Maker

Chapter: 12-1

Chapter: 12

I was back in the stone room, screaming. The pain died and was replaced by the most amazing feeling. I wanted to cry, it was so beautiful. A man stood by my bed. He had on a white lab coat. His hands were in his pockets. I’d seen him once before—Hawknose from the ambush a few nights ago. He was young, with long black hair past his shoulders and angular features. He was beautiful; the whole world was beautiful, wonderful. The straps were loose, and the duct tape was all torn. That was nice.

I threw my legs up and got them around his shoulders. I quickly adjusted to his neck faster than he could move away. His brown eyes were surprised as I squeezed his neck with my calves. It felt so amazing.

He gurgled and wheezed as I struggled to increase the pressure. I felt his larynx beneath my calves and moaned at the pleasure of it pressing against my leg. I squeezed harder, and the feeling against my calves was literally breathtaking.

He spoke, but my ears were far too overcome with the pleasure of the sound to make out any words. His voice was euphoric. The ice from the spell he cast along my skin caused the most delightful chill. I shivered and locked my legs together even tighter.

The pain started again, I screamed and my body jerked hard. I managed to keep my legs tight as I jerked and took him with me. He lost consciousness. The pain left as quickly as it came. All the sensation was gone. I felt dead; felt tired. So. Tired.

I realized there was a mouth guard in my mouth like boxers wear and let it fall from my teeth. Where had that come from? I wasn’t wearing it before. The chair was stained with urine and feces. So were my pants. That was embarrassing, to say the least.

I got up off the chair and realized I could barely stand. The dizziness hit as I got up, and I bent over to puke though there was nothing in my stomach. Every muscle suddenly ached, and each protested in a new and interesting way about my demands for more action.

The bastard groaned, and I found the motivation to reach for my pack. It took some mostly futile yanking on the chair, but I managed to reach out to it. “Digg…” My throat was raw and the pain shot through my mind, but compared to before when I’d tried to use magic, it was muted somehow. I was already in so much pain it simply didn’t register as much as it might’ve. My pack had its own power; it didn’t need mine. My wand appeared in my hand, and that had its own power too.

A light coat of dust covered everything on the table. Were all the medical tools just for show? I remembered my blood being on everything. I couldn’t summon the knowledge that told me why that seemed important. My thoughts were moving through a fog as thick as mayonnaise. I couldn’t fathom why everything was suddenly dusty or why I was obsessed with the thought.

I tried zapping the manacles, but it didn’t work. The wand had its own power, but it took a small amount of mine to summon it. My pack worked. The wand should’ve worked as well? Maybe? I wasn’t thinking clearly. Between the fatigue and the pain, it was a miracle I was even on my feet.

If anything, it all made me want to scream again. I started kicking the man, slapping him back and forth. He woke up to my wand in his face.

“Take them off or die,” I growled. It was a hoarse, raspy sound. I couldn’t even be certain he understood me. It was supposed to be an idle threat, but at this range, I realized I could shove the sharp stick into his eye and into his brain. The nose would work too; it was a large crooked nose. He moved slowly unsnapping the cuffs with a twist and loud click.

“Now which way is out?” I asked, as my mind flooded with images, being taken to a cell, drug out of the van that brought me here. Hawknose’s name was Gerod Rosenthal; he told me while he was torturing me—while he was cutting me open with red-hot knives.

I remembered being taken away from this room to a cell and sleeping four times. There were three men and one woman who had tortured me. I knew them from the garage in Durham. Turns out I hadn’t killed Firehag, but she was mighty sore about her new scars. She took it out on me, which I didn’t understand. She was plenty ugly already.

Blackstar did the same a few times. He was angry about a limp and some busted ribs. I tried to explain that when you mix large rocks and gravity there can be unfortunate results that have entirely nothing to do with me. I failed in getting him to see it my way.

The Executive was named Steven Mendon. He even had a name like someone in middle management. I got a visit from him more than once. I cracked jokes about him being “disarmed,” or “disarming.” Some people have no sense of humor.

The memories flooded in. I felt myself stumble with the cascade in my mind. The moment of holding my head was when Hawknose attacked.

“Desenree Fot Impethnum!” I don’t know what he did, but it must’ve been mind magic, because I didn’t feel a thing. Tema, you b***h. The look of shock on his face didn’t last as long as I might’ve wished.

He recovered long before I did. There was a knife in his hand, and I watched as it came towards me. I was supposed to do something. I needed to move, but my arms and legs felt like they had a building attached to them. The knife went into my side. It heated up like an iron, cauterizing the wound as it burned deeper into me. He came in under my lowest rib and up, going for my lungs. I screamed, which was a good sign actually.

I brought my teeth together and grabbed him by the back of the head. We were about the same height, and I saw the determination to live in his eyes. He probably saw the same fire in mine. Mine was stronger. I brought my wand up beneath his chin and screamed again as he stabbed deeper into me.

“Fire.” I knew I was dead. I wasn’t scared; I was angry. Cold anger. I don’t have a temper. I’ve never had one. When I get angry I don’t want to fly off the handle screaming and yelling. I want to sit back with a nice cigar and watch your opened throat bleed all over my shoes. “Die you piece of shit.”

