by Renée Jaggér
Bailey gawked. The creature before her was as tall as the crystal tower, and appearance-wise, she was a compromise between the awful forms of the eldritch crones and the original Callie, a curvy young blond woman who might have been attractive if not for the obnoxious expression of stuck-up anger on her face. Power swirled under her reconstituted skin as though she were a direct projection of the crystal that had allowed her to take shape.
She thrust out a hand, and a thick horizontal column of blue nuclear fire sprang toward the couple.
Bailey raised her sword and, remembering all that the gods had taught her, summoned a mixture of defensive and offensive magic that took the form of an oscillating white sphere with crimson and emerald light at its edges.
The two forces met in the middle, and the resulting thunderclap was so loud it shook the ground and made cracks in the walls. Bailey instantly summoned a sonic dispersal field to relieve the agonizing pressure on her and Roland’s ears. Behind her, she heard the agents and other witches crying out and hoped they were okay—especially since she might need their help.
Nearly all her attention was focused on resisting Callie’s incredibly powerful blast, and a sizzling white mass between them was all that was visible of the clashing of their extended wills. With the arcane energy she’d stolen, Caldoria was on the verge of becoming a deity.
Psychic ripples across the astral plane filled Bailey’s mind with fear, doubt, despair, and revulsion. She knew they were only psionic attacks, but they would wear her down in time. The crude, stupid, and malicious laughter behind them only spurred an angry determination that the werewitch drew upon to resist the assault.
While pushing back against the continual stream of blue arcane fire, Bailey thought of Roland and recalled what Loki had taught her earlier. She couldn’t use the sword to cut her apart since she couldn’t get close to her, so she used the clash-point between her and Callie’s magic as the central axis of a power-circuit, opening a channel to her opponent.
“What? What are you doing?” Callie screamed.
Bailey drained some of the witch’s power and hurled it off to the side, where it became a flashing white wave of heat and light that engulfed and destroyed an advancing swarm of lesser specters.
“Yeah,” Callie added, “well, I can do that shit too, bitch!”
Bailey’s teeth ground together. “Don’t call me that.”
She correctly guessed that Callie was going to try to steal her power and throw it at Roland. The arcane arm-wrestling between the initial blasts they’d created shifted for a second in Callie’s favor as Bailey gave a few inches of ground, focusing on the conjuration of a basic deflective shield.
It saved Roland’s life. The curtain of white light that descended toward him flipped back on its caster, and Callie howled in pain as the unleashed magic seared her reconstituted form.
Bailey held. She couldn’t win yet, but she had formed a barricade against the giant witch’s advance, and her allies, the agents and other casters, were running up to join her.
Roland gestured at the colossal lead specter. “Shoot her,” he suggested in a weak voice, barely audible under the crackling of the sorcerous battle.
Velasquez grunted, “Way ahead of you. Open fire!”
Fifty green beams struck Callie from multiple directions. She howled in pain and deflected a quarter of them, but the rest struck her, gradually tearing her apart.
Bailey’s heart skipped a beat as the witch tried to take advantage of the magical conduit by cycling the dispersal beams back at the werewitch, but Bailey grasped what was happening and redirected them first into the air above them, then back at their original target.
Whining and snarling, Caldoria dissolved back into random clouds of plasma under the combined assault from Bailey and the agents’ weaponry. Bailey ended the circuit, then seized control of the mass of collapsing power and forced it back into the crystal.
The agents stopped firing. The canyon was quiet, like someone holding their breath to see what would happen next. They all knew it wasn’t over, and more of the endless specters were spilling into the valley from the surrounding mountains.
Loki staggered up as Bailey knelt beside Roland. The wizard’s eyes were shut, and his pulse was disturbingly slow.
“Roland,” she panted. “Oh, God. Is he okay? I can’t tell!”
The god of mischief glanced down at the young man. “He’s fading. She took so much of his magic that his life essence was damaged as well. Bailey, he’s going to die.”
