Dara flung her staff up as another flaming pumpkin sailed towards her. She spoke a short, sharp word, and gestured with the staff. The pumpkin went flying… onto the freeway, where a car slammed on its brakes as a chorus of horns sounded.

Dammit!

And then the horseman was on her, and Dara dove to the side, barely avoiding it.

“Pick on someone your own size!” Millie shouted and threw some bottled water at it.

The great figure turned towards Millie, and then another pumpkin formed in its hands.

The police officer had given up on calling for help and was opening fire with his gun, but the spirit didn’t react.

After all, it was merely a projection of mystic energy and didn’t have any vital organs to damage. You had to disrupt it.

Which Dara could do. As it trotted towards Millie, Dara raised her staff and spoke several words, before she sent a bolt of violet energy sailing towards the spirit. It struck…

And clung to the spirit, running over its body.

The spirit’s bellow was loud enough to set off car alarms. It whirled to face Dara, ignoring Millie. Dara sent another bolt at it, but this time the spirit parried it and started charging Dara, raising its hand to fling another pumpkin at her.

Great, it’s strong! Dara shook her head as she raised her staff. She’d have to stop it another way. Then she blocked the pumpkin with her staff… and her staff exploded.

Dara somehow ended up on the side of the bridge, her back hurting where she’d slammed into the concrete wall.

Oh, and the bit of the staff she was still holding was on fire. Dara threw it away and then stared at the spirit.

Okay, I’m gonna have to—

“I need it distracted!” she screamed, remembering not to use Millie’s name at the last moment.

“You got it,” Millie said, running for the car.

The car, what does she have in the car—Dara frantically crab-walked back as a flaming hoof slammed down onto the pavement where she had been, the asphalt bubbling from the heat.

There was another hollow laugh.

“Is this your bridge?” Dara asked, moving back as fast as she could.

No answer.

It’s not intelligent enough to give an answer. Just playing out the story. That was probably why it hadn’t hurt anyone. The story was over if you got off the bridge.

And I can’t get off the bridge, not in time…

And suddenly, a horn sounded. Millie roaring down the bridge in her car, lights flashing, horn honking.

“Out of the way, Kid!”

Dara rolled to the side, and the horseman turned to face the oncoming vehicle. Dara pulled out a focus, and slammed it down, snapping out a word, and moments later, the spirit was lost in a column of dark clouds whirling around it. For a moment, it was distracted.

Then Millie hit it, the sound of a crumpling fender loud.

But the car was made of real materials, unlike the spirit, and the horseman’s form shredded, a shriek of rage coming from it. Millie kept driving down the bridge, and fortunately nobody was coming the other—right, there was a police car down there, lights flashing as it blocked the bridge, Millie making a three-point turn and zipping back by Dara.

Dara grabbed her marker. There was absolutely no time to do this the easy way, like she’d planned. Dara had expected that everyone would have gone home, she would have walked out, made a circle, and dismantled the spirit.

But of course not. Nobody on this world had ever heard that you were supposed to sleep when the sun went down. Why did she forget that!?

And don’t forget to poke a spirit, because that’s what everyone does!

And right on cue, the spirit reformed. The damage had cost it some of its power, the horse and rider were smaller, but not enough. And now it was angry and would probably kill anyone it would get its hands on.

Starting with Dara.

But it was giving her time. Dara ignored the sound of the neighing horse, or the thunder of its hooves as she quickly drew the symbols, before unfolding the larger paper she’d brought from home.

I have to set up the outer circle with the inner focus… she aligned the symbols, ignoring the way Millie was honking her horn or the shouts from the few remaining bystanders for her to run.

There was no time to run. Not now. If she tried, it would just trample her.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Hurry, hurry! And then she finished the last sigil, and slammed her hand down, speaking the trigger, as the sigil’s flared, and the disruptive matrix she’d expected to use at her leisure on a deserted bridge came to life just as the horse reared up, flaming hoofs preparing to slam down on her head. Then it shrieked, the sound loud enough to crack windows, even more horns sounding from the freeway by the old bridge.

“I know!” Dara shouted. The spirit was enshrouded in a twisting vortex of multicolored energy, the sorcery she’d initiated tearing at its structure.

It was still trying to kill her, and Dara rolled to the side with a shriek as a flaming pumpkin slammed down onto the pavement where she’d been, sparks and fire flying everywhere.

Including onto her cloak, which then caught fire. Dara rolled over and over, smacking it with her hands, trying to put it out.

Then the spirit surged forward, the sorcery still tearing at it.

