Thirty-eight

Julie pulled in front of Elmer’s Knife and Gun Emporium, parking the truck behind a bike that had to be Sarah’s. She glanced over at Mary. The last time she’d seen the bike it had been red and white, but the hammers, swords, and dragon paint job was a pretty good giveaway. She’d have to ask about it once she made sure Sarah was okay. Maybe after she’d kicked the girl’s ass for being gone for so many days.

Mary slammed the truck door as she stepped out and turned, anger flashing across her face. “You mean she’s here?”

Julie shrugged. “Let’s just hope she’s being a dumb ass and isn’t hurt or worse.”

Mary made a tight mouth, but nodded. “If she’s okay, I’ll be giving her a piece of my mind for abandoning Jai Li like this.”

Julie reached over and put her hand on Mary’s shoulder.

“I’m serious,” Mary said. “If this is how she’s going to treat that girl, I don’t think we can let them stay with us. I can’t condone this level of callous behavior.”

“I know, Sarah. This isn’t like her. She promised she wouldn’t be gone over night without keeping us in the loop.” She sighed. “She doesn’t tend to make the same mistake twice.”

Julie paused, thinking back. “Okay, that’s not totally true, but when it’s about something like Jai Li, she wouldn’t screw around. There’s something wrong.”

“God I hope not,” Mary sighed, the fight draining out of her.

They went to the door and hit the buzzer, but Sarah didn’t answer.

“Okay, time to bend a trust,” Julie said, digging a set of keys from her pocket. “Sarah’s emergency keys.”

“We’ll apologize later,” Mary said. “Let’s just get in there and make sure she’s not dead.”

Julie winced as she unlocked the door. “God, not dead. I’m hoping for drunk and passed out at worse.”

Mary growled. “If she’s drunk, I may do something violent.”

Julie stepped into the vestibule, holding the door open for Mary.

They climbed the stairs and turned toward Sarah’s and Katie’s apartment. While Julie unlocked the two deadbolts, Mary looked around. “Who lives next door?” she asked pointing to the door down at the end of the short hall.

“No one,” Julie said, opening the lock on the door handle. “Been empty as long as Sarah’s known Katie.”

She opened the door and looked into the living room.

“Oh, my god,” Mary whispered.

Sarah sat in the middle of the room, a glowing book on her left thigh, Gram in her left hand, and her right resting palm down on a shield on the ground. The place was disheveled. Everything that wasn’t nailed down flowed, floated, or wiggled around the room—chairs, pillows, books, socks, toys, playing cards, and dishes—each falling into a pattern of intricate swirls, spiraling through the room in a decaying orbit around Sarah and the artifacts that glowed around her.

“What in heaven’s name?” Mary asked, reaching over Julie’s shoulder and plucking a toothpick out of the air. As she held it, her bracelet began to pull away from her wrist, wiggling along her arm, tugging toward the gravitational pull of whatever held Sarah frozen.

“I think we’re in trouble,” Julie said, pushing Mary back out into the hallway.

Mary gulped, dropping the toothpick which floated in the air for a moment and began to gracefully reenter the orbit of floating things. Julie looked back, feeling her hair lifting back toward the vortex.

“Magic?” Mary asked, her voice quiet and strained.

“Oh, yeah,” Julie agreed. She backed up, pushing Mary with her, and pulled the door most of the way closed. Her hair fell back to her shoulders.

“I recognize the sword and the shield,” Julie continued. She leaned against the doorframe and rubbed her eyes.

“What about Edith?” Mary asked, her voice a whisper, as if the magic could hear her. “Do you think she’ll know something?”

Julie shook her head. “I’m gonna try something here. You stay back. If anything happens to me, call Edith. Hell, call Jimmy out at Black Briar.” She paused, taking a deep breath, all the old fears suddenly rising in her. The dragon Duchamp breaking her thigh for the pleasure of hearing her scream; the giants and trolls leering at her, waiting to play with her as soon as the dragon tired of causing her pain. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, willing the memory away. Her leg began to throb, even though the bone had mended. Psychosomatic, she knew, but her brain registered pain nonetheless.

“You know, forget that. If something happens to me, call Qindra.”

Mary blanched. “The dragon’s witch?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re definitely out of our league.”

