Fractured Souls

by E. A. Copen

  I stormed over to him, jerked the plastic bag away and overturned it. Two packs of Marlboros tumbled to the cement floor along with a brand new lighter. I picked up the lighter and held it to the corner of each container until it lit up.

  “What the hell are you doing, woman?” Josiah tore out of the makeshift bedroom, still pulling on his pants, and rushed to try to stomp out the fire.

  I stepped back and tossed the lighter in between the rusty tracks. “Smoke on that, asshole.”

  “Vindictive bitch!” Josiah picked up the surviving pack and dusted away some ash.

  Reggie frowned. “Did I miss something?”

  “No!” Both of us snapped at once.

  “Uh...You’re bleeding.” Reggie pointed to my face.

  I touched the skin under my nose and it came away red. Heavy blood tears trailed down my cheeks and nausea struck. God dammit! Not again. I ran for the bucket that served as his toilet and vomited blood until nothing else would come up.

  Reggie shrugged and put the box of doughnuts down on a long sheet of plywood suspended between two crates. A makeshift table. He unbuckled the baldric and placed both weapons on the table. “I brought what you asked for. I didn’t think I had one, but you were in luck, it seems.”

  “Swords?” Josiah scoffed and held a water bottle out to me. “What’d you need those for?”

  “Not technically a sword.” I spat and took the water to clean out my mouth and wash my face. That done, I shoved the empty bottle back at him and paced to the makeshift table. My stomach was still upset, but it would settle itself once I got my mind on something else. I closed my fingers over the grip of one weapon.

  Nineteen and a half inches of smooth, sharpened steel whispered free of the wooden scabbard. The flat side sloped into a gentle curve about two inches in, drawing to a harsh point. The blade itself held much more of a full-bodied curve almost like a machete but with the added benefit of a guard that would keep my fingers safe. Longer than a traditional knife and too short to be a sword by most accounts, they were technically classified as bolo knives. The correct term was talibong, and they were weapons native to The Philippines. Adapted during the Spanish occupation from a farming tool used to clear grass into a deadly weapon for filleting humans like meat. The shape lent itself toward chopping rather than stabbing, but it would do in either case.

  I drew the blade over the inside of my arm, letting the blood awaken the spell buzzing inside the blade. Fire sparked, racing down the edge, hungry to devour every trace of life. “This,” I said, holding the flaming knife up for them to see, “is Amihan. That one’s Perlas. They’re going to rip that fae bitch apart.”

  Josiah and Reggie exchanged a terrified glance.

  “Right then,” Josiah said, clearing his throat. “Any luck with those maps, Reggie?”

  The troll shook his head. “Can’t find anything. It can’t be a circle because anything that wide would run into—”

  “The salt water, yeah.” Josiah put a cigarette in his mouth and patted himself down, looking for a lighter. When he didn’t find one, he scowled at me and snapped his fingers to call up a blue flame to light it instead. “Hold on. What’s that?” He pointed to the news report in the corner of Reggie’s screen.

  “Just the weather. They’ve been going on about it since Tuesday. They’d been calling for a light dusting of snow until then, then suddenly it swelled into the Snowpocalypse. They even gave the storm a name.”

  “Artemisia,” Josiah whispered.

  Reggie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “It was the name of one of those rock bands out of Europe that me and Danny used to like. Lots of screaming. Occult symbolism. Aside from the magic, it was about the only thing we ever had in common. Would’ve been easy for someone with his power and influence to name it. Bastard probably couldn’t resist.”

  I lowered Amihan. “It’s a love letter.”

  “It’s a bloody cry for help is what it is.” Josiah shook his head. “Danny’s off his nut. Turn it up, would you?”

  Reggie expanded the news coverage to fill all the screens and turned up the volume.

