Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
I’m fully awake before I realize I’ve been sleeping. Gray squares of light filtering through half-closed curtains puncture two spaces in the wall facing me. I lie still and listen. There is something I hadn’t noticed before. Something that doesn’t belong.
“What’s the matter?”
Speaking of things that don’t belong, Lucas still seems to be beside me. For a second I had forgotten that he was there, which is weird considering I’ve never had a guy in my bed before.
“I don’t know. Something,” I answer.
“Something?” He pushes himself up on his elbows.
“Not a good something.” Is it ever a good something anymore?
The springs creak and he rolls up to standing, metal clinking on metal as he reassembles the arsenal. There is nothing overtly menacing going on, though, just an oddness, something off in the universe. I concentrate. It’s a sound, a humming generated from somewhere beyond the apartment.
“I don’t think anything’s about to come busting through the door, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s like…” I try to visualize the sensation. It doesn’t emanate something dark or even something aggressive. It is more defensive. “It’s a protection spell,” I decide. “But it’s not one of ours.”
Slipping down to the floor, I pad over to the window and push the curtain aside. Nothing much is going on outside, exactly the way it should be in the middle of an icy February night. All of the stores are closed - CVS, Chen’s Chinese Garden, Gino’s - their protective metal gates shut and padlocked against the night. A lone taxi cruises by looking for drunken stragglers.
I scan the apartment windows above each of the stores. Each rectangle is completely dark, blank, free from any signs of magic or menace or life.
“You’re not looking,” Lucas whispers. He has come up behind me, his breath warm on my neck. And now I’m not concentrating either. “Stop trying to see where it’s coming from and let yourself feel the energy.”
I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly, wiping my mind clean of images and thoughts, of the sensation of Lucas so close behind me. The cold filters in around the window frame. I let it seep into my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms, over my collarbones. It wakes me up, clears my brain, helps me think. I focus all of my energy, leading my mind through the material, the tangible, and stretch out toward what can be felt without being seen.
There is a hum, an undercurrent of electricity - of magic - that isn’t generated by anyone in the apartment. I press my fingertips to the cold pane of glass and feel the vibration against my skin. It isn’t a strong spell, not something a Ripper with all their power would conjure up.
“Can the drones cast spells?” I ask.
“Rather weak ones. Drones are, essentially, human. But in the same way an average human can learn rituals and call up magic, so too the drones can cast rudimentary spells.”
“Then I think that’s what this is. Just a protection spell.”
Lucas frowns and looks out the window, searching for what only I can see.
“Which means they feel they need to protect themselves against you.”
“What’s wrong? Isn’t that a good thing? It means they think I can hurt them.”
“What it means is that they are nearby. Watching.”
His eyes roam over the blank windows in front of us.
“You need to find out where they are so we can figure out what they’re up to,” he instructs. “You’ll recognize the enchantment. It’s rather like an aura, just less obvious.”
I hone in on the sensation of the magic gently pulsing through my fingertips and scan the buildings across the way. My eyes skim over the darkened windows. I can sense the auras of the people sleeping in those rooms, vaguely, but I’m sure they’re there, sure I can identify - more or less - what each person is dreaming about, worrying about. I press both palms against the glass and will the vibrations to lead me. First floor. All blank. Second floor everybody sleeping - except… I zoom in on a set of windows right above the pharmacy. The darkened glass is bathed in a faint electric blue glow. As I concentrate it becomes stronger, clearer.
“That’s it.” I draw a finger through the condensation our breath is making.
“Are they in there?”
“No.”
“Were they?”
That’s a bit of a stretch, especially at this distance. I close my eyes and decipher the messages the pulsing energy provides.
“They were. There’s a - I don’t know - a kind of residual film on things. Like magic fingerprints, I guess. There were two of them.”
Lucas runs his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip.
“I think we should go over there.” I’m not sure that’s actually what I think. I mean it’s no doubt a dangerous move, but if there are drones right in front of us, right in our faces, then we need to figure out why.
“Agreed.”
“Really?” I was getting ready for a fight, and an “it’s too risky” speech.
He looks down at me. “You’ll just find a way to go without me.”
The corner of my mouth twitches upwards. “We have an agreement, remember? I would never do such a thing to you.”
He grins in return. “Indeed. At any rate, that is not a Ripper stronghold. I’m fairly certain it is a nest of drones meant to keep track of your movements and...” he hesitates.
“Your half-thoughts are unhelpful, Watcher.”
“And to keep track of your family.”
“My family?”
“Your family, Tristan, is your weak point. If the Rippers need to, they will use them - and your friends - as leverage to get what they want.”
Which the Ripper so much as told me when we met. My heart picks up pace. Nana, Miranda, Nick. My entire life they’ve been the only people I really care about, the only people who’ve cared about me no matter what. Having them hurt in any way, especially when I’m the one to blame, is totally not going to happen. Protecting them has to be my priority.
“Can’t you?” I begin. Can’t you forget about me and take care of them? I think. Let me figure this out for myself, take my chances. In the past few hours I’ve felt my power magnify dozens of times over, my confidence along with it. Maybe I should just cut them all loose, face this on my own.
Lucas’ answer is written all over his face. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “You are my responsibility, my only responsibility. If I can manage both, you have my word I will do so, but if it comes down to you and them, my loyalties are with you.”
Lucas’ never-ending devotion is getting to be a pain in the ass.
“Then we better get over there, learn what they’re up to, and end it.” Maybe cast a nice spell to make being this close to the shop very, very uncomfortable.
“End it?”
“Mess with them a bit.”
Lucas raises his eyebrows. “What did you have in mind? I’ve already killed two of them this evening. Is that not enough messing?”
I head back to the bed and shove my hand under the pillow, pulling out the grimoire.
“I’m pretty sure there are some fun things in here that will do the trick - without you having to slit any more throats.”
