Gremlin Night Read online

  He took the knife from me.

  “Love him,” the nymph commanded me. The air’s smell went from a stale, closed up scent, to a strong scent of roses in springtime, on a dew-laden evening when Venus hung in the sky. The kind of night when the mind turned to love and lust.

  I shook from the force of it. I ached to embrace Tully. I managed to push my right hand into my jacket even as he reached to pull me close. His eyes had a trapped look. Mine must have looked the same.

  He bent down to kiss me. He smelled warm and so alive.

  My hand closed on my blood amulet. “Rejection,” I croaked. The short spell was a desperate last second type of spell, used against a manifestation. It was a kind of binding spell, defense against a manifestation attempting to charm a sorcerer. To bind at the human mind, heart, or soul.

  Or in this case, all of the above.

  Air whooshed and silver light exploded around Tully and me. Just like that, the spell was broken. I staggered back and fell on my backside. Tully also took a step back, squeezing his eyes and blinking.

  The nymph’s beautiful face turned ugly and she snarled.

  “Now, now,” I said, scooting away from the sudden snarl queen. “You do that long enough, and your face is going to get stuck in that expression.” I scrambled to my feet, my palms slick with sudden sweat.

  The snarl faded into a sly grin. “Oh, I have different ways of dealing with humans. I was going to kill you with pleasure, but I see you’d prefer to die the old-fashioned way, in fear and pain!”

  She gestured and panic jabbed me. My legs wobbled and my chest ached.

  Tully snatched his gun from the floor.

  The nymph stroked the air like a lover. His eyes widened and he threw the revolver across the room. He shook himself, trying to fight the fear he also must be feeling.

  I needed to bind her, fear or no fear. I pushed myself to move, despite the panic, and snatched up my binding knife from where Tully had dropped it.

  The nymph gestured a second time. “Not so fast.”

  The binding knife slipped from my fingers, I tried reaching down to snatch it a second time, but the room was suddenly small and stifling, and my skin crawled. I had to get away, upstairs, anywhere but in that room.

  “One at a time,” the nymph murmured. “First the man, then the woman. Perhaps pleasure can still be had, in the end.” Her voice was a purr, reminding me of the whorl-kin I’d encountered earlier today in Illinois. Had that been today? It felt like a month ago.

  The memory brought me back to reality. The nymph eyed Tully, sashayed her way to him, lifting her arms, as if to say, come to me, big boy.

  I blinked. The terror thundering inside me abruptly subsided, as the nymph focused on Tully. Now was my chance.

  I ran my hands over my jacket. I had to have something to deal with Miss Passion Princess.

  My knife, suddenly I couldn’t find it. Tully’s gun had crashed behind something in the next room. I’d never have time to find it.

  This was ridiculous. There had to be something.

  That’s when my gaze fell on a fallen figurine of a unicorn, lying beside an over-turned cabinet in the dining room, just visible from where I crouched on the stairs. I slipped off the stairs as the nymph approached Tully, reminding me of a snake rather than a beauty queen. The mask had slipped off, and her true nature revealed. She was some kind of killer creature that looked like a nymph, but the nymphs I’d encountered weren’t sadistic murderers.

  I snatched up the unicorn and gave my best hurling-the-ball-to-home plate throw. The unicorn smashed into the back of her pretty head and she staggered. I ran through the kitchen hall and into the trashed living room, frantically searching for Tully’s pistol. No sign of it.

  “Not so fast, girl,” the fake-nymph snarled.

  I scurried behind a fallen book case, but even short as I was, I was still exposed enough for her to see me.

  Her eyes danced. “Time for you to lighten up.” She blew me a kiss.

  My legs became rubber and I went down on my knees. Ecstatic joy filled me. The world was awesome, and I was awesome to be in it, and I just wanted to give thanks to the God I was no longer sure existed. Suddenly, I had holy fire burning within me.

  I laughed wildly and the fake-nymph laughed along with me. She held my binding knife in her hands.

