Bitter Magic (World War Magic Book 2) Read online

  After the three surviving members of the book club had escaped the fiery confusion of Ockham Square, Grainne was the one who insisted they turn themselves into the authorities. She’d argued strongly, with conviction, that the government would know what to do. The people in charge would have a plan, maybe several different options. This couldn’t be the first time since eradication this had happened.

  She may have been right. Given the swift reaction when the three of them turned themselves in, somebody had been prepared. If their small book club wasn’t the first set of people magic had infected, then God rest the souls of the others who went before them.

  Back in Ockham Square, Emily screamed, and Grainne turned toward her friend, hands automatically reaching for her. Where her own skin held a gentle purple glow, Emily’s was burning with the deep orange-tongued flame of crackling fire. Grainne had shrieked, matching Emily in volume. She turned in panicked circles as though expecting a fire extinguisher to be mounted in the open village square.

  The water bottle that had been on the table seconds earlier lay nearby. Grainne stretched out her glowing arm to snag it. She spun the top off and squeezed the contents at Emily. A tiny spray of water that sizzled and evaporated as soon as it landed.

  Her skin was blackening, her mouth was open, a soldier stood behind her. The young man had appeared in an instant. A security guard stationed at the perimeter of the square.

  The man took aim. Grainne saw his knees bend, his arms lock. The barrel of the rifle lay against his cheek while he winked down the sight. He fixed on her best friend, her best love, as a target. He was too far away. Before she could even form the thought of running at him, the bullet hit Emily. Her head knocked backward as though struck by a fist.

  She screamed. Grainne screamed. A horrifying cacophony that took over her entire mind. Although she clapped her hands over her ears, the sound continued. Internal, not external.

  Emily’s screams erupted from the same place that Grainne had once heard God speak to her. Deep inside her head.

  Grainne jammed her fingertips deep inside her ears, desperate. She fell to her knees beside Emily’s stricken body.

  “Get away!”

  The soldier’s order went unregistered. Grainne was too focused on her friend. Her hand crept out toward Emily’s shoulder as the skin charred, turned to cinders, turned to ash, and dropped away.

  Jane’s sweaty forearm grabbed her around the middle and hauled Grainne backward. She’d beat at her, fingernails raking deep lines down her skin. As Jane continued to pull, Grainne’s feet tripped over each other. She fell backward. Twisted onto her side.

  Grainne opened her mouth and roared with the desperate loss. She yelled with rugged sounds of pain, fear, anger, confusion. She needed to get back to Emily before her friend could disintegrate into nothing. Before her entire body could turn into ashes as though Emily had never existed. She needed to help her, heal her. A line of cyan blue light shot from her forearm, striking Emily and enveloping her burning body.

  Emily’s screams cut off.

  As Grainne’s eyes widened, perplexed, she smelled Jane’s sweat pouring from the armpit as she raised it above her head.

  “Mary. Mary!”

  The soldier turned as though the cry was an order. The barrel of the gun swung and leveled at Grainne. Her eyes widened, staring at certain death. Then Jane was at her again, pulling, shoving. The bullet hit the café wall behind them. It shattered brickwork next to the cheek of a white-blonde girl whose empty eyes stared straight ahead.

  Again, the soldier aimed the gun towards her. This time, the gun jammed. The barrel was surrounded by a glowing halo of blue. A pulse of light that emanated from the palms of Grainne’s hands.

  “We need to—”

  Jane’s shout was cut off as the whole world shifted. A stream of color, scent, and sounds dissolved around Grainne’s head. With an echo of Emily’s terrified cries ringing deep inside her memory, Grainne closed her eyes. The sweet smell of Jane’s cookie breath was on her cheek. The plumpness of Jane’s arms was wrapped tight around Grainne’s midriff.

  The ground softened under her feet.

  A cool wind blew, lifting the small, curling hairs that framed Grainne’s face. The scent of fresh pine, strong and liberating in a way that an air freshener could only dream of emulating, overpowered the sweet smell of biscuit crumbs. Mary gave a short, startled yelp of surprise behind her. Grainne removed herself reluctantly from Jane’s embrace and opened her eyes.

