Read Online Action Figures - Issue Two: Black Magic Women by Michael Bailey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Bailey
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the hole!” Matt shouts. Missy and I cover our ears and close our eyes. The flash-bang goes off with a high-pitched boom.
I open my eyes. Stacy is firing blind, literally. An overhead light fixture explodes. Windows shatter. Carpeting disintegrates into ash.
Stuart takes the opening, charging Stacy like a linebacker. By Stuart standards it’s a gentle shove, but it’s more than enough to send her flying. Stacy slams into the short stacks near Matt and Sara, folding in half over the unforgiving steel shelving, but she bounces back like a rubber ball, then swings around to find Stuart.
Sara!
I say.
Hit her!
Sara jumps to her feet, tags Stacy from behind with a telekinetic punch. Stacy goes sprawling again, into the center of the floor. She’s an open target, so I let her have it. We each throw off a wild shot. Hers misses. Mine connects, punching her in the chest, and driving her into the circulation desk. Her next attack goes low. The stacks rock beneath my feet, books going up like they were doused in gasoline. Missy and I jump clear. I go up, nearly smacking into the ceiling. She goes down, landing on her feet, but with more force than she expected; she flattens like a pancake.
The others emerge from hiding, cautiously; Stacy lies slumped against the circulation desk, perfectly still, her hands extinguished, but I definitely do not trust her to be down for the count.
“Ow,” Missy says, pushing up to her hands and knees.
“You okay, Muppet?” Matt calls out.
“I think so.”
Astrid gestures. All the fires flutter, then wink out of existence, leaving behind a disgusting ash that reeks of sulfur. “Missy, back away from —”
Whatever else she says is drowned out by Missy’s startled shriek as Stacy grabs for our ninja, seizing her face.
Astrid reaches them first. She grasps Stacy by the head, like she’s going to whip out the catfight rulebook and pull Stacy off by her hair. The air crackles. Astrid releases a charge of magical energy. I can feel it from here, an all-over prickling sensation, like I’ve been covered in fire ants. Someone screams. The prickling turns hot and painful, a sensation akin to a powerful electrical shock, and I go rigid. Something slams into me. Correction: I slam into the floor, and I flop there uselessly, unable to control my own body.
The world snaps back into focus as though someone flipped an override switch in my head. I can move again, and man, I can tell I’m going to have a bruise the size of Utah on my backside.
I wasn’t the only one who took the hit, either: Missy, Stacy, Astrid, they’re all splayed out in front of me. I can’t see Sara or Matt, but Stuart crawls into my field of vision, dragging himself over to Missy.
“What the...?” I manage, though to me it sounds like
Whuhwuh?
Astrid responds with a grunt and a groan. “Psychic backlash,” she says. “Sorry, should have warned you about that.”
“Missy,” Stuart says, scooping her up in his arms. He shakes her gently, and my God, the look on his face twists my stomach into a granny knot. I’ve never seen him so terrified. “Muppet? Missy? Missy!”
She moans, and Stuart shrinks into himself, uttering a breathless
thank you
to God.
“Stuart, clear her out,” I say, remembering there is someone else we need to worry about, but Astrid waves a dismissive hand at us: Stacy Hellfire is no longer a concern. A weird bluish smoke drifts off her body. Her eyes are blank, glassy, like doll’s eyes, her face utterly expressionless. Statues in wax museums look more lifelike. It takes a second for the smell to hit me, a sharp odor of ozone and sulfur, with an undercurrent of burnt meat. My throat goes dry, my stomach spasms. Stacy Hellfire — whoever she really was — is dead.
Oh God, I’m going to be sick...
Missy moans again. Stuart hugs her close. “Hey,” he says. “How’re you doing? You okay, Missy?”
Missy grasps Stuart’s face, forcing his head back. She giggles.
“The name’s
I open my eyes. Stacy is firing blind, literally. An overhead light fixture explodes. Windows shatter. Carpeting disintegrates into ash.
Stuart takes the opening, charging Stacy like a linebacker. By Stuart standards it’s a gentle shove, but it’s more than enough to send her flying. Stacy slams into the short stacks near Matt and Sara, folding in half over the unforgiving steel shelving, but she bounces back like a rubber ball, then swings around to find Stuart.
Sara!
I say.
Hit her!
Sara jumps to her feet, tags Stacy from behind with a telekinetic punch. Stacy goes sprawling again, into the center of the floor. She’s an open target, so I let her have it. We each throw off a wild shot. Hers misses. Mine connects, punching her in the chest, and driving her into the circulation desk. Her next attack goes low. The stacks rock beneath my feet, books going up like they were doused in gasoline. Missy and I jump clear. I go up, nearly smacking into the ceiling. She goes down, landing on her feet, but with more force than she expected; she flattens like a pancake.
The others emerge from hiding, cautiously; Stacy lies slumped against the circulation desk, perfectly still, her hands extinguished, but I definitely do not trust her to be down for the count.
“Ow,” Missy says, pushing up to her hands and knees.
“You okay, Muppet?” Matt calls out.
“I think so.”
Astrid gestures. All the fires flutter, then wink out of existence, leaving behind a disgusting ash that reeks of sulfur. “Missy, back away from —”
Whatever else she says is drowned out by Missy’s startled shriek as Stacy grabs for our ninja, seizing her face.
Astrid reaches them first. She grasps Stacy by the head, like she’s going to whip out the catfight rulebook and pull Stacy off by her hair. The air crackles. Astrid releases a charge of magical energy. I can feel it from here, an all-over prickling sensation, like I’ve been covered in fire ants. Someone screams. The prickling turns hot and painful, a sensation akin to a powerful electrical shock, and I go rigid. Something slams into me. Correction: I slam into the floor, and I flop there uselessly, unable to control my own body.
The world snaps back into focus as though someone flipped an override switch in my head. I can move again, and man, I can tell I’m going to have a bruise the size of Utah on my backside.
I wasn’t the only one who took the hit, either: Missy, Stacy, Astrid, they’re all splayed out in front of me. I can’t see Sara or Matt, but Stuart crawls into my field of vision, dragging himself over to Missy.
“What the...?” I manage, though to me it sounds like
Whuhwuh?
Astrid responds with a grunt and a groan. “Psychic backlash,” she says. “Sorry, should have warned you about that.”
“Missy,” Stuart says, scooping her up in his arms. He shakes her gently, and my God, the look on his face twists my stomach into a granny knot. I’ve never seen him so terrified. “Muppet? Missy? Missy!”
She moans, and Stuart shrinks into himself, uttering a breathless
thank you
to God.
“Stuart, clear her out,” I say, remembering there is someone else we need to worry about, but Astrid waves a dismissive hand at us: Stacy Hellfire is no longer a concern. A weird bluish smoke drifts off her body. Her eyes are blank, glassy, like doll’s eyes, her face utterly expressionless. Statues in wax museums look more lifelike. It takes a second for the smell to hit me, a sharp odor of ozone and sulfur, with an undercurrent of burnt meat. My throat goes dry, my stomach spasms. Stacy Hellfire — whoever she really was — is dead.
Oh God, I’m going to be sick...
Missy moans again. Stuart hugs her close. “Hey,” he says. “How’re you doing? You okay, Missy?”
Missy grasps Stuart’s face, forcing his head back. She giggles.
“The name’s
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