I was so exhausted I didn’t see him coming.
Freeing that spirit took a lot out of me. It was like setting free someone tied up on a set of railroad tracks and you just heard the train whistle coming closer. The spells were tight – the spirit had wanted to be tied up at one point, so I had to undo the spirit’s own desire to stay. Once I got most of it free, it broke from the rest of the bonds, causing a ripple through the spirit world.
That, I knew, would be noticed.
I hi-tailed it out of there as fast as I could, bouncing back to my body like someone had thrown a twenty-pound medicine ball at me. I gasped, and the migraine that followed made the back of my eyes felt like they burst. It hurt, but I couldn’t relax.
I had no idea what time it was, but I knew I had to get back home. Now there was a gaping hole in that ley line, and some Guardian somewhere was going to have to plug it up. If they noticed like that last one did, of course. It was going to take them some time to do it.
Meanwhile, it flowed, like a broken levy, and I could feel it. Anyone with any magical inkling would be able to feel it easily.
So I tried to ignore it, and followed Wharf Street back to the common, and headed northwest. I heard the car screech and thought nothing of it. I next saw it come barreling my way.
I stopped short, looked around me. “Zephyr!” I yelled, and the west wind carried me directly up. The car hit my foot, but I cleared the roof. It screeched to a stop again, and I had the wind place me on the porch roof of a nearby house. The cardoors all opened and who came out of the rear passenger’s side but Brian.
“You son of a bitch!” he yelled.
“How did he get up there?”
The wind churned near me, flipping roof tiles as it did – Zephyr loved nothing more than a good fight. I didn’t know if I had enough power to control it if I summoned it—
No, I couldn’t think that way. I had to force it to my will. This spirit was summoned by me, and I controlled it.
“Don’t come any closer!” I yelled.
“Let’s see how you are against this!” He ducked back in the car and came back out. “Where’s the gun?”
“What the hell is going on out here?” someone yelled below me.
“Shut up old man!” Brian was in a fury. But a gun?
Someone handed him a pistol. I could see it in the light. “Protect me, Zephyr,” I said, and the wind surrounded me as I saw him aim at me. I heard nothing but the roar of the wind, and I ducked, hands over my head. I heard a crash behind me – the bullets were going every which way, but not at me.
“Home!” I yelled. “Bring me back home!” I pictured Dottie’s house, as opposed to anywhere else, and Zephyr picked me up.
Next thing I knew, I was thrown onto the front lawn, a good four streets down from where I had been. I ducked and rolled, and landed hard against the stone step of the front door. The wind continued to churn up the sod.
“Go, with my thanks, Zephyr.” Zephyr was a spirit that I always thanked afterward.
The spirit blew past me, ruffling my hair – playfully? – and then I heard a scream. I turned around and saw Dottie staring at me, her hand at her mouth.
I reached out my arms and saw that my hands were black. I stared at her, at Quintin standing behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Go ‘round back, Mike.”
“Mike? That’s Mike?”
Looks like I had some ‘splainin’ to do.
“You’re black.”
That was the only thing she kept coming back to after I explained everything.
“And your face.”
It did look like hell, the exposed white skin looking like someone had scratched my face from temple to jaw with four-inch thick claws.
She reached out and touched my face. I closed my eyes and let her. “Did it hurt?”
“At first, but no. It’s what I wanted.”
“You wanted this?”
Quintin said, almost disgustedly, “He’s young. He wants power, and wants it fast.”
“No, I don’t.”
Said Dottie quietly, “What do you want?”
“The world at my feet.”
I blurted it out before realizing what I was saying. Deep down, underneath it all, I wanted Max as mine, I wanted my mother back, I wanted the world on MY terms, not on anyone else’s. Not even God’s.
Sometimes, I still do.
They both looked at me.
I got up. “Well, I just sealed that deal, didn’t I?”
Quintin said nothing, watching me with a look that I wasn’t sure bordered on hate, fury, or at the very least disgust. I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t pleasant.
“Sit down, Mike, don’t leave.” This from Dottie. I couldn’t say no to Dottie, so I flopped back into the chair.
She reached over the table and took my hands. I felt no power in her, but I’m sure she felt it thrumming through me; the power of the ley line could be felt all the way over here, the summoning of the wind forced more energy through, I hadn’t grounded, and I felt like a live wire. She stared at me. She felt something, because she looked curious.
“What are you?”
“I’m human, just like you. I just have a daemon that guides me.”
“Look where that’s gotten you.” Quintin motioned. “You’ve probably put Dottie in danger, especially if those kids come back.”
She looked at Quintin. “Who are you?”
Quintin blinked.
Then she got up, scraping the chair away from the table. “Who…what…who…where…” Then she put both hands to her head and started screaming.
“Oh, my God,” Quintin said. “Dottie!”
She jerked away from him, still screaming.
“Call the ambulance.”
I was too frozen, watching her screaming and screaming, holding her head like something was battering her from the inside. Her eyes rolled back into her head and still she screamed.
I heard someone pounding on the door. The screaming got louder, higher, panicking. Quintin had flipped open his cellphone and was trying to call 911. He ran around her, screaming in the living room, and I think he opened the door.
I didn’t stick around to find out. I had no glamour belt, and it would take me time to make one. I had to hide. I dashed through the kitchen to a closet under the stairs. I had to pass within the field of view of the front door, but I had to take that chance.
I dashed down that hallway and threw open the door. I stepped in a bucket and tucked myself among the mop and broom, sucking in air – damn this bigger body, sometimes – and pulled the closet most of the way closed.
The closet was dark and smelled of cleaner. I felt above my head and brushed a chain. I grasped it and turned on the light. The naked bulb showed me that I was indeed among the mop, broom, and vacuum cleaner, and the shelf at my nose was stocked with Spic-n-Span. The inside of the closet didn’t have a door, so I shoved something so it stuck out of the closet in case someone wanted to slam it shut. Like Quintin.
The screaming hadn’t stopped, but it got hoarser and lower. What was happening? I thought I could hear her screaming “Don’t touch me!” I heard a crash, a few thumps, the screaming paused. “Damn, she’s strong,” said someone, and I wanted to run out to stop them from hurting her. But how would they react to a man in onyx and crimson streaking out of a closet, bellowing spells to throw them off her?
Finally, they stopped. “We have to bring her to North Shore,” they said. “We can’t keep her restrained like this.”
“I know. I’ll ride with you.”
“LEAVE ME ALONE! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! KILL THE DEMON!”
I put a hand to my mouth and looked at my black hand. Demon. I could pass for one, all I need are the horns.
Chapter 8
The room was dark when I came out of the closet. I could still see the flashing lights against the window, and every once in a while I heard her yelling “There’s a demon in my house!”
Eventually the siren went off and the flashing lights disappeared down the street. I waited a few minutes until the neighborhood calmed down. I crept around for a candle – it was easy enough to find – and something to write with. I preferred chalk, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I found in her junk drawer a black permanent magic marker, and took that.
Words: 1501
Inspiration: Hazy Shade of Winter by the Bangels