  The three of them were standing in a forest.

  With her mind whirling over a transition that made no sense, Grainne bent over to touch the rich earth beneath her feet. A coating of dead brown needles covered the twisting roots and compacted dirt.

  One more shock in a day too full of perplexing events already. Grainne spun in a circle, while Mary barked a staccato laugh again. The branches of the tall pine trees intermeshed above their heads to form a dark green canopy. It sheltered them from the sun, lowering now as the day faded into the afternoon.

  “What happened?” Grainne asked, her voice rich with dismay. A stupid question to which she didn’t expect an answer.

  Purple and blue light whirled in playful circles around her outstretched hand. A tiny thread broke off to burrow deep into the ground, like a fat earthworm. Grainne stood, curling her hand to her chest in revulsion. But the light was on her, everywhere. Coating her like a second skin.

  Not knowing what more to do, the three of them stood in a loose circle. Hoping to return to a state of peace compared to the shocking circumstances that had been pelting them.

  Grainne’s heart was already heavy with Emily’s loss. She felt as though her friend had been ripped from the very core of her body. Her head was bruised from the piercing assault, inside and outside. The ear canals where she’d jammed her fingers deep, were throbbing.

  In grudging acknowledgment, she imagined that Jane felt the loss far more keenly. Grainne had lost somebody she’d loved, passionately, for near on two years. Jane had lost a friend who formed a supporting chain throughout her life for forty years. It would have taken almost another lifetime for Grainne to begin to understand how that felt.

  Did that make her flippant now for blaming Jane’s demise on the sudden lack of cookies? Of course, it did. She was a bitch. Even when she didn’t say those things aloud, the negative thoughts clouded up in her.

  Stuck there, in the woods, not even understanding how they got there, Mary, Jane, and Grainne sat down. Each one gasping with shock. Distraught with grief. Their attempt to work out a plan was clouded with a lack of knowledge. As the sun set, the three of them hadn’t even thought of shelter. They lay down, huddled together, on a bed of rotting pine needles instead of goose down.

  None of them slept. During the night, Grainne first heard Jane, then Mary whimper. Not out loud. That would be too shameful for any of them. But the knowledge of their distress wandered into her head. As Grainne wasn’t sure how the connection began, she didn’t know how to end it.

  By the time the sun rose in the sky, the weird link had become normal to her. She sent out a question using only her mind as the dawn brushed the horizon with pale pink light. Neither of them replied. Not with their mouths. After a few moments spent waiting, Grainne realized she could tell that they didn’t hear her thoughts.

  Jane had teleported them. Grainne could see into other people’s minds and tell what they were thinking. Curious, she turned to Mary, asking, “What has the magic light done for you?”

  “What?” she asked, her lips parting in shock. She looked down at her arms where they were coated in a pale, blue glow and shook her head, unseeing.

  Although it was clear to Grainne that Jane was accepting of what had happened to them, she felt as Mary’s mind clouded with ruptured thinking patterns. Twisting in upon itself and what her senses reported as she sought to deny the truth.

  “We need to go and see someone in authority,” Grainne suggested. Possibly the worst mistak
e she’d ever made. Or would make now. “If we pay a visit to the police, they’ll know what to do.”

  In the state of confusion and disarray the group found themselves in, an agreement was soon reached. It wasn’t a case of Grainne forcing them to bend to her will so much as a total absence of other ideas.

  Looking back, Grainne now couldn’t fathom why the idea of just going home never occurred to her. They could have all gone home. Sat down to make themselves comfortable until the events of that terrible day started to shift into order and make some sense. After a few days, they may have been able to work out a plan. A few hours, even. Just space and time to understand and come to terms with their new powers. But no. Like any lady victim in any horror story, Grainne had immediately pleaded for help.

  As the sun of the new day stretched high into the sky above them, Jane gathered the three into a group hug and thought them back to Ockham Square. Tape crisscrossed in a cobweb of patterns, marking the area where each plane passenger fell.

