Club 66 Omnibus

by C. C. Mahon

  Goldilocks was struggling in the middle of the coyotes. The whole pack surrounded her, even the wounded ones, the ones that King had hit in the shoulder or the hip. But they weren’t all attacking. A coyote with a tawny coat led the assault. I recognized the one that had set the others right a few minutes before and guessed it must be Jenny. The young metamorph had caught Goldilocks by her hair and was shaking her like a rag doll.

  I’d recently learned a detail about Valkyries: their hair never broke. I bet that in that moment Goldilocks regretted that fact.

  The roars, the barks, the strikes of the Valkyrie’s skull against the ground, the smell of blood, sweat, and different magics made my stomach turn over. It was time to end this.

  “Let me through,” I said.

  I hadn’t raised my voice, but a simple exertion of will doubled the flames of my sword. The first coyotes scattered.

  “Jenny, move over!” I said, louder this time.

  But Jenny wasn’t listening. She might not have been able to hear me anymore or to understand my human words.

  “Max?” I asked, looking up.

  A big gray coyote jumped above the circle of his counterparts. He caught Jenny’s neck between his teeth and immobilized the female.

  She ended up letting go.

  “Move over,” I whispered.

  Goldilocks fell onto her back.

  Until now, only my sword had been able to wound her.

  Until now.

  Had Odin finally stripped her of her last powers? The Valkyrie was covered in wounds, skin scraped up by the concrete floor, flesh torn off by coyote teeth, a busted brow bone…

  But her blue eyes still shined with the same hatred, and the craziness had not left her. She spoke incomprehensibly in her native tongue, choked, and spit out blood and a few teeth before continuing. I had no idea what she was saying.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  Sorry that life had pitted us against each other.

  Sorry to see her raving.

  Sorry to know that the same man had forever ruined our lives.

  Ruined her life.

  I thought of King and Britannicus, motionless beyond the circle of coyotes.

  I thought of Barbie, who was laying in a puddle of blood a few feet away.

  I thought of Agatha.

  I thought of my little sister. Of my mother, of my father.

  I swung the sword. The blade sliced skin, tendons, vertebrates, before burying itself in the concrete floor.

  Goldilocks’ head rolled to one side.

  Jenny howled at the death, and the other coyotes joined in.

  The smell of ozone caught in my throat.

  I took a few steps back and let myself fall to my knees. I wanted to puke, but my body didn’t seem to agree.

  So I let out a long scream, as if the sound could rid me of my emotions, of the disgust over what I had just done, of the anger at having been forced to do it, of the fear that hadn’t yet given way to relief.

  I screamed until I ran out of breath, until my head was spinning and my vision clouded over. I was still clutching the sword in my fist, and giant flames engulfed it—engulfed us. Ozone replaced the air in my lungs, and I lost consciousness.

  38

  I came to immediately—at least that’s how it seemed to me.

  I saw the flames disappear, felt the air make its way back into my lungs.

  The smell of blood replaced that of ozone.

  My friends were hurt.

  “Boss?” asked Matteo’s voice in my ear.

  “I’m okay,” I told him. “Barb stepped on a landmine. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “The wizard took a shot to the stomach. He’s also bleeding a lot.”

  “And King?”

  He lowered his eyes. “I had a banged-up shoulder,” he said, “and I couldn’t lift up the hammer.”

  “You fed on King?”

  “With her consent! She’s even the one who suggested it. She’ll recover, I swear.”

  Behind us, the growls and barks of the pack were taking a morbid turn. Were they eating the Valkyrie?

  “We have to get out of here,” I said. “Can you carry Barbie? I’ll try to help Britannicus.”

  I gave a wide berth to the circle of coyotes, being careful not to look at what they were doing. It was very dark now that my sword was no longer burning. But there was still the smells and the noises… If I could have avoided hearing them, I would’ve loved that. It would seem that we couldn’t have everything we wanted in life.

  Britannicus had ended up losing consciousness, while King was back to normal. The cop was holding her flashlight between her teeth, focused on Britannicus. She pressed a cloth against the wizard’s stomach. Britannicus’ shirt was red with blood, and his face was gray.

  King put her flashlight down and looked up at me, tight faced. “He needs an ambulance,” she said, “but I can’t call emergency services to the middle of a pack of frenzied coyotes.”

  “We have to evacuate him,” I said. He reeks of blood.”

