Paden raised his hand as though gentling a skittish horse. “Easy now. There’s no need for that.”
She appealed to Paden. “But how do I get rid of it?”
He tipped his head to the side, his expression confused. “The same way you summoned it.”
“I don’t know how,” she said.
Paden frowned at her, clearly not believing her. “Then I suggest you try.”
Zenith shook her hand, trying to dislodge the sword. The hilt rested in her palm, but she didn’t want to hold it. She shook her hand again, trying to get it to go away. The blade would act more like a neon sign. She didn’t know how to use it to defend herself with it. She hadn’t been trained in weaponry. She waved her arm over her head and then in front of her body.
“Argh,” she yelled.
Paden took a step backward. His men followed.
There had to be a word or phrase to make the weapon do what she wanted. Some sort of feeling that would make it disappear. She cycled through a bevy of Fae words she knew. A moment later, a murder of crows gathered at the top of the building right next to her. Probably also accidentally summoned.
She accidently sliced through the dumpster and two trashcans. A cat yowled and darted down the street. “Sorry, sorry. Sssshhh.”
Paden bellowed. “Freeze.”
Zenith sighed. Nothing she tried worked. If past experience had taught her anything, it wouldn’t go away until she’d given up on making it. Zenith bolted toward the end of the street and around the corner, running as hard and fast as she could.
The Fae gave chase. Through the blocks they ran, around corners, and through side streets. They gathered attention as they tore through the crowds. Zenith tried to keep the sword tucked close to her, but she sliced through three shopping bags and caught the fetlock of a dancing faun. He howled in pain.
“Sorry,” Zenith called over her shoulder. She hoped he heard her.
Paden hadn’t summoned his wings. Fae could fly. Why hadn’t he launched into flight? His kind had wings. She pushed the thought aside.
At the next corner, Zenith took a hard left and into another alley almost identical to the first. Though, a heavy cloud fogged the space between the two buildings. She ducked into the dumpster, hoping the thick metal would hide the glow of her accidental weapon. She peered through a hole in the side.
A moment later, the five-fold Fae jogged into the alley. They searched up and down until, finally, the leader straightened. He stared directly where Zenith hid, through the holes in the dumpster, and into her eyes. He had to see the glint of her glowing sword. She chewed her bottom lip, and her pulse pounded in her ear.
The moment felt like an hour.
He knew. He knew exactly where she was hiding. He could probably see the glow from the sword that wouldn’t disappear. Why else would he look at her?
Zenith’s heart thumped in her chest, and she held her breath. She couldn’t move. If she bolted, they’d catch her for sure. If she was arrested, what would happen to Sam? Who would make sure she woke up every few hours?
Paden’s expression hardened, but he turned away. “Did you hear that? Sounds like it’s down the block.”
His men glanced at one another as though confused. “Sir, would you like us to search the alley to be certain? We haven’t checked the dumpster.”
He shook his head, his plume waving in the light breeze. “Down the block, men.” Then the leader turned away, and his subordinates followed.
She scowled at the blade. Instead, of disappearing, a cardboard piece beside her caught fire. She climbed out of the dumpster fire and shook her fist at the air. “Go away, magic sword. Bippity-boppity-boo.”
Nothing happened, and she sighed. Those words were the only magical ones she knew. She had to make her way home with a weapon she couldn’t get rid of. At the corner, she caught the arm of a stranger. She pointed out the fire, and they ran off to call the peacekeepers.
A lonely crow dove down to land on her droopy shoulder. She slipped out of the alleyway. Zenith began the trudge home. She might as well be caring a neon sign, begging everyone on Unseen Street to notice her. Her whole body sagged.
Glancing over her shoulder every few minutes, she hurried the ten blocks home to their shack near the ocean inlet. Her magic remained volatile, unpredictable, and Zenith didn’t know how to control it any more than Sam did hers. The sword would go away eventually.
What if it doesn’t?