  The meteorologist, a heavyset man in a suit, paced, all smiles in front of a map with cartoon clouds. “...A rather chilly morning out there, especially this time of year, but at least the snow is dying down. Winter storm Artemisia, in a pattern fairly atypical among nor’easters, sat on all five boroughs for about twelve hours, just dumping snow. Nine inches in The Bronx, eight in Queens and Brooklyn, six in Staten Island with Manhattan taking the most at twelve. Oddly enough, not much going on outside the city. Artemisia seems to have worn herself out hitting us, but good news. Sunshine is on its way, just in time for the Macy’s Parade, so bundle up and get out there and enjoy the show.”

  Josiah removed the bent cigarette from his lips. “Christ. It’s not a circle. It’s the snow! He’s working with that Winter bitch. The snow’s the catalyst for the magic. All he has to do is provide the spark and this city is fucked.”

  That was bad. A circle we might’ve been able to deal with, break it apart or just dump enough salt in the right place to render it useless. But the snow was everywhere, and it was too cold to melt it. There was no way we could move thousands of tons of snow out of the city either.

  I stepped up behind Reggie. “How do we stop him then?”

  Even as I asked, I knew there was only one way to end this. The way Josiah feared most.

  Josiah stared at the screen, his face a mask of memory. “I have to kill him.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  JOSIAH

  WE PREPARED TO SURFACE in silence. Khaleda practiced with her new toys while I doused myself in Reggie’s makeshift shower. He let me borrow a shirt from his collection, a white button down with an anti-stain spell woven into it. It was a size too big, but it fit better than anything from his closet would’ve.

  Milly found us about the time it would’ve been dawn above. I scooped her up before Khaleda could see and carried her to a corner for a little advice. “I can’t beat him,” I whispered. “He’s better than me.”

  She sank into my hand, exhausted. Even with all that skill, he’s still just a human. His body is still mortal. Stab him. Shoot him. Take your pick.

  I tried to imagine stabbing Danny and couldn’t. “He’ll want to fight with magic.”

  Of course he will, Milly said, cleaning her fangs. That’s where he’s strongest. And he knows most of the spells you do. He’ll have studied you. That’s probably what the rooftop exchange was. He wanted to see how good you were after all that time.

  “Even if I can get inside his defenses, I don’t know if I can do it.”

  Why not? You seem healed and capable.

  I sighed. “It’s not a question of being capable. It’s...” How could I make a spider understand? If Milly ever decided to mate, the poor male stood to lose his head if he didn’t get away quick enough. They didn’t form the types of bonds primates did. “Danny was my friend once.”

  I see. It would cause you emotional pain to hurt him. Milly perked up and crawled forward in my palm. Which thing do you want more? To save your friend or to save ten million people?

  My heart dropped into my stomach. “Danny can’t be saved.”

  Then the choice is simple. Kill your friend.

  I tried to swallow the lump growing in my throat. “Milly, the thing is, Danny’s more than a friend. Or was. I... It’s like watching Evette die again, except I get to play the part of Christian this time. I have to kill the person I—” I stopped myself before I could say it out loud. In eighteen years, I’d never said it aloud. Not even when we were together. I’d never told him. It didn’t seem fair to tell Milly and not Danny.

  I shook my head. “Never mind. Is there a way to neutralize the snow? In case I fail?”

  Well, if you had enough power, you could warm part of the city enough to melt some of the snow, but it wouldn’t be enough to save everyone. Your best bet would be ra
in.

  “Rain?”

  That’s what I said. Pull rain from the lower atmosphere. Make it fall fast enough and you’ll create enough friction to keep it from freezing until it hits the ground. Make enough of it, and it’ll be just warm enough to melt the snow into ice. What it doesn’t melt, it will disrupt. This close to the ocean, there might be enough salt water in the atmosphere to drown it completely.

  “Vinè.” I snapped my fingers.

  I sensed Milly didn’t approve of my choice even before she spoke. He’s a serious contender for the Devil mantle, Josiah. Are you sure you want to draw his attention and force him into service?

  I shrugged. “D’ya know of any other powerful storm demons, Milly? What’s the summoning? Walk me through it.”

