Gray witch, p.22
Gray Witch, page 22
While we waited for the diva, who had somehow managed to travel with all his remaining wigs in their protective cases, the rest of us pulled on what clothes we had available and ordered room service for breakfast. This was going to be a long day, and a full stomach would go a long way toward improving it.
The Amherst Inn hadn’t changed since our last visit. From the outside, it appeared to be sinking in, and it made me curious how long this charade of rot had been in the making for people in town to accept it as a natural progression of neglect.
The glamour alone would have sent most prospective guests around the loop in the driveway on their way somewhere better, yet there were signs, such as our modern suites, that Mr. and Mrs. Amherst had been overhauling their inheritance prior to their disappearances.
Rather than give Trinity and Markus a heads-up we were coming for them, we left the SUV in the parking lot of the hotel where Clay and Colby had been staying. The short walk across the street to the woods gave me time to quash worries about my future to focus on the Amhersts’ fate.
“I knew you’d be back.” Malcom Holmstrom stepped into my path. “Didn’t I say, Emmett?”
A beat later, his younger brother emerged. “Sure did.”
Barely past noon, and these jokers were walking about as if the sun wasn’t a deterrent for them.
“Those punk kids told us to hunt you down,” Malcom explained, “but why waste the energy?”
“I thought you hated all things paranormal?” I kept them talking to get an idea if they were running on autopilot or if their summoners were nearby. “Yet you’re killing on command? For witches.”
“Don’t have much choice.” Malcom gestured down at himself. “Damn kids have our nuts in a vise.”
“Then why the saucy wink that night in the woods? You seemed plenty in control of yourself then.”
“Ours is a sacred mission, and those kids have no right to dictate our kills. The Lord does that.”
“We only kill the damned,” Emmett added. “Not innocent humans.”
“You understand that innocent and human aren’t synonymous, yes?”
And, based on our intel, their streak of murdering humans they pegged as paranormals was still going strong. If they hadn’t figured that out yet, there was no point in educating them. They would be dead soon enough.
Dead again?
Dead for good?
Whatever.
“Don’t try to get in our heads.” Malcom clicked his tongue at me. “We’re smarter than that.”
“That wasn’t an attempt at reverse psychology so much as it was an observation, but sure.”
“You’re pretty.” Emmett studied me. “I can feel how evil you are, witch. Evil shouldn’t be pretty.”
“I thought about cosmetic surgery. A mole here, a chin hair there, but it was out of my price range.”
“She thinks she’s funny.” Emmett prowled closer. “You’re not funny, little witch.” He lunged, his jaw unhinging, stretching until he could have fit my whole head in his mouth. “You’re dead.”
Yanking magic from Colby, I blasted Emmett, who exploded into ectoplasmic lumps that jiggled and wiggled as they began merging into a cohesive whole again.
“You’re gonna die for that.” Malcom ran at me, his lips parting. “No one hurts my brother.”
“Sorry, but I’m too busy to die right now.” I repeated the effort, blasting Malcom to bits before he showed me his fillings. “Have your people call my people, and we’ll set something up for later.”
“Let’s go.” Clay nudged me toward the house. “They won’t stay jelly for long.”
We reached the house without issue, but raised voices warned us the siblings weren’t happy. We crept to the azalea bushes planted beneath the kitchen window overlooking the backyard and hunkered down to listen in. The curtains had been drawn, so there was little chance of us being seen, and their voices were loud enough I doubted we would be overheard either.
“The Boos should have returned by now,” Markus snapped. “Something is wrong.”
“You’re paranoid,” Trinity countered. “They’re dragging their feet, as usual.”
“What if those agents circled back? They’re not just going to forget about us. What if they found the bones?”
“We would know if our onryōs had been vanquished, wouldn’t we?”
“I don’t know.” His footsteps retreated as he began pacing. “Any word from Aspect?”
“He hasn’t been online.”
“What about Bowser or Dreadnaught?”
“Nothing since yesterday.”
“Aspect said he would be in touch. It’s been three days. He never goes that long between check-ins.”
“Maybe they caught him.” I could almost hear her shrug. “He’s the one passing out arcane information. Maybe he gave the spell to the wrong person, and they turned on him. Or maybe one of the others summoned a badass they couldn’t control, and it killed them.”
The silence told me Markus was considering this as a possibility.
“We need to find the Boos.” His heavier footsteps grew closer. “Let’s go yank on their chains.”
“Good grief.” Trinity huffed. “I have three orders to fill. I can’t keep running off to play with your toys.”
“You helped me summon them, so it’s your responsibility to help me control them.”
“I wouldn’t be stuck traipsing around in the woods if you hadn’t been determined to have the Boo Brothers.”
“They weren’t my pick, and you know it.” His annoyance rang clear. “Aspect chose the Boos for us.” He didn’t sound happy about it either. “Two of us, two of them.”
“Just think.” She sighed. “You could have summoned the Baymont Butcher, Trixie Vein, or Gigi Savage.”
“Either way, you owe me,” he clipped out. “For Dad.”
Another quiet descended that was somehow louder than the first.
