Sequel: New Beginning ›
Columbine
Chapter 3
I was happy to find the sun glaring angrily down at Egypt the next morning. It wasn’t usually this hot so early, and the feeling of such intense heat made me think of how many buckets of sweat the Demataxt agents were producing. A smug grin curled my lips while I pulled on my clothes, having fully showered and brushed.
My job at a local bookshop satisfied the small need for money that I couldn’t help but have. Things like food and rent were always demanding payment, and it was all up to little, old me to support myself. My boss, Sarah Crow, was pleasant enough, even with her perverted taste in literature, so I was probably lucky.
The morning after Valentin had transferred my blood to someone I now found myself uncomfortably dependent on seemed full of an odd calm. It seemed that I was the only one the least bit tense. Everyone was so confident that the mummies’ curse could never be undone. Everyone but me, that is. The voice had seemed so damn confident when it had announced the agents’ purpose, that I had given up all hope in advance.
As I made my way to Sarah’s shop, I whistled the tune of the last song I had recorded. It had been a Japanese pop tune to which I had fought the urge to dance. The bike I was riding made ominous creaky sounds as the wheels moved, and it felt that at any moment it might come apart. It never did, though, and I’d learned to ignore it after a while. The sun scorched my back as I pedaled, rushing to find shelter.
There were very few times that I regretted moving to a part of northern Africa, and this was one of them. It felt like my skin was on fire – global warming, and all that. But now that cars were a dead trend, it was steadily losing its effect.
When I finally got to my place of employ, I ran inside, not into an air-conditioned space, but into mere shade. I wiped sweat from my brow, reaching for the canister of deodorant that I’d taken to lugging around with me no matter where I went.
“Welcome, my hearty employee!” Sarah’s voice called from above. I looked up to find her standing on a ladder that reached to the topmost shelf of the shop – which was about at the ceiling. “Do you know what time it is?” She asked.
“Erm…eight fifteen?” I asked, after glancing at the grandfather clock that had been shoved away into a corner of the shop.
“Exactly right!” Sarah chirped, shoving books onto the shelf. “And what is the designated time that you should show up?”
“Eight o’ clock.” I sighed, putting my backpack down.
“So why, pray tell, are you fifteen minutes late?”
“I was having wild bunny sex till two in the morning, why else?” I said sarcastically. For that, Sarah would actually let me off easy. For insomnia, it would be quite a different story. Unfortunately, she did not take me seriously, and did not let me off easy.
“You’ll be handling the shipping orders today. I’ll deal with the register.” She snapped, coming down from the ladder and promptly shoving a huge box filled with letters into my arms.
I couldn’t bear down to look down at the contents. I knew what it meant. I was to start scouring the entire place for some obscure edition of something in a language I didn’t understand, and when I found it, I was to wrap it up and put it in a box addressed so some nobody way over in Australia. People really don’t know where their rare first editions come from. I bit back a snappy comeback that I knew would knock Sarah speechless, and sullenly started opening a letter.
A few sweaty hours passed during which I vigorously wrapped antique books up in tissue and cardboard, humming to myself all the songs I remembered bleeding out. The day would have probably continued in this way if not for the door suddenly swinging open, and two men coming into the shop.
I instantly knew something was wrong. The heat that had enveloped me disappeared, and a biting chill stung my skin instead. I froze, quite literally, and snapped up from my work. I looked intently at the two men who had come in – really looked at them. The first things I saw were their badges. Big, flourished D’s were embossed onto silver discs that were elegantly pinned to their black suits.
The suits were also strange. Who wears suits in a desert? They were both pale, tall, and very scary. I was certain at once that they were Demataxt agents – mages. My heart hammered fearfully in my chest. Beads of cold sweat appeared on my face, and my nails dug into my palms.
One of them turned and saw me. I was certain that I would faint then and there. I’d never fainted before, and I really didn’t want there to be a first time for everything. By some miracle, I managed consciousness even as he stepped toward me. Luckily the table strewn with packaging supplies stopped him before he got to close.
