The Calling

By Louise G White

A Scottish Urban Fantasy:

On the run and hiding from ‘the suits’, Carolyn’s life is far from straightforward. After her mother and brother go missing in a most extraordinary way, (through a hole to another world which appears in the kitchen wall!), she is determined to track them down and bring them home. But life is never that easy! Rescued and protected by a group of unusual and likeminded ‘people’, Carolyn hones her magic and fighting skills. Whilst answering a ‘call’ to retrieve a human from another world she’s faced with a quick decision and ends up bringing a demon back with her. Little did she know what effect this demon would have on her. As each day passes her strengths grow and her magic develops to assist her in her quest to track down her family, but there are decisions to make that will affect the rest of her life.

Praise for The Calling: Gateway series #1

“The calling is a fantastic, fast paced read with a little bit of everything including suspense, romance, fantasy and paranormal.” – Leigh (Australia)

“When you think of magic, mages and demons let me guess Harry Potter or Buffy The Vampire Slayer springs to mind, am I right? Well this isn't a television show or movie you can safely view from home or you can hit pause when the scenes gets scary. No this is my life, imagine a doorway leading to another realm or planet appearing. Just like in Stargate SG-1 minus all the fancy lights and armed Marines. Every time the gate opens something explosive happens forcing me to answer its call. Just like with any door demons, monsters and other Otherworlders comes out and not all of them are very friendly. Who am I you ask? To my friends I'm Carolyn McInally. To my enemies, I'm known as the Destroyer!” – Christine (US)

“YA urban fantasies have been the thing for the last few years. However, The Calling is an original spin on an old otherworldly tale. It's a great read with an ending that will make you demand more.” – A. E. Albert (US)

“There was lots of excitement, danger and the cliff-hanger at the end was inspired.” – OnSpecials (US)

“I recommend this novel to anyone who loves sci-fi fantasy or just enjoys a fast read.” – Kindle customer (US)

“The Calling is a thrilling debut from an author I’m excited to read more from, to which I recommend to all lovers of YA fantasy.” Anna (UK)

“"The Calling”, by Louise G. White is a captivating fantasy YA book that will definitely entertain you, either if you are a fan of YA genre or if you're not. Mystery, magic, adventure and romance are mixed in its pages in a wonderful combination. Congratulations, Ms. Louise G. White, for a great debut! Can't wait to read your next book!” – BookAd (Canada)

“Would recommend for anyone with an interest in Dark Fantasy, and for adults of all ages, young and old.” – V. Hunter (UK)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise G White
• Release date: Dec 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9780993081750

Louise G White

I didn't set out to write Urban fantasy, but when I sat with my laptop to begin The Calling, It became apparent that I still believed in the Bogey Men, the Monster in the cupboard and of course, the Faeries at the bottom of our garden. Suddenly I found that I was writing a story of Heroes who could be found both on our doorsteps and in the realms that lie beyond.The scenic west coast of Scotland is where I live with my family.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Under the Radar

Carolyn watched the place where the land and water met, secure in the knowledge that she was alone in the predawn. As the dark sky slowly turned to a portentous grey above, she understood that she would soon have to leave her special place. Her arm prickled and she rubbed at it, a reminder that she was alive.

She turned her face to meet the stepping up of the morning breeze, a lock of damp hair repeatedly whipping her face. That, and the rain drenching her clothes to the skin, offered all the credence she needed that she really was fully and miserably alive.

A lone gull shrieked and spun a slow circle overhead. The blue coloured metal bench on which she sat glistened darkly under the amber glow of a street lamp behind her. The promenade was interspersed with only a few such pools of light, casting little of it over the barrier towards the dark sand before her. As yet, the sea beyond was nothing more than a black glittering expanse, its true beauty as yet unrevealed. Listening to the rhythmic lap of the waves at the water’s edge, she would find her quietude before returning home.

The arm was bothersome so she rolled up her sleeve, exposing peeling, blistered skin which renewed itself before her eyes. She didn’t wonder at its rapid healing, focusing only on the increasingly painful process.

The rain had developed to a tropical deluge; the damaged skin and blood clots now coalesced to a slop, running off her arm in ropey tangles to reveal shiny-new pink skin beneath.

