Feeding Frenzy (The Summoner Sisters Book 1) Page 8

  I bring a small compact mirror out from my jacket and angle it around the corner. Ophelia has her back to the door and is directly between my shot and Gregor. The slimy bastard has a pistol trained on her.

  I crawl back down the stairs, thinking so hard that my head feels like it’s going to cramp up. He’s keeping her alive, which means that killing her wasn’t his goal. Either he’s hoping to lure me, or he’s hoping to give her to the incubus. Or both. Well, then, it appears that there will be at least two monsters who will be sorely disappointed today.

  There’s a sort of clear-sighted calm that comes over people when adrenaline sets in. Training takes over, and if you get out of the way, survival instincts surface to guide you through the moment. After I give myself a second to clear my thoughts, I turn them to the immediate problem before me. Upstairs, there are three rooms and a bathroom. Gregor and Lia are in the one to the left, above the living room. I didn’t see anyone else in the room with them, which means that chances are, the victims are in the other two rooms. Can’t just toss the flash-bang grenade, then.

  Well, when one door closes….

  I stealthily go back out the way I came, finding the window to the room that Gregor and Lia are in. Conveniently, there is a trash can underneath it. I rewire the pin to a spool that I gingerly unwind as I go back inside and upstairs. Once I’m at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, I let that bad boy sing.

  The foundation rocks, and I can hear ringing in my ears even with half of the house between me and it. Sorry, Lia. No time to lose, I run back upstairs and find her fetal, hands over her ears, arms protecting her eyes. Gregor is already getting to his feet, a nasty gash on his head from the glass that has exploded inward. I aim my weapon straight at his chest. As I pull the trigger, a white hot something pushes my left shoulder, throwing off my aim. I clip Gregor in the leg instead. Then Lia is up and on him, clawing, scratching, wrestling the gun from him. I rush forward, and perform a quick technique to the back of the neck. Man, he’s a large human.

  “Huh!” I exclaim in surprise when the hit that should have laid him out ricochets harmlessly off of his skin. He grabs me by the arm and sends me crashing into Lia. I tuck neatly into a fall that I’ve had ingrained in me since I was about as tall as Gregor’s arm, but it still hurts. There’s nothing like taking a hit to rev up the ol’ ticker.

  “Any time now!” Lia yells. She has managed to maintain her angry cat attack, and is going for eye gouges, and jugular hits—I think she’s even biting him, which is nasty.

  While he struggles with my sister’s best octopus impression, I regain my footing and get behind him again. I prepare once more to try my until-very-recently fail proof knock out. Using way more power than my brain says it is advisable to use on humans, I complete the technique quickly, and this time it’s goodnight moon. It’s not usually this hard to render a human unconscious. The trick is timing it so you neither have to wait a million hours for them to wake up, nor have to go through the fight again. You also don’t want to, you know, accidentally kill them—that should be avoided. We’ve tried our techniques on each other a thousand times, and always make sure to carry smelling salts to revive our targets, or each other should things turn against us. A huge sigh escapes me now that the immediate danger is past, and I fall back against the wall.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I pant. “That was a thing, wasn’t it? You okay? Lia? Please tell me you’re okay.” I look over at her. She’s paler than usual and her hands are covering her mouth, her expression pained.

  “Hey, Lia, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Did that fucker hurt you?” I go to push myself up and go to her, but my arm gives out, oddly. I look at my left shoulder. It’s wetly oozing onto my jacket.

  “Aww,” I drawl intelligently.

  “Summer...just relax.” My sister stands up and looks around. There are clothes everywhere in this room—apparently our incubus is a shopaholic. Ophelia picks up a shirt that looks clean and gasps. Underneath the clothing is a head. A man’s head. His eyes are now permanently rolled back, a gruesome grin locked on his face. It’s hard to tell by smell alone how long he has been dead—the odors of several humans in a dingy, unventilated house do wonders to mask specific smells. However, his skin is as dry as paper and is pulled taut over jutting bones, indicating that he’s been dead some time. He seems to have died happy, even if it does give me the heebie jeebies now. Lia throws the shirt back over the face.