“Your thoughtfulness is noted.”
I open the book on top of my quilt but before I can start searching, the pages begin to flutter, silver sparks of magic leaping into the air. Without my touching anything, the fluttering turns into full on spinning, a page landing open before me.
“I think it wants something,” Lucas says.
“It’s that kind of observation that fills me with total confidence in you.” I switch on the light and read the spell in front of me. There are words, symbols, and a reminder to have complete confidence in my abilities or the magic could backfire.
“It’s a reverse protection spell,” I explain. “It will cast back any magic they try to throw our way, magnifying it tenfold. I love it.” I smile up at him. “Get your blades, Killer.”
“As you wish, Seeker.”
I read over the spell a few more times while lacing up my boots. Somehow mixing up any of the words or symbols seems a bit dangerous. Then again, I’m about to walk into a den of drones and while they’re not there, they could always show up. The ensuing bloodbath is not something I feel good about. I push the thought away and look over at Lucas.
He adjusts some hidden sharp object in his waistband.
“Be attentive,” Lucas says as he works. “If they return, you will feel it. Don’t wait until they’re upon us before saying something.”
My knees shake and I pretend to busy myself with buckles around my ankles.
“Really? Because I thought I’d give them time to ambush us.”
Lucas pulls me to my feet, holding me steady with a hand on my lower back. We are very, very close and if we weren’t about to go face unprecedented danger, I might be enjoying it.
“I will stay by your side,” he says, “no matter what.” He releases me. “Shall we go?”
I choke on the tiniest bit of saliva and nod.
The time on my phone says it’s 3:12 am. Still two more hours until Nana and Miranda get up and start working. With any luck, we will be back - in one piece and with the drones’ nest rigged - before anyone notices we’re gone.
The two of us leave through the shop, vault over of the pile of blackened snow at the edge of the sidewalk, and run in the direction of the pharmacy. It’s bright red and white sign flood the street making it easy to see what we’re doing - while making it easy for anyone else to see us doing it. The last thing I need is someone reporting my breaking and entering to Nana.
The street door leading to the apartments is sandwiched between the CVS and beauty supply place. Lucas steps up close and pops the lock before I can start worrying about how we’re getting in.
“That’s a handy little trick,” I comment.
He smiles down at me. “You’re not the only one with special skills.”
No doubt, Watcher. No doubt.
Inside, we’re confronted with four flights, straight up. A dim light flickers overhead, barely illuminating the steps. Tripping and tumbling down the stairs is the most immediate thing I need to worry about.
“You’re absolutely certain no one is in there? Being taken by surprise is not in our best interest.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Or theirs.”
“I’m sure, Killer.” And I am. The air is still. No auras, black or otherwise. The only thing I sense is the slightly intensified pulsing of the protection spell.
“In that case, after you.” Lucas gestures to the stairs and we begin the long sprint to the top. With each step, my heart beats harder wondering what we’ll find up there. I realize I’ve been picturing it like some stakeout from one of my cop shows: cameras and telescopes aimed at our windows, empty coffee cups and fast food bags covering all the surfaces.
These are no cops, though. Drones, Rippers. The place could be full of voodoo dolls, pentagrams, unholy altars. A giant shrine to me complete with candid photos and misplaced socks and mittens could adorn an entire wall. I stumble. Lucas catches me and pushes me forward. We reach the top and he pops the lock on the apartment door.
I was wrong about both scenarios. The place is pretty much empty which lets my heart settle back into a normal pounding. The layout is different than ours. There’s a big living room, a Queens-sized kitchen, a bathroom with the world’s smallest shower and, in the back, a bedroom with no bed. Apparently drones don’t sleep. I also notice the heat is off. Drones don’t get cold, either.
“Well this is lame,” I announce, looking into an empty closet. “I mean, there’s not even a giant pentagram painted on the walls in pig’s blood but…”
I’ve wandered back into the living room. Lucas stands still, staring at the one and only piece of furniture, an oversized table in the center of the room. Maybe I’ve spoken too soon about the pentagram.
I creep up behind Lucas and lay a hand on his arm.
“Hey,” I squeeze his forearm. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” he whispers.
The tone of his voice sends a chill along the length of my spine. I wrap my arms around my middle and swallow. There is no one here. There are no dangerous spells. Most of all, there are no Rippers.
Lucas frowns down at the table in front of him. Taking a closer look, I see that it isn’t some kind of dining room table which is what I had thought, but more of a homemade thing, something carelessly nailed together with old pallets and bent nails. A giant dark stain spreads out from the middle, like juice. No, not juice. Something darker, richer. There’s a puddle in the center that reaches out to the edges in long trails, flowing over the side. I step closer and lean into it, reaching out a hand to see if it’s still wet.. But before my fingers can make contact, Lucas’ arms shoots out, grabbing me and throwing me back. I land hard on my butt.
“Don’t!” he shouts, his voice echoing off the bare walls.
Magic pours into me with a mix of anger and surprise but I take control before I can hurt him again.
“What the hell?” I shout in return.
“It’s blood,” he says, his face grim.
Blood.. Blood magic. Using a person’s blood - a human’s, a Ripper’s, mine - to augment power. It is the most powerful and most forbidden magic of all.
If I’d come into contact with the stain unprepared, I would have been filled with every image, every emotion, of the people from whom the blood was drawn. And since it’s unlikely that the people whose blood stains this table, this floor, gave up their blood willingly, the sensation could only have been a nightmare.
I push myself up. “Have you ever seen this before? I mean I understand that blood magic is how they will get my - I get it’s how they operate. But why here? Obviously they set up shop so close to us for a reason. Why? ”
“I told you that the drones are essentially human. Essentially because they’ve been stripped of their essence, their life force as it were.”
Trembling builds somewhere inside until I feel like every bit of me will start shaking and never stop.
