“The pact is made,” Cornelius said, his voice distant and otherworldly.
“The hell it is. It’s mine!”
Magic snapped out of Vincent, gripping the cat.
I dove left, trying to push the bat-ape off my gun. The heavy body refused to move. My hands slid in the blood.
Cornelius and Vincent stood face-to-face, the cat creature crouching by Cornelius. Magic churned between the two men. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it.
I put my legs into it, heaved the beast aside, grabbed my blood-soaked Baby Desert Eagle, and spun around, scrambling to grab my magazine.
Cornelius opened his mouth and sang out a long note that sounded like the howl of a cat.
Vincent clawed the air with his hands. The magic swirled away from Cornelius, sparking in the empty air. A dark knot of smoke formed above the floor, shot through with lightning. He was about to open another portal.
I slapped the magazine into the gun. Got you, you bastard.
Rynda screamed. Power erupted from her in a torrent and slammed against Vincent.
I fired. The gun roared twice.
He jerked a fraction of a second before I squeezed the trigger, his face contorted with raw panic, and went through the window in an explosion of glass shards.
No.
I jumped to my feet and ran to the window. A well-lit backyard stretched into the night, the pool perfectly still. My first shot had grazed his shoulder. My second had gone wide. I was aiming for his head. If Rynda hadn’t done whatever she did . . . It didn’t matter. Vincent was gone.
Rynda collapsed on her knees in front of Edward’s body. The kids wailed. Edward raised his head and tried to say something.
Rynda grabbed his hand. “Don’t speak. It will be okay.”
The blue cat creature rubbed its head against Cornelius’ hand.
Vincent got away. I wanted to throw my gun against the wall. I didn’t, but I really wanted to. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
Rogan’s people beat the paramedics by four minutes and they brought Dr. Daniela Arias with them. When they found us, I was pressing Cornelius’ bundled jacket against Edward’s wound, the kids were wailing despite Rynda’s best efforts to calm them down, and the monster cat was making demonic noises Cornelius claimed was a form of a purr. Cat wasn’t an accurate description. There was something feline about it, something reminiscent of the broad powerful tiger, but its nose was a complicated thing of four nostrils, and the fringe of tentacles that ringed its neck moved on its own. The beast looked at me with an understanding, as if it was a lot smarter than any Earth animal. It was just odd. Really odd and unsettling.
Rogan’s people stabilized Edward, moved all of us into the upstairs living room, which was free of the nasty-smelling corpses, assigned a man with a Beretta tactical shotgun to guard us, established a perimeter, and began a systematic sweep of the house and the grounds. Cornelius and his new pet went to help.
While they did that, I called home, told Bern what happened, and then did a quick search on Vincent Harcourt. Vincent, the only son and heir apparent of House Harcourt, Prime, Summonitor, which was the official term for summoner mages. No convictions, no criminal records, worth around fifty million dollars. Summoning didn’t have great applications in the real world, but the Harcourts clearly had done well for themselves.
Rynda held Edward’s hand until the paramedics took him away.
“He’ll make it,” Daniela said. “The damage wasn’t significant. The main danger is infection.”
“Thank you,” I told her.
She squinted at me.
Dr. Arias and I didn’t see eye to eye. She’d tried to warn me that my relationship with Rogan was a very bad idea, and I didn’t listen to her advice. I’d also threatened her. Considering that Daniela was at least eight inches taller than me and built like a woman who could stop a horse in full gallop by grabbing it, in retrospect, threatening her wasn’t one of my wiser decisions. But I wanted to be with Rogan and I wouldn’t let anybody stop me.
And he was still missing in action. Worry gnawed at me.
“Is any of that blood yours?” Daniela asked.
“Some.”
“So you have an open wound and you’re covered in blood from the arcane realm.”
“Yes.”
“Were you planning on letting me know about it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Right now.” She would kill me for sure.
“How is it that nobody else has any blood on them?”
“Uh . . .”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a giant bottle of water and another of alcohol sanitizer. “Let’s see it.”
I hiked up my dress. Three bright scratches tore across my left thigh. “Just scratches. Also shoulders.” I was pretty sure the claws had punctured me.
Daniela sighed and got out a syringe sealed in plastic and a vial.
“What is that?”
“Antivenin. The creatures secrete venom on their claws. Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“It should.” She tore the plastic off the syringe and stabbed it into the vial through the seal on top. “It will hurt in about ten minutes if the venom is neutralized.”
It hurt like someone stabbed me with a hot poker. My thigh was on fire. My shoulders burned. It took her about fifteen minutes to thoroughly sanitize my wounds and seal them with a skin adhesive. None of it was deep, but it hurt like hell.
Then she started cleaning my hands and legs. By the time I was released, I felt like I was scrubbed with one of those green scouring pads used to get dried-on crust out of pans. My skin was clean. My dress was another story. There was no way to expose the shoulders without taking it off completely. We had to cut it. That hurt almost as much as the antivenin.
“Done,” Daniela said.
“Thank you.”
She squinted at me again.
I got up and moved to where Rynda and the children sat on the love seat. The kids were curled up around her. Kyle had finally fallen asleep. She’d covered him with a blanket. Jessica was almost there too, her face sleepy, her eyes closing, tucked into the corner of the couch.
I sat across from them on a footstool, trying not to wince. Rynda glanced at me. She looked like she’d been through hell and back.
“Walk me through it,” I told her.
