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“…a fast-paced, haunting tale of unforgettable drama…”

“……not just for fans of the urban fantasy/paranormal genres…”

an excerpt from

Atticus for the Undead

by John Abramowitz

 

Chapter 5

Sabrina’s impromptu display of magical ability put an abrupt end to the gala. The museum staff quickly announced that it was closing early and herded the patrons out into the parking lot. Hunter had intended to leave immediately, but catching sight of Sabrina’s terrified face convinced him to stay with her in the parking lot while they waited for the police to arrive. Though he found the girl annoying, he knew that it was difficult for anyone to come to grips with their new life as an arcane, and she didn’t need to face a prosecution on top of everything else. Kirsten, who felt her evening had been quite exciting enough already, opted to take a cab home.

The police arrived ten minutes later, and Hunter found it relatively simple to convince them that there were probably better uses for police time than prosecuting a seventeen year old girl over a momentary loss of control. Sabrina, still looking stricken, heaved a great sigh of relief and threw her arms around Hunter, catching him off guard. He’d never seen Sabrina be affectionate before — but then, he’d never seen her terrified before, either. Hunter did notice that, throughout the process, Mr. Orr stood several yards away, his back against a wall, watching them with a stern expression.

—

With all the activity, Hunter did not get home until almost midnight, and when he did, he promptly fell into bed. Given that Hunter tended to be an early riser, he was still quite tired when he showed up at work the next morning. “Hey, Kirsten,” he called, waving to her as he passed her office.

“Morning, Hunter,” she called back.

He dropped a stack of papers for an upcoming case onto his desk, then turned and walked back toward Kirsten’s office. “So,” he began, standing in her doorway, “hopefully most of our nights won’t be that interesting, huh?”

Kirsten’s lips quirked upward in a smile. “That would be nice,” she answered. “You clear things up for Sabrina?”

“Yeah, I convinced the police not to press charges. I felt bad for her,” Hunter said. “Nobody deserves to go to jail for doing something they didn’t even know they could do.”

Kirsten nodded. “Yeah.” And then a thought struck her, and with a playful grin on her face, she continued, “Just think, Hunter. Now she may become a regular client.”

Hunter looked alarmed at the prospect. “Oh God, I hope not.”

“Well, you are an arcane defense lawyer.” She grinned.

“Yes, I am, but that woman isn’t just an arcane. She’s also really damn annoying. I’d be just fine never having to see her again as long as I live.” As Hunter spoke, he could hear the door behind him open, and he saw Kirsten cover her mouth to stifle a giggle. “What?” he asked, unaware he’d said anything funny.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get your wish on that one,” Kirsten answered, pointing to something beyond Hunter. Hunter turned to see what she was talking about.

In the doorway stood Sabrina Orr, tear tracks streaking down her face.

—

“The whole way home he wouldn’t even talk to me,” Sabrina explained as she, Hunter, and Kirsten sat around the conference room table in the law office. Sabrina was visibly distraught, and Kirsten left the conference room for a moment to find her a Kleenex box. Sabrina accepted it gratefully, grabbing a tissue and blowing her nose before continuing. “He just had this … this horrible expression on his face.

Hunter nodded, his expression thoughtful. “What happened after you got home?” He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“He … he made me sit at the kitchen table while he went and got Mom. It was a few minutes before he came back — I guess he was telling her what had happened, or whatever. Anyway, he came back with Mom, who looked like I’d just killed her pet dog or something. And he started saying all these … these terrible things.”

“Like what?” Hunter asked.

“He — he said he couldn’t even stand to look at me anymore,” Sabrina told him, visibly forcing herself to keep talking, “that he’d never been so ashamed of anyone in his life. He said if he’d known what I was gonna turn out to be, he would have encouraged Mom to —” She stopped there as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

Hunter didn’t know what Sabrina had been about to say, and was about to ask when Kirsten supplied the next word for him. “Abort.”

Sabrina nodded, rubbing at her eyes. “He even tore up some pictures of us together.”

