Illusion (9 page)

Her face felt stiff, and she realized she’d canted forward, so close she could smell the musk of mage under the incense. She knuckled her chest. “I’m not an enchantress. I’ve never heard of dimensional travel because, believe me, there’s plenty of times I wanted to escape this shithole.” He flinched but she was on a roll. “I didn’t mean to animate the picture, and I have nothing to do with a group of exiled ancients.”

His lip curled before something like sympathy shifted in his eyes, softening his features.

“Whether or not it’s intentional is irrelevant. From your pictures we thought you knew of Balkaith. But if not, you must be a
Coelhos
, a creature who can reflect the thoughts and actions of realities. Unusual, but not unheard of.”

She shook her head slowly.

“Twenty years ago, before the Mage Wars, you couldn’t have conceived of magic existing, either.”

“Sure. We have daily reminders of magi—they’ve always been here. Hidden throughout history, a secret cult. Usually at the bottom of every atrocity or war. But I’m not one of them, nor are black holes waiting to transport us to a parallel universe.”

“Of course not. Only the strongest of ritual magic will enable you to cross the Abyss.”

She looked at him, wondering how much she was really taking in. The room was taking on a blurred, fuzzy cast. The floor swayed.

“You are plying the forbidden arts, thinning the veil between worlds. My people could help you master your craft. All magical creatures are either attracted to darkness or light. We have many guilds in Balkaith. Several would welcome you. You have choices.”

“If Horus and Anu think I can unsettle the balance of power they’ll use me to harm the other House.” It would be another war on Earth with her in the middle. She grabbed her queasy stomach.

“Yes, it would seem so.” He looked troubled, the first hint she’d had of any weakness, and for some reason his brutal honesty reassured her.

“And you guys want a shot at me as well,” she murmured.

“We’re not interested in Earth politics. As long as they don’t break the Covenant.”

She looked sideways, wondering if he knew what she was about to say.

“I’m not going to your world. I’m an artist, not a mage. If I have magic, it’s unpredictable, and I’m not going to be the only outsider in a group of magical beings who don’t give a stuff if I live or die.”

He looked at her curiously but said nothing. She felt vulnerable, as if she had told him something about herself that should have been kept private.

He stood next to her and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Then his knuckles fisted, and he raised his head.

“Go. Run. I’ll find you.” He dragged her by her elbow to the window. With his other hand, he brushed her herbs to the floor. Pots crashed into tiny pieces, spilling dirt.

Pulling open the sash, he pushed her roughly through the opening onto the metal ledge. There was a fire escape and, far down below, a blanket of darkness. Hell in a handbasket. Her mouth cracked open in surprise and outrage, but he turned his back on her to face the room. A cold breeze rippled over her skin, raising gooseflesh.

A thumping resonance pounded under her feet. She clutched the balustrade for balance. The apartment vibrated, hairline cracks snaking up the walls. She edged sidewise to see around his shoulders, and something crackled like lightning striking.

Resheph muttered in Latin and leaned forward. The old floorboards buckled, heaving and rolling with a thunderous sound. The room shuddered as thin black razors tore through the wood.

Three dark creatures dragged themselves through the jagged hole, talons clicking on the broken wood as they gained purchase on the ruined floor. Black and winged with leathery skins, they stood over eight feet tall, an ugly mismatch of animal and human parts. A jackal, a vulture, and a bull.

Their eyes glowed with malevolence as they stared at Resheph. One opened its mouth, letting loose a piercing shriek, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth.

Resheph crouched low in the same position, not moving at all, hand reached out to the bed.

“Keep still.” His voice remained quiet and controlled. The room swayed and her hand slipped off the handrail. She groped behind her back for support.

The creatures separated. They sauntered confidently, haunches rippling with muscle and power. Maya shivered as one growled inhumanly. The low, heinous tone vibrated in her brain and ran down her spine. Terror immobilized her feet to the iron grill, while her brain shrieked,
Run.

They stank of rotting flesh and brine. Evil and hatred flared from black-slitted pupils and red irises. A whimper started to rise in her throat, but she stifled it before it could escape.

