Anthony Francis - Frost Moon

But reality was more complicated: the line between air and skin, skin and flesh was blurry; each had its own capacity to carry manabut a difference of degree, rather than kind. After all, a cell phone is just like a land line-once you realize the air can act like a wire.

I could use that coating of pitch, project the power of my tattoos inward, make my body like the air, to hold that power and release it. It might damn near kill me-but with the magic hidden away behind my skin, Mirabilus would never see it coming.

I had a chance, if I could only find a distraction.

"Every drop of blood in her body," Transomnia said, breathing heavily. "Oh, yessss, juice of the forbidden fruit. I will enjoy defying the Lady Saffron again."

But… he hadn't defied Savannah before. He had practically been a rules lawyer, skirting what harm he could do to me without defying her ban. I twisted my neck to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow, eyes trying to communicate… something. He knew what he was saying was wrong. What the hell? What was I missing?

My eyes widened as I remembered it had been awfully easy to get in here-and yet Transomnia knew exactly how to shut me down. He just hadn't told his guards.

"Maybe I'll make Jinx my apertif before I feast on you, Dakota," he hissed, leaning down close, his desperate face in opposition to his words; but when he leaned back where Mirabilus could see him, he was practically leering in hunger. "And Alex will make a nice palate cleanser before I have Buckhead for dessert-"

I writhed and squeezed my hands. The mana built up in them and fed back, burning my skin, sinking into my body, like I'd drunk an entire pot of hot coffee. I could feel the tingling start, rippling down my insides-but held on to the power, held onto it tight.

"Please burn out your hands trying to awaken your marks," Mirabilus said, raising his dagger. "I'll drink in your power until not a scrap is left-"

Transomnia stepped up behind Mirabilus for a better view, leaning in, winking at him, leering down at me, making me duck and flinch. Mirabilus glared and Transomnia stepped back, hands raised in mock surrender. But the moment the wizard's face turned away, he caught my eye and raised his finger to his lips… and showed me the pruners.

I looked away in terror. What new horror was this? But his face had shifted from eager leering sycophant to… something else, just for a second. Mirabilus stepped forward, to the edge of the platform, and placed his clammy geezer hand on my bare backside. I looked back one last time, and saw Transomnia raise the pruners high behind Mirabilus's head.

"Whatever you're going to do, do it now, Dakota," he said.

And rammed the pruners down with vampire speed.

Mirabilus whirled, crying out in pain as the pruners stabbed into his collarbone. Faster than a vampire, stronger than a werewolf, his fist popped out and clocked Transomnia under the chin; Transomnia staggered back, but pulled with his right hand on the pruners, making Mirabilus scream as they ripped free. Mirabilus shook the pain off, shifted his shoulders and chest, and his tattoos blazed to life.

Transomnia tumbled backwards, screaming as Mirabilus poured all his power out into the air. Snakes snapped at him, bees stung him, and spiders whirled around him, twining his legs so he tumbled backwards off the stage. But somehow, despite all the power, all the artistry, even with the magic flying through the air, there was something off about Mirabilus' designs… something flat, and two dimensional.

Mirabilus was an old school magician. He had thought Transomnia had taken my weapons away by coating my 'vessels' with pitch to keep the magic from leaking out into the air and awakening my marks. But that theory of magic was over a hundred years out of date. I, on the other hand, was an Edgeworlder. We experiment, not inherit; and I knew from the burning in my gut that what we'd learned was true: as mana was concerned, the flesh of the body was just another kind of air-except it could hold a thousand times more mana.

I ignored the sounds of Transomnia's screams, and drew in one painful breath. Then I let it out slowly, sinuously rippling my back, pouring every ounce of mana I had into the Dragon.

The pain of so much mana was incredible as it reverberated through my body and streamed out of my skin. I screamed. I squeezed my eyes shut as my vision exploded into white light. Then the light faded, slowly-and suddenly I saw through new eyes.

The world before me was sharp, but its colors distorted, my point of view rising through a stream of colors and flame.. My new eyes looked down, and I could see my own trembling body, could watch as the glittering scales and rippling form of my finest tattoo glowed, detached from my skin and came to life. I saw through the eyes of the Dragon, rearing over a shocked Mirabilus in a fully dimensional tower of color and flame.

"Spirit offire," I whispered. "Show him the light!"

The Dragon unleashed a torrent of fire upon Mirabilus, blackening and burning his body. His tattoos seared and dissolved, leaking mana in fitful incoherent sparks, and he fell backward with a tortured scream. Then the Dragon reared back and pounced upon him, jaws snapping down upon his neck as its long, segmented tail detached from me.

My link to the Dragon severed abruptly, and I opened my own eyes to see its curling form, rippling and alive-and savaging Mirabilus. With each bite it seemed to grow more real and strong, until it stopped and looked back at me, fully opaque, all aglow in glittering coils and sparking blue eyes. Then it raised its wings, screeched, and shot upwards, exploding through the ceiling of Hell, disappearing into the darkness.

Valentine twisted, moaned, raised one weak, bloody hand after the Dragon. Then he collapsed and was still, mana streaming slowly out of his ruined tattoos like slow rainbow fire.

"Finally," Transomnia said, clambering back up onto the stage, burnt, singed, but still standing. "Free of you, you sick fuck."

He stared down at Valentine's body for a long, long time. Then he looked up abruptly at me, and I flinched. I had nothing left. No way to defend myself. If he decided to come after me-and then his hand came out of his pocket, holding the pruners.

"Oh, God," I said, ducking my head back down to the dais. "Oh, God-"

"Oh, quit whining," Transomnia said, strolling around me, cutting the wires on my wrists, then pulling me up to a sitting position. "But we're not done."

He strolled off casually, and I just sat there, propping myself up with one hand, covering myself with another, ankles still pulled apart by the wires. He returned with a rag and grabbed my right hand and began wiping it off roughly. I sat there, trembling, letting him do it, until he finally gave up in disgust and released my only slightly less grimy hand.

"That will have to do," he said, opening his shirt. "Now get this fucking thing off me!"

My eyes widened. There was an elaborate knot tattooed on Transomnia's chest-a bat, practically turned inside out inside an elaborate design pulling at it with fishhooks. It was a controlling charm, from the looks of it precisely the same kind inked on WulfTransomnia had been just as much a pawn as he had.

I gathered my strength and reached out with my cleaned hand. At first I felt nothing; then I caught the edge of the mana, began flexing my fingers, and drew the magic out into the air. The bat squealed and squeaked as its prison dissolved. The fishhooks of the design came loose and flailed in the air. But I didn't let them get a grip on anything, and soon the whole design dissolved into sparks, leaving nothing but a faint ghost of an impression on his chest.

"Thank you," Transomnia said, buttoning his shirt, somehow taller, more businesslike. He popped the wires on my ankles, left, right, and I gratefully pulled my feet together and huddled in a mound on the dais. Transomnia calmly walked away and stood over Valentine's corpse-and began kicking it, grievously, brutally, methodically, each time releasing a flash of magic and color as his body flipped and skittered across the floor.