Chapter 13: Fury in the Water
The van’s tires crunched on the crushed shell driveway of Shiv’s beach house, its headlights cutting through the salt-thick dark. Mandy killed the engine. The silence was immediate, broken only by the distant, rhythmic shush of the Atlantic.
“Ben, Bruce,” Mandy said, her voice tight. “Get Rick to the beach house. Check his ribs. Use the medkit under the sink.”
“I’m fine,” Rick protested, but a sharp inhale betrayed him.
“You’re not,” Bruce said, his Scottish brogue firm. He clapped a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “Come on, mate. Let’s get you sorted.”
Ben helped Rick out of the van, throwing a worried glance at Mandy. She gave him a slight, tired nod. Go. She watched the three of them head down the moonlit beach path toward the glowing windows of Judy’s place two houses down.
Then she turned to the others. Mai, still in her torn cocktail dress. Felicity, shivering despite the warm night. Calista, her silver hair almost glowing, expression grim. “Let’s go.”
Shiv’s house was never locked. The door opened to the scent of sandalwood and baking bread. The living room was dark, but soft blue light pulsed from the glass doors leading to the back deck. Through them, they saw the hot tub, its water illuminated by neon-blue bioluminescence, glyphs swirling on the surface.
Beth was in it, her short blonde hair slicked back, her eyes closed. Marty sat beside her, his red hair bright under the light. They were both naked, the water steaming around them. Beth’s shoulder, where the IV had been, showed a faint yellowing bruise.
Mandy slid the door open. The humid, chlorinated air washed over them.
Beth’s eyes opened. They were clear, alert. “Hey,” she said, a lazy smile touching her lips. She took in their disheveled state, the tension in their faces. The smile faded. “How’d it go?”
Mandy stepped onto the deck. “We have to save Howard’s life.”
The words hung in the air. The hum of the hot tub jets seemed to grow louder.
Beth blinked. “What?”
“Before a disgusting old man takes it,” Mandy clarified, her voice flat.
Beth stared. For a second, there was nothing. Then, a shift. A deepening of the lines around her eyes. Her breath, which had been slow and relaxed, hitched. She pushed herself up, water sluicing off her body. She stood in the tub, naked and dripping, completely oblivious to her own nudity.
“Save his life,” she repeated, the words barely a whisper. Then they weren’t a whisper. “Save his life?”
“Beth—” Marty began, reaching for her.
She stepped out of the tub, onto the deck, her body trembling. Not from cold. From a pure, incandescent fury that seemed to radiate from her skin. “He stole Felicity’s work! He used Mai’s body like a fucking puppet! He made me buy those pastries, Mandy! He looked through my eyes, used my hands, and tried to kill me for fun!”
Each accusation was a hammer blow. Felicity flinched. Mai wrapped her arms around herself.
“I was glad,” Beth seethed, taking a step toward Mandy. Water pooled at her feet. “I was happy when I heard he tried to jump into your head and your brain fucking broke him. That he’s lying in some Golden Wand cell drooling into a tube. But you know what? It wasn’t enough. He didn’t suffer enough. And now you want to save him?”
Mandy didn’t back up. “Poole isn’t trying to punish him. He’s trying to wear him. Like a suit. He’s going to push Howard’s mind out and move his own rotten consciousness into that young body. And then he’ll do it again, and again. Howard’s an arrogant prick, but he’s a victim here. Poole is a parasite. He’s worse.”
“I don’t care!” Beth shouted, her voice cracking. “Let the parasite eat the prick!”
“Beth Williamson, that’s enough.”
Shiv’s voice cut through the night from the doorway. She stood there, a robe wrapped around her, her green eyes sharp. She walked onto the deck, her gaze moving from Beth’s shaking form to Mandy’s set face. “The lass is right. This Poole is a greater evil. He doesn’t just harm one person; he consumes lives. Turns people into empty shells for his own use. That’s a line even Howard didn’t cross.”
Beth’s chest heaved. Tears of rage mixed with the hot tub water on her cheeks. She looked from Shiv to Mandy, the fight slowly draining from her shoulders, replaced by a weary, bitter acceptance. “Fine,” she spat. “Fine. We save the shithead. But I’m there. When it’s done, when Poole is handled, I get to be in the room when someone tells Howard what he was saved from. I want to see his face.”
Mandy nodded. “Deal.”
“But we have to get to him first,” Felicity interjected, her scholarly mind clicking into gear despite the emotional turmoil. “He’s in a Wand facility. Secure. But Poole has access to the black market through The Palm & Eye. Artifacts, breach tools… he could get in.”
