90_Minutes_to_Live (29 page)

To Cain’s new sense, it was almost overwhelming. The heat of its power burned angrily, emanating up from deep beneath the ground. Given its appearance, he caught himself starting to think of it as the exposed end of a bone, jutting right out of the earth itself. But that was of course ridiculous; nothing had bones that big. He swallowed, ignoring his nerves. “Quite something, isn’t it?”

Maria said nothing, keeping as far away from the twisted fixture as the cord would allow. Cain nodded to himself, understanding. Out in the world this kind of power tended to be controlled, sanitized. Charms and potions kept it mostly predictable. But here was its wild edge, a channel to vast, terrible reserves. If it were to be released in the wrong way, there would be no telling what it could do to those in its path. If that happened, Cain would be lucky merely to die.

The air had a thickness to it, a power-tinge to the very shaft of light in which they bathed. The height of a bright blue moon was imminent and he needed to be ready. Carefully he took out the tin case, gingerly extracting the lock of hair within. Maria stepped closer, nervous interest in her gaze.

“That’s old hair,” she stated calmly. “It looks dull and brittle.”

“It doesn’t matter. As I said before, he should be revived exactly as he was when the hair was cut from him.”

“After all of this time? How will he deal with losing those years?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I hope you can make it better for him. Stop him from trying to seek out what he has lost, if you can,” he felt suddenly sad but tried to hide it from his captive. He had no need for her pity.

Turning, he carefully placed the hair in a small alcove towards the top of the structure. “There,” he whispered. “Now we just wait. Not long to go.”

They stood in awkward silence, which Cain finally broke by fiddling with the end of the cord round his arm. After a few seconds, it came off and he let it fall to the ground. Maria looked up at him, startled.

“You look surprised. Don’t be. The cord is attuned to me, so once I die it will fall off you and you’ll be completely free. If you wanted you could run away now but I imagine you are curious enough to stay and watch what happens.” It pleased him she no longer showed any signs of wanting to escape. “I would recommend taking the cord with you. You won’t be able to use it without getting it attuned to you by a specialist but it should fetch a decent price. Same with the charms. Consider it payment for your services.”

She flashed him an unfriendly look but relented. “I will.”

“Right,” he sighed. “I think it’s just about time.”

As if to confirm his words, the air shimmered. Maria took three long steps back.

“You should be fine out of the moonlight,” Cain reassured her.

Then something occurred to him and he started taking off his boots. Without the slightest embarrassment, he swiftly stripped down, piling his clothes before him. He saw Maria conflicted between the urge to turn away for modesty’s sake and the desire to keep him where she could see him. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, I’m sure.”

She refused to dignify that with an answer. Instead, she looked him firmly in the face. “I still hate you,” she stated. Cain imagined she was emboldened by the fact he no longer had the cord to jerk her around.

“I would expect nothing less,” he sneered. “I’m a thief, a murderer, a rapist. The world is better off without me.” To his irritation, he realized he was stating this to reassure himself rather than her.

“I don’t care about your redemption.”

“That’s fine. All I ask is that you care about the boy. And I know that you will.”

“I think I might teach him to hate you.”

It was clearly meant to sting but Cain allowed himself to take it seriously. “If you want to Maria, then that’s fine. Just keep him good, remember.”

Her defiant eyes softened. “I’ll try.”

And then the moon reached its height. Instantly the shaft of moonlight changed its nature, a powerful, watery blue mixed with streaks of white radiance. At the height of a bright blue moon, the whole world below is bathed in energy. In this place, that meant the conduit down into the planet was awakened. Cain’s bare skin practically burned in the glow.

He saw Maria retreating, back to where they had left the charms, still watching the events unfold. He nodded to her but could not tell whether she had seen. He turned back to the structure, which seemed almost alive with the fluctuating illumination twisting before him. He knew this period of grace would last only a minute or so.

He reached the squirming mass, feeling it for the flaw, which must now be there. He found it, a jagged edge, grasped it and pulled. A shard came off in his hand, just as the tales had all said. He allowed himself to turn it once in his hands, admiring the beauty and then steeled himself, grasping it.

He thrust the sharp end into his heart.

Immediately blinding white light pulsed behind his eyes. He had a moment of visual clarity to observe the blood pumping out over his hands, and he reached to place them on the structure before falling forward into it. His blood smeared over the ivory surface, completing the connection. His vision gone, he felt his life judder to a halt.