Julie poked her head back into the room briefly, watching as the smaller items in the room flowed ever so slowly in their languid progression into Sarah’s orbit. Like a black hole, sucking in matter, Julie thought. But small, a pinprick, nothing too severe. Maybe it wasn’t too late yet.

“You know what?” she asked, turning and digging her truck keys out of her pocket, careful to keep Sarah’s spare keys in her pocket. “Could you run down to the truck and grab my first aid kit out of the tool box in the back?” She handed over the truck keys, and Mary nodded.

“Back in two shakes,” she said, hurrying down the stairs.

“Good enough,” Julie said, stepping back into the apartment, knocking several small items out of their spiral, but they just found their new position and began the slow fall in toward the center of the anomaly. She let out the breath she’d been holding, turned and threw both deadbolts. “Sorry, Mary,” she said, her face set.

She set Sarah’s spare keys on the table by the door and they began to twitch, scooting toward the edge of the table. She glanced over as a playing card completed its final orbit and flared in a brief flash of green fire as it got too close to the glowing book next to Sarah

“Shit,” she said, looking down at the keys as they slid off the table and found their buoyancy in the twisted gravity of the room. “None of that,” Julie said, snatching the keys back up and shoving them into her pockets.

Ignoring the way her hair floated about her as if she were immersed in water, Julie focused on Sarah, who was thinner and looked to be in some sort of distress. Julie imagined this was what Qindra looked like when she held the dome in place out in Chumstick last year. That level of concentration, that out-of-body feeling that said lights are on but no one’s home.

She knelt down, bringing herself eye level with Sarah and studied her for a second. The buzzer on the wall began to make a racket. Mary was trying to get back into the apartment.

Julie ignored it, reached her hand across the room, testing the air for anything. When she didn’t meet an invisible shield or something, she inched forward, keeping herself low. She made it almost within kissing distance of Sarah before anything happened.

The book shook, its pages ruffled, and a burst of green light blinded Julie. She drew back, covering her face with her hands and squeaked in surprise. It was like a breeze of frigid air had swept from the book, forcing her back, taking her breath.

She lowered her hands, blinked a few times and started forward again, slower than last time. This time she touched the shield under Sarah’s hand. A shock flowed up her arm, almost a mild electrical current. It didn’t hurt, so she didn’t let go. Next she reached for the book again, but the light flared, a tendril of green snaked upward, reaching for her. She pulled her hand back. That looked like it would be a bad idea, she thought.

Gram lay angled across Sarah’s knee, the fuller pulsing with the red light of a solid coal fire.

This I know, she thought and reached out. She touched Sarah’s hand where it grasped the hilt of the sword and more energy poured into Julie, through her and into the shield. Voices rose in her head, screaming and dying voices. Anger and battle cries.

Then Sarah drew a breath, a deep gasping thing that made Julie look over at her. “Sarah?” she asked. She started to release her hand from the shield but the power surged and she couldn’t let go. Magical energy flowed through her like she was a switch, connecting a circuit.

Her vision blurred and suddenly she could see the lines of energy flowing around the room. The book was definitely the center—a pulsing orb of conflicting sources, battling for control of the artifact. This was way out of her league. The book’s energy flowed into Sarah, but the sword pulled it, as did the shield. The extra pull of the sword and shield were the only things keeping Sarah from being totally burned out by the overwhelming energy. And as she watched, the power seemed to be growing.

“What have you done?” Julie asked in a whisper.

With a great effort, Julie was able to slide her hand forward, over the rim of the shield without breaking contact. It was like pushing her hand through tar, the resistance almost too much for her. Once she had her hand over the rim, she grasped it and tried to pull it toward her without allowing it to break contact with Sarah. Then she lifted it up, fighting the death grip Sarah had. She managed to get it up onto Sarah’s lap and pushed it against the book.

Immediately green energy flared from the book and raced across the shield. Sarah shuddered. Julie slid the shield forward a bit more, scooping the edge under the book, feeling the room begin to vibrate under her. The vibration was growing at a rapid pace, and her eyes were beginning to lose focus. She pulled Sarah’s hand with Gram in it, pushing the book from the left and continued to push the shield from the right. With a flip of her right wrist, the book hopped into the air and landed in the shield. There was a burst of green light like a flash bulb, and she yanked the shield up and to the right. The book sailed across the room with a dull clatter. Julie fell back, releasing the sword and shield as the detritus of the apartment fell around her. Then, after a heartbeat, Sarah screamed.