“Then we need to slow Poole down,” Mai said, tugging at her torn dress. “Create a diversion. Something big and messy.”
Calista had been quiet, her elven eyes watching the exchange. Now she stepped forward and placed a cool hand on Mandy’s shoulder. “I know what to do.” She pulled out her phone.
Across town, in the sleek, minimalist expanse of Stacy’s new condo, the air was thick with a different kind of heat. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed a glittering panorama of downtown Miami, but no one was looking.
Mike was sprawled on a low, wide divan, his head thrown back. Judy knelt between his legs, her blonde hair swaying as she took his thick cock deep into her throat, gagging slightly before relaxing into a smooth, hungry rhythm. Her lips were stretched tight around his girth, saliva glistening down his shaft.
“Oh, fuck, Jude,” Mike groaned, his hands fisting in her hair.
On the other side of the divan, Casey lay on her back, legs spread and hooked over Stacy’s shoulders. Stacy’s face was buried between Casey’s thighs, her tongue working in firm, flat strokes over Casey’s clit before plunging deep inside her. Casey’s back was arched, one hand clutching Stacy’s silver-streaked hair, the other kneading her own breast.
“Right there, Stacy, god, yes… just like that…” Casey gasped, her hips bucking.
The room smelled of sex, of perfume and sweat. Judy’s moans around Mike’s cock were a low, constant vibration. Stacy’s fingers joined her tongue, pushing two deep into Casey’s soaking cunt, curling up to find that spot that made Casey cry out.
Casey’s phone, discarded on a side table, buzzed and lit up. The ringtone was the opening bars of an old pop song.
Casey tapped Stacy’s shoulder. “That’ll be Mandy,” she said, her voice breathless but matter-of-fact.
The sexual rhythm fractured. Stacy lifted her head, her chin gleaming. Judy popped off Mike’s cock with a wet sound, looking annoyed. “Really? Now?”
“Priorities,” Casey said, sitting up. She glanced at Mike. “Remember, act surprised they were distracting us.”
Mike, still catching his breath, managed a nod. “Right. Totally fooled.”
Judy’s eyes went wide. “Wait… you knew?”
Stacy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a smirk forming. “Of course they knew. Mike and Casey are incredibly hard to distract. But,” she added, shooting a grin at Casey, “at least the sex was great.”
“Shush,” Casey said, but she was smiling too. She grabbed the phone and hit the speaker button. “Hey, Bug.”
There was a hesitation on the line. Then Mandy’s voice, uncharacteristically hesitant, filled the room. “Mom. Dad. I… need your help.”
Mike sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
“We need you to keep a bad guy busy. While we go find another… not-as-bad guy.” A long sigh crackled through the speaker. “You’re the best in the business at slowing people down.”
Mike and Casey exchanged a look. A real one, no pretense. “Are you sure you need us?” Mike asked, his voice soft.
Another pause. Longer this time. Then, clear and certain: “Yes.”
Casey’s expression settled into one of focused calm. “Okay. Give us an address. We’ll be annoying.”
“It’s what we’re good at,” Mike said.
“Is there anything I can do?” Stacy asked, leaning toward the phone.
Mandy’s voice came back, even more reluctant. “Rick got hurt. At the boutique. Maybe some cracked ribs. He’s back at Judy’s beach house with Ben and Bruce…”
She didn’t get to finish.
Stacy was moving before the last word was out. She was off the floor, grabbing her clothes from a chair, her body moving with a deadly, efficient grace that had nothing to do with the languid pleasure of moments before.
“Where are you going?” Judy asked, stunned.
“My boyfriend’s hurt,” Stacy said, pulling on her pants. She didn’t look up. “The rest is your department.” She snatched her keys and her small purse—which they all knew contained a 9mm—and was at the door in seconds.
The condo door hissed open and slammed shut.
Silence descended, broken only by the faint hum of the city through the glass. Mike, Casey, and Judy were left in the aftermath, the ghost of passion still hanging in the air, now underscored by a sharp, new urgency.
Casey looked at the phone, then at Mike. “Okay,” she said, her voice all business. “Let’s go be distracting.”
“Let’s go be distracting.”
Judy’s sleek electric sedan glided to a silent stop half a block from The Palm & Eye. The boutique’s door was visible now, a slab of dark oak glowing with subtle runes under the streetlights, an open invitation. A violation of its own security.
“They’re bleeding magic,” Casey observed, peering through the windshield. “Mandy’s hack must have fried their protocols on the way out.”
Three figures emerged from the glowing doorway. Alistair Poole led, his suit immaculate, his face a mask of cold fury. Four hulking shapes flanked him, their features blurred by tactical helmets, pulse-rifles held at ready angles. They moved toward a long, black vehicle idling at the curb.
