Chapter 13 #2
“Woohoo, nice work!” Marlow claps his hands and steals my focus from the confusing werewolf.
He climbs in the ring with absolutely zero finesse, trying to swing himself over the ropes and getting caught in the middle.
He snarls and curses at the ropes, insulting their mother like that makes sense, kicking and fighting his way free.
Then he bounds over to me like none of that just happened and he isn’t even ashamed. It’s actually pretty impressive.
“Pretty good,” the demon says. “Now it’s time for the real thing. Let’s see what you can summon.”
Visitors from the Beyond
Dodger
My palms are sweating. I wipe them on my jeans, taking deep breaths. The boxing ring looks massive and empty from where I stand at its edge, the ropes pressing into my back. The whip feels heavy in my grip, the handle worn smooth from whichever necromancer owned it before me.
Here goes nothing.
I walk toward the center of the ring. One heartbeat. Two. On the third, I crack the whip and it sails through the air with a sharp snap.
The sound echoes through the empty barracks, and for a moment, nothing happens. I try again, channeling my energy toward where I aim the whip. I visualize my energy flowing down my arm, through my fingers, into the braided leather, directing it toward the empty space before me.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Open up.”
Having an audience feels uncomfortable. Getting the passage open takes work. It seems to take forever until there’s a spark—a fleck of purple light. I grunt with the effort and push more energy there, the spark widening into a tear that slowly yawns open.
“It’s working,” Marlow whispers excitedly.
The passage stabilizes while I reach out into the void, trying to call a suitable creature to me. I don’t really know what I’m calling for, something strong but capable of, I don’t know, being my friend too? Is that lame? It sounds lame.
I sense something moving on the other side. A presence answering my call.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, taking an involuntary step back. Three heads. It has three heads.
The creature’s front half is pure lion, with rippling muscles beneath a tawny coat and a magnificent mane. And wings, there are wings along with the curve of a serpentine tail for its lower half.
“Whoa, a chimera,” I exclaim. Is this terrifying? Is it captivating? Yes and yes.
“You read Greek mythology?” Harper asks.
“No, but I play video games sometimes.” I take a cautious step closer. “Hey there, buddy. Wanna be my friend?” I extend a tentative hand.
“Absolutely not!” Harper appears at my side in an instant, preventing me from touching the beast. “Too dangerous.”
“Come on, it’s cool!”
He shakes his head. “Gonna need a better reason than that.”
“…It’s really cool?”
“Won’t be so cool when it takes your arm off,” he warns.
“It won’t… it won’t. Will you?” I ask the chimera.
The chimera regards me with an unsettling intelligence, its eyes flicking to my arm and then away. It looks neutral, then tilts its head curiously and eyes my arm again. The chimera licks its lips, like now that we mentioned it, maybe my arm would make a tasty meal.
Damn it. Harper’s right. I’m not a snack. Can’t be friends with something that wants to eat me.
I concentrate on sending the chimera back where it came from, cracking my whip and directing it. The chimera retreats into the portal with a low growl, vanishing.
My energy stretches out again into the place between planes, seeking another creature. Something responds to my call. There’s a moment of connection—like a fishing line going taut—and I pull.
“What the—” Harper begins, but his words die as something gets closer on the other side of the passage.
A massive, scaled foot appears, framed by purple light. One foot is all we can see on the other side. All three of us stand frozen, staring up at what I’ve somehow summoned. Staring way up, though I can’t see further than its ankle.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, backing up several steps. “What is it?”
“No idea,” Marlow answers.
Naturally, Harper puts his foot down. “Do I even need to say it? No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Maybe it’s nice?” I say.
“Shouldn’t you start smaller, with something manageable? Something the size of a building isn’t manageable.”
Okay, he’s got a point.
But not all of Harper’s objections are reasonable. He hates the next creature on sight.
“No, no, absolutely not!”
“Come on, it’s not even dangerous!” I say.
“You don’t know that.” He glares daggers. I wonder if he’s going to draw his weapon.
“It’s not acting dangerous.”
“It’s a cat,” he says like that changes everything. Well, he’s got me there. It is a cat. Some kind of ghost cat.
The cat’s just sitting there. Looks like a normal house cat, except transparent and about the size of a mountain lion. A forked tail splits off into two, swishing lazily behind it.
In fact, of all the creatures summoned, the cat seems least interested in the human realm, which seems like a good sign? The cat rests on the threshold into our world, licking its paw while grooming itself. Totally unconcerned with us. Maybe that’s just a cat thing? Even with ghost cats.
