“With humankind first on the chopping block,” added Maeve. “But not last.”
My frown deepened. “This is starting to sound like a civil war.”
Drusilla threw her hands up, palms facing outward. “Nobody’s saying that.”
“Yet,” said Mid.
“So you see why it’s more important than ever to keep the humans in check?” asked Maeve. “To make sure they don’t give the anti-human faction fuel for the fire?”
“Okay.” I paused. “Then what you’re saying is, we need to come down hard on humanity for pollution, because if we don’t, the anti-human faction will come down too hard?”
“Basically,” said Mid. “And we need to be ready for a surprise civil war among the Earth Mothers at any time.”
“Which could tear the world apart as effectively as humankind,” said Maeve.
“Well, that’s a relief.” I pretended to wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Here I thought you were going to say there was something to worry about.”
Everyone laughed at that except Drusilla.
“So, now you see why we need those new avatar recruits,” said Maeve. “And having them be pro-humanity wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
“Relatively speaking, pro-humanity,” said Mid. “Maybe anti-human-extinction would be a better way of putting it.”
“While still being anti-pollution,” agreed Drusilla. “Extremely so.”
“You want to stack the deck,” I said.
“Just a little,” said Mid. “Just enough.”
“Because you better believe they will do the same thing,” said Maeve.
“All right then. I’ve already got a recruit for you.” I turned and smiled at Rune. “And yes, I know in my heart she’ll make a hell of an avatar.”
Rune looked stunned. “Me? Are you serious?”
I looked at the Earth Mothers, and they all looked at each other, just as surprised as Rune seemed to be.
I didn’t give them much time to raise an objection, though, before throwing my arm around Rune’s shoulders. “So, how would you like to give your Earth-saving efforts some real teeth? Without wiping humankind from the face of the planet, that is.”
Rune took off her dark-rimmed glasses with the coffee saucer lenses. At first, I thought she was just rubbing her eyes for effect, or because of irritation…but then I realized she was dealing with something else.
She didn’t say a word to answer my question, but she didn’t need to. Her vigorous nodding told us everything.
That, and the tears of joy overflowing her eyes.
By the time I returned to Charmer Investigations, it was already dark out, and I was tired. The rest of the meeting at Doc Yough’s had taken hours, as the Earth Mothers and I had discussed business, arranged for Rune’s upgrade to avatar, and just enjoyed each other’s company. In the end, there had been hugs all around and promises to get together soon and often in the interest of friendship as well as saving the world.
Now, all I wanted to do was check the office, go home, and go to bed.
Parking on the street, I saw the office was dark, but someone was loitering outside. Concerned, I hopped out of the Highlander, ready for action—and instantly relaxed. Two steps from the curb, I could make out who the loiterer was.
“Luna?” I approached her slowly.
She was craning her head to look up at the night sky, hands on her hips. “Hi, Gaia.” She didn’t sound happy. “How was your meeting?”
“What’s going on, Luna?” I drew up beside her, apprehensive. “Are you okay?”
“See that?” She kept staring at a point in the sky.
Following her gaze, I saw the full moon hanging there, huge and white. “Your world,” I said. “Sister of the Earth.”
“Take a really good look,” she told me. “Notice anything different about it?”
I squinted, searching for the difference she wanted me to see. “Should I?”
“Maybe not,” said Luna. “But I do.”
“What is it, then?” I asked.
Still, she kept her gaze glued on the moon. “It might not be visible to the naked eye yet. Most people won’t feel the effects yet. But to me, it’s practically screaming. I’m the moon’s avatar, and it won’t stop screaming in my head.” Wincing, she reached up and rubbed her temples.
I still couldn’t see any difference. “Screaming about what?”
“Falling, Gaia. The moon is falling toward the Earth. It’s getting closer every second.”
Hearing that, I felt a fresh cloud of dread pass over my soul. I’d just gone through hell in every possible way, and now this?
“What could be causing it?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” said Luna, “but we need to do something.”