  I didn’t need to say more. For now, the coyotes were focused on Goldilocks’ body. How long before their interest turned to Britannicus?

  I examined the wizard’s wound. The beam from the flashlight revealed a wound at the level of the intestines, but there was too much blood to see its exact size or shape. I put my hand on his back and was met with the consistency of ground beef.

  I pulled my phone from the pocket of my jeans and dialed the Guild’s number. A sleepy feminine voice answered me.

  “Britannicus Watson—” I started.

  “Mister Watson is no longer one of our members,” the voice said in a clipped tone.

  “—is dying,” I said. “Should I call an ambulance so we can let the doctors puzzle over his wizard’s metabolism, or…”

  “Address?” asked the voice.

  I gave it to her. “I also have a harpy in bad shape,” I added. “Do you know what to do?”

  “Our fees—”

  “I know. I’ll pay.”

  “Five minutes,” she announced before hanging up.

  39

  The wizards of the Guild arrived in five, with stretchers and white doctor’s coats. But instead of bandages and IVs, they were equipped with spells and formulas. Neither Britannicus nor Barbie regained consciousness, and I watched them disappear in the back of the ambulance with the feeling that I’d never see them again.

  “Don’t worry, boss,” said Matteo. “The Guild is a bunch of pretentious snobs, but they know what they’re doing. They’ll have them back on their feet in no time.”

  He’d helped King get back up and had supported her until the street.

  “Britannicus wasn’t able to heal Nate,” I pointed out.

  “Nate had been poisoned by a forgotten goddess,” retorted Matteo. “Barb and Watson were hit by ordinary metal. They’ll pull through just fine.”

  King shook her head. “All of this is insane. Am I going to wake up tomorrow and realize that this was all a dream? Am I going to forget everything?”

  “Do you want to forget everything?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not,” she said instantly.

  “It would be simpler.”

  “Simpler for who?”

  “For you, at least.”

  “If there are goddesses, harpies, and um…” She gestured to the warehouse with a sweeping arm motion. “Werewolves…”

  “Meta-coyotes,” corrected Matteo softly.

  “If there are ‘meta-coyotes’ in my city, I want to know about it. How can I guarantee the security of the people otherwise?”

  “The supernaturals aren’t a danger,” I said.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Not for the ‘naturals.’ Yes, they steal from one another, fight each other, and sometimes kill each other. But there’s one rule that everyone follows, which is to never involve ‘naturals’ in their disputes. Humans have to remain in ignorance of our society.”

&nb
sp; “And you, Erica, where do you fit in?” she asked. “You speak of supernaturals saying ‘they,’ but you’re not in the human world anymore, are you?”

  I shrugged. “There are a few of us living on the border of both worlds. We know too much to be protected by ignorance without actually being supernatural. We manage. But if you declare war against supernaturals…”

  “I’m not declaring war on anyone. But the first one who touches my citizens will have to deal with me.”

  “At least wait ’til you’re back on your feet,” I said.

  “Detective, said Matteo, “you’re in no condition to drive. I’ll take you back to your house. With the most honorable intentions, of course.”

  He offered her a radiant smile, and I was prepared to bet that in that moment King didn’t much care for that type of honor.

  I watched them walk away with a strange tightness in my chest. It wasn’t jealousy. Absolutely not. But what then?

  40

  A few days after our epic battle and the coyotes’ feast, Barbie and Britannicus were released from the Guild’s infirmary. The wizard accompanied the harpy home, because no one had found Barbie’s car yet, and you couldn’t just fly across a city like Vegas, even with red wings well mended by a team of healers.

  Nate was also back on his feet and in a hurry to get back to work. But the club wasn’t reopening immediately. Not before hosting a private soirée.

  It was meant to be in Agatha’s memory and to properly celebrate our victory.

  But I didn’t drink my mead in the skull of my enemy. Truth be told, since our fight, I hadn’t felt like myself. My nights were filled with nightmares that had no rhyme or reason, and I’d taken to sleeping with my sword held close to me again. I’d already cut up all my sheets, and I’d just ordered three new mattresses. But the touch of the sword was the only protection that allowed me to get some rest.

  During the day, it was the flashbacks that came to haunt me. And the smell of ozone seemed to follow me everywhere.

  I was determined to forget all that for one night, surrounded by friends.

