J.D. Horn - 03 The Final Days of Magic by J.D. Horn

Author:J.D. Horn [Horn, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542040143
Publisher: 47North
Published: 2019-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Tonight, the girl had stood waiting, watching, her imploring gaze fixed on Evangeline. But before Evangeline could go to her, something caught the girl’s attention from the direction of Toulouse Street. She glanced over, then turned away, her eyes grazing Evangeline once more as she began walking, a brisk but not panicked pace, in the opposite direction toward Conti.

Evangeline bolted after her without a second thought. She’d crossed over Conti before realizing she’d left Bonnes Nouvelles empty and wide open. She called after the girl to wait, but the waif took off running, increasing the distance between them each second. The girl was young and fleet, and, unlike Evangeline, she hadn’t been doing shots all night. She was slipping away, already a block ahead. To Evangeline’s surprise, she stopped for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder as if to ensure she was still being followed.

A clamoring rose up from the street ahead as a mixed group of drunks, male and female, in identical Santa Claus costumes, stumbled from a karaoke bar onto the street. They shouted and hurled raucous merry Christmases at all those they encountered, then started howling out a rough-voiced rendition of “Silent Night”—a cacophony that sounded more like a battle cry than a carol.

One rough Santa snatched at the girl as she tried to run past the inebriated rabble, catching her by the hand and screaming, “What do you want Santa to bring you?” The child responded with a hard kick to his groin. As he dropped to his knees before her, she tugged her hand from his grip and slapped his face. Having served up the fight, the girl now opted for flight. She sped down Bourbon at a pace Evangeline could never hope to match to the accompaniment of the man’s obscenities and his gang’s laughter.

Evangeline dodged across the street to avoid getting caught up in the tangle of red suits, but her effort came too late. The girl was gone. Evangeline opened herself up, sending her energy out like radar, waiting for it to bounce back.

A sense of loss, tinged with rage, punched her in the chest. Evangeline turned and began running up Bienville, away from the river. And then it happened. The transformation was nearly complete before she’d even registered it had begun. Her clothing dissipated like vapor and her field of vision widened as sprinting gave way to flight.

No compelling force or lunar phase controlled Evangeline’s transformations now. There was no pain. No disembodied voice to taunt her and tempt her with promises of sweet release. No hellish fermata retarding the process until it seemed time itself stood still.

Now she could change form in a blink, but the gift came at a cost. In that blink Evangeline touched darkness, and the darkness touched her.

“Each change, ma chère, will make you less of what you were and more of what you will be,” her mother’s sister witch, the ancient Margot, had said. Margot’s words had seemed not so much a warning as a blunt statement of what the crone had considered to be an inescapable truth.

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