Shadow Play Read online

  Garcia tried the gate again. It held true.

  "Evan," I pleaded, my voice cracking with desperation. "These are the people responsible. For the Star Island house. For the boat."

  My friend's eyes flashed recognition and he peeked at the yard beyond me. All he could see were the scattered wounded and dead. "Then give yourself up. Prove it in court. Set the record straight."

  I scoffed. "You know I can't do that."

  The sergeant lost his patience with me. "Eat floor, dumb shit!"

  Movement on the entrance's brick column caught my eye. One of the officers scaled the gate. Just as he vaulted one leg over the top, the column jerked a foot out of the dirt. He lost his balance and fell backward to the grass.

  Everybody jumped.

  "Ortega!" checked the sergeant.

  "Son of a bitch!" said the officer.

  Garcia scowled, aimed his weapon at me, and held his breath.

  "Don't shoot!" ordered Evan, jumping forward.

  The pistol rang out anyway. I was ready, hand up, palm out. The sergeant unloaded his magazine on me, shooting to kill. Half his barrage missed, the other was deflected to the ground in a shower of blue sparks.

  I had no choice.

  I shoved a wave of shadow at him, sweeping him off his feet. Garcia came down hard and rolled away with a grunt.

  Evan Cross defended his man without thought. He lowered his Colt Diamondback and fired a single shot below my guard. The round penetrated my shin, splitting apart on the bone. I dropped to my knee and glowered at Evan, shoving the same wave of shadow at him.

  My best friend had just shot me.

  I mucked up the ground around the officers as they attempted to regain their feet. The shadows clung to them and made simple movements a struggle. Meanwhile, I limped as fast as I could to Tyson Roderick. I had to finish the ritual before the road flares expired.

  I hopped awkwardly. I couldn't believe Evan shot me. So his threats hadn't been idle. Smug, self-righteous son of a bitch. I fought through the pain and collapsed at the edge of the water as Tyson pressed against his magical cage.

  "Sit down, asshole," I snarled, snaking the shadow around his neck and yanking him into the pool.

  Kita and the santero patiently waited out the confrontation in the grass. Smart move on her part. She'd tire before the zombie ever did.

  I still had time.

  Then the front gate creaked open.

  My shadow magic had been diverted elsewhere. Manifestations required focus. One trick at a time. The snare around Tyson meant the ground wasn't gummed up anymore. The gate wasn't locked. The cops readied their raid. Three lined up at the gate to push through while Ortega clambered over. He was nearly inside when the gate jumped again.

  What the hell was going on?

  Evan and Garcia forced the large gate open. Just a nudge. Then it slammed shut on them.

  The collision sent the officers tumbling several yards, but they were the safe ones. Besides the brick column bending and jerking, the metal spikes topping the gate elongated, each striking upward like a snake. The poles twisted into jagged spears. Two impaled Ortega as he attempted to vault past. The metal beams wound in haphazard directions, grew to twice their original height, and crisscrossed each other like a web. The gate was fortifying itself, making scaling it impossible.

  Chunks of metal and brick fell away as the earth rumbled.

  Beside me, the road flares popped out of the ground and blew away as easily as leaves on a breeze. Tyson dragged himself to dry land.

  The banishment spell was broken, but it didn't matter. I had bigger fish to fry now.

  For better or for worse, my poltergeist was back.

  Chapter 32

  Everybody paused to watch the gathering storm. My road flares hopped along the ground. The house's welcome mat slid through the grass. The discarded weapons that littered the floor, too. Whatever debris was loose in the yard became a liability, sucked to a fixed point as if attracted to a black hole.

  I scooped up my sawed off as it slid by me and returned it to the shadow for safekeeping. Kita had the same fortune as her fan slid within reach. Too late I saw her recover it. At my beckon, the santero zombie tried to drag her away. Kita answered with a swift slash overhead.

  The already-abused head of the zombie bounced away from its body, severed with surgical precision. The paper mage flipped to her feet as the thrall went limp. I guess it could only take so much.