*   *   *

Maria shuddered in horror as she saw Cain stab himself but refused to look away as he fell forward. As he connected with the structure the moonlight went crazy, streaks of power obscuring her view as the ivory turned brilliant white. Finally, too bright, she had to shield her eyes.

With no noise, no drama, the moon passed from the height of the sky and the shaft of light returned to normal, as it had been when they had first arrived at the Glade. Immediately her bindings fell from her, exactly as Cain had described. She stayed still, nerves still screaming, stretching her arms. Then she stepped forward softly, taking her time in case this was only a temporary reprieve. Soon enough she overcame her caution and, with a deep breath, stepped into the light.

Cain was gone, but there was the pile of his clothes, completely untouched. Beyond them was the structure, just as it had been before...except,
something
was different. She started to shake as she realized it had a new bulge to it, indistinguishable from the rest of the mass, exactly where Cain had come to rest. It had claimed its price.

She was still taking this in when a movement in the corner of her eye startled her. Her head shot up and she met the gaze of a face looking round the side of the structure. She took a breath.

“Hello there,” she managed.

“Hello.” A boy, pre-pubescent from the sound of it. Just as Cain had said. “Um, I don’t have any clothes.”

Maria laughed nervously. “Well, don’t worry. There are some here for you.”

Carefully she retrieved Cain’s clothes and passed them round to the boy, making a show of looking the other way.
His
modesty she would respect.

A minute or so later the boy stepped out, his new tunic, trousers and coat comically big on him. She considered offering to swap with him; who was there in the forest to complain about him wearing women’s clothes? Then she remembered Cain in his last moments and had no desire to strip anywhere near the Glade.

The boy was looking at the structure, some kind of awe on his face. “This must all be extremely strange,” Maria started, wondering how to explain. “This place, well, it’s....”

“This is the Glade,” the boy whispered, almost reverently. He looked at her. “It really exists!” he shook his head. “Just now, just a minute ago, I cut a lock of my hair to save. But I didn’t think...I didn’t really think....”

He paused, so lost in thought that he didn’t seem to notice Maria’s eyes widening. “Can you tell me,” he finally asked, “how I died?”

The curious pleading was so full of innocence. Maria sunk to the ground, exhausted and defeated. Cain’s redemption was complete. It was written in his face.

THE END

Baby Girl

(Paranormal)

By

Nu Yang

Julia McKinley's night of studying demons was interrupted by a phone call from her father.

“Chicken or fish?” he asked.

“What?” she kept her attention on the illustration of the Pukwudgie troll on her MacBook screen instead of the brown leather-bound book next to her, which she should have been reading. A number eight on its side—the Egyptian symbol for infinity—was the only design on the large book’s cover.

“I thought I'd pick you up some tacos from Willie's,” her father said. “You must be hungry by now.”

The time on her laptop told her it was almost nine. As soon as she realized how late in the night it was, her stomach growled, reminding her she had missed dinner. She leaned back in her chair at the kitchen table. “You buying?”

Her father chuckled. “Of course, Baby Girl.”

“Then I want steak tacos.”

Her father laughed.

It warmed her heart to hear the sound. Since her father left rehab two months ago, she believed he was heading in the right direction. He hadn't touched any alcohol in almost six months and he regularly attended his AA meetings and met with his sponsor, who had helped him get a job working maintenance at an apartment complex. Julia was proud of him for wanting to get better.

Her gaze drifted to the glossy photograph stuck on her refrigerator with a purple and gold L.A. Lakers magnet. Her father, with his black hair, mustache and dark eyes, smiled brightly at the camera. His arm wrapped around her mother, a petite woman with long black hair and smooth cocoa skin. Family members always told Julia she looked just like her mother. Maybe that's why after her mother died, her father had distanced himself from her. She could only watch helplessly as he turned to alcohol to make the pain go away. Now, she wanted to make sure whenever he had a problem, he would come to her instead.

“Are you watching TV?” her father asked.

“I'm working on a project for work,” she clicked her mouse to navigate to another web page. “Someone came into the library today wanting to know about Native American trolls.”

“Well, take a break and turn on your TV.”

“Why? What’s on?” Julia switched her iPhone to her other ear and moved from her kitchen to her living room. She plopped down on the couch next to her gray Siamese cat. Lulu lifted her blue eyes at Julia, as though annoyed her nap had been interrupted. Julia used the remote to turn on her flatscreen. “CNN, I assume.” Her father tuned in daily to the twenty-four hour news outlet.