“You mean they drain people of their blood and convert them into servants?” My voice is small and dry.
“Indeed.”
“Like just any people?”
“Drones are generally young as they have the strongest life force. They also use the more attractive ones to seduce others, to draw them into their trap. They tend to look for people in a weakened state - depressed, substance abusing, homeless. Their troubled state makes them more vulnerable. I think they’ve probably created some drones here specifically to watch you and your family, to keep track of your movements. It will be easier for them to,” he closes his mouth and starts again, “They can gauge how to act if they know what you are doing and when you are separated.”
Separating us makes us weaker. Attacking my family is easier with me out of the way. I think of the time I spent away from the shop. Maybe Nana and Miranda and Graham weren’t sleeping. Maybe they weren’t even there. I start hyperventilating.
“We have to get back.” I make a move toward the door and Lucas steps in my way.
He lays his hands on my shoulders.
“Calm down,” he says. “We can’t go just yet.”
“What if they have Nana and Miranda? And Graham” The thought jolts me. Graham a totally human, totally innocent victim. I try twisting out of Lucas’ grip without zapping him.
“Tristan, listen to me,” he orders. I continue thrashing, heading toward the door. “You’re closer to them than anyone. Surely you would know if they were in any danger. Besides, they are both powerful enough to reach out and get your attention if it were needed, no?”
He has a point.
“Yes. Fine. You’re - ugh,” I groan. “Right, I suppose. But we should still get out of here unless you want to go back to throat slitting.”
Lucas looks down at me, not moving.
“What?”
“There’s something we - you - need to do. You’re not going to like it.”
“Seriously? I don’t like any of this.” I push both palms into his chest and even though I’ve put some weight behind it, he doesn’t give.
“You need to read what’s been going on here. It will tell us more about what they’re planning.”
“Read how? They’re pretty much auraless. There’s not much to...”
He steps out of my way, the looming table behind him.
“Oh hell no. And two minutes ago you were knocking me on the floor to keep me from touching it. What’s going on with you?”
“If you’d touched it without being prepared, it would have been too much of a shock. If you do it in a purposeful manner, you can control it better, feel what you want, see what you need, and block out the rest.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that.”
“I assume you block out people’s auras all the time, no?”
Lucas has been uncomfortably correct way too many times so far tonight.
“You know I do.”
“It’s the same. If you start to feel something too much, push it aside the way you cast away the Ripper’s aura earlier this evening.”
I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my hands and wrap my arms around my waist. “And what if I can’t?”
“You can, but if I sense you are in too much distress, I should be able to pull you out of it.”
“Should?”
He reaches down and gently tucks a curl behind my ear. “Will. I will most definitely pull you out of it. I will also be right here beside you the entire time.” Lucas takes my hand between both of his.
“Will that help you to know what I’m feeling?” I ask.
He smiles. “No. But it will make me feel better.”
I roll my eyes but I am kind of relieved to know I won’t be alone.
“Right then,” I say, but I don’t move.
“You need to…” Lucas gestures at the table with his head.
I know. I have to touch it, of course, but the dread of what I might see keeps me hanging back.
Lucas is nothing if not clever. He knows what it will take to push me. “This will let you know if they’ve been keeping an eye on you, or on your family. We may not know exactly what they’re plotting, but at least we’ll know where to start, who we need to protect most.”
I take a deep breath and face the altar on which Rippers and drones have been sacrificing kids, kids from the neighborhood.
Lucas squeezes my fingers. “I’m right here,” he assures me. “Just remember: you are in control, not the vision. These things are not happening now; they’ve already happened.”
I nod and step forward. My fingers tremble as I stretch them out toward the rough wooden planks. There’s no need to bother hiding how I feel from Lucas. He already knows.
“Here goes…” I begin.
The walls fall away. I’m standing in front of the window, looking across to the shop. It’s daytime and, from the amount of people in the street, a weekday morning. I recognize customers and shop owners and neighbors as they hurry along the sidewalks wrapped up against the cold. I’m not quite sure when this all happened, but there’s no snow on the ground, so it was at least a week ago.
The shop door opens and I step out bundled in head-to-toe black wearing my backpack. I’m clearly late because - well, I’m always late - but because I juggle my belongings and weave in and out of people doing my best not to come in contact with anyone. Starting the day with a jolt of other people’s energy is generally the worst.
Whoever is watching doesn’t seem interested in me, though, because he loses sight of me as I charge down the subway stairs and leaves it at that. The edges of the image fade, waver, morph. I’m inside the shop now.
Miranda and Yoriko are working the counter. Miranda takes orders and payments while Yoriko multitasks on the two espresso machines. The two of them work side-by-side in a well-practiced routine, never getting into each other’s way in the narrow space behind the counter. It would be going too far to say that Miranda is good with the customers. I think she actually scares a few of them with the frozen vibe she gives off, but she works fast and she’s efficient. No one is going to complain about her lack of a smile this early in the day. She snatches a twenty out of a repeat customer’s hand as Graham comes down from the apartment looking like he just stepped off a runway somewhere. He’s wearing his crazy expensive overcoat - his crazy expensive everything. Yoriko hands him his full travel mug without looking away from her machines. Miranda gives him an overly enthusiastic send off that probably breaks a health code regulation and gets back to the customers. The drones don’t seem to be interested in Graham either because this one stays put.
The creature whose memories I’m experiencing steps up in front of Miranda and places an order. My aunt’s hand hovers over the computer for a minute and her eyes instantly click to “mine,’ holding me there. Her green eyes flash as she senses the wrongness of her customer. Her hand drops to the protection charm she wears around her wrist. She squeezes the medallion and her lips twitch with the words of the matching spell.
