Summoned Chaos (16 page)

I looked from the slowly mutating deer to the ripple shimmering before us. Holding my blade before me in case something tried to jump through the opening, I approached it. Thankfully, the other side seemed unoccupied. I lowered the sword slightly and re-examined the rift. It hummed musically, the beat of the pulses almost pleasant.

My stomach clenched with dread.

I motioned Quinn forward. “You’re more powerful than I am. Tell me what you feel.”

She frowned, but walked up next to me. Then she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “It’s pretty. Like a guitar perfectly in tune.”

“Exactly. This is by far the most stable rift I’ve encountered. Even more than the one the other day.”

She opened her eyes. “So?”

“This one isn’t broken,” I said softly.

Everyone stared at the window to another realm. What horrors lay on the other side? What creatures might cross onto our plane of existence to threaten all species, human and paranormal, if this was left open?

Quinn balked I drew my sword and dragged it across my forearm. “What are you doing?”

I winced, holding my bloody arm over the blade. “Closing this thing.”

“By yourself?” Steve asked.

“Normally I’d call this in to HQ, but considering what happened last time, that seems like a bad idea.”

“They’re gonna be pissed if they find out,” he said.

The runes on my sword glowed brighter with every droplet of blood until the metal erupted with red light. I held the blade in front of me, examining my handiwork. The energy pulsing from the runes beat in tune with my heart. “Then let’s not tell them.”

Steve and Quinn watched in silence as I slowly inserted my sword into the rift. Like with the one at the farm, raw energy overwhelmed me. But unlike my previous attempt, this time I didn’t feel the sense of urgency.

Instead, I allowed myself to reach out with my senses and fully explore the phenomenon.

The feeling was intoxicating. It was like plugging my body into an electrical socket that was powered by sex and lightning. My Skill tingled and my body hummed in tune with the pulsing of blue light.

This was true power, not the weak parlor tricks the Skilled played with every day. The devastation or healing that someone could produce from this would be unparalleled.

If I could only harness a little more, I could truly reach my full potential as a Warlock.

Maybe even change the world.

A breath of cold air disrupted my concentration. Like a dream upon waking, the thought faded quickly. I searched inside my mind, desperate to recover it, but realized it wasn’t my own. Another presence was in the rift with me, hiding just outside my senses. It owned the thought and emotions tied to it, but it was vanishing. I reached for it, hoping for answers, only to have it slip farther away like an echo disappearing into the distance.

It’s okay
, I thought.
I
won’t harm you.

It paused.

I held my breath. My sword flashed brightly as my heart thundered.

It backtracked slowly, moving closer, until it stopped just outside my grasp. A wisp of ethereal mist stretched tentatively toward me, brushing against my Skill like a feather on skin.

I gasped. Something about it was familiar.

It recoiled, emotions flaring like fireworks at night.

Fear, anger, shock. They crashed over me, swelling like a river during a storm. I fought against the deluge, desperate to touch the presence again. To know why I recognized it.

“Uh, Marcus?” Steve asked.

My mind faltered and with it, my connection with the rift. The presence escaped, disappearing for good in an instant.

“Dammit, Steve,” I said, annoyed. “I almost had it.”

“No, dude. Something’s coming.”

I barely registered the sound of branches snapping before a pack of beasts plowed into the clearing. They were like pumas on steroids with long, gray fur that was matted with mud and thin tails that sliced through the air like razors. Rows of sharp teeth protruded from their upper lips.

The pack made a beeline for the suffering deer, pouncing on it before anyone could move. The deer released a horrified shriek that was silenced by a swipe of an enormous paw. The predators devoured the animal, reducing it to carrion in a matter of seconds. Several fought over the scraps.

The rest turned their bloody snouts and hungry eyes on us.

“I’m no longer having fun,” Steve grumbled as the beasts raced toward us.

Chapter Twelve

Fight and Flight

We dove into the woods at a full sprint, each in a different direction.

The creatures paused, sniffing the air as if trying to decide which one of us they wanted to pursue first.

Half of them chose to follow me.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I said, huffing as I raced through the woods. I’d been so shocked by my experience with the rift that I’d completely frozen.

A better Warlock would have had combat spells at the ready.

A better Warlock wouldn’t allow himself to get distracted.

Running, however, loosened my mental constipation. I quickly flipped through my mental list of spells before settling on an oldie, but goodie. I scooped up a hunk of dirt, spun and hurled it at the lead predator like a fastball. The mud-ball solidified, slamming into the beast’s head with a crack.

The puma didn’t even flinch.

“Crap,” I shouted, weaving behind a tree as the closest beast swiped at me. Claws met bark and the creature snarled in frustration.