“Right now?”
“Yes, please.”
“The hell it is. It’s mine!”
Magic snapped out of Vincent, gripping the cat.
I dove left, trying to push the bat-ape off my gun. The heavy body refused to move. My hands slid in the blood.
Cornelius and Vincent stood face-to-face, the cat creature crouching by Cornelius. Magic churned between the two men. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it.
I put my legs into it, heaved the beast aside, grabbed my blood-soaked Baby Desert Eagle, and spun around, scrambling to grab my magazine.
Cornelius opened his mouth and sang out a long note that sounded like the howl of a cat.
Vincent clawed the air with his hands. The magic swirled away from Cornelius, sparking in the empty air. A dark knot of smoke formed above the floor, shot through with lightning. He was about to open another portal.
I slapped the magazine into the gun. Got you, you bastard.
Rynda screamed. Power erupted from her in a torrent and slammed against Vincent.
I fired. The gun roared twice.
He jerked a fraction of a second before I squeezed the trigger, his face contorted with raw panic, and went through the window in an explosion of glass shards.
No.
I jumped to my feet and ran to the window. A well-lit backyard stretched into the night, the pool perfectly still. My first shot had grazed his shoulder. My second had gone wide. I was aiming for his head. If Rynda hadn’t done whatever she did . . . It didn’t matter. Vincent was gone.
Rynda collapsed on her knees in front of Edward’s body. The kids wailed. Edward raised his head and tried to say something.
Rynda grabbed his hand. “Don’t speak. It will be okay.”
The blue cat creature rubbed its head against Cornelius’ hand.
Vincent got away. I wanted to throw my gun against the wall. I didn’t, but I really wanted to. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
Rogan’s people beat the paramedics by four minutes and they brought Dr. Daniela Arias with them. When they found us, I was pressing Cornelius’ bundled jacket against Edward’s wound, the kids were wailing despite Rynda’s best efforts to calm them down, and the monster cat was making demonic noises Cornelius claimed was a form of a purr. Cat wasn’t an accurate description. There was something feline about it, something reminiscent of the broad powerful tiger, but its nose was a complicated thing of four nostrils, and the fringe of tentacles that ringed its neck moved on its own. The beast looked at me with an understanding, as if it was a lot smarter than any Earth animal. It was just odd. Really odd and unsettling.
Rogan’s people stabilized Edward, moved all of us into the upstairs living room, which was free of the nasty-smelling corpses, assigned a man with a Beretta tactical shotgun to guard us, established a perimeter, and began a systematic sweep of the house and the grounds. Cornelius and his new pet went to help.
While they did that, I called home, told Bern what happened, and then did a quick search on Vincent Harcourt. Vincent, the only son and heir apparent of House Harcourt, Prime, Summonitor, which was the official term for summoner mages. No convictions, no criminal records, worth around fifty million dollars. Summoning didn’t have great applications in the real world, but the Harcourts clearly had done well for themselves.
Rynda held Edward’s hand until the paramedics took him away.
“He’ll make it,” Daniela said. “The damage wasn’t significant. The main danger is infection.”
“Thank you,” I told her.
She squinted at me.
Dr. Arias and I didn’t see eye to eye. She’d tried to warn me that my relationship with Rogan was a very bad idea, and I didn’t listen to her advice. I’d also threatened her. Considering that Daniela was at least eight inches taller than me and built like a woman who could stop a horse in full gallop by grabbing it, in retrospect, threatening her wasn’t one of my wiser decisions. But I wanted to be with Rogan and I wouldn’t let anybody stop me.
And he was still missing in action. Worry gnawed at me.
“Is any of that blood yours?” Daniela asked.
“Some.”
“So you have an open wound and you’re covered in blood from the arcane realm.”
“Yes.”
“Were you planning on letting me know about it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Right now.” She would kill me for sure.
“How is it that nobody else has any blood on them?”
“Uh . . .”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a giant bottle of water and another of alcohol sanitizer. “Let’s see it.”
I hiked up my dress. Three bright scratches tore across my left thigh. “Just scratches. Also shoulders.” I was pretty sure the claws had punctured me.
Daniela sighed and got out a syringe sealed in plastic and a vial.
“What is that?”
“Antivenin. The creatures secrete venom on their claws. Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“It should.” She tore the plastic off the syringe and stabbed it into the vial through the seal on top. “It will hurt in about ten minutes if the venom is neutralized.”
It hurt like someone stabbed me with a hot poker. My thigh was on fire. My shoulders burned. It took her about fifteen minutes to thoroughly sanitize my wounds and seal them with a skin adhesive. None of it was deep, but it hurt like hell.
Then she started cleaning my hands and legs. By the time I was released, I felt like I was scrubbed with one of those green scouring pads used to get dried-on crust out of pans. My skin was clean. My dress was another story. There was no way to expose the shoulders without taking it off completely. We had to cut it. That hurt almost as much as the antivenin.
“Done,” Daniela said.
“Thank you.”
She squinted at me again.
I got up and moved to where Rynda and the children sat on the love seat. The kids were curled up around her. Kyle had finally fallen asleep. She’d covered him with a blanket. Jessica was almost there too, her face sleepy, her eyes closing, tucked into the corner of the couch.
I sat across from them on a footstool, trying not to wince. Rynda glanced at me. She looked like she’d been through hell and back.
“Walk me through it,” I told her.
“Right now?”
“Yes, please.”