“Where is Sarah Crow?” He asked in a deep, loud voice that was almost too strong for my ears. I stared at his forehead, not daring to look him in the eyes.
“Um…” I mumbled, too scared to say much else. And then Sarah appeared, my miraculous savior, and said,
“Welcome to the Crow Bookstore, how may I help you?”
I stood perfectly still, hardly daring to blink, watching as the mage approached Sarah and towered over her, as if to intimidate her.
“Are you Sarah Crow?” He asked her.
“Yup. I’m the proud owner of this little shop.” She cracked a blinding smile. “Perhaps you’d like something by Shakespeare? Or maybe something a bit more steamy, hmm? I’ve got a lovely romance selection – it’ll melt your knickers for sure.”
And then something even stranger happened. He raised his hand and slapped her so hard that she staggered back, knocking into a pile of books that toppled over, creating a tremendous noise.
“How dare you talk to me this way?” He snarled once she had regained balance. “Do I look like I’m here to buy your pornography?”
“It’s not pornography.” Sarah said, seemingly undaunted by the hefty-looking slap she’d received. “It’s feminist sex – there’s a difference.”
“I’m not listening to any more of your nonsense.” The mage snarled, turning away and walking back to his partner, who had been observing the scene with a sick sort of fascination in his eyes.
He saw me staring and smiled at me, making my guts churn violently. I swallowed a large, heavy object that had lodged itself in my throat the moment the mages had casually walked into the shop. A sickening sensation swept through me.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” He asked. His words were plain enough, but they felt like drops of poison pelting my ears. When he got no response, his attention shifted to Sarah. She had regained her posture and just stood there, as though she didn’t have a single care in the world.
“Miss Crow,” The mage who had spoken to me said to Sarah, “You are hereby charged with witchcraft and resistance to arrest. I’m afraid it is our unpleasant duty at this point to oversee your execution, which will be taking place shortly.”
I came out of my petrified state on a sputter. I hadn’t done it on purpose – it had just exited my mouth without any warning. The two mages’ heads turned to me. After a moment, I dared speak.
“You’ve got be kidding me!” I assured them. “There is no way she’s a witch.”
It was true – the radiant blonde standing a few feet away could never be a witch. I couldn’t see it happening. People who devote their lives to collecting lustful feminist sex novels don’t walk the witch’s path. They just don’t, and that’s that.
Unfortunately the mages didn’t see it that way.
“I understand your reluctance to see the truth, girl.” The taller, happier mage said to me. “But all evidence points to the contrary. Sarah Crow is a documented witch, and should be punished as such.”
“Nah.” I shook my head nervously. “She’s not. Try the shop next door. You’ve probably got the wrong address.”
“Are you challenging us?” The smaller, angry mage hissed at me. I shrugged fearfully, scared that at any moment I’d be declared fodder, as well.
I looked to Sarah for help. She was staring intently at the floor, her arms crossed in defense. The smaller mage walked up to her, whirling her around until her back was faced to him. He grabbed fistfuls of her shirt and ripped. A gaping hole appeared in the fabric that had once covered her back.
A big, black pentacle was tattooed onto her skin, moving when she moved, like a huge, hungry spider that had stuck its five fangs into her. A word floated into my mind, filling me with deepest repulsion and fear imaginable.
I staggered backwards, choking on what I saw. The image burned its way into my mind, searing my thoughts, imprinting on my memory, altering my perception. I watched Sarah get handcuffed and injected with a paralytic. Her dark, intelligent eyes looked mournfully to the floor as the two agents forced her into a submissive position and took out an axe from what had seemed like thin air.
“Watch, now.” The more angry of the mages told me, “An learn your lesson. See what happens to those who defy the Demataxt.”
