Storm Chaser: A Novel of The Black Pages

by Danny Bell

  It was time. I was using the full force of my abilities, and everything I felt from earlier was seeping back through the shell of my Urgency spell. And now, I was in a straight dash down Second Street toward my goal, the Angel City Brewery.

  It was an incredible landmark of the Downtown arts district, a massive hall where hundreds could easily gather to drink and celebrate. I wasn’t even much of a beer drinker, but good god did they have some phenomenal beers. Maybe it was just that I was drinking it from the source, I don’t know. Some things taste better when the special ingredient is love. The vibe was always welcoming, and I’d even seen an art showing or two there, where Logan of all people had displayed some of his work. It was the sort of place where that could happen. Art gallery one night, Bingo tourney the next; those people just liked to have fun with their space. There was even an old fireman’s slide in the middle, though, for insurance reasons, it was purely decorative. Some of the best food trucks in the city would be semi-permanent fixtures outside on the street, and I couldn’t think of a single time that I’d been there that I couldn’t find a comfortable seat where I wouldn’t be bothered.

  I was going to feel super shitty about wrecking the place.

  It was just ahead of me now. I could spy Ann on the roof acting as a lookout, though with this rain, I think if I hadn’t been looking for her, I doubted that I’d have been able to see her. She was supposed to wave if we were good to go, and with as close to being worn down as I was, I needed her to wave. And she wasn’t. But as I was looking up, I began to see something else, something I knew was possible but was hoping I could’ve avoided just a while longer.

  Snow.

  Not a light, crisp snow either. Not gently falling around me and definitely not the “Do You Want to Make a Snowman” type. This was an ugly, bleak flurry of snow that came at the ground sideways and in clumps. I had been so busy looking up that I almost hadn’t noticed the ice boy casually standing on the corner, making it happen. I also hadn’t noticed that the asphalt had been frozen to a hazardous sheet of ice beneath my feet. Heavy boots. Large coat. Moving twenty miles per hour on a bad foot, and I just planted my feet onto slick, frictionless ice.

  I didn’t stand a chance. I was going down hard.

  Chapter Thirty

  I tried to cast to a new Blister shield on instinct, something to cushion the immediate blow that was coming, but between the rain creating interference and my ruined concentration in general, it didn’t come out quite right. It was a stupid move. The makings of a shield, conflicting swirling energies, exploded into sparks as soon as they were created. The coat took most of the impact from the fall, but not enough, and it certainly didn’t save my ankle. I didn’t even have time to properly tuck and roll. My shoulder hit the ground first, and I lost my grip on the staff entirely. After that, it was anyone’s guess what happened, because I lost all sense of direction and I couldn’t breathe. Rolling wildly out of control, the whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of seconds, but it was a terrifying way to go down.

  When I finally stopped moving, it was my face that hurt most of all, though that was subject to change in the near future. It stung, which was its own special kind of pain; I’d probably be picking gravel out of it if I managed to survive the next few minutes. Standing wasn’t a gamble that I was ready to make just then. I made a desperate attempt to breathe and with some effort that turned into a violent choking cough.

  I couldn’t move. I could barely get air into my lungs, and that was painful enough, never mind what was coming. Sora had me.

  Get up, idiot!

  It was no use; this wasn’t even purely physical. It was magical. Part of the toll of my spell. I’d be returned my motion eventually, but for now? I was being left to wolves. Or the snake, if you wanted to get technical. Part of me wanted to cry at the helplessness I felt, but I quickly squashed that part of me. This wasn’t unfair; this was a consequence, and I had to take responsibility. Just a few seconds more, just a few seconds, and I’d be able to move again.

  Snow fell around me in clumps and, with a crunch that could’ve belonged to the packed snowdrift as easily as it could’ve my bones, I managed to turn over to see that my staff was just within my reach. As I reached out to it, however, someone else came into view. The ice guy from earlier, Sora, though now his skin had taken on a sheen that resembled blue scales, sauntered over and placed a boot on it, looking down at me with disdain.

