Smells Like Finn Spirit Page 4

  A second Fury. It must have followed Sammy and the others, and then waited for me to show. Which meant the Furies were definitely after me, and not our group in general.

  “Into the car!” I shouted, and pulled out the baton. I extended it fully with a whipping motion, and charged at the Fury.

  This was total suicide I knew. Or at least, close enough. A couple months taking Wing Chun lessons together with Dawn hardly made me Bruce Lee, or the Last Dragon. Hell, it didn’t even make me 3 Ninjas good. But maybe I had a one percent shot at this not being total suicide.

  Two darts shot past me trailing fine wires and punched into the chest of the woman Fury just below her collarbone. Her run turned into a tumble as she spasmed, electricity coursing through her muscles, and the Fury within her issued a horrible screech.

  I turned to find Dawn holding her red plastic Taser. “I think she was shocked to see me,” she said in a terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, and yanked the wires out of the phaser-shaped weapon.

  “Oh my gods, I so love you right now,” I said.

  “I know,” Dawn replied, and grinned.

  Mattie climbed back out of the car, and shouted back inside, “You’re not my mother! My mother left me, and I thought it was my fault my whole life! But it’s not, it’s this messed up family and our messed up gift! I hate you all!”

  Sammy leaped out the other side and shouted over the top of the car at Mattie, “You ungrateful brat! You’re not the only one who lost their mother young! But I’ve been as much a parent to you as your asshole father!”

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, irritation surging. “Now is not the—”

  *You’re all being manipulated!* Alynon shouted in my head. *The third Fury! Snap out of it!*

  Mattie and Sammy both turned their angry glares on me. “Nobody asked you!” Mattie snapped.

  “In fact,” Sammy added, “nobody asked you to swoop in and ruin all of our lives!”

  *Stop this before—*

  I pounded at my own head. “Shut the hell up!”

  Sammy’s face went red with rage, and she began stomping around the car toward me.

  Dawn stalked up to me, waving her Taser in my face. “Don’t shout at them like that!” she said. “We’ve all put up with a lot while you’ve been trying to figure your crap out, you should be kissing our butts!”

  *Oh for Bright’s sake,* Alynon said, and my hand jerked up to my chest to press against the amulet Dawn had gifted me a few months ago, an amulet to protect against chemical influences on my body, magical or otherwise. *Activate it!* Alynon demanded, though his voice sounded faded, distant. *Or are you too stupid?*

  Rage swirled up in me, and I shouted the activation phrase.

  The rage evaporated like the dreams of youth, and I could think clearly again. The third Fury must be nearby, close enough to be manipulating us. And apparently, the Fury’s powers stimulated changes in our body and brain chemistry to incite the rage that—

  Sammy’s fist caught me squarely on the jaw, sending me tumbling to the ground.

  I blinked away tears as Dawn leaped on Sammy. Fatima climbed quickly out of the car and went after Dawn. Mattie screamed at them all to stop ruining everything.

  I rubbed at my jaw. I had to end this quickly before someone got seriously injured, or ended up on COPS, or worse. I looked around us carefully, searching with my arcana sight for the shimmer of a glamour, but saw nothing. Which meant the creature was truly masked somehow, fully invisible. I focused, and reached out instead with my necromantic gift, sensing for nearby spiritual energy. I quickly identified and tuned out the spirits of the brawling women. That left a flickering and damaged presence … directly behind me.

  “Stop it!” I shouted at the women, and rose to my feet as if I were going to launch myself at them. But instead, I turned and swung the baton at the air behind me.

  My forearm hit something solid, causing the baton to fly out of my hand. But I heard an exclamation of pained surprise.

  I gave my best front kick at the air. My foot connected with an invisible shin bone before rising too far, sending a spike of pain through my foot, but I pressed on, throwing several punches. They all missed.

  I paused to sense again for the spiritual energy of the Fury’s host, formed the calm focus required, and exerted my will. It was—

  Guilt washed over me, a crushing, suffocating wave of guilt, a mental assault rather than a physical reaction as images floated across my mind.

