Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
It didn’t take long to get to the town centre and onto another roof—a multi-storey car park this time.
It was once part of a thriving shopping centre but has been empty for over ten years.
It’s an old, cheaply made building in desperate need of demolition—the concrete is crumbling.
Not giving a shit about public safety, the council settled for half-heartedly closing it off.
From my vantage point, I peek around the chipped concrete pillar and through the open-air window covered in mesh to thwart jumpers. It provides the perfect view of what’s happening below. The town square sprawls beneath me like a stage set for a play no one knows they’re in.
I found them.
They are alive and still caught in the spell. Standing shoulder to shoulder in tightly packed rows are my friends and neighbours. Thousands of people. They remind me of blades of grass swaying in a non-existent breeze and waiting for… What? I’ve no idea.
Tugging my coat tighter around me, I cross my arms to retain some body heat.
Under my hat, my hair is still wet. Taking a shower was worth the risk.
Even without power, the hot water tank was still full.
I desperately needed to wash the night away and change into fresh clothes.
I binned my dirty uniform. I don’t want to see another green polo ever again.
It’s five in the morning, and with my circadian rhythm out of whack, my body is in that weird, trembly, need-sleep state.
I can’t stop shaking, and my vision around the edges is hazy.
How could I sleep with all this going on?
After last night, I don’t think I’ll sleep for a week.
When I first started at the supermarket, I dreamt of working on the tills and endlessly stacking never-ending shelves.
I don’t want to think about what I would dream after all this.
My memories flick back to my mum’s expression, the fear and heartbreak in her eyes. I know I broke her trust, but I don’t regret lying. I’d do it again without question to get them away from this cursed town and the mess happening in the town square.
It’s a horrible thing to make your entire family cry.
I pray they’re safe. I should have made them promise to leave the area. If they don’t and get themselves killed, I’ll be so bloody mad.
They’ll go.
They have no choice but to keep my brothers and Nan safe.
I huff out a soft breath and stuff my fear down deep inside. I can’t have negativity on my mind. I have things to do and must believe they’re safe outside this wretched prison. I’ve been working hard for the past five years so they will have long, comfortable lives.
Five years.
I’ve always been different and a bit weird, and I grew up faster than my peers. But I’ve never been the hero type. I’m selfish. I did everything for me so I could be with them in our new life. I certainly didn’t see myself on this fool’s journey, watching them leave while I was left behind.
I’m under no illusions. Things are going to go wrong, and as I watch the spelled swaying, I make my peace with that. Dying will be easier than living with myself if I do nothing. Guilt will eat at me until there’s nothing left.
Fate, the gods, magic, or Nature… whatever. The higher calling that puppeteers us all has given me a gift, and soon I’ll see what I’m made of—and if my magic is strong enough.
Shit, that makes me sound like a narcissist.
If there is a higher power, will you give me a sign? I need a nudge in the right direction.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
What do I do? How do I go about fixing this mess? It seems an impossible task. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent my family away with all my charms. I groan and press my forehead into the pillar. I was panicking and I didn’t think. I guess I never do.
Kricket, you’re an absolute fool.
The kill team guys are easy to spot as they stand to attention on the edges of the silent crowd, still shifted in their strange warrior forms… unless they aren’t shifters at all and just look like that.
Aliens.
It’s all hush-hush, but everyone knows there are gateways and ley lines to other worlds. It wouldn’t take much for them to come here. So the theory is not far-fetched; the invaders could be aliens.
But why would aliens attack a town full of dragon bloods? It doesn’t make sense.
I stand and stare. The sky lightens, and the first light of dawn casts long shadows, but the eerie stillness makes the air feel heavy.
Nothing has happened for hours until I notice a change within the stoic guards—they get a little bit livelier and stand straighter.
Others arrive, increasing the enemy count to over forty. After an animated conversation, they begin to set something up—pieces of curved metal. The pieces quickly slot together, creating a strange circle. The circle is then raised from the floor and attached to a stand, a platform.