The werewitch froze. She refused to accept it while knowing it was probably true. Operating on primitive rage, she turned toward the giant green crystal, determined to avenge his death if nothing else. The abomination before her would go down in flames or better yet, a mushroom cloud.
Loki said, “Remember.”
Too many thoughts and emotions were crashing around in Bailey’s head, but she tried. Something Loki had said...about nuking things.
“No,” she breathed.
In her manifested form, Callie had been nearly the equal of a goddess, and that level of power was contained within the crystalline anchor. Bailey knew how to deal with goddesses. She sent out a mental astral tether, plunging into the green mass, opening it and letting it bleed out.
Into her.
The gathered humans watched in awe as a shifting mass of light resembling the aurora borealis in the northern sky played around the werewitch and the strange arcane structure before them. Power, visible and palpable, flowed from one to the other. The crystal’s swirling colors dimmed, and it began to crack.
Then it shattered, falling apart in a shower of dull pieces and letting out a shockwave of translucent light and wind.
Everyone except Bailey fell over, unharmed but stunned. The shockwave advanced outwards, and beneath its initial burst, they heard a ghostly wail—the sound of hundreds of identical voices moaning in defeat.
When the light struck the eldritch crone-duplicates around them, they vanished, leaving nothing behind—no residue to be mopped up. They were erased from existence. Their cries died out, and it was over. The magical plague created by Caldoria McCluskey was ended forever.
Agents and witches staggered to their feet and surrounded Bailey, who stood straight and still, facing the ruins of the crystal. Loki gazed at her with mounting awe.
She had absorbed the majority of the crystal’s stolen magic. The power contained within her was so massive it could not be hidden. It leaked out from between the atoms of her body.
“Oh, dear,” Loki gasped. “Bailey, you have, if anything, over-succeeded. You are now more powerful than Fenris.”
She turned and looked at him, her eyes blazing. Her voice echoed when she spoke, but its tone was sorrowful.
“I don’t care,” she stated. “What good is all this power if I can’t save the people I care about?”
The lord of mischief gave her a sly look. “You can’t?”
Bailey looked at Roland. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was close. The loss of magic had killed him.
Fenris had only shown her how to take magic from a supernaturally-empowered being and keep a portion of it for herself. Loki’s more recent lessons had included the sharing of power.
She sent out another astral tether, linking with Roland. The incredible might she wielded began to fade as arcane essence flowed from her to him. She gave him more than he needed since she figured she’d need all the help she could get in the final battle to come.
The wizard’s eyes flew open, and they shone with magic. He jerked in place, rose to his feet, and almost jumped in the air. “Whoa!” he exclaimed.
Dante burst into laughter as much from relief as from amusement. “Damn! We thought you were screwed, man, but it’s starting to look like the exact opposite.”
Roland twitched his limbs. “Er, yeah. Hell, I feel great.”
Bailey closed her eyes as she closed the conduit. She’d given up most of the extra power she’d gained. Still, she had
more than she’d had an hour ago, but not by much.
It was worth it. Roland would live, and her partner had attained a level of magical potency that was halfway to divinity.
Velasquez wiped his brow. “Mission accomplished. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Park looked around. “Anyone want one last MRE before we head home?”
Chapter Sixteen
“You’re going down. Your goddess mojo isn’t going to save you this time.”
Roland backed up his threat by hurling a massive bolt of lightning that flew at speeds the mortal eye could not follow. It transmuted into a small tidal wave, a flaming meteor, and a cascade of frozen acid shards in the span of a second.
Bailey laughed. “That’s impressive, but the goal isn’t to impress. It’s to, you know, win.”
She parted her fingers to each side of her face and the deceptive attack tore itself apart into a hundred sparks and fragments, though none reached her. They shot through the air, bouncing around erratically but clearly working their way toward Roland.