  “Oh my God,” she says with a shudder. “Do you think he’s one of the seven?”

  “Think he probably was, yeah. Poor guy.” I mourn for a moment that we weren’t able to save him, though by the looks of it, there wasn’t much we could have done to help him—he was too far gone. We may not even have been in town yet when he died. At least, that’s the story I’ll tell myself so that I don’t let it keep me up at night. I grunt in pain as some of the initial adrenaline wears off.

  Lia finds another article of clothing far away from the desiccated corpse and balls it up over my wound. “Let’s just get you to the car. You’re gonna be okay,” she directs, voice shaking.

  “Wait. Help me tie up Gregor, and then I can go down to the car,” I pant, taking the shirt from her and holding it myself. We don’t want him to get the jump on us when he comes to, so first we zip-tie his hands. Then Lia ties a rope around his enormous biceps and tree trunk thighs while I staunch his wound. We finish this with a thorough pat down, going through his pockets for any sort of tool he might use to free himself. If you’re gonna secure a person, don’t go for any of these wishy-washy, old timey, cops-and-robber-type rope jobs. Study your knots, keep your guests around.

  After this, Lia helps me make it down the stairs gingerly and out the front door to our car. She takes out some antiseptic, sterilized forceps and an extra-absorbent bandage before she goes to work on my shoulder. I spend the time making new expletives until she manages to fish out the bullet.

  “You might not want to, but you’ll live,” my sister says, her worry turning into relief as she ties the last knot on my bandage.

  “Oh. Good. Was afraid I was in danger,” I groan, falling back against the seat, sweat slick on my brow. Clyde nibbles my hair. I knock back a mega dose of painkiller and wait for it to hit me. That’s it. Next time we have the chance to squirrel some cash, we’re getting bulletproof vests. And maybe some local anesthetic.

  We probably don’t have much time now until Gregor wakes up, and I’d really like the house to be clear before he does. On the way back in, I check the remains of my first and probably last flash bang. It was a fun toy while I had it—ten out of ten, would detonate again. Thank heavens for vinyl siding—there’s obviously charring, and the metal trash can is essentially reduced into its component parts, but we’re safe from the risk of imminent fire. There’s one small blessing, at least.

  Back up what now feels more like eighteen flights of stairs, we first return to the room with Gregor in it. I check his pulse and breathing—he’s going to make it. Too bad. I tried like hell.

  “Summer, take a look at this.” I go to where Lia is standing. She’s found a shirt that seems to be inexplicably damp.

  “Gross.”

  “I think this is from the incubus. Think we should take it with us.” She delicately picks it up with a gloved hand and brings it up to eye level. I watch as her pupils suddenly dilate and her cheeks flush. Then she crushes the garment to her chest, breathing it in.

  “Ew! Lia, what the hell!” I wrest it from her, and she shudders back to awareness. The small puff of air that I disturb while I do this hits my nose and now I feel something, too. Well. This is awkward.

  “Yeah that’s...that’s definitely his,” she sighs.

  “And the freaking out part? Do you often rub yourself in sweat?”

  “No! Ugh, that’s what I did, isn’t it? No, it’s got his...pheromones or toxin or whatever on it. I guess it must be more potent the more you have contact with it.”

  “And what are we
gonna do with the shirt? This isn’t like...a sex thing, is it?”

  “No! Well. I guess no promises. But my initial thought is we should take it to Nisha. Have her see if she can figure out what it is, and use it for the good of mankind. Or at least make us something to counteract the effect without having to cover ourselves in oak.”

  “Not a bad plan,” I concede. Nisha is a friend of ours. She’s a biochemical engineer with a job in a big pharmaceutical lab a little north of here. In her spare time, she enjoys investigating weird stuff, and is the inventor and procurer of many of our supplies. I wrap the shirt in a plastic bag I find on the floor, and add it to my pack.

  “Okay!” Ophelia turns to me. “Let’s go see what’s behind door number one.”