She wished she could bolt down the ladder and disappear but her legs shook so hard the grate wobbled. The jackal-faced beast opened its beak. It spoke to her. The sly whisper slithered through her mind, reached for her, sounded like a curse. A black tongue shaped consonants and vowels around evil words. She didn’t understand the meaning, but it looked directly at her. A keen intelligence swirled in its eyes, and magic wrapped around the room, choking the air with steam.

Resheph stood up between her and the beasts, and shoved her bag behind his back at her. She took an automatic step in shock, nearly slipping off the small ledge. Her fingers brushed canvas before the bag fell, clattering and bouncing off the rungs, falling to the street below.

In one rapid movement he drew his sword and thrust forward. The beast hissed as blood sprayed from its chest, sizzling as it hit the floor and walls, eating into the faded wallpaper. The wound gaped and Maya stared, transfixed in horror. The torn flesh closed in rapid regeneration. The other beasts screamed and hesitated before breaking rank and rushing Resheph.

A loud banging from the apartment door broke through the chaos, and it took a second for the muffled shouts of Jane and her landlord to register in her numb ears.

“God no,” she screamed. “Jane. Leave!”

She heard a bloodcurdling bellow as Resheph swung his sword high, decapitating the bull. The monstrous head flew across the room to thud against the wall, leaving a splatter of sinew on the wallpaper. He twisted the sword and flung a bolt of energy from the tip. It hit the regenerating beast in the chest, forcing it backward. Talons rasped against the boards. Resheph released the compulsion, drew a sigil in the air, and bounded to the window, a beast on his heels. A semitransparent warrior in glowing white chain mail appeared, swinging a massive broadsword. He stepped forward, slashing and cutting at the regenerating beasts, pushing them back. Resheph dived through the window just as a beast’s talon reached forward, swiping along his back.

Maya held up both hands in defense and for a moment they burned with a luminous glow, revealing the bones beneath. The room shuddered and she lost her footing, her body hitting the steel bar. She pinwheeled, losing balance, and the momentum arched her over the balustrade. There was a flutter of wings on her cheek and claws bit hard into her shoulder, tugging her forward. A raven cawed and flew into the room. Something splintered and the beasts screamed as the ground rumbled, thwacking the grate beneath her feet. Clouds of dust billowed through the window from her apartment, blinding her. The left side of her skull tightened and her headache unraveled into god-awful skull pain, with flashing lights and the noxious odor of burning plastic.

The floor had collapsed, taking the beasts with it. Resheph dragged her to the swaying stairs, towing her to the street below. All the while screams and shouts came from her open window above, and his blood dripped like a trail of breadcrumbs in a child’s fairy tale.

Lebartu

Resheph dragged Maya to an intersection fifty feet or so from her apartment and gestured with one hand. A blurred, concave aperture appeared. Inside, a growing number of dots buzzed and flickered. He pushed her through unceremoniously with a hard shove in the middle of her back.

A cloud of ozone bloomed in her nostrils along with a stream of euphoria, easing her migraine. Then the world grew dim, falling into pale gray, and her heart thumped once, twice—too loud in her ears.

A howling wind tugged at her clothes, whipping her hair, and she was struck with a terrible blend of vertigo and nonreality. She patted her body, trying to place it in space. Her arms curved in a grotesque way and she clasped her translucent stomach. The lack of perspective poured through her consciousness just as up turned down or sideways, and she fell with dizzying speed. She opened her mouth to scream, but something like anesthetic poured through her veins. A bitter taste hit her tongue. She saw double—split versions of herself in different places of time—a tiny figure left behind on the wet pavement and her current self, tumbling in a gray vortex.

“Heeelp.” Her shout disappeared into a vacuum.

Please, let my atoms meet up in the right order.
She stumbled onto an unforgiving surface with a thump. Her legs collapsed and she fell on her backside. She held the heel of her hand to her head, moaning in pain. When the world stopped spinning, she found herself in an unfamiliar room with Resheph’s hot, dry fingers wrapped around her own. She pulled away, ears ringing, patting her skin to reassure herself that she still existed. Her mouth felt thick and dry. The room narrowed to a small arrow containing twitching jeans-clad legs and white tile. She fumbled in her back pocket for her spells.

