Chapter IX #2
“Very good. Final case: 1989. Rural Pennsylvania. Farmers have been complaining to the local authorities for months about cattle mutilations, animals wasting away, refusing to eat. No one pays attention until two teenagers go missing in a cornfield. No bodies are found, and the cattle mutilations stop. What gives?”
“Alien abduction,” the male Sentinel behind Vic announced.
Vic shot a look of shock at Sarah, who shook her head tightly. No.
“Any serious suggestions?” Xan asked.
A muscular woman to the left of Vic raised her hand. “Goat-sucker,” she said in a deep voice. “El Chupacabra.”
“Bryce, you know we don’t call it that,” Xan said without looking up from his notebook.
“It won’t hunt again for a few weeks after a feed,” Bryce went on. “The goat-sucker makes a nest in cave systems, where it drags prey to eat slowly. So you can either lure it out or wait for it to get hungry again.”
“And how do you kill it?” Xan said.
“Stabbing ought to do it,” Bryce said. “Dip the knife in goat’s blood if you want to be extra sure it’s dead.”
“Correct.” Xan snapped the notebook in his palm shut. “Is everybody ready to get to work?”
A resounding confirmation came from the Sentinels. Evidently, Vic was not alone in preferring fighting to classroom instruction.
“Split up by squad,” Xan said. “Two squads per training room and One and Two in the Arena. You know the drill. We’re working hand-to-hand again today.”
Vic tried to follow Sarah when she left the room, but Xan pulled her aside. He put Vic with Squads Six and Seven, while Sarah was on Squad Three. He tasked Vic with running them through the basics and said he would check back in an hour.
Together, Squads Six and Seven comprised a dozen witches, all of whom watched Vic with confused furrows between their brows, like adults astounded to find themselves under the supervision of a kindergartner.
None of them had been there to witness her fight with May yesterday, and Vic had no idea what, if anything, they expected from her.
So much for easing her in gently, Vic thought.
She threw a nervous smile at the Sentinels and wiped her palms on her thighs. Though she’d been fighting for years, Vic had never taught before.
“I figured we could run some practice fights,” Vic said. Her voice tilted up at the end as if it were a question, and she scolded herself for her timidity. “See what y’all need to work on, and then maybe come up with some drills.”
No one spoke.
“Who wants to go first?” Vic asked, pasting on a smile.
The Sentinels stood silent, staring at her.
“You,” Vic said, and she pointed at the largest man among them. “Come here.”
More than an hour passed, and Xan made no reappearance. Vic went over some of the basic defense maneuvers with the group, who had obviously learned all of it before and forgotten. But the rust wore off the more they practiced, and Vic worked up a sweat.
Though none of the twelve Sentinels showed hostility toward Vic, she wondered if they worked harder than they otherwise would have to avoid being outshone by an outsider, like Xan had predicted.
But if the witches fought hard to avoid losing to a human, Vic fought even harder.
She was not about to be proved weak in front of the Sentinels.
Vic threw another witch to the ground and turned to discuss the move with the group when she noticed someone in the doorway, watching her.
A sinewy blond woman whom Vic recognized from training yesterday leaned against the doorjamb.
“That’ll be all for today, guys,” the woman said, and Vic frowned as the witches she’d been training ambled out of the room without a backward glance her way. Vic turned and began stacking the mats she’d pulled out for practice.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the woman said.
When Vic did not reply, she added, “My name is Em. Sarah asked me to bring you to the Sentinels’ lounge. She said she found something you’ll want to see.”
“What did she find?”
Em shrugged, looking impatient, and Vic pushed the last mat into place and followed her out of the room.
Down a hallway, up one staircase, then another hall, and they came upon a set of double doors, which Em pushed open.
Along one side of an expansive room, shelves held ancient-looking books.
Windows on the adjoining wall showed a bleak day, casting the room in shadow.
As she stepped forward, Vic noticed the rug in the center of the room had been moved.
There was a faint outline of dust on the floor where it had lain until recently, about a foot away.
The image made the hair on Vic’s neck stand up. She took a step back.
Behind her, the doors swung shut, and a rush of air hit Vic’s back. Em turned to stand in front of the doors with a determined frown.
“This isn’t the Sentinels’ lounge, is it?”
“No.” May Lin walked forward from the shadows on the other side of the room, toying with a narrow silver dagger. Another figure moved in Vic’s periphery—a reedy Black man Vic recognized from this afternoon’s session. There were three Sentinels in the room, and one Vic.