There, on the bench, her clothing soaked through, Carolyn suffered no real discomfort. A little rain she could handle. As the cloud lightened and shifted to the west, the shape of the Arran hills appeared on the horizon, their outline fifteen miles or so away. A month ago, I would have been busy readying for school, grumbling about misplaced homework. Mum would be nagging me to hurry. Carolyn’s worst imaginings then would have consisted of being picked last for netball practice, or Jim Grant in Chemistry class finding out about her massive crush on him.

The gull had somehow moved without her noticing, now on the railing separating the promenade from the sandy beach. Its black eyes studied her as if she were a curious specimen.

Get lost, bird. Her words no more than a growl, she was certain her voice had suffered from lack of use. What am I doing? It’s only a bird.

The corners of her bloodless lips turned up into a grin, one without humour. Perhaps I’m finally losing my mind. She focused, intent on letting the emerging beauty of the scenery still her disordered mind.

It seemed to work, up to a point, as if by some osmotic process. After a time, the rain stopped, but the view remained oddly blurred, and she wiped her eyes.

I’m not crying.

The water trickling down her face served only to mock her.

When she approached the house at South Beach, it greeted her with disquiet, windows dully reflecting like half-lidded eyes…reproachful?

Cutting through the back lane, she waded through the waste ground that had once been a finely kept garden. The door creaked loudly as she opened it; an involuntary, irritated noise escaped as she locked it behind her.

Carolyn placed the key on the bulky, oddly shaped key holder that Eddie had made in his first year tech class.

How thrilled her mother had been with his less than perfect effort, giving the ugly, poorly sanded piece what she declared as, ‘Its rightful place’. Her heart stuttered in recognition of old wounds. Reaching out, she stroked a finger over its rough edges in quiet tribute.

She shivered in her wet clothing, taking leaden steps to the cupboard under the stairs.

The dank air in the house was enough to make her breathing constrict, and her passage through it seemed to be slower than the house would have liked. The weight of old memories pressed down as she tried to blot out the echoes of family life that had once surrounded her.

With sudden intensity, she wished she had appreciated things more, that she’d been the model sister and daughter, that she’d told her mother and brother how much she loved them. Hell, she’d even settle for not having been a self-absorbed, whining bitch for just a short spell while there had still been time with them.

But wallowing in misery wouldn’t help her now.

Her family was gone.

She bolted the basement door at her back, the new mechanism sliding home effortlessly. The stairs groaned weakly at her weight as she descended into her temporary place of safety.

It would have been good to stay, but soon she would have to move on.

Don’t think about that now.

Installing the new bolt had been a futile act of resistance to the change she knew to be coming.

Her screwdriver clattered to the concrete floor as she peeled off her sodden clothes, ones she had already worn for several days. Her shivering increased as she rifled through an old suitcase at the bottom of the stairs.

T-shirt and shorts. Fine.

She dragged the fresh clothes over her damp skin, her teeth clenched to stop them chattering. The roll-away bed sat in its usual messy state, in the far corner of the basement, out of direct sight from the door. Carolyn placed her screwdriver under the mattress and curled up on the bed, making a cocoon around her body of the old stained duvet, trying to conserve heat.

She didn’t register the fact that her bed smelled damp and rotten, or that her body smelled no better. One long-fingered bony hand emerged from the cocoon and slid under the mattress, enjoying the comforting weight of her weapon.

Eventually, her breathing slowed, the shivering stopped and she succumbed to the uneasy, dream-fuelled state that awaited her.

~***~

Carolyn burst into the house after school, the smell of furniture polish and kitchen cleaner welcoming her in.

From the large hallway, she heard music, the radio playing The Killers’ ‘Human’. Her mother loved that song. She expected to enter the kitchen and find her jumping about to it, but noted that her mother’s melodic voice wasn’t drowning it out with her own version of the lyrics.

Carolyn opened the kitchen door and almost turned and ran.

A head and shoulders protruded grotesquely from where the cooker used to be. A dark red patch covered that part of the wall, maybe a bit larger than the appliance, roughly circular, more than a metre across. It wavered like a pool of gravity-defying blood.

Carolyn opened her mouth but no sound came out. Smears of blood – fresh and bright – streaked the front of the kitchen units. Her mother’s body lay flat on the floor, facing up, her arms each side of the patch, trying to grab on to anything solid. More blood stained the white counter top. Oh, my God. It’s Mum’s blood. Her own mum whose torn up fingers still scrabbled to find purchase.