The body that fell to the ground didn’t have much of a head left. I could’ve cared, but I decided against it. I wanted even more. I wanted to tear this place to the ground. Unfortunately, that was the anger talking, and despite how strong it was at the moment, I couldn’t afford to be thinking with my killer instinct… well, not anymore.

I took a deep breath, which was hard, and yanked the knife out. Bad move. He’d been going for my lungs and must’ve made it on that last push. I couldn’t breathe. I fought for air and nothing came.

Dammit, I wouldn’t die like this. Not like this! Covered in s**t and struggling for breath. Pathetic! Useless! Not me! “No!” The scream came out as a gurgling noise.

“Gau…Ga…” I croaked out. The large gauze bandage appeared in my hand and I ripped open the package, pressing it to my side. The blood, dirt, and grime would interfere with the spell. The wound had to be clean for it to work best. It wouldn’t be full strength, but maybe it would be enough to keep me alive.

I didn’t remember falling, but I was sitting on the floor with my back against the chair. Still struggling to breathe. It was slightly easier each time. It took twenty-three breaths before the stabbing pain subsided to a dull ache. Breathing was merely painful; not an excruciating exercise in futility.

Not sure why I counted. I guess I didn’t have the energy for anything else. I had to get moving. If someone walked in right now…

The thought didn’t bear finishing.

Hawknose didn’t have much on him, but it was more than me. I took the forty-seven dollars out of his wallet, his iron knife, and dropped one of the candles on his body. I could only hope it was symbolic of where he ended up.

I put on my pack and looked over the table. My phone was smashed to hell and the box I’d bought at Grace’s was just sitting there. I hadn’t had anything else in my pockets. At least I couldn’t remember if I did.

I gathered up everything, including the shackles, and made my way out. I didn’t see anyone in the narrow passages. There were never people in the halls when I was moved from the torture room to the cell with the cot, but just in case, I kept my wand out in front of me as I stumbled along, leaning against the wall for support while I walked.

I was leaving blood everywhere. That wasn’t good. Not to mention the puddle Rosenthal was laying in. Only most of it was his.

There were at least four warlocks left. The salt and pepper haired Blackstar, Firehag, The One-armed Executive, and one whose face I couldn’t remember, covered in a black shroud. That one didn’t seem to notice me. Whoever they were they seemed far more concerned with physically beating the hell out of Blackstar, but I swore to myself I was going to watch them all die.

Anyone of them could track me or kill me with a fresh enough sample of my blood. I only needed everyone to stay out of here for a day or so, and it would be useless, but for all I knew I was going to come round the next corner and find them all seated playing a nice game of Arkham Horror.

The way out was a long spiraling passage going mostly up. I’m not sure how I got so lucky, but when I got to the top the moon was near full and Blackstar’s hideout was behind me. An underground warren of caves and tunnels, no doubt dug by an elephant-sized badger with no sense of direction.

I pointed my wand at the entrance and let loose with a rage I’d never felt. All my pain, anger, and fear. At its core, the wand was an amplifier. I caved the whole damn place in. That takes care of the blood and had the added benefit of feeling good. Weak or not Blackstar, I’m coming to kill you.

***

I camped by an empty field, under a stand of trees more than three miles away from the now-buried warren. Camped is just a nice way of saying that’s where I collapsed when I couldn’t walk any further and fainted. It was sunny and warm when I woke up, at least. I didn’t mind passing out until after I woke up. It was unlikely I’d run into any vampires or warlocks in the middle of nowhere, but unlikely was far from impossible.

Sleeping on the ground had taken all the warmth from me, and I was worried until I realized it was going to be a scorcher today.

I got up and started walking, shivering from cold flesh and blood loss. The sunlight was a blessing. My wand was nearly spent. I could tell from the dryness and cracks along its length. After a display like that, it could’ve exploded.

I sighed. Replacing it was a three-week long ritual that almost killed me each time. It was powerful, even though it only did one thing. The idea of facing Blackstar without it did not appeal to me one bit. Even with it, I’d have to be three moves ahead. I could outsmart some jumped up cartoon villain wannabe; just didn’t know how yet.

It turned out I was west of Raleigh past Jordan Lake in the middle of nowhere. The lake was like any other—dirty brown water—but if it was good enough for baboons and my hunter-gatherer ancestors, it was good enough for me. I gulped until my stomach hurt and then sat under a tree. I passed out again. Can’t say for how long… more than a minute, less than a day.

I got to 64 and hitchhiked into Apex, which is to say I walked. No one picks up hitchhikers in this day and age. Especially not ones limping along, shivering, covered in dirt and blood. At least I was wearing black.

It was late afternoon by the time I got into town. I hobbled up to a gas station that was mostly empty. The cashier was a middle-aged man. Tall and thin, with brown hair and eyes that looked me over and were not impressed.

“Hello,” I said, trying to sound as lucid as possible. “Can you call me a taxi, please? Any taxi’ll do. Thanks.” I walked out before he could answer or complain about the smell. People were fine with helping, as long as you didn’t need much.