What is that? A portal gate? Nah, ley lines don’t work like that; the gateways must be fixed.
I step back when the dark grey metal circles within the frame spin.
They move in opposite directions, like something from a sci-fi movie.
Within minutes, the movement is so fast that it appears not to be turning.
A few seconds later, a ripple of glowing blue blooms outward from within the centre like a stone dropped in a pond.
“What is that thing? What is going on?” I murmur, shuffling forward and curling my fingertips into the mesh. The bite of the old metal grounds me.
The new arrivals—who are bigger and better dressed and look like Generals—drift through the ranks of the spelled, perhaps searching for someone. Then they roughly pull random people out of the line-up.
Get off them, I want to shout.
My uneasiness makes me shake harder. There’s no rhyme or reason someone is pulled out and others are left behind, but then I notice the pattern. They bypass the witches and the fae. They’re going for people with strong dragon blood DNA.
Once they’ve picked out about fifty people, they cluster the chosen together away from the others. I see a familiar blonde head and suck in a breath. It’s Chloe. Chloe and a few other people I know. I scowl. Hateful Anton Hill has made the cut.
The baddies talk and point a lot, and then the kill teams split up. They herd the spelled—the ones not in the special group—towards the gate.
At the front of the first line, an older man shuffles, and my heart misses a beat when I recognise him. It’s George, the welder who did my security bars. He’s a friend of my nan’s, and he’s always been kind.
Poor George is oblivious to what’s happening around him as he zombie walks towards the gate. His body touches the blue centre, and he disappears. What? A dozen more people follow George through the gate, and I watch, growing more confused as person after person disappears.
Have I got this all wrong? Is this a rescue? And then I see it. I notice something, a build-up of ash. Ash particles flutter and settle on the ground each time someone steps through.
Ash.
Huh, whatever it is, it must create a lot of heat. I don’t understand why there is... My brain is slow to connect the dots, and when it does, I gasp.
It’s not some otherworldly portal. I pull away from the mesh to clutch at my stomach, and bending forward, I moan. Bile rushes up my throat. I’m going to be sick. There’s no rescuing George. He’s dead. Everyone that goes into that thing is dead.
It’s killing them—vaporising them!
Oh fate, what have I done? I’ve stood here watching, doing nothing, while the invading baddies kill people.
I need to destroy that machine now!
I let my mind roll, opening myself to the magic inside me. There must be a spell. I focus on the raw materials pressing into my skin and ask them for help.
Before the magic can form, I’m grabbed from behind. I squeak in surprise as a massive arm wraps around my waist and jerks me against a solid chest.
“What the—”
A giant grey hand slaps over my mouth, cutting off my words. “Shush.”
They’ve found me.
“Don’t throw your life away for people that are already dead,” says a rumbly voice—a voice like rocks falling, a voice that I’ve heard before.
The gargoyle.
“You can’t do anything for them, nothing girl. Or should I call you by your name, Kricket Jones?”
How does he know my name?
“They were already gone as soon as the spell got into their heads. They’re brain-dead.”
I moan, and his heavy palm presses harder, muffling the sound.
We are still facing the same direction, and they’ve started with another line of people.
I don’t believe they’re brain-dead. I don’t believe him.
I need to do something. The gargoyle needs to do something.
Why is he just standing here? Why isn’t he helping?
The gargoyle drops his voice and menacingly whispers against my ear.
His hot breath tickles. “The stunt you pulled with your family finally pushed them over the edge, using ancient magic to get them through the ward.” He tuts.
“What were you thinking? What did you think would happen? You should have left with your family when you had the chance. Did you think they couldn’t feel the power?
Stupid, selfish girl. They knew you weren’t with the people down there the second you tapped the ward. ”
His fingers curl, digging into my face. He grips my chin, forcing me to watch the people below. He’s a fool, and the move is pointless ’cause I’ve not once looked away.