  Felicity, a brightblood witch and our family’s au pair, staring with an expression of frozen horror at the ceiling, murdered to frame me, to send me into exile just so Grandfather could draw raw magical energy from the Other Realm through our bond.

  Zeke, the massive berserker with his blond Mr. T mohawk, his skin blistered and blackened, wisps of smoke rising from his eyes as he died to save his sister, Vee, from my Grandfather’s minions. Died because I couldn’t stop Grandfather myself, and because he’d exhausted himself fighting my battles.

  Father, spouting nonsense rhymes and staring at me as though I were a stranger, his mind fractured when Grandfather used my mother’s ghost to possess and control him as part of some insane Arcanite plot. Driven mad to frame me, and now beyond my ability to help with my gifts so untrained.

  My older brother Mort, who resented the favoritism I’d received from Mother and Grandfather before my exile, who took extreme measures to secure his control over the family business, and as a result became addicted to a succubus—a succubus I accidentally sent to the Other Realm and almost certainly destroyed. The damage my grandfather had wrought on Mort—the damage I had done little to heal and much to deepen—had helped to deprive Mattie of a true father, a true family, for years.

  The images and memories came faster now, cascading over me like a waterfall of suckiness.

  Heather, my high school crush and a brilliant alchemist, whose need and danger I had been too blind and too slow to see.

  Sal the sasquatch’s sister, who had died because I sent blood witches against her, and because of the mana drug that my grandfather used on her and many other brightbloods.

  Alynon, desperate to remain in his own body in the Other Realm, but I had forced him back into the prison of my mind so that I could be in my body, in my world.

  Dunngo, the dwarf who died in a heroic act to help me. Dunngo, the dwarf whose spirit I destroyed in order to stop a jorõgumo, to save my younger brother Pete, and to prevent a brightblood war that our hidden Fey enemy had tried to start.

  Dunngo, whose spirit I consumed to fuel my magic, an act of dark necromancy that haunted me every single day.

  And Dawn.

  Dawn, the woman I loved. Dawn, the woman who loved me despite everything. And because of that love, I had all memory of our youth together stolen, and had nearly gotten her killed several times. Even now, she still couldn’t play the guitar for long stretches due to the injury a jorõgumo had given her while with me. Dawn was not an arcana able to use magic. She was not a brightblood, one of the “magical” beings in our world. She was mundy, mundane, without magic. As long as we were together and I kept getting pulled into these conflicts within the magical world, Dawn would be in danger.

  But I couldn’t find the strength to leave her, or to let the Arcana Ruling Council’s enforcers wipe her memory of all magic.

  Self-loathing bubbled up like boiling tar, black and acrid. I could feel it heating up, the fires of anger ready to erupt again.

  But throughout the assault of images and memories, part of my mind remained sheltered within the focus I had created to sense for spiritual energy, protected behind a wall of mental and spiritual defenses formed out of habit from years of necromancer training. That part recognized that the Fury had switched from the more direct manipulation of my body’s chemistry to a psychological attack, and that I remained in serious danger. Before my mental shelter could collapse, I reached out with my senses and found the human spirit of the Fury
’s host to my left. My hand shot out, my fingers jammed against invisible clothes and flesh.

  I focused my will and with my necromantic gift I summoned that human spirit, bracing myself for the pain of spiritual feedback that would hopefully cripple the Fury worse than me.

  The pain did not come. My magic did not rise up, did not respond.

  The Fury knocked my hand away, and a wave of guilt crashed over me again. I nearly fell to my knees under the blow.

  Instead, I turned my rising anger back against the Fury before that anger turned inward and consumed me. I lashed out in a wild backhand swing, and felt my fist connect. I gave a low side kick, and something crunched beneath my heel. An invisible punch hit me in the stomach, but cocooned in the armor of wild emotion I barely felt it. I faced the direction of my invisible enemy and gave another front kick. I connected again, and something slammed back against the car.

  I sprinted to my baton, picked it up, and ran back to the car, swinging wildly in the area the Fury must have fallen. On the second swing, a loud clunk! announced solid contact, and the baton flared bright blue.