“Sarah didn’t send for me, did she?”
May’s lovely face twisted. “She did not.”
“Do you mind?” Vic asked as she crouched to pull back the worn carpet. Underneath it, the stone floor was marked in a pointed pattern—not quite a star, more the way a child would draw the sun. Spikes around a circle. The image had been burned into the floor.
“What is it?” Vic said, keeping her voice casual.
“Step inside and find out,” May told her with a smile. She spun the knifepoint against the pad of her finger as she spoke. May was comfortable with the blade, and she wanted Vic to know that.
“Thank you, but no.” Vic glanced around her. There was only one way out of the room, and Em stood in front of it.
“Don’t look so apprehensive,” May said. “We only wanted to talk.”
“Oh, yeah?” Vic asked, raising her eyebrows.
“You proved yesterday you can fight,” May said. “But you’re out of your league.”
If Vic could lure Em forward a few feet and distract the others somehow, she could make a run for it. But the others had magic. Vic didn’t know how much damage they could do in the seconds it would take her to flee.
“We’ve discussed it among ourselves, and we believe it’s best if you leave,” May said.
“What do you expect me to do wrong, exactly? Burn the castle down? I’m only trying to—”
“To what? Poke and prod and shove your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“You don’t know what I want,” Vic said. “Maybe I have a thing for flying buttresses and murderous women.” She shifted until she was in the right position to move fast, her feet hips’ width apart and poised to run.
“Your stupidity will get someone killed. If we’re lucky, it’ll be you.”
“Are you always this dramatic?” Vic asked.
“You’re a fool,” May spat. “You’re thinking about fighting us, aren’t you? You’re trying to game a way out of here, but it won’t work. There are three of us here, and we kill things for a living.”
“Yeah, you’re highly trained, I heard about that. That’s why it took me two whole minutes to get you on the ground yesterday.”
“Grab her,” May told the man at her side, and Vic moved.
Vic pretended to lunge for May, and Em rushed forward.
Vic spun back to the door, aiming for the thin gap between Em’s back and the wall.
Her fingers closed around the brass handle, but a heavy hand wrapped around Vic’s arm as the third Sentinel grabbed her from behind.
On instinct, Vic flung her elbow into his face.
He jerked away with a wet shout, blood pouring from his nose.
Vic twisted out of his grip and wrenched the door handle.
It opened an inch before an unseen force slammed it shut, a gust of wind ruffling Vic’s hair. May.
Vic threw a look over her shoulder before pulling harder on the door. May stood with her arms crossed, watching Vic.
“You’re not going anywhere until we’re finished here.” Beside May, the man Vic had hit held his sleeve over his nose, tilting his head back to stem the flow.
“You’re supposed to lean forward,” Vic told him, breathing hard. “Otherwise blood runs down your throat and you can choke.”
“That’s enough!” May snapped.
“Just a piece of advice,” Vic added under her breath.
“I said that’s enough! Do you ever shut up?” May took a step toward Vic.
From the far side of the room came the tinkling of broken glass, and all three witches turned toward the window. They paused, identical expressions of horror dawning on their faces, before a brilliant white light filled the room. Vic threw a hand in front of her face.
When the light dimmed, a lone black bird sat atop the high back of a chair behind them. It stood still as a statue, its beady eyes gazing impassively at the scene.
Vic angled her head as she watched it, confused. But the others were already moving.
“Fuck! Fuck!” May shouted, pushing Vic aside and hurrying to the door. “You said he was out of the castle!”
“That’s what Xan told me!” Em shot back. “We have to get out of here before—”
“Bit late for that, ladies.”
Max was standing against the bookcase with his hands in his suit pockets, once again the old movie star caught between takes. When he saw the male witch’s bloody face, Max gave a sympathetic wince. “Hello, Michael. Best not to lean your head back when your nose is bleeding, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, sir,” the witch named Michael replied, and Max handed him a handkerchief, which he appeared to conjure out of thin air. Michael pressed it to his face and leaned forward.
“Now, what are the three of you up to?” Max asked May and Em, the latter of whom stopped tugging on the now locked door.
May stared defiantly at Max, while Em kept her eyes on the floor, and neither of them replied. Max wore a pleasant expression as he waited, eyebrows half raised, for any of the three witches to speak. The silence dragged on until it became oppressive.
“We were only trying to scare her,” Em blurted out.