The Witch with No Name

But the reporter had gotten Landon to stop, and the crowd quieted enough to hear her say, “Sa’han Landon, Sa’han Landon, can you comment on the sudden disappearance of the undead souls with the rising sun? Have the elves agreed on a course of action to bring them back?”

Her voice was echoing between the buildings, and the sound of the crowd diminished even more, punctuated by the occasional shout.

“Rache?”

I dropped my head, trying to hear Trent. “I can’t leave without Ivy. Trent, I’m looking at Landon on TV. He’s going to make a statement.”

“Damn it, Rachel, get out of there!” he shouted. “It’s about to get ugly!”

I tugged at my mom with my free hand, but no one was moving anymore, all eyes fixed on the screen as Landon raised his hands at the mics shoved at him. Behind him, people were leaving the arena with the quickness of rats fleeing a foundering ship. “Wait, I want to hear this,” my mom said.

“It has been determined that the sudden absence of souls this morning was caused by the demons, not a failure in our original spell,” Landon said, his benign young smile both practiced and convincing.

“You liar!” I shouted up at the screen. “It was your lame-ass spell that failed!”

People turned to me, and I scowled as Jenks’s dust suddenly wreathed me.

“Rachel?” came Trent’s voice, tiny from the phone in my hand. “Listen. To. Me. Get out of there! For God’s sake, get out now!”

Jenks landed on my shoulder, his wings cold against me. “Ivy’s coming. Don’t move.”

But moving was the last thing on my mind as Landon spoke. “We’ve decided on a course of action, one that not only will bring the souls of the undead back and lock them to this reality, but one that will also facilitate a smoother reunion with their original bodies and rid us of the demons now among us.”

“You son of a bastard,” I whispered. I stared up at the screen, almost oblivious to the new space around me and that the nearest people were whispering. “He’s lying!” I shouted, and from the stage I could hear more voices raised in anger. “The demons didn’t do it! It’s the dewar elves with their sloppy spell casting. They’re trying to kill the undead!”

“Ah, Rache?” Jenks said from my shoulder, too cold to fly well, but I stood there and fumed. Had they forgotten the chaos of when the masters were sleeping just three months ago? Their fear of the night?

“I would implore everyone,” Landon was saying, “especially the living vampires, to find it in themselves to not take their anger out on the demons. We will resolve the issue in due course in a safe and efficient manner.”

My jaw clenched. “You’re saying that because it’s only demon magic that can fix the souls permanently, and you need them! You want the vampires dead!”

“Rache!” Jenks shouted, and I jumped when he pinched my ear. Blinking, I saw the new eight feet of space between me and everyone else. My mom stood at my shoulder, and I could hear Ivy fighting her way to get to me. My phone dangled in my hand, and Trent’s voice desperately shouted at me to leave, to get out.

I didn’t think it was going to be that easy anymore.

“You see the lies!” the zealot on the stage shouted, and I spun to see he had the stage all to himself. “She is a demon!”

Oh God, he was pointing at me. Sure, I could do some magic and blast everyone, but that’d only get me in jail, if I was lucky. “Ah, Trent. I gotta go,” I muttered, then closed the phone in the middle of his outcry.

Shaking, I tucked the phone away. The ring of people stared at me, more joining them every second. My mother took my elbow protectively. “Let’s go,” she said, but no one moved to let us through. Instead, they inched closer, expressions determined.

“Stop them! Make them answer to us!” the man on the stage shouted, and I gasped as hands reached out.

Instinct kicked in. I pulled heavily on the line. Someone cried out a warning, and I sent it through them, the power of the line arching from one to the other.

“Rachel!” Jenks shouted as it had no effect and I went down under a wash of arms and hands. There were too many of them, and my strength was diluted. Hands grasped and tugged, and I couldn’t breathe. Someone pulled my hair, and I hit the pavement. I couldn’t set a circle—there were too many bodies crossing the line and it couldn’t form.

“No!” I shrieked as a hand clamped over my wrist, and then I cowered as I felt the snap of lavender strike through me as if in protection.

“Corrumpo!” my mother shouted, and I cowered again as a wave of energy pulsed forward, ripping the grasping hands away so the sun could beat down on me again.

Stunned, I looked at the one hand still on me. “Mom?” I questioned, and she yanked me up as if I was still fourteen and couldn’t walk a block without panting. “Where did you learn that?”

“Get your hands off my daughter!” she shouted, her color high and her hair wild.

Jenks dropped down, and my mom let go of my wrist. “Jeez, Rache. Your mom kicks ass.”