Mojo Queen (12 page)

His laugh choked off abruptly as a roar came from a hellhound outside the driver’s side window. Fire erupted from its mouth, the stench of sulfur rolling into the air and lodging in the back of my throat. Tiny cracks spread through the safety glass.

“Did you know they could breathe fire?” I said, coughing.

“Shit.”

I took that to be a no.

The door flew open. With one hand Blake pushed me from the car to the ground, where I rolled out of the way. He brought his other hand up, aiming Sekhmet at the hellhound right in front of us. Angry red and gold light burst from the talisman, catching the hellhound and sending it flying backward as if shot from a cannon. Blake stepped from the car, extending a hand to pull me to my feet. We stood back to back and for a moment, all I could hear was his slow, steady breathing.

He pushed me away from him as another hellhound jumped from the roof of my destroyed car. “Go!”

I ran. In moments I found myself in the trees and the darkness. I don’t know how far I got before tripping over a root, winding up sprawled on the ground. I heard it before I saw it--a hellhound racing up behind me. I rolled onto my back, aimed the shield mirror and yanked the taser out of my pocket. Hit the button as the hellhound reached my feet. It howled in pain, a metallic, eerie sound, as it thrashed on the ground. I wasn’t sure if the mirror was doing its part but I tried my best to believe it could, sending my will into it like I would when lighting a candle. The thing finally stopped moving and I stood, unsteady, keeping the shield on it.

Another explosion of red and gold light drew my attention. “Blake!”

No response. Then I heard more sounds of hellhounds, barks and growls. I dropped the taser and went farther into the woods. I found a stream much faster than I thought I would, knee-deep and cold. I nearly lost a sneaker in the streambed. I stopped on the other side, putting my hand against the wide trunk of a tree to steady myself. The cut on my thigh hurt and I was afraid it was bleeding pretty good. My sides hurt from running. I took a quick inventory and found I’d lost one of the salt bottles. Worse, the messenger bag’s flap was open. No telling what might have fallen out. I couldn’t remember what I’d done with the flashlight but I didn’t have it with me. I still had the shield mirror, and Blake said he’d be able to find me as long as I kept hold of it. I looked across the stream for any signs of him, of Sekhmet’s light. Nothing.

I looked up at the tree I leaned against--a big sturdy oak with nice climbable limbs. I snapped the mirror shut and put it between my teeth, climbing as quickly as my aching body would let me. Not too high up, just high enough to give me a better vantage point. Straddling a limb, I leaned against the trunk and opened the compact again, holding it mirror side out just in case. I raised my glasses, searching the night for Blake’s starfield aura.

There it was, moving fast toward my direction. Hazy black clouds gave chase behind him. “You’re almost there!” I screamed to him.

Blake came out of the tree line to the tiny clearing just ahead of the stream. He looked around and I called to him again, waving frantically. He saw me and took a step toward the stream. I saw the hazy shape behind him and let out a warning.

Three hounds came out of the trees and took him down. Hard. They dragged him to the ground and back into the trees, snarling and growling, jaws snapping. I heard him cry out in pain, a harsh guttural scream.

“Come on come on come on,” I whispered. “Use Sekhmet,
come on
.”

But he didn’t, and I took that to mean he couldn’t. When the hellhounds slammed him to the ground, the impact must have knocked the talisman from his hand. If Blake couldn’t fight back either the hounds would kill him, or take him to Delia so she could kill him herself. Here I was, safe in a tree, running water between me and the hell beasties. My fingers curled tighter around the mirror shield. I slowed my breathing, ground and centered myself. It shocked me to realize that’s what he’d done to me in the car, right before we left it. I didn’t know it was possible to ground another person so it hadn’t occurredto me that’s what he was doing. I didn’t have his training or knowledge of magic but I knew it took a lot of energy to affect the environment around you, even more to affect something with sentient energy of its own. What had it cost him to pour a little of his own strength into me?

I was halfway across the stream before I let myself think about it. Another painful scream from Blake led me to him. Face down, hands grasping for something to hold onto, his left ankle in the jaws of a hellhound trying to drag him back through the woods. Another hellhound targeted me, its grating metallic bark getting louder as its powerful legs brought it closer.