The drone doesn’t react. Miranda draws her eyebrows together but the line is long and she doesn’t have time to figure this out. She takes the cash, Yoriko passes the drink, and I walk over to a chair in the corner. Sitting down in a spot where the counter and kitchen door are visible, this creature watches. I don’t sense any particular feelings attached to its observations, just a pure storing away of information, of the details of our daily lives.
Nana pops in for a minute and steps up to Miranda. They exchange a couple of looks and Nana scans the room finding me there. She raises an eyebrow and glances back at Miranda, the two of them sharing an unspoken message. They look at me like they want me to know they see me there and they understand what I am. I sip at whatever drink this is and stay put. Nana nods at my aunt and heads into the back.
Nana is also off the hook because once she leaves, the drone keeps scanning the room like he’s looking for something...someone… And then Nick walks in. This is Nick’s coffee pickup for his family - mom, dad, grandparents, aunt, uncle - everybody working at the restaurant. Each and every morning before hopping on the subway, he runs in and gets the standing order crammed into two to-go trays. He considers it his job because he is the world’s nicest guy and because he feels guilty for leaving them all to work while he’s at school.
I’m instantly flooded with the first real feelings this creature has experienced. It is recognition - success - and the part of me that’s still me screams internally. I fight against the bond I have with this guy, wishing myself out of it, back to normal. Wishing I had never seen what I’ve seen, but knowing that, without it, I wouldn’t have guessed the target.
Target. What are they planning on doing to him? An image of the table and its monstrous stain flashes through my mind. I need to get back. I need to find Nick. I need to fix whatever this is.
The vision has other plans. The drone gets up and follows Nick from a distance, noting the location of the store, the number of people inside, the way he grabs his bag and runs for the subway. Alone. Without me. Without protection. It is all noted down and stored away, no doubt to be transmitted to someone else - a more important drone, a Ripper.
The edges of the vision blur and fade and I’m in the apartment. I look around for Lucas but he’s gone. Stupidly, I check my hand, expecting my fingers to be tangled in his. They’re empty. The whole place is empty. My heart beats faster, harder. Someone is coming.
Scrambling back into the tiny kitchen, I position myself where I can see who enters. The lock jangles and two people come crashing in. They stumble in a way I totally recognize - they’re wasted. Totally drunk. A dark-haired girl wearing what amounts to a black slip and knee high combat boots supports a young guy dressed not unlike the way Lucas was when I first met him - sort of a mess. He hangs on the girl, his hand roaming over her in a we’re-more-than-friends way. She doesn’t seem to mind but she doesn’t seem that into it either. Which is probably because she’s a drone. I recognize it in her lack of an aura and the icy blue of her eyes.
The guy’s aura is a mess of colors thanks to the amount of alcohol he’s consumed but orange, hormone, is the overriding tone. It’s like a beach sunset. Drone girl backs her victim up against the table, tugging off his jacket. She manages to get it down to his elbows before he rips it off and tosses it on the floor, shoving his tongue down her throat. The drone makes a move to indicate she wants him up on the table.
Do. Not. Do. It. I scream to him knowing this is something that’s already happened, not something I can stop. I think of what Lucas told me, how the drones seduce their victims, troubled kids, bring them to their nests, their hives, and drain them of their blood. And it is as clear as day that that is exactly what is about to happen.
Every instinct tells me I should rush out there and stop this, whip out Gae Buide, slit her throat, and drag this guy out of here. But again, these are visions of things that have happened. Whoever this was, it’s already too late. The only thing I can hope for is that I will be able to keep this from happening again, keep it from happening to Nick, and the only way for me to be able to do that, is to watch this thing through to the end.
The guy has figured out what she wants and he hops up, hoping to drag her with him. She gently resists, but he’s too drunk to be able to move her. When the drone has her victim laid out flat, she rips open his shirt. His arms reach out and circle her and as she moves in for what he hopes is more than making out, the door to the bedroom opens. Two shadowy figures creep forward.
They are bigger than the girl, both male, both with the kind of weak gray auras all the drones have. Each one is dressed in jeans and sweatshirts like every guy in my class. If I’d met them on the street, I wouldn’t have given them a second look, wouldn’t have thought for a minute that they were a threat of any kind if it weren’t for their auras. Their normalcy is terrifying.
One touches the girl on the shoulder and she steps back. The bigger of the two hold their victim down against the wood. He’s figured it out now - not exactly what will happen, of course - but he knows he’s in deep shit. He struggles and flails but he’s drunk and skinny and they are muscles and magic. There’s no way he’s getting out of this. He screams - and nothing has even happened yet.
The second guy whips a blade out from under his shirt and the skinny guy stops screaming. His eyes are huge. Any hopes I’d had that he was too wrecked to understand what they are doing are gone the second I see his face. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Whispers, “Please.” The drones don’t react, of course. They can’t. They can’t feel and they don’t care. He says it one more time, “Please. Don’t.” His eyes rove over the shadowy corners of the room looking for something, anything that can help him, believing to the very end that this can conclude differently. He takes one final glance beyond these monsters surrounding him and his eyes catch - mine. “Please.”
I don’t understand how, but he says it directly to me. The knife arcs through the air, the blade glinting in the bright white glow of the streetlight outside. The boy makes a horrible strangled, gurgling sound as blood shoots straight up from the artery in his neck. It pours over the edges of the table and the girl catches it in a basin. The gurgling goes on, a thick, liquid sound. The boy’s legs thrash against the table, the heels of his boots pounding on the wood as his life escapes from him into the container.
I finally turn away, squeezing my eyes shut. I ball my hands into fists at my side. Lucas. Where are you? You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave me.
Two hands grab my biceps, fingers tightening. Terrified that they can actually see me, that they have found me, I scream and strike out, punching as I force magic into my fingers. I push away the images of the dying boy and concentrate on the electric jolts running down my arms. I open my eyes ready to take aim and collapse against Lucas.
