Death's Ethereal Enemy: Mystery (January Chevalier Supernatural Mysteries Book 4) Page 10

  The doors opened and the man himself appeared. “I’m glad you like it. I made it,” he said, proudly.

  January was about to call him out on his overconfidence when her eyes met Max’s. Mind reader… she really needed to remember that.

  “Come in. There’s someone here who’s been missing you,” Emerson said, moving aside to let her pass. It didn’t escape her notice that he completely ignored Gregory.

  January walked into the cathedral-like room. It was a strange space to find beneath a facility which had such a military appearance. Concrete and steel were nowhere in evidence within this vast hall. Instead, massive oak beams arched across the ceiling, supported by pillars made of the same hardwood, larger than any oak tree January had seen. Surprisingly, aside from the door, nothing in the room was particularly frivolous. A fire roared in a huge fireplace across the room. There was even a circle of chairs and sofas gathered around it, as if the Old Ones liked to get cosy from time to time.

  Tonight was not one of those nights.

  At the end of the room, down the corridor of carved oak pillars, five thrones sat at the top of a brief flight of steps. Four of the seats were taken and the fifth was empty.

  Leah stood next to the central seat, looking more annoyed than January had ever seen her.

  “Leah!” she said, feigning surprise, but doing everything she could to make it real in her head.

  The vampire-witch managed a momentary smile.

  “I’m glad you’re still alive,” January said, allowing her temper to flare a little, as could be expected if someone had lost a friend and not known if they were alive or dead.

  “I’m glad, too,” Leah said, dryly.

  The vampire she stood next to pushed himself to his feet. January felt her attention jump straight across to him. He was a hard man to ignore.

  “I’m Warwick. You’ve already met Emerson, Max, and Cadence,” the Old One said.

  January tried not to gulp too noticeably. None of the Old Ones were small, but Warwick was one of the largest men she’d ever seen. He had to be around six-foot-seven tall and was incredibly broad to go with it. His shoulders were huge, as were his arms. Wild dark hair fell back from his forehead, cascading over his shoulders, and he had a formidable dark beard. To further add to his intimidating appearance, there were strange symbols tattooed up his neck and on the backs of his hands. She expected they covered most of his body. He was dressed in a suit of modern body armour. January bemusedly noted that it looked a lot more efficient than the elbow, knee, and shoulder pads that had been sewn into her ridiculous outfit.

  A horrible thought occurred to her. Was she going to be fighting him? She’d be crushed like a bug!

  Max smirked and laughed a little. Warwick gave him a curious glance, but the mind reader shook his head.

  “What can I do for you?” January said. She wasn’t going to waste any time with pleasantries. Saying ‘It’s nice to meet you’ would be a blatant lie, and there was a mind reader on the team who’d know it.

  Perhaps she should have beaten around the bush a little longer and tried to find out a thing or two that would help her, when she inevitably challenged their rule - but right now, she just wanted to do whatever they wanted her to do and get back home to her semi-normal life.

  Warwick walked down the steps until he was next to her, towering above. January was not short by anyone’s estimates, but she felt tiny next to Warwick and thought Leah looked even more doll-like. Speaking of Leah, the vampire-witch was watching her with dull eyes and an expression of hopelessness that January didn’t like one bit. What was supposed to be happening tonight?

  “I’ve heard a lot about you. Even before you worked for us,” Warwick said, circling her, like she was a prize pony at an auction. She supposed technically, she sort of was.

  “All good things, I’m sure,” January said, finally managing to summon some wit to the situation. Her nerves felt like they were on fire, being this close to the imposing group.

  Warwick ignored her quip. “I’ve heard so much, and yet, I’ve never seen it myself. The only person who’s ever witnessed you in action is Emerson. Leah, too, I suppose,” he added.

  Leah made eye contact with January, and January tried not to wince at the implication that Warwick put himself and his fellow Clan members above her. It was hard to imagine what it must be like to spend an eternity with company that constantly looked down on you.

  “Only a fool would take someone else’s word for an employee’s abilities. It’s long overdue that we witness what you have to offer in person.”

  A muscle twitched in January’s jaw. “What would you like me to do?” she said, wishing he’d just get to the point. At this rate her nerves were going to get to her.

  Warwick’s big face creased. January thought it might be what passed for a smile from him.

  “We have a few tests to run. There’s an arena at the heart of this base.”

  “You know I can’t change. This suit stops me.”

  Warwick claimed he wanted to witness her for himself, but January’s unicorn form was what she was most adept at using. It was the way she’d always fought for them.

  “We want to test… other things,” he said, and this time, he showed his teeth.

  For some reason, January’s eyes collided with Emerson’s. In them she saw annoyance and… before she could think the next thought she threw up a shield around her head, blocking out Max. Unfortunately, it was another invisible marshmallow, but it seemed to do the trick. Max tutted and looked away, leaving January to think her own thoughts, un-judged.

  Emerson had looked sad, the way someone would if all of their best-laid plans had just gone up in smoke.

  It didn't exactly fill her with confidence about what she was going to face.