She didn’t shriek, the noise from her lips more like the growling determination of a Rottweiler.

As her head turned, her mother’s blonde curls almost swept the tiled floor and she stared at Carolyn, frozen in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of her mother’s floating head and torso. For a moment, Carolyn was reminded of a magician’s levitating subject, until her mother’s cries and struggles, until the blood and the gaping hole in the kitchen wall…

No. Surely this had to be some sort of daydream, a waking nightmare. Finishing a book at three in the morning could do that to you, right? She was hallucinating one of their sick and twisted horror plots? She must have been.

This cannot be real…it’s just not possible…I’ve had some sort of breakdown…or been slipped drugs at school. Carolyn wanted to close her eyes against it but a deadly fascination gripped her.

Force a blink.

Her lids closed. Breathe. Now breathe.

Better now. She’d worked it out. Her mother was not being sucked into the cooker from the safety of their kitchen. No-one was hurt, no-one was to blame. I’m just not well.

For a fraction of a second, her pitiful response almost upset her more than the patent truth. The fact that her closed eyes blocked out the scene but not the sounds forced her to a sudden and unwelcomed clarity.

Run, baby, run, her mother snarled at her, eyes impossibly wide…aware. She managed to fix Carolyn with her signature stare. A stare that had no place in this madness.

Really, Mum. This is not about running up the phone bill, or forgetting to take out the rubbish.

Still struggling against whatever could possibly be on the other side of the bloody patch of wall, her mother was clearly losing the battle, slowly disappearing into the blood-red blotch.

Adrenaline flooded Carolyn’s limbs. Taking a running slide to the floor, she landed beneath her mother’s head, her hair falling into her mouth. She ignored it and grabbed the hot and sweaty cotton of her mother’s checked shirt. As she wrapped her arms around her, that hot, clammy feel told her that her mother had been fighting with everything she had, for a long time, and was near collapse.

Carolyn tried to brace her feet against anything solid, to help her pull her mother’s weight away from the horrifying patch.

The effort took her breath away, her strength nothing against what was on the other side. Carolyn changed position, wedging her feet against the units either side. She sensed the lack of humanity in their foe as an odour, unknown to her, seeped from the patch in the wall. It was a cloyingly rich smell like that of peat on a coal fire.

Carolyn knew, with absolute certainty, that she didn’t want to see what was there but knew she couldn’t pull against it for long. Finding a reserve of energy from somewhere, she pulled with all her might. A grin of triumph started to flood her face as she felt the resistance lessen and her mother begin to slide towards her.

Too late, her advantage was lost when a terrible tearing noise pierced the air.

Crap…and she imagined her mother’s lower half almost ripped off. The thing on the other side had clearly doubled its efforts, and Carolyn was wrenched towards the patch after her mother.

The pressure was so great her hips cracked and snapped, and she screamed, white hot pain shooting through her as she was dragged into the patch with her mother. Intense heat surrounded her, red-orange light hurting her eyes, and everything below her waist succumbed to a terrifying numbness, accentuating how the rest of her felt like she was being fried from the outside in.

Carolyn refused to let go, eyes tightly closed, determined to hang on, no matter what, and tears burned her eyes as she realised they were both going to die.

Eddie? she suddenly remembered, calling out through clenched teeth.

‘He’s gone.’ Her mother sounded surprisingly calm, her words ringing clear in Carolyn’s addled brain. ‘You need to let me go now.’

Had she gone crazy? then Carolyn realised that her mother’s lips hadn’t moved.

She chooses now to show me she can do telepathy?

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t explain – you have to go back.’

No!

Bloodied fingers pried Carolyn’s hands away.

NO!

Too scared to look at the creature on the other side, she sensed its curiosity; it still had her mother securely by her legs in a sick tug-of-war, but it waited, and Carolyn couldn’t see through the red-orange fog that obscured everything but her mother.

‘It’s okay, baby.’

Carolyn’s resolve started to weaken and her mother pushed her away the moment she felt it, their bodies flying apart. Carolyn landed awkwardly, her body cooling rapidly on their kitchen floor as she watched her mother disappear beyond the furnace.

Carolyn’s screeches subsided to snivels as the excruciating pain in her hips blotted out all else. The bloody patch where the cooker had once been now closed over with a sizzling slurp. She couldn’t believe she’d been pulled almost into hell with her mother, and had somehow come back without her.

