Mage's Apprentice (Mages of New York Book 1)

by Sean Fletcher

  Aspen kept her head down and took the narrow bridge across the river (an offshoot of the Hudson, magically hidden in Ember’s Landing, of course) and continued to the concourse where most of the borough’s nightlife was just starting up. The licensed casinos and clubs had their neon lights on already. Those with less savory goods were already taking up their spots on the street corner. Aspen nodded to a few of them she knew, then put her head down again. The night Supes would be on the prowl soon. Ghouls didn’t usually come into Ember’s Landing, but the Vamps whose turn it was to feed would be passing through on their way to the Norm world. She didn’t want to be out when they did.

  Another ten minutes’ walk brought her to the market. Aspen slipped into a tucked away courtyard, lit up by the haze of a street lamp. She faced a single darkened store front she knew well.

  “’Bout time you got here,” said a boy.

  He slipped from the shadows, trailed by a couple more of Hugo’s crew, all a little younger than Aspen.

  “Would have gotten here a lot sooner if I hadn’t been ditched,” Aspen said. “Where’s Snitch?”

  “Where’s what I asked for?” said a deep voice from the darkness, making Aspen jolt. Her skin prickled as a wisp of smoke drifted from behind and solidified before her. As a djinn, Hugo’s physical appearance—a gruff, bearded, slightly overweight man wearing scrappy work clothes—always appeared a little hazy, a little halfway there.

  What wasn’t halfway there was his power.

  “A Mage’s house, Hugo?” Aspen said, refusing to show how nervous she was. “Really? Do you know how stupid that is?”

  “I thought you were the best.”

  “I am the best!”

  Hugo shrugged as if it were that simple. “I needed something from it. So I asked for it.”

  “What could you possibly need from a Mage?”

  Hugo rubbed two of his fingers together, the movement causing sparks to dance from the tips and spill onto the ground. “That’s none of your concern. Your job was to get Snitch inside and ensure he got what I wanted.”

  “My job was the get him inside. Nothing more. Then he scampered off!”

  “You were doing fine on your own,” came Snitch’s meek voice from inside the shop. A couple of the other kids snickered.

  “Come out here and see just how fine I am.” Aspen tried storming forward but Hugo held up an arm. His eyes glittered.

  “Careful, careful. He’s my responsibility. I can’t go letting him get hurt.”

  Aspen’s hands tightened on the blade beneath her coat, but she managed to stop herself. Barely. Most djinn had control of elemental magic, something Aspen hadn’t had much experience dealing with. And in such close proximity, this wasn’t a fight she was betting on winning.

  She took a step back. “Just give me my payment, Hugo. And next time you want me on a job, no Mages.”

  Hugo’s face split into a wide, malicious grin. “Who said anything about payment?”

  Aspen’s insides went cold. “Don’t screw me on this, Hugo. You hired me to get that brat inside and I did. Not my fault he bungled it after.”

  Hugo leaned in until Aspen could practically taste whatever it was he’d eaten last.

  “I didn’t get what I wanted. Therefore you don’t get what you want.”

  This time Aspen pulled her knife, the tip of the blade hovering inches from Hugo’s throat. There was a scuffle as the other kids drew their own weapons. Hugo laughed. He pushed her knife away and straightened up. “I see you have a problem with that!”

  “I need that money, Hugo.” Already she was imagining what she’d have to do to make up for it. An entire day, wasted. She’d have to find another job—any job—and fast.

  Hugo waved her plea away like an annoying fly. “And I needed what Snitch couldn’t deliver. So…”

  His eyebrow cocked at Aspen’s fierce expression. “Are you really going to fight me, Aspen? A Norm, taking on one of the Supes. I know, perhaps you ought to bring it up with the Mages, since you’re so well acquainted.”

  He laughed again and suddenly Aspen saw nothing but red. She didn’t care that he was a djinn and she was just a Norm. She didn’t care she was outnumbered and nobody in the borough would come to help her. That money was all they had and now it was gone.