My lips quivered and I felt my eyes prickle with the urge to cry. I was the sole witness to an execution, and someone I had considered a friend was to die before my eyes. This was one of those fateful moments when truths come to light. I didn’t realize this until much later, but I remember making my decision in a microsecond. It had been instinctive, reflexive, and almost rehearsed.
I picked up the atlas and flung it at the axe just as it was about to swing. The weapon clattered to the floor, and then I realized with incredible profundity that now I was a prime target for execution, as well.
“Dammit.” I’d nervously sputtered when two heads and a pair of eyes turned to me. “Guess I’m really in for it now.”
One of the agents moved to grab me, and I ducked, stumbling into a bookshelf. Using some extremely rare idea, I knocked the bookshelf over onto the mage, and he disappeared beneath a pile of some very big and heavy books. He wasn’t dead, but he would have a hell of a hard time resurfacing.
Now I only had one agent to deal with, besides which I also had to save Sarah.
“Shit.” I mused, while I stood frozen to the spot from which I’d made my last attack.
“Think about what you’re doing, girl.” The remaining mage said. “Do you really want to waste your life on scum like this?” He indicated Sarah, kneeling on the ground, unable to move more than her eyes.
“Let me consider that question.” I said, my voice bordering on hysteria. I had no idea what to do. All I could really imagine was that at any moment someone would swoop in and save me. I found myself wanting to pray again, but stopped. The Demataxt was the closest thing to a higher power that there was, and they already had just cause to want me dead. Praying was useless.
“Witches are scum – the purest scum there is.” The mage informed me. “They crave power they have no right to have. They dream of becoming gods and goddesses. They will devour us all if left alive.”
I wasn’t really listening. I was silently coaching myself for death. How bad could it be? Of all the millions who’d died, none have come back to complain – some singer had once said. Perhaps he was right. I hoped against hope that death was like he’d described it in the song.
“You should be praising our work.” The mage said. “Your world is dead. We’re reviving it.”
This startled me out of my reverie. Your world is dead. We’re reviving it. I was surprised to find that my hands had clenched into fists.
“You don’t approve of our work.” This was not a question, but a statement. “I understand.”
Fury boiled inside me, filling with a deep urge to break something – preferably the mage’s spine. This was a very familiar feeling. I’d felt it around Valentin, too. Nowadays I managed to be civil, but my hatred of him slept in the background of my thoughts somewhere, hidden in shadow. My hatred of the Demataxt, however, was not so fiendishly concealed as not to be plainly visible.
“You know, I really don’t think you do.” I growled, taking a step toward the mage. “Our world is not dead. You’re killing it!”
With that, I grabbed a book and flung it at the tall man before me. If I had expected something profound to happen, I was in for a disappointment. The book missed by inches. I didn’t have the patience to feel stupid. Instead I picked up more books and started chucking them in the mage’s general direction.
Before I could even blink, I was shoved against the wall, surprised to find that I couldn’t breathe and that there was no ground beneath my feet. I choked, my eyes widening as they registered that the mage had grabbed my throat and was holding me up effortlessly.
“It’s useless to resist.” He spat. Menthol-scented breath wafted into my face, making me nauseous. My eyes watered as I fought to breathe, feebly scratching at the hand around my throat. I choked out some unnamed resistance as my vision clouded, shrinking into a single tunnel at the end of which was the face of the man who would soon be my killer.
“Hey!” Sarah’s voice called. I struggled to see her behind the mage. I saw her running up behind him, a cheap but heavy statue of Anubis raised in her hand. I sent a mental prayer in her direction as my eyelids fluttered closed.
I distantly heard a great, big noise that sounded like something being smashed, and the hand that had been strangling me fell away. I collapsed to the floor greedily sucking in air. I opened my eyes to the reassuring sight of the mage lying on the floor, unconscious.
