Audric turned to us, out of fried bread to feed the ducks. Kisten opened the bag for the rest, and together we went forward while the adults argued. The sun was warm, and for a moment, we could laugh and pretend that the world was an innocent place where the only thing we needed to worry about was if feeding ducks bread softened with duck sauce was a mild form of cannibalism.
Maybe that was one of the reasons Kisten worked so hard to keep it going between us, I thought, laughing as a duck went completely under water to pop up somewhere else. There would never be any children between Kisten and me. Any child would be adopted or engendered from a one-night-stand with a witch, and free of Piscary’s attentions. Seeing Audric beside Kisten, beautiful in the sun and their easy companionship born from knowing they both shared the same curse of great power granted borne in great degradation. Sacrifice. Kisten would sacrifice all for his nephew—anything to prevent him from living the hell he endured. It was touching, beautiful, and tragic all at the same time, and I was almost in tears for lost chances and histories that could not be fixed.
Chrissie’s shout of pain lanced through us, and adrenaline surged painfully. Kisten scooped Audric up before I even turned, and I stared aghast at Sean pinching Chrissie’s arm as he held her against a tree.
“Damn him,” Kisten swore, and I suddenly found Audric in my arms. Kisten had abandoned us.
“No weapons!” Sean shouted. “He’s no good dead!”
That was just sick. I sucked in my breath and slid Audric down to stand behind me. “Audric,” I said as suddenly every vampire was moving with a slow pace of a predator angling for an ambush. “Do everything I say as fast as you can. Kisten trusts me. I can’t help you unless you trust me too.”
His little hand in mine brought a surge of strength and defiance I could only guess came from a maternal source. One I never knew I had. But it felt damn good, and I’d use it.
There would be, I thought as I scanned the park, backing up until we found the waist-high railing. Kisten was fighting them off his sister, and the two of them, clearly the bigger threat, were pulling half the vampires away from Audric and me. Five vampires on a bridge, I might be able to handle. I had to be able to handle, at least long enough to get to land where I could tap a line and do some bad-ass witchy stuff. Kisten had pulled half the threat away, not abandoned us.
Audric was between me and the railing, and falling into a fighting stance, I lifted my chin. It was all the invitation the first vamp needed.
He came at me, hands reaching. If not for my sparring with Ivy, I’d never have had a chance. I extended my hands for him to grab, and when he did, I shoved my right arm under his, taking his left arm with it. In one smooth motion, I dove under his extended arm, turned, and snapped his elbows against each other. There was a sickening crack, and part of me wondered that it had even worked as I moved to finish the move. And as the vampire howled in pain, I used his own momentum to flip him over the railing and into the shallow water.
The splash rose up the eight feet. Audric was clutching the railing, peering through the openings with awe and surprise. Below him in six inches of water, the vampire tried to get up without using his arms. Pain showed in every motion as he staggered to the shore. The van started, and I spun to make sure Audric was with me.
“Wow,” I whispered, rubbing my sore wrists, “it worked.” I’d never had the chance to use that particular move with the strength of adrenaline behind me, and I was impressed. And a little scared. But there were two now coming at me together. I couldn’t match two. It had been luck I had bested one. I needed something at my back besides a stone railing.
Pulse pounding, I scanned the park. Nothing. Just the bridge we were on. Just the bridge . . . “Jump off the bridge, Audric!” I shouted when an idea came to me. “Land on that bastard. Then tuck-in under the bridge. Wait for me.”
I heard his scramble up and over, watched his progress by following the eyes of the vampires left, listened and smiled at the pained huff of sound coming from the man he landed on.
“You two get the van started,” the front vamp said, then touched his companion’s shoulder. “You’re with me.”
The two vampires rushed me. Gasping, I flung myself over the railing, palms scraping on the cement. I landed on the vampire already down there, and he screamed in agony. “Sorry,” I panted, then rolled off him. Twin splashes of sound told me the two vampires had followed me. Water soaked me, and heavy with it, I staggered up.
“Audric!” I shouted, then lunged to the small shadow hiding under the bridge. “Good boy,” I said, pushing him behind me until his back was against the upward curving side of the bridge. He was shaking, and I vowed they wouldn’t touch him. Not if I had breath in me.