  Her blade managed to shave off the bottom part of Hugo’s beard before he reacted. Aspen was already swinging again, knife up, when he brought his hands together like a thunderclap. A blast of wind pummeled Aspen to the concrete. The air was shoved from her lungs.

  “I should kill you right here,” Hugo’s voice hissed in her ear. “Do this whole borough a favor. You know, more Norms have started living in Ember’s Landing ever since your filthy parents showed up. Some have married into it. They’re breeding. Can you believe that? It’s disgusting. And it’s your fault.”

  Aspen tried to reach for her knife, but Hugo’s hazy body hovered over her, making her limbs heavy.

  “Your usefulness only extends so far, girl. Remember that.” He raised one finger. Fire flared to life at its tip. He brought it down to her face, to her cheek. “Maybe I should give you a different kind of reminder. One you won’t so quickly forget—”

  “Aspen!”

  The ground rumbled as lumbering footsteps pounded her way. Hugo’s crushing weight left her and Aspen, wheezing, scrambled up as Brune came into view. His massive head swung between them. He was carrying a sack of supplies. That’s right, Aspen vaguely remembered. Tonight had been trade night.

  Brune’s beady eyes settled on Hugo. “What’s going on?” He demanded.

  Hugo jerked his head. “Run along, run along, little girl.”

  “Aspen, what—”

  Aspen scooped up her knife and tugged on Brune’s sleeve until he reluctantly followed her. “Forget it. Come on. Come on.” She insisted as Brune started to turn back toward Hugo. “Just forget him.”

  Easier said than done for her. Not with the memory of Hugo’s leering face printed onto her brain. Not when she could feel Hugo’s malicious gaze burning into the back of her head as she and Brune walked toward home.

  The Thief’s Mistake

  Aspen couldn’t look at Brune. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment she knew would be there. That’d be the perfectly horrible bookend to this perfectly horrible day.

  After a few minutes of only their footsteps in the silent street, Brune said, “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What were they—”

  “Nothing. They were doing nothing.”

  “You weren’t…stealing again? Were you?”

  “Of course not.” The lie tasted bitter in her mouth, but if Brune knew she was still thieving after she’d promised to stop, the confession would break his tender heart.

  “Okay…good,” Brune said, sounding satisfied. “Because you don’t need to steal. I told you I can take care of us. See? Look what I got tonight!”

  Aspen peered into the bag he lowered to show her. Her spirits sunk. Most of it was junk. Again. And he’d probably traded much more valuable pieces for it. Once the other traders in the borough got wind that Brune could be suckered it had almost become a game to them.

  “That’s great, Brune. Good job.”

  “Oh, I need something here.”

  They ducked into a supermarket that was still open. Once they got everything they needed and Aspen threatened to skewer the cashier when the girl tried to short change Brune, they left, more dirty looks following after. Aspen knew she was letting her anger get the best of her. But she couldn’t shake the negative thoughts cycling through in her head.

  That money. That’d been all they had. They’d needed it. Badly. More badly than Brune could know. They wouldn’t starve. She could steal what they needed, whether Brune liked it or not. But the rent…and the shop…that was all Brune had. He loved running that shop almost as much as he loved her.

  “I got your favorite,” Brune said. He pulled out a quart of mint-raspber
ry ice cream. Still her favorite, even after that day…bittersweet. That’s what it was. She loved it. And hated it.

  “Thanks a lot, Brune.” Aspen said. Brune finally managed to get his fingers around the lip and pried the lid open. They took turns dipping their fingers in and licking them.

  “I hope you feel better,” Brune said. “I should have stopped those bad people from hurting you. I should have been there.” His voice was growing thick with emotion, precursor to a sobbing cry.

  “No, you did nothing wrong, Brune. It was just a misunderstanding.”

  Brune wiped his eyes. “Really?”

  “Really. They thought I was someone else. I would have been fine.”

  Brune gave her a watery, trusting smile and Aspen’s heart twisted with guilt again. It had been doing that ever since Brune had found her mysteriously untouched in the burned-out wreckage of her parents’ house. She never knew how she’d survived. Never questioned it too much, simply letting the hurt of her parents’ death mask anything else from that day.

