Switching Gears

By Thio Isobel Moss

January 15th, 2015 in Parkville, MO

“We are here when you need help.” The soft, sympathetic voice filled the room, smothering her.

She clicked the remote, black swallowing the screen. She’d been seeing more and more ads for mental health resources, suicide helplines, and online therapy platforms.

While Nore was grateful that such services existed, warming things up a bit—throwing in some flowers, a lunch with friends, a walk through a sun-dappled forest—might indicate that there was hope. The commercials always left her depressed with their gray and blue filters, neutral rooms, and isolation.

She glanced at her phone, remembering the recent headlines. ‘Twelve children reunited with their families’ was engraved in her mind. It had been five women two weeks before that. Another eight people the week before that. Kenny had singlehandedly broken the Asian market.

Nore massaged her jaw, attempting to loosen the muscles. She’d started grinding her teeth at night. Again.

Kenny had said she was fine. Nothing to worry about. She was just wrapping things up before moving on to Rio.

Grimacing, Nore grabbed her phone and tapped in a number she’d never called from memory. The line picked up after the first ring, but no one offered a greeting.

“You swear this is all because you want to recruit her?” she demanded, her voice thick and hoarse.

“I wish to make the offer,” a man replied, his words clipped.

“Fine. I’ll tell you how you can find her.”

Kenny: January 19th, 2015 in Busan, South Korea

The sun had set by the time I emerged from the tiny shower, my skin reddened after scrubbing the blood off. Light reflected off the distant ocean outside the single window the apartment could boast of and a welcome breeze fluttered the papers on the end table that served as my desk. A handful of shells was all that prevented a small but destructive paper storm.

I tore into the waxed paper sack on the counter, the scent of tteokbokki, sweet potato twigim, and ddakkochi making my mouth water. Seul-gi, my broker, had kindly spelled the food to stay hot, dropping it off with my payment. The money barely covered expenses and a plane ticket, but that was beside the point.

I grabbed a fork and dug in. Twenty-two hours without food turned me into an animal — even fermented skate would have disappeared in three bites.

I turned back to the view outside, catching a face in the glass.

“Aren’t you going to share?”

My body, supple from the shower, reacted before my brain.

The charming smile never left the lithe Asian man’s face. Casually sitting on the futon that also served as my bed, he glanced down at the fork embedded in his yellow-robed chest. I’d missed his neck by two inches. In fairness, it had been forty-eight hours since I’d slept.

He glanced up, his smile broadening to a disturbing width, and the fork jerked free from his flesh, seemingly of its own accord.

A practitioner.

I ducked as the utensil shot back at me and kicked, sweeping the floor as Captain Bathrobe launched himself up. His toes tapped the floorboards and were gone.

The bastard was fast.

He bounced off the counter, his foot traveling toward my head. I leaned out of the way, flipping sideways onto my hands. The apartment was too small to gain much distance. I needed to fight dirty and end this. Unfortunately, my stash of precast spells, taped to the underside of the end table, had mysteriously vanished.

Grim resolve filled me. I’d just have to make certain this assassin wouldn’t be telling any tales.

I moved. I knew he was coming, but not from what direction, so I concentrated on the ley lines. A quiver. A powerful kick whistled by as I sprang high, tapping the tattoo of a lightning bolt on the underside of my forearm. A taser materialized in my hand.

Goldilocks’ eyes popped.

I fired.

The darts found their mark. Mr. Sunshine dropped to his knees and…started laughing even as he was electrocuted. It was uncanny. His facial muscles were frozen in a mask of glee.

A wave of dizziness rolled over me, and I staggered, seeing movement on the neighboring high-rise.

What the…

The man’s black eyes snapped up to my face as the taser fell from my hand.

“What did you do?” I slurred.

“Doctored…your food. This…little warm-up helped it flood…your system. A cursed taser? What does the spell do?” he inquired, valiantly keeping his eyes open as he yanked himself free from the wires.

A grin that was really a snarl molded my lips as strength fled my body. I caught myself on the wall, tracking three blurs ziplining over to the floor above mine.

Why send backup when Sunshine had already killed me? Unless I was just that popular.

“You can’t feel it? Your innards are still being fried. You may have killed me, but I’m taking you with me, ass hat.”

“Perhaps,” he snickered. “If I traveled alone.”

“Healer,” I whispered, closing my eyes and preparing for my last stand. “Now it makes sense.”

“What…makes sense?”

“The three ninjas backing you up,” I said, nodding to the window.

Sunshine and I watched as a foot kicked in the glass.

“They don’t belong to me,” he hissed, lurching to his feet. He eyed me speculatively, sending the fork flying.  A muted cry from outside indicated he’d hit something with nerves. “I’d give it ten minutes before you’re beyond aid. My healer isn’t combat-trained. If you’ve got anything left, now’s the time to use it.”

Seventeen hours later

The good news was that I woke up. The bad news was that it might not be good news. I felt like shit.