  Soldiers were dotted about the scene, waiting for them or just waiting for anybody. They were dressed in heavy khaki uniforms, topped with Kevlar vests and holding guns they immediately trained at the women’s chests.

  “Wait,” Grainne called out, raising her hands into the air. “We’re unarmed. We surrender. We need your help.”

  The guns didn’t move from their trained position. The first inkling that she’d made a terrible error in judgment crept into Grainne’s head.

  For long seconds, she thought the armed men were going to shoot her. Shoot all of them. Even though it was broad daylight. Despite them all being in the center of town.

  As the soldiers waited, fingers tightening on their triggers, a news van pulled up. Three camera crewmen and a reporter tumbled out of the back door. After a moment of hesitation, each soldier lowered his gun. The presence of curious witnesses a clearer command than any barked order.

  Instead of being shot, the women were arrested instead.

  The soldier who grabbed Grainne’s arms roughly handcuffed them behind her back. He was so forceful that her shoulder screamed with the twisting motion, and she ducked down to ease the pain. She waited for the magic to heal the pain, as it had the day before. Instead, it grew worse. Ripping muscles and sharp nerve endings.

  Looking down at her midriff, her legs, her feet, Grainne realized that the glow of light had completely gone. The cuffs must contain immosium. The metal had shorted out the magic just like Kryptonite would render Superman powerless.

  An army captain barked some orders into a walkie-talkie and motioned at the soldiers holding us in place. Shackles were added around Grainne’s ankles. As though the act of turning herself in was enough to render her untrustworthy in the extreme.

  Three middle-aged ladies. Handcuffed. Shackled. Like serial killers awaiting a trial that would land them on death row.

  They hobbled across the square to a waiting prison van, encouraged by the jab of gun barrels in their tailbones. By the time they were seated in the back, their shackles chained onto rings that were welded to the van’s floor, Grainne’s suspicion she’d made an error had been upgraded. She’d made a stupid, perhaps deadly, mistake.

  Chapter Five

  Once upon a time, there was a stupid woman who made a foolish decision based on an ancient family pride. Although she regretted it immediately, there was no way to take it back. She ended her days, trapped in a concrete cage, with immosium disabling her only power.

  That was the lesson that Grainne had for the world. The pity of it was, there was no way for the world to learn it from her. Learning lessons only happened when you could escape your cage and broadcast its existence to the world.

  Mary had a lesson too. The only audience for it was Jane and Grainne. It had been painful to watch and horrifying to endure. As soon as it was over Grainne had tried to push it out of her mind. When that didn’t work, it wouldn’t go, she thrust it as deep down in her mind as she could possibly stuff it. Little parts of its disintegrating black soul kept creeping out, though. As she tried to fall asleep. As she sat in blank engagement with a card game. As she watched Jane’s slow-motion topple forward. As she looked with dull horror into the leaking brain stem of her last friend in the world.

  Mary had a little cat. The thought of a companion animal was so lovely that Grainne almost hated her for luck. The moggy was scrawny, probably a stray that had wandered into the house at the wrong time. Its gray fur was matted and tangled with burrs from weeds. After a few days, when the cat deigned to let Mary touch it, she carefully worked out all the knots until the animal was able to keep itself in better shape with just its tongue and spit.

  Grainne’s initial envy began to fade into concern when she saw into Mary’s kitchen. Though holding up written signs, she and Jane had already communication about their respective supplies. It seemed they’d been provisioned all the same.

  Mary wasn’t rationing though. Fat Jane had gotten the message, even if she sometimes slipped. Either the idea never occurred to Mary, or she just thought everything would work out okay. While Grainne hoped that their supplies would be topped up some time, she didn’t put trust in that hope. She rationed. Strictly. Forcing herself into mild starvation to postpone the far more vigorous option.

  From the kitchen bench, three weeks in, Grainne could see that Mary was running perilously short on food stocks. She didn't deny herself any meals, and she certainly wasn’t denying her little furry friend. That cat steadily ate its way through all of Mary’s protein. Each preserved can that should have granted her strength gave her pet the strength instead.