“And then he threw you out of the house?” Hunter asked, and Sabrina nodded again.

“Your mom didn’t stop him?” Kirsten sounded nearly as horrified as Hunter felt

Sabrina shook her head. “Not a word. She just stood there next to him.”

“What would you like us to do?” Hunter regarded her evenly.

“I — I don’t even know,” Sabrina answered. “I just — I couldn’t think where else to go.”

Something occurred to Kirsten. “Where did you sleep last night, Sabrina?”

“Best friend’s,” Sabrina answered. “But that family’s got three kids and there’s no room for me. I can’t stay there again.”

“Well, you’re seventeen, right? We could go to family court — you’re not eighteen, so your dad still has a legal obligation to support you.”

Sabrina’s expression grew terrified at the thought of being sent back home, and Hunter saw it. “Kirsten?”

“Hm?” She turned to face him.

“Can I talk to you in my office, please?”

For a moment, Kirsten looked back and forth between Hunter and Sabrina, as if she was reluctant to leave the younger woman by herself. Then, finally, she nodded, said, “Sure,” and followed Hunter out of the room.

“I think one of us should take her in for a while,” Hunter told Kirsten when they reached his office. “I nominate you.”

Kirsten’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got a spare bedroom at your apartment, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to —”

“Why not?” Hunter knew he was pressing, but the terror on Sabrina’s face had left a lasting imprint on his mind. “She’s not our client anymore, we won’t get in any trouble if we give her a hand.”

“She might be our client if we’re going to family court on her behalf,” Kirsten pointed out.

“Did you see her face in there?” Hunter asked, giving his colleague a meaningful look. “She’s terrified of being sent home. Besides, even if we got the court to order her parents to take her back, who’s to say they wouldn’t just kick her out again a week later? Or she could run away.”

“Believe me, I feel for her, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be taking on a roommate right now,” Kirsten said.

“Why not?” Hunter raised an eyebrow at her.

“Remember the part from last night about how I’m not good with people?” Kirsten asked.

“So it’ll be another learning experience,” Hunter smiled wryly.

“Don’t you think I should learn with someone a little less … umm … obnoxious?”

“Think of it this way,” Hunter responded. “If you can learn to deal with her comfortably, then all the people who don’t have heads the size of Texas? They’ll be a cinch.”

Kirsten chuckled, but she still didn’t seem quite convinced. “Why don’t you do it?”

“Because you’re a girl,” he said.

Kirsten stiffened and put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, easy, easy!” Hunter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just meant that she’d probably be more comfortable with you, that’s all.”

“And also, you don’t like her,” Kirsten added.

“That has nothing to do with it.”

Kirsten shot him a disbelieving glare.

“Well, okay, maybe that has a little bit to do with it,” Hunter conceded. “Look, I can’t make you do this, obviously — it’s well outside the bounds of your job description. But —”

“No,” Kirsten shook her head. “I’ll do it. For a little while, at least. But can I ask you a question, Hunter?”

Hunter’s expression invited her to do so.

“Why is this so important to you?” she said. “You just said you don’t like her much, and it’s not like she’s the only homeless arcane out there ….”

For a moment, Hunter considered telling her that he wanted to help Sabrina out of his own sense of good fortune. That he wanted to do it because, much as he and his father locked horns, he had never for a moment wondered if he might end up on the street, unsure where he would sleep or what he would eat that night. What he actually said, however, was, “There are a lot of homeless arcanes out there, you’re right. But we’re lawyers. We take the case in front of us.” Then he turned, and headed back toward the conference room.

“All right, Sabrina, tell you what,” Hunter said as he pushed open the conference room door. Her eyes fixed on him. “Kirsten’s agreed to let you stay with her for a little bit, just until we can find something more permanent for you. Okay?”

Sabrina’s face immediately filled with relief and gratitude. Then she frowned. “I — I don’t think I can impose on you that way.”

Hunter regarded her skeptically. “Would you rather sleep in the street?”

“No, of course not,” Sabrina said in a rush, “but … I wasn’t raised to be a freeloader. You carry your own weight, I was taught.”