Kisten was shouting from somewhere, and over that was the faint wail of a siren. The vampires facing me here heard it too. They exchanged looks and grinned to show their fangs.
“Get my boy!” Sean yelled from the top of the bridge, and the two men with their feet in the water attacked.
“Oh, hell no!” I shouted, hitting the first one in the gut, but the second one had me.
Agony flamed in my arm as it was twisted backward, and someone’s breath was in my ear. “Got you now, witchy,” that same someone said.
Feet almost off the rocky streambed, I hung in his grip, teeth clenched and straining. Before me, Audric fought like a child as the other vampire tucked him under his arm. This is not going to happen.
“Let me down!” I demanded, and the one holding me laughed. Right until I slammed my head back into his teeth.
Screaming, he threw me away from him. I hit the shore hard, my right palm catching most of the impact on a smooth rock. Pain flared to my skull. They were laughing. Audric was yelling in fear. Slowly I got up and turned around, one foot in the water, the other on the shore. Throwing me away had been a big mistake. Huge. Up to now, I was just a woman with a good roundhouse. Now I was a woman with a good roundhouse and a hell of a lot of magic.
“Idiot,” I said, smiling grimly, and then I tapped the nearest ley line.
I was almost standing in it, which was good since it was hardly a line at all, weak from the manmade lake running right over it. I yanked on the line, demanding more, and the power surged as if the distant ends curled in on themselves, condensing. My fingertips tingled, and if my hair weren’t sopping wet, it would be floating from static. Something must have showed in my eyes because the one holding Audric paled. The sirens were getting closer, but they were not close enough.
“You first,” I said, pointing. “Put him down or—”
He didn’t listen. I heard a van door open and someone shouting to hurry up. They both went for it.
“Consimilis calefacio!” I shouted, and a wave of steam rose up between them and the bank when a bathtub size portion of water flashed to boiling. I staggered at the draw of energy through me needed to do it, but they halted, shocked and surprised. Pushing myself up, I screamed, “Drop the kid, or I’ll turn your balls into apple dumplings!”
That they listened to, though I didn’t know the charm to heat living tissue. That would be a black curse, and despite what the papers said I was still a white witch. Audric cried out when they dropped him and he fell into the cool water that had replaced the evaporation. The vampires ran like bunnies on fire, up the steep embankment and out of my line of sight. The van peeled out with a scattering of stones, and I heard the wailing of an I.S. cruiser tear through the lot following it. Another followed close behind, and the distinctive sound of an I.S. radio added to the din.
“Audric!” Chrissie screamed, the heartrending sound tearing through me. She thought she had lost him. “Kisten, they have my baby. They have my little boy!”
I stumbled into the water toward Audric. Immediately my connection to the line, weak at best, dropped. Along with it went my strength. It was over. That fast, it was done. Smiling, I held my hand out to Audric, stunned and staring at me with wide eyes. “Come on, Audric,” I said, holding
my hand out.
Audric’s gaze went to the bridge overhead. “Look out!” he cried, and I jumped back, pulse jerking. Sean hit the shallow water in a belly flop right where I had been. Groaning, he levered himself up. Blood spurted from his nose and made a red stream. Gasping, I looked to see Kisten above me at the railing, smiling.
“Thanks,” I said, shaking from the adrenaline spike, and he grinned wider.
“I’ve got your back, Rachel,” he said. “Never forget that. I knew where you were the entire time.” His eyes went to Audric. “Come on, Sport. Your mom’s about ready to have a cow.”
I held my hand out to the little boy. Audric looked at it for a moment, then smiled. The soft feel of his fingers in mine was better than a letter of thanks from the head of the I.S. tower. He was going to be okay. They wouldn’t be back. The I.S. had showed, meaning we were under the grace of Piscary and were protected. Well, at least Chrissie and Audric were. I doubt very much that Piscary would let the I.S. save my butt, seeing as I was the one who put him in jail.
