Tempest’s Fury

My table, unsurprisingly, was soon littered with empty packets of food strewn in front of me. Anyan had taken me to the Marks & Spencer food hall in the train station, and I’d gone a little crazy. They just had the most amazing looking sandwiches, and salads, and desserts. Not to mention all these fancy chips and sweets. I suppressed a contented burp and then leaned back in my comfortable seat, feeling almost relaxed—no small feat for someone who was on her way to confront her worst enemy and who’d managed to lose her most important weapon.



But at least we were on track as far as our mission was concerned. I was also warm, and fed, and while still worried about the labrys, I made myself feel better by touching on that place that told me it wasn’t missing, even if it wasn’t exactly here. I’d also been assured by Anyan that not only would I get to swim in Brighton, but that I’d get to swim in the ocean. That made me more than happy. Ponds and rivers were one thing, but nothing could compete with the ocean when it came to her awesome power.



So I munched, and dozed, and recharged my physical batteries, knowing I’d get to recharge my magical ones soon enough. The others did the same, although maybe with less munching.



Eventually, however, all the juice I drank caught up with me and I got up to go to the potty. I had to walk into the next train carriage, through these little doors that opened with a hush of air like those on Star Trek’s spaceships.



Ambling slowly, I enjoyed the view of the British countryside while waiting patiently for the person already occupying the toilet to finish.



I tried not to think about how gross the bathroom would probably be. While British trains were one hundred percent better than American trains, there was still enough rocking that I imagined boys would have difficulties.



So I concentrated on the music coming from my old iPod to distract myself, leaning over the empty seat next to me to get a better view. Then I heard a flush and the sound of a lock turning, and I straightened up just as the bathroom door opened.



Only to find myself staring into the cruelly beautiful eyes of Graeme, the rapist incubus.



He clearly was no more expecting me than I was him, and we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. His once perfect features were strangely waxen, courtesy of his having been horribly burnt by Conleth, the ifrit-halfling. But other than that he looked the same as the last time I saw him, and very much alive. I’d really been hoping he hadn’t made it out of the tunnel collapse that Phaedra had described before she, herself, bit the big one.



I stowed my iPod and headphones in my pocket, taking a careful step back as Graeme finally registered my presence with a slow smile and a wave of his juju. Both were as dark and sadistic as I remembered them.



“Jane,” he said, taking a step towards me.



“Graeme,” I acknowledged, taking another step back.



“It’s always a pleasure to see you,” he said, increasing the roll of his pain-drenched magics against my shields.



“I’m afraid I can’t say likewise,” I murmured, pushing back with my own power. I wasn’t the same Jane he was used to beating up, and the sooner I let him know that, the better.



That said, I had to think carefully. There was a whole train carriage full of people sitting around me. They hadn’t noticed anything too out of sorts as of yet, but they would if Graeme and I started throwing magic at each other.



“Why don’t we take our conversation over there,” I said, nodding towards another set of doors that led into the roomy little compartment between carriages where people could stash luggage and wait to disembark the train.



“Trying to get me alone, Jane?” Graeme asked, licking his lips in a way that made me shudder.



“Actually, yes,” I replied, sidling past him and pressing the little button that let me open the door.



When it was shut behind Graeme, I turned to him. I didn’t actually know what the fuck I was planning to do. I just wanted him away from all the vulnerable humans. I’d found out that at least two innocent bystanders had died at Borough Market, with two more still in hospital with severe injuries. There wasn’t going to be a repeat of that around me again, if I could help it.



So I lured the enemy away from the civilans, and then realized I had no idea what to do. Naturally enough for me under such circumstances, I started babbling.



“On your way to see Morrigan?” I asked. “Is she your boss, now that Phaedra’s dead?”



Graeme’s mojo tightened around my shields, but they weren’t getting past. Nor was he stupid enough to do that mind trick he liked to play, not after I’d nearly broken his little brain the last time he tried it on me.



“Is Phaedra definitely dead, then?” he asked.