  The summoning she described was terrifyingly simple. Most were. Your average kitchen witch could call up an earl of hell with a kitchen knife and a trip to the pet store. Unfortunately, the bigger the demon you called on, the more blood they wanted. A few rats wouldn’t be sufficient for Vinè. I needed a living human.

  As the plan began to form itself in my mind, I realized Khaleda was right about me. I was an utter bastard who didn’t deserve to draw breath. Despicable as I was, I looked for another option and came up empty. Sometimes the only way to save the world was to be the bad guy.

  Once I decided on a course of action, I went to Reggie at his computer station.

  “Any idea where he’ll be?” Reggie asked.

  I studied the street map on the monitors. Let’s see. If I were a maniac on a power trip, where would I go to murder a whole city of innocent people? It could be anywhere. In a city the size of New York, the possibilities were endless. Snowfall in Manhattan was heaviest, and Manhattan would be where the parade went through. He wouldn’t pick a place on the parade route though because it’d be heavily patrolled by police. Knowing Danny, he’d go for a rooftop, as high up as he could go. Somewhere with access to lots of people.

  “What’s the tallest residential skyscraper in Manhattan, Reggie?”

  He tapped a few keys and brought up search results. “432 Park Avenue.”

  “He’ll be there on the rooftop.” I tapped the screen only to have Reggie push my hand away.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  I shrugged. “Danny likes to be high up, it’s out of the way of the parade route, and lots of ready souls just below him.” I turned to Khaleda. “We can expect the God Squad to make an appearance. Danny needs a higher life form sacrifice. I think he’s gearing up to kill an angel.”

  She swiped through the air with her knife. Sword. Whatever. “Can he do that?”

  “We have to presume so.” All I’d heard through Milly on her walkabout seemed to suggest that was his plan, though I didn’t know how he’d do it. Only a handful of things in existence—outside of someone like me—could kill an angel. I could do it. One of the advantages of being half-angel myself, and probably why they didn’t want me to live. Danny, however, didn’t stand a chance. Once he acted directly against God’s Hand, they’d be free to defend themselves. The contract of neutrality would be broken, and they’d smite the hell out of him.

  I watched Khaleda move the blades, weaving them flawlessly through the air as if they were extensions of her body. “Noelle will be protecting Danny. I’ll need you to keep her busy while I deal with him. You don’t have to kill her, but that would be a plus.”

  “For once, we agree.” She took a step back and repeated the drill.

  “Noelle has two full-length broadswords, Princess. What’re you going to do with those little knives against that?”

  Steel flashed, faster than I could track. “She can’t hold two swords if she’s only got one hand.” A spin, a kick. “And she can’t stand on broken legs. All I have to do is get inside her reach and bleed her if nothing else. These are iron. She’s fae. You see, Josiah, it’s true what they say. It’s not the size of the tool. It’s how you use it.” She winked at me.

  My heart was somehow convinced I was in the middle of running a marathon. “Size and skill can go hand in hand, you know.”

  “Give it a rest, you two,” Reggie said spinning around in his chair. “If you leave now, you should be able to get there early enough. Subway will be crowded headed into Manhattan.”

  He was right, but I didn’t want to go. Going meant it was real, unavoidable. Though it was already inescapable. Danny and I had been on a collision path for eighteen years. In a sense, he was a monster I had made.

  I should’ve run away with him when I had the chance. How would our lives be different now if I had? Could we have been happy? Maybe at least one of us could have been. No sense in focusing on what could’ve been.

  “Get your coat.” I tapped the back of Reggie’s chair so he’d know I was talking to him.

  “Me?” His rocky nose twitched. “Why? I’m not a fighter.”

  “There’s something I need you to do while I’m taking care of this. An errand I need ran by someone who knows how to get around unnoticed. Think you can do that, Reggie?”

  He glanced at Khaleda, a worry line appearing on his forehead.

  I spread my arms wide. “C’mon, Reg. It’ll be easy, and the whole city will owe you.”

  “Okay.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “What do you need?”