“Columbine, are you okay?” Sarah asked, kneeling down beside me. I couldn’t answer. I was still dazed, so I couldn’t really hear her all that well. I bent over and vomited onto the floor. The sour taste of upchucked pomegranate was enough to make me want to vomit all over again. I wiped my mouth, disgusted by the wetness that came off of my lips. I spit out the aftertaste of half-digested fruit and clumsily stood up, using the wall for support.
“Columbine!” Sarah called, grabbing my shoulders.
“What?” I asked half-consciously.
“Are you okay?” She asked. I nodded, taking a deep breath. I looked at my surroundings, noting the two unconscious mages on the floor.
“Um…” I grunted, not really knowing what to say about that.
I’d never been in a situation like this. Never before had I actually attacked a person from the Demataxt. Now that I thought about it like that, I realized that I might as well be in Sarah’s place. It would be an instant death sentence. I’d aided a criminal and attacked the government. Shit.
The only thing that might work in my defense was that I hadn’t actually killed them. The one I’d knocked a bookshelf onto couldn’t have died…right? My head spun as I walked over to the big mess of tomes covering the mage. I knelt down and dug through the books until his face was uncovered. I nervously pressed my fingers to his neck, breathlessly awaiting a thrum. It was faint, but it was there.
“Oh, thank god.” I breathed as I fell back, getting away from the body on the floor. At least I could be sure he was alive. I hadn’t committed murder – at least I had that on my side. Who would have thought that mages went down so easily?
“Look,” Sarah said behind me, “At this point you should save yourself. Just run. Don’t worry about – ” She didn’t get to finish that sentence because she’d gone flying across the room. I dumbly watched her crash into the wall, sending bits of plaster flying in all directions, and creating a huge cloud of dust. My attention then shifted to the person who was responsible, and noticed that the mage I’d checked for signs of life had quietly gotten to his feet. Oh, crap.
“Die, you bitch!” He yelled, sending her flying into all possible surfaces – the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. I had no idea what to do now. He was out on a roll that I was powerless to stop. Somehow I doubted that a mere book chucked at his head would do the trick this time. One thing I hate about mages is that they’re damn fast learners.
In the midst of it all, Sarah suddenly stopped shooting around the shop. She fell to the floor, her face covered in blood. I could tell that her nose had been broken. Some of the blood had mixed in with her hair. She raised a hand and wiped the blood from her face, grimacing.
I was even more shocked when I heard Sarah speak in a voice I would never have recognized as hers. I had no idea what the words were, but when she was done, the mage had passed out cold on the floor.
My heart hammered in my chest, and my whole body shook along with it. I wasn’t breathing. I was too busy being in shock. My eyes were fixed on the body on the floor – both bodies. Part of me was rejoicing that I was still alive, but an even bigger part of me was in chaos.
I found myself praying that this was all a nightmare – just a very long, very convincing nightmare. I ran out of the shop, collapsing into the street. Heat engulfed me, flooding my lungs. The very concept that there were two mages lying unconscious not ten feet away from me was too much.
“Shit!” I screamed as loudly as I could. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, still anticipating that at any moment the mages might attack me again.
“Don’t scream, idiot!” Sarah whispered angrily into my ear.
“Get away from me!” I yelled, scrabbling away from her. She stared at me as though I were crazy. Perhaps I was. Hopefully this was all some ridiculous hallucination that I’d snap out of at any moment. I anxiously waited for that moment to come.
Sarah’s hand closed over my mouth, probably to keep me from screaming again. I didn’t resist. If I was crazy, then none of this was real. At any time I’d wake up and the morning would begin again, only less strange this time. I counted to ten, trying to hypnotize myself back to sanity. It didn’t work.
“Just shut up and let me explain.” Sarah said. “I haven’t practiced for two years, and I’m not going to start now.” She took her hand from my mouth, much to my relief. “I’m not crazy enough to pull something like that.”
I was on my knees in the dirt, breathing as deeply as possible. Maybe the oxygen would make everything clearer, and it would turn out that life as I knew it hadn’t come apart. It didn’t, much to my dismay. In fact it only made everything seem worse. My head was spinning, and the world closed in around me. My pulse was pounding inside my head, rampaging through my veins too quickly. Before I was fully aware of what was happening, I had blacked out.