“Well, I have a few succinct opinions right now about how your parents raised you, but that’s for another time,” Hunter said. “For now, let’s focus on getting you out of the ranks of the homeless.”

Sabrina nodded, but she still looked uneasy.

Hunter thought for a long moment. “Well, I’m sure Kirsten would appreciate any help you felt like giving her with keeping the place clean.”

“Or she could work here,” Kirsten said.

Hunter whirled around so quickly he almost fell down. “What?” he asked, eyes wide.

“She could work here,” Kirsten repeated, “for a few hours every day after school. Her salary could go to help with my rent.”

“I, uh —” Hunter squirmed, “I’m not sure this is the best time to be taking on a new person ….”

“Think of it as a learning experience,” Kirsten said icily, giving him a significant look.

Hunter gave her an answering look that suggested he was contemplating the most painful method by which to kill her, but pressed his lips together and turned back to Sabrina. “This sound like a plan to you?”

Sabina nodded. “I could handle doing that. Not like homework takes up very much time.” Her tone gave a clear idea of how challenging she found her homework.

“All right. You know anything about legal stuff?” Hunter asked.

Sabrina shrugged. “I was cast as Demi Moore’s character in a production of A Few Good Men once.”

Hunter sighed again. “I can see this is going to go brilliantly. Okay, we’ll give you the tour of the office today, and you can start tomorrow after school’s out. All right?”

Sabrina nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” The gratitude in her eyes seemed entirely sincere.

“Don’t mention it,” Hunter answered. Mentally, he added: Please. Ever again.

—

It was after dark when Kirsten pulled her car onto the street where she lived, Sabrina in the seat next to her. She slowed down as she passed her apartment complex, and swore under her breath. Sabrina turned to her. “What’s wrong?”

“No parking,” Kirsten muttered. As usual.

Sabrina looked out the window. “Is this where you live?” she asked.

Kirsten nodded. “That apartment complex right there.” She pointed to a brightly lit high-rise apartment complex. Sabrina gave her a surprised look. “What?”

“Well, it’s just, from dealing with Mr. Gamble, I expected you’d be more … .”

“What?” Kirsten arched an eyebrow at Sabrina.

“Poor,” Sabrina said candidly, without embarrassment.

Nothing fazes her, does it? “You don’t think Hunter’s a good lawyer?” Kirsten asked, resisting the urge to point out that it was rude to imply that the person who’d just taken you in was not professionally successful.

Sabrina shrugged. “He’s all right, I guess. He handled my case okay. But he … I guess he doesn’t seem to take it very seriously.”

Now Kirsten was the surprised one. “What makes you say that?” she asked, pulling into a parking space several blocks from her apartment building. The meters didn’t run this late, so she didn’t need to worry about getting a parking ticket.

“Well, like, the first time I met him,” Sabrina said, “he showed up dressed in clothes like you’re wearing now.” She pointed to Kirsten’s green Tulane sweatshirt. “He looked more like one of my dad’s poker buddies than a successful attorney.”

Kirsten laughed knowingly. “Yeah, that’s Hunter. He hates dressing up — or anything else that smacks of taking himself too seriously.”

“Doesn’t that cost him clients?”

Kirsten raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. Why would it?”

“Appearance is three fourths of reality. That’s something my Dad always —” she broke off, her expression growing somber for a moment. “Anyway, don’t they end up thinking he’s a … well, a slob, and leave?”

“A few of them might,” Kirsten said, “but you don’t have to know Hunter long to see that while he may not take himself very seriously, he takes his clients’ lives and rights very seriously. This job is like a mission to him, or a crusade, and most of them find out pretty quickly that they’ll never find a more dedicated or harder-working lawyer.”

Sabrina regarded Kirsten closely enough that she began to feel uncomfortable. “You certainly think highly of him,” she commented.

Oh boy. This conversation was rapidly heading in a direction that Kirsten didn’t like. She shrugged, hoping casual indifference would make Sabrina lose interest in the subject “He’s my first employer,” she said. “He gave me my start. Come on, let’s get your bag out of the trunk.”

