“No stabbing Chloe. Note taken.” His grin diminishes some. “What’s the plan?”
I wipe sweaty loose strands away from my face; they’ve begun to develop ice crystals. And then I make myself a super warm white beanie. Upon consideration, I switch all of our clothes to white to match our surroundings. Will jerks in his boots, like the color change shocked him. “Don’t be a baby. All I did was camouflage your clothes. Keep it up and I really will make you a kilt. Didn’t they wear those without underwear?” I leer. “Gosh, can you imagine that in this weather?” He protests, so I talk right over him. “I’m kidding. The plan is simple: take the Elder down before it kills us.”
“Oh, yes, that sounds quite simple,” Will mocks. He pats his pants, clearly making sure I didn’t switch them out for a kilt after all.
A scream fills the clearing. My knees spasm, but I know that I can’t let Will down. I must stay calm for him.
He slides an arrow out of the black leather quiver I made. “What kind of arrows are these?”
His voice is still calm, filled with a hint of amusement. Seriously. What’s wrong with him? Any sane person, Magicals included now, ought to be scared shitless in a situation like this. “They’re like little suns,” I say, pointing to the glowing arrow tip.
He jerks his fingers away from the shaft. “The fuck . . .?”
This freaks him out more than the monster coming to hunt us down? “Well, I took away the gravitational pull, and altered the properties so it doesn’t, you know, blow up the planet or anything, but technically it’s a concentrated bit of hydrogen.” He stares at me with growing horror, so I add, “It’s not like I’m a scientist or anything. They’re probably not even technically suns. It’s just what I call them. I made them up. They’re effective. Unless you get shot with one, you ought to be fine handling them.”
He’s still horrified.
“Oh, gods,” I groan. “Just give me the damn thing. Stick with the sword.” I probably shouldn’t tell him that I made the blade out of a metal found only on the Goblin plane that can cut through anything, including stone, like it’s a sheet of paper. I take the bow away from him. I keep the arrows, adding them to my quiver, but erase the rest.
“You’re a wee bit terrifying,” he finally says.
A shriek follows, the closest one since the house. I will my courage to not fail me. “Let’s hope I stay that way. Get ready.” I slide an arrow into the bow.
Will holds his sword up, looking for a brief, snowy moment like the warrior from the past he’d joked about. Like metal in his hands was second nature. If I were truly smart, I’d knock him out and hide him, but the truth is, it’s sort of nice to know I’m not alone right now.
Because . . . there it is. Right at the opposite edge of the clearing. It’s found us.
I nearly started screaming in terror. This Elder looks, for the first time ever, humanish. Still smoky, still distorting, but damn if it doesn’t actually mold its shape into a person with eyes—glowing ones that can’t seem to decide on a color. I don’t know which is worse—the shape-shifting creature, or the choice to look like it does now. No, wait. I do. This one. This one looks far more frightening than any of the others.
“Bloody hell,” Will whispers.
What he said.
A concave hole opens where a mouth ought to be and . . . it laughs. LAUGHS. Not screams, but laughs. And it’s an awful laugh, all evil and angry and . . . female. This thing here, it’s a female.
“Found you, little Creator,” it hisses, voice distorted and hollow.
Oh. My. EFFING. GODS. It spoke to me. It spoke! THEY SPEAK.
Furthermore, its arms extend and twist until they resemble fists curling around twin sais. WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? This—Elders don’t do this! Do they? Have they changed in the last six months?
I fight to reclaim my voice. “What are you?”
It tsk-tsks, black smoke trailing out of its cavernous hole of a mouth. “Rude little piglet. Not what. Who.”
My own mouth snaps shut. I pull the bowstring in my hands so tight my arms ache. Finally, “Alright. Who are you?”
It swings the sai-like extensions in whip-fast circles that lead my heart in a matching rhythm. “I am feeling generous right now, so I will answer you. I am Cailleache, little Creator. And I am here to collect you.”
Cailleache. Cailleache—the wheels in my mind spin as my arms slowly liquefy under the strain of keeping the bowstring taut. And then it hits me, why this name is so familiar. This is the first Creator’s wife. The second Elder/Magical in existence. The one who controls all four elements: earth, air, wind, fire.
The first Elemental ever.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper.
Cailleache glides forward, like some kind of nightmare from a horror film. “Come with me, and I won’t kill your pet.”