  TWENTY-SIX

  JOSIAH

  THE SUBWAY TRAIN RATTLED by in the dark, grim faces flashing by in an instant, each one a life with hopes, fears, dreams, and love. Their faces existed in my life a moment, less than a fraction of a second, before the tunnel swallowed them. Brakes screamed. Steam rose from the tracks like ghosts. All around us, bodies shifted. A wave of red-eyed families surged toward the train. Children, excited at the prospect of the parade and a holiday meal, pulled on tired hands. Strollers folded. Anxious parents grasped tiny hands and held tight.

  I flowed into the subway train with the New Yorkers, a single cell transitioning from tissue into the fast-moving bloodstream. We weren’t supposed to be there. This city wasn’t ours. The two of us, we were foreign invaders, antibodies sent to search and destroy an even worse disease.

  The car dinged, announcing the imminent closing of the doors. More people pressed in at the last second, displacing breathable air. Everything felt stilted, stale. Every breath was stolen. Or maybe that’s just the need for another cigarette squeezing my lungs.

  I closed my hand around the cold metal pole and braced for the sudden jerk forward, but it didn’t come. The train moved, but the acceleration was slow and smooth. Nothing about the day felt right.

  My skin prickled, warning that I was being watched. I turned my head and met the disapproving stare of an elderly woman in her seat. She stared at me a second before giving Khaleda a longer, more worrisome look. It was as if she could sense how much we didn’t belong. We could dress like them, move like them, even adjust our manner of speaking, but we would never be part of them. It wasn’t just the city either. It was humanity. Half-human wasn’t human enough.

  Khaleda’s hand shifted up, bumping against mine. More people were staring at her than me. While I looked vaguely threatening, she was beautiful and dangerous. The promise of violence surrounded her like an aura. Gone was the broken, half-drunken succubus from just a few days ago. She died with Victis. Now, she was a vicious killer, a living weapon with a target. I didn’t fully understand the transformation she’d undergone, or what it was that had changed her, but I was glad to see it.

  Pain pinched my chest as I realized that meant our time together was almost at an end. Once I completed this job, Decimus would get me her papers and she’d be free to go where she pleased. She wouldn’t need me anymore. I’d be alone again.

  Good riddance, I forced myself to say. I’ve been working alone for eighteen years. No need to change that now. Besides, she complicates everything. All of this would’ve been easier if I didn’t have her to worry about.

  She caught me looking at her and narrowed her eyes into a warning gl
are.

  I smirked and winked at her. I would miss our verbal sparring matches.

  Since it was a holiday, the subway ran on a modified schedule. That meant less frequent stops and bigger crowds. The city had issued something called a gridlock travel advisory, which I took to mean the roads were impassably crowded. With the heavy snowfall discouraging travel the previous two days, an unprecedented number of people were out and about. Cabin fever, they called it. The parade would be more of a welcome escape than normal for the weary people of New York who’d been cooped up in their apartments for two days.

  We shuffled from one train to the next in silence like the rest of them. The more changes we went through, the more crowded the trains became until we got off in Manhattan. Most passengers would go on, getting as close as they could to Central Park before disembarking. Several stations in midtown were apparently closed due to parade preparations, so they’d go on foot, herded by police and signs.

  Our ideal stop would’ve been on 57th, but that line was closed, so we wound up going all the way to 59th Street, putting us about half a kilometer from our destination. We came up from the subway station onto a street lined with luxury fashion and beauty shops. Throngs of people crowded the sidewalk at the crossing, waiting for the light to change. Breath pooled in a white halo above their heads. Laughter cut through the cold air, sharp and stilted, falling into a sudden stop as the light changed and people surged forward.

  Khaleda and I crossed the other way, moving away from the crowd.

  I stopped on the other side of the street to light one last cigarette. Once I went into the apartment building, there’d be no more, not unless I was lucky enough to walk away from this one. Khaleda waited, eyes, scanning the street and all the faces that passed us by.

  My lighter made a cold, metallic click as I flipped the top closed. “You know, you don’t have to go.”