He scarcely raised a shield in time as the dangerous particles suddenly shot toward him, but rather than just blocking, the shield folded over itself to engulf and digest the projectiles, then converged on Bailey like a giant coiling mass of impenetrable arcane barrier-material.
The werewitch responded by rocketing straight up into the air, and the grassy field around the older family farm fell away beneath her, and Roland became antlike. The wizard followed her into the sky; he wasn’t as fast as she, but surprisingly close.
In mid-air, they traded blows with plasma blades and massive spheres of concussive force, trying to knock the other out of the air. Finally, Bailey tricked Roland with a basic feint rather than anything magical and walloped him with a kinetic blast that sent him hurtling toward the ground.
“Shiiiiiiiiit!” he yelled as he plummeted.
Bailey moved at an unnatural speed to get beneath him and cushion his fall. He probably could have done so himself, but she’d hit him fairly hard. He might have been dazed.
A moment later, two pairs of feet gently touched the grassy earth.
“Okay,” Roland panted, “that’s enough for today, I think. Since I’m not a frickin’ deity, I’d say I held my own pretty well.”
She hugged him. “Yeah, you did. Not bad at all, and you’re definitely stronger than you used to be. You’re a demigod now, I think.”
He laughed. “That’s good. It means I’m not marrying too far up the totem pole.”
“Right.” She planted a fast kiss on his lips. “We had a deal, though. Loser buys dinner for both. If you think I had an unfair edge, well, you’re the one who agreed to the duel.”
He pushed his lips out in an exaggerated put-upon expression and thrust his hands into his pockets. “Awww, do I hafta? Fine, I guess. The Elk?”
“Sure.” She hooked her arm through his, and they walked together back to Bailey’s truck. Since she had to drive over the bumpy-ass winding road to leave the old farmhouse behind, she figured it was only fair for Roland to buy the meal.
Once they were settled in their usual place, with Bailey sipping an orange soda and Roland a cup of decaf coffee, they turned to discussing the broader situation before them.
“So,” the wizard began, “offhand, I can’t think of anything else we’ll need to deal with except your soon-to-be-erstwhile mentor. Granted, he’s kind of a big deal, but at least there aren’t any other threats looming on the horizon.”
He frowned, his eyes going distant as he contemplated his words. “I think there aren’t anyway. It’s possible that fucking Shannon will still show up and try to make our lives miserable, though I doubt on the same scale as with Callie. The Venatori haven’t made a peep, either. We’ve maintained a good relationship between witches and Weres, and the agents are still our friends, mostly. There’s a bright side to look at.”
The girl chewed on and digested what her lover had said. “You’re right. All kinds of shit have been thrown at us, and we’ve rolled it all up. But the one thing that remains...it’s not exactly minor, Roland. Not only because we don’t know what all he has waiting in the wings, but, well…” She stopped and swallowed a lump in her throat.
Roland sensed that she wanted to say more but couldn’t yet, so he waited.
Ten seconds later, she found her words. “Fenris freed me, Roland. He saved me from the thing that was always hovering over my head like that sword in the old Greek myth dangling over the guy’s chair or whatever it was. He and I have been through about the same amount of shit that you and I have, and for about the same length of time. Not saying I, uh, value him more than you or anything, it’s just that I don’t want this to happen. I’d rather have him as a friend than an enemy. A mentor, like I thought he was.”
Roland’s smile was sad and sympathetic. Her right hand rested flat on the table and he put his own atop it, letting her feel its warmth.
“I understand. You might recall that I was a touch suspicious of him all along, but that calls the true nature of the issue to the forefront, doesn’t it? It was all a lie. He deceived you, and he’s using you. For all I know, amidst whatever bizarre things go on in the mind of an ancient god, maybe he does sort of care about you, but obviously not enough to be honest with you. And, of course, he plans to let you die in his place so he can bring about something you’ve been trying to prevent, which is a total catastrophe for the people you care about and everyone else.”