  I locked eyes with Kita and circled her to keep the elemental at my flank. There were more players here than I'd anticipated. I couldn't figure my odds of coming out alive anymore.

  The winds picked up unnaturally, approaching the strength of tropical storm gusts. The gale tore at the hedges along the gate. Loose foliage glued against the metal bars, filling in the wall and obscuring the view. Evan and the other officers cursed. Not only were they locked out, but the curtains were drawn on them too. Sorry. Private show.

  "What is this?" demanded Kita, warily keeping an eye on the event.

  I shook my head in dismissal. This was something I'd counted on, but not like this. Not before my ritual was ready.

  Suddenly, behind the small mass of gathering objects, the greenhouse shattered. Every single pane of double-thick glass fragmented into jagged shards. Clay planters and pots followed suit. Then came the gardening tools. Rakes. Plows. Shovels.

  Before we knew it, the poltergeist was larger than it had ever been. And it was finished with land mammals. A long, flowing serpent with a dragon's face spun lazily in the air, unconcerned with the persistent winds.

  "It can fly now?" I asked hesitantly.

  The wraith materialized beside me and whispered. "It is a man. Nothing more."

  "Can you see him?" My companion stared silently. "Can you see him?" I repeated.

  "Not yet, brujo. But I will."

  The beast circled overhead twice, gaining both altitude and magnificence. Then the face locked on me and dove. I waited with pressed teeth as it bore down, until the newly-lit flares of its eyes blinded me, and phased out just before contact. The body of the ghost swept through my shadowy form. The glass, the metal instruments, they struck nothing but air.

  But whatever ghostly power held them together raked against my soul.

  I fell back, forced to physical form by surprise. Luckily, the tail of the dragon flew past without further contact. I rolled on the floor to follow the ghost's path. Its jaw widened and swallowed Tyson Roderick whole. A tunnel network of spikes and blades cut against the man's skin as Kita screeched in disbelief.

  But Tyson was no ordinary man. The dragon made another pass above us. As it surveyed the scene, it twisted in pain. It squirmed and spun in the air, grumbling and growling, like someone who forgot to take his Alka-Seltzer. It did that right until its belly exploded.

  Lava exploded in a sphere, raining down heat and ash. The poltergeist yelped as it split in two, head severed from tail. The elemental, now covered in searing rockskin, fell from the air and shook the earth when he landed.

  There was no time for celebration. The disparate pieces of the ghost that fell away never even hit the ground. They reversed direction and smoothly welded back together, barely worse for wear.

  I scanned the yard. Despite the torrent of wind whipping everything around, nothing organic was part of the ghost. The bushes blew against the gate, sure, but the leaves hadn't been sucked into the spirit. Likewise, the bodies on the floor, living and dead alike, lay static.

  When my eyes fell on the santero, I formulated a rough plan.

  "I'm gonna need your help," I told the Spaniard.

  Kita Mariko whipped her fan over her hand, revealing three origami figures. She flung them in the air and they grew into long white birds with pointed beaks. Ibises. Without a word of instruction, they separated and attacked the ghost in unison.

  The birds swooped, opportunistically gouging the dragon's body. It was an impressive display, but ultimately wasted. The poltergeist was too l
arge, made up of too many weapons. Its undulating body whipped against a bird and tore it to shreds. A tail lash took out another. And when the dragon had only one enemy to focus on, its razor-sharp teeth made quick work of the illusion.

  I'd fought this thing before. I knew direct attacks wouldn't work. I could crush and batter to my heart's content, but nothing would be effective unless I got at the spirit itself. While the dragon was distracted, I closed in on my downed zombie. Kita was within easy reach, and she took full advantage of the opportunity.

  The paper mage spun like a ballerina, holding the fan out as it extended in a radius around her body. I skidded to the ground like a runner sliding to base. The lethal edge of the fan sliced a few hairs from my head.

  In a practiced motion, Kita brought her weapon overhead as she spun and suddenly hopped forward. The fan crashed to the ground after I'd barely escaped through the shadow.

  "What is this?" I snapped. "A dance off? You'd better watch your back. In case you haven't noticed, that thing's trying to kill us."

  Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Enough antics, shadow witch. I kill you and all your tricks go away."

  "It's not me," I swore.

  I guess Kita wasn't a fan of the scientific method, because she stuck to her mistaken assertions. She thrust her fan at me. I sidestepped the attack but saw the extra sheets of paper too late. The trash uncrumpled and caught against my body, sticking to me like wallpaper. One ribbon held my left arm against my torso, essentially pulling down my defenses.

  I retreated from the paper mage. Another sheet of paper clamped over my mouth and nose, cutting off my air.

  I screamed. Or did my best to. I phased in and out of shadow, but the sheets came with me. The paper gag quickly became a buzzkill. My head grew light. That's right. Cisco Suarez, done in by a piece of paper.

  I was only slightly aware of another crash and explosion of fire. No doubt the elemental was still battling the poltergeist, but my ability to track current events rapidly deteriorated. I choked on stale breath and rolled on the floor, clawing at my sealed mouth.

  During my struggle (and only as a blur), I made out two red orbs watching me. Why didn't the wraith help?

  My fingers closed around the dagger in my belt. I brought the point above my face and hoped for the best. In a careless thrust, the knife punched through the paper and into my mouth. The blade sliced into my tongue. The warm blood flooding my mouth had never tasted so good. Anything for oxygen.

  I cut the rest of the paper away and stood just in time to block another fan swipe. I raised my arm, bracing for another disastrous blast. The explosion of force shoved me backward, but my boots were braced in the dirt. I stayed on my feet.

  Even more impressive, Kita fought off the energy as well. She stood over me, fan pressed against my forearm, me barely holding the weapon at bay.

  I winced under the strain as she forced me down. Blood trickled down my arm. Blue energy cracked against yellow. And I was slowly losing.

  She had both hands on the fan now so I swiped the knife at her. Her knee came up and battered my attack to the side. Then she kicked her bare foot against my grip, jarring the blade loose.

  Damn. The bitch could fight.

  Kita Mariko put her full weight on me. She couldn't have been more than a buck and a dime but I fell to my knees and she cackled. This was getting embarrassing.

  Now empty handed, I bit down on my tongue. Blood gushed from the already open wound. I spat in my palm and grunted, stirring the necromancy into action, feeling it take hold.

  Before the fan could cut through my tattoo, I grabbed Kita's stomach.

  Her flesh seared. Bits of shirt in contact with my hand turned to ash. Kita wailed and executed a double backflip to escape me. The pain was so unbearable that she didn't stick the landing and fell on her ass.

  I advanced on her. The elemental spun at Kita's distress. I remembered his ardent defense of her before. Except this time, I decided to put it to good use.

  I feinted with my hand. Kita extended her fan before her like a shield. If it had been a real blow, I'd have fewer fingers at best. Instead of attacking, however, I watched Tyson for his play.

  Lava projected from his mouth, right at yours truly. With a pull of the shadow, I yanked the elemental around. Not much, 'cause he was stronger than the force of my shadow, but enough to jar his superheated aim.

  The lava stream missed its mark and flew in between me and Kita. Before the elemental could correct, I erected my semi-spherical shield and winced at the pain I knew was coming. Then I thrust the blue energy into the lava, further diverting the molten flow.

  I grimaced as some lava got through and struck my hand, but the play worked. The brunt of the attack reflected into Kita. The lava struck her fan and sizzled. The paper mage recoiled at the glop. Tyson halted the flow and Kita rolled away, avoiding catastrophic damage. The smoking flesh on my hand thanked him.

  As the paper mage climbed to her feet, she and Tyson exchanged a relieved glance. Then she noticed the smoking fan in her hand.

  Whatever magic she'd imbued into it had been strong. More powerful than her other illusory creations. More powerful than my Nordic tattoo even. But like all paper, it burned like kindling. A clump of ashes spilled from her grip and blew away in the gale.

  The paper mage was disarmed.

  At that same moment, the poltergeist swept up the elemental from behind. Metal jaws crunched against rockskin. But once again, the clever ghost altered its tactic. Perhaps remembering the state of the scene when it had arrived, the dragon took Tyson up into the air then dove, slamming head-first into the pond.

