by Alex Gates
“Stop it,” Annie said.
“What’s that, Andy? Did you say something?”
“Stop it!”
“Annie’s feet smell like old yogurt? Yeah, I agree with you. She should probably wash them every once in a while. You’re super duper right. Her breath does smell like skunk butt. Do you think she even owns a toothbrush?”
The Raven, much to my chagrin—I doubt I even used that correctly, but I love the word—pistol-whipped me across the skull. My body went hot with pain, and the cabin darkened and hazed around me. I groped for air. Blood slid down the back of my neck. The Raven placed both guns against my cheekbones again.
“I got one,” I muttered, though my head throbbed with each word. “Knock, knock.” If everyone on God’s green earth could infuriate me with knocking, well, I could do the same to them. No one responded, not even Xander, so I took the liberty. “Who’s there? Cow says. Cow says who?” I paused and grinned. “No, cow says moo.” I chuckled. “Want to hear another one?”
Xander, that sweet angel of mine, smirked and said, “Sure.”
“How do you make holy water?” I asked, though I glared at Xander. “And don’t ruin it. I know you know this joke.”
The Raven didn’t say anything—not surprising. This question probably seemed like equating high-level calculus to it. Annie gritted her teeth, averting her gaze.
“No one?” I asked. “Fine. Xander, do you know it?”
“I actually don’t,” he said, still playing along. Maybe there was a little life left in that old bag of bones after all.
“All right,” I said, clearing my throat. “You boil—”
“Enough!” the Raven said. “Another word, I shoot you in the foot.”
I rolled my eyes. What a buzzkill.
Maybe it was time to start this party. Since clouds had layered over the sun, shadows now coated the inside of the cabin. Though I’d failed to reach my new magic a few minutes ago, I wondered if it swelled a little higher now. The other times I’d been able to access it, I’d been under duress—my adrenaline all bonkers from trying to survive. With two guns shoved against my beautiful cheekbones and a shotgun pressed to Xander’s spine, I figured I might be able to access it now. The question was, should I?
If I used the power now, I could kill our two captors and surprise whoever meant to surprise us. But there was a chance they had set up a mental alarm system in anticipation of something happening to the Raven or Annie, and it would alert whoever we waited for. If that were the case, then they would know about my new ability, though. Right? Or am I overthinking this? My second option was to do nothing and wait for the situation to play itself out. That was our least likely chance of surviving this encounter, though.
We had to change the playing field to make them uncomfortable, to make them adapt.
It didn’t take much effort this time to find a crevice in the icy lake to breathe through. Inhaling the fresh power, I called to the shadows, and they wrapped around me like a blanket. They possessed a cold, malleable form, like clay. I didn’t believe anyone noticed what was happening, as the entire cabin was already drenched in darkness, but Xander glared at me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Had he noticed? How? Our captors hadn’t even flinched, appearing completely oblivious.
Pushing Xander’s judgments from my mind, I called for the shadows to enshroud me in their darkness. They obeyed, rolling over my skin like a shell. Then, like some asshole in Mario Kart, I launched that spinning shell like a percussive force. The Raven was lifted from the ground, slamming against the wall near the stove.
I leaped from my seat, the chair tumbling to the floor. My fingers tingled from the raw use of magic, and my head swam with power. My headache had gone the way of the dodo bird, and the pains in my right hand and my stomach and my ribs had followed. Using this level of power was a high in and of itself. Without the proper training—which is why universities were created—an untrained Sorcerer could become addicted to it. It’s like that old mantra—power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
From the ground, the Raven said, “The fuck?” It glanced around the room, baffled. “Kill Xander. They only want Joseph.”
Annie didn’t hesitate. She pulled the trigger at point-blank range.
I screamed, stepping through a shadow to appear beside Annie and disarm her, but my lack of control placed me beside the toppled Raven. Taking the lemons that life gave me, I grabbed the creature’s hair with my left hand and pulled its face forward to meet my driving knee. When its body went limp, I shoved the Raven to the floor. Forming a spiked stake from the malleable shadows, I shattered its spine, nailing the creature to the floorboards.