Hearing him put it that way, she felt the gnawing uncertainty that had squirmed around within her depart. Clarity remained where it had been, not to mention a low, bright, seething anger.
“Fuck,” she growled. “When the shit hits the fan, I’ll thank him for what good he’s done. Then I’m going to rip his goddamn head off.”
Roland leaned back. “I don’t doubt it. Do what you have to do, dear. As always.”
Tomi brought their food, and they ate. The conversation turned far more lighthearted as they joked about stupid bullshit and things they’d seen and heard the other witches and agents do or say during the long fight against the eldritch crones.
Roland forked pasta into his mouth. “One thing I am grateful for is that we’re back to eating the good shit instead of MREs. Actually, some of them weren’t half bad for what they were, but nothing beats real food.”
“Damn right,” Bailey concurred, biting into her hot steak sandwich and enjoying the way the juice ran down her chin.
They chose to walk home rather than drive, enjoying the pleasant summer evening. Bailey checked with the diner’s staff to make sure it was okay to leave their vehicle overnight. They were fine with it as long as they didn’t get so busy the next morning that they needed the extra parking space.
“Well,” Bailey told them, “you have my number if you need me to rush over.”
They took the long route along the north rim of town to be closer to the woods, though with dusk settling in, the mosquitoes were out in force.
Roland squirmed in discomfort and irritation. “Ugh, someone should spray for these things. Dear, you wouldn’t happen to know the chemical formula for Raid or any other insecticide, would you? If so, I’ll happily conjure a cloud of it to surround us.”
“I don’t, sadly,” she confessed. “Why not make our own bug zapper instead?”
They collaborated on creating a ball of light that smelled like blood and was surrounded by a powerful electrostatic field. It hovered by Bailey’s shoulder and buzzed more or less continuously as mosquitoes swarmed into it.
Roland sighed. “Why do all these rare and beautiful species of parrots keep going extinct, while mosquitoes, the most repugnant living things on the planet, are doing fine? It’s not fair, dammit. As a goddess, I demand you do something about that.”
She rubbed her chin. “I’ll think it over and see what I can do. I mean, ecology and shit isn’t part of my purview, but once all this is over—”
The air parted in front of them, and a
wavering purple gateway filled the gap. Out of it stepped a familiar tall, broad-shouldered, hooded figure.
“Oh,” Roland said, blinking. “Hi, Fenris. We were just talking about mosquitoes and parrots.”
The wolf-god glanced at him. “Hello, Roland. And that’s...interesting.” He turned his head toward Bailey. “I must talk to you about an extremely important matter.”
She nodded. “Okay, then. What is it?”
She was pretty sure she could guess.
Fenris hesitated a second, as though he would have preferred to talk to her alone, away from Roland. Neither of them offered this possibility; they simply stood looking back at him.
“What I have feared,” the hooded man began, “is coming to pass. In my rovings around the cosmos, observing troubling trends and speaking to my friends and informants, I have come to believe that the End will soon be at hand. A great doom is being planned for us all. Someone wishes to start Ragnarök.”
Bailey allowed her head to drop down a bit, and she frowned at the grass. “Dammit, Fenris. I was hoping we’d have good news for once.”
“So was I, but we cannot control the course of great events beyond ourselves, except in how we react to them. I still do not know who is planning this, or how or when they will strike, but we must be alert, prepared, and cautious. It is coming soon, Bailey. There is no escaping the basic fact that we must confront it.”
“Oh,” said Roland. “Well, that sucks. I was hoping we might take a trip to Disneyland California or something.”
Ignoring him, Fenris wrapped up his warning to the girl. “Be on guard. Our enemies will manifest soon, and it will be time to act. You will hear from me again, and it won’t be long. I can tell you no more at the time. Again, be wary.”
With that, he turned and stepped back through the portal he’d come in through, and it closed behind him. The dim amethyst light faded, leaving the forest in near-total darkness.
Bailey and Roland glared at the empty patch of air where the wolf-god had stood.