Guilt threatened to suffocate Carolyn. Was her mother now dead, or suffering in ways that death itself would be a relief? What about Eddie? Did he, like her, try to save their mother? Could it even have been the other way round?

The phone on the wall beside the door wasn’t that far away, but it may as well have been miles for all she could reach it. Her thighs lay at an unnatural angle to her pelvis as numbness and pain warred for supremacy, Carolyn not knowing which to fear most.

She lay in a wet puddle. Could this day get any worse?

Slowly, with trembling hands, she felt either side of her hips. Her eyes closed and she felt her body shudder as a surge of pure, raw power coursed through her. To her astonishment, she could visualise her injuries, like X-ray images.

Her heart jumped at the hope, subduing the pain. The right ball joint was the more damaged, the head of the long bone having been crushed against its socket. Somehow she knew she could do something about it, knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning. As she concentrated, energy in the form of heat rushed to the area, moulding and fusing the shattered bone back to its original form. Steam soon rose from her wet clothing, involuntary cries seeping from her as tears burned her eyes. The hip felt excruciating but she was actually healing…yes…damn it…healing.

Using the power was painful, but oh, my God…amazing!

The left hip was less damaged, the bones intact, and the soft tissue damage took less time to heal. All this came to her as though she’d been practising it for her entire life.

Eventually, she managed to get to her feet, shakily hanging on to the kitchen table. Her legs felt like jelly but at least they worked as they should. She reached for the phone.

After pressing 999, she let the phone rest in her hand for a while, unable to press the call button. Her head might have been in a mess but she’d filtered out the important things, like she wasn’t yet sixteen, her family were missing and she had no-one else to turn to. What she’d seen of care homes on television and in the papers suddenly scared her. If she couldn’t have her old, comfortable life back then that wasn’t an alternative she’d dare consider.

Carolyn placed the phone carefully back on the receiver and stared at the blackened but now only slightly misshapen cooker that has somehow returned to its place in the kitchen. Had it ever really been gone? Had it occupied space for a time in some other reality? Her life, she knew, would never again be the same, but a new resolve grew strong in her.

I’ll find my family and destroy those responsible.

~***~

Carolyn’s eyes snapped open. Someone was in the house. Floorboards above creaked and the sound of voices reached her ears. Unwrapping herself from her cocoon, she slid out of bed, making her way to the foot of the stairs. She could only hear a few words amongst the muffled voices; ‘subject’, ‘gateway’.

Meaningless.

Straining to hear, she flinched at the word, ‘magic’. Did that word describe her? No. Magic was bad. Magic was what the scarred man used to manipulate her, to coax and tempt her.

It hadn’t worked.

The people above, did they know she was here? Were they watching the house again? She might no longer know what she was, after all the changes she’d gone through, but she knew they were looking for her.

Crouched on the dirty concrete floor of her lair, she was no longer cold; her flesh hummed with hours of charging sleep.

Wait it out. They went away before, they’ll go away again. She rocked from foot to foot in perfect balance, her arms swinging lightly at her sides, mindful to keep the blood flowing to her extremities. If it ever came to a choice, she would rather be caught by a group of suits than the scarred man who came on his own. Without knowing his name, she simply thought of him as the scarred man. She’d been lucky to escape him so far, as she had been with the government suits who she assumed were now searching the rooms above.

Basement.

Restless anticipation rose within her. Who had disturbed her this time? She wanted no-one here. Why had she bolted the door? If she unlatched it now, would they then not notice it?

Carolyn pressed her grubby hands to her temples. The suits weren’t any great threat to her…were they?

The never distant animal part of her flew into action before she knew it. Crawling up the stairs on all fours, distributing her weight like a cat, she held her breath as she slid the bolt slowly across the door, unlocking it.

Just in time.

The door cracked open, revealing a girl, barely older than Carolyn, framed in the wedge of light. She wore green beautifully fitted trousers and a low cut silk top.

None of the suits was guilty of dressing like that. Way too risqué for their ranks surely, but a nice enough fashion statement.

Definitely not what she had expected. Mere inches from the face of her would be captor, Carolyn backed away down the stairs, in the manner in which she’d ascended.

The girl flicked on the switch by the door, forcing Carolyn’s pupils to constrict as she was almost blinded by the glare of the harsh fluorescent light. For a second, she thought the girl had focused on her, but Carolyn’s eyes hadn’t properly adjusted and the notion was dispelled when the visitor shrugged before gesturing at her colleagues to follow.