“Damn it!” Dara shouted. The cloak was out, but now… she fumbled for a focus, and then finally pulled the right one out. I’m going to have to make another staff. But I can do this…

She slammed the focus down, and with a roar of wind, a dark column formed in front of her. Her mouth went dry.

Not fear. The sorcery was sucking all the water out of the air to make…

The elemental that sloshed forward. It grabbed the spirit, shoving it back to where the working was flaring, water flashing into steam from both the spirit’s fire and the action of the working, attacking both of the beings’ mystic structure.

“Hurry!” Dara shouted, and the elemental redoubled its efforts, its dissolution troubling it no more than its creation had.

The spirit was tearing at it, the horse bringing its hooves down on the mass of water, steam, and sparks flaring from them.

But in trying to destroy the elemental, the spirit ignored the genuine danger, and moments later, the flare of sorcery encompassed both beings.

Oh, I think this is going to be an energetic dissolut—OH SHI—Dara rolled over and shielded herself from the fight, and then with a thunderous boom, she was flung across the narrow road to hit the other side, thank you very much, and covered with the ectoplasmic remains of the spirit, even as the elemental collapsed.

Dara remained still. The concrete was still warm from the light of the day, and it was nice and relaxing.

She would just stay here, maybe take a nap. The ectoplasm would fade on its own. No need to move.

“Kid? Kid!”

Dara blinked. How had Millie gotten down here? Wasn’t she in the car?

“C’mon, Kid,” Millie said. “We gotta get you to the hospital.”

“M’kay…” Dara mumbled. “Fine.”

“The hell you are. You hit the wall like a cannonball.”

Dara blinked again. Why were there two Millies?

“C’mon, the cop’s occupied putting his car out, and we need to get you to the ER.”

“E…R… Is that a place.”

“Yeah, you’re out of it.” Millie said. The older woman looked around. “C’mon, before we have an interview with that nice Mr. Policeman who is currently putting his car out or all of his friends who are showing up.”

“Right.”

And then Millie was helping her into the seat of her car, as more and more police cars clustered at the end of the bridge, shrouded in the little fogbank that had been created by the destruction of the elemental.

“Millie?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t expect that.”

Millie sighed as she started the car. “Story of our life, Kid. Story of our life.”

----------------------------------------

The “ER” wasn’t at all like a healer back home. Like everything in the world, it was big part of a complex as large as most palace complexes back home.

The room itself was crowded. Some crying children, a man demending “his stuff” and other people dozing and watching TV. A man had come to Dara, checking her blood pressure, taking her pulse and doing other things while he input her informatoin into the computer. Dara only had her student ID, and Millie gave their address, mentioning that it’d been an over-enthusiastic game that saw her slamming into a wall.

Later, Dara sat, holding her clothing to her front as the Doctor examined her back, the ugly bruises spreading over her body. They’d be hurting tomorrow, even though the tools the hospital had assured the doctor’s that she had suffered no serious injury.

“It’s a rattled brain box, but nothing more,” The doctor told them after she’d been checked (and after they’d waited for most of the night) and tested. “If you suffer any symptoms, severe headaches, or anything out of the ordinary, you can come back here, but unless it’s serious, you can always go to the student health office. That’d probably be cheaper.”

“Thank you,” Dara said.

“We’ll pick up some Tylenol on the way home,” Millie told her as they walked out into the warm night air.

Dara blinked. No. It wasn’t night air. It was very early morning air. How long had they been…

An ambulance roared up and moments later, a woman was being rushed in on a gurney, a crying man about her age following them. Millie followed Dara’s gaze.

“Yeah. ER’s can be bad. That’s why it takes so long. You got a line, but anyone with a severe issue goes to the front.”

“That seems… okay,” Dara said, wincing.

“And with that, you’re better than half the people coming in here for a hangnail.” Millie grinned. “Let’s get back home so you can sleep. Gonna have to call in sick tomorrow.”

“Right…” Dara normally hated to miss classes, but right now… “That sounds good. At least the spirit is gone.”

“It won’t come back, will it?”

“No.” Dara shook her head. “And even if it might, the fact that it was destroyed—well the legend doesn’t have the horseman being defeated. That makes it less likely that a similar spirit or haunt-elemental would ever form in that area.”

“So beating the shit out of a ghostie really does work. Huh.”

“Sometimes,” Dara said. “Not all the time.”

“Well this is all the time I…oh. Oh. Shit.”

“What is it?” Dara looked up to where they were just a block away from the house. A house with a car in front, a short form leaning against it.

“That’s…”

“My sister. The FBI agent. Oh. Boy. This isn’t good.”

No, it isn’t. Dara stared at the woman. Maybe she isn’t here because of what just happened.

But Dara had a bad feeling that was precisely why she was here.