“That’s why they’re killing every dragon blood in this town, because of you. Did you know that?”
Me? That’s not true. He’s lying.
The gargoyle tightens his hold; he’s now hurting me. I whine in pain. I attempt to throw my leg back and kick his shin. He lifts me until my feet dangle, and then for good measure he traps my flailing legs between his thighs and bends me like a pretzel.
“They came here because of you. They killed hundreds of gargoyles, and soon thousands of innocent people will die, and it’s all your fault.” His biceps tighten, my bones groan at the pressure, and to drive his point home further, he viciously shakes me like a rag doll till my teeth clack together.
The gargoyle adjusts his hold and then thrusts a hand in front of my face. I cringe, tense, and close my eyes. When he doesn’t hit me, I blink a few times to refocus on the object between his fingers—the sock charm.
Oh. Where’s he going with this? I helped him, so shouldn’t he be grateful?
“What we don’t know is where you found the charms. Did you really think selling dragon artefacts would slip their notice?”
My head goes fuzzy.
Dragon artefacts? No, no way. That can’t be right.
They’re my charms, mine. My power has absolutely nothing to do with dragons. I’m part witch, that’s all. All the books say that dragon bloods have inert DNA, and it doesn’t do anything; we don’t do anything.
The building falling on him has damaged his mind, and being buried alive has done him severe mental harm. The gargoyle is confused and not right in the head. You can’t argue with crazy.
I take a deep breath through my nose, pushing down the panic bubbling inside me. I force myself to focus on what he’s saying—it’s hard when someone spits such vitriolic words. Rage oozes off him. I’ve never met anybody so angry.
I focus, rolling his words in my mind. All this talk about dragon artefacts leads me to believe he doesn’t know. He must not know that the magic is mine. He thinks I’m using a stash of ancient charms.
Shit, this is bad. Really bad.
“The dragons are hunting you, Kricket. It’s only a matter of time till they find you.
You’ve already seen what they can do; they will make you hurt until you tell them everything they want to know.
I promise to keep you safe if you tell me where the rest of the charms are.
I’ll ensure your prison sentence is light and let your family go as a favour. ”
Oh, that’s good of him.
What the hell, prison? And hang on a second. What did he mean about the invaders? This just keeps getting better and better.
“Dragons?” The word comes out garbled ’cause of the massive hand covering half my face. Ugh, he needs to get that big paw off me. I don’t want him touching me. I’ve no idea where that hand has been.
I try to think of a spell that’ll put him down. A Taser comes to mind, and I have the sleep charm in my pocket. As soon as the thought forms, my coat sleeve is roughly shoved up—along with the string of obsidian stones wrapped around that arm. My skin burns as the little hairs are ripped away.
Something slaps against my bare wrist.
Oh look, the gargoyle has brought a friend.
The other gargoyle grins at me with narrow, serrated teeth. Nice. Where the first gargoyle has a face like a magnificent statue, all angles and male beauty, this guy looks like any local gargoyle. Big, hard, and scary. The thing he slapped on my arm unravels and then tightens.
Everything that I am stops as if the entire world has held its breath.
I gasp.
I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I’ve never seen one, but I have heard of them. It’s a null band, a magic-stealing bracelet.
“Why is she not out?” the friend grumbles. “Even pure humans are out like a light.”
“I don’t know.”
“Strange.”
Another band slaps down, joining the first. Uh-oh, they put on two. I’m getting weaker, but I can still feel the charm in my pocket, and if I can just… before I can ask the little pillow for its help, another band slaps into place.
Three.
“Yeah, she’s strong.” The gargoyle holding me aims for confidence, but even to my numb ears, he sounds confused. “That’s why we’ve been watching her.”
My head flops. I can’t seem to hold it up, so I sag back against the gargoyle’s chest. Dickhead. I can’t believe they’ve been watching me. “I should have left you buried in the sand.”