  I nodded against my will. It belonged in her hands. She was far more fit to wield it than I.

  I smiled and raised my arms higher, palms toward the ceiling. I felt warm and fuzzy.

  She traipsed up to me, and stroked my cheek with her beautiful fingers.

  “This won’t hurt a bit,” she assured me and brought the binding knife close to my throat. She was close enough I could see the purple aura around her, outlining her stunning face.

  “Banish!” A deep male voice shouted in English, followed by a soft whoosh. Paper swirled around us, and my hair blew in my face.

  Fear smashed back into me like an avalanche. My stomach clenched.

  I scrambled backwards, smacking hard into the wall behind me.

  The fake-nymph shrieked. Her skin blackened, ethereal smoke suddenly billowing from her flesh.

  “Nooooo!” Her shriek made me slap my hands over my ears.

  My hair shifted away from my eyes and I could see Tully standing six feet behind the dissolving manifestation, a rune-covered wooden rod in his hands.

  Sweat dripped from his face.

  The manifestation became a cloud of black vapor that faded away, leaving the two of us facing each other, breathing like steam engines.

  “That was close,” I said. My heart wanted to explode. “Thanks,” I panted. “Glad you had that rod.” A rod of banishment, a one-shot artifact that could dissolve any manifestation that was newer than level five. I raised an eyebrow. “Say, how were you issued a rod of banishment?”

  “I wasn’t,” Tully replied.

  I grinned. “Borrowed it, did you? Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  He shook his head. “You jump to conclusions way too fast, Marquez.”

  I crossed my arms. “How did you get one, then?”

  “I found it,” he said. “Here. Right now. I was desperate—I guess adrenalin gave my sight a boost, and I found it taped to the underside of a table in the reading room.”

  “That was lucky.”

  He nodded. “Therese planned ahead.” She must have, placing a very rare artifact that was deadly to manifestations, in easy reach. She must have been on guard for some time. It wouldn’t have been easy to have acquired the rod, or even to have “borrowed” it without asking.

  We went to the living room window, pulled back the curtain and gazed out at the night. I didn’t see any mana or magical auras, but that was no surprise. Tully stared intently outside.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  I was tired, feeling like I’d been smacked by a giant. I wanted nothing more than to go get another mug of coffee and listen to some metal. But that wasn’t happening.

  “We’ll need to check outside.” I opened the door.

  “I should go first,” Tully said. He tapped his temple. “My sight.”

  He had a point. I bowed and motioned at the door. Pretty hilarious if you ask me, a five-foot two woman bowing to a six-foot four guy. Tully didn’t crack a smile. He stepped outside, doing his seer scan—right, left, up, down, kneel, stand. He pivoted and looked at the roofline.

  “I don’t sense anything arcane.” He sounded surprised. “No magic. Not even any residual mana.”

  “No mana at all?”

  “None.”

  Something had to have summoned that fake-nymph. I shivered. Possibly even conjured it. The fake nymph had been a deadly killer. It didn’t just wander into the house. It had come with the purpose of killing us.

  That’s not how nymphs worked, but someone had managed to send a new sort of manifestation at us.

  Great. First super-powered gremlins, then fake-nymphs. What was next? Steel dragon assassin
s?

  “We need to find Sylvas,” I told Tully.

  He nodded. “We do. They loved each other.”

  “Not just from the letter. He was taking care of her.” I pursed my lips. It was going to be difficult to find him. I suddenly went cold. “He’s a target.”

  “So were we, just now. I don’t know if you noticed or not, but someone just sent a manifestation to kill us. Two, in fact. First the gargoyle then this nymph.”

  “Fake nymph,” I corrected. “That piece of work was nasty. So was the gargoyle. How did they get here? Therese’s last testament said a wizard had come here, threatened her, tried to get her to surrender her friend and lover, then stationed ravagers outside with orders to attack when the solstice came. The height of nocturnal magic.”

  “You think that same wizard conjured the ‘fake nymph” to destroy us. Why? To cover their tracks? Tully asked. “Wouldn’t that just draw attention?”

