Infernal Bonds (18 page)

My phone vibrated in my pocket; I contemplated ignoring it, but it vibrated again. Quin and Elise had both texted me, and it was quickly followed up by Kadrix. All of them demanding that I return Lysander, as he was required.
 

I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and said, "You've been summoned. Return to Elise; behave yourself."

His mouth tugged downwards. His hand went to touch my hair, but he stopped himself.
 

With a soft sigh, he said, "As you wish."

His footsteps echoed around us on the cobblestones. I pushed the dark thoughts from my mind and wound my way down into the city proper. I wasn't going to sit around and wait for someone to hand me the key, it wasn't in my nature.
 

More apparitions, ghosts, whatever they were, appeared as I made my way down the old road into Malá Strana. The streets were remarkably quiet, there were usually at least a few eager tourists and commuters in the area at that time of morning. Nothing stirred, nothing human at least. The shadows swelled and rippled, no doubt waiting for some poor fool to step into them. I tilted my head and watched for a minute as they spread outwards across the pale grey stones before they stopped and retreated, slowly moving, testing. I wasn't sure what held them back, but the desire to poke them and see what happened was particularly strong. The people were vanishing to somewhere, after all. The rasping giggling returned as more apparitions skipped down the middle of the road, causing a car to swerve and almost crash into a trdelník stall. The driver spat and cursed before he took off down the road with a screech of tyres.
 

I wandered down over the Charles Bridge, hoping that something would come to mind, somewhere I could go to make myself useful. The river had returned to its usual colour, and the sky remained cloudless. The witches were taking a different tack that day. Clustered screams cut through my thoughts. I ran in the direction of it before I gave myself a chance to question the sanity of such a move. A group of young people in smart work clothes were huddled against the tall stone wall as a large shadowy hound snarled and stalked up to them. I put myself between the group and the hound. Its black lips were pulled back to reveal long red teeth; its red eyes glowed from the pitch black pelt. It shifted its weight back onto its hind legs, its muscles coiled, then it was gone.
 

The people whispered to each other, disbelief threaded its way through their tone and words. I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly comforting way and told them to be on their way, but to avoid the shadows. It seemed that the witches were playing on people's minds, making them doubt what they saw.
 

I wasn't in the mood to try and reach the neophyte coven again. My joints still ached a little from the wraith attack. After a moment, I remembered that a hedge-witch was close by with an herb and spice shop; hedge-witches were a separate entity to the main covens, but it was better than nothing. I was tired of being left in the dark and unable to do something productive. With a goal in mind, I strode down the old roads, past the beer restaurant, down another of the older narrow roads. The hedge-witch shop soon came into view; something in the back of my mind told me that the witch lived on the premises. I hoped so as I started banging on the front door.
 

After a few good bangs the door slid open a few inches. My hand hurt, and I glared at the face that hid in the darkness.
 

"You're a witch, yes?"

Manners weren't something I had time or patience for, and I couldn't remember their name. Grey eyes narrowed at me, the thin line of the mouth narrowed. After a silent stand-off, the door opened revealing an older woman with greying hair and a deep scowl on her face. She ushered me inside, looking around before she locked the door behind us.
 

"You're here about the shadows. I have no information for you."

I put my shoulders back and held her gaze. She refused to look away.
 

"I am a hedge-witch. I walked away from the crone. This is not my doing."
 

Her accent became thicker as she became more agitated.
 

"You're a magic user, surely you know something?"

Her lips pursed and she gave a small nod. "There are rumours, of a hound and a hellmouth."

I took a step closer to her; she flinched but didn't move away. "What is it you want?"

"I am leaving city. I will give you help, powders, in return for safe passage."

"I have an alchemist, I can get powders."

She paled a little. "The shadows, they can be defeated with gold powder. If you defeat the shadows, you take some of their power. They steal the people and use their life."

"Gold powder...?"

She pushed past me and squeezed past the over-flowing wooden dresser, with the peeling pale blue paint. Her hands flew over brightly coloured bottles and tugged on a small lever hidden behind a delicate crystal vase. The shelf pulled away from the wall, revealing a hidden store of darker bottles and containers. She pulled out a small slate box with some reverence.
 