“You going to finish that punchline?” Xander asked, still sitting in his chair, completely intact and alive. He had one leg crossed over the other, and his hands rested in his lap. Over him, Annabel fumbled with the break-action of her shotgun, trying to stuff a shell into one of the barrels with trembling hands.
I couldn’t help but smile, though the exercise felt strange and alien on my face. His sense of humor really was returning. Miracles do exist. I strolled around the table—not sidestepping into a shadow this time, fearing I might end up in Milwaukee. That would be a real nightmare.
Annie saw me approaching her. “Andy! What do I do?”
“He says to drop the shotgun,” I said, “and take a seat. Sit in my chair.”
Annie’s eyes danced around the dark cabin, lingering on the Raven for a second. It lay on its stomach, unmoving beyond slow, raspy breaths. Blood pooled around its prone body.
“Kill it,” she said. “Don’t let it suffer any longer.”
“I want answers,” I said, taking the weapon and shells from her. I fit one into each chamber, than snapped the shotgun straight and handed it to Xander. “Then and only then, will I kill that vile creature. Now, pick up my chair and sit your scrawny ass down.”
She eagerly obeyed my command, scrambling around the table, lifting the chair and taking a seat. The Raven hissed for breath beside the stove, just behind her.
“And you,” I said to Xander. “You, you, you. Did you know her weapon wasn’t loaded?”
He stuck out his lower lip and shook his head, looking as smug as a bug in a rug. “I honestly thought it would jam if she fired.”
Despite Nephil existing in this world, it was still hard as shit to believe that an omniscient and omnipresent God existed, ruling over everything, and that He sometimes tasked his Archangels with divvying out pacts to humans so they could battle the darkness. Half the time, I didn’t believe Xander’s pact even existed. But on more than occasion during our time together, it was clear he received... assistance when carrying out a mission for the Big Guy.
“How do you make holy water?” Xander asked, reminding me of the joke.
“You boil the hell out of it,” I said, biting my lip to not laugh at myself.
Xander chuckled, entertaining my humor.
Annie whimpered and lowered her head.
I stomped over to her, pausing to kick the Raven in the face. My foot connected for the first time that day, and it felt very satisfying. One for three, now.
“Annie Bananie,” I said, placing my hands on my knees and leaning over so we were nose-to-nose. She smelled like old cheese and wet dirt. “What the hell’s bells is going on here?” With my index finger, I lifted her chin so her crazy eyes looked directly at me. “Why is there a Raven working with you?”
In response, the front door opened and Gladas walked in.
13
“Gladas,” I said, moving away from Annabel and retrieving the guns the Raven had so kindly dropped to the ground, “I’m so glad you didn’t knock. I really appreciate your lack of manners.” I raised a finger. “Speaking of lack of manners… sorry we completely bailed on your case. But, as luck would have it, here we all are, happy as clams on a grill. Good times, my man. Good times. Have a seat.” I nodded toward the chair Xander sat on.
<
br /> Gladas wore a fitted suit, as he had yesterday, and he smelled like smoke and leather. At his hip, he wore a cutlass—a pirate sword. It had a pearl handle and a kelp-colored blade. He stepped toward me. Let me repeat this for you, in case you were skimming and it flew right over your head—my man, Gladas, had a goddamn pirate sword on his hip.
I raised both guns. “Slow down there, Captain Jack. Another step and I might have to impair your ability to step. And that’s not a peg leg joke.” I winced and cocked my head, wondering if my threat even made sense.
It didn’t.
Gladas stepped closer. I might’ve been a grown-ass man afraid of cabins and horror movies. And maybe I was unequipped to deal with my emotions in a healthy manner. I was maybe even be weirdly turned on by cartoon characters. But I wasn’t a liar when it came to threats—even if those threats made little to no sense.
I lowered the Beretta and fired twice at his kneecap. The bullets snapped against his bone before clattering to the ground, as if they’d collided with Superman. Gladas didn’t so much as flinch at the impact. He took another easy step, standing toe-to-toe with me, the sidearms pressed into his steel-coated gut. He glared at me, daring me to shoot him again.