  Brune had immediately taken her in. Normally there was a process of guardianship in the magical community; each race took care of their own with some exceptions. But nobody cared if an unwanted half giant took care of an equally unwanted Norm. For all they cared, the undesirables could stick together.

  They passed a row of houses, a few lit up so brightly that a yellowish glow spilled onto the sidewalk as they passed. Aspen could make out the figures inside one of the living rooms: shifters of some kind. Maybe wolf.

  Inside, she could see a couple children leaping around, laughing. She heard the booming voice of the father and the two of them scurried out of sight. Aspen turned away and trotted to catch up with Brune.

  They reached their small shop. Like most of the houses in the neighborhood, it looked squashed. Two more homes had been jammed in not-too-neatly on either side, making it look even more slender than it really was. The brick was worn. The shutters and bars over the windows needed replacing about ten years before, and Aspen could barely make out the faint shimmer of the low-grade alarm charm she’d hired a witch to cast a few years back. Something they definitely didn’t have money for now.

  The sign above the door—Brune’s Magical Surplus: Trinkets for All Types!—had long faded. It was a good thing Brune had a somewhat steady supply of regulars. They wouldn’t be attracting anyone new anytime soon.

  “Home sweet home!” Brune chortled as he always did. He unlocked the door and they walked into a room crammed to the brim with supplies. Blunt weapons hung against one wall, armor on the other. Powders, salts, casting chalk, herbs, all of it organized by Aspen over many long, slow afternoons, were stored in bins in the center. Behind them, traps, nets, bombs, and excess silver. Probably why the wolf-shifters weren’t their biggest fans.

  Brune set his bags behind the counter and began slowly putting things away. Aspen lingered in the doorway, just staring. How many hours had she spent in here? Squirreled away beneath the tables listening in on Brune’s discussions with potential customers. Hours she’d spent familiarizing herself with all the weapons and traps in the times Brune had asked her to watch the shop while he went to run an errand.

  She kicked aside the stack of bills and notices that had spilled out of the mail slot. PAST DUE was stamped on the front of most.

  “I’m going to bed,” Aspen said wearily.

  “Don’t you want dinner?” Brune held up a store roast chicken, his face expectant.

  “I’m…not really hungry. Go ahead.” She knew Brune could eat one of those by himself. Easily.

  Brune’s face fell. “Are you sure those bad people didn’t hurt y—”

  “I’m fine, Brune!” Aspen snapped. “I’m just tired.”

  She refused to look at him as she threaded through the shop and stomped up the rickety wooden stairs to the second floor. There was even less space up here. A single room, bathroom, and a kitchenette that only Aspen could actually fit in well enough to do any cooking. Her room was one more flight up.

  She climbed a ladder and pushed open the trap door to emerge in the attic. Here was only her bed, a dresser, and a mirror. It was cramped, but it was private.

  Also, it was perfect for sneaking out whenever she wanted.

  Aspen glanced out the lone window. Night was fully settled now. The undead—the few there were in Ember’s Landing—would be out. Most of the night, Supes were rightly feared in boroughs outside their own. There were strict magical laws governing how, what, and when they could feed, but Aspen knew from experience if the Mage in charge of the borough didn’t enforce it then the rules went lax.

  Aspen went over to one of the boards in her wall that jutted out a bit more than the others. She pounded on it twice. It popped open and she pulled her suitcase full of supplies onto the bed. The shadow powder was the first to be refilled, followed by the single bullet she’d fired (‘Always keep ‘em full’ a grizzled bounty hunter had warned her). Next, she dipped her finger in the vial of blood (her own, painfully collected) and coated the Dakri knife so it wouldn’t rust. She had, on past jobs, been forced to wound supernatural beings. Even kill. It wasn’t something she was proud of, not something she wanted to continue doing, but it had kept her alive. More than once.

  She sheathed the knife. Anything else that needed stocking was methodically replaced. The shadow powder was almost out. That sucked. Brune didn’t stock it like most of the other stuff she’d smuggled up here, and it was a pain to get. Aspen sighed. Nothing to do about it now.