  Tully had a point.

  “Maybe it wasn’t the same wizard.”

  He looked at me sideways. “First we have nearly impossible artifacts—”

  “Or one impossible super artifact,” I interrupted. “I still think it’s a single artifact.”

  “Now you’re saying two wizards? I was trained that wizards are rare.”

  “But there are more than a couple of them.”

  He gazed up at the sky. “But two in Portland, when there’s a crisis in Seattle?” His question was a low murmur.

  “Sounds like exactly the time to have two wizards in Seattle.” But Tully had a point. Wizards weren’t nearly as numerous as we sorcerers. Mastering two or more kinds of magic risked madness. My mother had pulled it off, as has a wizard in my grandmother’s group, but those were exceptions. Like all wizards. To have two here stretched things quite a lot.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. I didn’t, but someone had gone over this place, sent in the ravagers, and then a fake-nymph. Maybe we weren’t the target. Maybe the great elf had been. “We need to talk to the elf.”

  “We have no idea where he is,” Tully said.

  “Not yet.” I smiled. “You’ll need to read a possession of his.”

  Tully raised a hand. “Now wait a minute. That’s not part of my seeing.”

  “Why not? Seers can see, right? You see mana, see how it intertwines with magic. There’s links between people and manifestations, and also between the possessions belonging to people or having belonged to manifestations who have been resident long enough to establish deeper connections.”

  “I’ve only done field work on tracing mana and magic trails. I’m not a reader.”

  I shrugged. “You just need to give yourself a little bit of time.”

  His frown deepened. “Says the binder. When did you become an expert on seeing?”

  “I worked with a seer for three years. I get it.” He was more reluctant than I thought he would be to give it a try. “Come on, it’s our best shot at getting a fix on the elf quickly.” I gestured at the house. “Just look for the magic and mana in an item, and follow where it leads.

  I thought he was going to argue some more, but he nodded.

  We went back inside the house, and Tully began looking around.

  He searched the entry room, then moved into the living room, and finally the kitchen, searching for something. Minutes ticked by and I found myself tapping my toes, fidgeting. We couldn’t wait all night. We had to get moving. The gremlin outbreak needed to be solved, and soon.

  “We don’t have much time,” I finally said.

  “You were the one who wanted me to take the time to do this.”

  “Sure, but can you speed it up?”

  He stopped, turned, crossed his big arms across his huge chest, a mountain of muscle in black leather. “It takes time,” he said. “Just as you said, earlier.”

  I opened my mouth, but didn’t have anything to argue with. I’d pushed him to do this. He turned back to his search. Five minutes passed. I know because I stood there fidgeting the whole time. Here I’d suggested -- really, practically ordered him -- to perform a seeing spell he’d never tried before.

  Then I heard a very faint humming. He was humming quietly. Part of the spell? Tomlinson had never done that when he read an item.

  Tully said something in a language I didn’t recognize. He stared at a carafe on a glass tray, two plain white porcelain mugs beside it. The carafe was half-full of water.

  “That’s just a pitcher,” I pointed out.

  Tully ignored me. He reached with trembling fingers for the carafe, still muttering low in that unknown language.

  “It works,” he said in English. “I can see it. See the trail.”

  But a carafe. Of all the things Tully could have chosen to find an emotional connection between Therese and Sylvas. “I don’t get it,” I said.

  “Because you’re blind to what they went through,” he said.

  “Don’t tell me how I feel,” I retorted.

  Again, he ignored me, lost in his vision. “He brought that carafe to Therese, help her drink to refresh her thirst, to take her medicine, to stay alive. Not just every day, sometimes, every hour.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I demanded, my voice rising. I caught myself. What in the high heavens was wrong with me?

  Tully ignored my outburst. “I can see the emotion, the love, the connection the two of them had. It’s there in the thread of the magic and the way the mana still pools around it.”

  I shook my head. What was wrong with me that I couldn’t see how connected they were?

