John Levitt - Unleashed

Lou gave another short bark and pointed his nose toward the top of a nearby crag. A figure stood there, motionless, back toward me, long hair blowing in the wind. It stared out over the moor as I climbed toward it, oblivious to my approach. The slope was steep enough to get me out of breath, whether it was real or not. As I got close, I heard the last refrain of the ballad:

May your heart be freed from sorrow.

May the heartbreak finally cease.

May you wake in joy tomorrow.

May you sleep tonight in peace.

By now I was close enough to recognize Sherwood, even with her back toward me. She stared out over the film-set moor, hair swirling in the breeze. She was Cathy, waiting for Heathcliff to return. The only anachronistic detail was the familiar purple highlights in her dark hair. She, like Lou, was not part of this black-and-white world.

“Sherwood,” I said quietly.

She broke off her song but didn’t answer. For a long moment she was silent, then slowly turned her head in my direction. Her face was calm, but her affect was flat, as if she weren’t fully engaged with the world. Her light gray eyes, usually gleaming with animation, were now cool and reflective. I had to look twice before I could convince myself it was really her.

“Mason?” she said.

I moved closer.

“It’s me.”

She stared right through me as if I weren’t there.

“Mason?” she asked again.

I reached out to touch her arm but stopped at the last moment as Lou gave a soft warning growl. There was something uncanny about her, a noli-me-tangere quality. I withdrew my hand, took a step back, and spoke again.

“Sherwood. Where are we?” Again, the long pause.

“Come get me,” she said, ignoring my question.

“How?”

“You can’t.” She turned her head away from me and I could barely make out her words. “When I go. He must call me. When I go. You can’t.” This was making no sense at all.

“Who must call you?” I asked. “Eli? Victor?” She mumbled something I couldn’t catch, except for “when I go” once again.

I reached out for her again, ignoring Lou’s warning. I couldn’t just stand there trading cryptic remarks. But when I grabbed hold of her arm it was as if I’d seized an ungrounded power line. A bolt of energy shot through me. I was knocked to the ground, blinded, and it felt like every nerve was exploding out of my body. I lay there stunned for a second, until I heard the strains of familiar music echoing through the air. When I cautiously opened my eyes I was back in the Columbarium, lying on the floor. An elderly black man leaning on a cane was standing over me, face filled with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked. I got shakily to my feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I told him. “Just a dizzy spell. I get them sometimes.”

“You sure?”

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Well, good.” He nodded gravely. “I’m the caretaker here.” Lou was standing quietly next to me, and he gestured at him with the cane. “Sorry, but you can’t have that dog in here. It’s not allowed.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” He looked at me like he knew I was lying and he knew I knew he knew.

“I was just leaving,” I assured him. “Come on, Lou.”

I walked out the door to the outside, a bit shakily. The world outside was bright with color, blues skies and green trees, a far cry from the black-and-white moor I’d been on only minutes before. I hadn’t a clue of what it had meant, but at least I’d have some time to mull it over, with Eli and Victor to help.

As we got up to the van, Lou stopped stock-still and began to growl. Not his warning growl; this was a snarl of pure hatred. Before I could even think, forty pounds of teeth and claws and strength streaked out from behind the van and launched itself at us.

ANYONE WALKING BY WOULD HAVE SEEN ONLY a crazed pit bull launching an attack on an unsuspecting victim. But I knew better. It seemed to have gained some size or weight, probably from picking off unwary pets. It had learned to disguise itself; that was why we hadn’t heard any reports of strange creatures prowling the city streets. But it hadn’t done a very good job. Its ears still had little tufts of fur on them; the claws on its feet scraped the pavement as it came bounding toward us; its movements were quick and jerky, nothing like the smooth and fluid motion of a real dog’s gait.

Naturally I didn’t have a spell ready to deal with it-my magic doesn’t usually work that way. I adapt, taking what I need from the environment around me, using sun and wind and bits of string and the sound of tinkling bells. It works for me; I’m flexible if nothing else, but right now I could have used some of Victor’s raw power and clever presets.

The other problem was that this creature was resistant to magic, much like a true Ifrit would be. So I also could have used one of Victor’s extensive collection of firearms.

About halfway to us it slowed momentarily, having trouble deciding on who to attack first. I was the obvious choice; if it attacked Lou, I’d be able to intervene. If it attacked me, there wasn’t much Lou could do about it. But it was cautious, and rightly so. One might assume that a puny unarmed human is no match for a wild animal, flush with sharp teeth and tearing claws, but that’s not always the case. I’m one hundred and eighty pounds, in shape, and reasonably strong. A four-hundred-pound tiger isn’t going to have any trouble with me, but a small carnivore, no matter how vicious, is another matter. Carl Akeley, a famous African explorer and hunter, once strangled an eighty-pound leopard to death with his bare hands after it dropped on him from an overhanging branch.

This creature could tear me up badly. If it got to my throat, it could kill me by ripping open an artery before I could get it off. But I could also kill it, grabbing hold of it and pounding its head against the pavement. It wasn’t interested in a Pyrrhic victory.

In the end, I think its obsessive hatred of all things Ifrit was the deciding factor. It swung left and lunged at Lou, the jaws of its curiously flattened face snapping shut inches from his tail.

I didn’t think twice. I glanced up at the Columbarium dome scattering sunlight through the air, twisted the refraction, and neatly divided Lou into five dogs. Not real dogs, of course; Lou and four illusions. Since the creature was related to Ifrits in some way, no illusion would fool it for more than a second. Not if they would obligingly stand still, that was. But with five small identical dogs running frantically in different directions, each one twisting and turning, it wasn’t so easy to tell the real from the fake.

It picked one at random and went after it. Man, the thing was fast. It caught up to the fleeing dog and fastened its jaws on the back of the dog’s neck, and I had a moment’s sick fear that it had guessed right. But no worry; Lou wouldn’t have let himself be caught so easily. The jaws chomped down on nothing at all, with the imitation dog continuing its run as if nothing had happened.

I took advantage of the mistake by sprinting toward the van. The creature saw and came after me, but I had too much of a head start. I jumped in the front seat and slammed the driver’s door in its face an instant before it could reach me. Leaning across the seat, I rolled down the passenger-side window and put the van in gear before it could make it around to the other side.

The fake dogs were still running in circles as I roared off down the street, but the real Lou was easy to spot now. He had stopped and was standing motionless, looking with total disbelief at the van speeding away. I slammed on the brakes and yelled at the top of my voice.