“Like what?” I didn’t even know where to start. Could the combined power of the Earth Mothers and Landkind have an impact?
“Only my people can stop this,” she told me, “and they’re up there, asleep.” Still, her eyes were glued on the giant white disk in the sky. “Someone has to wake them up soon, or we’ll all have the same nightmare.”
“Meaning what?”
“Eventually, the moon will fall all the way,” said Luna, “and two worlds will collide into one.”
Gazing up at the moon, I still wasn’t sure it looked closer…but I trusted Luna. As the avatar of that long-dead little world, she knew it as intimately as I knew the Earth. She was the expert, and I knew better than to doubt or downplay what she told me…unfortunately.
I’d only just started getting back to normal, and I hadn’t fully processed my situation with Briar or my feelings for Ebon (if any), and all I wanted to do was live and be calm for a while, enjoying the “smooth sailing” side of my bipolar existence…but based on what she’d told me, that wouldn’t be possible. As usual, it was “sinking fast” all over again. Why did it always have to be “sinking fast?”
It was starting to feel like a curse.
“So, Luna,” I said. “What can we do to wake your people from here?”
“Nothing.” Finally, she looked down to meet my gaze. “Nothing from here.”
“From where, then?” I knew the answer before I asked the question, and I didn’t want to hear it, but I had to ask anyway. “Where do we have to go to wake them?”
Still holding my gaze, she slowly raised a finger and pointed at the full moon, which suddenly looked much bigger and more terrifying than it had ever before looked in my life.
About the Author
Robert Jeschonek is a USA Today bestselling, envelope-pushing author whose fiction and comics have been published around the world. His Gaia Charmer, World Warrior urban fantasy series features an edgy heroine with the power to control the substance of the Earth itself. Robert’s work has appeared in Fiction River, PodCastle, Pulp Literature, Galaxy’s Edge, and other publications. A member of the Uncollected Anthology urban fantasy collective, he has written official Doctor Who fiction, as well as comics for DC, AHOY, and others. His young adult fantasy, My Favorite Band Does Not Exist, was named a Top Ten First Novel for Youth by Booklist magazine. Robert has won an International Book Award and a Scribe Award for Best Original Novel from the International Association of Media Tie-in Writers. Visit him online at www.robertjeschonek.com. You can also find him on Facebook and follow him as @TheFictioneer on Twitter. For free fiction and fun, join his reading group, Robert’s Readers, on Facebook.
Special Preview: Earthshaker
Gaia Charmer, World Warrior Book 1
Sexy private eye Gaia Charmer brings new meaning to the words "Earth Angel." This mysterious (and bipolar) bombshell has the power of the Earth itself at her command. To bring in the bad guys and save the day, she can cause earthquakes, hurl boulders and dirt, open fissures and sinkholes, summon quicksand, and control the planet’s most powerful forces. But when the murder of Gaia’s best friend knocks her world off its axis, she flies into a terrible new orbit.
How did I
stop Ray Long the killer from getting away that night? I threw gravel at him, lots and lots of gravel. And not with my hands, either.
I'm special like that. And Ray was stupid. Unlucky's a better word. How was he to know he was dealing with someone like me? Maybe I should've worn a sign for him: "Gaia Charmer. In touch with the Earth."
Make that "Really in touch with the Earth."
Maybe Ray would've rethought his plan to kill his last victim at the quarry if he'd known what I can do. And if he'd known I was hot on his trail that night.
He should've known, though. I warned him when he got away the first time. I told him I was going to stop him from killing anyone else. But hey, he underestimated me, which is easy to do. I'm five foot two, in my early twenties, blonde, and petite—not exactly a powerhouse to look at. Works in my favor again and again, which is awesome. Ray wasn't the first, and he won't be the last to experience my hardcore ways.
Sooner or later, they all find out what it's like when the Charmernator rolls over 'em.
That night, it was the middle of summer in west-central Pennsylvania, mid-July and counting. The moon was full and yellow over the Allegheny Mountains, bobbing like a dumpling in the hot broth of thick humidity.