My job at a local bookshop satisfied the small need for money that I couldn’t help but have. Things like food and rent were always demanding payment, and it was all up to little, old me to support myself. My boss, Sarah Crow, was pleasant enough, even with her perverted taste in literature, so I was probably lucky.
The morning after Valentin had transferred my blood to someone I now found myself uncomfortably dependent on seemed full of an odd calm. It seemed that I was the only one the least bit tense. Everyone was so confident that the mummies’ curse could never be undone. Everyone but me, that is. The voice had seemed so damn confident when it had announced the agents’ purpose, that I had given up all hope in advance.
As I made my way to Sarah’s shop, I whistled the tune of the last song I had recorded. It had been a Japanese pop tune to which I had fought the urge to dance. The bike I was riding made ominous creaky sounds as the wheels moved, and it felt that at any moment it might come apart. It never did, though, and I’d learned to ignore it after a while. The sun scorched my back as I pedaled, rushing to find shelter.
There were very few times that I regretted moving to a part of northern Africa, and this was one of them. It felt like my skin was on fire – global warming, and all that. But now that cars were a dead trend, it was steadily losing its effect.
When I finally got to my place of employ, I ran inside, not into an air-conditioned space, but into mere shade. I wiped sweat from my brow, reaching for the canister of deodorant that I’d taken to lugging around with me no matter where I went.
“Welcome, my hearty employee!” Sarah’s voice called from above. I looked up to find her standing on a ladder that reached to the topmost shelf of the shop – which was about at the ceiling. “Do you know what time it is?” She asked.
“Erm…eight fifteen?” I asked, after glancing at the grandfather clock that had been shoved away into a corner of the shop.
“Exactly right!” Sarah chirped, shoving books onto the shelf. “And what is the designated time that you should show up?”
“Eight o’ clock.” I sighed, putting my backpack down.
“So why, pray tell, are you fifteen minutes late?”
“I was having wild bunny sex till two in the morning, why else?” I said sarcastically. For that, Sarah would actually let me off easy. For insomnia, it would be quite a different story. Unfortunately, she did not take me seriously, and did not let me off easy.
“You’ll be handling the shipping orders today. I’ll deal with the register.” She snapped, coming down from the ladder and promptly shoving a huge box filled with letters into my arms.
I couldn’t bear down to look down at the contents. I knew what it meant. I was to start scouring the entire place for some obscure edition of something in a language I didn’t understand, and when I found it, I was to wrap it up and put it in a box addressed so some nobody way over in Australia. People really don’t know where their rare first editions come from. I bit back a snappy comeback that I knew would knock Sarah speechless, and sullenly started opening a letter.
A few sweaty hours passed during which I vigorously wrapped antique books up in tissue and cardboard, humming to myself all the songs I remembered bleeding out. The day would have probably continued in this way if not for the door suddenly swinging open, and two men coming into the shop.
I instantly knew something was wrong. The heat that had enveloped me disappeared, and a biting chill stung my skin instead. I froze, quite literally, and snapped up from my work. I looked intently at the two men who had come in – really looked at them. The first things I saw were their badges. Big, flourished D’s were embossed onto silver discs that were elegantly pinned to their black suits.
The suits were also strange. Who wears suits in a desert? They were both pale, tall, and very scary. I was certain at once that they were Demataxt agents – mages. My heart hammered fearfully in my chest. Beads of cold sweat appeared on my face, and my nails dug into my palms.
One of them turned and saw me. I was certain that I would faint then and there. I’d never fainted before, and I really didn’t want there to be a first time for everything. By some miracle, I managed consciousness even as he stepped toward me. Luckily the table strewn with packaging supplies stopped him before he got to close.