Still insecure, Carolyn quickly checked that her invisibility was still in place. It was. For an instant, though, she could have sworn she’d been seen.

The girl made her way slowly down the stairs, her gaze sweeping the room. She twirled a spiky lock of dyed bright-red hair. A male of average build, at least twice the girl’s age, followed after her. Wearing small spectacles, he appeared academic. However, with buzzed, grey-brown hair, and the way he moved down the stairs in his bland dark suit, he struck Carolyn as incongruously militaristic.

Lastly, another female made her way down to the basement. Perhaps in her mid-twenties, she was average in every possible way. Again, with a bland suit that matched the male’s attire, she was a woman who could go anywhere, do anything, and never be identified. Her blandness was altogether disturbing. Her expression was stern as she peered at the screen of a computer tablet bearing a wand-like attachment that she slowly swept to either side. She came down the stairs without her eyes leaving the screen, and without tripping over her heels. Impressive.

It’s Levy’s instructions, Morgan, she muttered. She’s taken a more personal interest in this one. Seems to think the girl could have been hiding out here all this time. The distaste on her face at the surroundings suggested she didn’t believe any normal teen would choose to live like this.

Carolyn was more than aware she wasn’t normal.

We should check the entire house again before we lay this to rest.

The red-head, Morgan, strolled over to the open suitcase and lifted out a T-shirt, displaying it before the others, her eyebrow raised.

No prob, Belle, she answered her colleague. I’d just rather not waste time with squatters in a smelly old basement.

The bland gadget-lady’s name was Belle? Ironic.

Could be a squatter, Belle murmured. Passing Morgan, she went to the bed, sweeping the wand over but not touching it. She wrinkled her nose slightly. The smell? She punched information into her computer. Nothing, she said, no surprise on her face.

The woman gave the appearance of someone merely going through the motions, and Carolyn felt slightly encouraged. Certainly, they might genuinely want to find her, especially if someone in the hierarchy, this Levy, was breathing down their necks, but their contraptions couldn’t track her. She was standing right beside them for God’s sake.

Not knowing whether her relief was entirely appropriate, Carolyn couldn’t help but wonder that the government agencies had been unable to follow any clues here, and so find out what had happened. What hope could she therefore entertain of finding her mother and brother again herself?

These were not the usual government agents; this branch dealt in matters of the supernatural and occult. Carolyn merely observed them, intent on keeping hidden. She had seen too many movies to trust these people, or to trust anyone for that matter.

Morgan moved to Carolyn’s bed as though she had every right and lifted the pillow, grimacing at the heavy mildew on the underside. Carolyn forced herself to remain calm, always difficult during an invasion. Strong emotion could render her visible. They are not the real enemy, she reminded herself.

Morgan brought the pillow to her nose. Carolyn stiffened. Her head had rested on the thing only moments ago.

Morgan’s eyes flicked to the spot where Carolyn thought she’d been seen when they first came in. Not good.

The girl’s expression was thoughtful, calculating. Could she trace her by her scent? Gross. The idea was preposterous. Her invisibility had few limits and hadn’t failed her yet. The enclosed space, however, might make it more likely they could sniff her out.

Let’s get on shall we?

Carolyn watched as her discarded clothing was lifted on the tip of a ballpoint pen, bagged and tagged.

Toxic am I?

Belle gathered the bundle at the top of the stairs, and then she and Morgan discussed the screen currently displayed on the tablet. The man dropped his holdall onto the first step and from it removed a plastic box. With narrowed eyes behind his spectacles, he seemed to be conducting an examination of the slick surface of the walls.

No shelves, no problem. The agent removed a small black device, no larger than a button, from the plastic container. He withdrew a slim metal tool from his breast pocket and inserted it into the device which then cracked open with a brittle snap. His colleagues watched as he fiddled with something within the device, and then snapped it closed again.

Belle ran her finger up the corner of the walls, the man following it before placing his device. He removed it for a second, used the opposite end of his tool to gouge a small hole, and with the aid of what looked like a little putty, stuck the device in.

Fantastic. They’re bugging my place. If Carolyn hadn’t been present, she would never have noticed it. Was it just a matter of time until they caught her?

Belle drew up another image on her screen, revealing a plan of the basement. We’ve already monitored every room in the house and come up with nothing.