  “Last time, a child saved you,” Sora accused.

  “That is… such a horseshit trope,” I rasped.

  He looked down at me with contempt, a hint of confusion creasing his brow. “The whole…stepping on my…staff deal,” I tried, hoping to get my wind back. “So cliché.”

  “Where is Yata no Kagami?” he asked impatiently.

  “Also a cliché,” I added, gesturing to him. “Bet the next thing is… you’re gonna kick me…for being a smartass.”

  A sharp blow connected with my stomach, drawing some alien language out of me that I didn’t know I was capable of, and sometimes I really don’t know why I keep talking.

  “Again,” Sora continued. “Where is it? Where is our treasure?”

  There was one solid reason to keep him talking, and that was in the hopes that my backup arrived sooner rather than later. I just hoped they made it before his backup arrived as well. He went to kick me again, and this time, I rolled just enough that my coat caught the brunt of the kick. I actually felt nothing that time but made pained noises all the same. Admittedly, it wasn’t hard since everything hurt, but he didn’t need to know he wasn’t doing anything extra. And that’s when I saw her, just a glimpse, but it was enough to make my heart soar.

  “All right!” I managed, looking at him. “Just please, stop kicking me!”

  Sora looked at me expectantly, and I locked his gaze. He just had to focus on me for a couple seconds more. “The treasure,” I began with a cough. “The real treasure…was inside you all along.”

  His face twisted with fury as I began to cackle with laughter involuntarily. It might’ve gotten me killed, but what an amazingly dumb joke to go out on. He reared back, ready to punt my head off my shoulders, when a whizzing sound split the air, followed instantly by a sickening wet puncture sound as he slammed into a parked car a good five feet away hard enough that its windows shattered. Shock and anger crossed his face as he looked down to see stainless-steel protruding from his gut, which passed into bewilderment when he realized that he was pinned. His hands gripped the arrow, only for another one to strike him. This time, his grip on the ice vanished and, instantly, the ice and snow reverted into water. Then another arrow. He howled. And another. This one shut him up.

  I looked back to see Chalsarda standing on top of a car, holding a bow that had to be as tall as she was and, as her cloak whipped back in the storm’s gale and lighting cracked behind her. Part of me really wished that she had timed it to look that awesome.

  “My hero,” I wheezed.

  Chalsarda ran over to me, scooping up my staff and handing it to me. “If he’s part of Yamata no Orochi, that won’t stop him for long. Can you stand?”

  “Good to see you too.” I smiled painfully as Chalsarda began to examine my head wound. “And no, I don’t think I can.”

  Chalsarda looked at my staff with something approaching disdain and said, “We’re going to talk about this later. For now, on your feet, soldier.”

  I had thought I’d made every painful grunt in my vocabulary until Chalsarda let go of me and I’d put the slightest amount of pressure on my ankle. She caught me before I could hit the ground for a second time tonight, but she looked increasingly concerned. “We can’t stay here.” The remark was more clinical than fearful. Chalsarda eased me to the ground and gingerly examined my leg. “Good news, it’s not broken. Hold still.”

  My friend seemed to produce a dart of some kind out of thin air and looked ready to stab me with it. “No, no, no! Wait a—”

  My mouth ope
ned to scream, but nothing came out as my entire body went rigid with the white-hot pain. It only lasted for a second before the pain in my ankle began to subside, but what a horrible second it was. “What the hell did you just hit me with?” I demanded.

  “I’d rather not worry you with that detail at this very moment,” my friend offered, hurrying me to my feet. “Try now.”

  I was beyond hesitant, so Chalsarda nudged the process forward by sweeping my staff just a few inches away from me, forcing the pressure onto my leg. It throbbed like hell, but I wasn’t crying. “Better?” she asked. Not waiting for a reply, added, “Let’s go.”