The question popped up, as it always did, but she had to believe this would be like all the others. When would she figure out how to control her magic?
She sighed.
One thing was for sure, if Sam knew what was good for her, she wouldn’t make fun of Zenith’s new appendage. She turned to grimace at the blackbird on her shoulder. Or her new bird friend.
Hideout
Once inside the shack, Zenith frowned at the sword still in her hand. She opened her fingers, but it didn’t go anywhere. The crow on Zenith’s shoulder picked through her hair. Magic could be such a pain in the butt. Someday, Zenith promised herself, she’d figure out how to use it better than anyone else.
Samantha, an earth elemental, slept on the bed they shared as sister-friends. A large square of cardboard served as a floor covering. They’d painted starry night designs across it.
Sam’s dark hair stretched across the burlap pillow. Made out of discarded Fae grass and old newspapers, the mattress had served its purpose since they’d had to move to the shack on the wharf.
Beneath their tattered cover, Samantha whimpered. She had nightmares nearly every time she slept longer than a couple of hours. It was like her brain replayed her parents’ deaths over and over, trying to get it right. She didn’t talk much about it. It wasn’t something they’d figured out how to get rid of.
“Sam,” Zenith said.
Sam didn’t answer, but she trembled until the edges of the cover flapped like a flag in the tide winds. Convulsions came next. They always did.
Zenith shook her hand, opening and closing her fingers. The glittery weapon remained. If she didn’t get Sam awake soon, she might pull their hut down like she had the last one. The raven squawked and flew to the window cut-out on the other side of the shack.
“Sam, wake up,” Zenith spoke loudly into the quiet room. The crow chided her for the excess noise.
Sam groaned, and the ground vibrated. “Don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “Don’t hurt them,” she cried. “Let them go.”
Zenith kicked the bed. “Sam, wake up.”
Sam’s eyes popped open, the pupils completely obscured by opaque glowing white. “Zenith?”
“It’s okay, Sam. Nightmares.”
The cloudy film dissolved, and her eyes turned their normal red amber. Her eyes dropped to the magic sword. “Magic on the fritz again?”
“Pretty much.”
“Did I damage much?”
“Not this time.”
Sam smoothed her hand across her forehead. “Thank goodness.” She climbed to her feet. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d decided to leave me, you know.”
“I know you wouldn’t have,” Zenith murmured. “It was a good excuse to move closer to the water. You know blue feet would rather be close to water anyway.”
Sam sat up and her eyes widened. “What’s with the bird?”
Zenith shrugged. “Showed up about the same time the sword did. Maybe I summoned him, too.”
Sam reached for the creature, but it hopped to the farthest end of the ledge. Finally, it snapped its beak at her, and she yanked her hand back. “Never mind then.”
It grumbled once and then launched itself out the window. It made one circle and then angled off toward the public beach on the other side of the rock levy.
Zenith turned a cracked bucket upside down and took a seat. Her knees grazed the edge of their bed. The room they lived in wasn’t much bigger than a closet. At least the temperate climate of Unseen Street kept them from freezing to death. The weather
wasn’t as agreeable out in the mortal world.
A week ago, Sam rattled their lean-to down around her ears. Zenith hadn’t been around when it happened but found her in the rubble afterwards, still nightmaring. If it happened again, they had agreed to move into a tent together. They could get one from the military surplus booth in the bazaar. At least falling canvas wouldn’t kill them if it landed on them.
Sam’s stomach growled. “Did you bring anything to eat?”
“I managed to swipe a Stygian apple.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Where is it?”
Zenith offered a sheepish smile.
Sam frowned and crossed her arms. “Let me guess. Big-eyed kid, massive sob story.” She sighed. “You’re such a softie.”
“Actually, he was a dragon shifter, I think. Shivering up a storm.”
“Even as warm as it is, it’s too cold here for their kind.”
“He doesn’t know how to get home either.”
Sam giggled. “Naturally.” She stifled a yawn. “Between your magic fritzing all the time, my nightmares, and being a couple of suckers with tender hearts, it’s a wonder we survive at all.”