"I apply this to your blades, you help me escape. Deal?"

"How do I know it'll work?"

Her nostrils flared. "I need to leave now. I will go without you."

I eyed the slate box. "Fine. Apply the powder."

The witch worked remarkably quickly. She mumbled something about her cards having shown her that I'd turn up. I'd never appreciated the idea of witches being able to see the future. She thrust a leather satchel into my hands and returned my blades to me, covered in the gold dust that would destroy the shadows and anything infernal. Or so I'd been told. Apparently it only lasted twenty-four hours, though, which was very convenient, but I wasn't really in a place to argue. The satchel was full of little orbs in a myriad of colours; she had explained what each one did, but she'd gone over it so quickly that I missed half of it. I knew they were all offensive and would do damage to anything the witches might throw at us. That was all I really needed.
 

With the satchel secured, she pushed me out the front door with a carpet bag. Her long grey cardigan sat over her knee length skirt with flat black knee-high boots; I had to wonder if stereotype was what she was aiming for. She scurried off down the road, her head swivelling around looking at everything. I jogged to catch up with her; she was spry for a seemingly little old lady. Her long bony fingers clutched onto her carpet bag as though her life depended on it, and I had little doubt that it did. I slipped my hand into the satchel and rolled one of the orbs around between my fingers. It buzzed at my touch and warmed. I pulled my hand back for fear of the entire bag exploding.
 

She frowned at me before she took a sharp right turn. "There is boat waiting for me."

I didn't think anyone travelled down the river in the modern age, but I had to admit it seemed a quick and easy route out of the city.
 

A shadow lurched forward from the base of a building, tendrils reaching out to wrap around the woman's ankles. I drew my blades and slashed at the darkened air. It felt wrong, as though I were shadow boxing, but the shadow let out a warbling moan and pulled back. A thrill ran through me. It was working. I pushed forwards, slashing and plunging the blades into the shadow. It groaned and shrank away from me before we were left with nothing but a sliver of darkness at the very base of the large stone. The woman mumbled something and walked past me without further acknowledgement. I ignored her and embraced the feeling of happiness; I was beginning to see why magic fascinated Quin so much.
 

Apparitions formed all around us. The witch barely even acknowledged them. A simple wave of the hand was all it took; she shook her head and mumbled again. I was beginning to wish that she spoke up or not at all. The satchel rattled as it bumped against my hip. She hadn't told me how volatile the orbs were, or if she had, I hadn't understood it. I hoped that they were reasonably sturdy as I broke into a jog once more. The river was just coming into view when a pack of the shadow hounds came out from the crossroads ahead of us. Their heavily muscled forms were the same size as a Shetland pony, their fur (for lack of a better term for the oil-slick substance covering them) entirely devoid of light. The witch stopped dead in her tracks. She began to slowly walk backwards. I put myself between her and them. The one directly in front of me rippled as it lowered its hind quarters, ready to pounce. I thrust my hand into the satchel and pulled out the first orb that my fingers wrapped around. I threw it at the hounds and hoped.
 

The small blue ball, the size of a large sprout, sailed through the air. I feared that it was going to do nothing, or that I needed to shout some magic words, before it exploded outwards and emitted a high-pitched scream that deafened me. The hounds howled and bayed, one clawed at its ears while others threw themselves to the ground. I took the chance and threw one of my throwing knives at the leader. It sank deep into the chest and clattered to the ground when the hound disintegrated around it. Its fellows snarled and looked at me as one. The witch was chanting something behind me; I grabbed another orb and hoped that it would be as useful as its friend. The smaller red ball dropped to the ground a few feet in front of me and rolled towards the hounds of its own volition. The hound to the left edge ignored it and ran at me, its thick black lips pulled back revealing deep red fangs. I threw a throwing knife between the closest’s eyes and wondered what the fuck the orb was doing. A cloud of noxious green gas billowed from it, causing the remaining hounds to cough and choke before the one approaching me snapped at my leg.
 