A jet of fire exploded from the hellhound’s mouth. I raised the mirror shield, willing my intention into it. I felt a wave of power spread out from it and had to brace myself to stay on my feet. Lowering my head and looking over the tops of my glasses, I could see the blue light of the shield’s protective spell. The blue light collided with the fire, sending it back to the hellhound like a boomerang. The creature howled, running in circles as it was consumed by its own flames. The stench of sulfur and charred beast threatened to bring up my French toast. Once the hound collapsed, its remains were nothing but a campfire.

That left two more hellhounds. “Where’s Sekhmet?” I called to Blake.

He gestured vaguely to his left, leading me to a glow in the brush. I knew talismans needed to be recharged with magical energy from time to time, no different from my mojo hands, how often depending on what they were used for. I just hoped Sekhmet wasn’t out of juice yet. I ran for her, skidding to my knees.

I turned back to Blake, half crawling, half walking on my knees to reach him. He kicked at the head of the hound holding him, managing to free his ankle. He pulled himself away from it and reached for me. “Roxie.”

I grabbed his hand and aimed the goddess of war at the hellhound. The talisman became a conduit of energy but instead of Sekhmet’s red and gold light, I saw the vibrant indigo of my aura merge with the dark shine of Blake’s starfield. Power crackled from our joined hands, spread through every inch of my body all the way to Sekhmet. Sensation overload threatened to shut my brain down. I couldn’t think--all I could do was
feel
. And nothing had ever felt like this, so sharp, so clear, every cell, every nerve bursting with it. My muscles, my skin, even my hair, hummed and quivered like a struck high wire. Our combined energy, our will and intention, essence--whatever words you wanted to use to try to describe something as nebulous as magic--it all freight-trained its way through me and poured out of the talisman. The hellhound wasn’t thrown around or blasted away. The thing was obliterated. A shining darkness enveloped the hound and swallowed it whole, leaving no trace. Not a bone, not so much as a hair.

I pitched over, nearly falling on top of Blake. He pulled himself into a sitting position, taking his talisman from my hand. “There’s one more,” he said.

“I don’t know where,” I said, shaking, pushing myself up from the ground weakly. “Can you walk?”

Before he could answer the last hellhound made its presence known. Blake’s arm swung up but this time Sekhmet stayed dark. Not so much as a glow. We’d wiped her batteries out. The hound snapped at me, its teeth ripping the sleeve of my cardigan as it grazed my skin. Blake took the mirror shield but it had lost power too. The transference part of the spell had worn out, leaving us with a shield whose blue light looked watery and weak. It served to hold the hound back but didn’t look like it would last. The hound kept testing it, bouncing off of it but still getting closer to us.

I helped Blake to his feet. He swore under his breath and I knew that ankle wouldn’t let him run like we needed to. The hound kept snapping and snarling. A plan occurred to me. A really bad, really dangerous plan, but it was the best I could come up with. I searched my messenger bag for the brass knuckles, pulling them out and placing them on the fingers of my right hand. These brass knuckles weren’t just brass. I’d had them specially made, with a ribbon of pure silver imbedded in the knuckles. Silver, like the salt I had in my pocket, is a substance of purity that will do some pretty serious damage to impure hell beasties. I gave the messenger bag to Blake. “I’m going to distract the hellhound. You get to the stream. It’s not far.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What are you going to distract it with, sarcasm?”

I shrugged and gave him what I hoped was a little bit of his own smirk back to him. “Seems to work for you.”

He shook his head. “No. I may be a son of a bitch but I’m not leaving you to get torn apart by this thing.”

Apparently it objected to being called a thing because it rushed the shield with a particular fury. “Look, it’s not far,” I said. “You can’t run so you need to use the shield before it dies on us. I can give you a head start then run for it.”

“What are you going to do?”

I showed him the bottle of salt and the silver in my brass knuckles. I couldn’t read his expression but his voice was full of something that sounded suspiciously like admiration. “If this isn’t the stupidest thing you’ve ever done I’d be shocked.”

“Just go.” I opened the bottle of salt. “Get to the water as fast as you can. I’m not gonna be able to hold the thing for long.” As I pushed my glasses up I saw a flare of silver shoot out from his aura.

He gave me another unreadable look. I nodded that I was ready. He left, limping as fast as he could. Which wasn’t fast at all. He was going to need more time than I thought. I transferred the bottle of salt to my right hand, brass knuckles making it uncomfortable to hold. The hound growled at me, pawing at the ground. I stood between it and its target, and it was getting ready to get me out of its way.

