Read Online Action Figures - Issue Two: Black Magic Women by Michael Bailey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Bailey
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grenades, handy devices that stun and disorient targets with (as the name suggests) a blinding flash and a deafening bang. I can hear him fiddling with the pins, making them jingle like an off-key windchime. There is a palpable calm-before-the-storm vibe in the air.
None of us speak — not because we’re trying to maintain a low profile (which we are), but because we’re numb over what we’re here to do; we came here knowing someone could die, and we’d be the ones pulling the proverbial trigger. I know super-heroes, like cops, sometimes kill people in the line of duty, when there’s no other option, but it’s sobering to be part of that equation for the first time. Calling it a mercy killing does nothing to ease the weight pressing down on us.
“Carrie?” Missy says in a tiny whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Is Astrid really going to kill Stacy?”
I sigh. “Looks like,” I say, taking little comfort in the fact we won’t be the ones pulling the proverbial trigger. Sure, because simply aiding and abetting an allegedly justifiable homicide, that’s no big whoop.
Missy’s ninja hood completely covers her face, except for her eyes, and they tell the story of what’s going on in her head. “I hate this.”
“I hate it too, Muppet,” I say, “but I honestly don’t know what else to do. This is so far above our heads — demons and possession and magic books...”
“I know. Still hate it.” She pulls her hood up so she can pout at me unimpeded. “We’re never going to do something like this ourselves, right? We’re never going to kill someone because we can’t figure anything else out, right?”
This girl’s going to make me cry. “I promise,” I say, wrapping arm around her. “We’ll always find a way.”
God, please don’t make a liar out of me.
Astrid snaps her fingers. It sounds like a gunshot.
“We have incoming,” she says, and without a gesture or a magic word of any kind, she melts into the shadows, becoming virtually invisible. Neat trick.
We get ready. Matt crouches down behind the shelves and slips a grenade out of his bandolier. Stuart ducks down where he is; he is, grudgingly, on emergency back-up duty (the last thing he needs is to add to his collection of second-degree burns). Missy and I lay flat atop the stacks. She’s on-call to run interference, and me, I’m there to blast the bejesus out of Stacy.
Technically, the Hero Squad is Plan B. Plan A is for Astrid to bind Stacy Hellfire physically, then expel the demon — in the process, also expelling the human soul to which it has attached itself.
She swears it will be painless. We have no choice but to take her at her word.
Before we engaged in our little breaking-and-entering, Astrid set up something she called a ward, a kind of magical tripwire, to alert her when anything remotely magical in nature crossed the perimeter. The ward extends a mile out in every direction, so we have a few minutes to sit, sweat, and wonder how we’re going to live with ourselves if Astrid’s plan succeeds.
We wait.
The library echoes with a bizarre
FWAM
noise — Stacy Hellfire incinerating the lock — followed by the squeak of hinges, then the clop of her boots on the stairs leading up from the foyer.
Like it or not, it’s go time.
I can’t say who got the drop on whom, but the library goes from zero to crazy in a heartbeat. Streaks of light crisscross the foyer. Hellfire misses Astrid, barely, and strikes the shelves behind her, igniting the books. A bolt of energy flies from Astrid’s hand, hitting the corner of the circulation desk and splashing across its surface like liquid light.
Stacy goes to town. Astrid throws up a shield, a glowing disc twice her height, and backs away under the assault. With that exchange, we leave Astrid’s field of expertise and shift into ours; the admitted non-super-hero knew she’d be no good if things turned into a stand-up fight, so now it’s up to us to give Astrid a fresh opening.
“Fire in
None of us speak — not because we’re trying to maintain a low profile (which we are), but because we’re numb over what we’re here to do; we came here knowing someone could die, and we’d be the ones pulling the proverbial trigger. I know super-heroes, like cops, sometimes kill people in the line of duty, when there’s no other option, but it’s sobering to be part of that equation for the first time. Calling it a mercy killing does nothing to ease the weight pressing down on us.
“Carrie?” Missy says in a tiny whisper.
“Yeah?”
“Is Astrid really going to kill Stacy?”
I sigh. “Looks like,” I say, taking little comfort in the fact we won’t be the ones pulling the proverbial trigger. Sure, because simply aiding and abetting an allegedly justifiable homicide, that’s no big whoop.
Missy’s ninja hood completely covers her face, except for her eyes, and they tell the story of what’s going on in her head. “I hate this.”
“I hate it too, Muppet,” I say, “but I honestly don’t know what else to do. This is so far above our heads — demons and possession and magic books...”
“I know. Still hate it.” She pulls her hood up so she can pout at me unimpeded. “We’re never going to do something like this ourselves, right? We’re never going to kill someone because we can’t figure anything else out, right?”
This girl’s going to make me cry. “I promise,” I say, wrapping arm around her. “We’ll always find a way.”
God, please don’t make a liar out of me.
Astrid snaps her fingers. It sounds like a gunshot.
“We have incoming,” she says, and without a gesture or a magic word of any kind, she melts into the shadows, becoming virtually invisible. Neat trick.
We get ready. Matt crouches down behind the shelves and slips a grenade out of his bandolier. Stuart ducks down where he is; he is, grudgingly, on emergency back-up duty (the last thing he needs is to add to his collection of second-degree burns). Missy and I lay flat atop the stacks. She’s on-call to run interference, and me, I’m there to blast the bejesus out of Stacy.
Technically, the Hero Squad is Plan B. Plan A is for Astrid to bind Stacy Hellfire physically, then expel the demon — in the process, also expelling the human soul to which it has attached itself.
She swears it will be painless. We have no choice but to take her at her word.
Before we engaged in our little breaking-and-entering, Astrid set up something she called a ward, a kind of magical tripwire, to alert her when anything remotely magical in nature crossed the perimeter. The ward extends a mile out in every direction, so we have a few minutes to sit, sweat, and wonder how we’re going to live with ourselves if Astrid’s plan succeeds.
We wait.
The library echoes with a bizarre
FWAM
noise — Stacy Hellfire incinerating the lock — followed by the squeak of hinges, then the clop of her boots on the stairs leading up from the foyer.
Like it or not, it’s go time.
I can’t say who got the drop on whom, but the library goes from zero to crazy in a heartbeat. Streaks of light crisscross the foyer. Hellfire misses Astrid, barely, and strikes the shelves behind her, igniting the books. A bolt of energy flies from Astrid’s hand, hitting the corner of the circulation desk and splashing across its surface like liquid light.
Stacy goes to town. Astrid throws up a shield, a glowing disc twice her height, and backs away under the assault. With that exchange, we leave Astrid’s field of expertise and shift into ours; the admitted non-super-hero knew she’d be no good if things turned into a stand-up fight, so now it’s up to us to give Astrid a fresh opening.
“Fire in
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