Hurricane #9: The Tornado (Patreon)

“Wait! Hey!” Serrano started flailing as Sarah’s jaws came down over her, a tongue bigger than her tiny body lifting her up—

The world flashed bright, sizzling white, the sound of an exploding transformer filling her ears. She tumbled back out onto the table and rolled, spluttering, trying to get her bearings. What was she hearing? A crash? Screams?

Sitting up and rubbing her eyes revealed utter chaos. Half of the coffee shop’s front had cracked, like a car had run into it. Or, judging by the hole in the roof, like her giant coyote dream self had stepped on it. But there were little fires, plumes of smoke. “Like…a lightning bolt,” she murmured aloud. She stared dumbly up at the sky. Dark clouds had moved in, silent lightning flashing between them. But there was no rain. Yet.

There definitely was, though, a shocked-looking wolf woman pulling herself out of the rubble, fur smoldering in several spots. Sarah staggered to her paws—plantigrade, Serrano noticed, unusual for canines—and glared up at the sky, then around the coffee shop until her eyes locked onto the still-tiny coyote.

Then she snarled.

“Oh, shit.” Serrano scrambled to the edge of the table, took a deep breath, and jumped to the cushion of the seat below, rolling with a wheeze. She’d just made it back to her paws when Sarah’s fist closed around her and yanked her back up toward the wolf’s muzzle.

“You want to play that way, do you?” Sarah let go—and she stayed floating in the air, inches from the wolf’s angry face. “You’ve picked a magic fight with the wrong Sidhe, little wizard!”

“I don’t know magic I don’t know what just happened I don’t know fucking anything I don’t want to die horribly please stop!” Serrano shrieked.

The wolf stepped back, then thrust both hands forward as if shoving against a boulder.

Serrano might as well have been launched from a cannon. The world blurred, air rushing past so fast she couldn’t catch her breath. She squeezed her eyes shut. At least she’d probably die instantly when she smashed into something in the next second or two.

The sound of the wind changed.

As she tentatively opened one eye, Serrano felt herself slowing. And–turning?

No. Spinning.

“Oh, fuck.” She opened both eyes. Definitely spinning. And climbing. The rising howl of the funnel cloud forming around her drowned out her own yowl.

While her spinning slowed, the surrounding wind rapidly picked up speed. She’d never jumped out of an airplane without a parachute, but she knew in her gut that free-fall felt just like this—except she wasn’t falling. The wind held her aloft as the tornado started moving. Fast. Debris started spinning around her, too, and she cringed in midair. At this size, she basically was debris.

Then she dropped so fast she had no time to brace herself—not that it would have done any good. She didn’t splatter like a bug on a windshield, though; her paws slammed heavily into the ground, bang bang, with a thump and crack louder than the thunder. For a split-second, she had a blurry view she’d seen before: in the dream, as a giant four-pawed coyote towering over a tiny city.

Then the wind died, all at once, and she was sprawled on her back on the ground. Debris rained down on her, and she screamed, covering her head and face, curling up. She could hear the crackling of fire nearby, of water running somewhere. Of much bigger pieces of debris falling.

After another few seconds passed, the rain of little rocks and dust subsided. Nothing damaging had hit her, at least. She sat up. Was she…back to her normal size? Yes. She thought so. Now she could hear sirens, in the distance but getting closer. Maybe she shouldn’t stay here.

Serrano sat up and immediately regretted it, the broken world spinning around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to feel steady.

“What are you?” Sarah’s voice rasped behind her.

Yelping, she whirled around despite the vertigo. The wolf stood there, looking just as unsteady, covered with concrete dust, a bloody gash along one leg. Her expression managed the trick of being both frightened and murderous at the same time.

“I don’t…I didn’t…”

“No! Stop it!” Sarah waved her arms furiously at the scene around them. “You did this! How did you do this?”

Serrano looked around with a growing sense of dread. The tornado had cut a short path through the strip mall, missing the coffee shop but taking out Ned’s car. And other cars. And probably the cop and any remaining bystanders. “I didn’t,” she mumbled. “I…” Her knees grew weak, and she stumbled, staring up at the wolf. “I don’t know what’s happening, I swear.” Her vision started to blur.