“You know,” I said, “if you don’t want to sit, don’t feel obligated to.”
“You’re late,” Annie said from her chair.
“No,” I answered. “A wizard is never late, nor is he on time. He arrives precisely when he means to.” Using the tip of the Beretta, I tapped it against Gladas’s chest. “Eh. Gandalf said that, I think. And by the way you took those bullets, I’d say you’re a wizard at the least. Maybe even a… Demi.”
“Joseph,” Gladas said in his mesmerizing baritone, “have a seat.”
Annie stood and offered me my old chair. She was a real sweetheart and a great hostess.
I glanced at Xander. “I hate to say this straight to your face, as I prefer to insult you behind you’re back… but you’re a dummy and I was right about everything. Has that ever happened before?” I looked at Gladas. “Before you kill us, can you at least allow me to bask in this moment? You see, Xander is usually the one who’s right about stuff, it’s never me. And I called this twist a while back. In fact, I don’t know if it’s even a twist anymore. It was expected. That’s the MF’n twist.” Returning my attention to Xander, I asked, “So, what’s the plan now?”
Gladas didn’t allow for us to make a plan. He drew his cutlass in a quick, sweeping motion. I almost wet my pants, thinking the bulletproof Victor’s Secret model—that’s a male underwear model—meant to cleave my head from my shoulders. Victor’s top model did not bounce my head across the cabin floor. Instead, he drove his blade through the Raven’s face, ending whatever pain its broken back had permitted. Gladas removed his cutlass with a sick sucking sound, reminding me why I’d avoided the sword focus—and a career in medicine.
I hated close combat. The blood and the spit and the sounds of breaking bones—ugh. Guns kept me at a healthy distance.
After using a pocket napkin thing to wipe the blood from his blade, Gladas placed the weapon back at his hip. He snatched the guns from my hands and put the serious end of the Beretta to my groin. “Please,” he said in a calm voice, “sit.”
The chair suddenly appeared pretty comfortable, and I felt quite weary on my feet. Sitting would probably do me good. Don’t you dare think Gladas had intimidated me into taking a seat, though. But after taking his advice—of my own free will, that is—he tossed the guns onto the table and grabbed the shotgun Xander held, leaning it against the wall. He turned toward us, rubbing his massive palms together.
I won’t lie to you, even though I lied to you earlier when I said I sat down of my own volition—I really sat down because the bullets had hurt Gladas about as much as a few soft kisses to his fun areas. The last thing I’d expected was for that beautiful man to have bulletproof, silver-proof, and holy-waterproof skin. As I sat under Gladas’s intimidating spell, my adrenaline spiked with my fear, causing a surge in my magic.
The cloud cover held over the sun, throwing a dense supply of shadows around the cabin. I could feel their cold subservience awaiting my commands. I reached for it.
“Do you know how to wield that umbrakinesis?” Gladas asked me. “Or do you threaten me like a child holding a toy gun?”
“Joey,” Xander said, speaking for the first time, “don’t do anything.”
I didn’t release my connection to the shadows. “You can sense my ability?”
Gladas scrunched his nose. “It’s repugnant. The stench of demons, is it not?”
“No,” I said. “I just farted earlier. It was on accident, but I think that’s the smell you’re referring to.”
Gladas glanced at Xander as he asked his question. “You can smell it, can’t you? That sulfuric signature is unmistakable.”
“You know,” I said, “this is pretty frustrating. First, I don’t know what the hell is happening. Why are we in this cabin? Is Annie really a victim to a Scylla, or is she a Scylla? Is Andy invisible or dead? Does Annie see dead people? Why was Annie working with a Raven? Should I call her Annabel or Annie? I like Annie, actually. Why are you here, Gladas? Can I get your number so we can hang out later? I’d love for you to buy me a drink.” I curled my lips into my mouth. “Oh, last question. Sorry, I’m a little scatterbrained right now. What do you mean, I smell like a demon?”
Gladas backed to the edges of the cabin, into the shadows, and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Knowing that I could manipulate the darkness, he had some real cajónes mocking me like that, taunting me to attack him.