Of course. Carolyn remembered a time a while ago, how long was it now? She had been forced to start accessing the house via the basement window because of the unwanted activity in the rooms above. Maybe a seventh sense, but she’d thereafter decided to remain in the comparative safety of the basement.

Perhaps, once they’d finished here, they wouldn’t come back.

When did I start being optimistic?

The man checked the computer tablet’s screen, made a little adjustment to the bug, and looked at the screen again. Better to cross the i’s and dot the t’s, but none of the women responded, although Carolyn permitted herself a twitch of a smile. The camera wasn’t a problem, she could deal with that. Let them do their worst; they won’t hang around that long in her less than hygienic basement.

Hardly worth the trouble, Bob, Belle said, casting him a contemptuous look.

Levy wanted it checked. He picked up his holdall and swung it onto his shoulder, apparently finished. And it’s our job to provide the good tax payers with the best possible service.

Carolyn would love to know how their harassment of her was of any service to the public, but she understood he was just having a laugh with them.

Belle didn’t seem to appreciate Bob’s humour, for her lips pressed together in disapproval. Carolyn imagined she’d be a joy to work with.

Fair enough, but Morgan’s grin didn’t stray far from her mouth. And what the tax payers don’t know won’t hurt them. Right? Although she shared a conspiratorial look with Bob, when she turned her back on him, she rolled her eyes. Carolyn wondered why she was humouring him.

Right, Bob. Morgan turned a more genuine smile on him as he tapped his holdall.

Great. Now just get out.

Shall we return to base?

We need to make sure the squatters don’t return… He paused and pointed at the camera. At least ‘til I pick that up again.

Bob stretched his back and looked at Belle. We’ll keep the surveillance outside for another couple of days. Single-crewed should be fine.

She tapped for another moment on the computer tablet. Done, Bob, she snapped back.

I appreciate that our recent information probably means nothing, Belle, and that so much time has passed, and he slid his spectacles further up on the bridge of his nose, but we might well have to accept that the whole family have been taken away…for good.

What information?

The trio were on their way out, trailing slowly up the stairs, and not before time as far as Carolyn was concerned. She’d already lost interest in them, and knew how to incapacitate their camera. Bob’s parting statement made her stop short, though. Let’s make sure Ethan doesn’t rain on our parade, eh, ladies?

Who the hell was Ethan? And what did he have to do with this?

Morgan, at the rear, paused at the open door and stroked her fingers over Carolyn’s new bolt. Her brow furrowed and she brushed the stair with her finger, raising the dust of Carolyn’s recent DIY efforts.

Carolyn’s heart lodged in her throat. How could she have been so stupid? It had been so unnecessary anyway? Her heart thudded double-time, expecting the others to be called back, but then Morgan simply rubbed the tell-tale dust from her fingers. She afforded the basement one last sharp look, her eyes appearing intensely green in the basement’s fluorescent light.

Right, no more rogue recruits, Bob.

She disappeared into the daylight with the others.

‘Rogue recruits?’ Had that been some sort of warning?

Carolyn didn’t rematerialize now she was alone. She went to the camera and prised it out with her screwdriver, turned it around and pushed it back into the putty. It wasn’t an easy task working invisibly, not for this kind of delicate business. She hoped they’d think it had simply slipped. She would have liked to have destroyed the thing; I’m entitled to a little privacy, aren’t I? but let caution rule.

And what was the deal with taking her clothes? Could they identify her DNA from them? Would it be of any use? Were they even her clothes?

A check of her wrist made her frown before remembering she didn’t wear a watch. There was no need. She didn’t answer to anyone, came and went as she pleased, and fed when she could. No school. No routine. No more real life.

Her sense of removal had helped her cope with her new life, but her psyche had doubtlessly suffered untold damage because of it.

She had proved she was still alive…yes? It was hard to believe that earlier in the day she had bemoaned her pathetic existence. Was that today or yesterday? Really, Carolyn, does it matter? She had an effect on her surroundings. If she moved something, it remained where she put it. If she went out, she could allow people to see her, although generally that wasn’t much of an option.

Invisibility should have been the coolest ability imaginable; she would never have imagined a month ago that she would have needed such a talent to survive in this world.

