Phantom Wolf. Bonnie Vanak

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about the driver raised her suspicions.

      When she stepped out, rucksack slung over one shoulder, he drove off slowly. Kelly shivered in the light rain.

      The hallway was long, dark and eerie. Water dripped from a leaky roof. Once the hall had been white, but now paint flaked off like confetti. A woman opened her door, peered out and slammed it shut. Kelly shouldered her pack and stepped into a square courtyard. On each side were two doors leading to apartments. Rain fell steadily onto the stained concrete courtyard. Sagging plants in cracked flowerpots were scattered about the ground in an attempt to provide color. Clothing hung on a wire strung between the two buildings, someone’s laundry forgotten in the rainstorm.

      She went to the turquoise door on the left and knocked softly. Two solid raps, then a succession of three.

      Hilda opened the door.

      Kelly gave the small, dark-haired woman a tight hug. “How is he?”

      Moisture gathered in the woman’s brown eyes. “Holding his own,” she whispered in English. “But you know what will happen…”

      The home was small, with peeling yellow paint. Rain dripped in a steady patter on the tin roof and into a pot near the door as Kelly stepped inside. On a double bed crammed against one faded wall was a man hooked up to a catheter. He was thin and pale, his eyes closed as he rested on a worn pillow.

      She could not heal him. No one could. The knife in her heart twisted with a vicious yank.

      But when Kelly approached the bed, the man opened his eyes. Life flared there, bright and angry and resilient.

      “Fernando,” she said softly, setting down her pack and sitting on the chair by the bedside. She gently took his hand. So thin, the knuckles cracked, the once-strong fingers now weakened from disuse.

      “You came back. I knew you would. Everyone else has forgotten us.”

      “Not forgotten. They’re in hiding. I broke free of the watchdogs.” She gave a little smile, her heart breaking at his pale face, the wasted limbs. “You and Hilda must move to a safer house, a better house.”

      Hilda shook her head. “We cannot risk moving him. And this is our home. Fernando wants to stay here, he wants to…”

      Bleak resignation on her face told her the rest.

      “Enough talk of me.” The man tapped the piece of paper he held in his lap. “Memorize the map. The village is in the south. They mobilized and moved the children and have taken over. My contact said the rogue Arcanes are waiting to siphon the children’s powers.”

      “Waiting for their leader to arrive?”

      “Yes, but Something else, as well. They are planning something bigger, Kelly. Something far more sinister.”

      She didn’t want to imagine the possibilities. “Where is your contact now? Can I meet with him?”

      Shaking his head, he pointed to a newspaper on the bed. The headline blared news about a body found by locals near the capital. Drugs were suspected.

      “They got to Carlos, too,” he said.

      Fernando shifted his legs on the quilt and winced.

      Eight bullets. He’d been taken down by eight bullets, pumped into him by gang members in a “war act.” But it wasn’t a turf war or drugs. The gang had operated under dark enchantment. Fernando had been shot deliberately after he’d located the children. He belonged to her team of Arcane Enchanter Mages operating out of Honduras.

      Kelly squeezed his hand, took the map and committed it to memory. Using the matches Hilda provided, she burned it on the rusty stove that no longer worked. “Go, rescue the children, Kelly. I do not know how much time they have left,” Fernando said, and his voice was strong.

      Tears gathered in Hilda’s eyes. “You’re the only one left who can save them, Kelly.” Hilda glanced at the silver triskele. “You have powers we lack. Make right this wrong before the Elementals judge all Arcanes as guilty and kill us.”

      Hatred punctuated those words. Kelly placed a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. “There are good Elementals. Not all are so unreasonable.”

      The dripping rain slowed and stopped. But a steady tapping came upon the battered roof. Fear flickered across Hilda’s face. She and Fernando glanced upward.

      The sound of claws skittering across a metal roof, accompanied by a distinct, foul smell. Only one creature could emit such a nauseous stench… .

      Kelly’s heart dropped to her stomach. She pointed at the ceiling. “Ilthus,” she whispered.

      Blood drained from Hilda’s face.

      Fingers tight around the triskele pendant, she headed for the door. Hilda grabbed her arm.

      “Don’t go out there. It will kill you,” the terrified woman whispered.

      “I can’t let it get to Fernando.”

      The warped turquoise door creaked as she opened it. Rain dripped on the cracked concrete courtyard, where the soaked wash hung limply on the frayed clothesline. Kelly sang out a chant to gather her powers as she stepped outside.

      A foul stench tainted the air, the smell of sulfur and decay. Gagging, she inched backward, trying to peer onto the roof. The skittering sound stopped.

      Power hummed beneath her trembling hands. Ilthuses were clever and quick, and they could move…

      A harsh screech split the air. As she looked up, a redand-blue-speckled thing launched itself off the roof.

      Scrambling backward, she avoided the daggered claws swiping at her face. Instead, the creature shredded a ragged shirt on the clothesline. The ilthus shrieked again and skittered on all fours. Saliva dripped from its black slit of a mouth.

      It came closer, hissing, its lizardlike pupils contracting as it fixed a stare at Kelly, seeing prey, seeing its target up close. A forked tongue shot out of its mouth.

      The ilthus opened its mouth and hissed. A steady stream of gray mist sprayed out of its mouth, the rotten-egg stench making Kelly’s eyes tear, her vision blur.

      Backing up, she hit a wall. No place to run. Dear gods, I’m going to die from the smell. She blinked hard and focused.

      The door banged open. Hilda came outside, armed with an iron skillet. The brave, crazy woman!

      “Take this, you stinking son of a bitch,” Hilda screamed in Spanish as she threw the skillet.

      It missed the ilthus, but the distraction was enough. The creature stopped spraying.

      “Get back,” Kelly yelled at Hilda.

      Kelly breathed through her mouth and flung out her power at the creature, and then she dived behind a rusty washing machine.

      With a loud shriek, the ilthus exploded, spraying green slime over the walls and the wet laundry.

      Hands shaking, Kelly struggled to her

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