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The End of the Circus: A Tale of the Yizibajohei
Magic in Miami Omake: Holy Warriors
by Regina Magia
Within a church on the Big Cypress Indian Reservation (forty-five miles northwest of Miami), Thanksgiving Day in 2012, two hours after supper (Tōkyō time: Labour Thanksgiving Day, two hours after breakfast)...
"Damn! And I thought that haunted burger place was a nightmare?!" Will Bakshi moaned.
Looking at all the inverted pentagrams and other symbols of dark magic, Harry Bluth couldn't help but agree with his peer's dry comment. While the church located some distance from the inhabited parts of the largest reserve possessed by the Seminole in the Sunshine State hadn't seen a service since its pastor was falsely accused of molestation, it was obvious to the Sunshine Troupe that someone had been dwelling here for a week or two.
"Over here, guys!" Savannah Andrews called out from nearby. "I found Steve!" As the others breathed out in relief, the Crystalline Weaver added, "He's in pretty bad shape, but he's alive!"
Without hesitation, the Ghostly Hunter flew down the hallway to where his friend currently was, he followed by the Dynamo of Passion. Behind them, a mixed team of Todd Darnell's brother DMLE aurors from the office in Tallahassee and local Seminole magical shamans swept in to commence an intensive purification of the parts of the premises cleared by their metahuman allies from the Magic City. "Thank Merlin these kids are willing to help out even on a holiday!" the no-maj-born leader of magical law enforcement within the Sunshine State muttered.
"Indeed, the Coyote Maiden was truly guided by the Great Spirit to bring such power to the aid of all on Mother Earth, young Todd," the senior shaman assisting the aurors tonight, Elder Patrick Osceola, noted as he started to weave an intricate series of ruby mesonium-fuelled ward-laying tendrils into the wall.
The others chuckled at the centenarian's addressing the lady who just won a spectacular victory against the aliens an hour before by the term "coyote maiden". "Will Mistress Tariko and Master Ataru accept the Medal of Freedom from President Bartlet THIS time?!" one of the junior aurors, Michael Moore of Tampa, asked as he projected an intricate cleansing spell developed by MARPA on Mount Greylock in Massachusetts.
"Doubtful, Mike," Charlene Tiger Jumper, a shaman who was the grandniece of the pastor who founded this church decades ago, noted as she spread more tendrils of warding magic in the floor, she trying not to spit out some choice curses in her native tongue at this desecration of her relative's prize creation. "With the Herald of the Great North Father returning full-time to the Islands of Nihon from the Cove of Svjetjjílische — with her whole crew, one being the Coyote Maiden's very own granduncle — the traditions of her own clan will weigh down hard on her shoulders even if the people in Congress demand otherwise."
Amused chuckles escaped the other magicals at that dry observation. Meanwhile, both Harry and Will had caught up with Savannah, who was close to the main doors leading into the sanctuary. The mesonium-weaver was kneeling beside Steven Ronell, a musical prodigy in his sophomore year at Caleb Lain Senior High who often helped the drama club. Right now, the would-be concert pianist's nutmeg hair was messy, his clothes soiled; he had been missing for a couple of days. Multiple partially-healed cuts covered the exposed parts of his arms and the sallow look on his face showed how anemic he had become. "Damn!" Harry snarled, reaching over to effortlessly shatter the cuffs binding Steve to the wall, allowing Will and Savannah to lower him to the floor.
His eyes fluttering, the sophomore musical prodigy blinked as his brain quickly rebooted itself, then he gaped on recognizing his rescuers before his eyes widened on seeing their jumpsuits. "Damn! You guys...are Gifted...?" Steve moaned before nodding as Savannah gave him a canteen filled with a fruit drink she got from a vendor in Kabe-koli, one with little mesonium content to provoke a Gifting. "Like...Moroboshi Ataru's sisters...?"
"Yeah, man," Harry said as he squeezed the younger teen's shoulder. "What happened to you?"