Honestly, I was almost too late. I'd just discovered (via other special skills of mine) that Ray was killing and dumping the missing kids at the Buckhorn Quarry. I'd gotten there as fast as I could, but I was still cutting it close. Ray had the kid staked out in the dirt and was sharpening his machete by the time I showed up.
Which was all the more reason for me not to waste a second. I didn't pussyfoot around talking things over with Ray or trying to be tricky. I just pulled out all the stops and went at him as hard as I could.
Which, believe me, is pretty damn hard.
As soon as Ray heard me coming, crunching gravel underfoot, he swung his flashlight around and caught me in the beam of it. Shielding my eyes from the glare, I saw his other arm reach around behind him for what had to be a gun. So I jumped into action.
The thing about the quarry was, it was full of all kinds of rock and dirt...and that, my friend, is something I can work with. I'm the original rock star, you might say.
Sweeping my hands around, I aimed at a pile of gravel midway between us, and I focused. Extended my will through my fingertips, if you know what I mean...reached out and touched the gravel with my mind. Felt the size and shape and texture of the pieces. Felt the multitude of forces acting upon them, the halos of gravity and electromagnetism and cosmic radiation. The forces pulsating within them, too—the jostling of molecules and atoms, the spinning of electrons and quarks, the whisper of quantum foam, the humming of superstrings. All the qualities adding up to a marvelous portrait of a pile of objects, a true work of art that I'm privileged to see because of my talents.
Feeling and seeing and sensing all that, I knew how to mold those forces, how to make them do what I wanted. And then I gave them a push.
Keep in mind, this all happened in a fraction of a second. Ray was still in the process of drawing his gun when the first bits of gravel hopped off the pile and shot toward him.
I flicked my fingers back and forth from the pile to Ray. Each time, more gravel jumped the gap and clocked him, dinging off his head and arms and chest. Instead of bringing around his gun, Ray swatted at the flying pebbles, batting them away from his face and body.
But he couldn't stop them all. He grunted as the ones that got through pelted his cheeks and throat, popped against his belly and crotch.
Then, it was time to close the deal. I balled my hands up into fists and pointed them at the pile, letting my power and awareness gather and grow. Picking up as much rock as I could, cupping it in my hands—I mean my mind but it felt like my hands, like I was holding it and getting ready to let it go.
And then I swooped my fists toward Ray and threw what I held. Half the pile of gravel leaped at him, crashing in a wave he couldn't hope to swat away. He screamed as it hit him, all nine thousand five hundred and twenty-one pieces of rock (exactly that many, I felt them) coming down on all quadrants of his body, bruising and breaking and smashing in much the same way he'd wrecked those six kids. A few pieces at a time might have been no worse than bugs, but that wave of almost ten thousand little rocks acting together must have felt like a wall hitting him.
None of it touched the kid staked to the ground, though. Guided by my mind, it all stayed focused on killer Ray, dancing over the little girl as if he had an invisible bubble parked around her. Every last piece of gravel had a single purpose only—to batter Ray Long till he gave up and fell down.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen as fast as I thought it would. Somehow, Ray got his piece out and threw shots into the shower of stone, as if that was going to help. Then, fighting the tide, he managed to crank his arm in my direction and got lucky. Pumped out a bullet that grazed my shoulder, the son of a bitch.
It was enough to break my concentration and my hold on the gravel, which stopped in mid-flight and dumped to the ground. As I cried out and grabbed at my stinging shoulder, Ray scrambled out of the mess of rock and ran off.
Ran off into the quarry, the dumbass. My own personal playground, you might say.
I followed him into the maze of rock and dirt piles, running full tilt in the moonlight. Reaching out with my mind and power, I tugged at a dirt mound ahead of him, bringing it down in a landslide to block his path. When he darted in another direction, I knocked rocks off a heap, sending them bouncing straight for him. One caught him in the hip, another bashed his ankle, but he staggered for only a moment and kept going.
