Maker

Chapter: 1-2

Her real name wasn’t Zora, of course. When she met me, and found out what names could do, she quickly started going by Zora Wade Teresa Kenpachi—which were all names of anime swordsman she liked or something. She was carrying her Japanese katana slung on one hip and looked up at me with a huge grin. The grin pulled at a wide jagged scar that began just above her jawline and ran down her left side. The scar was a few shades darker than she was, and therefore impossible to miss. That had been a particularly bad day. She was wearing a once-white tank top and once-tan cargo pants; both now ruined and covered in blood.

She had asked for a hair growth potion a couple years back. All her hair was falling out because obtaining magical knowledge is an unforgiving process. It had grown the hair on her head, and in a lot of other places too. For a while she looked like the 1940’s wolfman. The result was a long black braid that stopped at her hips.

I panicked for a moment, seeing all the blood. I thought I may have shot her, then I realized even this close that was nearly impossible.

Zora’s power was speed. She was like Quicksilver on steroids. Like me, she only did a couple things, but she did them really well. She had probably come into my lab, closed the door, and moved behind me all in the span of a blink.

“How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me?”

She sounded genuinely thoughtful. “Few hundred or so. I swear I’ll stop just as soon as it’s not funny anymore… or if you ever manage to kill me. That would put the brakes on my bullshit quite quick actually.” She was smiling, like usual—which was a bad sign, also like usual. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. I could hear her breathing hard and smelled the gore all over her. Half of her long black hair was loose from its ponytail, also spattered with blood. “Anyway, I think I need a bandage.”

“What happened?”

“I got bored.” She laughed, then collapsed in the other chair, wincing as she held her arm tightly.

“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, “You were supposed to watch them.”

“I did watch them. I watched all the way up until they died screaming. I even watched for a minute or two after. Felt kinda pointless.”

I threw up my hands. “And you couldn’t text me? What was so hard about sticking to the plan?”

“Maker,” she said calmly, emphasizing each word, “I’m bleeding to death. I would like a bandage please.”

“Gauze,” I said. A paper wrapper that you could find in any hospital room appeared in my hand, and I handed it over. Zora ripped her pants open at the thigh, and I noticed she had made a tourniquet from an old belt. She spat on her leg and scrubbed the wound with her bloody pants, prompting me to grab a bottle of water off my desk. I set to work cleaning it properly, while she explained what had happened.

“Blueboy was in the warehouse, like you said.” Blueboy was a fairy with long wild blue hair—hence the name. He looked like a Comic-Con reject. Fairies came in all shapes and sizes; this one happened to be human looking. They also came in every spectrum of motivation from benign incorruptible seraphim, to those spawned from the depths of hell.

We didn’t know if Blueboy was in town for business or pleasure, but I assumed it was nothing that polite society would approve of. I had foregone finding out exactly what it was when I saw he had a squad of goblins in tow. The benign fairies seldom had a reason to visit Earth, and never made noise when they did. These goblins went out every night vandalizing, trespassing and jaywalking. They were obviously looking for something, so we’d planned to kill Blueboy and ambush the goblins on their return at dawn. Simple.

“I was watching most of the day and didn’t see much movement. You said they were in and out of the place. I figured if I saw an opening, I could go in and kill him. Goblins would be easy to hunt down if he wasn’t there giving them orders.”

“And what was wrong with waiting until tonight, when they would all be gone?!” The cut was down to the bone and looked jagged as if someone had gone in with something large and dull, then ripped it out sideways. Whatever it was had torn an artery. The gauze would take care of it. She was going to be limping for a day or two, but at least it was clean. I stood up and crossed my arms, frustrated she was hurt… and worried more than anything.

She ripped open the gauze package with her teeth. The cleaner you could keep the bandage, the better this particular magic worked. Zora was careful to ease it out of the package without touching it.

As soon as the bandage touched her skin, the magic activated. Any wizard would feel the faint discharge of power in the air. This was a magical tool, so it wasn’t the shock of bone-deep ice you get casting a spell—but you could notice a chill this close.

The threads from the gauze dug into her skin, and she slowly released the tourniquet with a sigh. “Better make that two bandages,” she said, inspecting her bloody left arm. There was a trickle of bright red mixed in with the duller darker shades.

“Gauze,” I said again. “You need to be more careful. These aren’t easy to make. What if I had been out?”

“You have six left and the ace bandage. You would’ve said if you used one,” she said dismissively, focusing instead on cleaning her arm. She was right of course. That was annoying.

“That’s not the point.” I snapped.