I stepped away from it, scanning the ground for something I could use. The hound didn’t seem to want to go after Blake without taking me out first, so I used that. I found myself a nice rock, then a few more. Then, because it seemed like such a good idea to piss off the nasty hellhound, I started throwing the rocks at it. “Yeah! How do you like it, bitch!”

An angry howl told me bitch didn’t like it at all. I ducked behind a tree just in time to avoid a blast of fire, getting a nose full of sulfur stench. I ran around the tree, got behind the hellhound and did the first thing I could think of--I yanked on its thick, heavy tail, pulling out coarse hairs. It yipped, a pretty ridiculous sound coming from a creature like this. As it turned to face me, and probably fry me, I moved the salt to my left hand and closed my right into a fist with the brass knuckles. As the beast’s head came around, I flung the salt into its red eyes and mouth. Sulfurous smoke curled out from the holes the salt burned in its flesh. It whimpered and I let fly with a right hook that had everything in it I had left. Silver scored its flesh and cracked its skull, black blood spattering. It staggered, whimpers turned to screams. I didn’t wait around to see what it did next.

I ran, about as ungracefully as a person can, not daring to look back. Blake waited for me at the edge of the stream and I ran right past him without realizing it. He called out to me and I splashed back. “Go, go, go, go, come on,” I urged him.

“I can’t walk so good,” he replied.

I got under his arm and let him lean against me for support. The brass knuckles were still on my hand, dripping black viscous hellhound blood. I took them off, shoved them in my pocket. Motioning for him to get moving, we made it across the stream. Damn he was heavy. “You better by damn pay me in cash.”

* * * *

The walk to my house felt like it took hours but it was more like forty-five minutes or so. Blake’s ankle was messed up pretty bad from the hellhound’s fangs. He said it didn’t feel broken, just ripped up. I supported him as best I could and we made it home.

I tried to lead him to the bathroom and the first aid kit but he stopped in the middle of the living room. “Your wards aren’t very strong. I could feel it when we crossed the door.”

“They’re as strong as I can make them and neither one of us is in a condition to do more right now.” My back and shoulders ached from having him lean on me. I should have been about ready to collapse but a curious buzz kept me going.

Blake was silent for a long moment. He took a tentative step, testing his ankle. With the lights on and time to look him over, it was clear his injuries were worse than I thought. His jacket was covered in earth and grass, and his shirt hung in shreds that barely covered the claw marks on his chest. The wounds on his ankle were leaving red droplets on the carpet. His face was streaked with dirt and blood from a shallow cut on his forehead. His hands and forearms were bloody and bruised with defensive wounds. I hoped I could take care of him with a first aid kit. Not only would I have to call a cab if he needed an emergency room, we’d be putting ourselves and others in serious danger. Again.

“Do you have more salt?” His voice sounded strained, raw.

I nodded, heading for the kitchen. “Salt is one thing I’ve got plenty of.” I paused in the doorway and pointed down the hall. “There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom, under the sink. Why don’t you go on in there? I’ll do this then I’ll help you.”

He hobbled slowly to the hallway. “Basement, attic, anywhere anything can come in.”

“I know the drill, Blake.” There was a cabinet in my kitchen where I stored my extra salt, herbs, and some other things that didn’t need to get mixed up with the cooking stuff. I pulled out several bags of rock salt, the kind sold for making homemade ice cream, and went to work. I poured wide strips of salt in front of the front and back doors and every windowsill. No basement or attic to worry about, one of the things I liked about my little old house. The brass knuckles were uncomfortable in my pocket, so after I put the salt away I tossed them in the sink, the dried hellhound blood giving off a whiff of sulfur. I’d give them a good scrubbing later.

I found Blake sitting on the floor of the bathroom, staring at nothing, with a thoughtful expression. He’d made it as far as removing his coat and peeling off his destroyed shirt and bloody shoes. I retrieved the first aid kit and wet a hand towel, sat next to him and started cleaning him, wiped the blood and dirt from his face then tried to clean his chest. He winced once when I used alcohol on the wounds, closing his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t think the slashes were deep enough for stitches but he was going to be in a lot of pain for a while. It took some time to clean the wounds, covering them with ointment and gauze. I did not notice the hard lean muscle underneath soft dark chest hair, did not notice how much room his big body took up in my small bathroom, certainly paid no attention to the little shivers that rocketed through me when he took my hand in his. The brown depths of his eyes looked nothing like warm dark chocolate, the sensual curve of his lips did not look inviting.