  She replaced the suitcase behind the board and flopped back onto her bed. Brune still thumped around two floors below, his footsteps making the house gently tremble.

  Aspen’s thoughts whirled erratically. Hugo—the sleazy sack of filth. Another job. Their house. Brune. Another job.

  She turned over. She needed money, needed it now. Perhaps if she’d been able to find out what Hugo had wanted so desperately from the Mage’s house she could have pawned it off for herself. But there was no way she was going back to his place, or the house, now. As it was, it would take her another couple days to find a new gig, assuming there even was one. Hugo could have slandered her name all across the Landing. He had connections like that. Which meant, for the time being, she’d need to resort to something more crude: Petty theft.

  She hadn’t done it in a long while but knew it could be lucrative if you had a clue what you were doing, especially at night. The succubus, ghouls, and most of the undead spirits didn’t have anything worth taking.

  But the Vamps and the Fae…

  Not that she relished trying to rob either one. She’d gotten caught trying to nick from a Court Fae back when she was younger and stupider. She’d barely escaped, but the resulting battle had caused a massive explosion outside Battery Park. The NYPD had blamed it on a gas leak (didn’t they always?) but Aspen had been forced to keep her head low for weeks after.

  Still…it wasn’t like she had any other options.

  Aspen swung her legs off the bed. She unlocked her window, letting the cool air in. The ledge would allow her to shimmy to the next rooftop and make her way down from there.

  She paused, ready to leave. There was the agonized creak of the stairs as Brune maneuvered his bulk up to his loft.

  “Aspen?”

  Aspen made sure all her weapons were safely tucked out of sight beneath her jacket and opened the trap door to peer down. Brune stood hunched at the foot of the stairs. His bright, round eyes glittered in the darkness.

  “I am sorry,” he rumbled. “Did I wake you?”

  “No,” Aspen said, throwing in a fake yawn for good measure. “Just heading to bed.”

  “I know it’s hard right now.” Brune looked down at his massive hands. “I know I am not good at many things—”

  “Brune, stop—”

  “But I will make it better. And I am glad you are here. I am glad you are safe.”

  It was like he was driving a stake of guilt straight through her heart. “Yo
u’re not bad at many things. You’re amazing. There’s no one else I’d rather have than you.”

  Brune wiped his damp eyes. Aspen hoped he didn’t start crying again. That meant she might start crying.

  “I love you,” Brune said.

  The stake plunged deeper.

  “Love you too. ‘Night.”

  Then Aspen closed the trap door and scurried out the window before her heart could finish bleeding out.

  What a total waste of a night.

  She’d gone to every place that usually held potential targets. Meyers Street—filled with bars and night clubs—normally had some drunken shifters or idiot wandering out alone. But it was quiet. She nodded casually at the bouncer and then hurried away before he could get a good look at her face. The Bottoms, a backwashed part of the river that ran through Ember’s Landing, was usually where the younger Vamps hung out. Normally not a good place to pick up anyone but maybe one of them had cash from mommy or daddy.

  If there had been any-freaking-one there.

  Riverwalk. No. Shopping district. No. The few who were out were some of the undead or huddled in protective clusters. Not easy to pick one off. And the undead weren’t even Vamps. Ghouls—disgusting creeps—phantoms too. Aspen wasn’t sure if see-through specters carried cash. She wasn’t willing to try.

  She slumped, defeated, at the edge of the fountain in the center square. A few wayward spirits wandered aimlessly about, human and otherwise. Aspen chucked chips of rocks at them as they passed. It’d be morning in a few hours and she had nothing. She needed to be back soon so that Brune wouldn’t suspect. And after that…after that…

  Movement caught her eye. At the corner of the square, a man—at least she thought it was a man—paused to readjust something he was carrying, then kept walking, disappearing into one of the side streets leading back down to the river’s edge.

  It took Aspen all of one second to mull over what to do: sit here, wallow in self-pity, or check out Mr. Suspicious and hope he was carrying something shiny.