“I’m sorry.” Markus exhaled. “I shouldn’t have gone there. What he did to you…”
“He deserved to die,” she said without an ounce of remorse.
“No argument here.”
The rustle of clothing and shuffle of feet made me think they might have hugged, but it was brief.
“Let’s go.” She forced a brighter tone. “I have to be ready for the big tournament next Saturday.”
“Forget the tournament.” He joked with her. “I’m still waiting for an upgrade on my beard.”
The siblings’ banter made them easy to track as they exited the house and entered the yard, all smiles and chatter. They had committed atrocious acts, and they didn’t care. They had gone dark side too long ago to save if their cavalier attitudes were any indication.
We eased around the side of the house and intercepted them before they reached the tree line.
“Markus and Trinity,” I began, and that was all the warning they required to bolt.
The brother appeared to be the instigator, so I wanted more people on him.
“Clay, you and Asa go after Markus.” I jerked my chin at the girl. “I’ll go after Trinity.”
The guys weren’t happy with their assignments, but oh well.
“This only ends one way,” I shouted to her. “Surrender, and you can save your brother.”
“You’re a black witch,” she panted. “You just want my heart.”
The oddities of my heritage and powers urged me to embrace my new truth. “I’m a gray witch.”
“You must really think I’m dumb. There’s no such thing.” Her voice rose to a fever pitch, a spell falling from her lips that trailed to me. “Malcom, I summon thee.”
“Crap.” I put on a fresh burst of speed, determined to seize her before he caught me. “Trinity, stop.”
Two thirds of the eldest Holmstrom brother materialized before me, and I smacked right into him.
“Oh, hello.” He shoved me back while I was off balance, then swiped my leg out from under me. “I was hoping we’d meet again.”
“You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”
“Well,” he said, chuckling, his hand going to the absent portion of his head, “I am missing half my brain.”
“I can’t tell much difference, to be honest.”
Back on my feet, I kicked his hip, spun him, then thrust my wand up toward his chin. He leapt aside, dodging the strike, then rolled under my defenses to pop up in my face. His eyes were wild with exhilaration, and his chest pumped despite the fact his heart had long ceased its beating.
“This is going to be fun.” He punched up, catching me in the gut. “Never killed a gray witch before.”
A sharp hurt radiated through me from the point of impact, and that was when I understood.
“You stabbed me. That’s so…” I pulled the ectoplasmic blade from my gut, and it turned to goop in my hand, “…disgusting.” I brought my knee up between his legs, and he doubled over panting. “If I get ghost cooties from this, I’m going to carve your bones into beads and pass them out to witch covens as souvenirs.”
“You bitch.” He squinted up at me. “That fucking hurt.”
“Use your brain.” Awkward. “The half you have left.” I barreled on. “You’re dead. Your heart doesn’t have to beat. Your lungs don’t have to fill. You don’t have to experience pain. You’re dead, capiche?”
His reactions were based on responses he would have had while he was alive, not stimuli he felt now.
“Hey.” He straightened to his full height. “You’re right.” He laughed. “Mind over matter.”
When his fist plowed into my face—once, twice, three times without flinching—I realized the enormity of my mistake. Now that he knew he didn’t have to feel pain, he was choosing not to, and Trinity was getting away.
“I probably deserved that,” I admitted, ducking his next strike. “But, as much fun as this has been, I’ve got a summoner to catch.”
Before he could get in close again, I stabbed him through with my wand and lit him up until he exploded. A permanent solution it was not, but I was running low on options. And the bigger problem was sprinting away at breakneck speed.
Once he was scattered, I ran in the direction I last saw Trinity. About the time I started to fear I had chosen wrong, I found her clutching her side and panting through a cramp. She spotted me and forced herself to run, but it was clear she wasn’t used to the exercise.
Foam armor doesn’t make you work for it like wearing the real thing.
“Last chance.” I was closing in fast. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.” She began to limp. “Leave us alone.”
“I can’t do that.” I extended my arm and brushed her shoulder with the tip of my wand. Magic turned her muscles soft, and she collapsed in a heap I almost tripped over. “Sorry, kid, but you’ve got hard choices ahead of you.” I wanted her to decide before she saw her brother. “You need to answer some questions for me, and then we’re going to talk about your options.”
Exhaustion paired with the spell left her too weak to do more than mumble an affirmative.
“You and Markus summoned the Boo Brothers.” I started off easy. “How did you do it?”
“Advent.” Her breath hitched. “New guy in the guild. Played with us for months. Got tight with Markus. Even streamed a few movies together.”
“Movies like Game Over?”
A flicker of surprise lightened her eyes, and she stammered, “Y-yeah.”
“And then?”
“Markus bragged we were witches, said he bet he could summon an avatar like in the movie. Advent asked if we ever cast any spells.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Markus said no, and Advent hooked him up with a few easy ones to see if they would work.”
And just like that, the Amhersts handed Parish the perfect vehicle for their revenge.
“I’m guessing they did.”
“No.” Her voice went softer. “They didn’t.”
“Did Advent have a cure for that?”
“H-he told us if we wanted magic, real magic, we should kill our parents. That we would become more powerful if we…” she wet her lips, “…ate their hearts.”