  “Here’s hoping it’s not more corpses,” I add grimly.

  We slowly open the door and peer in. Thank goodness—no more dead people. Initially, everyone in the room is just sitting there quietly, like they’re waiting for something. There are jugs of water, and saltines. The women inside seem mostly clean and even aware of their surroundings, which is good news, but it also troubles me. What the hell is going on? I had expected a bunch of wasting thralls, more along the lines of the body we just found. Instead we are met with calm—albeit painfully gaunt—kids. My surprise increases, however, when they all get up upon seeing us. They take a synchronized deep breath and begin circling us.

  “Is this your new form?”

  “Did you bring us a new friend?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  We are swarmed by three of the four missing girls, our persons suddenly covered in...very inquisitive hands and torsos and…okay. I draw the line at tongues.

  “Girls! Please! We are not an incubus! Ow!” I yell as one cheeky one—I think this one’s Melanie—pulls my hair.

  “Saint Paul on a pogo stick!” Lia exclaims. “I would leave ‘em too, if they were like this all the time. People—even incubus people—need space sometimes for fuck’s sake!”

  It’s the wrong word choice, and we now spend several minutes forcefully disentangling ourselves from the captive girls.

  “No! Back! Retreat!” I yell. We start moving back towards the door, fending off hands. We slip out, pushing faces, arms, and legs that seem to multiply the harder we try to push. For a tense moment I fear that we’ve unleashed the kraken, and that all of our efforts to contain it will be for naught. With one final shove they all fall back into a tangle of lady, disappearing once more into the depths of the room. Lia slams the door shut with all of her strength. When it’s clear it will hold them, we go into a huddle.

  “What the f—”

  “Please don’t say that word right now, Lia.”

  “—flying monkey!” she finishes.

  “I have no idea. Like, there are no ideas in my head. I think I’ve rattled them all out.”

  “I thought we thought they were gonna be on the verge of death?” she asks accusingly.

  “That is what I thought.”

  “And instead they had mob strength.”

  “They had preternatural swarm capabilities.”

  “And those sounds.”

  I grimace. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to make sounds during sex again, I’ll forever feel like I’m trying to reach that level.”

  My sister looks at me in horror. “Dammit! Why does this job ruin everything!”

  “Who you tellin’,” I grumble, checking my shoulder. “So, what’s plan B?”

  “I think it’s the shirt that got ‘em riled,” Lia asserts.

  “Oh, right!” I fumble in my bag for the damp article of clothing. “I’ll try throwing it as soon as we open the door.”

  “Let’s just...let’s just make the poultice first, yeah?”

  “Good plan. Lia...did you get a count of how many there were in there?”

  “Pretty sure it was three.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. So, where’s the other girl?”

  “Maybe she’s in the other room?”

  Hoping she’s right, we mix together oak ash, goat’s blood from a butcher job we worked previously, and various cleansing herbs while chanting a short prayer to Akeso and Panakeia—the goddesses of doctors and patients. Armed this time with both knowledge and goat blood soup, we head back in. I throw the shirt into a corner, watching as two of the girls inhale and go for it. The third one stands her ground.

  The most recent female abductee, Melanie, also appears to be the most strung out of the group. She has hollows under her eyes and in her cheeks where it’s obvious she’s quickly lost a lot of weight that she couldn’t afford to lose. Apparently, the toxin has more pronounced effects on some people. She stays near us, trying to touch the parts of us that have made contact with the shirt. This is frustrating for me, but incredibly uncomfortable for my sister, who is now fending the woman off bodily. It would be funny, in a different situation. Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.

  “No! Stop! This is not okay!” Lia proclaims. “Summer, help!” I fumble one-handed with our concoction. My shoulder is beginning to go numb, which slows me down. Finally I’m able to get up to the person invading my sister’s personal space bubble, and manage to spread our poultice on Melanie’s forehead, like I’m anointing her. Melanie’s eyes roll back in her head and she drops to the ground, suddenly unconscious and clearly dreaming. Lia and I look at each other in further surprise. Let’s just say it’s our first time ever having touched a girl in a way that made her black out and, well, moan like this.

