Taken By Storm (5 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Having Evis with me does provide a small outlet for the growing maelstrom of anxiety and rage in me. Just before dawn, fifty miles from home, he points off the side of the road.

"Jeeling," he says so nonchalantly I almost just nod and keep driving.

"Jeeling?" I hit the brakes and stop the car on the shoulder, pulling off into the browning grass.
 

This is just what I need, and I'm not being sarcastic. My blood feels pressurized, my muscles like taut rubber bands about to snap. I gear myself up while Evis gears himself down, doffing his gym shorts and tank top and tossing them in the trunk.

I can see the excitement in his eyes echoing mine, smell the anticipation he's exuding.
 

This is the first time we've fought side by side, and his eagerness is contagious.

I let him lead, since he's the one who saw the demon. The sky is still dark, but the eastern sky to our right already lightens with the coming of the sun.
 

"We have to hurry before it dives into a hellshole." I meet Evis's eyes, and he grins at me.
 

We even have the same teeth. It's unnerving.

"Can you keep up?" he asks.

"We're about to find out."
 

He takes off running, and I follow.
 

A month ago, he'd outpace me in seconds. He's faster, but barely. I can almost keep pace with him. Something thrills in me to run like this, the air whipping by my face. I've always been a fine runner, but this is exhilarating.
 

I see the pink glow through the trees, too big to be just one jeeling.

Three months ago, that would have filled me with terror. Now? My grin matches my brother's.

This is what I was made for.

The jeelings hear us coming, and a grating screech fills the air. I almost hope they're calling their friends.

We explode out of the underbrush, and my swords fly free of their sheathes.
 

The jeelings aren't alone. At least eight slummoths surround them, with dumpy little harkasts behind them. The jeelings glow, pulsing pink and dripping slime, though the slummoths are the real slime factories.
 

A high pitched keen rises in the clearing, and I spin, catching a speeding blitz demon on the point of my saber before it can hit me. Fast as their names imply, if they were any less stupid or could manage not to announce their presence, they'd be a real danger. I decapitate the blitz, then slice it right across the buttocks where it keeps its heart.
 

I know. Demon physiology. Required reading for all Mediators.

Its legs flail on the ground, suddenly splattered with slummoth slime from a demon Evis has just ripped in half.
 

I launch myself over the blitz's corpse and take out two slummoths at once, clearing a path to the first of the jeelings. By now, I know how to take them down.

One more slummoth comes at me, snarling and spitting and spattering my leathers with goo. I send its head flying off its shoulders, where it clocks the jeeling in the chest before dropping to the ground.
 

My left hand flicks out and slices the jeeling's groin, severing its right femoral artery. It screams with rage and pain, but I dance back, circling around and darting back in to hamstring it. Evis has its partner distracted, and the jeeling he's fighting is missing four fingers already. He's playing with it.

My jeeling falls to its knees, slashing at me with an arm that would have caught me across the chest a few weeks ago. Now I evade the claws and take the jeeling's head off. Spinning through the remaining two slummoths
 
— Evis seems to have put his foot through all four harkast heads — I meet my brother's eyes.

We move as one. He grabs hold of the jeeling's arms as if they're dancing, spinning the eleven foot demon's back in my direction.
 

I stab it through the base of its spine, and it collapses. Evis grabs it by the head and yanks.

Three Mediators step out from behind a copse of oak saplings.

"Evis!"
 

He darts behind me, and I meet the eyes of the woman who steps into the now-corpse littered patch of forest. There's a small buzz I hear behind her, and over her shoulder, one of the two men with her has just activated an Oh Shit Beacon on the tree trunk. More Mediators will be coming.
 

I don't know how far away they are, but suddenly there's a ticking sound in my head I can't escape.

Surely these people have to realize that if we can take down this many demons, three Mediators are less than a threat, but…the two behind her have flamethrowers, and I left Lucy at home.

"So it's true. You became one of them." Her voice is deep and scratchy, like she's got laryngitis or has smoked four packs a day for the past half century. Which, since she looks about forty, would mean she started in her crib at the Mittens compound.

"I'm still a Mediator," I say, knowing it's not true on a technical level or even on a physical one. "Or at least I cleaned up your territory for you. You're welcome."

She looks around, and I see a moment of wariness flicker across her face, gone in an instant.
 

"You could have had any number of reasons for wanting those demons dead."

I want to roll my eyes, but I resist. "The simplest explanation is usually the right one. They're still the enemy."

"So are you, now."

"The longer you all treat me like one, the more likely I am to actually become one." I don't know what makes me say it, but one of the men behind her blanches.
 

At least he seems to grasp the meaning of the slew of bodies Evis and I are responsible for.
 

"We have a common goal," I say. It's useless, and I know it. But I have to try. Again.
 

The woman sneers. "If you're protecting that, we have nothing in common."

I feel a thrum of fear go through Evis, and it has nothing to do with her calling him a that.
 

His fear smells like wet metal. When he murmurs, it's pitched low enough that the Mediators can't hear him. "More coming."