  The emotional assault ended, and I stumbled mentally for a second as if my mind leaned against a strong wind that suddenly died.

  The women all slowed then stopped in their struggle, and looked dazed as well. Dawn had Fatima in a headlock. Sammy had Mattie by the hair. They let go with shocked, embarrassed expressions, like someone who shoots an intruder and then discovers it was Grandma come to visit. We all stared at each other for a minute.

  Fatima burst into tears.

  “Shit,” Dawn simply said.

  Then Mattie threw back her arms and her head, arching and rising to her tip toes, shuddering. When she fell back to her heels, she lowered her head, and looked at me, her eyes going bloodshot.

  5

  POISON

  Oh no. Oh gods. The last Fury hadn’t been destroyed by butterflies or incapacitated by the power of a Taser. I had merely damaged its host, and it had moved to a new one.

  But it had to have a weak hold at best on Mattie after expending so much of its magical energy already.

  “Mattie!” Sammy said.

  “I can tase her,” Dawn said uncertainly, raising her Taser.

  Mattie’s eyes snapped to Sammy, and Sammy fell back a step, shuddering.

  Then Sammy launched herself at Dawn, as Fatima moved to grab her, begging for her to stop.

  Mattie turned her red gaze back to me, and I felt the emotional assault begin again.

  I squeezed the baton in my hand.

  “Mattie. Please. Fight it!”

  Gods, how much anger must Mattie have packed down within her that a weakened Fury had been able to take control so easily?

  I thought of all the reasons we had brought her here today, and knew the answer was, unfortunately, a lot. And this would only add to her pain, I realized, this day that was supposed to have been one of joy for her, one of escape from all of the insanity of the past months, turned into yet another damn disaster thanks to Grandfather and the Fey.

  Thanks to me, to my actions that had made me an enemy to be destroyed. And once again, that chaos and danger spilled over onto the ones I loved.

  The Fury’s assault seemed to find purchase in that thought, like a wriggling root that finds its way into a crack in the sidewalk and begins to grow, breaking and shifting the concrete around it. Tiny fissures began to form in my mental and spiritual barriers.

  I stepped forward, and spread my arms wide, dropping the baton.

  “Mattie, I love you. I am sorry,” I said.

  Fury Mattie appeared startled by my action, a hint of alarm flickering across her expression, and she took a step back from me.

  “I love you,” I said again. “We all love you. I know it has been hard, learning about your father’s choices, and with everything you’ve lost, but you still have us all, I promise. We haven’t left you. You still have your family.”

  Fury Mattie made a hissing noise, recoiling from my advance, her back coming up against the car. I came within striking range, and she began to beat and kick and claw at me. Her fist connected with my jaw, nails raked along my arms, she got in a kick that left me worried about a cracked shin bone. But I pushed through the blows and pulled her into my arms.

  I held her in a tight hug, trying to project all of my love and caring for her through my squeeze.

  She kneed me in the groin.

  I began to slide toward the ground, my hold slipping, but I grit my teeth against the pain and waves of nausea, and said, “We love you, Mattie.”

  Sammy had stopped chasing after Dawn and Fatima, and blinked now, the three standing in the street a second. Then they all rushed over to me, and soon Mattie was wrapped in a cocoon of hugs. She squirmed and fought as we held her tight and spoke over her screams.

  “I love you, Mat-cat,” Sammy said. “You’re the daughter I would have wanted, and I don’t even like kids.”

  Mattie’s struggle grew even more frantic.

  Dawn squeezed. “And I may not be your aunt, but I always felt like one, and I hope you know I will always be your family.”

  Fatima said, “We all love you, our little queen.”

  Mattie was practically convulsing now.

  “We all love you,” I repeated.

  With a final, horrendous screech, the Fury fled Mattie’s body, the tattered, weak remains of the Elder Fey spirit speeding away into the blue summer sky.

  Mattie collapsed into our hugs, sobbing.

  We held her for a long while, none of us speaking except through our hugs for Mattie, and for each other, agreeing by silent consent not to discuss the blows given, or the hurtful truths spoken, but to focus only on our love for each other.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Sammy said at last.