  “Kinda nervous to do this to the others,” I remark to Lia.

  “Yeah. If that’s what happens to one of the newer umm...converts, what’ll happen to the people who have been exposed to the toxin longer?”

  “I know. What if they like...go into a rapture or coma or something?”

  “Maybe try it on the back of their hands first?”

  I head over to the remaining two women and do as she suggests, while Ophelia restrains them. I am horrified when their hands begin swelling up, like the blood is suddenly flowing to them again. They are bright pink and engorged, the two girls making sounds of pain instead of pleasure. I’m scared that we’ve really messed up before the wave of pink splotchiness begins rising up their arms, and the pressure in their hands begins to normalize again. Then they too pass out in the same noisy fashion. Shaken, and I’ll say it, a little stirred, my sister and I retreat to the hallway.

  “Bloody hell.” My sister swears.

  “Unf,” I agree.

  We both look simultaneously at the door leading to the final bedroom. I go up, and open the door just enough to peek in before slamming it back closed.

  “Just the two boys,” I say to my sister solemnly.

  “Well, there was only the one corpse, so the missing girl has to be somewhere,” Lia replies, trying to sound positive.

  “Here’s hoping. So, then. Just gotta take care of the boy humans.” I look at the door, but don’t move. Lia nods along to my statement, but she also hangs back.

  “I don’t think we want to go in there,” I determine eventually, wincing as the ache in my shoulder makes itself known.

  “At least there’s only two of them,” Lia reasons, looking for the bright side again.

  “Yeah, two much larger dudes who expect to see women.”

  “I’m not opposed to being looked for,” she teases, but she makes no move towards the room, either. Time stretches as we both try to will ourselves into a confined space with a couple of horny guys who will probably make us at least as uncomfortable as the girls did. At length, Lia speaks up.

  “You know, there’s nothing says we can’t have a little fun, first. What if we just—no, hear me out. It’s not what you think. What if we just shoot them?”

  It isn’t what I thought she was going to say, and while I was ready to say “no” to what I assumed her initial perverted suggestion would be, this one makes me pause.

  “I don’t think we can,” I say reluctantly. “I
t wouldn’t be right.”

  She smiles evilly. “Well, then we could just—”

  “NO.”

  “You’re way too easy to tease,” my sister says proudly.

  “That’s right, mock the person who took a bullet for you.”

  She puts her hand on my good shoulder.

  “I can’t handle any more mushiness right now, Lia. Yes, I think you’re pretty great. I’m wonderful, we know that. Okay. Here’s the plan….”

  About a minute later, we burst into the bedroom, the poultice on our three working hands. Expecting the barrage of affection this time, we wait for them to circle us and smear it on each of their forearms. They fall down like lusty dominoes, and we scamper back to the relative serenity of the hallway. All is quiet for a moment, aside from the soft sounds of the people whose lives it seems we have simultaneously saved and ruined.

  “Cannot wait to get out of here,” Lia says. I grunt. The painkillers aren’t really keeping up with the job I’ve set them. I’m tired, leaking from my shoulder and horribly distracted by our day so far. It may not be the best time to bring it up, but it’s been awhile since I’ve made any of these noises myself.

  “Okay, that was fun,” I breathe, trying to keep my head clear and my stomach from making any sudden movements.

  “Ready for round two?” Lia hands me a bottle of water, which I swig gratefully.

  “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

  We begin the grueling task of getting five grown humans downstairs. It’s sort of like moving a couch out of a walk up apartment, if the couch had no frame, couldn’t take being angled certain ways, and kept saying unsettling things to you like “oh yeah, don’t stop.”

  I will need a million showers after this, and at least half of them will be cold.

  We pile them awkwardly in our car, four in the back row and one up front—we had to take out the third row to make room for Clyde. I hope they stay passed out—the four in the back might feel a little self-conscious if they wake up in their current configuration.

  “Hmm,” Lia thinks out loud. “I don’t think we thought this through.”