“You could’ve warned me,” she whimpered.

Fingers pressed into the back of her skull, and after an excruciating moment of pain, the pressure eased. She exhaled as normal sight returned. She turned her head carefully, hearing the crunch of vertebrae, and squinted at her new surroundings. Mint-colored curtains covered a large plate-glass window. A white kitchen, modern lounge suite, and a massive bed coexisted in stark luxury in one open living space. The white walls and black furniture made her eyes hurt.

“Won’t do that again in a hurry,” she said, circling the bridge of her nose with her thumb. “Where are we?”

He lurked above her, overshadowing her crouched frame. “Portal travel is disconcerting at first. But you seem to be suffering more than most.” He pressed his fingers harder into her skull and she winced, pulling away. “I’ve borrowed this place for a while. It’s on the other side of the city.” He sounded detached, almost as if he’d switched on autopilot. She looked up his long legs to see a tight expression on his face. His coat dripped blood onto the floor, giving her a sick feeling. A whole heap of adrenaline was pumping through her veins and her body jittered.

She recalled the taxi driver and thought better of asking what “borrowed” meant. “Please tell me they can’t follow us.” She patted her empty pocket. The charm box was in the bag somewhere near those creatures. She held back a snarl and sat there shaking. He’d tossed her bag through her window to the street at the base of her building. Terror tightened her throat and the trembling wouldn’t leave. Her body knew how close she’d come to death and wasn’t ready to quit yet. What about Jane? She shivered some more.

“We’re safe here for a while. I’ll prepare a glamour to disguise our presence. Now I know what we’re up against, I’ll alter the wards. They won’t find us so quickly.” He muttered something under his breath, and she caught an expletive that sounded like
Khereb.
He searched through his coat pocket and unfolded a square of paper filled with a black powder.

“This will help.”

He’d said her apartment was safe as well, but the shakes were amping up instead of retreating. She accepted the paper and tipped it down her throat, screwing up her face at the bitter taste. “I think it spoke to me.” The monstrous beast had stared straight into her eyes. She inhaled and held her breath, releasing it slowly in an effort to calm her racing heart.

“It bore you a salutation from the Abyss. It called you ‘Soul in the Wilderness.’ In the old language—from the cradle of the early gods.”

Her body gave one last convulsive shudder as the drug hit, uncoiling her muscles. She exhaled in relief and watched him fill a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen and stride back to her.

“Your historians call it Sumer,” he said, handing her the glass.

She took it gratefully and gulped it down. The words had sounded evil—like something had crawled out of hell. She’d never seen anything like those distorted animals.

“The beasts broke through the
segulah
, the protection around your building.” His mouth tightened and he walked over to a steel table, tossing her duffel down. She hadn’t seen him pick it up, but he must have collected it from the bottom of the fire escape. She scanned the material looking for a familiar bump in the side pocket.

“They haven’t been seen for thousands of years. It seems your sketches have thinned the boundaries between worlds.”

“Are they the monsters you warned me about?” Earlier he’d been keen to talk. Now she sensed his hesitancy, as if he guarded his words carefully before speaking. He emptied her satchel with abrupt yet economical movements. His shredded coat exposing strips of torn flesh was the only sign he’d been in battle.

“I spoke about lesser creatures; ghouls and the like, attracted to the mundane worlds. I never expected the Khereb. This changes things.” He slammed his hands on the table, rocking it on its legs, and his hair fell forward, hiding his face. “They live in the Abyss, part of the infernal hierarchy, in a place where gods and spirits dwell. I commanded one of the forbidden angels to help us. It will fight the Khereb until they leave, and then draw back to the Abyss.” He heaved a breath and lifted his head. White lines surrounded his mouth, and his pupils were dilated, blazing in anger.

“That thing you summoned didn’t look like any angel I’ve imagined,” she said, coming to her feet in an unsteady lurch. The tightness in her scalp unraveled, releasing her headache, and she stretched her neck, hearing it crack.

“Besmelo patrols the Abyss.” The muscles in his cheek twitched. “The High Council will sense I’ve called the spirit, but won’t know why. I must get back to Balkaith.”