“He’s leaving now,” Judy whispered, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Plan?” Casey asked, not taking her eyes off the scene.
“Nope,” Mike said, popping the ‘p’. He unbuckled his seatbelt. “Just do what we do. Judy, follow our lead. Be nervous. It’ll sell it.”
“Being nervous won’t be a problem,” Judy breathed.
They exited the car. Mike ambled, hands in his pockets. Casey walked with a deliberate, easy stride. Judy hovered a half-step behind, wringing her hands. They intercepted Poole just as his hand reached for the car door.
Mike cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Poole? Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you’d have a moment to consider a donation to the local chapter of the Polygamists Association? We’re trying to build a new community center.”
Poole stopped. He turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over them with dismissive irritation. It lingered on Judy’s anxious, made-up face, then flicked to Casey and back to Mike. “I have no time to deal with some man and his two subordinates,” he said, his voice like grating stone.
Casey smiled, a bright, warm thing. “Oh, he’s not the head of household. I am. These two are married to me.” She hooked a thumb at Mike and Judy.
Mike nodded with earnest vigor. “I do everything the prime wife tells me to.” He looked at Judy, his expression pleading. “You agree, don’t you, honey? As the secondary spouse?”
Judy blinked, swallowed, and managed a tight, “Yes.”
Poole’s brow furrowed. His eyes, still flickering with residual green energy, narrowed as he scrutinized Casey and Judy. The family resemblance was undeniable—the same dark eyes, the same stubborn set of the jaw. “You two,” he said slowly. “Are you related?”
“Yeah, we’re married,” Casey said cheerfully, as if explaining the sky was blue.
“That is not what I meant,” Poole hissed, patience evaporating.
“It’s a beautiful, complex family structure,” Mike interjected, stepping slightly forward. “Really promotes harmony. And handy for moving furniture. The more the merrier, you know?”
One of the armored goons shifted his weight, the servos in his suit whining. Poole held up a hand, silencing him. He was studying them now, not as a threat, but as a bizarre curiosity slowing his critical timeline. “I am attempting to conduct urgent business,” he said, each word clipped. “Your… domestic arrangements are of no interest. Move.”
“But the community center,” Mike persisted, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. “We have blueprints. They’re mostly drawn on napkins, but the vision is there. We could really use a patron of the arts. And other things. Mostly the arts.”
Across the city, in a nondescript industrial park that smelled of ozone and damp concrete, Mandy’s van sat alongside two other vehicles. One was a standard-issue Golden Wand sedan, charcoal gray. The other was a cherry-red vintage motorcycle with a sidecar.
The facility was a low, windowless bunker marked only as “Aethelstan Engineering.” A single reinforced door gleamed under harsh security lights.
Mandy leaned against the van’s fender, her tablet in hand. “Jeeves, you’re patched into their external grid?”
“I am, Miss Mandy. Their systems are… curiously relaxed. As if expecting approved visitors.”
“That’s not good,” Felicity muttered, clutching her folio to her chest.
Headlights swept across the lot. The Wand sedan’s door opened, and Agent Kay unfolded herself from the driver’s seat. She was in full field suit, charcoal gray and impeccably tailored, her dark hair pulled into a severe bun. Her eyes, however, were wide with a fangirl’s gleam as she took in the group.
“Mandy Williamson,” Kay said, her professional demeanor cracking into a grin. “And Calista! I didn't know you were in town!. And Beth! I just saw your series on the Key West ghost orchids. It made me cry.” Her gaze swept past Mai and Felicity, finally landing on Shiv and Marty. The grin faltered, replaced by pure, professional awe. “Ma’am. I’ve read your file. It’s… largely redacted.”
Shiv gave a small, acknowledging nod. “Where’s Howard?”
“Secure holding, level two sub-basement. Bio-magical stasis pod.” Kay’s eyes flicked back to Mandy, and the enthusiasm dimmed, replaced by a cooler, more analytical look. “Your tip about Poole checks out. He has shell companies that have submitted three access bids for ‘anthropomorphic vessels’ in the last week. The duty logs show he was denied, but…”
“But he’s not a man who takes ‘no’ for an answer,” Mai finished.
The roar of an approaching engine cut her off. The red motorcycle skidded to a stop, kicking up gravel. Maryam Powers swung off the bike, her enchanted Louisville Slugger slung over her shoulder. Kim followed, graceful and calm, her hands already shimmering with subtle green energy.
“Mandy!” Maryam called, striding over. “Heard there’s a party. Something about saving a dickhead?”