“That bastard Salazar is talking to Piers Morgan,” her father said.

When Julia flipped to the channel, she saw Gideon Salazar sitting across from the interviewer, smiling with his teeth. Julia had only been a few months old when the supernatural
También
came out into the open thirty years ago. Named after the Spanish word for
also
, the También no longer wanted to hide, as though ashamed of their natures. They wanted peace, unity, freedom and a chance to prosper and raise their families like humans. Some of them stuck to that plan, working nine to five office jobs and settling in a nice house. But the majority of them kept on doing what they did best—cause chaos.

Salazar, the jaguar shapeshifter, had been one of the first supernatural beings to go public. He was also the first to use the phrase También during a press conference. The media used it so often it unofficially became the group's name. From what Julia saw from the interviews he gave, Salazar loved the spotlight. He was always handsomely dressed in a suit with his slicked-back hair, olive skin and soft brown eyes; but when he spoke, his stern voice commanded everyone's attention. There was talk he might run for Congress in the next election year.

Piers was asking Salazar about the recent riot at a demon-owned nightclub in Seattle, which had resulted in five dead demons.

“We do not condone this type of behavior,” Salazar told Piers. “Hate crimes on demons have doubled this past year. Each unresolved case is a blemish in our justice system.”

The screen cut to Al Sharpton, who in recent years had taken it upon himself to stand up for También rights.

“I don't know why anyone else can't see it,” her father said. “Salazar is a phony.”

“Like every other politician in this country,” Julia added.

“You got a point there,” she heard her father's keys jiggle. “Listen, I'll go grab some tacos from Willie's-”

“Remember—steak.”

“Yeah, yeah...I'll go grab your
steak
tacos and come over to your place, all right?”

“Sounds good,” she stretched her arms over her head. Forget studying. Spending the rest of the night with her dad, Willie's tacos and a bad sci-fi TV movie sounded much better.

“Okay Baby Girl, I'll see—hold on, someone's at the door,” she heard the floorboards creak as her father crossed his wooden floor, then—“What the-” Her father cried out and there was a loud clang as he dropped his phone.

“Dad?” Julia jumped from the couch. A startled Lulu leapt with her. “Dad, what's going on?”

“Grab him.” A man's deep voice came from the other line.

“Dad!” But the call ended. She quickly hit send to redial her father's number. No one picked up. “Shit!”

For a moment, she couldn't move inside her apartment. Four white walls closed in on her and Salazar's voice from the TV screen faded.

“Grab him.”

The unknown voice sent a shiver down her back. Someone had taken her father. Someone, who sounded dangerous. Her hands curled into fists at her side. She raced back into her kitchen and grabbed her leather-bound book. For trouble like this, she needed something more old school. She ran to her door, stepped into a pair of tennis shoes and grabbed her car keys.

As she headed to her parked Honda Civic, she called a number. “Hey,” she pleaded when the other person answered. “Can you meet me at my dad's place in ten minutes? Oh, and bring your book. ”

*   *   *

Located in between Los Angeles and San Diego, Stockland was the typical Southern California city, with beaches, tourists and supernatural beings. It only took a couple of years before the También migrated from the big cities and began to populate suburbia.

Julia raced her Honda down the 405 with her windows open. The wind blowing at her face didn't help; her heart pounded, her palms sweated and her jumbled mind searched for answers. She needed a clear head, which was why she had called Sam Harper and told him what had happened. Sam was a librarian like her and he was a damned good one. He worked with the local police departments on solving cases involving the También, because he seemed to know everything about them. Julia wasn't sure if his fascination with them was professional or morbid but right now, she needed his brain.

When she arrived at her father's house Sam was already waiting for her. He got out of his black jeep dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, carrying his book. Standing more than six feet tall, he looked like a giant compared to her smaller frame. So maybe she needed him for his muscles too. She met Sam five years ago, after she graduated university and started her first job at Stockland's Public Library. She was surprised to find someone like Sam, with his dreadlocks and steel gray eyes, working as a librarian. She asked him once why he had become one. He simply said, “I like books.” Just the plain, honest truth. From then on, she knew she could trust him.

“Thanks for coming,” she said, approaching him with her book tucked under her arm.