I remembered beating a man’s head against a wall as Sunshine lobbed my missing spell balls at the third ninja. Then…nothing.

“So you survived, after all?” murmured a smug voice. “Good. Now your friend can stop wearing holes in the rug.”

My sticky, gritty eyes reluctantly peeled open, expecting a dark room lit by a bare lightbulb and filled with angry, well-muscled slavers. What I didn’t expect was my best friend’s tasteful living room. On the other side of the world.

“Nore?” I groaned.

“Mmm-hmm,” she hmmed, crossing her arms and blocking the lamplight like a disappointed wraith. “Perfectly safe, I think you said. They’d never see you coming. In and out. Easy-peasy, lemon squeezy. Just look at you! You look like you’ve been poisoned.”

This was her idea of an intervention?

“I was poisoned…by your delivery boy. I was perfectly safe until he showed up.”

“Need I remind you that I took out two of the assassins trying to kill you?” my brave defender murmured, not bothering to open his eyes, even as Nore narrowed her eyes at him.

“You poisoned her?” Nore repeated, her voice turning velvety and melodic. “Exactly where does that fit in with your ‘offer’?”

“Don’t threaten me, bard. If I’m going to convince the Covenant, I need to show them what she’s capable of. Consider it her audition. She survived, and I’m willing to sponsor her. Win-win.”

The Covenant?

The Covenant wanted me? Now?

My birth parents had belonged to the Covenant. My adoptive parents, too. But I had left that path behind. I was…out of balance. Tainted. Warped.

They wouldn’t accept me.

“Covenant,” I wheezed, trying to turn on my side to face my assailant. “I thought you were going to kill me, not pitch joining the Girl Scouts.”

Rather than being offended, he snorted.

“Technically, I did try. If Harrowell hadn’t known what he was doing…” He made a vibrating sound in his throat, and his head slumped over, dangling from an invisible noose. If he was familiar with my history, and I suspected he was, that was low.

“You’re not helping your case,” murmured Nore, her dark eyes half-lidded as the world tuned itself to her voice, like an orchestra warming up.

If he were smart, Yellowjacket would shut up. But…I wanted to see Nore let loose. It had been too long, and I’d never seen her serenade someone to death. Judging by the power shivering in the ley lines, she certainly could.

“Knew how to patch you up, too, I see,” I grinned, adding fuel to the fire. “Did Harrowell slice you open so the putrid organ juice could drain off?”

Nore scowled at me, evidently aware of where my thoughts were running.

Someone knocked on the front door.

Nore poked at her phone.

“It’s unlocked. Come on in.”

I heard the door open, and before the new arrivals had taken four steps down the hall, dread blanketed me. I knew that gait—all three of them. This really was an intervention!

“You called my mother?” I hissed, trying to rise.

“This has to stop, Kenny, or you’ll get yourself killed. Kuwako isn’t in South Korea. She isn’t in Japan. She isn’t in Egypt, Venezuela, California, or New Orleans,” Nore lectured, crossing her arms again. “Or, if she is, you aren’t going to find her this way. It’s time to switch gears.”

I shook my head, not out of childish petulance but because I knew she was right. It had been three years, and I had nothing to show for it. I had painted myself in the blood of preternatural slavers, but I hadn’t found her. And…I didn’t know how else to look for her; what was left to try?

“Kenny,” my sister called, hoarse from worry, as she rounded the corner.

Evy looked ready to cry, and the pain I’d caused my family came crashing down. There were circles under her eyes, and her skin was practically transparent. She looked ill. Like she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper eight hours of sleep.

Mom, her Belgian Tervuren at her heels, looked bottled lightning, now knowing where to move or who to strike.

Mel, her dog, showed me his teeth before settling into his ‘on duty’ pose near her feet.

“Kenny, baby,” she murmured, clasping my hand and turning my face,  “Oh, dear Lord!”

I could only imagine how radiant I must look to garner such a reaction.

“She’s fine,” grumbled Nore, “despite Phi Thale’s best efforts.”

Phi Thale… The name was familiar.

“Louis,” Mom snarled as she, Evy, and Nore glared at the creature.

Louis…Chanthara. The Serpent of Surat Thani. Maybe the Covenant was letting anyone join these days.

The Golden Serpent shifted in his La-Z-Boy.

“I prefer Phi Thale. Some lofty promises were made to me, and I, in turn, have offered the Erebidae my assurances.”

The Council of Elders. Yeah. They’d take him. There weren’t a lot of elderly practitioners around, so they weren’t as picky once you’d reached your third century. He looked pretty good for his age, all things considered.

“I had to test her. It’s not like she’s defenseless. And, like Nore said, she’s fine. According to Saul, I had the narrower shave!”

The three women continued to glare at him.

“You do realize this offer isn’t for a cake-walk,” he grumbled. “Even if Mendoza doesn’t kill her on sight, she’ll be in constant danger.”

I didn’t know a Mendoza, but he’d caught my attention.

“What offer?”