Slipping between two bushes, I drew my Glock with my free hand, spun and squeezed the trigger. One of the hollow points missed, but the other two struck the flank of the nearest predator. It yelped, but kept coming.

With simple spells and conventional weapons doing little damage, it was time to bring in the big guns.

I ran a hand through a large shrub, calling out with my Skill. The fauna around me responded, giving themselves to me. The trees, old and sturdy, fortified my powers. They poured their strength into me, filled my senses, allowing me to tap deeper than I could have alone.

Yanking my sword-hand skyward, I ripped the surrounding roots from the ground. The creatures hit them at full speed, tripping over the gnarled, twisted minefield. Bones cracked and the lead predator collapsed to the ground with a horrific shriek. The remaining two beasts struggled to gain their footing, slashing and snapping at the root-trap.

Since the Glock was apparently ineffective, I shoved it into the holster, then I tapped deep into my Skill. Energy flowed into my system and I launched myself at the three trapped beasts. Sunlight glinted off the glowing red steel as I swung my blade overhead, then drove it through the skull of the injured creature. The impact pinned the creature’s head to the earth and I felt, rather than saw, the tip of my sword punch into the soggy dirt beneath our feet.

Whether to escape or attack, the surviving predators thrashed wildly at their trappings. Jerking my sword free, I spun, intercepting a swipe from the nearest surviving beast. The paw landed several feet away with a bloody thump.

My attacker’s agonized scream died when I drove my blade though its throat.

Pain exploded down my arm as a talon from the third predator nicked my bicep. Dropping my sword, I gripped the wound.

Heat like fire filled my body and my muscles began to feel heavy. The world tilted. I staggered sideways, my ears ringing.

The beast clawed at the roots, slashing them into kindling. Snarling, it extricated itself from the trappings.

Red eyes met mine.

I reached for the Glock, but my fingers struggled to find the grip.

The creature hunched as if to leap, but shrieked when Quinn buried her scimitar into its side. It snapped at her, but she yanked her sword free and ducked beneath the large snout. With a quick swipe, she separated the head from the body, spinning as she danced away from the fountain of blood.

The corpse dropped to the ground, twitched once, then went still.

“Are you okay?” she asked, running over to me.

“Woozy, but I’ll manage.”

She bent to examine my injury, frowning as she gently pulled the ripped cloth aside. Her pretty face was pink with exertion and her eyes, so green, filled with worry. Maybe even love.

I liked the thought of that.

“Superficial,” she said, then she placed a hand over the wound and murmured a Healing Spell. Warmth replaced fire as the skin knitted together. The sharp pain subsided, leaving a dull ache in its place. When she finished, she wiped my blood on her pant leg. “That will have to do. I’ll fix the rest later, but right now we need to help Steve.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And where is he?”

“Last I saw he was near the rift dealing with at least two of these puma things.”

We backtracked to the clearing as fast as my shaky legs would allow, pausing only so I could recover my sword from the killing grounds.

“There!” Quinn pointed, then rushed into the meadow.

The bodies of a half-dozen beasts littered the forest floor, all of them with spines bent in unnatural angles. Another baker’s dozen surrounded Steve, who was systematically dodging claws and teeth like a matador.

One of the pumas snapped at Quinn as she approached, but she twirled out of the way with the grace of a ballerina. Steve kicked the creature sideways, exposing its soft underbelly. Fur and skin splayed open, dumping organs onto the ground, as Quinn gutted the animal.

The last surviving creature leapt at Steve, sinking its teeth into his forearm. My friend never made a sound. Instead, he grabbed it by its hind legs with his good hand, jerked it overhead, then slammed it to the ground. Bones snapped like kindling and the creature went limp. The Minotaur raised a boot, then stomped whatever life remained out of his attacker.

The sudden calm that fell over the meadow didn’t last long as more howls echoed through the trees.

“You have
got
to be kidding me,” I growled. “How many of these things are there?”

Steve cradled his injured arm. “More than I care to deal with.”

A Marine Corps buddy of mine had once told me that there was a line between Tough Marine and Smart Marine. With two thirds of our group hurt, it was time to be the latter.

I slid my sword back into its sheath. “Okay, kids, we’re out of here.”

“What about the rift?” Quinn asked, following as we ran back to where I’d parked our car.

The howls were almost on top of us. My bowels gurgled in fear.

“Survival first.”

“Agreed!” Steve said, scooping Quinn and me each in an arm as if we weighed nothing. He carried us toward the car at a bone-jarring pace. Blood from his injury soaked into my shirt, but the Minotaur seemed completely oblivious to damage as we flew through the woods. Behind us, another pack of creatures galloped into view.