I pulled Audric up in a splash of water, and together we slogged our unsteady way to the opposite shore. “We’re down here!” I shouted, and Chrissie’s cry of joy was enough to bring tears to my eyes.
“Audric!” she exclaimed, sliding down the embankment and pulling him to her. His hand slipped from mine, and I felt an unexpected feeling of loss. I stood alone as she held him close, crying and rocking him as if he was back from the dead. On the bridge were two uniformed I.S. agents, weapons pointed at Sean.
The vampire pulled himself up out of the water, disgust in his every motion. Water dripped from him as he wiped the blood from his nose with a wet handkerchief, then he let it drop to float dramatically away into the deeper water. He glanced up at the officers, and waved bitterly to acknowledge their demand to get out of the water with his hands on the back of his head. Another officer waited at the shore, and the sound of the vamp-proof cuffs ratcheting close never sounded better.
“It’s a sad day when a master vampire uses a witch to keep his children safe,” Sean snarled as he was led away, and my gaze shot to Kisten, still at the apex of the bridge. Sean thought I worked for Piscary?
I laughed, and the wary slant to Sean’s eyes grew deeper, more threatening.
Chrissie was making a very loud statement to the officer before her, using lots of adjectives and clutching Audric to her so tight that the little boy was squirming with little complaints. I slogged to the embankment, bone tired. Kisten was there, and he helped me up until I was leaning against the bridge support. I gingerly felt my arm for the bruise that was bound to show. So much for a quiet breakfast at the park.
“I never thought I’d be happy to see the I.S.,” I said as I dug my soggy ID out of a back pocket and flashed it at them. Satisfied, they moved off to give me space to collect myself before I made a statement. “Thanks for getting that last one.”
Kisten put an arm around me, soggy clothes and all. “I told you, Rachel,” he said in my ear to start a warm spot in me. “I’ve got your back. Nothing alive will ever hurt you if I have breath in me. And nothing dead will hurt you if I don’t.”
He leaned in to give me a kiss, and this time, I let him, my lips moving against his to turn it into a spine-tingling, stomach quivering kiss that delved deep and set my pulse racing.
The old couple on the bench gave a cheer, and I broke from him, embarrassed. One of them had a camera phone, and I looked away when it flashed.
“Crap,” I muttered, then thought, the hell with it. I could feel Kisten press against me through my wet clothes. Eyes closing, I wrapped my arms about his neck and kissed him again, deeper.
“Apple dumplings?” he murmured when the kiss broke, buzzing my ear with his lips to make the tingles his kiss started flash anew, and I smiled.
“They’re really good for breakfast,” I said, and with his arm over my shoulder, we hobbled back to my car.
Ley Line Drifter
Ley Line Drifter was first published in the anthology Unbound. I had been playing with the idea of dryads for years and thought that it was time to see how the Hollows could shape the concept of tree spirits. Though trees abound in Cincinnati, the idea of using a statue as a prison caught my interest, and from there the usually passive, feminine image of a tree spirit evolved into more of a savage, innocent Amazon.
This was also a chance to see the world from Jenks’s eye, something I’d wanted to do for a long time. Throwing Bis into the mix was the icing on the cake. Rachel still doesn’t know how her smallest spell pot got dented, and she probably never will.
ONE
The dim gloom was heavy in the lower level of Jenks’s stump, only the high ceiling of the cavernous great room still holding the fading haze of the setting sun. Working by the glow of his dragonflylike wings, Jenks hovered in the wide archway leading to the storerooms, feet dangling and shoulders aching as he smoothed a nick from the lintel. The smell of last year’s garden drifted up past him: musty dandelion fluff, dried jasmine blossoms, and the last of the sweet clover used for their beds. Matalina was a traditionalist and didn’t like the foam he’d cut from a sofa he’d found at the curb last fall.
The rasping of his lathe against the living oak only accentuated the absence of his kids; the quiet was both odd and comforting after a winter spent in his human-size partner’s church. Shifting his lower wings to push the glowing, silver pixy dust upward to light his work, Jenks ran a hand across the wood to gauge the new, decorative curve. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Tink’s panties, she’ll never know,” he whispered, pleased. The gouge his daughter had made while chasing her brother was now rubbed out. All that was needed was to smooth it, and his beautiful and oh-so-clever wife would never know. Or at least she’d never say anything.
