Chapter 3 Going to Die
Zane Cimmerian
The security room still smelled like fresh paint when I shoved open the reinforced door.
“Welcome to Casa de Paranoia!” I gestured at our haphazard fortress with a flourish. “Armory on your left, nerd nest straight ahead, and biohazard zone to the right. Complimentary tetanus shots at every station.”
“You’re blocking the doorway, comedian.” Stalking past me, Cas scrubbed his fingers across the faint scar where the hawk’s talon had sunk into his forearm hours earlier.
I dodged his shoulder-check, trailing him toward the stainless steel exam table dominating the lab section. The mangled hawk construct looked even worse under the harsh LED lights: Half its feathers had dissolved into black sludge that bubbled ominously against the containment runes.
“You’re still sparking.” Ko’s dark eyes locked onto Cas’ arm.
“Perks of maternal unit’s DNA contribution.” Cas flexed his fingers, tiny arcs of lightning crackling between his knuckles. “Built-in jumper cables.”
“Yeah? Then why’s your left pupil dilating faster than the right?” I hopped onto a nearby lab stool, the wheels groaning in protest. “Face it, Goldilocks. You’ve got magical rabies.”
He hadn’t inherited many gifts from his mother, only strategic mind, leadership skills out the ass, and exceptional combat skills.
I always thought that protection from curses via lightning in his blood was the best one, though.
Usually, it snuffed a hex out in a heartbeat, which made me hella curious to find out what that hawk had been carrying.
“Whatever curse that thing packed is rewriting itself in your bloodstream,” Ko muttered, opening his laptop.
“It’s contained.” Cas leaned against the table, the display from the computer screen casting sickly green light across his face.
“Contained isn’t cured.” Ko’s fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up spectral analysis graphs that meant absolutely nothing to me. “Your blood’s fighting it, but look.” He zoomed in on shifting crimson waveforms. “The hex patterns keep mirroring your bioelectric resistance. Adapting.”
“So what’s the verdict? Do we amputate before the sparkles spread?”
The low growl building in Cas’ chest cut off when the hawk’s remaining eye suddenly lit up crimson. We all froze as the creature’s shattered beak clacked open, spewing black smoke. Fortunately, the containment orb did its work and held the smoke about a foot above the table
“Dark magic with an air witch signature,” Ko growled.
“Amabel and Eluned Harrow are both air witches,” I pointed out helpfully, “and pretty damn Dark.”
“Not enough evidence they were behind this,” Cas grunted, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.
I spun my stool, memories of this afternoon playing on repeat: The hawk screaming toward Seri, her laugh cutting off as Brumous tackled her, silver talons missing its target of her throat and sinking into Cas’ forearm.
Then Ko’s dagger singing through the air, me scrambling to catch fizzing feathers before she saw them, Cas’ voice steady as he lied straight to Seri’s face when he didn’t correct her comment about never seeing a hawk attack a person before.
“You said the warded perimeter runestones would hold.” I didn’t mean for it to come out accusatory, but Ko flinched like I’d slapped him.
“Ground perimeter’s secure. Airspace?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I missed the vertical parameters.”
“She almost died because you forgot birds can fly?” Cas’ fist hit the table hard enough to dent the steel surface.
“Easy, Thor.” I slid between them, catching the dangerous glint in Ko’s eyes. “No blaming the half-human who knows more magical theory than the two of us combined.”
“What was the point of the attack, though?” Ko asked. “Whether it was the Harrows or someone else, sending a cursed construct to attack our beloved on our territory? The plan was doomed before it launched.”
“Guess our rep hasn’t spread to every mercenary corner yet,” I volunteered.
“No.” Cas flexed his hand, tendons standing out from flashing skin. “The sender wanted us to panic. To waste time chasing shadows while they line up the real shot.”
The overhead lights flickered as his power surged. I reached for the emergency breaker, but Koa was faster. His palm slammed down on an engraved copper plate, activating dampening fields.
“Control it! Or I’m pumping you full of benzos!”
For a heartbeat, I thought Casimir might actually throw a lightning bolt at him. Then the glow faded from his skin, leaving scorch marks on the cuffs of his shirt.
“I. Can’t. Feels like a live wire arguing with itself.”
“So we’ve got a curse that treats lightning blood like a funhouse mirror?” I tilted my head in confusion.
“Three layer attack, Z,” Ko barked. “Layer one now!”
“Oh, hell, yeah!” I punched my fist into the air and plucked a mistletoe tonic from the chaos of our makeshift pharmacy. “Bottoms up, Sparky.”
“I’d rather swallow live eels.” Cas recoiled like I’d offered rat poison.
