Locke and Key: Sabrina Harkness 1
by twinblade
Jan 27th 2006
Chattanooga TN.

She laid on the roof of the warehouse and looked up as Finder laughed his ‘Joker’ laugh. How someone who looked like a sum of averages, like her Cajun co-worker, could have a laugh like a cartoon villain was beyond her.

“You’ve seen too many movies, cher,” Finder said as he reached down to help her to her feet.

“What do you mean, Cajun?” She asked as she took the offered hand.

“These are animated bodies. Necromantic magic gives them movement, not some kind of plague or virus.” As Finder was speaking he was scanning the front parking lot. “In this case they are controlled by a wealthy necromancer using some kind of artifact.” Rina walked over to where he stood and followed his gaze down. In the parking lot a man in a suit, standing next to a Porsche, was holding what appeared to be a blue glowing skull. An honor guard of zombies circled him for protection. “Can you do anything about that?”

She shook her head, “not without more stuff to work with,” she answered. “That was my last trick,” she said nodding towards the roof hatch. Rina realized that as her adrenaline level went down she felt the cold from the winter rain extremely bad. Her teeth were starting to chatter so powerfully that soon she’d be unable to speak. At this moment she would swear that English winters had nothing on this.

Finder peeled his shirt off and handed to her. Not a single goose bump adorned his skin, which was more surprising than the fact that Rina had never seen him eat or drink anything. “Take this and guard the hatch,” he said handing her the sledgehammer. “Let us see if I can do a little magic of my own, huh?”

As she walked over to the hatch she couldn’t help watching Finder. Every muscle in his body seemed to be straining against an invisible force. The cold rain started to steam as it dripped off of him and strange marks flared to life traced in what seemed liked white hot flame. Runes, hieroglyphs, and other marks she couldn’t identify appeared on his back, arms, even his neck. Suddenly she saw the magic energy rush from the hatch towards his body, and the effect was immediate. The hatch flew open and a badly decayed zombie tried to climb up to the roof. Rina swung the hammer with all the strength she could muster and smashed the head into paste, sending the body tumbling down and knocking a couple of more zombies off as it fell. But there were more coming so she kept swinging and just as the pain in her shoulders and back got to be too much for her the zombies suddenly stiffened up and fell to the concrete floor with a disgusting squish. The hammer dropped from her numb hands onto the roof, and Rina noticed that she was screaming herself hoarse. She closed her mouth and stared down at the pile of bodies on the floor, noticing that the big rain drops falling off her front braids were dripping into Pat’s dead eyes. Suddenly Finder was beside her kicking the hammer down the hatch and urging her to climb down.

Once they reached ground level Finder stopped long enough to pick the sledge back up, then grabbed her hand and led her in a run to the smashed in front door. Once outside he stopped running to go through the pockets of the now dead man in the suit who had been holding up the skull. He pulled the keys to the sports car out of the dead man’s pocket and threw them towards her. She numbly watched them smack her in the shoulder and fall to the wet pavement. When she bent over to pick up the keys she saw the wounds on the dead man and realized that the zombies closest to him had turned on their master and chewed him to death. She quickly averted her eyes as she stood back up. Finder finished looting the body and led her over to the drivers seat of the Porsche. As she sat down and buckled her seat belt, he walked over to the glass skull the man had been holding and smashed it to shards with the sledgehammer, then left the hammer on the ground.

When Finder slid into the passengers seat beside her she turned to stare at him. She cleared her throat noisily and stared over his right shoulder at the seat belt. He blinked twice, dumbfounded. She crossed her arms, keys still in hand and didn’t budge until he buckled himself in. “Where to?” Rina asked.

“Your place, Sabrina,” Finder answered as he went through the dead mans briefcase that had been in his seat, “you might as well pack first.”

At her apartment Rina found herself completely on autopilot. Finder had to remind her to pack her magic supplies at least four times, while never showing any real signs of impatience. She snuck one necessity into her purse while he wasn’t looking and they rushed back out to the ’borrowed’ car. She found herself driving again and following his directions. It seems Finder didn’t know how to drive a stick shift. His directions led them to Airport Road and then into the airport itself. Finder had her park the car in the long term parking area and he swiped a credit card from the dead man’s wallet to pay for the week. The two friends then grabbed her bags and ran across the street to the Airport Motel.

She knew the place by reputation. The rooms were available by the night… or by the hour, and the place was infamous for gang shootings,, drug busts, and other horrid acts. Armed with this knowledge she was surprised to see Finder open a room door with a key on his key chain. Until tonight she had thought he was a bit eccentric, but now she wondered how dangerous he might be. The room was cleaner than she expected, and the fact she realized that signaled to her that her mental numbness was wearing off. Finder threw her a large fluffy white towel and pointed her towards the bathroom. Rina gladly jumped into the shower to warm her still cold body under a spray of too hot water.

After she washed, dried, and changed into clean, warm clothes she felt alive and awake. Awake enough to fish a certain necessity out of her purse while Finder took a much shorter shower. When he stepped out of the bathroom she thumbed back the hammer on her .32 revolver. His hands quickly rose above his head, causing the towel around his waist to fall to the floor. She found it difficult to concentrate on keeping her aim with his ‘gun’ now in plain sight. ‘It looks like a much larger caliber than I’ve usually handled,’ she thought to herself. When she finally brought her eyes back up to his face, she found him smirking at her.

“Something on your mind, mon petite?” He asked, still smiling.

“Yeah, Cajun… what the hell are you?”




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