Satisfied, Jenks tilted his wings and darted to his tools. He would’ve asked his daughter to fix the archway, but it took cold metal, and at five Jolivia didn’t yet have the finesse to handle toxic metal. Spilling more dust to light his well-used tools, he chose an emery board, swiped from Rachel’s bathroom.
Late March, he thought as he returned to his work, the sparse sawdust mixing with his own pixy dust as he worked in the silence and chill. Late March, and they still hadn’t moved back into the garden from Rachel’s desk, on loan for the winter. The days were warm enough, and the nights would be fine with the main hearth lit. Cincinnati’s pixies were long out of hibernation, and if they didn’t move into the garden soon, someone might try to claim it. Just yesterday his kids had chased off three fairy scouts lurking about the far graveyard wall.
Breath held against the oak dust, Jenks wondered how many children he would lose this fall to romance and how it would affect the garden’s security. Not much now, with only eight children nearing the age of leaving. Next year, though, eleven more would join them, with no newlings to replace them.
A burst of anxious motion from his wings lit a larger circle to show the winter-abandoned cushions about the main central hearth, but it wasn’t until a sudden commotion at the ground-floor tunnel entrance that he spilled enough dust to light the edges to show the shelves, cupboards, and hooks built right into the living walls of the stump. “If there’s no snapped wings or bones sticking out, I don’t want to hear about it!” he shouted, his mood brightening as he recognized his children’s voices.
“Papa. Papa!” Jerrimatt, one of his youngest sons, shouted in excitement as he darted in, trailing silver dust. “We caught an intruder at the street wall! He wouldn’t leave, even when we scared him! He said he wanted to talk to you. He’s a poacher, I bet, and I saw him first!”
Jenks rose, alarmed. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Naww,” the suddenly dejected boy said as he tossed his blond hair in a credible mimicry of his dad. “I know the rules. He had red on.”
Exhaling, Jenks let his feet touch the ground as, in a noisy mob, Jack, Jhem, Jumoke, and Jixy pushed a fifth pixy wing-stumbling into the
room.
“He was on the fence,” Jixy said, roughly shoving the stranger again to make his wings hum, and she touched her wooden sword, ready to smack him if he made to fly. She was the eldest in the group, and she took her seniority seriously.
“He was looking at our flower beds,” Jumoke added. The dark-haired pixy’s scowl made him look fiercer than usual, adding to his unusual dark coloring.
“And he was lurking!” Jack exclaimed. If there was trouble, Jack would be in it.
The five were on sentry detail this evening, and Jenks set the emery board aside, eyeing his own sword of pixy steel nearby. He would rather have it on his hip, but this was his home, damn it. He shouldn’t need to wear it inside. Yet here he was with a strange pixy in his main room.
Jerrimatt, all of three years old, was flitting like a firefly on Brimstone. Reaching up, Jenks caught his foot and dragged him down. “He is wearing red,” Jenks reminded him, glad they hadn’t drawn blood from the hapless pixy, wide-eyed and scared. “He gets passage.”
“He doesn’t want passage,” Jerrimatt protested, and Jixy nodded. “He was just sitting there! He says he wants to talk to you.”
“Plotting,” Jixy added suspiciously. “Hiding behind a color of truce. He’s pixy trash.” She threatened to smack him, stopping only when Jenks sent his wings clattering in disapproval.
The intruder stood with his feet meekly on the floor, his wings closed against his back, and glancing uneasily at Jumoke. His red hat of truce was in his hands, fingers going around and around the brim. “I wasn’t plotting,” he said indignantly. “I have my own garden.” Again, his gaze landed on Jumoke in question, and Jenks felt a prick of anger.
“Then why are you looking at ours?” Jhem demanded, oblivious to the intruder’s prejudice against Jumoke’s dark hair and eyes. But when Jhem went to push him, Jenks buzzed a warning again. Eyes down, Jhem dropped back. His children were wonderful, but it was hard to teach restraint when quick sword-point justice was the only reason they survived.