A chittering, monkey-laugh erupted behind me and I whirled around to face the noise. A manifestation the size of a rhesus monkey scampered into view, outlined by other street lights that still strobed madly.
That was no monkey.
Its skull came to a point, and its flaring ears came to sharp tips, like a classic demon. The chin narrowed to a point matching the one at the top of the skull.
A gremlin.
The leathery face split into a grin filled with a forest of needle-sized teeth, and its black-pit eyes sparkled maliciously.
I pointed my wand at it. “I evoke the Law of the Compact, and bind you to my will,” I said in English. At least that was what I tried to say around suddenly numb lips
It came out, “I provoke the Craw of the Impact, and grind goo to my spill.” I narrowed my eyes, raised the wand again. Geeze.
I tried the same command in French, ending my gesture with the best crisp flourish I could muster on short notice.
My wand slipped from my fingers and clattered on the sidewalk.
I dove after it, but missed, banging my hands on the pavement. Ouch. I pulled myself up, drawing my binding dagger.
“Shackle,” I tried to say as I made a pass with the blade, its edges shimmering bluely. Simple spells lacked power but were quick. “Tackle,” I heard myself say.
“Hee-hee!” The gremlin’s laughter exploded in a drawn-out hiss. It charged me, little legs pumping madly, and cannonballed off my chest. I staggered backwards, and fell on my butt.
The gremlin raced to the end of the block and scampered up a crossing signpost.
I pulled myself off the sidewalk and began chanting a binding spell in Latin, my words low. After the flop I’d taken trying to cast the last spell, I needed to take my time. I held the blade up, made a slashing motion to my right, then one to my left, and then one at the air in front of me.
Faint threads of golden light appeared from the point of my dagger, stretching around the gremlin, who had been watching me with a cat-swallowing grin the whole time.
“Hee-hee!” Its laughter echoed off the buildings. The golden threads snarled and fell away, disappearing just above the ground.
Brimstone and bonfires, I swore silently. The binding spell should have worked. This was a gremlin manifestation, and like most gremlin manifestations, looked to be a recent one. It had to be a Class II—recently arrived. But, the amount of magic power it possessed to make the world go haywire was far higher than a Class II. More like a Class V. But gremlins were new manifestations in the overall scheme of things
That was when I noticed we weren’t alone.
A Portland police cruiser pulled up to the curb and an officer stepped out. His face was wary. Great. Now I had to deal with mundane law enforcement, on top of a magical mischief maker.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” the officer asked. He stood warily, feet braced, one hand near his holstered pistol. The name on his uniform I.D. was “J. Kyle.”
I still held the binding dagger.
“Please put the knife down,” he said.
The traffic lights began blinking purple and orange. The walk signs suddenly showed a lit silhouette of a man with his arms over his head. I had to get that gremlin, but without the binding knife, doing so was going to be hard.
“It’s a ceremonial knife,” I said.
“Please lay it down, ma’am.” His hand inched closer to his sidearm.
I laid the knife down. If only I had a persuader sprite on me. This hadn’t quite gotten to the point where my life was in jeopardy, not counting nearly splattering on the sidewalk a few minutes ago, but a sprite, despite its silver tongue, couldn’t change physics. Then again, if I’d had a sprite on me, the unbelievably powerful gremlin would probably have twisted it.
I raised my hands. “What seems to be the problem, Officer Kyle?” I asked, putting on my best supportive civilian voice.
Kyle looked about my age, mid-twenties. His eyes were wide, and sweat rimmed his face.
I looked over his shoulder. Not only was the traffic light here acting bizarre, but the traffic lights the next three blocks were flashing manically in every color but the standard ones. A huge spray of water three blocks away glimmered in the flickering street lights. A big semi-trailer blocked the street, hazard lights blinking rapidly. Too fast for normal. That explained the lack of traffic. I had managed to drop into a wild arcane party.
Kyle shook himself. “Do you know what’s happening?” he asked. “Gremlins are here! Real, actual gremlins. Granddad didn’t lie about them after all.”
This was bad. Very bad. He shouldn’t have any idea about gremlins being here. Your non-arcane human should be blissfully ignorant about manifestations. The supernatural should just be superstition to them.
“Gremlin? What gremlin?” I asked. The key to keeping the average person from starting to see the Hidden arcane is to introduce doubt.
“The ones that have wrecked the area,” Kyle said, his voice rising. His gun was out and waving in my general direction.
“Listen, there’s no such thing as a gremlin,” I said. “I heard some monkeys escaped from the primate center in Aloha and hitched a ride on the MAX, and then caught the street car to come here. Rubber-necking drivers caused that accident that knocked over the fire hydrant two blocks away. Remember?”
My mouth had taken on a life of its own as it desperately tried to save me by spinning a counter story. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever said. But, to the police officer’s conscious, analytical mind, supernatural creatures would seem ridiculous, too. Errant monkeys were way more likely than gremlin manifestations making the industrial district go haywire.
At the very least, it would divert his attention from using his firearm.
Only it didn’t.
Kyle shook his head. “Those aren’t monkeys. They’re gremlins. My granddad was in the