“Where is Sarah Crow?” He asked in a deep, loud voice that was almost too strong for my ears. I stared at his forehead, not daring to look him in the eyes.
“Um…” I mumbled, too scared to say much else. And then Sarah appeared, my miraculous savior, and said,
“Welcome to the Crow Bookstore, how may I help you?”
I stood perfectly still, hardly daring to blink, watching as the mage approached Sarah and towered over her, as if to intimidate her.
“Are you Sarah Crow?” He asked her.
“Yup. I’m the proud owner of this little shop.” She cracked a blinding smile. “Perhaps you’d like something by Shakespeare? Or maybe something a bit more steamy, hmm? I’ve got a lovely romance selection – it’ll melt your knickers for sure.”
And then something even stranger happened. He raised his hand and slapped her so hard that she staggered back, knocking into a pile of books that toppled over, creating a tremendous noise.
“How dare you talk to me this way?” He snarled once she had regained balance. “Do I look like I’m here to buy your pornography?”
“It’s not pornography.” Sarah said, seemingly undaunted by the hefty-looking slap she’d received. “It’s feminist sex – there’s a difference.”
“I’m not listening to any more of your nonsense.” The mage snarled, turning away and walking back to his partner, who had been observing the scene with a sick sort of fascination in his eyes.
He saw me staring and smiled at me, making my guts churn violently. I swallowed a large, heavy object that had lodged itself in my throat the moment the mages had casually walked into the shop. A sickening sensation swept through me.
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” He asked. His words were plain enough, but they felt like drops of poison pelting my ears. When he got no response, his attention shifted to Sarah. She had regained her posture and just stood there, as though she didn’t have a single care in the world.
“Miss Crow,” The mage who had spoken to me said to Sarah, “You are hereby charged with witchcraft and resistance to arrest. I’m afraid it is our unpleasant duty at this point to oversee your execution, which will be taking place shortly.”
I came out of my petrified state on a sputter. I hadn’t done it on purpose – it had just exited my mouth without any warning. The two mages’ heads turned to me. After a moment, I dared speak.
“You’ve got be kidding me!” I assured them. “There is no way she’s a witch.”
It was true – the radiant blonde standing a few feet away could never be a witch. I couldn’t see it happening. People who devote their lives to collecting lustful feminist sex novels don’t walk the witch’s path. They just don’t, and that’s that.
Unfortunately the mages didn’t see it that way.
“I understand your reluctance to see the truth, girl.” The taller, happier mage said to me. “But all evidence points to the contrary. Sarah Crow is a documented witch, and should be punished as such.”
“Nah.” I shook my head nervously. “She’s not. Try the shop next door. You’ve probably got the wrong address.”
“Are you challenging us?” The smaller, angry mage hissed at me. I shrugged fearfully, scared that at any moment I’d be declared fodder, as well.
I looked to Sarah for help. She was staring intently at the floor, her arms crossed in defense. The smaller mage walked up to her, whirling her around until her back was faced to him. He grabbed fistfuls of her shirt and ripped. A gaping hole appeared in the fabric that had once covered her back.
A big, black pentacle was tattooed onto her skin, moving when she moved, like a huge, hungry spider that had stuck its five fangs into her. A word floated into my mind, filling me with deepest repulsion and fear imaginable.
I staggered backwards, choking on what I saw. The image burned its way into my mind, searing my thoughts, imprinting on my memory, altering my perception. I watched Sarah get handcuffed and injected with a paralytic. Her dark, intelligent eyes looked mournfully to the floor as the two agents forced her into a submissive position and took out an axe from what had seemed like thin air.
“Watch, now.” The more angry of the mages told me, “An learn your lesson. See what happens to those who defy the Demataxt.”
My lips quivered and I felt my eyes prickle with the urge to cry. I was the sole witness to an execution, and someone I had considered a friend was to die before my eyes. This was one of those fateful moments when truths come to light. I didn’t realize this until much later, but I remember making my decision in a microsecond. It had been instinctive, reflexive, and almost rehearsed.
