Read Online Something Wikkid This Way Comes by Nicole Peeler - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicole Peeler
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again. I amp up my weak shields, wishing for the hundredth time that my camo would work against elemental magic, as I try to keep my eyes on Moo’s face.
Her eyes snap open, focusing on a distant spot on the wall, when she finds something. She purses her lips in concentration, and then she smiles.
“I think I’ve found—” Before Moo can finish, however, there comes a voice from behind us.
“Get off my land!” it screeches. I start to whip around, catching a glimpse of a hooded figure, as its power booms out.
It’s old magic.
I still have my camo up, so the bulk of its force bounces off my shields with only enough strength to knock me on my ass. Moo, however, goes flying, as even her Alfar strength no match for the old magic. She hits the massive altar hard, her manifested shields taking the brunt of the impact, but it still has to hurt.
Then the hooded figure disappears, apparating with an audible pop.
I get to my feet before hurrying over to Moo. She’s pulling hard on her power, healing herself, and I let her finish before offering her my hand. She stands gingerly, shaking her head as if her ears are ringing.
“Well, that answers one question,” Moo says, her voice calm despite everything. I nod. I, too, have recognized the power signature: a bizarre combination of mostly old magic with a little bit of elemental magic thrown in.
There’s only one creature that starts out elemental like us but ends up being able to use the old magic.
“Gnome,” I say. Then, to clarify, “Young and squatting.”
Moo nods, then gives me the information I need to call Tom so he can round up his paranormal posse.
We may need reinforcements.
* * *
“This is it,” Moo says. “The dead patch.”
We’re back outside the cornfield where Shar had her original run-in with Jodi. But now that we know what we’re looking for, we can feel the same curious blankness that blanketed the school. In fact, the field’s actually not far from the school, separated only by the school’s ample grounds and a thin strip of forest surrounding what used to be a railway track but has long since been turned into a nature trail.
The blank spot probably resembles a large oval from above, encompassing the school and its environs, the bit of trail, and a patch of this cornfield.
Not a huge amount of territory, no—but a good patch of land for a very young gnome to squat on and eventually bind with to create its own territory. Gnomes start out like us, able to use only elemental magics. But once they bond to a territory, they have access to the old magic, the essential stuff of which our elemental powers are but a shadow.
They wizen up like tiny elderly beings when they fully bond, giving life to the legend of garden gnomes. But they’re the sort of garden gnomes more likely to wield the power of a nuclear warhead than a wheelbarrow.
After we’ve probed the hell out of the blank patch to make sure we know exactly where the squatting gnome’s territory ends, Moo turns to me expectantly.
“What’s the plan?”
Plans are my job. Sometimes I hate my job.
I cross my arms and think about it. If we charge into the gnome’s territory, it’d just do what it did earlier and thump Moo. I might be able to forge ahead using my camo, but then it’d be me against a field full of drugged girls, someone posing as Satan—who may or may not be powerful—and the gnome. I’m pretty good in a brawl but not that good. So if we can’t go in, we have to divide their forces and get Satan to come out. But how? And will our reinforcements arrive in time if Satan really is a prince of darkness?
“Uh, Cap?” Moo says, interrupting my reverie.
“Huh?”
“We have a visitor.” Moo points toward the parking lot where we left the Bronco. There’s a girl walking toward us, dressed in an unseasonable trench coat, large-brimmed straw hat obscuring her face, and kicky strappy sandals. She looks like a flasher all done up to go to the Derby.
Her eyes snap open, focusing on a distant spot on the wall, when she finds something. She purses her lips in concentration, and then she smiles.
“I think I’ve found—” Before Moo can finish, however, there comes a voice from behind us.
“Get off my land!” it screeches. I start to whip around, catching a glimpse of a hooded figure, as its power booms out.
It’s old magic.
I still have my camo up, so the bulk of its force bounces off my shields with only enough strength to knock me on my ass. Moo, however, goes flying, as even her Alfar strength no match for the old magic. She hits the massive altar hard, her manifested shields taking the brunt of the impact, but it still has to hurt.
Then the hooded figure disappears, apparating with an audible pop.
I get to my feet before hurrying over to Moo. She’s pulling hard on her power, healing herself, and I let her finish before offering her my hand. She stands gingerly, shaking her head as if her ears are ringing.
“Well, that answers one question,” Moo says, her voice calm despite everything. I nod. I, too, have recognized the power signature: a bizarre combination of mostly old magic with a little bit of elemental magic thrown in.
There’s only one creature that starts out elemental like us but ends up being able to use the old magic.
“Gnome,” I say. Then, to clarify, “Young and squatting.”
Moo nods, then gives me the information I need to call Tom so he can round up his paranormal posse.
We may need reinforcements.
* * *
“This is it,” Moo says. “The dead patch.”
We’re back outside the cornfield where Shar had her original run-in with Jodi. But now that we know what we’re looking for, we can feel the same curious blankness that blanketed the school. In fact, the field’s actually not far from the school, separated only by the school’s ample grounds and a thin strip of forest surrounding what used to be a railway track but has long since been turned into a nature trail.
The blank spot probably resembles a large oval from above, encompassing the school and its environs, the bit of trail, and a patch of this cornfield.
Not a huge amount of territory, no—but a good patch of land for a very young gnome to squat on and eventually bind with to create its own territory. Gnomes start out like us, able to use only elemental magics. But once they bond to a territory, they have access to the old magic, the essential stuff of which our elemental powers are but a shadow.
They wizen up like tiny elderly beings when they fully bond, giving life to the legend of garden gnomes. But they’re the sort of garden gnomes more likely to wield the power of a nuclear warhead than a wheelbarrow.
After we’ve probed the hell out of the blank patch to make sure we know exactly where the squatting gnome’s territory ends, Moo turns to me expectantly.
“What’s the plan?”
Plans are my job. Sometimes I hate my job.
I cross my arms and think about it. If we charge into the gnome’s territory, it’d just do what it did earlier and thump Moo. I might be able to forge ahead using my camo, but then it’d be me against a field full of drugged girls, someone posing as Satan—who may or may not be powerful—and the gnome. I’m pretty good in a brawl but not that good. So if we can’t go in, we have to divide their forces and get Satan to come out. But how? And will our reinforcements arrive in time if Satan really is a prince of darkness?
“Uh, Cap?” Moo says, interrupting my reverie.
“Huh?”
“We have a visitor.” Moo points toward the parking lot where we left the Bronco. There’s a girl walking toward us, dressed in an unseasonable trench coat, large-brimmed straw hat obscuring her face, and kicky strappy sandals. She looks like a flasher all done up to go to the Derby.
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