“And you know this how?”
Jonas snorted. “You know, Arim, to you Lexa is a Dark Lord. To me, she’s my Dark Mistress, a woman worthy of respect, affection, and a healthy dose of fear. Hell, I’m Djinn. I’m not stupid. She can kill with the touch of her hand, so I like to keep on her good side. But apart from all that, she’s still a woman. I know what she needs.”
Irrational rage filled me. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do. She likes to talk, and I like to listen.” Jonas shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Here in this plane, Lexa blends in. She can be like everyone else. Accepted. Not like the pariah she is at home.”
“Home, is it?”
Jonas scowled, finally showing the same irritation I had been feeling all day. “She was right. You are a condescending dick.” I glared, and Jonas sighed. “Tanselm is now my home, Arim. Just as it’s home to dozens of other Darklings and Shadow Dwellers. Face it, Tanselm needs both Light and Dark to thrive. Though you don’t want to admit it, you know Lexa’s right. Your magic felt stronger when she was there, didn’t it?”
Damn, but it did. Not that I planned on giving Jonas the satisfaction of being right. I wasn’t prejudiced against the Dark, not anymore. But thoughts of Lexa riled me, to the extent that I started grouping everyone not Light under the flat of my irritation. Jonas didn’t help matters by beating the topic to death.
I pinched the bridge of my nose as the Djinn continued, repeating what one of my nephews liked to blather on about.
“You like to think Tanselm belongs to the Light Bringers. To creatures of Light. But the Dark belongs in Tanselm’s fields, villages, and mountains, too. If you’d listen to the land, you’d hear it.”
“Enough. Now you sound like Aerolus, always analyzing, dissecting Tanselm’s magic. In case I haven’t mentioned it before, the trait’s extremely annoying.”
“Say what you will. We both know I’m right.” In a lower voice, Jonas added, “As usual.”
“I see why Cadmus volunteered your services. You’re beyond irritating.”
Jonas chuckled and punched me in the arm. “That’s just what your nephew says about you. Now why don’t we try the food court. I know Lexa likes the cinnamon bun place.”
“We’re not here to fill your bottomless stomach.”
“Arim, you wound me. I just thought Lexa might be feeding her sweet tooth. She loves cinnamon and chocolates and —”
I shoved him out the way of attack with one hand while throwing up a shield of Light with the other. People screamed and ducked for cover as a mass of wraiths, members of Sin Garu’s hated Netharat, suddenly swarmed above us, appearing out of nowhere.
Nearby, a witch tucked a group of children under an obfuscate spell, while a few Lycans rushed over the railing onto the second floor to attack a new group of Netharat near a water fountain below.
This shouldn’t be happening. Not here. I called on Tanselm’s magic within me, immediately decimating two nearby wraiths by turning them to stone. Then I crushed them with my will into dust.
The others shrieked, their howls like the scratchy echoes of a newborn’s cry. Covered in rags, their bodies seemingly frail with nearly insubstantial shades of skeletal mass and thin, ropy sinew, the creatures fed on fear.
And on the living tissue of those they killed.
Their lumpy heads, covered in a sickly yellow skin mottled with bruises, looked monstrous. They had high-set pointed ears, large, white eyes, and gaping mouths filled with rows of black, blade-sharp teeth. With no nose to speak of, they couldn’t smell the constant stench of death they emitted wherever they went.
One wraith grabbed a small child, gnashing its teeth in hunger, and Jonas quickly reached out with a band of Dark magic and yanked the boy from its taloned grasp, sending him into my arms. When the wraith would have attacked me, I shot a bolt of Light into its face, killing it instantly, and tucked the child’s face into my chest.
I killed a few more while a mage and witch worked together to melt, for lack of a better term, several Netherat.
Jonas dragged another two wraiths from the air, protecting the cowering humans watching with wide eyes. He slammed one creature through the floor, leaving only its head above ground, its body meshed with the steel girders, cement, and supports holding up the second level of the mall.
He lashed another beam of Dark at the wraith and decapitated it while a nearby mage chanted a spell I recognized as fae in nature. A memory taker.
“Go, wizard. We’ll handle things here,” he said to me. “They won’t remember any of this.”
Apparently, the magir in this world wanted to remain in hiding.
Not my problem, since I would soon return to Tanselm. But I couldn’t help thinking that Earth needed more magic. Even the promise of a Light and Dark battle was better than nothing at all.
I took care of the remaining Netharat, sent out a probe to detect none living below us — defeated by the lycans — and teleported what was left of all their remains into the Between. The scavengers passing through the voids would clear the mess in no time.
“Oh, thank God.” A frantic woman with tears in her eyes rushed to me and yanked her son into her arms. She hugged him so tightly he squawked in protest. “What did I tell you about playing near the railing? You could have fallen over, Matthew! Thanks so much for saving him.”