I’m fully awake before I realize I’ve been sleeping. Gray squares of light filtering through half-closed curtains puncture two spaces in the wall facing me. I lie still and listen. There is something I hadn’t noticed before. Something that doesn’t belong.
“What’s the matter?”
Speaking of things that don’t belong, Lucas still seems to be beside me. For a second I had forgotten that he was there, which is weird considering I’ve never had a guy in my bed before.
“I don’t know. Something,” I answer.
“Something?” He pushes himself up on his elbows.
“Not a good something.” Is it ever a good something anymore?
The springs creak and he rolls up to standing, metal clinking on metal as he reassembles the arsenal. There is nothing overtly menacing going on, though, just an oddness, something off in the universe. I concentrate. It’s a sound, a humming generated from somewhere beyond the apartment.
“I don’t think anything’s about to come busting through the door, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s like…” I try to visualize the sensation. It doesn’t emanate something dark or even something aggressive. It is more defensive. “It’s a protection spell,” I decide. “But it’s not one of ours.”
Slipping down to the floor, I pad over to the window and push the curtain aside. Nothing much is going on outside, exactly the way it should be in the middle of an icy February night. All of the stores are closed - CVS, Chen’s Chinese Garden, Gino’s - their protective metal gates shut and padlocked against the night. A lone taxi cruises by looking for drunken stragglers.
I scan the apartment windows above each of the stores. Each rectangle is completely dark, blank, free from any signs of magic or menace or life.
“You’re not looking,” Lucas whispers. He has come up behind me, his breath warm on my neck. And now I’m not concentrating either. “Stop trying to see where it’s coming from and let yourself feel the energy.”
I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly, wiping my mind clean of images and thoughts, of the sensation of Lucas so close behind me. The cold filters in around the window frame. I let it seep into my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms, over my collarbones. It wakes me up, clears my brain, helps me think. I focus all of my energy, leading my mind through the material, the tangible, and stretch out toward what can be felt without being seen.
There is a hum, an undercurrent of electricity - of magic - that isn’t generated by anyone in the apartment. I press my fingertips to the cold pane of glass and feel the vibration against my skin. It isn’t a strong spell, not something a Ripper with all their power would conjure up.
“Can the drones cast spells?” I ask.
“Rather weak ones. Drones are, essentially, human. But in the same way an average human can learn rituals and call up magic, so too the drones can cast rudimentary spells.”
“Then I think that’s what this is. Just a protection spell.”
Lucas frowns and looks out the window, searching for what only I can see.
“Which means they feel they need to protect themselves against you.”
“What’s wrong? Isn’t that a good thing? It means they think I can hurt them.”
“What it means is that they are nearby. Watching.”
His eyes roam over the blank windows in front of us.
“You need to find out where they are so we can figure out what they’re up to,” he instructs. “You’ll recognize the enchantment. It’s rather like an aura, just less obvious.”
I hone in on the sensation of the magic gently pulsing through my fingertips and scan the buildings across the way. My eyes skim over the darkened windows. I can sense the auras of the people sleeping in those rooms, vaguely, but I’m sure they’re there, sure I can identify - more or less - what each person is dreaming about, worrying about. I press both palms against the glass and will the vibrations to lead me. First floor. All blank. Second floor everybody sleeping - except… I zoom in on a set of windows right above the pharmacy. The darkened glass is bathed in a faint electric blue glow. As I concentrate it becomes stronger, clearer.
“That’s it.” I draw a finger through the condensation our breath is making.
“Are they in there?”
“No.”
“Were they?”
That’s a bit of a stretch, especially at this distance. I close my eyes and decipher the messages the pulsing energy provides.
“They were. There’s a - I don’t know - a kind of residual film on things. Like magic fingerprints, I guess. There were two of them.”
Lucas runs his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip.
“I think we should go over there.” I’m not sure that’s actually what I think. I mean it’s no doubt a dangerous move, but if there are drones right in front of us, right in our faces, then we need to figure out why.
“Agreed.”
“Really?” I was getting ready for a fight, and an “it’s too risky” speech.
He looks down at me. “You’ll just find a way to go without me.”
The corner of my mouth twitches upwards. “We have an agreement, remember? I would never do such a thing to you.”
He grins in return. “Indeed. At any rate, that is not a Ripper stronghold. I’m fairly certain it is a nest of drones meant to keep track of your movements and...” he hesitates.
“Your half-thoughts are unhelpful, Watcher.”
“And to keep track of your family.”
“My family?”
“Your family, Tristan, is your weak point. If the Rippers need to, they will use them - and your friends - as leverage to get what they want.”
Which the Ripper so much as told me when we met. My heart picks up pace. Nana, Miranda, Nick. My entire life they’ve been the only people I really care about, the only people who’ve cared about me no matter what. Having them hurt in any way, especially when I’m the one to blame, is totally not going to happen. Protecting them has to be my priority.
“Can’t you?” I begin. Can’t you forget about me and take care of them? I think. Let me figure this out for myself, take my chances. In the past few hours I’ve felt my power magnify dozens of times over, my confidence along with it. Maybe I should just cut them all loose, face this on my own.
Lucas’ answer is written all over his face. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “You are my responsibility, my only responsibility. If I can manage both, you have my word I will do so, but if it comes down to you and them, my loyalties are with you.”
Lucas’ never-ending devotion is getting to be a pain in the ass.
“Then we better get over there, learn what they’re up to, and end it.” Maybe cast a nice spell to make being this close to the shop very, very uncomfortable.
“End it?”
“Mess with them a bit.”
Lucas raises his eyebrows. “What did you have in mind? I’ve already killed two of them this evening. Is that not enough messing?”
I head back to the bed and shove my hand under the pillow, pulling out the grimoire.
“I’m pretty sure there are some fun things in here that will do the trick - without you having to slit any more throats.”