She got out of the car without giving Sabrina the chance to say another word. She walked to her trunk, popped it open and slung Sabrina’s duffel bag over her shoulder. Inside, according to Sabrina, was everything the young woman had been allowed to pack before her parents had thrown her out. It was surprisingly light.

“Come on,” she said, beckoning the younger woman to get out of the car and follow.

Kirsten didn’t initially give much thought to the two large men in hooded sweatshirts that approached them as they walked, coming from the opposite direction. It was quite common in Austin for people to walk the streets long after the sun set, especially when the university was in session. But when one of them catcalled, “Look at the little witchy!” from two blocks away, Kirsten took notice.

“Where’s your pointy hat?” crowed the other one.

Kirsten didn’t look at Sabrina as she whispered, “Just walk on past them.”

Sabrina’s face showed the barest traces of fear, but she nodded, pressing forward. She and Kirsten walked side by side, acting as if they hadn’t even heard the calls. But when they were within arm’s reach, the man on the left reached out suddenly, grabbing Sabrina by the forearms. “Now,” he said, voice frighteningly calm, and slammed her roughly against the wall of the nearest building. “Let’s see if witches squeal when they die.”

Sabrina cried out as her back hit the wall. Her eyes went wide, and she trembled slightly in her attacker’s grasp.

“Let her GO!” Kirsten shrieked, taking a defiant step toward Sabrina’s attackers as the wheels in her brain turned furiously. Adrenaline coursed through her as her survival instinct screamed at her to run away, far away, as fast as she could. She forced herself not to listen.

The other man tsked at Kirsten, wagging his finger at her. “Now, now, honey, no need for you to get involved.” A combination of the hood over the man’s head and the night sky made his face invisible, but somehow, Kirsten could tell he was smirking. “This is between us and the little witch over there — unless you guys travel in packs?”

The man holding Sabrina snarled, pulled back one arm, and before Kirsten could even react, punched Sabrina in the gut. “Dirty little whore.” She doubled over, and he spat in her hair. “Freaks like you got no place in this world!”

“Stop it!” Kirsten grabbed the man’s arm at the elbow as he pulled it back to punch Sabrina again. The man threw Kirsten backward, and she landed on the concrete as Sabrina took advantage of the distraction to claw free of him and scurry away.

“You stickin’ up for this freak show?” asked the man Kirsten had just attacked as he rounded on her, radiating menace. “The hell kinda traitor are you?”

The other man stalked toward Kirsten. “I’ll take care of ‘er.” He drew a pocketknife A knot formed painfully in Kirsten’s gut, and Sabrina looked almost nauseous. The man stopped in front of Kirsten, leaning downward and thrusting the knife toward Kirsten, not even particularly aiming, but simply trying to hit any part of her that he could. And as he did, she let her reflexes take over, her leg lashing out and striking at her would-be assailant.

Kirsten was aiming for his crotch — the classic move — but she missed, striking him in the gut instead. He still doubled over, his pocket knife clattering to the concrete as his hands flew involuntarily to his gut. As he gasped, trying to recover the wind her kick had knocked out of him, Kirsten screamed “Go!”, shooting a desperate look at Sabrina, who needed no telling twice. Sabrina took off running toward Kirsten’s apartment building, and Kirsten quickly scooped up the fallen pocket knife and followed.

“Come on!” Kirsten heard one of the men scream. “You wanna get aced by a goddamn witch? We gotta finish this!” She didn’t even look behind her, just continued to run, picking up speed.

Sabrina reached the front door of Kirsten’s building first, and made no attempt at subtlety, flinging the door open and running through it to the elevator. “Which floor are you on??” Sabrina called desperately to Kirsten, her finger jabbing the “up” button repeatedly.

“The fifth!” When no elevator had arrived by the time she reached Sabrina, Kirsten grabbed the younger woman by one arm and took off for the stairs. Their pursuers couldn’t be far behind.