Chapter 2

Emerging

Her self-analysis came to an abrupt end when the call beckoned with its bittersweet song and forced her tired body into action. As always, she didn’t fight it, and her spirits lifted in response to her calling. Moving swiftly to draw old combats and a hoodie from the suitcase, Carolyn changed, pocketing her screwdriver. Locating spare, semi-dry trainers under the bed, she put them on and tucked their frayed laces down the side. She climbed up the shelving on the side wall, slithered through the cracked basement window, and out into the world beyond.

The call took her into the evening’s salty air, revelling in the feel of the spring breeze in her hair and the earthy scent rising from the damp ground. No-one saw her as she raced through the park and on to the High Road. Slowing enough to wave to a toddler who waved back cheerily from her pram, her parents and older brother looked bemusedly in Carolyn’s direction.

Her discovery had been made early on, that she couldn’t hide from small children. It was some sort of odd glitch that caused Carolyn no real grief.

When she followed the call, it wasn’t a call as such, more an irresistible melodic pull, as though it was a choral magnet and she a metal filing. There was no way to stop when it happened; she had to keep going until she reached her destination, and she didn’t have far to go this time. Occasionally, she had been compelled to move so fast she saw nothing at all of her journey, more than her legs and arms propelling her. It was like being in a jet propelled bubble that sometimes moved faster than any aeroplane could.

Having been called to places she’d only ever seen on television, she believed she’d been as far away as India, but the travelling didn’t impress her. It wasn’t as though she got to hang out at five star hotels and restaurants, maybe see a show or indulge in a spa treatment. She would start being really impressed when she found the blood-red patch that would lead her to her family.

Until then, she’d travel for as long as she was needed. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; she had an idea of what awaited, and it both excited and repulsed her.

Turning into the next street, she saw that she would have to get to the back of the buildings of a new development; something had called a halt to construction, so now the perimeter was surrounded by a high metal fence. She could hardly just go and ask the security guard to open up so took a leap at the railings and managed to gain a hold high up. She climbed the rest of the way until finally balancing her feet between the spikes on top. For a moment, the call surrounded her with its energy, then focused ahead, to the right, apparently at an integral double garage attached to a barely completed bungalow.

She lowered herself and grasped the fence’s spikes before dropping to the ground. A stumble backwards on loose rubble left her no longer impressed by her own acrobatic abilities.

Her focus now clear, she rushed towards the house, into the hallway and through an opening into the garage.

The patch on the wall shone and glistened directly in front of her, although her heart sank when she saw it was not the one she had hoped for.

A shade of red – always a shade of red – this one was very bright, leaning towards orange.

Signs of at least two separate sets of footprints lay on the muddied concrete floor. A faint noise came from the other side of the patch, piquing her interest. She drew out her screwdriver and leapt in.

Having answered the call, her relief far outweighed her discomfort as the heat and thin dry air of the new world enveloped her. She adjusted her breathing to compensate, making it deeper and quicker before levelling it out. The demon before her – and she could only assume that’s what they were – had a young girl pressed up against it, secured by a scaly limb. The girl, dressed in black, curve-hugging clothing, whimpered, burying her face into the demon’s chest. Thick, black, shoulder length hair almost obscured her face. The demon used its free arm, terminating in three smaller projections, to gesticulate towards another dark figure in front of Carolyn, but then it spoke.

She hadn’t known they could speak. Carolyn was stunned. Had she ever let one live long enough to speak?

Thiss one is promissed, Ethanasiuss. The voice was a whispering sick parody of human speech, the soft snakelike tissue at its throat quivering under a triangular reptilian head. The demon stood about seven feet tall – probably nine if it could balance on the tip of its tail. Though snakelike, it had two almost human lower limbs, although these were hair-free, they terminated at broad webbed feet. Mostly brown, but with tinges of yellow, its long legs had a scaly appearance. Stronger yellow tones adorned its throat and belly. The girl it held hid any sign of what its private parts may have looked like.

A red forked tongue slithered out of its wide mouth. The deal wasss fair. Bluish fluid – blood perhaps – ran down the limb holding the girl. Carolyn could smell it. Without looking, she knew the other male was also bleeding. She must have just missed a fight for both males carried the scent of the other’s blood.

And yuck! When did I start being able to smell blood?

Ethanasius? Ethan? Without seeing his face, Carolyn realised that this must be the scarred man. The same man the suits had mentioned earlier. Maybe he wasn’t all bad after all, not if he too was challenging these creatures, and this creature tipped the scale on what constituted kill-worthy.