Zenith snorted. “True enough.”
“I’m going check the traps. Wanna come?”
“Can’t do anything else right now.”
Together, they exited the tiny shack. Seagulls called overhead, soaring on the tide winds. At the far end of the fishing dock, Sam grasped a rope and pulled it up. Two fish flapped in the bottom of the basket.
“Think you can start a fire with that?” She gestured toward Zenith’s sword.
“No, but I can write my name.” Zenith demonstrated.
“Useful.” Sam pursed her lips.
A rustle in the shrubs nearby set Zenith on edge, and she crouched down to get a better look. She peered into the orange-green leaves. Were those slit eyes that stared out?
Zenith jerked her head toward the hiding place. “Do you see anything over there?”
“Did anybody follow you?”
“Dragon-shifter boy did for a block, but not after I gave him the Stygian apple.”
“Hmm.” Sam flipped the fish to descale the other side. She took her time turning around. If somebody watched them, they didn’t need to know they’d been caught yet. When she settled back in place beside the fire, she whispered, “It’s something alright. Small and squat, though. Maybe the boy?”
“Could be.”
Sam sat back on her heels. “Lovely.” She dropped the trap back down into the water. “Two fish for three people.”
“Maybe he won’t come out.”
“Wishful thinking,” Sam said. She turned the fish once more and declared them ready for cooking. “I hope these turn out decently.”
Zenith’s stomach rumbled, and she pressed a hand to her middle. “Decent will be a feast,” she said. “We didn’t eat yesterday.”
They made their way back to the bank. Zenith jogged back inside, grabbed a knife and a beat-up skillet. Then she returned to pile kindling in a small mound while Sam prepped the fish.
Zenith snapped her fingers once and frowned when a flame didn’t appear on her fingertips. “Your turn,” she said.
Sam tugged a lighter from her pocket to light a small fire. She tossed the fish onto the pan. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“What’s that?” Zenith asked, her eyes drawn back to the trembling bush. The eyes glinted in the light, and Zenith once more caught sight of the slit eyes that stared out.
“We need help.”
Zenith scowled. “With what?”
Sam gestured toward her own head. “This.” Then she gestured toward the blade still attached to Zenith’s arm. “That.”
Zenith tucked it behind her body. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard there’s a magic school in the mortal side of the world.”
Zenith shook her head. “We leave the mortals alone, and they leave us alone. It’s a fine arrangement. I’d like to keep it that way.”
Sam stretched and then lifted the pan from the fire. “I’ve heard good things about New Haven City. Maybe somebody there could take you in and give you magic lessons.”
“Not somebody like me.”
“Why not?”
“Everybody knows blue feet are hybrids. Most of them are mercenaries. I’ve spent most of my life thieving around Unseen Street.” Who would take somebody like me?
“I don’t think the mortals have the same feelings about hybrids. There’s a magical school in Bayburgh, too. Maybe they would teach you how to use your magic.”
Zenith tucked the sword behind her body. “Why would I care about a school in the mortal world?”
“Then you could undo your spells without waiting for them to wear off.”
“I don’t have to wait for them to wear off.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Did you even try to summon that thing?”
Zenith’s cheeks heated. “I must have since it showed up.”
“You’re right. What was I thinking?” She sighed. “Let’s go inside.”
On their way in, something in the wind tickled Zenith’s nose, and she sneezed. A moment after, the sword’s magical glow winked out. Triumphant, Zenith held up her hand, glad she hadn’t accidentally sliced her leg in two. “See? All it takes is a sneeze.”
Sam gave her friend a dark look, but cut another yawn short. “If you could learn how to magic, you could teach me how to magic. Maybe I could get some decent sleep once in a while,” she muttered.