Sure enough, one of the men called out “There they are!” a moment later.

Kirsten and Sabrina scrambled down a side hallway, flinging open the door at the end of it. Sabrina bounded effortlessly up the stairs, but somewhere in the run, Kirsten’s shoelace had come untied. She tripped and fell forward, dropping the pocket knife as her face impacted painfully against the stairs. Before she had a chance to pick herself up, she felt hands grabbing her arms, hauling her to her feet, pressing her roughly against the wall.

One of the hooded goons picked up the knife she’d dropped while the other held an identical weapon mere inches from her stomach. In the light, with him standing this close to her, Kirsten could see white skin, stubble, cold grey eyes. His companion joined him, holding his own knife in a threatening gesture toward Kirsten, leering at her beneath his hood.

“Where the hell do race traitor rats like you get off, sidin’ with unnatural scum against your own kind?”

“For all you know I’m one of them,” Kirsten answered, voice trembling in a way she was sure her attackers could hear. “I’m a witch just like her. I’ll cast a spell on you!”

“Uh huh,” said the man, his tone making clear exactly how seriously he took that threat. He moved closer to her, leaving their bodies only centimeters apart, and she could feel the edge of his knife against her sweatshirt. “Well, why don’t you do it, then?” he taunted. “Go on, hex us.”

A moment passed in silence. Nothing happened. They’d called her bluff, and she knew it. “Only question to me,” sneered the other man, looking Kirsten up and down with a leering glare, “is whether we just kill her, or have a little fun first.”

Tears welled in Kirsten’s eyes. “Please …” she whispered, not even trying to conceal the hint of a plea in her voice.

One of the hooded men looked at the other. “How many of our kind d’you suppose sounded like that right before they got sucked dry of blood?”

“Good question,” the other one smirked.

The questioner turned his pitiless eyes to Kirsten. “I hear it’s a slow process. Slow and painful. I think we oughta show you what that feels like.”

The other man nodded. “Turnabout is fair play, and all,” he said. He put his knife to the neckline of her sweatshirt and began to cut it open.

“Please,” Kirsten repeated, a tear falling down one cheek as the man began to cut into her sweatshirt … .

And then he disappeared.

It took Kirsten a moment to realize what had happened. At first, it seemed that her tormentor had simply vanished, disappeared into thin air. It was only when Kirsten heard a low “Ribbit!” at her feet that she looked downward — and saw a small, dark green frog there. The other man apparently heard it too, looked down, saw the frog, looked back up at Kirsten in anger …

And before he could do or say anything more, she punched him in the face.

The man staggered backward, moaning in pain. Then, visibly frightened by the unexpected reversal of fortune, he turned and ran away at top speed. When he was gone, Kirsten ran up the stairs to where Sabrina stood, an embarrassed look on her face. “Sorry,” the younger woman blurted out.

“Sorry?” Kirsten asked, incredulous. “For what? You probably saved my life.”

“I did the spell wrong,” Sabrina muttered. “I was trying to say ‘toe of frog,’ not ‘turn to frog.’”

Kirsten actually laughed, in spite of herself. “You’re forgiven,” she told the younger woman dryly.

“So, where’d you learn to kick like that?” Sabrina asked, looking impressed.

“I’m a five-foot-four woman,” Kirsten shrugged. “You think I’ve never taken a self-defense class in my life?”

Both women laughed.

Then there was a moment’s silence.

And then they threw their arms around each other, each unbidden but both at the same time. Kirsten and Sabrina stood there like that for several long minutes, tears rolling down their cheeks.

Chapter 6

Hunter barely even stopped for red lights on the way to Kirsten’s apartment. Kirsten had been close to hysterical when she’d called him, so much so that all he could make of what she was saying was that there had been some sort of emergency and that he needed to come over right away. In two years of knowing Kirsten, the closest he’d seen her come to losing her composure was at the museum gala, and this was clearly far worse than that.