"Which direction?" I ask, aware that the Mediators can see our lips moving even if no sound reaches them.

"East."

The car is south.
 

"It's been nice chatting with you," I tell the trio of Mediators.
 

"You're not going anywhere," one of the men says. "We're under orders to hunt down every gods damned shade in Kentucky."

"Cute," I say. "Good to know the local Summits are ignoring the dictates from the World Summit."
 

I flick my finger in the direction of the car and don't wait any longer.

Evis and I take off running.
 

Behind us, I can hear an angry shout, but it fades in the distance with our speed. Sure enough, to the east there's crashing through the underbrush, but Evis and I outpace it.
 

We reach the car, and I don't bother to worry about getting slummoth goo on anything. I throw my swords in the back seat, stabbing the seat cover by accident. I crank the ignition and hit the gas.
 

We're long gone before any of the Mediators reach the road, but they know we're still in Kentucky now.
 

The fifty mile drive home feels longer than the past day we spent crossing state lines.

It's Carrick's idea to ward the cabin.
 

He seems to realize something went wrong, because the moment we pull in, he's waiting for us outside, giant book in hand, a worried expression on his face.

He's taken a lot of time studying the book of magic my tattoo came from, and I couldn't be more thankful. I'm not a witch, but he seems to be able to tap into enough energy to make a warding spell work, so I don't question him when he says he can pull it off.

Evis and I hose each other down outside while Carrick surveys the boundaries for the spell, the brisk forty degree morning making me more uncomfortable than it does either of them. I run dripping into the house, aiming straight for the bathroom and a hot shower, even if it has to be a quick one. My skin itches where slummoth goo dried on it in the time it took us to get home, and I scrub at it with a loofah. Once clean, I bundle myself in a pair of jeans and a heavy grey sweater and meet Carrick outside. He's dressed in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and even I have to admit he looks hot.

Go figure that I see these men naked all the time, and it's putting clothes on one of them that makes me think he looks sexy.
 

He gives me an amused look, as if he knows what I'm thinking. Thankfully, he doesn't poke me about it.

"I don't have the ingredients I need," he says instead. "But there's a magic shop in Lexington that should have them all."

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"Used the internet on your phone while you were in the shower."

"My data overage is going to be huge." It's a stupid enough complaint in light of everything that Carrick even cracks a smile. Witches have figured out green fuel, advanced security systems, sustainable farming — yet somehow they haven't figured out nationwide wifi yet.
 

I reckon you can't have everything.

"Want me to go with you?"
 

Carrick shakes his head. "Most people don't know who I am yet. You're easy to spot. You should dye your hair."

My nose wrinkles at the word
dye
. "Wouldn't help," I say.
 

Jax is up on the cabin roof, tightroping across the ridgepole. I look up at him, and he waves.

I've got an idea. "While you're in Lexington, mind picking something up for me?"

The morning passes quietly except for the light thumps of Jax's feet on the roof while I'm trying to nap. I wake up ravenous and eat an entire frozen pizza while Evis lies on the sofa reading.

Carrick returns around three, carrying two large bags. One's from the magic shop, and I can smell the twelve types of herbs from the kitchen. The other smells of cardboard and plastic and metal, and I smile.
 

"Jax!" I bellow. He's around somewhere, even if I haven't heard him thumping about in a while.

He appears after a beat, coming through the back door. "What?"

"I got you something. Might help with the boredom." I motion at the second bag.

He opens it, Evis coming up behind him to peek over his shoulder.
 

"It's for all of us, but I figure you're the most antsy right now."

Jax pulls an Xbox One from the bag and turns it over in his hands. Evis rummages through the bag, removing the extra controllers and the stack of games I had Carrick get. It's a mix of shooters and RPGs, and if nothing else, it should keep the deer in the area from going extinct.

Jax looks dubious, but he and Evis take the pile of tech over to the television and painstakingly lay it out in front, opening the box as if it might bite them.

I turn to Carrick. "What exactly does this spell do?"

He motions to me, and I follow to the kitchen. "It's not as good as a full witch could do, but it should help. There are three rings, like a target. The first is an aversion spell. It should turn back most people from bothering us unless they're invited."

"So you're saying the pizza delivery guy can still come."

Carrick raises an eyebrow at me.

"Priorities," I say.

He ignores me. "The second is an early warning signal. It should sound like a large bell, and it will let us know if someone passed the first circle's edge into the second. The final one is a revulsion spell. If they get past the aversion as far as the inner circle, they'll be struck with revulsion and frustration and a sense of total futility. It should at least give them pause enough for us to find out who they are and what to do with them."

What to do with them.
 

Carrick meets my eyes, and I know we understand each other.
 

If it's Mediators who come our way looking for a fight, it's only a matter of time before one of them gets dead.

I'll put it off as long as I can, but I'm thinking today's little outing might be my last for a while. It showed my strength too much, and the last thing we need here is the entire Lexington Summit showing up for good measure. Four of us, a couple hundred of them — even I don't like those odds.