  “Seeing as you’re getting to know me, how about I get to know you, too? What kind of person works for employers they don’t know?” she said, knowing that what she was doing now could hardly be called ‘working’. It was more like surviving.

  “You know enough. You’ve seen Cadence, Max, and Emerson in action. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be blocking Max out of your head right now.” Warwick frowned. “In a very unusual manner.”

  “What can you do?” she asked, hoping she’d get points for being bold.

  Behind Warwick’s back Leah shook her head, minutely. January stopped looking at her and held eye contact with Warwick.

  “We aren’t all superheroes,” he said, evasively.

  Leah winced some more and turned away.

  Silence stretched out in the room, until Gregory sighed in a truly depressing manner.

  Everyone turned to look at the vampire, but he had his head down.

  January flicked her gaze upwards before throwing a glare Emerson’s way. “Can somebody please fix him? Emerson, I know you’ve done something.”

  “Fixing something that may, or may not, be there is just another one of your tests,” Emerson said, sounding smug.

  January shot him a knowing look. Like hell it was. He was just being awkward.

  “Let’s just get on with this,” she muttered. Getting beaten up, or whatever was going to happen, couldn’t be much worse than having to spend more time in this dreadful company.

  If there were gods, they were probably laughing at her right now.

  A phantom appeared, little more than a shadow, standing next to Warwick. “Take her to prepare,” he said. The shadow moved past him and January walked after it, assuming she was supposed to follow.

  Gregory sighed again before she left the room but this time, she didn’t look back.

  11

  “This is not what I’d planned for you.”

  January stopped stripping off her jogging bottoms and was unsurprised to see Emerson hovering next to one of the wooden slatted benches. The phantom had taken her into a room reminiscent of a gym locker-room. There were white tiles on the floor and light-coloured wood fittings. The only difference between this and a fancy he
alth club was the rack of weapons next to the door at the opposite end of the room. January had been trying very hard to ignore them.

  “Can you give me a clue, now?” she asked, frustrated by words that meant nothing. All the Old Ones ever seemed to do was be evasive.

  “Sure… you’re going to be tested against whatever Warwick has cooked up.” He looked at her, his blue eyes icier than she’d ever seen. “You’ll regret asking him what he can do once this is over.” He shook his head. “Or maybe you won’t regret it, because it will all be over. Ruined,” he said.

  January’s curiosity was piqued. “Why do you care so much?” she asked, but she should have known better.

  Emerson dissolved into particles of light without answering the question.

  The second he disappeared, the door she’d come through opened, and Leah walked in.

  “I don’t have much time. The others think I’m leaving the miserable vampire somewhere where he won’t depress anyone until they decide what to do with him.” Leah shook her neck-length hair. “How quickly the mighty fall. Gregory seemed like a hard vampire to kill. A child could do it now.” The vampire-witch walked closer to her. “If you don’t get through this tonight, he’ll be gone, too. I’ll be stuck here forever.” Leah’s eyes fixed on hers. “Don’t die, and don’t turn your back on anything Warwick does.”

  She turned and walked back out of the locker-room, leaving January alone with her thoughts and a bunch of weapons. Am I supposed to choose one, like in Gladiator? she thought. Weapons had never been her style. She’d always had hooves, teeth, and horn.

  In her other form, she was a fighter. It was with no little panic that she realised in human form, she was not. All that was left was magic, and what could that do against something as powerful as Warwick?

  “Crushed like a bug,” she muttered.

  An amber light went on above the door and a voice counted down.

  Five, four, three…

  January desperately looked back at the rack of weapons, wishing she’d not wasted her time trying to think her way out.

  Two…

  She grabbed a shield and slid it over her left arm.

  One…

  A sword seemed to almost jump into her hand. There - at least her death would be cinematic material now. She rolled her eyes, imagining just how stupid she was going to look, waving a sword around.

  A buzzer sounded and the light went red. The doors swung open, and January got her first look at the arena.

  It was vast and completely empty. She took a step forwards and then another few, leaving the relative comfort of the locker-room behind. Her head turned from side to side, already ready for whatever was coming. Her eyes took in her surroundings at super speed, hunting for anything that could give her an advantage.

  There wasn’t much to see.

  The arena was clearly the Old Ones playpen. The floor, which must have stretched at least a mile wide in all directions, was only overlooked by a glass box, jutting out from the concrete and steel wall on a higher level. January could just pick out Emerson and Leah, looking down at her.

  Where was Warwick?

  She looked around, remembering Leah’s words.

  He was at the other end of the arena to her, halfway up the wall on a platform that stuck out, much like the viewing box. The difference was, he had no glass separating him from the arena. January didn’t think it was going to particularly bother him.

  “You chose weapons. Interesting choices. You can tell a lot about a person from the weapons they choose,” he said, not looking impressed.

  January tried not to think about the last-minute panic, when she’d grabbed the first things that had come to hand. Did he mean he could tell that she’d picked them at the last second, or was there some deeper meaning she hadn't even considered?

  She shook her head. All of these games were making her head spin.

  “Do I get to know what tests I’m going to be given?” she asked, unable to keep the apprehension out of her voice.

  Warwick looked at her in silence before he spoke.