  Maybe because of my sister. My guts knotted up at the thought of sis. It had been my fault all those years ago. Mine. No one else. Certainly not hers. All those things we’d shared. Tennis rackets. Bikes. Even shoes and clothes. We were only a year apart. Not quite twins, but close enough. All those things I’d gotten rid of.

  I blinked.

  “Okay, I see that now,” I said quietly.

  Tully watched me with a concerned expression. “I have a trail,” he said, finally. “We can follow it.”

  “Great,” I said, straightening up and pushing the memory of my sister back into the shadows of my mind, to come out again when I next needed a double dose of guilt. “Where to?”

  Tapping on the front door interrupted Tully’s answer. I opened the door a crack. Something flew through the gap trailing sparks--a messenger sprite. It hovered between Tully and me. It wore no clothes. Its little body was sexless, like a child’s doll. Sadness tugged at me for the previous sprite, now gone. That sprite had style and personality.

  “Another gremlin outbreak is underway. At a financial bank in the northeast of Portland.” It spoke in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. It gave us the address.

  That was just off Lombard.

  “Great,” I repeated, this time with a drawn-out groan. “The other side of the river, again.”

  “How many?”

  “At this point, a single manifestation, level 2.”

  We needed to stop dancing to the tune of events, and start playing our own music. “One. I can deal with one.” I turned to Tully. “Follow your trail while you still have it.” I tapped my fingers together. “I’ll take care of the little annoyance.”

  “Splitting us up?” he asked.

  “I know, never split the party. But sometimes you have to. You have to act while you still have the trail. And we also need to deal with this latest outbreak. But if we don’t get ahead of it, things are going to continue to spiral out of control.”

  “But we haven’t arrived at a precise cause yet,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know.” We were constantly putting out fires, but never finding the arsonist. The hooded figure, he had to be involved.

  “I should go to the outbreak,” Tully said. “I have a better chance of locating the conjurer.”

  There, he’d said conjurer. There was no way around it. This wasn’t some emotional turbulence from the collective subconscious. A spell caster was conjuring gremlins,
somehow making super-charged versions, in the process.

  “You have to find Sylvas. Someone went to great lengths to try and kill us here, twice.”

  He rubbed his chin. “How are you going to get over to the bank?”

  “I’ll teleportal to the Garage and pick up a ride there.”

  “You sure you want to use your last teleportal?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice.

  I’d already used two—Illinois to Brooklyn, then Brooklyn to Portland, leaving me with just one until daylight. “No choice,” I said. “We both have to act now.” This was my last teleportal. But splitting up was the necessary thing.

  “Use your head,” I told him. “Don’t just knock down the door.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “That’s your style, not mine.”

  “Very funny. Just find him. I don’t think he’s going to resist.”

  “Understood,” he said, suddenly all military precision and no emotion, just cool, brisk efficiency. He faced the message sprite. It perched on a lamp shade, and had watched the whole back and forth without comment. “Please record that,” Tully told it.

  “Affirmative,” the sprite said, and flew off, trailing golden sparks.

  “I will report in when I find the great elf,” Tully said, still all cool, emotionless professionalism.

  “Thanks,” I said. The set of his jaw betrayed his anger—he was angry at me for making him leave, but covering it with feigned detachment.

  He nodded and opened the door.

  “One second,” I said. He turned, eyebrow raised. What I was about to ask probably wouldn’t help his mood, but I needed to request it nonetheless.

  “I need to borrow your wand.”

  His face stiffened for a moment, then he relaxed and nodded. He didn’t argue, didn’t protest, he simply reached into his coat and handed over his wand. It had brass banding, with a gold tip, and trembled when I took it in my hand. This was an extraordinary wand. There was an ivory cap at the base. A multiplier of some kind, allowing for extra uses. Normally I’d ask a joking question about how he got such a wand when I just received run of the mill. I wanted to ask, curiosity filled me. How did you end up with such a wand? But, that would just be rubbing salt in his wounds.