“That’s the gist,” Mandy said. She then looked past them, to where Beth, now dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, stood with Marty and Shiv. Their postures were identical: immovable. “You’re sure?” Mandy asked.
Beth’s jaw was set. “I’m sure.”
Mandy held her sister’s gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. “Couldn’t stop you if I wanted to. That’s the Kapowski in you.”
A scream tore through the night, shredding the tense quiet.
The scream didn’t originate from a human throat. It seemed to pour from the vents, the cracks in the concrete, from the very air itself—a guttural, rustling sound of hundreds of dry, syncopated whispers.
From the shadows between the warehouses, they poured forth. They were humanoid, but blank. Their faces were smooth, featureless ovals of pale flesh. They moved with a horrible, jerking unity, their limbs twitching as if pulled by unseen strings. There were dozens. They carried no weapons. Their hands ended in blunt, seeking nubs.
“What the fuck are those?” Maryam yelled, hefting her bat.
“The inventory!” Felicity gasped, horror dawning. “Lysander’s inventory. The people Poole stole! He’s not trying to sneak in. He’s sending them in to smash the place apart!”
The faceless mob lurched forward, a tide of silent, desperate flesh.
At the same moment, Kay’s wand communicator crackled. “Kay, perimeter breach! Multiple bio-signatures, no magical signatures—they’re reading as empty! They’re just walking through the neutralization fields!”
Kay swore, drawing a sleek, wand-like device from her hip. “He’s using hollowed-out people as magical blanks. No will to resist, no aura to trigger defenses. They’re battering rams.”
The first of the faceless creatures reached the perimeter fence. It didn’t climb. It simply pressed against the chain links, and more piled behind it, a silent, pushing wave. The metal shrieked.
“Plan?” Kim shouted, magic curling around her sword.
Mandy’s mind raced, her eyes darting from the advancing mob to the sealed door of the facility. Poole was assaulting the front to cover his own, quieter entry elsewhere. Or as a distraction from the distraction her parents were providing.
“Kay, get your people to hold the door! Kim, Maryam, thin the herd! Calista, fire wall at the fence line! The rest of us,” she yelled, grabbing Felicity’s arm and making for the reinforced entrance, “we’re going in! We get to Howard first! Cal, you follow!”
The night erupted. Blue elven fire sheeted across the parking lot, meeting the press of blank flesh with a sizzling roar. Maryam's bat connected with a sickening crunch, sending a faceless form flying. Kim's hands wove in the air, and vines of pure green force erupted from the asphalt, tangling limbs.
As Mandy slapped a decryption patch from her tablet onto the facility door’s reader, she heard Beth, right behind her, gun in hand, mutter, “You owe me for this, Howard. You owe me so fucking much.”
The door hissed open, revealing a sterile, bright hallway. The screams of the faceless followed them inside, a chilling chorus to their desperate race against the clock.
Back at The Palm & Eye, Mike was now holding up a crumpled napkin with a lopsided square drawn on it. “…and this is the envisioned meditation yurt. For spousal conflict resolution.”
Poole stared at him. The green light in his eyes flared, a pulse of pure, psychic irritation. Mike felt it like a static shock against his teeth, but he just blinked, his pleasantly awkward smile never wavering.
“You are deliberately impeding me,” Poole stated, the air around him growing colder.
“Impede is such a strong word,” Casey chimed in, stepping closer to Judy, a united front. “We’re engaging. Community outreach. You look like a man who could use more community. Or more wives. Judy, here, was very straight-laced before she joined our family. Weren’t you, Jude?”
“Very,” Judy squeaked, her eyes darting to the goons’ rifles.
Poole’s gaze snapped to a device on his wrist, a sleek screen that flashed once. He saw the alert. The assault had begun at the facility. A faint, cruel smile touched his lips. The distraction in front of him was just that—a pathetic, mundane distraction. These fools knew nothing.
“Enjoy your yurt,” Poole sneered, turning his back on them utterly. He yanked the car door open. “Dispose of them if they follow.”
He slid into the vehicle. The four armored guards turned in unison, their rifles rising, not to fire, but to intimidate, to herd.
Mike, Casey, and Judy took a synchronized step back, hands raised in a ‘no trouble’ gesture. The black car pulled away, smooth and silent, disappearing into the flow of traffic.
The guards backed toward a second vehicle, their weapons still trained, before climbing in and speeding off.
The street was quiet again.
Judy let out a shuddering breath she’d been holding for an eternity. “Did that work? He just left.”
Mike’s faux-awkward demeanor vanished, his expression turning sharp as he watched the taillights disappear. “He took the bait. We were too silly to be a real threat. He thinks we’re just noise.” He pulled out his phone, typing a quick text to Mandy: Poole en route. Confident. You have a window.