Already knowing the answer, I still asked her. “And did you?”
“Our dad knocked us around a lot, and our mom let him.” Her jaw flexed. “One night, he hit me so hard, I was unconscious for twenty minutes. Markus was terrified. He thought Dad had finally killed me.” Her cheeks flushed. “Markus killed him instead.” Her eyes dilated. “I couldn’t believe it.”
“What happened next?”
“He told me we were in this together, that I had to do my part.” The tremble in her voice might have been remorse…or it might have been excitement. “I had to kill Mom to make us even.”
“Did you?”
“I didn’t think I could eat her heart. It was this bloody, messy glob of raw meat.”
The description alone was enough to have me tasting copper and craving salt.
“Markus went first. He took a bite out of Dad’s heart, and he…changed. The spells that didn’t work before worked then.” She swallowed hard. “We knew our parents were witches, but they didn’t practice. They didn’t have enough magic. I think…maybe…that was why Dad hated us so much. Markus and I weren’t powerful, but we had something. I think Dad…that he…wanted it, and since he couldn’t have it, he decided to beat it out of us too.”
The grandmother had power, which Mr. Amherst must have grown up envying. But for his kids to have a spark where he had none? I could see how that would turn him bitter, but it was no excuse. There was none for harming children.
“How many people did you kill?”
“Me?” Her eyes rounded. “None.”
A glint of humor slipped her careful mask, and I discovered which side of the line she fell on.
“Malcom?” Trinity tried to recover the remorseful act, but I had seen through it. “He must have killed four, no five, people.”
“Did Malcom choose the victims, or did you?”
“Let’s see.” Her forehead scrunched. “There was the cop who came to the inn after customers reported shouting, saw me bleeding in a corner, and left. There was a teacher who suggested therapy would help me cope with the abuse. She could have reported my parents, she could have saved us, but she didn’t. Then there was the preacher who told us to pray for our parents. There was a boy from school who told me he loved me, used it to get in my pants, then posted it online for all his friends to enjoy.” She counted them off on her fingers. “I feel like I’m leaving someone out, but that’s four.”
“Do you feel any remorse?”
“Do you think they lost any sleep over me?”
“You understand there are consequences for your actions.”
“Worth it,” she told me. “No regrets.”
Had the defiant glint in her eyes not reminded me so much of myself, I might have joined the long line of people who had turned their backs on this girl and decided she was someone else’s problem. But I thought about Clay, and how the hand of friendship he extended had pulled my head above the waterline when I was drowning in the same black magic addiction thrumming through Trinity.
Finally, I brought her around to a topic that had been preying on me. “Why Mystic Realms?”
“Mystic Realms is iconic. It’s the most popular MMORPG ever. Nothing else comes close. There were like twelve million subscribers last I checked, and over one hundred million accounts.” Her enthusiasm leaked through. “If you were going to recruit gamers for, well, anything, that’s the place to do it.”
Niggling fears that Parish had chosen Mystic Realms for Colby-related reasons subsided, mostly.
“Fair enough.” I could see the logic. “Why LARPers?”
“Markus and I had a club, so it was easier to explain meeting up with the others as role-playing.”
That tracked, which put me further at ease, allowing me to hope Colby remained a secret a while longer.
“Tell me where you buried the bones, and I’ll cut you a deal.”
“You’re not going to let me go.” She scoffed. “Not after that speech.”
“You’re too dangerous to be released unmonitored,” I agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you’re hopeless.”
“Feeling maternal?” Her voice dripped with acid. “You and your boyfriend looking to adopt?”
“I work for the Black Hat Bureau.” I watched for her reaction but saw none. “Do you know what that is?”
“Do you really think, based on what I’ve said, that our family sat around the dining table and had discussions on magic?” She cocked her head as the name sank in. “I thought you said you were FBI.”
“Black Hat is like the FBI, but for people like us. The agents are just like you. Killers who are given a choice. Join or die.” I drew in a sharp breath. “The choice is yours.”
“You’re a killer?” She swept her gaze over me. “You seem too…do-goody.”
“Join up, and you’ll find out just how do-goody I am. I have a reputation I’ve earned, and I’m not proud of it.”
“What about Markus?” Interest spiked her tone. “Will he be given the same choice?”
“We ask separately to ensure you don’t influence one another. It’s a lifetime commitment. You must be dedicated to the role, or you won’t last long. You won’t be partnered with your brother, either, since he’s part of the reason we’re having this chat, but you’ll be able to visit him during your off time. If you survive training. You won’t be kept apart unless you give the Bureau reason to put those measures in place.”
“I’ll have to be an agent the rest of my life?”
“That’s the deal.”
Eternal servitude or immediate demise.
“Not much of a choice, is it?”
“You already made the big decisions. These are the consequences.”
“Can I still…?” Her gaze dipped to her hands. “It probably sounds lame to you, but can I still LARP?”
“Depends,” I said wryly. “Can you LARP without murdering anyone?”
“I’m in it for the wigs, and the costumes.”
A game.
It was all a game to her.
The summoning. The evil spirits. The deaths.