  My foot practically dragged behind me as I hobbled after Chalsarda toward the entrance to the brewery. It was swelling something fierce, my boot was tightening with each step, but at least it wasn’t accompanied by crippling pain. That was just coming from everywhere else. Every ache and strain I’d had earlier was back and had brought a few friends just for fun. My forehead stung where blood was welling and falling, and that kick to my stomach hadn’t done me any favors either; each step caused my abs to clench, and it was agony. I think the only thing keeping me up was the fact that, if I gave up at that point, we’d all wind up extremely dead.

  Somewhere, I felt the briefest instant of my simulacrum getting impaled before evaporating. It felt like heartburn.

  The way that spell worked was something I’d be thinking about for a very long time. A duplicate of me replaced me in terms of perception, at least for a few minutes. I went invisible; it kept moving. Or not. It basically had been given one command, in this case, that had been to become the Los Angeles County touch tag champion. If I focused, I could put my consciousness into it, I could control it, but I’d need to project my consciousness away from my physical body. It’s why I had been so lightheaded earlier. The downside was that when it hurt, I hurt. Thankfully, it was more or less made of aether, so any real damage to it and it was gone. The bigger question was how or even if Sora saw me. Falling might’ve made me lose my concentration long enough to become visible, but the timing of that ice felt too coincidental.

  It wasn’t far to the entrance of the brewery, but I was winded by the time I was out of the rain all the same. Sure enough, the place had been shuttered during the storm and evacuations, and someone had broken in. Probably some punk kids up to no good who thought they could save the city or something. The brewery could be effectively sectioned off into two public areas, the far side being a stage area with cafeteria-style tables for enjoying stand up or local bands. The other area was more expansive, with massive brewing vats that reached the high vaulted ceilings, an upstairs area with couches and chairs, a sprawling bar and various nooks and hideaways for drinking and conversing. An open floor plan with lots of places to hide. That second area was what had been broken into, and it was where we needed to be.

  Water came off of me in a steady pour, my jacket was soaked, and it was all I could do to not fall into the puddle I was making. “Hey, seriously, glad you’re alive,” I managed as we got inside.

  “For as long as that lasts, I’m certainly glad to see you alive as well,” Chalsarda replied tersely. “Though, perhaps we can save the pleasantries for when we’re not fighting for our lives?”

  “Stay alive, I like it, solid plan.” I panted. “You have Ann on the radio?”

  Chalsarda wordlessly tossed me a small walkie-talkie as she set her bow down and retrieved one that was considerably smaller. I awkwardly caught it with one hand, cradling it uncomfortably into my chest so I didn’t drop it, and when I recovered enough, I clicked it on. “Hey, is this the dumbest plan ever yet or not?” I asked, noticing Chalsarda had slipped away during that brief distraction.

  There was a hiss of static before Ann replied, “Dude, this began as the dumbest plan, but aren’t you supposed to say over?”

  I considered for a fraction of a second how little I gave a shit about walkie-talkie etiquette before I came back with, “What are you seeing out there?”

  “Well, that ice jerk from Venice just kinda left,” Ann began. “Now I’m just sort of getting wet and waiting for them to come back.”

  “They’re regrouping,” I confirmed. “Look, I’m serious, when they come back you let us know, and you get the hell away from here. You’ve done more than enough, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Besides, if we don’t make it, there’s certain things that only you’ll be able to do, you know?”

  “I know,” Ann came back. She held the receiver down on her end an extra moment, then finally added, “I hope this works.”

  Careful what you wish for.

  I’d just stuffed the walkie-talkie when Chalsarda reappeared from the back. “Did you check in with Olivia? Any word?”

  Chalsarda nodded and replied, “Yes, two words to be precise. ‘Stop talking.’”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s focused. That’s good, right? Do you think we can pull this off?”

  “Truly?” Chalsarda raised an eyebrow. “We can’t worry about that now, my friend. Whether we succeed or fail is almost irrelevant. We’re here, that’s what matters. Though I’d hate to have survived the week I just had only to die in an alehouse.”