It was time to follow her call and end the demon’s existence. Her heart raced as she raised her screwdriver, aiming a fatal blow at its throat. Its death would be quick.

She looked into its bright yellow eyes and, without warning, her strength and power drained into the earth at her feet.

What the hell?

The screwdriver slipped through her fingers and fell to the ground, and she stared at it, as though it was somehow to blame. Now unable to move, her bloodlust just simply vanished.

She should be panicking but a deep relaxation claimed her. Why should she worry? Everything was now fine. All would be well.

Something stirred within her, a recognition of sorts, and some kind of understanding hovered on the brink of her mind.

This was wrong. Wrong. WRONG!

She swiftly dropped to the ground, plunging her hands into the dirt at her feet, her fingers stabbing the earth, forcing her power to return. Spurting back in surges, the relief almost reduced her to tears. How could she have allowed this to happen? Could this demon be some sort of psychic leech? Could Ethan? Neither had made a move against her during her struggle. Why was that?

She searched for another threat but saw none.

Ethan looked wary but not entirely unhappy at her being here. Wiping the remnants of a bloodied nose on his sleeve, she noted that it was the familiar red of a human. That had to earn him a small point in his favour.

The demon watched her, clearly curious. Its strange unblinking eyes seemed to burn a coppery yellow as he looked her over. Carolyn shifted her recovered weapon in her hand, reminding herself that this was what she did.

You didn’t need to bring your friend, whined the demon.

Whined? What sort of demon whines?

Ethan raised his arms in a placating manner. Protectorate rules, Notechis, state that your captive can be recovered, without incident, en route to, between, or from habitats or places of any kind.

Sounding for all the world like a policeman, Carolyn instinctively wanted to run.

And ‘Notechis’ for God’s sake. They had names?

The Protectorate have been unable to keep order in the realmss for years, the demon was now saying.

The black-haired girl turned and nodded enthusiastically towards Ethan, as though her own messed up concerns were of any consequence.

Nevertheless, your own Chief signed the agreement.

How many millennia have passed since, eh, warrior?

Yes, yes, very interesting.

What was with all the talking? Carolyn noticed the demon was not actually holding the girl; in fact, the stupid thing seemed to be hanging on to him. The demon then pushed her away enough for Carolyn to get a great shot in, one she just had to go for.

Dagger! Carolyn cried as she threw the screwdriver. It changed shape as it shot through the air towards Notechis’s fleshy throat.

She couldn’t believe how quickly Ethan caught it, mere inches from its target. The demon backed off with a wail, his slit of a mouth gaping open to reveal yellow fangs as Ethan threw her a disparaging look.

What just happened? Why did she suddenly feel relief? That couldn’t be right; she was just so totally messed up. No, not relief but disappointment.

Carolyn shrugged at Ethan’s unspoken criticism. What?

Sshe tried to kill me. Recognition flashed through the demon’s eyes. You brought the desstroyer? His throat’s quivering dance continued to distract her but Carolyn drew her gaze away, avoiding his eyes. Folding her arms defensively, she turned to Ethan. Surely an explanation was due as to why this thieving, murderous creature should still be alive.

She’s new, and…and doesn’t understand the complexities of the realms…not yet anyway, continued Ethan as he glided in front of the girl, towards the patch that led to the garage. Carolyn’s eyes widened at Ethan’s clearly deluded assessment of the situation. Deprived of the action, and having had her weapon confiscated, meant Ethan now had a completely disillusioned and unwilling collaborator on his hands.

Not to worry for she was still far from harmless even now, and so she crouched, ready for another, more personal attack on the demon.

Ethan raised a hand and caught her eye, stopping her before she could pounce. Something within her had somehow recognised his command. He told her to go back through the gateway with the girl before it closed, and to wait for him there.

Not bloody likely…hang on, the patches could close without waiting for you?

For a moment she stared at Ethan, the struggle within her clear on her face. She didn’t know if he was being entirely truthful but felt compelled to obey. A less noble part of her, though, wanted to leave while she still had her abilities.

Disgruntled, she abandoned her quarry, took the girl by the arm and none too gently escorted her back through the patch – only Ethan had called it a gateway.

~***~

The mage stared after the destroyer. For the first time, they had been called to the same gateway. The team had waited a long time for this. Ethan recognised that, horrendous as the destroyer’s appearance was, she was