Steve breathed out as he took a moment to recall things. "Was...attacked on my way home..." he muttered, rubbing his head as his blue eyes fluttered, the fatigue he felt now obvious to his peers. "This thing...looked like Man-Bat from the comics...it brought me here..." Gazing on one arm, he shook his head as running feet heralded the arrival of the duty healer currently assigned to help support the Tallahassee DMLE station, Mistress Joëlle Smythe. As he polished off the contents of the canteen, she produced a small container full of a general restorative potion; at the Ghostly Hunter's suggestion, Todd and his friends dressed themselves as troopers of the Florida Highway Patrol to keep the stalebloods in Manhattan happy. "Kept talking...about his lord..."
"Did you meet a man named Mitchell Hanewal, Mister Ronell?" Healer Joëlle asked.
Confusion answered him. "That goth? No, Captain."
"That man-bat thing must've been one of Mitch's creations," Will mused.
"How's he looking now, Doc?" Savannah wondered.
The native of Orlando reached over to touch Steve's chin, making his eyes widen as he felt something surprising surge through his body from that contact. "Your friend's starting to recover now, Mistress Savannah," she noted. "That juice you gave him is helping de-crystallize whatever fragments of ebony mesonium are in his body."
"You're a healer...?"
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
Then...
"How do you know of that, Steve?" Will asked as the healer winced.
A dry chuckle answered the custodian's son. "Dog Troop, Third of the Seventy-Fifth Cavalry," the musical prodigy explained. "My granduncle was a technical sergeant in charge of the pegasus stables."
Instantly, the Orlando native relaxed. The 75th Cavalry Regiment (Magical) of the Magical Corps of the United States Army always recruited from the areas of the former Confederate States in peacetime. "Well, no Statute violation here, then," she calmly noted. "What made you guess, Mister Ronell? I didn't feel any magical residue in you that indicated your granduncle or any other magical had been close to you before."
A chuckle answered her. "Your uniform. Why would the Highway Patrol be involved in this?"
Amused laughter escaped the others at Steve's observation. "Always something," Harry noted. "You're probably right, Will. That man-bat thing must've been one of Mitch's creations. You want what we call a 'revenge scene', Steve? Savannah's got the stuff to help you get that and live your life much more under your control."
By now, the sophomore was feeling his strength return, the cuts on his arms and other parts of his body visibly disappearing. "Like how Miss Saeru explained how folks on Yiziba live their lives?"
"Pretty much so," the animator's son answered.
Blinking as he recalled what he had been forced to endure over the last two days, Steve then nodded. With that, the Crystalline Weaver pulled out a Tupperware container containing what had to be the most sinful food anyone attending Caleb Lane Senior High could enjoy: Her so-called "world famous" chocolate brownies. "Not at the level of a pre-Gifting snack like Tariko or her sister Shirayuki make, but this will help what the healer just gave you to chase all the dark magic out of your body," the amateur actress explained as Steve nodded his thanks. "It'll boost your strength, too. Never know if there's going to be a gate-crasher in these scenes."
"Will, escort Steve and the healer out of the building to let him rest up; tell Todd and Elder Patrick what's going on," Harry then instructed. "Savannah and I'll press ahead to see what else is here."
"She's the mesonium-maker," Will affirmed as he joined Healer Joëlle in helping walk Steve towards the main doors where the aurors and the shamans were busy forging a safe zone.
With a blast of compressed air — accompanied by surprised yelps from the sophomore and the healer — the Dynamo of Passion kicked in his powers to get them clear of the danger zone. Nodding in delight on seeing a peer safe from their opponent's wrath, Harry and Savannah turned and walked into the sanctuary itself...
Jesus loves me, this I know
For the Bible tells me so...
"Man-oh-man! His singing's not worth shit!" the Crystalline Weaver dryly noted as she and the Ghostly Hunter found themselves gazing upon what seemed to be a man...though said "man" had unusually distended arms and legs; he was currently dressed in a dirty, worn priest's black frock coat over matching slacks.
