Read Online Action Figures - Issue Two: Black Magic Women by Michael Bailey - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Bailey
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institutions throughout Rhode Island and Massachusetts.”
“You think Black Betty is looking for something that used to belong to Lovecraft?” I say.
Astrid taps her nose. “You got it. And not just any something.”
“If you say the Necronomicon, I swear I’m going to crap a brick in my pants,” Matt says.
Astrid smirks. “Then I won’t say it. This place is messy enough as it is.”
EIGHT
She’s teasing. Sort of.
Astrid thinks Black Betty might be looking for the book Lovecraft took as his inspiration for his (semi-) fictional Necronomicon: the
Libris Infernalis
— loosely, the Infernal Book, a collection of major-league dark magic.
“So dark, anyone who reads more than a few pages at a time risks going completely mad,” Astrid says. “Not such a big deal for Black Betty, considering she hasn’t been on speaking terms with sanity for years.”
“And she thinks it’s here in Kingsport?” I say. “In our public library?”
“That is a reasonable assumption.”
“Is it?”
“Doesn’t matter. Black Betty won’t stop until she finds the book, and she obviously has no qualms about making a mess in the process, so we have to stop her — but first, we have to put down Stacy Hellfire.”
“
Put down?
” I do not like the way she said that.
Astrid sighs heavily. “Once an imp has grafted itself onto a human soul, that’s it. I haven’t found a way to kill the parasite without killing the host,” she says, her gaze passing over her collection of books, “but that’s a mercy, honestly. The mortal form can’t handle playing host to a demonic parasite for long before it burns out. It’s not a pretty way to die.”
“Death by Dr. Enigma doesn’t sound all that pretty either,” Sara says, her voice cold and flat.
“I promise you, Sara, I’m not taking this lightly, but our options are limited, and the few options we have all suck. Whether we like them or not is irrelevant.” She straightens up and looks at each of us in turn. “This is the game you’re playing now, kids, and sometimes you have to do things that twist your guts into knots for the sake of the greater good...not that that’s always a consolation.”
I both love and hate this woman. She’s not talking down to us. She’s not withholding information. She’s not telling us to step back, let her handle this. She’s treating us like equals. She’s the anti-Concorde. And yet, despite her assurances to the contrary, she’s writing off a human life with appalling indifference.
“I understand if this is too much for you,” she says. “I can handle it myself, if that’s what you want. I’d rather have you there so we can watch each other’s backs, but I won’t fault you for —”
“No,” Matt says. “This is our problem too.”
“Right. Then I suggest we all get dressed for the occasion,” Astrid says, “because we have an ambush to set up.”
Due to the lousy economy, the town of Kingsport has had to scale back all over the place to make ends meet. Potholes have gone unfilled on some roads (such as mine, where there is a crater in front of the neighbor’s house large enough to swallow an SUV); teachers, cops, and firefighters have been canned; and the main branch of the Kingsport Public Library now closes at six at night instead of eight. While this sucks for the town’s active readers, it also means that if and when Stacy Hellfire shows up, the Hero Squad (plus one) can take her down with a minimum of collateral damage, and without any civilian injuries.
Maybe.
I know this is a dumb statement, but it’s really quiet in here. From my perch atop one of the high stacks, sitting next to Missy, I can make out Astrid’s feet crunching softly on the carpet as she paces around the circulation desk. Stuart is stationed in the periodicals section, Matt and Sara among the rows of waist-high shelves for reference books. For the occasion, Matt produced for himself a bandolier of flash-bang
“You think Black Betty is looking for something that used to belong to Lovecraft?” I say.
Astrid taps her nose. “You got it. And not just any something.”
“If you say the Necronomicon, I swear I’m going to crap a brick in my pants,” Matt says.
Astrid smirks. “Then I won’t say it. This place is messy enough as it is.”
EIGHT
She’s teasing. Sort of.
Astrid thinks Black Betty might be looking for the book Lovecraft took as his inspiration for his (semi-) fictional Necronomicon: the
Libris Infernalis
— loosely, the Infernal Book, a collection of major-league dark magic.
“So dark, anyone who reads more than a few pages at a time risks going completely mad,” Astrid says. “Not such a big deal for Black Betty, considering she hasn’t been on speaking terms with sanity for years.”
“And she thinks it’s here in Kingsport?” I say. “In our public library?”
“That is a reasonable assumption.”
“Is it?”
“Doesn’t matter. Black Betty won’t stop until she finds the book, and she obviously has no qualms about making a mess in the process, so we have to stop her — but first, we have to put down Stacy Hellfire.”
“
Put down?
” I do not like the way she said that.
Astrid sighs heavily. “Once an imp has grafted itself onto a human soul, that’s it. I haven’t found a way to kill the parasite without killing the host,” she says, her gaze passing over her collection of books, “but that’s a mercy, honestly. The mortal form can’t handle playing host to a demonic parasite for long before it burns out. It’s not a pretty way to die.”
“Death by Dr. Enigma doesn’t sound all that pretty either,” Sara says, her voice cold and flat.
“I promise you, Sara, I’m not taking this lightly, but our options are limited, and the few options we have all suck. Whether we like them or not is irrelevant.” She straightens up and looks at each of us in turn. “This is the game you’re playing now, kids, and sometimes you have to do things that twist your guts into knots for the sake of the greater good...not that that’s always a consolation.”
I both love and hate this woman. She’s not talking down to us. She’s not withholding information. She’s not telling us to step back, let her handle this. She’s treating us like equals. She’s the anti-Concorde. And yet, despite her assurances to the contrary, she’s writing off a human life with appalling indifference.
“I understand if this is too much for you,” she says. “I can handle it myself, if that’s what you want. I’d rather have you there so we can watch each other’s backs, but I won’t fault you for —”
“No,” Matt says. “This is our problem too.”
“Right. Then I suggest we all get dressed for the occasion,” Astrid says, “because we have an ambush to set up.”
Due to the lousy economy, the town of Kingsport has had to scale back all over the place to make ends meet. Potholes have gone unfilled on some roads (such as mine, where there is a crater in front of the neighbor’s house large enough to swallow an SUV); teachers, cops, and firefighters have been canned; and the main branch of the Kingsport Public Library now closes at six at night instead of eight. While this sucks for the town’s active readers, it also means that if and when Stacy Hellfire shows up, the Hero Squad (plus one) can take her down with a minimum of collateral damage, and without any civilian injuries.
Maybe.
I know this is a dumb statement, but it’s really quiet in here. From my perch atop one of the high stacks, sitting next to Missy, I can make out Astrid’s feet crunching softly on the carpet as she paces around the circulation desk. Stuart is stationed in the periodicals section, Matt and Sara among the rows of waist-high shelves for reference books. For the occasion, Matt produced for himself a bandolier of flash-bang
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