“Your thoughtfulness is noted.”
I open the book on top of my quilt but before I can start searching, the pages begin to flutter, silver sparks of magic leaping into the air. Without my touching anything, the fluttering turns into full on spinning, a page landing open before me.
“I think it wants something,” Lucas says.
“It’s that kind of observation that fills me with total confidence in you.” I switch on the light and read the spell in front of me. There are words, symbols, and a reminder to have complete confidence in my abilities or the magic could backfire.
“It’s a reverse protection spell,” I explain. “It will cast back any magic they try to throw our way, magnifying it tenfold. I love it.” I smile up at him. “Get your blades, Killer.”
“As you wish, Seeker.”
I read over the spell a few more times while lacing up my boots. Somehow mixing up any of the words or symbols seems a bit dangerous. Then again, I’m about to walk into a den of drones and while they’re not there, they could always show up. The ensuing bloodbath is not something I feel good about. I push the thought away and look over at Lucas.
He adjusts some hidden sharp object in his waistband.
“Be attentive,” Lucas says as he works. “If they return, you will feel it. Don’t wait until they’re upon us before saying something.”
My knees shake and I pretend to busy myself with buckles around my ankles.
“Really? Because I thought I’d give them time to ambush us.”
Lucas pulls me to my feet, holding me steady with a hand on my lower back. We are very, very close and if we weren’t about to go face unprecedented danger, I might be enjoying it.
“I will stay by your side,” he says, “no matter what.” He releases me. “Shall we go?”
I choke on the tiniest bit of saliva and nod.
The time on my phone says it’s 3:12 am. Still two more hours until Nana and Miranda get up and start working. With any luck, we will be back - in one piece and with the drones’ nest rigged - before anyone notices we’re gone.
The two of us leave through the shop, vault over of the pile of blackened snow at the edge of the sidewalk, and run in the direction of the pharmacy. It’s bright red and white sign flood the street making it easy to see what we’re doing - while making it easy for anyone else to see us doing it. The last thing I need is someone reporting my breaking and entering to Nana.
The street door leading to the apartments is sandwiched between the CVS and beauty supply place. Lucas steps up close and pops the lock before I can start worrying about how we’re getting in.
“That’s a handy little trick,” I comment.
He smiles down at me. “You’re not the only one with special skills.”
No doubt, Watcher. No doubt.
Inside, we’re confronted with four flights, straight up. A dim light flickers overhead, barely illuminating the steps. Tripping and tumbling down the stairs is the most immediate thing I need to worry about.
“You’re absolutely certain no one is in there? Being taken by surprise is not in our best interest.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Or theirs.”
“I’m sure, Killer.” And I am. The air is still. No auras, black or otherwise. The only thing I sense is the slightly intensified pulsing of the protection spell.
“In that case, after you.” Lucas gestures to the stairs and we begin the long sprint to the top. With each step, my heart beats harder wondering what we’ll find up there. I realize I’ve been picturing it like some stakeout from one of my cop shows: cameras and telescopes aimed at our windows, empty coffee cups and fast food bags covering all the surfaces.
These are no cops, though. Drones, Rippers. The place could be full of voodoo dolls, pentagrams, unholy altars. A giant shrine to me complete with candid photos and misplaced socks and mittens could adorn an entire wall. I stumble. Lucas catches me and pushes me forward. We reach the top and he pops the lock on the apartment door.
I was wrong about both scenarios. The place is pretty much empty which lets my heart settle back into a normal pounding. The layout is different than ours. There’s a big living room, a Queens-sized kitchen, a bathroom with the world’s smallest shower and, in the back, a bedroom with no bed. Apparently drones don’t sleep. I also notice the heat is off. Drones don’t get cold, either.
“Well this is lame,” I announce, looking into an empty closet. “I mean, there’s not even a giant pentagram painted on the walls in pig’s blood but…”
I’ve wandered back into the living room. Lucas stands still, staring at the one and only piece of furniture, an oversized table in the center of the room. Maybe I’ve spoken too soon about the pentagram.
I creep up behind Lucas and lay a hand on his arm.
“Hey,” I squeeze his forearm. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” he whispers.
The tone of his voice sends a chill along the length of my spine. I wrap my arms around my middle and swallow. There is no one here. There are no dangerous spells. Most of all, there are no Rippers.
Lucas frowns down at the table in front of him. Taking a closer look, I see that it isn’t some kind of dining room table which is what I had thought, but more of a homemade thing, something carelessly nailed together with old pallets and bent nails. A giant dark stain spreads out from the middle, like juice. No, not juice. Something darker, richer. There’s a puddle in the center that reaches out to the edges in long trails, flowing over the side. I step closer and lean into it, reaching out a hand to see if it’s still wet.. But before my fingers can make contact, Lucas’ arms shoots out, grabbing me and throwing me back. I land hard on my butt.
“Don’t!” he shouts, his voice echoing off the bare walls.
Magic pours into me with a mix of anger and surprise but I take control before I can hurt him again.
“What the hell?” I shout in return.
“It’s blood,” he says, his face grim.
Blood.. Blood magic. Using a person’s blood - a human’s, a Ripper’s, mine - to augment power. It is the most powerful and most forbidden magic of all.
If I’d come into contact with the stain unprepared, I would have been filled with every image, every emotion, of the people from whom the blood was drawn. And since it’s unlikely that the people whose blood stains this table, this floor, gave up their blood willingly, the sensation could only have been a nightmare.
I push myself up. “Have you ever seen this before? I mean I understand that blood magic is how they will get my - I get it’s how they operate. But why here? Obviously they set up shop so close to us for a reason. Why? ”
“I told you that the drones are essentially human. Essentially because they’ve been stripped of their essence, their life force as it were.”
Trembling builds somewhere inside until I feel like every bit of me will start shaking and never stop.
