Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,20
airplanes and even shades should best get out of her way.
“This house is under the protection of the Katipuneros, by Avalon military decree number 1082,” she boomed, in a voice larger and fiercer than her body size allowed for. “Take another step and be snuffed out like the insignificant shadows you are, you reverse-projected, two-dimensional Jungian rejects!”
The shades halted momentarily, as if puzzled by the old woman’s audacity. But all too soon their inexorable natures reasserted themselves, and they continued their relentless trek forward.
“Beta formation code 135, defensive maneuvers!”
More people of indeterminate old age emerged from hiding places behind bushes and trees, vaguely threatening, only they had not been wearing bathrobes. But they were armed…with more abanico fans, a cane, and in one instance even a makeshift shiv, because General Luna had once been in prison for three days and had consequently Learned Things there.
And they were good at fighting. They knew where to hit, how to inflict the worst hurt. Shadows shrieked as the innocent-looking fans—or more specifically, the hidden blades lining the edges of the thin abaca fabric—dug into them, twisting and grasping, until soon even the endless darkness showed signs of faltering.
“Teejay,” Lola Urduja said, “shade at five o’clock.”
The tita, her hair still pinned up by large rollers, obeyed, punching a fan through the shadow’s chest before it could reach the other woman.
“Hold your position, Heneral,” Lola Urduja said to old General Luna, who had planted himself in front of the house next door. “Don’t let them in!”
“Mga antipatika!” the octogenarian barked, then cheerfully shanked a shadow into nothingness.
A few of the shades crept toward her, sentient enough to recognize the little old lady’s importance, but Lola Urduja lunged, was quicker than her limp suggested. Her fan twisted, and the sharp knives underneath the stretched cloth tore into the creatures as if they were wet paper. She whipped it toward another approaching shadow, and an abrupt flick of her wrist summoned a sudden roaring wind, slashing the darkness into pieces without ever making contact.
The firebird and the elders fought the shades all night long. Finally, as dawn touched the sky with the colors of sunrise, the last of the creatures slunk away, disappearing into the sidewalk just as quickly as they had arrived.
Wearily, the firebird watched them leave, the flames in its feathers dimming. When the last flickered out, it sighed and closed its eyes, returning to its perch atop the mailbox.
Adrenaline faded, was taken out of the elders’ veins like an IV drip. They mumbled and scuffed at the ground with their feet and looked rightfully embarrassed. This was technically not appropriate behavior for old men and women, though the awed grins had some trouble leaving their creased faces.
“Hadn’t seen this much action since Wonderland,” Boy signed.
“Nakakamiss,” Chedeng murmured, reverting briefly to Tagalog. “Good times.”
“Punyeta,” the general agreed.
“Natakot ba natin?” Baby asked Lola.
The little old woman pursed her lips. “No. They’ll be back. Umalis na kayo. Won’t be good for Tala to see us out here on the lawn. She’ll have questions.”
“The firebird is here,” Chedeng said, not without some awe. “Mare, it really is the firebird!”
“Control your excitement, Mercedes. This is far from over.”
The door to 24 Dharma Road opened, and Kay Warnock emerged with a can of beer in hand, yawning.
“So good of you to help,” Lola Urduja said dryly.
“Y’did a good enough job without me.”
“A little too early to be drinking.”
“On the contrary. After what just happened, I think it’s a fine time to start.”
“Lumina?”
“Making coffee for the rest o’ ye.”
“Tala?”
“Still fast asleep.”
A large orange cat wandered onto the lawn. It glanced at what appeared to be feathered breakfast, until the firebird opened one eye and shot it a look that could peel bark. The tabby weighed its options carefully, finally discarding the obvious choice in favor of the one that championed self-preservation. It settled at the farthest end of the garden.
Kay took a long drink. “Now what?”
“It came a day early,” said Lola Urduja. “Or perhaps not. For all our careful planning, we’d forgotten about time zones, and that Avalon would be ten hours ahead. As far as it’s concerned, it’s right on time. That it arrived at all is something to celebrate.”
“Pangitain, is what that is,” the general muttered. “An omen.”
“This is a bloody big event, Sarge,” Kay rumbled. “You’re eerily calm about it.”
“So are you. Everyone thought the Snow Queen was dead. Tonight suggests she is not. You don’t seem surprised.”
Kay inclined his head. “I’d hoped she was dead. But