I slashed at the back of its neck with my dagger; it dodged away from me and went to attack the witch. I kicked it hard in its surprisingly solid ribs, bringing its attention back to me. Its friends were remembering how to breathe again; one of them exploded, sending its packmates flying. The witch smiled. I slashed at the beast trying to savage my legs. After three attempts, my blade connected and severed what would have been its spine on a normal dog. The remaining three hounds were standing and shaking off the effects of the orb. I threw a knife at one of them. It landed directly between its eyes, causing it to fade into nothingness while the two remaining hounds charged at me.
 

I braced for impact. They were approaching too quickly to risk using an orb. They approached me as a pair. One launched himself at my chest, but the other changed course at the very last second and shot around me. I shifted my weight to the side, allowing me to side-step and slash the hound's stomach, but the witch cried out. I turned, took a couple of long strides and plunged my dagger deep into the hound's back. It screamed and snarled. I stabbed it again in its chest. A searing pain cut through my hip. I glanced down to see the other hound's teeth sunk deep into my hip. I finished the original hound and kicked at the one attached to me. The pain blurred the edge of my vision; I felt as though my entire body were on fire.
 

There was no time for careful planning. I rushed at the hound and swiped at it. I caught its cheek, enough to make it stay still. My left hand came down and sank my blade down into its skull, and it vanished. They were gone. I looked back at the witch to see her smoothing out her skirt.
 

She sniffed and said, "Here. Bite down on this."
 

She handed me a small green ball with the texture of putty. "It will heal, before you burn."

The pain of the fire was already starting to fade, but I couldn't afford to be injured out in the city by myself. The putty texture was awful in my mouth, but I dutifully bit down. The taste of rose and pepper filled my mouth; a cooling sensation flooded my body. All the aches and pains I'd been experiencing evaporated. I felt better than I'd done in days. Kadrix needed to work on his damn ointments.
 

The witch had strolled down to the river while the healing putty did its thing. She gave me a cursory wave before she got on the small boat that was tied up to the jetty, apparently waiting for her. A feeling of satisfaction swelled within me; I'd done something of use, and I had a way to take some power from the witches.
 

I hadn't received word from Quin or the others, not that I was happy about waiting around for them to give me further instructions, so I called Matyas and his friends. We stood near the river where Viktor muttered to himself while I handed a handful of orbs to Dimitri and Matyas.
 

"We have been given an opportunity to help his city. I do not know what these orbs do, exactly, but they will harm the witches' beasts. We are going to take this city back, and weaken the witches in the process," I said in what I hoped was a confident, rousing tone.

Dimitri rolled the orbs around the palm of his hand, watching the colours swirl within each of them. After a moment of contemplation, he delicately put them in his jacket pocket. Matyas, however, had shoved them in the pouch on his belt without consideration.
 

"Where do we start?" Matyas asked.
 

"You're with me, we're going to clear out Smíchov. Viktor and Dimitri, you start with Malá Strana and work your way to Vinohrady."

"That's a big area," Viktor said gruffly.
 

I smiled sweetly and said, “Best get moving then, hadn't you?"

Matyas and I set off at a light jog to the closest tram stop. We were going to destroy every witch-born creature, apparition, and shadow-thing that we could find. The witch had said that would remove some of their power; hopefully it'd hold back the hound's plans and give us a chance.
 

The tram was almost empty. People were still cowering in their homes, and I couldn't blame them. I glanced at Matyas and realised that I missed Lysander's presence. The bond must have been settling and edging past my misgiving of his species. I wondered if Elise could fix that for me. We jumped off the tram at Bertramka, which stood in contrast to the previous stop of
Anděl
. The old buildings looked well-worn and ready to eject their occupants. Faded mustard-yellow paint covered the patchy plasterwork of the upper half of one building; the deep-red window frame surrounded a grimy cracked window. The classic lines that filled the city were etched into the buildings, although far simpler in their designs. The road away from the main was steep, with the pavement cracking in places. A potraviny peeked out from under ornate faux stonework and brightly coloured plaster. The further we walked from the main road, the further into disrepair the buildings fell. The colours of the plaster became more muted as they hid beneath thicker layers of dirt and pollution. Exposed brickwork sat next to pock-marked and crumbling facades, all surrounding cracked and peeling window frames. The area was a world apart from Vinohrady where I called home; it wasn't somewhere many people felt comfortable after dark. We paused at the crossroads and quickly came face to face with our first foe.