“You mean they drain people of their blood and convert them into servants?” My voice is small and dry.
“Indeed.”
“Like just any people?”
“Drones are generally young as they have the strongest life force. They also use the more attractive ones to seduce others, to draw them into their trap. They tend to look for people in a weakened state - depressed, substance abusing, homeless. Their troubled state makes them more vulnerable. I think they’ve probably created some drones here specifically to watch you and your family, to keep track of your movements. It will be easier for them to,” he closes his mouth and starts again, “They can gauge how to act if they know what you are doing and when you are separated.”
Separating us makes us weaker. Attacking my family is easier with me out of the way. I think of the time I spent away from the shop. Maybe Nana and Miranda and Graham weren’t sleeping. Maybe they weren’t even there. I start hyperventilating.
“We have to get back.” I make a move toward the door and Lucas steps in my way.
He lays his hands on my shoulders.
“Calm down,” he says. “We can’t go just yet.”
“What if they have Nana and Miranda? And Graham” The thought jolts me. Graham a totally human, totally innocent victim. I try twisting out of Lucas’ grip without zapping him.
“Tristan, listen to me,” he orders. I continue thrashing, heading toward the door. “You’re closer to them than anyone. Surely you would know if they were in any danger. Besides, they are both powerful enough to reach out and get your attention if it were needed, no?”
He has a point.
“Yes. Fine. You’re - ugh,” I groan. “Right, I suppose. But we should still get out of here unless you want to go back to throat slitting.”
Lucas looks down at me, not moving.
“What?”
“There’s something we - you - need to do. You’re not going to like it.”
“Seriously? I don’t like any of this.” I push both palms into his chest and even though I’ve put some weight behind it, he doesn’t give.
“You need to read what’s been going on here. It will tell us more about what they’re planning.”
“Read how? They’re pretty much auraless. There’s not much to...”
He steps out of my way, the looming table behind him.
“Oh hell no. And two minutes ago you were knocking me on the floor to keep me from touching it. What’s going on with you?”
“If you’d touched it without being prepared, it would have been too much of a shock. If you do it in a purposeful manner, you can control it better, feel what you want, see what you need, and block out the rest.”
“I’m not sure I know how to do that.”
“I assume you block out people’s auras all the time, no?”
Lucas has been uncomfortably correct way too many times so far tonight.
“You know I do.”
“It’s the same. If you start to feel something too much, push it aside the way you cast away the Ripper’s aura earlier this evening.”
I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my hands and wrap my arms around my waist. “And what if I can’t?”
“You can, but if I sense you are in too much distress, I should be able to pull you out of it.”
“Should?”
He reaches down and gently tucks a curl behind my ear. “Will. I will most definitely pull you out of it. I will also be right here beside you the entire time.” Lucas takes my hand between both of his.
“Will that help you to know what I’m feeling?” I ask.
He smiles. “No. But it will make me feel better.”
I roll my eyes but I am kind of relieved to know I won’t be alone.
“Right then,” I say, but I don’t move.
“You need to…” Lucas gestures at the table with his head.
I know. I have to touch it, of course, but the dread of what I might see keeps me hanging back.
Lucas is nothing if not clever. He knows what it will take to push me. “This will let you know if they’ve been keeping an eye on you, or on your family. We may not know exactly what they’re plotting, but at least we’ll know where to start, who we need to protect most.”
I take a deep breath and face the altar on which Rippers and drones have been sacrificing kids, kids from the neighborhood.
Lucas squeezes my fingers. “I’m right here,” he assures me. “Just remember: you are in control, not the vision. These things are not happening now; they’ve already happened.”
I nod and step forward. My fingers tremble as I stretch them out toward the rough wooden planks. There’s no need to bother hiding how I feel from Lucas. He already knows.
“Here goes…” I begin.
The walls fall away. I’m standing in front of the window, looking across to the shop. It’s daytime and, from the amount of people in the street, a weekday morning. I recognize customers and shop owners and neighbors as they hurry along the sidewalks wrapped up against the cold. I’m not quite sure when this all happened, but there’s no snow on the ground, so it was at least a week ago.
The shop door opens and I step out bundled in head-to-toe black wearing my backpack. I’m clearly late because - well, I’m always late - but because I juggle my belongings and weave in and out of people doing my best not to come in contact with anyone. Starting the day with a jolt of other people’s energy is generally the worst.
Whoever is watching doesn’t seem interested in me, though, because he loses sight of me as I charge down the subway stairs and leaves it at that. The edges of the image fade, waver, morph. I’m inside the shop now.
Miranda and Yoriko are working the counter. Miranda takes orders and payments while Yoriko multitasks on the two espresso machines. The two of them work side-by-side in a well-practiced routine, never getting into each other’s way in the narrow space behind the counter. It would be going too far to say that Miranda is good with the customers. I think she actually scares a few of them with the frozen vibe she gives off, but she works fast and she’s efficient. No one is going to complain about her lack of a smile this early in the day. She snatches a twenty out of a repeat customer’s hand as Graham comes down from the apartment looking like he just stepped off a runway somewhere. He’s wearing his crazy expensive overcoat - his crazy expensive everything. Yoriko hands him his full travel mug without looking away from her machines. Miranda gives him an overly enthusiastic send off that probably breaks a health code regulation and gets back to the customers. The drones don’t seem to be interested in Graham either because this one stays put.
The creature whose memories I’m experiencing steps up in front of Miranda and places an order. My aunt’s hand hovers over the computer for a minute and her eyes instantly click to “mine,’ holding me there. Her green eyes flash as she senses the wrongness of her customer. Her hand drops to the protection charm she wears around her wrist. She squeezes the medallion and her lips twitch with the words of the matching spell.