“I recognized it back in your office,” Gladas said, speaking to Xander. “You have a celestial pact, do you not?”
“I do,” Xander said, his steely gaze never flinching from the man. “And you are a Demi, are you not?”
“I’ll reserve my answers for a later time.”
“Holy humdingers,” I said, just speaking to hear my own voice. “You’re a Demi? And you didn’t say anything up front? I thought we were cooler than that.”
Gladas shifted his attention to me. “Why is a demon keeping company with a man of God?”
I scratched my chin, utterly lost on how to respond. “It all makes sense. Of course you’re a Demi. How else would you explain your unrealistically good looks? Listen, I’m about as straight as a stick of licorice, but I would’ve banged you in a heartbeat.”
“Annabel,” Gladas said, “speak your mind. Will they serve our purpose, or will we serve her purpose?”
“Is it, like, a bad-guy law to be as vague as possible during conversations?” I asked.
“She’s cursed,” Xander said, “isn’t she?”
“Now, hold your teeny weeny,” I said. “Don’t just going throwing accusations out in the open like that. I was right, remember? I figured out her curse, not you.” I nodded at Gladas. “I did figure it out. Not even kidding you. Some people laugh at my eighty-eighty IQ. You know what I tell them? I say, hate to brag, but it’s almost an A-minus.” I showed my teeth.
Annie licked her chafed lips. “Yes,” she said, staring at the floor.
Xander sighed, glancing at Gladas and Annie, then back at me. He opened his mouth and said, “You went to Circe—”
“Wait,” I said, before he had the chance to continue. “If I’m about to be on the receiving end of a James Bond villain’s rant to advance our… investigation… I would rather hear the bad guy do it.”
“What are you talking about, Joey?” Xander asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Let’s get this over with.”
Of all the people in that room to speak, Annie stepped forward. She twirled her raggedy hair with a dirty finger and stared at Gladas, though I suspected she spoke to me and Xander. “I’m a Scylla,” she said, her voice syrupy from holding back tears. “Cursed by Circe, Hecate’s daughter.”
“Annabel,” Gladas said, moving toward her and placing a hand on her trembling body,
“we have another option. An easier, more guaranteed option.”
Annie lifted her face to Gladas. “No, we don’t. Circe will never lift the curse from me… not unless you give yourself to her. We only have one choice, here.” She swallowed. A tear streaked down her cheek, glowing in the fading light.
“You don’t even have to start from the beginning,” I said. “Just give us something to work with, here. You guys are on page three hundred, and we’re, like, on page one hundred and eighty-two.”
Gladas turned from Annie and faced Xander and me. He sighed. “Years ago, I fell in love with a beautiful woman.”
“Not from the beginning,” I said.
Annie stepped forward. “I refused his proposal, and he went to Medea for help—she claimed to have made a few love potions. Circe was with her, and the Nephil fell in love with Gladas at first sight… but Nephil aren’t allowed to mingle with humans. So, to be with him, she drained some of her powers, lowering her status to a Demi, and she granted them to Gladas, rising him to a Demi.”
“Wait,” I said, lifting a hand. “Few questions. One, and this is for Gladas. Annie was eighteen when her brother died.” I glanced at the cot. “Sorry, Andy, I just call it how I see it.” Returning my attention back to Gladas, I said, “So, if you fell in love with her, how old was she in your perverted head? And how old were you? Don’t get me wrong, you’re a beautiful man who looks incredible for any age, but that doesn’t mean eighteen and twenty-nine is a reasonable thing. I mean, I’m thirty. What if I was at a high school checking out the honeys?” I scowled. “Nope. That even sounds weird to say. But we’ll circle back to that when the vomit taste leaves my mouth. Second question. That can really happen? A Nephil can turn a human into a Demi?”
“It is extremely uncommon, for it comes at a great cost to the Nephil,” Gladas said, repeating what Dakota had said.
Maybe that woman knew more than I’d given her credit for—which scared me a little. Why would a Sheep know so much about the supernatural world? Knowing more than me was one thing, but she knew more than Xander on this.