Sarah walked forward slowly. “You called lightning down on me when I tried to eat you, then became a tornado and—”

“What are you—the tornado came after me, just like in the library! It came through the portal from your place, from Faerieland!”

Sarah stopped a couple of feet away, studying Serrano through narrowed eyes. “Stand up.”

Serrano shrank back.

“Stand up,” Sarah repeated. “I’m not going to hurt you.” She snorted. “It’s not as if trying has been working very well for me, has it.”

Swallowing, Serrano carefully rose to her paws.

“Look around. Look at the shape of the depression we’re in.”

“I don’t…” She trailed off, looking back and forth. “It’s…like…a paw print.”

“Yes. Your paw print. That cracked part right there is where I was when your paw came down.”

“That’s…not possible.” Serrano shook her head quickly, feeling panic starting to bubble up again. “You’re the magic one, not me!”

“That’s why I’m only bruised all over, not flattened. You have powerful magic, Serrano Layotl. Either you’re lying to me right now, or you’re telling me what you believe is the truth. I’m not sure which is worse.”

Serrano opened her mouth, starting to muster another weak protest. Before she could manage it, the tears she’d been holding back burst out. “What the hell is happening to me!” She covered her face, sobbing.

After a few seconds, she realized Sarah was holding out her hand. She looked at the wolf warily, still sniffling and wiping away tears. “What are you going to try and do to me now?”

“Nothing. If you tell me what you know about what’s happening to you, I’ll answer a few questions you wouldn’t have known to ask.”

“And then do you start trying to kill me again, using whatever I just told you against me?”

Sarah sighed, dropping her hand. “Given that it seems you’re even more of a threat than I already assumed you were, Serrano Layotl, I can’t promise I won’t. But if I were you, I’d take the chance of calling a truce with me rather than going to war with all of Faerie.” She glanced at an approaching fire engine, the lead of a handful of first responders. “And I’d take the opportunity to be elsewhere before your mortal police start looking for the easiest person to blame. In my experience, that’s what they’re best at.”

“You’re not wrong. Okay.” Serrano nodded weakly. “We can go back to my place, I—”

The world spun in a dizzying blur for a split-second, then both of them stood in Serrano’s living room.

“—guess. Holy shit.”

Sarah shrugged, walking over to the folding table Serrano used for dining and taking a seat. She still limped a little, but her leg wound—and the rip in her jeans—had vanished. “I’ve been here once.”

“Right.” Serrano swallowed again and sat down opposite the wolf. “You healed yourself.”

“Yes. Who set the wards on your apartment?”

“The what?”

Sarah looked around, as if studying invisible lines. “They’re not like anything I’ve felt before, though.”

“Three Lords.” She covered her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. As usual.”

“Hmm.” Sarah turned her gaze on Serrano, tilting her head. “We’ll revisit that, perhaps. But tell me your story now.”

She took a deep breath, then gave Sarah a quick sketch of the dreams and the water in the shower, the meeting with the magicians at the college, the mysterious bartender, everything she could.

When she finished, the faerie leaned back, crossing her arms and remaining silent.

“So…?”

Sarah uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “So, I don’t know what to make of you, Serrano Layotl. In your dreams, the power of an ancient storm goddess is being used to attack you, and it has echoes in the waking world. Yet against me in the waking world, the same power is being used to protect you. And in your last dream, you demonstrated you can use that power yourself.”

“I can’t, I swear.” Serrano felt her ears fold back at the thought of Sarah going after her again. Either she’d be wolf food, or a storm would come up and level her whole goddamn apartment. “And please, can’t you just call me Serrano?”

Sarah gave her a level stare. “I could, yes.”

“What about the bartender? Maybe the ward things are hers.”

“They’re not. I’ve been watching you and your growing power long before that evening. As much as you may want to believe a mysterious woman gave you incredible, uncontrollable power on a whim, I believe she just gave you a pep talk and a fruity rum drink.” Sarah sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms again. “Now, Serrano, it’s time for my part of our story trade.”