  Grainne still couldn’t comprehend how the army—or what she presumed was the army—could go through their three houses taking out every loose nail and every piece of metal but miss a shotgun and fail to notice a living bloody cat. But that’s men for you. At least, she presumed it was. She’d never had much in the way of their company herself.

  So the cat ate, and Mary ate, and one day they woke up to find no food was left. Jane and Grainne’s conversations dissolved down into wondering what the hell would happen next. Would the soldiers appear one night? Gassing them into unconsciousness again while they topped up their supplies. Would the concrete and immosium seal surrounding them be pulled apart, and the front doors opened as the women were set free?

  Even with all signs pointing in another direction, Grainne hoped the last option would be the one to win. The government would finally see that three ladies weren’t a problem and would extend a lifeline to them. Maybe come up with a true solution, that eradicated their magic so they could reintegrate into society. Offer them a future where the plane crash and the bolt of evil were just an unfortunate event that happened in their past.

  Hope is such a cruel thing. A stupid thing. Grainne had started to fear that she was a very stupid woman.

  After a day without food, the cat began to cry and howl. Not that Grainne could hear it, the CCTV feed doesn’t extend that far. She could see its pitiful mouth open though. Could see the way it threaded through Mary’s legs, head tipped back and eyes stretched wide open.

  Even the damn cat had hope.

  Two days and the pussy started to bang its head against Mary’s leg. It would rub its neck against her knee until she reached down to stroke it. The most affection the animal had allowed her in the time that Grainne was observing them.

  When the bribery of its affection didn’t work, the cat grew nasty instead. Claws always at the ready, it would arch its back. Hissing. Spitting. If Mary came within range, it would swipe its paw out. An attempt to try and hook into her leg. It behaved as though Mary were a giant mouse to play with. Something that it could torture to death.

  On the fourth day without food, even over the camera feed, Grainne could count the ribs beneath the cat's fur. In desperation, the pet made one last strike at feeding off Mary. It dug its claws into her leg and held on tight while she leaned her head back, mouth open wide in what must have been an excruciating yell.
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br />   Instead of the cat eating Mary, Mary ate the cat.

  Grainne knew that hunger. In her youth, after days of fasting, her stomach hadn’t felt empty. It moved like it was lined with teeth. It would gnash and gnaw, almost as though it were eating her from the inside out.

  Poor kitty didn’t yield a lot of food, just a few thin strips of meat. What she could filet off it, Mary fried up. She sobbed the entire time she ate it down, but she still managed to eat every last scrap.

  Then there really was no good.

  Three days later, Mary tripped when she was walking through to the kitchen. Possibly to fetch another glass of water to calm her shredding stomach. On the way down, her head caught the edge of the wooden coffee table at a nasty angle. Even over the flickering camera feed, Grainne could see the blood pour down her face.

  Head wounds bleed such a lot.

  Although Mary gave an occasional wriggle, she never really moved after that. Her body lay on the floor, dying. Thirst adding to the burden of starvation. Toward the end, her hand raised up into the air, beseeching.

  Nobody came. There was no knock at the door with a new delivery of supplies. No one broke through the barrier on a galloping white steed to rescue her.

  Grainne couldn’t tell exactly when Mary died. She doubted that the last time she saw her friend move was the moment of her last breath. Although her mantra was not to think of it, not to dwell on the memories, she still wondered what ran through Mary’s head as her body made its final choice. The choice to scale down its brain function in a last desperate bid to stay alive.

  The real pity is that since Jane killed herself, she hadn’t chosen to do the dreadful deed before then. The horrifying and slowly drawn out death was viewing fodder that Grainne wouldn’t wish on anybody.

  She wondered if Mary had been waiting for Jane with open arms, hoping to continue an esoteric discussion on the merits of Vonnegut.

  Chapter Six

  And then there was one.

  Grainne kept thinking that if she could hack into the camera feeds, surely other people would be doing so. She didn’t want to believe she was the only person in the world looking in shocked disbelief at this sorry mess.