pastiche of fragments, like a small pond raked by a hard wind. The scrying was ruined, my own lack of discipline to blame. I swore softly and lifted the phone to my ear.
“Carlie?” It was a male whisper, barely audible. It was also familiar, but so soft I strained to hear.
I found myself whispering back. “Who is this?”
There was a long pause, and a rush of breathing. It was fearful, and I grew cold listening to it. “It’s Brendan.” Again, a long pause. I heard the smallest noise of footsteps on hard wood, then nothing. “I have a stupid question to ask you. Wait a minute, don’t answer.” The footsteps came again, heels thumping lightly across wood, then faded again.
“Brendan, you’re scaring me. What is it?” I did not have time to wait if he was in danger.
“Umm, are you on my back porch, dressed up like a . . . well, in a black dress and boots?” He paused again, and his breathing quickened once more. The footsteps returned, then faded, but this time more slowly.
My blood went to ice. “Brendan, listen to me very carefully. Take your phone, and go into your cellar as quietly as you can.” He lived two blocks from me, and I was already on the move. “Do not open your door until I tell you a safe word, do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Umm, what’s the safe word?”
“You know that place I was looking for? Don’t say it out loud. That’s the word,” I said as I gained speed. I was barefoot and running at full tilt now, my feet barely touching the pavement. I could see his house as he said yes and we hung up.
I ran in a soundless fury after casting a spell of silence on my body. My legs are short, but anger pushed me into a streaking rush until I pulled up three houses from Brendan’s tidy bungalow, letting my breathing normalize with a few great drafts of the cool night air. A single sodium light burned overhead one house down from my position next to a looming clump of birch trees.
I glared at the light, then muttered, “Mall scáth.”
A nebulous shadow crept over the streetlight, and the area began to dim gradually. It wouldn’t due to merely cause the lamp to explode; I wanted some degree of surprise for who or whatever was lurking on Brendan’s porch. I was barefoot, and my soles tingled from the run across gravel and pavement, but I pushed the discomfort from my mind and opened my senses to the scene before me.
I heard it first. A low, short creak of the boards on the side porch gave away something moving with incredible delicacy, and my eyes zeroed in on a dark patch that seemed to flow from one window to the next. It was looking for a way in. A quiet way, I decided, and my witchmark began to flood my neck with a heat that could only mean danger. I flicked both hands outward, fingers spread, and spells at the ready. I knew nothing, except that Brendan was in danger, and I was still unseen.
Good enough for me , I thought, and began running across the dew-slicked lawn with both hands held before me. As my feet hit the smooth wood of the porch, the woman turned, her eyes a seething red in a face of inhumanly blank whiteness.
“Wrong house, love.” I released the bolt of sunlight dead into the creature’s chest, blasting her backward with the force of an oncoming truck. I’m not big, but I hit hard.
She skidded across the boards before crashing headfirst into the decorative spindles, shattering four of them with her skull in a spectacular spray of wood chips and blue light. Without stopping, I shouted a cantrip of cold to slow whatever she might be, but not fast enough. Before my second spell hit, I knew she was not human. Her feet hit the porch, and I took a horrendous punch in my stomach, sending white stars flickering across my vision like I was in a vintage cartoon. I heard a hiss and mumble of something in a tongue even I didn’t recognize, and felt my eyes clear just as the second blow caught me clean in the neck.
Big mistake. The creature’s hand
“Carlie?” It was a male whisper, barely audible. It was also familiar, but so soft I strained to hear.
I found myself whispering back. “Who is this?”
There was a long pause, and a rush of breathing. It was fearful, and I grew cold listening to it. “It’s Brendan.” Again, a long pause. I heard the smallest noise of footsteps on hard wood, then nothing. “I have a stupid question to ask you. Wait a minute, don’t answer.” The footsteps came again, heels thumping lightly across wood, then faded again.
“Brendan, you’re scaring me. What is it?” I did not have time to wait if he was in danger.
“Umm, are you on my back porch, dressed up like a . . . well, in a black dress and boots?” He paused again, and his breathing quickened once more. The footsteps returned, then faded, but this time more slowly.
My blood went to ice. “Brendan, listen to me very carefully. Take your phone, and go into your cellar as quietly as you can.” He lived two blocks from me, and I was already on the move. “Do not open your door until I tell you a safe word, do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “Umm, what’s the safe word?”
“You know that place I was looking for? Don’t say it out loud. That’s the word,” I said as I gained speed. I was barefoot and running at full tilt now, my feet barely touching the pavement. I could see his house as he said yes and we hung up.
I ran in a soundless fury after casting a spell of silence on my body. My legs are short, but anger pushed me into a streaking rush until I pulled up three houses from Brendan’s tidy bungalow, letting my breathing normalize with a few great drafts of the cool night air. A single sodium light burned overhead one house down from my position next to a looming clump of birch trees.
I glared at the light, then muttered, “Mall scáth.”
A nebulous shadow crept over the streetlight, and the area began to dim gradually. It wouldn’t due to merely cause the lamp to explode; I wanted some degree of surprise for who or whatever was lurking on Brendan’s porch. I was barefoot, and my soles tingled from the run across gravel and pavement, but I pushed the discomfort from my mind and opened my senses to the scene before me.
I heard it first. A low, short creak of the boards on the side porch gave away something moving with incredible delicacy, and my eyes zeroed in on a dark patch that seemed to flow from one window to the next. It was looking for a way in. A quiet way, I decided, and my witchmark began to flood my neck with a heat that could only mean danger. I flicked both hands outward, fingers spread, and spells at the ready. I knew nothing, except that Brendan was in danger, and I was still unseen.
Good enough for me , I thought, and began running across the dew-slicked lawn with both hands held before me. As my feet hit the smooth wood of the porch, the woman turned, her eyes a seething red in a face of inhumanly blank whiteness.
“Wrong house, love.” I released the bolt of sunlight dead into the creature’s chest, blasting her backward with the force of an oncoming truck. I’m not big, but I hit hard.
She skidded across the boards before crashing headfirst into the decorative spindles, shattering four of them with her skull in a spectacular spray of wood chips and blue light. Without stopping, I shouted a cantrip of cold to slow whatever she might be, but not fast enough. Before my second spell hit, I knew she was not human. Her feet hit the porch, and I took a horrendous punch in my stomach, sending white stars flickering across my vision like I was in a vintage cartoon. I heard a hiss and mumble of something in a tongue even I didn’t recognize, and felt my eyes clear just as the second blow caught me clean in the neck.
Big mistake. The creature’s hand
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