Casey slung an arm around Judy’s shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You were great. Perfectly nervous secondary spouse.”
Judy leaned into her sister, a real smile breaking through. “What now?”
“Now,” Casey said, her eyes following the route Poole’s car had taken, “we follow. From a distance. In case the window slams shut.”
Inside the Aethelstan facility, the sterile silence was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. The hallway ended at a security elevator. Kay slapped her palm against a reader, which flashed green.
“Sub-basement two,” she said. The doors closed.
The descent was swift. The doors opened onto a clinical, blue-lit observation room. One wall was transparent crystal, looking into a larger medical bay. In its center, on a raised slab, lay Howard Theramore.
He was encased in a clear, viscous gel within a pod, wires and tubes snaking into his nostrils, his veins. His handsome face was slack, eyes closed. A screen above him displayed faint, erratic brainwave patterns.
“Bio-stasis,” Kay said, moving to a console. “Keeping his body alive while his mind is… adrift. The anchor trap in Mandy’s head burned his psychic connection out. There’s nothing piloting the ship.”
“So Poole just needs to sit in the captain’s chair,” Mai whispered, pressing a hand to the crystal.
A thunderous boom echoed from far above them. The lights flickered. Dust sifted from the ceiling panels.
“They’re inside,” Shiv stated, her voice calm. She stood near the door, her posture relaxed but ready.
“I’ve sealed this elevator,” Kay said, her fingers flying over the console. “But there are maintenance conduits. Atmospheric systems. If he hollowed those people out, he could send them through the vents, anywhere.”
Another impact, closer this time. A dent appeared in the heavy elevator doors across the room.
Felicity stared at Howard’s prone form, her academic rival, the source of so much fear and anger. Now just a vacant vessel. “How do we protect a coma patient from a body-snatching sorcerer?”
Mandy wasn’t looking at Howard. She was studying the pod itself, its interfaces. “We don’t protect him,” she said, her smirk returning, a spark of her old fire. “We move him. Jeeves, can you interface with this life-support system? Can we make it… portable?”
“The systems are archaic but robust. A mobile power source would be required. The van’s upgraded fusion cell could sustain it for approximately forty-seven minutes.”
“Do it.” Mandy turned to Kay. “Open the pod. Gently. We’re taking him for a ride.”
Beth stepped up to the crystal wall, her gun lowered. She watched the medical drones, directed by Jeeves’s tiny arms, begin the delicate process of decanting Howard from the gel, transferring him to a floating gurney that connected to a portable life-support unit. Her face was unreadable.
“You okay?” Marty asked softly, touching her elbow.
“No,” Beth said, her voice hollow. “But I will be when he wakes up and I get to tell him he was rescued by the family of the girl he tried to murder.” She looked at Mandy. “Let’s get this asshole out of here.”
A final, deafening crash shook the room. The elevator doors groaned, buckling inward. Through the gap, a smooth, featureless face peered in, then another, pushing silently, insistently against the metal.
“Time’s up!” Kim yelled, her voice echoing from the speaker in Kay’s comms. “We’re falling back to the inner hallway! There’s too many of these fucking things!”
Shiv moved. She didn’t run. She simply walked to the buckled doors and placed a single, open palm against the metal. A word, ancient and guttural, spilled from her lips. The metal didn’t just seal; it fused, melting and reforming into a solid, seamless wall with a sound like a closing tomb.
“That will hold,” she said, turning back. “For a time. Not against whatever Poole himself brings.”
The gurney hovered, Howard secure, the life-support unit humming. A new display lit up on Mandy’s tablet—a schematic of the facility’s underground utility tunnels.
“There’s a service access two rooms over,” Kay said, checking her own device. “Leads to a drainage tunnel that empties half a mile from here. It’ll be tight.”
“Then we stop talking,” Calista said, her hands still flickering with spent embers. She moved to the sealed door Shiv had created. “I’ll make us a new exit.”
She took a deep breath, and placed her palms on the interior wall beside the sealed elevator. The concrete began to glow orange, then white, melting away like wax to reveal a corridor beyond, filled with steam pipes and conduit.
The path was open. The faceless pressed against other walls, their silent pounding a distant, persistent drumbeat.
Mandy looked at the floating gurney, at Howard’s empty shell, then at her friends—bloodied, determined, scared. “Everyone ready for a field trip?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She led the way into the hot, dark steam of the service tunnel, the group funneling in behind the floating pod, leaving the sealed room and its silent besiegers behind. The race was now a pursuit through the city’s guts, with the most unlikely cargo in tow.