spells.
Bouncers grappling, punching, roaring as they ploughed into their opponents.
Glass shuddering under blows, a shimmering opalescence with every spell striking it, yet not caving in to the assault. Tiffany emerged from the boiling crowd, wrenched open a glass case.
I reached for Thaimon, missed his sleeve. Someone shoved me into the case, bruising my ribs on the hard corner.
Tiffany snared a bangle, slid it on her wrist. An ivy pattern trailed up her arm, sinking into her skin so her whole body became transparent. Within seconds the ivy had taken over and she was utterly invisible except for a faint outline which I soon lost in the too-bright lights.
The bouncer hauled on Tom's arm. Thaimon sent his fist into the bouncer's jaw. His face ruptured into cracks and he fell straight to the floor, crumbling into clay. The man had been a golem, it appeared. My spell book had a page on them. Runes animated claymations. Powerful stuff.
By the time I was on Thaimon's tail, the bouncer-golem had ceased moving. I stepped over it (him?) and caught the door before it shut behind Thaimon and Tom.
A small balcony was already crowded with escapees trying to lower a fire ladder to the balcony below. They pushed together in an annoyed cluster upon our appearance, thinking we were people just like them, seeking to avoid a drug bust.
Thaimon grabbed Tom by the throat and leaned him backwards over the railing. Tom gripped Thaimon's arm, eyes wide. Those nearest us shrieked in panic.
“Thaimon,” I said, but could tell I didn't have his attention.
“I want a name,” Thaimon said in a perfectly reasonable tone that set my nerves on end. There was something terrifying in his reserved behavior.
Tom made a choking noise.
“The name behind this request,” Thaimon said, showing the ID request to Tom. I touched Thaimon's back. Tense muscles met me, undermining the calm exterior Thaimon was displaying to the world.
Tom's face turned a deep, dark red which was quickly approaching purple.
“Don't kill him, Thaimon, don't do it.”
“A name.” Thaimon leaned in close.
Tom made another gurgling gasp.
Thaimon distinctly did not look human any longer. Black marks, smeared like warpaint applied with fingers, showed up all along his exposed hands, neck, and face. I couldn't be sure if I was alone in seeing it because everyone was giving us space now.
Tom pried at his throat.
“He can't talk if he can't breathe,” I said, surprising myself with how rational I sounded even as my heart thudded in my ears and my fingers were cold with nerves.
Another girl shrieked in horror. I held my finger to my lips. “Shh.”
I thought she would blow me off, but instead she did shh.
Nifty trick.
Tom was gazing at me, silently pleading to find a way to get this monster off him. To help him survive. To calm Thaimon. Anything at all.
So were the others.
It was cool on this side of the building, all dark shadow which took spring back to winter. The ladies in their skin hugging dresses and exposed thighs shivered violently. The slick glass siding clung to those who were pressed against it, fogging up with every breath. Traces of last week's rain muddied the surface. With the sheer drop over the edge of the metal barred railing, I knew I had no way to help Tom except with my words.
“He's a wraith. If you tell him what he wishes to know, I may be able to convince him to let you live. But if you refuse, you're at his mercy.”
A shudder ran through those who heard me. I thought they were going to turn on me.
“Tell him!” urged one voice. An agitated woman glared, blaming Tom for all their problems. In a way, she was right to do so. Tom tried to swallow. Soon other voices were adding in the fray. “Tell him so he'll go away.”
“Please, yes!”
“Do it!”
“Tell him, you rat-faced weasel!”
It was their pressure which made Tom tremble. Perhaps it was seeing that they weren't going to help him. Perhaps it was that they were actually blaming him for their predicament. Or perhaps it was the choke depriving oxygen from his brain.
Tom's lips moved.
Thaimon leaned to hear.
Tom repeated it again.
I couldn't catch it, but I saw his lips move. Once. Twice. Three times.
An odd name. Very short. A last name, probably. Lips pursed out at the first sounds, pulled back in a grimace at the end.
People were chattering with the cool wind. Beyond the door, voices came. The thumping of fists on a locked door. A burst of wind made me sway. The ground so far below us swam in my vision and I fought down dizziness.
“He's told you, Thaimon. Let him go.”
Thaimon's fist curled, Tom's skin bulging over his knuckles. I grabbed Thaimon's arm, planning on twisting his wrist if I had to to make him let go.
The door clattered, casting vibrations through the metal balcony.
People screamed.
Thaimon must have had it all planned. He didn't look back. He shoved Tom out of his way at just the right angle so he lost his balance and would have fallen over the railing if I hadn't instinctively grabbed him first.
While my hands were full, Thaimon clamored over the railing. He launched himself through the air, caught onto the poles of the ladder on the opposite building, and slid to the ground.
Wraithbane was beside me as I steadied Tom. Thaimon straightened his clothes and took off at a steady jog. Bane was clearly ready to pull the exact same stunt Thaimon had just performed. A yell came.
“Wraithbane! Brewer!”
And suddenly the balcony below us wriggled with the frantic feet of someone using the emergency stairs very rapidly. No one was visible. I remembered Tiffany and her bracelet. Thaimon's shoes beat a steady tandem as he ran.
Wraithbane snarled, lunged over the railing, and flipped onto the landing below. The next thing I saw was him soaring through air, snatching nothing, and landing on an invisible body.
I scrambled in his footsteps, leaping over the edge of the balcony, then grabbing the bottom rail to swing below. It was incredibly fulfilling to land in the same spot he had, reminding me of crazy stupid stunts I used to pull in the playground as a child.
Wide eyes met me, from both Wraithbane and the now-un-enchanted Tiffany. I took hold of the zip ties holding her wrists.
“Go, Bane. Get Thaimon if you can.”
He didn't need to be told twice. He was gone.
Jay peered over the stairs. “Got the brewer?”
“Guess so.”
“Good. Keep her for a minute.”
And then Jay was gone, too.
My moment of glory turned into many minutes of boredom. Tiffany and I stayed there waiting. The fight seemed to have gone out of her. We were left waiting as the Glitz crowd was captured one by one or in groups, clearing the path to the vans for the brewer. It wasn't until the balcony above was empty of people attempting to bribe their way out of trouble with the SWAT-team look-alikes that someone came to retrieve Tiffany. It was disorienting to have these people in masks call me by name when I didn't know them well enough to place a voice.
In the mall hallway, I caught glimpses of people being escorted out of Glitz in big black hoods. Others were wrapped up in cocoon blankets with IVs on poles. Overdoses, exhaustion, heat stress. The causes varied. While everyone else seemed to have a job to do, I felt out of place, untrained to do any first-responder things, untrained for the security posts, not permitted to speak to local law enforcement.
Out of nowhere I realized what the name had been. The pursed lips at the front had been either a -ch or -sh, then -n or -g at the end. In the middle he'd touched lower lip to his upper teeth.
F, V.
Ch-f-g made no sense. Ch-v-n wasn't bad.
But what made even more sense was to change the front sound and add a couple vowels.
I felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me.
&
nbsp; A familiar bootstep rang out on the floor below. I hastened down the escalator to find Wraithbane talking in a quick, irritated tone to Willow, who had taken off her helmet and visor. She was stripping off the rest of her armor, storing them in a plain unmarked bag.
I didn't have to ask to see if Thaimon had gotten away.
Body bags were being transported as quietly as they could out a staff exit.
This was bad.