“Yes,” I said. “Oh, yes.” I’d seen the little Alfar who’d been Graeme’s superior speared by one of the creature’s tentacles. It wasn’t a sight I was apt to forget anytime soon.



Unsurprisingly, Graeme wasn’t too fazed. All he did was shrug.



“I figured as much,” he said.



“So now you’re working for Morrigan, I take it? Oh, wait, you were always working for her, weren’t you? We liked to think you were Jarl’s, but it was Jarl and Morrigan together all along, wasn’t it?”



Still Graeme said nothing, although the mojo brushing against my shields was getting increasingly ugly.



“My real question is,” I began, suddenly wishing I had the ax, “who’s really in charge, amongst those two? In other words, Graeme, are you Jarl’s bitch, or are you Morrigan’s?”



Graeme’s lips twitched, and he lunged for me, using a combination of power and brute physical force. But my own shields were strong, and even though I wasn’t as charged up as I wanted to be, I still had more than enough power in my reservoirs.



Holding the incubus back with my mojo, I looked him in the face as I asked him again what I wanted to know. I figured I only had a few seconds till my cronies felt all the power being bandied about and came to investigate.



“C’mon, tell me,” I repeated. “Are you Jarl’s or are you Morrigan’s? Who really wears the pants in that fucked-up family?”



Graeme snarled again, his waxen face horrible in the canned light of the railway car, and he really poured on the juice. He was trying to force his way through my shields, and although they were staying strong I wouldn’t be able to hold them indefinitely. I also didn’t know why my friends hadn’t already come.



My eyes flicked to the little door and Graeme grinned.



“They’re not coming, you little halfling cunt. I’ve shielded this whole compartment. They think you’re safe. But you’re mine, you little whore.”



I really want my ax, I thought, starting to panic. I was doing everything I could to hold Graeme, but just like I knew his tricks, he knew mine. He wasn’t letting me reach out to the water around him to trap him, as I had before, nor was he letting me find a gap anywhere in his own shields through which I could force them open.



What kind of champion am I? I realized, fear arcing up my spine. I can’t even beat Graeme, and I’ve lost the fucking labrys…



[Just call for it, my child,] came a sleepy voice in my head.



Creature? Is that you? I asked, almost crying with relief. It could help me.



[Am I Creature, now?] it chuckled, although the sound was dreamy. [Your fear woke me. You needn’t be afraid. Your weapon is merely waiting for you. Just call for it. It wants to be with you.]



Call for it? I thought. How the hell do I call for it?



But I could feel the creature was gone, already back to snoozing.



Putting another flood of power into my shields and managing to push Graeme back a few inches, I ignored the rage and need to hurt me written all over his face and called to my ax.



Um, Ax? Are ya there? I could use you right about now.



Nothing. So I tried again.



Oh, Aaaa-axxxxxx. Are you there?



Still nothing. And with every second that ticked by Graeme was gaining the ground he’d lost. My power was draining fast and although I could pull a little bit from the air, the dry, air-conditioned environment of the train wasn’t helping me out much.



With a brutal shove, Graeme inched forward even more, till we were practically nose-to-nose, separated only by our impenetrable shields. Problem was, I didn’t know how much longer mine would remain impenetrable.



The incubus shoved again with his dark force and I felt a weak spot, right in the center of my protections. I moved more power inward to reinforce that weak spot, but Graeme took advantage of that shift and began eating away at the edges of my shields.



I swore, starting to panic, and with a thudding heart I really, really, really wanted my labrys. I felt a tingle, when I did so, so I urged my wild emotions on, letting myself really need my ax. At the same time, I pictured myself holding it.



The problem with our magic, however, was that it took a lot of control—control that powerful emotions or a lack of concentration made difficult. I’d learned to do quite well with manipulating emotions and power at the same time, but even I couldn’t compensate for a total lack of concentration.



Feeling my shields buckle, then collapse, terror chased through me as Graeme’s hand closed on my left arm, yanking me forward.

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