The Spirit Thief

“Great Spirit,” she started shakily. “I know we have no right to prevent you from reclaiming your land, but if you could just wait a day or two, I’m sure we could move people and some of the spirits out of the way. Then you could reclaim your basin, and we could limit the loss of life.”

She finished hopefully, smiling up at the glowing water. It did not respond. Miranda’s smile faltered, and she began to fidget. “Of course, it might take some convincing to get people to-”

“Are you finished?” the great wave rumbled.

Miranda jumped. “More or less.”

“Then I have heard you out. Your offer is unacceptable. I will not delay my freedom for the convenience of those who have profited from my imprisonment.”

“Now hold on,” Eli said, stepping up to stand beside Miranda. “If you’re a Great Spirit, isn’t it your responsibility to watch over the lesser spirits?”

The wave turned, angling the peak of its foaming crest directly at Eli’s head. “What do you know of that, human?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Eli said, staring up at the swirling water with his arms crossed over his chest. “I know your imprisonment was awful, but, enslaved or free, you’re still a Great Spirit. Those animals and trees and all the rest living on what used to be your land, they’re yours to guard just as much as the fish that lived in you when this was all sea. Even if things have changed, you can’t just turn your back on them.”

Without warning, the shallow water at Eli’s feet geysered up, lifting the thief clear off the ground until he was level with the wave’s crest.

“What would a human know of the pain of enslavement?” the spirit roared. “Who are you to lecture me when it was your kind who created this situation? You humans disgust me. You came from nowhere-blind, short lived, half deaf-and yet you were given dominion over the spirit world? Understand this, boy”-the geyser of water surged higher still, pushing Eli almost to the ceiling-“I take no more orders from your kind.”

With a flick of his current, the great spirit sent Eli hurtling across the ruined hall. For a gut-wrenching moment, Eli flew silently through the dark. Then he struck the crumbling wall with a deathly thud and tumbled with a splash to the ground. Miranda held her breath, waiting for him to move, to breathe. But he did not stir. The ripples around him stilled, and Miranda felt her stomach turn to ice. Without thinking, or knowing what she could do if she reached him, she hurled herself forward, slipping and skidding across the wet floor. Before she had gone more than a few steps, a wall of water erupted, blocking her path.

She whirled on the spirit, eyes flashing. “You had no right!” she shouted. “Thief or not, he helped us, helped you.” Her spirit roared open, stronger and brighter than it had ever been and sharp as a spear as she leveled it at the water’s glowing heart.

“Come then, little girl,” the wave rumbled, rising up. “If this is how your kind repays kindness, it’s better I kill you like this than leave you to dirty my waters later.”

“Miranda!” Gin howled, struggling to stand. “He’s a Great Spirit, Miranda! Don’t be an idiot!”

But Miranda’s rage had taken her further than his voice could reach. With a roar, she hurled the sharpened edge of her spirit at the sea’s glowing heart as the water at her feet erupted, covering everything in a great, white wave.

Eli lay on his back where he had landed, trying not to think. He tried not to think about the pain or the freezing water that soaked his lower body. He tried not to think about the waves of spirit power rolling over each other just a few feet away. He especially tried not to think about the frantic, desperate edge on the fiery spirit he had come to recognize as Miranda’s, and what that kind of desperation meant for their odds of survival.

Worried about her? a familiar, silky voice whispered in his ear.

Eli started, sending a new wave of pain through his body. The sultry voice chuckled. Such a pretty little wizardess, and so concerned for your safety, she tsked in his ear. These little dalliances of yours make me less inclined to help you.

“It’s not a dalliance,” he muttered. “And I didn’t ask for your help.”

A thin, white line appeared in the air above him. It hung for a moment, shedding its ghostly white light in a surgical stripe across his chest. Then, with a sound like silk sliding through sand, a white hand reached through the cut in the air to cup his chin. Long, feminine fingers, whiter than moonlit snow, stroked his bleeding cheek, leaving a burning touch behind that was almost painful, yet never enough.

I rather like you this way, she murmured, tracing the bridge of his nose. Broken and helpless. It reminds me of when I first found you. Thattime, you accepted me with open arms.

“Time is a fickle master,” Eli said, closing his eyes against the light. “He changes many things.”

You’re full of sayings today. The disembodied hand brushed past his lips and slid down his neck to his chest, tapping the gaping wound the stones had torn open when he hit the wall, just below Karon’s burn. Eli sucked in a breath when she touched the ragged skin, and he felt her chuckle against his skin. Your time is about to end, if you stay like this. Such a pity, I hate watching you squander my gifts. Her white fingers moved in circles along his rib cage, tracing the bloodstains on his torn shirt. Of course, her voice slid seductively along his ear, I could help you, if you asked nicely.

Eli turned away. “Do what you want, Benehime.”

She laughed gleefully as he said her name, and a second disembodied hand snaked through the white opening to join the first. Her palms slid over his open wound and, still laughing, she pressed down. Overwhelming pain lanced though Eli’s body, darkening his vision and slamming his teeth together. It was as if every wound, bruise, cramp, and discomfort from the past twelve hours was happening again, only all at once, and amplified. He gasped and tried to jerk away, but Benehime’s hands pinned him to the icy floor as surely as if he were nailed there. The pain went on and on, until he was sure it would never end and he would be stuck like this forever. Then, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, it stopped. The pressure lifted from his chest and breath thundered back into his body.

As he lay on his back in the shallow water, gasping like a landed fish, Benehime’s white hands moved to cup his cheeks. Next time, I’ll make you beg, she murmured, trailing her burning touch across his skin one last time before drawing her hands back through the white cut in the air. I will see you soon, my favorite star.

The white line faded with her voice, leaving Eli staring at the empty air. It took a few moments more for her overwhelming presence to fade completely, and as his soul righted itself, he realized he could barely feel Miranda’s spirit at all anymore.

Miranda was on her hands and knees in the water beside Gin’s flank, panting. Her librarian’s outfit was dirtied beyond recognition, and her pinned hair had tumbled in a wet tangle down her neck, clinging to her skin like red seaweed caught in the tide hole of her shoulders. She was soaked and shivering, her eyes dull and weary, but she was not beaten. They were huddled in a small circle, with Josef and Nico’s heads propped on Gin’s paws to keep them from drowning in the shallow water that rode in hand-high waves across what was left of the marble floor. The fact that Gin did this without complaining was proof enough of how serious the situation was. Two feet above them, held back only by the invisible bell jar of Miranda’s open spirit, the wall of black water rippled in threatening patterns.

Mellinor surrounded them on all sides, his powerful current beating steadily against the thin bubble of Miranda’s spirit. Each time the water crashed down, she felt her mind drowning under the endless, tireless power. Each time, it pushed her right to the edge of buckling, but each time she rallied and met the crash strength for strength, keeping their tiny bubble intact for another few seconds before the next wave hit and the struggle started all over again.

In the tiny space between the surges, the grim corner of her mind that could still think on things besides mere survival wondered why she bothered to resist.

She had done well, at first. After Eli went down, she’d been able to go blow for blow with the water for a little while. The great spirit was powerful, but his imprisonment had left him slow and weak. However, the longer he spent in the open air and moonlight, the more his power returned, and as he had gained strength, Miranda had exhausted hers. Slowly, inch by inch, the great spirit had pushed her back until he washed her under entirely. Now,