His face softened. “We should go to the police, Jules.”

“No offense Sam, but I don't have time to wait around for cops to dust for fingerprints.”

She moved toward her father's house. It wasn't the same one where she had grown up with her parents but it was still a home to her. She loved coming over after work, for dinner and CNN. Her father's white Chevy pick-up truck sat in the driveway. She gestured to the front door and Sam followed cautiously. She didn't own a gun and the only self-defense moves she knew came from a class she took a year before, but she could recite a few spells from memory, including one that would make cockroaches crawl out of someone's mouth. That might come in handy.

Julia turned the knob and the door opened for her. She scanned the living room but only saw the second-hand furniture she and her father had picked out together after he returned home from rehab. Silver moonlight trickled in through the open blinds. She flipped on the switch and noticed her father's set of keys on the floor. She knelt down to pick them up. Her fingers traced over the photo keychain of her mother holding her as a baby.

“Do you smell that?” Sam asked behind her.

She sniffed. The air reeked of rotten eggs. “Sulfur,” she rose and studied the room again. This time, she saw more than furniture; she saw a crime scene.

She walked over to the coffee table, clearing off her father's copy of the
Los Angeles Times
. “What do you know about retrieval spells?” she set her book on the table.

“I know whoever casts those spells is pretty damned crazy,” Sam said. She ignored his comment and placed her hand on the infinity symbol on the book's cover.

When librarians received their books, they picked out their own symbol representing themselves, making each book unique. Her book's flap opened with her touch. Librarians had a blood-bond with their books, like a magical library card granting them access to the pages. For librarians who graduated from university, it was their way to safeguard their knowledge, so no one with the wrong intentions could get access to what was inside; they filled each book with their own studies.

Julia's hands hovered over the pages and they began to turn one by one. By using her bond, she didn't need a table of contents to find the spell she needed.

Sam sighed and sat beside her. “What kind of retrieval spell are you looking for?”

“A moment in time,” she said, watching the pages turn.

He placed his hand on the Japanese character for “brave and valiant.” His book opened and the pages flipped, searching for the spell.

The sound of turning pages echoed in the quiet house. Julia lowered her hands and waited.

Please
. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep.
Please help me find what happened to my father.

Silence filled the room. She opened her eyes to find both books open to a single page: “To Retrieve a Moment in Time.”

She met Sam's steady gaze and together, they lowered their heads and read the spell.

*   *   *

Ten minutes later, Julia was prepared to find who had knocked on her father's door. She sat on the wooden floor in the front corridor and lit two candles with a lighter. She placed the keychain with the picture of her mother and herself as a baby next to the candles and placed her hands inches above the warm flames. The heat prickled the inside of her palms. Sam watched from a distance, tight-lipped with his arms crossed.

“We're librarians Jules. We find spells, not cast them,” he said. “What makes you think this will work?”

“Because it has to.”

Because she knew of no other way.

With a deep breath, she recited the spell. “Take these remnants from the past. Show us what was seen last. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Into your memory, I give you my trust.” The candle flames turned bright blue and a chill shot down her back.

“Jules....” Sam took a step forward with his arms at his sides.

“It's okay,” she said, catching her breath. “I'm okay.” She wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Sam—or herself.

She kept her hands over the blue flames and repeated the words. This time, a blast of cold air slapped her in the face. Sam jumped back as the temperature dropped.

“You need to stop,” he said.

Her heavy breathing echoed in the quiet room. Maybe Sam was right; she was just a librarian, not a spell caster.

She lowered her hands to her lap. “It didn't-” she hunched over as a sharp pain dug itself into the back of her head.

“Julia?” Sam rushed to her side.

She groaned as another painful jolt slammed in between her eyes. She convulsed in Sam's arms and her eyes rolled back until she saw the ceiling.

Grab him!

This time, it wasn't her memory speaking.

*   *   *

Julia stood in her father's front hallway. Her father was on his knees, holding his face. His car keys and his cell phone lay on the floor next to him.

“Dad, what's going on?” Her voice screamed from the other line.

Julia looked up to the doorway to see a large figure enter. He looked human with his blue jeans and hooded sweatshirt, but then she noticed the two black horns jutting out from his temples. She couldn't place his species but he had to belong to some kind of bull-spirit hybrid. He picked up her father's cell phone and flipped the cover closed, disconnecting the call. Then, his aqua blue eyes focused on her fallen father.