  We slowly stepped apart. Mattie rubbed at her eyes, and gave a weak smile, then pushed her blue and green hair back from her face.

  I held on to Dawn’s hand. “We should all go to the house, and stay behind wards until we figure out what in Hoth is going on.”

  Fatima took a step back. “I should go home and make sure Kitty Pryde is taken care of. I’ll Zipcar it and meet you guys there.” Her right hand casually crossed to her left shoulder to hold up the torn corner of her shirt.

  Sammy shook her head. “I’ll call Gwenda—”

  “No,” Fatima said. “Kitty will be a nervous wreck for weeks if someone else just picks her up. I can take her to Gwenda. Besides, I need to make sure my carrots are watered.”

  “You and your carrots,” Sammy said, and sighed. “I think your life is more important than carrots.”

  I located by feel the invisible body of the Fey host I’d knocked out, grabbed it by what felt like a jacket, and dragged it away from the car. “Fatima should be safe,” I said. “The Furies were after me.”

  Sammy rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s a shocker.”

  “It’s not his fault—” Dawn began.

  Mattie winced. That brought us all up short, then Dawn and Sammy both said “Sorry” at the same time.

  Sammy sighed at Fatima. “Fine. I’ll see you at the house. Bring my gear?”

  “Of course,” Fatima said. She and Sammy held each other for a long, silent moment, then Fatima touched Sammy’s cheek, pulled out her phone and walked briskly in the direction of Capitol Hill.

  The rest of us piled into the car, and headed for the Seattle-Bainbridge ferry.

  We had to wait a bit for the 3:45 P.M. boat, but thankfully nobody tried to attack us in the ferry holding lines. Once on board the ferry, we headed up to the top deck to get some fresh air, and walk off the uneasiness we all felt. The breeze off of the Puget Sound was cool in the summer afternoon heat. The lowering sun glinted off of the windows of restaurants that lined the pier, and the buildings old and new that rose in pop-up book layers behind it.

  “So,” Sammy said, facing me once the ferry pulled out and Seattle fell away behind us. “What did you do this time?
Steal some ruby slippers? Read from the Necronomicon? Piss off the Olympians?”

  “Wait,” Dawn said. “Are there really gods on Mount Olympus?” She looked toward the Olympic Peninsula, and our own Mount Olympus at its center.

  “Yeah,” Sammy said. “And it is never a good idea to get mixed up with them, trust me.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I replied. “I swear. The Arcanites are finally making their big move, whatever it is, at least that’s Reggie’s guess.”

  Dawn took my hand. “And their big move is to attack you? I mean, don’t get me wrong sweetie, I think you’re pretty awesome, but if their goal is world domination or whatever, why send ghostly rage-monkeys after you?”

  “Grandfather said because I’ve managed to mess up their plans before.”

  Sammy snorted. “I’ve been telling you since I was old enough to talk, your ability to annoy was going to get you killed one day.”

  “Gee, thanks, sis,” I replied. “Grandfather also thinks if he steals my body he’ll have a direct line to the Other Realm, which I’m guessing the Fey wouldn’t like. But what worries me most is that the enforcers should have stormed in by the end to stop them.”

  “Plus,” Sammy added, “that one Fury was invisible, not just glamoured. It had the help of arcana magic, or an artifact.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “So at least one arcana with power and influence helped them. And someone is keeping the whole thing secret so people don’t start pulling on threads that lead to the Arcanites. Which means the Arcanites really do still have power within the ARC.”

  “Can’t gnomes get you anything you want?” Dawn asked. “So maybe they stole these Furies an invisibility cloak or whatever?”

  “Gnomes wouldn’t do that,” I said. “They may operate a black market of sorts, but the ARC allows it because it’s useful to arcana. If the gnomes ever did anything to cross the line and supply weapons or dangerous artifacts to the Fey or other brightbloods—” I shook my head.

  Dawn said, “Those Fey Forest of Doominess jerks, they have a pretty big grudge against you, right? Maybe they are behind all this.”