Ray disappeared around a hill of limestone chunks, and it took me a few steps to catch sight of him again. That was when I realized he might get away. The S.O.B. had a motorcycle stowed behind the limestone, about thirty yards back. He leaped onto the seat and started the engine; the front wheel was pointing right at me.
As the bike's headlight flared on, I stopped in my tracks and quickly assessed the options. Lots of rock and dirt around, but I could only move so much of it at a time. Dipshit Ray might just power through any shower of rubble I could whip up.
Time for another tack, I thought. Reach into my bag of tricks for something different. Something guaranteed to lay him out fast.
Dropping to a squat, I planted the palm of my left hand on the ground. Reached out through my fingertips into the layer of earth between me and Ray.
As Ray revved the bike and threw it into gear, I felt the intricate web of tiny fissures and fractures lacing the surface. Sensed the vibrations flowing through them from the bike, rumbling and crackling and splintering, spreading the web further in all directions.
The bike leaped toward me, but I stayed cool. Closing my eyes, I picked out the soft spots between us, the points where the underlying rock had been weakened...each a glowing red pocket of stress in my mind. A button to be pushed.
And then I pushed one. As the roar of the motorcycle approached me, I lifted my hand, made a fist, and brought it down hard on a precise point on a fracture line. Poured my inner force into the blow, giving it more impact than the punch of a single fist.
I felt the power surge out of me like fire, saw it in my mind's eye like silver lightning flickering through the web. The bolt slashed along a jagged path of fractures and fissures, charging like an errant spark through the cracks in a shattered mirror.
And then it hit the stress pocket, and I felt it implode. The soft spot suddenly gave way, and the ground sank.
Right in the path of the motorcycle.
A hole opened up in front of Ray, the ground dropping too fast for him to swerve. The bike's front tire lurched down into the pit and caught there, spinning the rest of the bike over it. Ray, too. He hurtled from his seat and flew through the air, sailing over my head. He came down ten yards behind me on the pile of limestone, cracking his head and bones on sharp corners of solid rock.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and got to my feet. Turned and looked at him. Sho
ok my head.
There he was, unconscious, ready for delivery to the authorities. The monster who'd killed six kids and who'd been about to kill a seventh was out of the game. People could breathe a little easier. And it was all thanks to me.
This was what I call "smooth sailing"...the kind of moment when I am absolutely high on life. When I'm feeling so good about who I am and what I do that I could just dance like a fool. I saved a life, beat the bad guy, made a difference. Hallelujah!
I made a point to drink it in while it lasted, because I knew it wouldn't. I smiled and raised my bright blue eyes to the full moon, because I knew myself too well, and I knew "smooth sailing" would become the opposite extreme far too soon. It would quickly turn into "sinking fast," no matter what I did, because that's just how I am.
But for that moment, I took a deep breath of the humid, dusty air, and I let myself grin. Time to untie and console the victim. Time to hand over Ray Long to the cops. Plenty of good stuff still to come.
Closing my eyes, I danced a little. I swayed from side to side in the moonlight, happy to be alive. Happy to be in the world, to be special, to be me.
And I spun around once, feet turning in the dirt, hands clasped to my chest as if cradling my beating heart.
One great night's sleep later, and sure enough, the thrill was gone. Just like I'd expected, but not because I wanted it that way. Believe me, I'd rather have smooth sailing all the time, swear to God...but I don't have the choice. It's just how I am.
"Bipolar," they call it. To me, it's just business as usual.
By the time I walked in the front door of the agency, I felt like I wanted to kill myself. Put myself in a coma, at least.
I slammed the door behind me and knocked over the umbrella stand with my shin—and for what? For absolutely no good reason.
I owned the agency, for crying out loud. Cruel World Travel was all mine, free and clear; I was working for no one but myself. Business was good; it was nine in the morning, and there were already customers in the place. Plus which, my partner, Duke, was doing all the work. Truth was, he almost always did all the work, and he did it without complaining.
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