains that threatened to blind me.

  When it was over, I opened my eyes and gasped.

  Where Drew had been stood a monster. It was the only word my brain could conjure up. Eight feet tall with scales, hooves and long horns. Bulging muscles. Big red eyes. It was as if the Incredible Hulk and Hellboy had a baby. And it was pissed.

  Breath pulsed out of its nostrils like a bull as it stared at the scarecrow who watched it with a cautious curiosity.

  “See what he is,” the scarecrow said to me. “Hideous.”

  This was Drew? Dear God. He looked like a demon.

  Yet, it was Drew’s voice that rumbled in his massive, scaly chest like a bass drum. “She sees. And now, you will too.”

  Then he attacked.

  Chapter Five

  Drew hit the scarecrow like a wrecking ball.

  For a creature over eight feet in height and hundreds of pounds in weight, he moved with amazing speed. One moment, the scarecrow was hovering over the sand with a smug look on his face and the next, Drew was on him, grabbing boney arms and pulling as if to rip our captor apart.

  The scarecrow made a screeching sound and struggled, attempting to free himself from Drew’s massive hands. It coiled and slithered like a terrified snake, but it was no match for Drew. Thick meaty fingers pulled and pulled on the scarecrow’s arms until I was sure they’d be ripped clean away. The scarecrow was like a baby snake in a naughty child’s hands, about to be squashed and ripped to pieces.

  Why would the scarecrow force Drew to shift? Obviously, he had no idea what Drew was capable of in his current state. Drew didn’t have magic, but he had mighty. Holy shit, did he ever?

  Suddenly, the sand bucked like a wild animal under Drew’s feet, throwing him forward and spilling him onto the ground. The scarecrow broke free, rolling back as the hag advanced. She had her treebark necklace in one hand and was using the other to push rolling mounds of sand in Drew’s direction.

  Whenever Drew tried to stand, the ground would buck, throwing him off his feet again. Seeing this, both the oily warlock and the scarecrow warily advanced. They sensed that if they could keep Drew off his feet, they could pin him.

  The hag stepped in the sand beside me, eyes on Drew. She wasn’t close enough to kick, staying just out of my reach as she blasted Drew again.

  I could not let them take Drew down. I knew that would mean both our lives would be forfeit. The scarecrow didn’t seem to care much about money or esteem. He liked to watch lesser creatures squirm, and, if he got his way, he’d pick us apart bit by bit.

  I needed to act now.

  Quickly, I began to work my wrists against the rope that pinned them. My fingers twisted and folded together trying to slip under the scratchy twine, but it was tied too tight. But as my fingers moved, I realized that I could create spells, albeit clumsily and inaccurately, behind my back.

  Would the spells cast this way work?

  Only one way to find out.

  I formed a propel incantation in my head and then worked my fingers as best I could behind my back. Then I cast.

  Instead of blasting the hag as I’d planned, my own body hurled forward. The ground and sky blurred together as I soared through the air and plowed into someone. Legs and arms collided, then I tumbled a few more times and skidded into the sand.

  Stunned and aching, I glanced up in time to see Drew run over and throw a punch that hit the oily warlock square in the chest. He flew so far back, I couldn’t see him any longer.

  Damn. Drew was a badass.

  Beneath me, someone stirred. The hag. I’d knocked her down and fallen on top of her, stopping her spell and giving Drew a few seconds advantage. But now she was getting up, groaning and cursing my name. She gripped her necklace and began to form a spell aimed right at me.

  I wove my bound hands like the wind and cast behind my back again. The spell hit us both, spiraling my body as well as hers, sending us spinning into the sand. I rolled for a bit, accumulating more grit, which I spit out my mouth and blinked out of my eyes. Had my spell done any good? The hag was on her side, groaning. Not too shabby.

  Ahead of me, Drew was up. As I watched, he pounded over to the scarecrow, grabbed his skull-like head and snapped his neck.

  Oh, God.

  The crack was horrible. The scarecrow’s body went limp, falling into the sand with a terrible thud. Dust curled up around his skeletal body as it lay there motionless.

  Heart pounding, I looked away. Had he...? Had he just killed that thing so easily?

  Beside me, the hag gasped. She gripped her treebark necklace and disappeared in a pop of air. When I glanced back, the oily warlock was gone as well.

  We’d survived. I stared around the desert in shock. Then I looked at Drew.

  He was still in his monster form. His brownish gray hide was covered with a thin scrim of sand. It clung to his protruding chin and even dotted his bald head. I watched his shoulders heave as he stared down at the dead scarecrow. Then, slowly, he turned to me.

  “I’ve said sorry to you more times than anything else we’ve spoken since we’ve met. But I feel like I owe you another apology.” His dark eyes flicked from my face to the ground as if ashamed. “I didn’t want you to see that. To see this.” He gestured to his massive body, his voice broader, more resonant than before. And laced through with pure shame.

  I wrapped my arms around my own body, shivering despite the heat. All of this was so... overwhelming. So horrible. First, the kidnapping, then the attack and now Drew, in the form of a brown Incredible Hulk, was trying to apologize as sand swirled in my eyes and the stink of the scarecrow’s dead body began to waft in my direction.

  My head swam and my heart pounded in my ears.

  “I just…. need…. a minute.”

  Then I fainted.

  When I awoke, someone was carrying me.

  My body jostled back and forth gently with each thudding step. I felt solid arms underneath me, carrying me without effort. It was as if I was a child again, three years old in my mother’s arms.

  Then I opened my eyes.

  Drew’s transformed face was locked in thought, his black eyes focused on a distant spot as he trudged through the sand. Up close, I could see faint outlines of his original features, the same Aq
uiline nose, same broad brow, but the rest of his features were lost in the giant skeletal structure of his face. His skin was outlined like large rough scales, more like a reptile’s hard epidermis than human skin. His eyes were dark and brooding. They cast over the nighttime horizon, staring ahead at the endless ocean of sand.

  Sensing me awake, his obsidian eyes shifted to my face. When he saw me staring, he gave an inward shiver and looked away again, his mouth tightening in a hard line.

  “I’m not sure how far I need to walk, but don’t worry, I can go for a long time like… this.” He glanced down at his massive body.

  “Oh,” I said, words failing me for once. After a long pause, I said. “What is exactly... this?”

  “My… body?”

  I nodded.

  His sequoia-sized chest expanding beneath me, he took a deep breath. “I’m a Goliath and a shifter. Both together. It’s very rare.”

  “Shifter I understand. But Goliath I don’t,” I replied.

  “Goliaths look like, well, they look like me. Huge. Scaley. They’re strong. Practically indestructible.” It sounded as if he wanted to say more but stopped himself, swallowing hard.

  I considered this for a moment. “Is this your true form or what I saw at the party?”

  He paused, his eyes shifting. “This. Unfortunately.”

  “Ah.”

  He went quiet and I didn’t know what to say. He’d basically lied to me, covered up what he really was and presented this glammed-up version of himself as his true form. Had he shifted to appear he had Indian heritage to be more appealing?

  Was anything he’d told me real? He might not even be the son of the High Council’s leader. How could I trust what he’d told me up until this point?

  “Is your dad even on the high council?” I finally asked, anger making my words sharp.

  “He is,” Drew said without looking at me. “That part is true.”

  “So some things are lies?” I asked, whipping my head towards him. “Which things?”