  The volcanic elemental roared as the dragon's body barged ahead with unstoppable momentum, crashing against its head and using its entire serpentine body to rain down on its enemy.

  The collision kicked objects in the air and overwhelmed the shallow pool. Water splashed everywhere and was caught up in the violent torrent. It whipped at us and circled around like a hurricane. Steam, too, violently ejected from the pond as Tyson was consumed.

  "Run, Kita!" roared the elemental, as the dragon's tail buried it.

  The paper mage, ever contrary, did the opposite of what she was told. (I got the feeling she did that a lot.) She hurried to rescue Tyson from the rain of debris. I used the moment to recover my knife and return to the santero's body.

  I plunged the blade into his heart and spoke the words. "I'll need you for this," I said to the wraith, who appeared beside me and laid his withered hands on the corpse. My companion weakened the walls of the Murk while I traced a new pentagram in blood around the wound.

  We finished as the steam died away. Kita backed away from the mass of objects. They slowly twitched and came back to life. One by one they took to the air.

  "It's a ghost," I explained, marching past her to the pond. It was empty now. No water. Just a depression in the earth. I'd meant to use the pond as a window to the Murk, the pentacle doing double-duty against the elemental. But that plan was over with. Charred rocks at the bottom revealed the elemental's fate. Defeated, but not destroyed. Once again. I'd need to deal with Tyson Roderick another day.

  I dragged the santero's corpse and dropped it in the pile.

  "Whose ghost?" asked Kita, thankfully holding off her attack to watch me work.

  "You tell me. I killed him under your orders, didn't I?"

  She scowled as I searched the mass of objects. One road flare still burned. As the items overhead still twirled and converged in the air, I snatched the flare and stuck it in the santero's chest. Then, like a candle in a balloon, the flame ate up what oxygen it could before being extinguished.

  I pulled on the poltergeist. It fought against me, like spaghetti in my fingers, but for the first time, I could feel it. The pull of the ghost trap was unbearably strong, even to the ghost version of the Incredible Hulk. Unbearably strong but, unfortunately, not enough.

  "Feel free to join in any time you want," I grunted through clenched teeth. I use
d every ounce of my power, going lightheaded with the effort.

  That was enough to pull the poltergeist to the fringes. To drag it within reach of my companion. The Spaniard materialized beside me and joined in, and my grip strengthened.

  Little ol' me, Cisco Suarez, a humble necromancer turned shadow charmer, and a five-hundred-year-old wraith slash master of the dark arts—combined with the pentagram and Banishing a Ghost 101? This poltergeist didn't stand a chance.

  The floating debris cascaded lifelessly to the grass around us. The santero wasn't exactly a glass jar or a balloon, but his body was a sort of container, not too different from the soul catcher's own methods. And the big, bad poltergeist was now trapped within.

  The wind died down. The biting rain and leaves fell away. The yard grew quiet except for the shouting of police at the perimeter.

  I rested my hands on my knees. Kita considered me carefully. I knew what she was thinking. Was it worth attacking me without her fan? With my gunshot wound and burnt hand, which of us was more declawed? I knew what she was thinking because I considered similar questions myself. And I didn't think I was up to the task.

  But when I stood tall again, it wasn't her or me that acted first. It was the santero.

  The headless corpse rolled to its stomach and let out a deathly cough from its neckhole. With only one arm, it struggled to its feet. When it did, it pulled the hood of the jacket up. The cloth rested on air where the head should be.

  "This is... interesting," proclaimed the poltergeist.

  And I took a step away.

  Chapter 33

  "What did you do?" accused Kita, taking my lead and giving the animated corpse a wide berth.

  "I... I thought I trapped it."

  "Good job with that."

  I hissed under my breath. A minute ago I was scurrying beneath a giant dragon serpent made of sharp objects flying overhead. I wasn't so sure this was worse. My gut instinct was to call it a win. Then again, my plan had so far left me with cuts and burns and a bullet wound.