“Tempting, but not helpful.” I tapped his nose with my index finger, and he snapped at it like Brumous after a fly. “Drink the damn potion, Cas, so we don’t have to explain to Seri why her Simmy croaked overnight.”
“It smells like fermented shit!”
“Good.” Koa’s smile held all the sweetness of a guillotine blade. “Maybe it’ll remind you not to barehand cursed constructs next time.”
The lights surged again. Brighter. Hotter. Shadows writhed across the walls as Cas hissed through clenched teeth.
“You’re not containing it. You’re giving it time to adapt.” Ko threw up his hands, exasperated.
“What’s it trying to be? A virus? A parasite?” I leaned in close enough to feel ozone prickle along my skin. “Inquiring dhamps want to know.”
“Something that shouldn’t exist!” he snarled, his green irises flickering to storm-cloud gray.
I snatched a UV penlight from the dissection tray. The beam revealed thin black veins spidering beneath his skin.
“See? See?” I gestured wildly, and Koa used the distraction to get Cas in a side headlock. I grinned as I held up the glass vial. “Open wide, princess.”
“Bite me!” Cas tried to twist free. Golden strands escaped his ponytail, sticking to the sweat-slicked column of his throat.
“Section eight, paragraph four of our protocols—”
“Don’t quote my own moon-damned manual at me!”
“—states any foreign curse resisting natural purification requires immediate intervention.” Ko’s forearm flexed against Cas’ windpipe. “Or do I need to fetch our beloved to hold your hand through basic field medicine?”
Casimir froze. Three seconds passed before his jaw unclenched with an audible pop.
“Fine. But if Zane spills one drop of that gutter sludge on my boots…”
“Relax, Cas.” I uncorked the mistletoe tincture with my teeth. “You’ve had worse tasting things in your mouth.”
Just as he drew breath to snap back, I tipped the potion in his mouth, triggering a glorious symphony of gagging.
“Swallow or wear it,” I sing-sang as I held the vial vertical until every drop went down his throat.
“Happy now, mother hens?” He convulsed, Adam’s apple bobbing violently.
“Just getting started. Layer two,” Ko growled.
“No,” Cas gasped, his fingers denting the exam table.
“Yes.”
“It’s excessive.”
“Your body is hosting a mutating curse. Excessive left the stables twenty minutes ago. Zane, the level seven grimoire.”
Saluting, I kicked open a nearby footlocker and started looking around.
“Remind me again why we alphabetized everything by threat level instead of name?”
“Because someone kept mistaking grimoires for glow sticks,” Casimir gritted out. Sweat dripped from his chin as shivers racked him.
“Festive explosives are a valid defense strategy!”
“Page forty-two,” Ko bit out. “And don’t improvise the Latin this time. He doesn’t need turned into a cat or pink hair right now.”
“Where’s the fun in—”
Casimir seized my wrist, lightning running up my arm in a jolt that tasted like burnt marshmallows and made my nose hairs curl.
“The. Exact. Words.”
“Only because your blood’s doing the mambo with enough juice to fry a jumbo jet.” I flipped to the earmarked page with exaggerated care.
“Hold still.” Ko already had a scalpel poised over Casimir’s forearm. “Or this’ll hurt me way more than it’ll hurt you.”
“Just open the vein, Doctor Killpatient!” Cas snapped.
“Remember Algeria?” Ko smirked. “That time the blood ward exploded in your face?”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Cas hissed as cold steel bit into him.
“Wasn’t not your fault, either.”
Black ichor oozed tarry-thick into the waiting crucible, the stink almost unbearable. Classic Dark witch fuckery.
“Oh, that is ripe.” I threw up a little in my mouth. “Like a funeral pyre after they toss in the sacrificial goats.”
“Help, not color commentary, required, Z!” Ko rumbled. “Now sing, dammit!”
My mother’s gift rolled off my tongue smooth as bourbon. Swan cant always felt like singing through molasses, vowels stretching into feathered syllables. Blood sizzled against copper. Smoke plumes twisted into winged shapes even Escher would’ve called bullshit on.
“Fucking ants … marching up … my carotid.” Casimir’s free hand spasmed, fingers digging into the metal table like it was butter.
“Ants with tiny lightning rods.” Ko squinted at the EKG blipping erratically. “How’s your vision?”
“See two … assholes in … hi-def.”
I cranked through the second verse. Ancient power tore through our blood-bond, diluted but still packing more than enough punch. The smoking crucible erupted in a geyser of neon sparks, and Cas arched off the table.
“Done,” Ko declared. “Let’s seal the breach before he strokes out.”
“Or strokes something,” I snickered.
Casimir’s rare chuckle came out warped, like someone had dialed his vocal cords down to 33 RPM, and I hoped to hell Ko was recording this.