I picked up the atlas and flung it at the axe just as it was about to swing. The weapon clattered to the floor, and then I realized with incredible profundity that now I was a prime target for execution, as well.
“Dammit.” I’d nervously sputtered when two heads and a pair of eyes turned to me. “Guess I’m really in for it now.”
One of the agents moved to grab me, and I ducked, stumbling into a bookshelf. Using some extremely rare idea, I knocked the bookshelf over onto the mage, and he disappeared beneath a pile of some very big and heavy books. He wasn’t dead, but he would have a hell of a hard time resurfacing.
Now I only had one agent to deal with, besides which I also had to save Sarah.
“Shit.” I mused, while I stood frozen to the spot from which I’d made my last attack.
“Think about what you’re doing, girl.” The remaining mage said. “Do you really want to waste your life on scum like this?” He indicated Sarah, kneeling on the ground, unable to move more than her eyes.
“Let me consider that question.” I said, my voice bordering on hysteria. I had no idea what to do. All I could really imagine was that at any moment someone would swoop in and save me. I found myself wanting to pray again, but stopped. The Demataxt was the closest thing to a higher power that there was, and they already had just cause to want me dead. Praying was useless.
“Witches are scum – the purest scum there is.” The mage informed me. “They crave power they have no right to have. They dream of becoming gods and goddesses. They will devour us all if left alive.”
I wasn’t really listening. I was silently coaching myself for death. How bad could it be? Of all the millions who’d died, none have come back to complain – some singer had once said. Perhaps he was right. I hoped against hope that death was like he’d described it in the song.
“You should be praising our work.” The mage said. “Your world is dead. We’re reviving it.”
This startled me out of my reverie. Your world is dead. We’re reviving it. I was surprised to find that my hands had clenched into fists.
“You don’t approve of our work.” This was not a question, but a statement. “I understand.”
Fury boiled inside me, filling with a deep urge to break something – preferably the mage’s spine. This was a very familiar feeling. I’d felt it around Valentin, too. Nowadays I managed to be civil, but my hatred of him slept in the background of my thoughts somewhere, hidden in shadow. My hatred of the Demataxt, however, was not so fiendishly concealed as not to be plainly visible.
“You know, I really don’t think you do.” I growled, taking a step toward the mage. “Our world is not dead. You’re killing it!”
With that, I grabbed a book and flung it at the tall man before me. If I had expected something profound to happen, I was in for a disappointment. The book missed by inches. I didn’t have the patience to feel stupid. Instead I picked up more books and started chucking them in the mage’s general direction.
Before I could even blink, I was shoved against the wall, surprised to find that I couldn’t breathe and that there was no ground beneath my feet. I choked, my eyes widening as they registered that the mage had grabbed my throat and was holding me up effortlessly.
“It’s useless to resist.” He spat. Menthol-scented breath wafted into my face, making me nauseous. My eyes watered as I fought to breathe, feebly scratching at the hand around my throat. I choked out some unnamed resistance as my vision clouded, shrinking into a single tunnel at the end of which was the face of the man who would soon be my killer.
“Hey!” Sarah’s voice called. I struggled to see her behind the mage. I saw her running up behind him, a cheap but heavy statue of Anubis raised in her hand. I sent a mental prayer in her direction as my eyelids fluttered closed.
I distantly heard a great, big noise that sounded like something being smashed, and the hand that had been strangling me fell away. I collapsed to the floor greedily sucking in air. I opened my eyes to the reassuring sight of the mage lying on the floor, unconscious.
“Columbine, are you okay?” Sarah asked, kneeling down beside me. I couldn’t answer. I was still dazed, so I couldn’t really hear her all that well. I bent over and vomited onto the floor. The sour taste of upchucked pomegranate was enough to make me want to vomit all over again. I wiped my mouth, disgusted by the wetness that came off of my lips. I spit out the aftertaste of half-digested fruit and clumsily stood up, using the wall for support.