For the first time, Zenith wondered if her friend might be right. Maybe learning how to magic was as important as having it. Since Zenith’s parents had abandoned her, she always believed her magic skills would eventually “come on.” Like instincts or milk on a mother mooncat. But it didn’t seem to happen that way. Everyone had a spark. The actual usefulness of the spark had much to do with the training of the spark.
“Call your friend inside,” Sam said.
“If we feed him, he’ll never leave.”
“True enough,” Sam said. “But we have a vacancy.”
“Oh?”
“We don’t have a mascot. Maybe he wouldn’t mind serving in that capacity until I can conjure something.”
“Hmph,” Zenith said. Then she took two steps toward the door and stopped at the threshold. She leaned toward the shrubs and waved. “You coming? Though, you shouldn’t be hungry after that piece of fruit.”
Slowly, a figure straightened out of the bush. “How’d you know it was me?”
“We can smell dragon-shifters,” Zenith yelled and then stepped back inside. She took a seat on her crate and Sam took a seat on the bed. They placed the pan between them.
A shadow darkened their doorstep. The dragon-shifter boy peered inside. “Can you really smell dragon-shifters?”
Zenith chucked. “Your eyes give it away.”
He kicked at the ground. “Everyone says that.”
“Everyone would,” Zenith said. “There’re remarkable.” She paused. “You going to eat with us?”
“Only two fish,” he said.
Sam patted the mattress beside her. “But enough is plenty in times like these,” she said. “Best you come on. Zenith’s a far sight more stubborn than I am, and that’s saying something.”
He studied his toes, but he didn’t cross over the threshold. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have.”
Zenith didn’t know what to say in response to the boy’s admission. Instead of saying anything, she pulled a piece of flakey white goodness from the pan and shoved it in her mouth. “Mmm,” she said. “You like fish?”
The boy lifted his chin, and his eyes widened. He licked his lips.
“Come in, then. We can discuss particulars later.”
An hour later, a knock at the door startled them all. “Zenith Calhoun? Are you in there? This is the Unseen Street Peace Force. Come out with your hands up.” A bullhorn amplified the voice, but Zenith frowned. She
didn’t recognize who it could have been. Could it have been Paden, determined to get his revenge? There wasn’t any way to know.
The two inhabitants froze and then glared at the boy. Who could know she lived there unless he’d brought them directly to their door.
“Did you do this?” Sam snarled at him.
“I had no idea they planned to follow me,” the boy said.
Zenith’s shoulders drooped. “We have no choice, then.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asks.
Zenith jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “We have to go out the back way,” she whispered. Then she turned toward the door and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Just a minute,” she yelled.
Sam cringed. “You think they’ll fall for that?”
Zenith shrugged. “Worth a shot.”
“Zenith Calhoun, come out with your hands up,” bullhorn voice repeated. “You have ten seconds or we’re coming in.”
The boy raised his eyebrows, and Zenith put a finger to her lips. Sam nodded once and then crouched down, grasping the edge of the painted floor covering. Quietly, they lifted the large piece of cardboard from the floor and placed it on top of the homemade mattress. A square had been cut into the floor with a handhold cut into the wooden planking.
Zenith pointed. “It’s a trapdoor. You ready?”
A smile split the boy’s face.
Sam opened the hatch, and the three climbed down through the floor to a platform suspended beneath the wharf and about a yard above the water. A small dinghy waited on the surface of the water below.
Zenith was the last through and pulled the large piece of cardboard down from the bed, so it was closer to the hatch. “Escape route,” Zenith whispered to the boy. “But it won’t fool them for long.”
Sam stood on the hidden platform. In one move, she closed the trapdoor and pulled the cardboard over the hatch.
“Time’s up,” the voice announced. A dozen footsteps sounded overhead. It didn’t take them long. “Search again,” somebody bellowed. “They have to be here.”
“The water is deep here,” Zenith whispered. “Don’t fall out unless you can swim.”
He clasped his hands in front of himself, his eyes wide.
Hexes and Handcuffs: A Limited Edition Collection of Supernatural Prison Stories Page 10