  I nodded. “We’ll have to compare notes later, in the meantime, I need something to write with. Or scratch with. You got anything?”

  “You mean my adamantine?” Chalsarda asked with a grimace.

  “Yeah, I know, I hate to ask,” I said ruefully. “But I need the best right now, and it may keep us alive an extra five minutes. Or maybe two minutes. Or maybe—”

  “Here,” Chalsarda said impatiently with something like betrayal in her voice. Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have asked, but honestly, I didn’t know what her deal was tonight, and I felt badly that I didn’t have time to figure it out.

  I took it with a gracious nod and added, “I’ll give it right back, I promise.”

  I enlisted Chalsarda’s aid in moving chairs to get better elevation on where I could inscribe my wards and used the staff as a focus when casting magic into them. It was hard to believe that, not so long ago, I had trouble completing even one, and now with the help of the staff, I was nearing a dozen, and if not for time and available space to safely create them, I could’ve kept going.

  I started etching into the metal above the primary entranceway where a gate would typically have rolled up. It had been removed entirely, but the bar above the threshold made for a prime spot to leave a surprise. I got a few around the various windows in case anyone had thoughts about forcing their way in, and then, dead center of the room, I made one massive ward that would be all but impossible to ignore, loaded with magic upon magic upon magic. I knew the dangers of doing that firsthand, but that one was meant to be dangerous. All the same, it wasn’t the most dangerous ward I’d placed, not by a long shot. That honor would go to the last one, and I loaded it up with the most offensive spell in the staff. I immediately got shivers thinking about it going off, but in some sick way, I was more excited than anything. I was relying on the homefield advantage and the fact that they were still overlooking me. I couldn’t have put up a tenth of these wards last week without the rod, and my staff taught me a few spells that had opened a whole lot of new doors for me, magically speaking. I intended to use every single new trick, every last ounce of power, if it meant saving this city. One way or another, this was going to be a short fight.

  When I was done, this poor place was a minefield. And it hadn’t even done anything to me. I’d apologize later.

  Chalsarda and I made our way to the stairs in the back, where I could finally take a breather. My back slid down the wall at a controlled pace as I braced myself with the staff, trying my best not to go down in a heap. I was exhausted, but in the way where you’re halfway through a hike that you definitely weren’t ready for. One that you’d been convinced to undertake because people more athletic than you, better looking than you, and way, way, more enthusiastic than you convinced you it was a good idea. And now, in the middl
e of it, stopping wasn’t an option for a lot of reasons. Not just that you didn’t want to ruin anyone’s good time, but because hesitation was more dangerous than pushing through. Those people are convinced you’ll be proud of yourself at the end of it, and that the views will be worth the frightening level of exhaustion. Those people aren’t invited to your next birthday party.

  I was worn out, but I wasn’t allowing myself to be. Instead, I tried my hand at conversation. “That should be enough to kill anything,” I remarked, gesturing to the main hall with the tip of my staff.

  “It’s not enough.” Chalsarda shook her head. “But it’s something.”

  “Hey, for real,” I hazarded. “What’s on your mind? This isn’t just normal focused you. You doing okay?”

  Chalsarda was silent for a moment, and I didn’t press. “It’s the Wizard staff,” she said suddenly.

  “Why is it bothering you?”

  “It is not the staff inherently, it is…” she trailed off, finding her words. “It is that you have done a lot of stupid things in your short time alive, and while I understand the reasons why you felt you had to—”

  “I wasn’t ready,” I completed for her. “Except I was. Here I am.”

  Chalsarda spit aggressively, something I couldn’t recall her doing before. It startled me. “Is that what it means?”

  I didn’t respond at first, I didn’t even want to meet her gaze. “I had another way out,” I said softly.

  “And you didn’t take it?” Chalsarda nearly exploded.

  “Abarta,” I said flatly. “He’s in our world now. He visited the shop. He was on the verge of violence, or maybe he just wanted to make everyone think that he was, I don’t know. But he offered to make everything go away.”