“Columbine!” Sarah called, grabbing my shoulders.
“What?” I asked half-consciously.
“Are you okay?” She asked. I nodded, taking a deep breath. I looked at my surroundings, noting the two unconscious mages on the floor.
“Um…” I grunted, not really knowing what to say about that.
I’d never been in a situation like this. Never before had I actually attacked a person from the Demataxt. Now that I thought about it like that, I realized that I might as well be in Sarah’s place. It would be an instant death sentence. I’d aided a criminal and attacked the government. Shit.
The only thing that might work in my defense was that I hadn’t actually killed them. The one I’d knocked a bookshelf onto couldn’t have died…right? My head spun as I walked over to the big mess of tomes covering the mage. I knelt down and dug through the books until his face was uncovered. I nervously pressed my fingers to his neck, breathlessly awaiting a thrum. It was faint, but it was there.
“Oh, thank god.” I breathed as I fell back, getting away from the body on the floor. At least I could be sure he was alive. I hadn’t committed murder – at least I had that on my side. Who would have thought that mages went down so easily?
“Look,” Sarah said behind me, “At this point you should save yourself. Just run. Don’t worry about – ” She didn’t get to finish that sentence because she’d gone flying across the room. I dumbly watched her crash into the wall, sending bits of plaster flying in all directions, and creating a huge cloud of dust. My attention then shifted to the person who was responsible, and noticed that the mage I’d checked for signs of life had quietly gotten to his feet. Oh, crap.
“Die, you bitch!” He yelled, sending her flying into all possible surfaces – the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. I had no idea what to do now. He was out on a roll that I was powerless to stop. Somehow I doubted that a mere book chucked at his head would do the trick this time. One thing I hate about mages is that they’re damn fast learners.
In the midst of it all, Sarah suddenly stopped shooting around the shop. She fell to the floor, her face covered in blood. I could tell that her nose had been broken. Some of the blood had mixed in with her hair. She raised a hand and wiped the blood from her face, grimacing.
I was even more shocked when I heard Sarah speak in a voice I would never have recognized as hers. I had no idea what the words were, but when she was done, the mage had passed out cold on the floor.
My heart hammered in my chest, and my whole body shook along with it. I wasn’t breathing. I was too busy being in shock. My eyes were fixed on the body on the floor – both bodies. Part of me was rejoicing that I was still alive, but an even bigger part of me was in chaos.
I found myself praying that this was all a nightmare – just a very long, very convincing nightmare. I ran out of the shop, collapsing into the street. Heat engulfed me, flooding my lungs. The very concept that there were two mages lying unconscious not ten feet away from me was too much.
“Shit!” I screamed as loudly as I could. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, still anticipating that at any moment the mages might attack me again.
“Don’t scream, idiot!” Sarah whispered angrily into my ear.
“Get away from me!” I yelled, scrabbling away from her. She stared at me as though I were crazy. Perhaps I was. Hopefully this was all some ridiculous hallucination that I’d snap out of at any moment. I anxiously waited for that moment to come.
Sarah’s hand closed over my mouth, probably to keep me from screaming again. I didn’t resist. If I was crazy, then none of this was real. At any time I’d wake up and the morning would begin again, only less strange this time. I counted to ten, trying to hypnotize myself back to sanity. It didn’t work.
“Just shut up and let me explain.” Sarah said. “I haven’t practiced for two years, and I’m not going to start now.” She took her hand from my mouth, much to my relief. “I’m not crazy enough to pull something like that.”
I was on my knees in the dirt, breathing as deeply as possible. Maybe the oxygen would make everything clearer, and it would turn out that life as I knew it hadn’t come apart. It didn’t, much to my dismay. In fact it only made everything seem worse. My head was spinning, and the world closed in around me. My pulse was pounding inside my head, rampaging through my veins too quickly. Before I was fully aware of what was happening, I had blacked out.