The drone doesn’t react. Miranda draws her eyebrows together but the line is long and she doesn’t have time to figure this out. She takes the cash, Yoriko passes the drink, and I walk over to a chair in the corner. Sitting down in a spot where the counter and kitchen door are visible, this creature watches. I don’t sense any particular feelings attached to its observations, just a pure storing away of information, of the details of our daily lives.
Nana pops in for a minute and steps up to Miranda. They exchange a couple of looks and Nana scans the room finding me there. She raises an eyebrow and glances back at Miranda, the two of them sharing an unspoken message. They look at me like they want me to know they see me there and they understand what I am. I sip at whatever drink this is and stay put. Nana nods at my aunt and heads into the back.
Nana is also off the hook because once she leaves, the drone keeps scanning the room like he’s looking for something...someone… And then Nick walks in. This is Nick’s coffee pickup for his family - mom, dad, grandparents, aunt, uncle - everybody working at the restaurant. Each and every morning before hopping on the subway, he runs in and gets the standing order crammed into two to-go trays. He considers it his job because he is the world’s nicest guy and because he feels guilty for leaving them all to work while he’s at school.
I’m instantly flooded with the first real feelings this creature has experienced. It is recognition - success - and the part of me that’s still me screams internally. I fight against the bond I have with this guy, wishing myself out of it, back to normal. Wishing I had never seen what I’ve seen, but knowing that, without it, I wouldn’t have guessed the target.
Target. What are they planning on doing to him? An image of the table and its monstrous stain flashes through my mind. I need to get back. I need to find Nick. I need to fix whatever this is.
The vision has other plans. The drone gets up and follows Nick from a distance, noting the location of the store, the number of people inside, the way he grabs his bag and runs for the subway. Alone. Without me. Without protection. It is all noted down and stored away, no doubt to be transmitted to someone else - a more important drone, a Ripper.
The edges of the vision blur and fade and I’m in the apartment. I look around for Lucas but he’s gone. Stupidly, I check my hand, expecting my fingers to be tangled in his. They’re empty. The whole place is empty. My heart beats faster, harder. Someone is coming.
Scrambling back into the tiny kitchen, I position myself where I can see who enters. The lock jangles and two people come crashing in. They stumble in a way I totally recognize - they’re wasted. Totally drunk. A dark-haired girl wearing what amounts to a black slip and knee high combat boots supports a young guy dressed not unlike the way Lucas was when I first met him - sort of a mess. He hangs on the girl, his hand roaming over her in a we’re-more-than-friends way. She doesn’t seem to mind but she doesn’t seem that into it either. Which is probably because she’s a drone. I recognize it in her lack of an aura and the icy blue of her eyes.
The guy’s aura is a mess of colors thanks to the amount of alcohol he’s consumed but orange, hormone, is the overriding tone. It’s like a beach sunset. Drone girl backs her victim up against the table, tugging off his jacket. She manages to get it down to his elbows before he rips it off and tosses it on the floor, shoving his tongue down her throat. The drone makes a move to indicate she wants him up on the table.
Do. Not. Do. It. I scream to him knowing this is something that’s already happened, not something I can stop. I think of what Lucas told me, how the drones seduce their victims, troubled kids, bring them to their nests, their hives, and drain them of their blood. And it is as clear as day that that is exactly what is about to happen.
Every instinct tells me I should rush out there and stop this, whip out Gae Buide, slit her throat, and drag this guy out of here. But again, these are visions of things that have happened. Whoever this was, it’s already too late. The only thing I can hope for is that I will be able to keep this from happening again, keep it from happening to Nick, and the only way for me to be able to do that, is to watch this thing through to the end.
The guy has figured out what she wants and he hops up, hoping to drag her with him. She gently resists, but he’s too drunk to be able to move her. When the drone has her victim laid out flat, she rips open his shirt. His arms reach out and circle her and as she moves in for what he hopes is more than making out, the door to the bedroom opens. Two shadowy figures creep forward.
They are bigger than the girl, both male, both with the kind of weak gray auras all the drones have. Each one is dressed in jeans and sweatshirts like every guy in my class. If I’d met them on the street, I wouldn’t have given them a second look, wouldn’t have thought for a minute that they were a threat of any kind if it weren’t for their auras. Their normalcy is terrifying.
One touches the girl on the shoulder and she steps back. The bigger of the two hold their victim down against the wood. He’s figured it out now - not exactly what will happen, of course - but he knows he’s in deep shit. He struggles and flails but he’s drunk and skinny and they are muscles and magic. There’s no way he’s getting out of this. He screams - and nothing has even happened yet.
The second guy whips a blade out from under his shirt and the skinny guy stops screaming. His eyes are huge. Any hopes I’d had that he was too wrecked to understand what they are doing are gone the second I see his face. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Whispers, “Please.” The drones don’t react, of course. They can’t. They can’t feel and they don’t care. He says it one more time, “Please. Don’t.” His eyes rove over the shadowy corners of the room looking for something, anything that can help him, believing to the very end that this can conclude differently. He takes one final glance beyond these monsters surrounding him and his eyes catch - mine. “Please.”
I don’t understand how, but he says it directly to me. The knife arcs through the air, the blade glinting in the bright white glow of the streetlight outside. The boy makes a horrible strangled, gurgling sound as blood shoots straight up from the artery in his neck. It pours over the edges of the table and the girl catches it in a basin. The gurgling goes on, a thick, liquid sound. The boy’s legs thrash against the table, the heels of his boots pounding on the wood as his life escapes from him into the container.
I finally turn away, squeezing my eyes shut. I ball my hands into fists at my side. Lucas. Where are you? You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave me.
Two hands grab my biceps, fingers tightening. Terrified that they can actually see me, that they have found me, I scream and strike out, punching as I force magic into my fingers. I push away the images of the dying boy and concentrate on the electric jolts running down my arms. I open my eyes ready to take aim and collapse against Lucas.
Comments
Post a Comment