  “No,” he said and the world went dark.

  January blinked.

  Her eyes were still open. Am I blind? she thought, already panicking. Her nose twitched and picked up the scent of forest floor. A second passed and she found she could see a little. There was a very faint blue glow, emanating from the sword. It allowed her eyes to pick up the leaf litter on the ground, and the trunks of the wizened trees. She used her witch sight and saw threads of silver magic all around - the same colour as the spells woven into her suit.

  Her nose twitched again and she realised she was back home. She was in Witchwood Forest!

  Don’t trust it, a voice whispered in her head. She wasn’t sure if it belonged to her, or not, but she believed the voice. She was still in the arena, and the tests had begun.

  Her first thought was that she needed to see. Her skin itched when she automatically tried to change and then remembered she couldn’t. Seeing in the dark had never been a problem in her unicorn form. You can’t rely on it! she thought, and this time, she knew it was her.

  Another instinct whispered that she shouldn’t stay here. Something was already coming for her. If she wanted to live through the night, she needed to move. NOW. The instinct screamed, and she dodged to the side, sliding between two tree trunks. Another instinct whispered to wait and she hesitated, holding her breath.

  Something was where she’d been standing a second ago. She could hear its heavy breathing. With her vision impaired, all she could do was reach out with her magic and feel what it was, the way she’d once tried to find out who was outside her door and had offended Gregory.

  The beast in the woods wasn’t any happier about her magical touchy-feely trick. She heard a growl and then the heart-stopping sound of something becoming momentarily airborne, before pouncing on its prey.

  Do something! Her brain screamed. January stuck the sword straight up with a grunt of effort. She pushed without thinking, sending her magic streaming out in a glowing black stream. It provided enough light for her to see inside the gaping maw of some foul, hell beast, before the light cleaved through its head, splitting it in two.

  January celebrated for half a second before realising that the creature, although dead, was still on a downward trajectory.

  “Nnnngh!” she said and tried to shield herself.

  Rubber! Why is it impossible to think of rubber in the heat of the moment? she thought, doing her best to scrabble and pull herself out from beneath the monster. Marshmallow-like strands of her shield had adhered to the foul fur and insisted on pulling her back. At least I’m still alive, she thought, finally getting free of the sticky, furry mess.

  Alive for now, she amended, once she was out.

  The forest had disappeared. The darkness was gone, too - although January wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

  She had a second to look up at Warwick and observe how bored he looked, before the mist drifted in. Once again, her vision was gone.

  January stood silent, watching and waiting. The air rippled, like someone shaking a large piece of fabric. January dove to the side, throwing up her shield as she did. Something made contact, clanging off it. She moved the shield to the side in time to see a thousand sharpened metal points all coming her way. Her mind screamed panic! But panicking would only get her killed - and who knew what state she'd wake up in, or if she’d even wake up at all? All invincible or immortal characters in stories had a hidden weakness. She thought the chances of a thousand bits of shrapnel slicing through her, and finding whatever that weakness was, were pretty good.

  She swiped the shield to the side, sending out another wave of raw, dark power. The metal pieces were slammed sideways. She heard them ricochet off the distant steel wall, like bullets.

  “Not staying here waiting,” she muttered and ran, hoping that Warwick could see just as little through the mist from his overlooking position as she could.

&nb
sp; She should have known better. The floor in front of her disappeared. She looked down into a bottomless cavern. To her horror, when she turned around, the floor vanished there, too. She was standing on a tiny island in the middle of a void - like a cartoon character. Unlike a cartoon character, neglecting to look down wouldn’t afford her magical powers to walk on air. Or would it?

  “It’s just an illusion,” she said. How could it be real? The building would have fallen down around them if something this deep appeared right at the centre. She didn’t see Warwick wanting that. Determined to show him she wasn't easily fooled, she stepped straight off the island.

  Then she kept walking.

  She should have expected the dragon. Well, maybe not a dragon - but something. Leah had warned her to never turn her back on anything Warwick did, and she’d just done exactly that.

  Had the hairs not risen up on the back of her neck, she’d have been a flambé. Her first thought, after dodging the initial scalding jet of flame, was that she may as well have kept her jogging bottoms on and not pranced around in this stupid suit. It wasn’t even fireproof.

  Her next thought was ‘Oh help, I’m going to die.’ The dragon had reared up and managed to lock her in its sights. She was right in the line of literal fire and had nowhere to go.

  Come on, January, haven’t you learnt anything? a voice in her head whispered. For some strange reason, she thought of Simon. This was exactly the sort of thing he’d find a way to slither out of, unscathed. Of course, Simon would probably have slithered out of the locker-room, before allowing it to get this far, but perhaps his methods still could be of some help. You’ve got to cheat! she thought.

  Any ideas of attempting to match the dragon’s strength with a fireproof barrier of her own disappeared. Instead, she focused for a second and disassembled the creature’s brain, turning it into separated atoms - the same thing she’d done to the prisoner she’d executed. Anyone with magical powers would be able to deflect something like that, but despite being a dragon, it was just a thing created by someone else. It had no defence against the simplest of her magic tricks.