So he was already more than a little worried when he knocked on the door, and the sobbing he could hear through it didn’t help. It took a moment for her to answer the door, and in that moment, he could hear sobbing from behind it. Then the door swung open, to reveal Kirsten standing in the doorway, dressed in a tank top and jeans. She wasn’t crying, but her face was flushed and tear tracks were streaked down her cheeks. Beyond her, Hunter could see Sabrina curled into a ball on Kirsten’s couch, her head on her knees, sobbing.

He looked back and forth between them for a moment and asked, “What happened?”

“Salvation Alliance,” Kirsten croaked out, voice practically a whisper. “They were waiting … I think … they …”

“You were attacked?” Hunter asked, eyes widening in shock and horror. Then he noticed the marks on Kirsten’s bare upper arms. Angry red blobs, with a few splotches of purple and black. It took Hunter a moment to realize what they were. Hand prints. The fingers of his left hand clenched into a fist so tight that the fingernails pressed painfully into the palm, but Hunter didn’t care. He stepped closer to Kirsten, taking one arm gingerly in both hands and examining it. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Kirsten shook her head. “I’m — I’m all right,” she said slowly. “More shaken than anything.”

“I bet you are.” Without even thinking about it, he pulled Kirsten into an embrace, and they held for a long moment before she spoke again, voice just above a whisper.

“Sabrina’s worse,” she said.

Hunter looked over and realized that, in his concern for Kirsten, he’d completely forgotten about the young woman curled into a ball on the couch. His usual irritation with the girl did not even enter his thoughts as he walked over and sat down next to her. “Sabrina?” he spoke to her quietly. She did not immediately respond.

“Sabrina?” he tried again.

She looked up, though she didn’t seem to actually see him. Her eyes merely looked ahead as she said, “They … the way they acted … it was like I was some kind of … like I was an animal …. “

“I know.” Hunter reached out and tentatively put a hand on her shoulder. She recoiled, and he removed it immediately.

“What did I ever … what did I ever … “ she said, her face flushed bright red and her eyes still unfocused.

“You didn’t do anything, you didn’t do anything,” he said softly, soothingly. “Some people are just … well … bullies,” he finished, the words sounding pathetic and lame even to his own ears. They did nothing to change the look on Sabrina’s face.

Hunter’s mind cast about desperately for something he could do or say to bring the girl a measure of peace. Unable to think of anything, he scooted away from Sabrina on the couch and beckoned for Kirsten to come sit between them. She did, and when she put an arm around Sabrina, the younger woman did not reject it, instead leaning against Kirsten for support. An unpleasant feeling stirred in Hunter’s gut, and it took him a moment to recognize it as jealousy.

That doesn’t make sense. Sabrina was a pain — why should he care if she liked Kirsten better than him?

Shame burned in his gut, replacing his confusion. His closest colleague and a former client had been attacked, and he was indulging petty jealousies? What was wrong with him? And yet he could think of nothing useful to say, so he sat there in silence while Kirsten held Sabrina, stroking the girl’s hair and trying to calm her. Not that he felt like he was doing anything particularly useful, but Kirsten clearly wanted him here, so he stayed.

Finally, Sabrina fell asleep, still leaning on Kirsten, and Kirsten gently eased the younger woman off of her, then put a hand on Hunter’s arm with a grateful look. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I dragged you over here on a Friday night.”

“I’d be mad at you if you hadn’t.” Hunter smiled at her warmly. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And that she is.” He looked down at Sabrina for a moment, and it struck him that the girl’s sleeping face held an innocence that belied her recent experiences. He glanced back up at Kirsten. “You think you’ll get any sleep tonight?”

Kirsten shrugged. “No idea. I hope so, but …” She didn’t need to finish the sentence — he’d still be shaken too, in her shoes.

“Well, hopefully you’ll be fresh in the morning.”

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “You want me to work?” She did not sound particularly upset at the prospect of having to work on Saturday right after having been attacked. It was typical Kirsten, and that brought Hunter some relief from the evening’s tension.

But working on Saturday wasn’t what he had in mind. “No,” he said, setting his jaw. “I want you to come with me. We’re gonna go see Chief Garrison.”