“You wanna hear the damn story or not?” She growled. Zora was either a fellow wizard or the misbehaving little sister I never wanted. It was often hard to tell which. At times, she was the most sane and rational person I’d ever met. Other times she was a bloodthirsty lunatic who reveled in chaos and spent my time and talents keeping herself out of trouble. She was also my apprentice.

We glared at each other in silence for a few moments before she finally looked away and spoke, “Fine.”

“I think what I wanna hear is ‘It won’t happen again Maker.’”

She carefully slid the second bandage onto her arm and looked up at me. “That doesn’t sound realistic at all, but if you still wanna hear it…” She grinned, the way she did when she wanted to unnerve people and entertain herself. There was no warmth in that smile; it was more like the look you would get from an excited grizzly bear who just realized you were edible. I sighed and let it go. She was still alive. That was enough for the moment. “Anyway, I went in when I saw him leave with six goblins in tow. I knew that we could hit them tonight, but nothing wrong with taking down a few before that.”

“Actually, there’s a lot wrong with that idea but go on,”

“Well six of them left, so I figured if your count was right there would only be three inside.” I didn’t say so, but for her, those were actually pretty good odds. “I snuck in through the roof and found them all in the same room talking about something in Fae. I got two before they could move. I was interrogating the last one—not an easy thing to do when they only speak crappy Fae and crappier Mandarin. I was making some headway at least, until Blueboy walked in. He shot me before I got my bubble up. Him and nine goblins in close quarters was… a strain.”

“Nine? I thought you killed two?” I said.

“Yeah, funny thing about that. I was trying to peel, and every time I did, one of the headless or gutless goblins would get up again. I assumed that Blueboy was doing that somehow so I feinted a few times and managed to put a scratch on his leg. He got distracted for a second. Then the, somehow, not dead goblins hesitated. Then they all died. Then I left. Then it was now.”

“Anyone see you leave?” I reloaded my gun, chambered a round and shoved it back in the holster.

“Nah, I left at speed ‘cause I was rushing here. Got swag though.” She smiled, nodding to an army-style duffle bag behind me. I hadn’t noticed it before.

“So, you were bleeding? Arterial bleeding? And you took time to ransack the place?”

She sounded as incredulous as I felt. “What the hell is the point of any of this if we aren’t gonna get the girl or the loot?!”

“Wait, what?” I was even more confused, “What girl?”

“Exactly!” She smiled. “Which is why I had to get the loot!” I was about to snap at her again, but there was a knock at the door.

Zora had left the door cracked. I saw it was Rollo and waved him in.

Rollo was short for a man, though not by much. Maybe five-foot-eight or so. At my six-one, he came up to my nose. Even then, it was difficult to look down on him. He was as wide as I was, and hid all that muscle under a layer of fat just thick enough to make you wanna underestimate him.

He wore a trenchcoat, even in this spring heat. Hell, he always wore it, even in the middle of summer. It was tan leather and specially made to hold a shotgun inside. He also wore his shoulder holster with a nine-millimeter Baretta on each side, and had a Taser, pepper spray, and a rosary at his waist. I knew he would also have at least three pairs of handcuffs somewhere, and one or more of my flame potions.

Rollo had slick black hair, starting to go gray. His eyes were like mine: dark brown above sunken cheeks and a face that had been through more than a few beatings.

Zora squealed and stood up, throwing her arms out for a hug. “Rollo! How’s my favorite country-fried piglet?”

Oh, forgot to mention, Rollo’s a cop. Maybe it was my upbringing, urban living, or just all the rap music, but cops make me nervous. This one more than any other. I sat back down at my desk and resumed my relaxed position, but the relaxed feeling was gone.

I gripped my burn potion, not because I would need it, but because I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever was about to happen.

He made no move to hug Zora, shake hands, or approach her at all. You didn’t need to be a career detective to spot a woman covered in a gallon of fresh blood.

He smirked and eyed her up and down like someone would look at a misbehaving toddler caked in mud. “Why Zora you look as… as ever. Something I need to know?” Rollo’s slow speaking southern accent was right out of an old movie. Even though we were in North Carolina, you didn’t hear it all that often in a city the size of Raleigh.

“Yeah, I got a new part-time job at a slaughterhouse.” She grinned. “We specialize in hard-to-find meats.”

“So, none of that is human blood then?”

“What blood? Maker, do you see any blood?”

I had my feet up on my desk enjoying the last of the afternoon sunlight through eyes that were mostly closed. “I don’t even see you two having this conversation.”

“See?” She was still grinning at Rollo. “Besides, it’s good honest work, making the world a better place, blah, blah, blah. How many guilty until proven innocents have you harassed today?”