No wonder I didn’t like using magic around people. Not only was it hard to explain, but they became a liability. I could have held the crushing masses off all day, except for the crushing part of the masses. People just kept showing up from alleyways and side roads and pouring out of bars and restaurants, none of them paying any heed to the great stench-ridden demon velociraptor in the street. They pushed against my shields and the shields pushed back until I began to sense the partiers’ discomfort, and then their pain. Loss of breath, elbowed ribs, stepped-on feet, all turning toward sour panic. I caught a glimpse of Jane unloading what looked like a full complement of bullets into the demon velociraptor, and relieved, gave up the fight.
Crowds flooded in again, panic abated, and only too late did I realize the velociraptor—he needed a shorter name—was not down for the count. I shoved a tipsy blonde sideways and reached for the one weapon I had: a silver rapier I’d taken off a god a while back. It materialized as I plowed toward the demon, and I let healing power surge down the blade in a blue blaze as I lifted it to slam into the bastard’s back.
He screamed holy living murder. I staggered back, wheezing with satisfaction.
Then silver bullets—fléchettes, actually—began to rain down between his giant-ass cloven hooves, and the sword gash that should have severed his spinal cord melded together and disappeared.
The son of a bitch was immune to silver. I stared at his healing back for maybe half a second, my gut churning with dismay, and then got pissed. The oldest weapon in my repertoire was a net, pure magic woven from the core of me. It was an extension of myself, bright and silver-blue, and in and of itself, it did no harm. But it landed on the demon like Greek sticky fire, like napalm, not burning but not coming off, either. He shrieked, a sure sign I’d gotten his attention. Once I had it, I did what any sensible human being would do.
I ran like hell.
I had no idea where I was going. Away from people. Away from people in the sense that I cleared a path in front of me with shields, and they bounced around without quite realizing what was going on. I careened onto a street where new construction was happening, picked a likely-looking empty building, and yanked the door off with another net. The healing power inside me, the source of my magic, gave a weird little burp at that. It was not generally meant to cause property damage. On the other hand, its job—my job—was making people healthy. A demon velociraptor was not going to help along those lines, so the power did not, thank God, seize up as it was wont to do when it disapproved of my behavior. That would have been a real problem, because the truth was, I could only think of one place to go where I could be sure my buddy the rainbow dinosaur wouldn’t rip people apart while I figured out how to deal with him.
The Lower World.
Honestly, opening portals to other planes wasn’t my strong suit. I did better with astral travel, but I knew how to create a door to the red-sunned, yellow-earthed level of the universe that was the Lower World. Usually I’d use a power circle and spirit animals and some polite words to the cardinal directions. Usually, however, I didn’t have a punk demon on my ass, so I simply threw forth a panicked warning, the psychic equivalent of How’s the water, I’m comin’ in!, and ripped a hole between the Middle World—Earth—and the Lower.
A few steps into the new building’s darkness, heat seared me, and red light came down like a weight. Gravity was always different in the Lower World, but this time it felt even more different. Not my Lower World. Not my Middle World either, the one I’d just left. They were close, but not the same. And unlike the Middle World, the Lower had more sense of awareness. It noticed me, and it knew I didn’t quite belong. Dark loamy earth with short blades of yellow grass rolled under my feet, ready to throw me out again. The doorway I’d opened shuddered, struggling to close, but the demon hadn’t crossed through yet. Time ran differently in the Lower World, but maybe the door I’d thrown at him had slowed him down, too. Either way, I had a couple seconds to collapse and do something I normally wouldn’t: grab the rapier blade to cut my hand open, and smash my bloodied palm against the earth.
Power sucked out of me so fast I saw black. I intensified my shields—they had to be down for this to work, but letting this new Lower World drain me dry wouldn’t do anybody any good. I whispered shaman into the bloody feed. Healer, warrior, shifter. A friend, if from distant places. Ah, hell, I was doing it again. Magic made people talk funny, all semi-formal and ritualistic-like. I hated it, but I found myself doing it anyway.
Even more irritatingly, this funky Lower World—the light was softer, a little more distant and mist-filled than in mine—this Lower World responded to it. Stopped gulping my power away and stopped shaking and shivering under my knees. It accepted me for what I was, and with that acceptance, offered up a willingness to support me.
Just as the demon came tearing through the door I’d opened up. I got to my feet, sword in hand, ready to face him. I was grounded, accepted. I could match his weight class, if not his actual size. I’d fought demons in the Lower World before. There would be a way to take him down. Confident, almost calm, I turned toward the ginormous stinky monster bearing down on me.
A huge fricking mountain lion bolted through the portal and ripped the demon’s rainbow ruff right off.
I was in place of dark. Narrow strip of night. Ahead was strange yellow light, like sun under smoky sky. Light and dark were spilt like entrance to cave, but no cave walls rose up. No cave overhead. Silent like cave, but was not cave. Strange.
My ruff rose and I growled, sniffed. Smelled no danger except for snake/lizard/manlike-thing. It rushed into light and disappeared. Pain of shift into big-cat burned.
Jane was lost deep inside. There was only Beast and big prey to hunt. Beast was good hunter. The best. I shoved out of Jane-clothes. Pulled paws out of boots. Stupid Jane to wear so much, but Jane did not have fur or claws. I shook self and felt the necklace twist on my neck, tangled as fur settled into place.
I padded, silent, shoulders high and tight, legs bent, with belly low to ground. Mouth closed to hide white killing teeth in dark. Stood at edge of light and dark but could not see through. Joanne had gone there. Thing that Jane called Stinky had gone there. Stink thing made eyes water like smoke. Foul stench, like death and snakes and old ashes. Easy to follow. Easy to hunt.
I did not want to leave Jane clothes and claws in place of dark. Did not know how to get back to them. Gathered her things and pushed them into the light with teeth and paws. They disappeared into the strange light.
Hunger sank claws into belly. Needed to eat. I crouched and tightened paws beneath me. Growled. Took deep breath. And leaped, screaming big-cat scream, into light.
Landed on dirt. Light burned eyes, so followed nose. Leaped again, high. Onto big prey. Back claws sank into its haunches, front claws into its shoulders. Something flashed with shadow, at face. Ripped with teeth at flare of black. Was like paper, like feathers or scales. Tasted bad. Slung ruff away, growling.
Buried killing teeth into its spine, on either side. Crushed down. Felt spine sever. Crunch-crunch through bones. Shaking. Hard. Thing started to fall forward. Spinning. Shook it hard, tearing through flesh. Ripped killing teeth free. Fell and fell like jump from tree limb.
Pushed off, long tail spinning for balance. Landed on its chest. Gripped throat, killing teeth sinking deep. Tasted blood. Tasted good. Big, good prey. Beast rode prey down like bison. Thing landed and bounced. Tore throat out with single rip. Blood splattered over coat. Into eyes. Prey head fell to side. Attached by small piece of skin. Dead.
I raised head and screamed into strange yellow sun. Calling out: Beast is good hunter! Beast killed prey like bison. Like big snake like cow. Screamed again: Beast is hungry and will eat.
Looked up. Saw woman, but not human-woman. She stood, watching Stinky and Beast, holding sword. Light flashed over her like Molly witch-magic, but not like Molly magic. Like Aggie One Feather shaman-magic, but not like. Witch and shaman and yet different. Like traveler. She had brought us here, through black cave-not-cave place, leading Stinky, like false prey.
I snarled. My kill. My food. She stepped back one step. Two. Showing proper deference. You can eat after, I thought at her. Hunger hurt belly, twisting.
“You can eat the whole damn thing for all I care,” she said. “But it’s a demon. I bet it’s gonna taste