Little ones to Him belong;
They are weak but He is strong...!
"I'd laugh right now, but this guy is definitely one of Mitch's minions," Harry wryly agreed. "Down and quick."
"Let's party..."
Before the "priest" could turn on hearing the unknown voices from behind him, the two Sunshine Troupe warriors were on him in the blink of the proverbial eye, the team leader effortlessly pinning him against the wall while his friend grasped their target at the waist to do a deep scan with her psychokinesis. Seeing the onyx-black glow forming around the creature, she spat out, "Shit! He's chock full of ebony mesonium, Harry!"
"No return?!"
"RELEASE ME, DEVIL-SPAWN...!"
"Nada!"
"THE LORD WILL SMITE THEE...!"
"Only one thing to do then!"
Harry's hand plunged into the "priest's" chest, making the creature yowl in shock at such a display of power. Said scream turned into a horrified shriek as the Ghostly Hunter yanked out an egg-shaped object that was solid black and glowing with the same onyx-shaded fire Savannah's meta-sight had detected now cloaked their target.
"...NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! GIVE THAT BACK!"
"WRECK IT!" the Ghostly Hunter barked out, tossing the crystal over.
"IT'S GONE!" the Crystalline Weaver declared as she snared the obvious source of the "priest's" power, then destroyed same, using her own powers to ensure shards didn't punch into her skin and really ruin her day.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...!"
Jerking spasmodically for what seemed like a dramatic eternity, the "priest's" face then turned into a visage of mortal fright before his whole body instantly collapsed into a pile of pepper-like dust, the clothing he had — now empty of the quasi-living creature it had sheathed — dropping into a pile by the wall.
"That DEFINITELY must have been one of the older ones," Harry muttered as running footfalls echoed from outside, making him and Savannah turn as Todd charged in, accompanied by Elder Patrick.
"Yeah! Remember that necromancer we took down last spring on the Keys?" Savannah mused as both the senior auror and the elder shaman scanned the remnants of the being that caused such disruption on the reservation. "Soon as we made the jerk croak, all his reanimated minions just dropped to the floor."
"Those were recently deceased," Todd noted; he had been involved on that mission.
"How old, Todd?" Elder Patrick wondered.
"This one, Elder? I'd give it a century at LEAST...!"
The native of Pensacola then gasped in surprise, making heads snap over...
...just as a humanoid creature with the apparent features of a grey wolf — complete with temple-mounted pointed ears, a more snout-like nose and tawny fur covering the skin — rose from between two of the pews. "A co:litayki...?!" the elder shaman exclaimed with wide-eyed awe, using his native term for an embodied wolf-spirit, a rare magical creature who were revered among many native nations.
The quite handsome fellow — in Yizibajohei eyes — then blinked, his ear twitching with curiosity.
"Er...who are you people?"
Confused blinks answered him...
To Be Continued...
WRITER'S NOTES
This story takes place two days after the first of this series, The Sunshine Troupe Assembles (the eleventh omake overall).
The Cove of Svjetjjílische was first mentioned in the Of Gifts and Semblances; it is the traditional name of what came to be called Sano-wan ("Sano Bay"), where the aircraft carrier THG Yonaga was trapped within for many years. As noted in that story, the Cove of Svjetjjílische is the place where the Dúma Gamájuna gathers; this is the ruling parliament of the gamájun, a magical avian metamorphic species similar to Veela based on like-named beings from pagan Slavic myths inhabiting the remote reaches of Siberia.
The 75th Cavalry Regiment (Magical) is one of five such regiments (on the American Army scale) who formed the core of the Seventh Cavalry Division (Magical) that fought on the European side of the Wars of Liberation; the whole formation was first mentioned in Fred's third Wizarding and Avalonians story. Like other cavalry regiments serving the Union, the names used for sub-units are based on the old British traditions, though up-scaled in size: Squadrons are the size of battalions while troops are the size of companies.
Translation from Mikasuki (the language of the Seminole): Co:litayki — Wolf face.