Harper frowns at it, disgusted. “It’s a cat.”
“And definitely dangerous,” Marlow confirms.
Crap. In profile, I see Harper’s smug expression.
“But everything Dodger brings over will come with some risk,” the demon continues. “This might be our best bet. Not ginormous, powerful but not too powerful, and the powers even line up perfectly since it’s a ghost cat that has power over the dead.”
Ha! I nudge Harper with my elbow. “So it’s basically a necromancer cat? We have so much in common already!”
A muscle in his jaw ticks and he sucks in a sharp breath. “No cats,” he grunts.
“You’re being ridiculous,” I point out.
“I’m allergic to cats,” Harper says.
“Well, it’s a ghost, so don’t think that’s a problem,” Marlow comments.
“No, you aren’t,” I guess.
“Okay, I’m not allergic,” Harper admits. “But it’s either me or the cat.”
…
Harper smoothly steps in front of me, blocking my view of the passage and our visitor. He stares me down. “No cats.”
I roll my eyes. Fine. Not worth it if he’s going to make such a fuss. I hope there is a creature out there he can get along with. You know, if we’re gonna be sticking around each other. I shoo him aside with my hands and dismiss the cat.
Nothing happens.
“Dodger, seriously. Not this one,” Harper says.
“I heard you.”
“So you aren’t ignoring me?”
“No…”
“Does that mean it’s not going back?” he growls.
“It is. The cat is totally leaving!” I insist. “I just need to make it understand that.”
Every time I try to send it back through the passage to where it came from, it’s like there’s a wall stopping me, something pushing back against my energy. I get the cat back beyond the passage and watch as the purple light shrinks—then expands again, opening back up every time I try to close it.
Maybe a stubborn cat with its own set of necromantic powers isn’t the best fit.
“Go on,” Harper orders, voice full of authority. Is he going full-on Alpha at a ghost house cat? “Shoo.”
I think the cat rolls its eyes.
Maybe the aversion goes both ways? I point at Harper and inform the cat, “He’s a werewolf.”
The tails flick in two different directions. The cat yawns and its narrow-eyed gaze flits to the detective, full of contempt. Then again, that’s basically its normal look.
But it must work because the cat disappears and the passage closes. I smile at Harper, expecting him to be happy since I finally got rid of the dastardly kitty, but he’s staring stone-faced at the empty space where the passage stood.
“This isn’t working,” Harper says. He turns and leaves without another word.
~
Dodger
Okay, trying to find a partner from beyond this plane wasn’t exactly a resounding success. Still, a good effort. No reason to be upset.
Marlow agrees with my thoughts. “Hey, you did good. We can try again later.”
Sure. It will probably work better without a stubborn shifter criticizing every choice and silently and not-so-silently judging. I sit down at the edge of the ring, my legs kicking against the edge. Why does it bother me so much that Harper left in disgust? It shouldn’t.
We weren’t exactly getting along great, even when he helped me practice. But he did help me anyway. Whenever it seems like we can actually get along for six seconds, something goes wrong. Why does it keep disappointing me?
“—just in time. Seriously, thank you.” That’s Harper’s voice. He isn’t gone?
I swivel around and see him in the doorway, talking to someone I can’t see. He fills the doorway, blocking whoever he’s speaking to.
“Thanks, Wynn,” Harper says. They say a few more words and then the door closes. Harper’s still here.
“Wynn?” Marlow echoes. “My Wynn?”
“He did me a favor.”
Marlow narrows his eyes. “Why is my Wynn doing you favors?”
“Because he helped me track this down.” Harper approaches the ring carrying something. A guitar case?
When he holds it out toward me, I almost think he’s attacking, even though I don’t think he’d actually hurt me. And attacking someone with a guitar case isn’t a thing.
I blink, processing. “Is that for me?”
“The whip doesn’t suit you,” he says stiffly.
I frown down at the coil of leather on the floor. “I haven’t gotten comfortable with it yet.”
“Are you sure that’s the problem? Is that the approach you really want to take, battling for dominance?”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” I look to the ‘expert’ for confirmation.
Marlow shrugs. “That’s a common approach for bigger beasts, proving yourself. But you gotta do what works for you.”
“Thought this would be more your speed.” Harper holds the case out to me again. “Music soothes the savage beast, right?”
I take the case and sit down with it in a corner of the ring. Feels like I’m opening a birthday present or something important, everything hushed as I click open the case.