The Minotaur vaulted fallen trees like a hurdler, covering more ground in thirty seconds than the three of us had in the ten minutes of walking. We punched out of the woods and into the gray dampness of the grass alongside a major highway. Steve skidded in the wet grass, then bolted toward the large, black Suburban I’d borrowed from my father.

“Crank it up,” he said, dropping Quinn and me by the driver door. I fumbled to unlock the car, then tossed my sword in the back as we all piled in.

The engine roared to life and I punched the gas. The car fishtailed wildly, but snapped on course when the tires hit the pavement. I pulled across the shoulder and into the right lane of the highway, cutting off a small truck in the process. The driver yelled at me in my rearview mirror, but his eyes went wide with shock as one of the pursuing creatures crashed into the side of his cab. It stumbled, then sprinted after us. Three more of its friends fell in behind it.

“I really hate those things,” I muttered.

Quinn crawled over the rear seat. “Pop the back window!”

Having no idea what she was thinking, but not really caring, I punched the button on the dash. Quinn pushed the window upward. She reached out, opened her hand like a claw, then swiped it to her right. The lead predator was hurled sideways, bouncing twice before coming to a stop in the far lane.

“Nice,” Steve said over the sound of squealing tires. “Also, gross.”

I swerved around a small sedan, then pulled back into the right lane. The remaining creatures vaulted over the sedan and continued after us.

“Incoming!” Quinn shouted as the lead beast juked past her Air Spell and launched itself at the car. It landed on the roof with a thump and claws against the metal, filling the cabin with a deafening shriek. I jerked the wheel, hoping the move would shake the animal, but talons punched through the headliner as it hung on.

Steve pulled my sword from the sheath. “I’m just gonna borrow this for a sec.”

Before I could answer he drove it into the center of the roof.

There was a soft thump and this time when I snapped the wheel back and forth, the body of the creature slid down the side of the car. The Suburban’s rear bounced as the back tires rolled over the creature, then crashed violently back to the pavement. The broken corpse of the animal tumbled several yards like a rag doll before skidding to a halt.

Thankfully, it didn’t move.

Unfortunately, the Suburban did. The wobble was small at first, but became more pronounced with each passing second.

“Nice poker,” Steve said, pulling my blade out of the headliner.

I nodded, but was too focused on the shaking of our ride to respond. Behind us, the remaining predators veered off the highway and headed back into the woods. I waited until they vanished into the brush before easing off the gas.

The wobbling decreased, so I pulled onto the shoulder and allowed the Suburban to slow on its own.

“We’re stopping?” Steve asked, staring at the woods as I set the emergency brake.

“Feels like we have a blown tire. Besides, I have a hunch those things don’t want to play anymore. At least, for now.”

The Minotaur huffed. “I think I’ll trust your hunches from here on out.”

“Ditto,” Quinn muttered.

Several cars pulled onto the shoulder behind us.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Steve said, applying pressure to his bloody arm. “This was way more interesting than I thought it’d be.”

Quinn crawled back over the rear seat and examined Steve’s arm. She ran her hands over the bloody flesh, then murmured a basic Healing Spell. The flow of blood decreased to a trickle as the skin knitted loosely together. The color drained from her face and she leaned back. “Sorry. That’s all I have left. That last spell tapped me.”

Steve flexed a muscle in his arm. “This is fine. Besides, it takes more than a mutated squirrel to slow me down.”

Quinn smiled weakly, but I frowned.

“Squirrels? Are you kidding?”

“Actually, yes,” Steve said. “I have no clue what those things are, but I can guarantee you they aren’t paranormal.” Chills ran through my body. If Steve was right, then we’d either just encountered an unknown species or one from a different world.

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me, I’ve dealt with a lot of creatures in my day. The paranormal clans might prefer to live in isolation, but we keep tabs on one another. Mutation or not, those beasts are not part of my end of the planet.”

There was only one way I knew they could have arrived uninvited to our realm.

Through a rift.

Oh hell.

Steve drummed his fingers on the seat. “So, now what?”

I gritted my teeth as a large crowd gathered around the vehicle. Half of them stared in shock while the other half whipped out their phones and started taking pictures.

It was only a matter of time before the authorities and the media arrived.

Quinn and I locked eyes. Her face was filled with fear. Attention like this was the last thing she needed. Normally she’d run, but between the flat tire and at least two surviving predators in the woods, she was stuck.

Guilt gnawed at me.

“Unfortunately,” I said heavily, keeping my eyes on Quinn, “now I
have
to call this in.”