  Nate was still a little too pale for me to declare him fit for work. I’d admit, I took a particular pleasure in being as overprotective as he tried to be with me normally. And since I was the boss…

  Therefore Gertrude armed with her magical hammer would be working the door tonight. King was joining us. Max and Jenny too. I had long hesitated to invite the two coyotes. But in the end, they’d helped us defeat the Valkyrie. I’d consulted Barb, Gertrude, Nate, and Matteo, and we’d finally decided to give them a second chance. So they were on Gertrude’s list.

  Detective Dale wasn’t.

  Gertrude called me, and I went up to meet her on the main floor. I found her in front of the cop, who looked her over with an amused eye.

  “You’ve surrounded yourself well, Miss St. Gilles,” said Dale.

  “Very,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I see you’ve reopened.”

  “It’s a private event.”

  “I see. I still need to speak with you. And since I’m here, could I have a few minutes of your time?”

  I signaled for him to follow me.

  Agatha’s portrait occupied a place of honor atop the bar. Matteo had pulled out all the stops. To keep Nate from pacing like a caged bear, I’d promoted him to bartender and tasked him with making all the cocktails on the menu without a mistake. He was off to a bad start.

  I sat at one end of the bar, and Dale sat down next to me.

  “Did you arrest Agatha’s murderer?” I asked.

  “No,” he admitted without hesitation.

  So an innocent wasn’t going to pay for Goldilocks’ crime. There was that at least.

  “What brings you here then?” I asked.

  “More bad news. It’s about your family, in Chicago.”

  I looked over at Lola on the other side of the room.

  “Detective King didn’t share your secret,” said Dale. “And I’m not here to begrudge you your name change.”

  “What then?”

  “I’m here to offer you my sympathies for the death of your waitress and of your family. Innocent victims of a random act of violence.”

  That didn’t do me much good now.

  Nate placed two cocktails in front of us. The mismatched glasses held questionably colored liquid. Dale took his, sniffed its contents, and put it back down without tasting it.

  “There are plenty of reasons to change your identity,” he went on, “and even people who only use one name rarely show their true face. Everyone lives behind a mask. Rare are those who truly discover who they are.”

  “Uh…okay? You came here to tell me that?”

  “And to ask you if you’re going to stay in town or take on a new name somewhere else.”

  “Is that any of your business?” I asked.

  “Professionally, yes.”

  I imagined that as long as he hadn’t closed Agatha’s case, he wanted to keep the key witnesses close by.

  “I’m staying here,” I said. “Like you said, I’m well surrounded.”

  “And the man you’re fleeing from is no longer around.”

  I grimaced.

  “You think Mister Carver is still alive?” asked the detective.

  “I have no idea,” I admitted. “He could have also decided to change identities.”

  He looked me over for a moment with his strange eyes that were made asymmetrical by the scar before asking, “In that case, wouldn’t it be advisable to run again?”

  I sniffed the contents of my glass, and the smell made my eyes water.

  I wondered if the detective was a spy sent by Callum. With his fortune and knowledge of magic, Callum could pay off all the cops he wanted. And according to Lola, Dale was new in town.

  Or maybe the cop was simply a cop, intrusive due to job conditioning.

  “I’m no longer the little girl that I was when I met Callum,” I said. “I’m no longer the broken woman I was when I left him. The time to run is over.”

  “And if he finds you?”

  “I’ll be ready and waiting.”

  “Tell me, Erica… You seem to be an independent, intelligent, and courageous young woman. How did you fall into this Carver’s grasp?”

  “What do you know about him?”

  “Carver wasn’t his real name. He had also changed his identity, undoubtedly several times in the past. Lots of money, expensive taste, exotic collections, and an impressive security team. All that leads one to believe that he didn’t always follow the law. And you don’t deny that you came here to get away from him, which would indicate that he mistreated you.”

  I rubbed my face and inhaled deeply before explaining. “Callum is—or rather was—perverted. And not only in the bedroom. He liked twisting people, undermining the cornerstones of their personality, and breaking them. He got off by torturing others, like a kid who pulls off a fly’s wings. I grew up in a loving and stable family. I didn’t imagine that such monsters could exist. I was naive. He seduced me—he was an expert manipulator. And when I realized my mistake, it was too late. I had no money, no friends, and he threatened to go after my family. I was terrified.”

  “But you left.”

  I shrugged, emptied my glass in one gulp. “I thought that by abandoning my family, I was protecting them. In reality, I left them defenseless.”

  Dale was staring at me with his strange eyes that seemed to see beyond the surface. His scar made him look like a particularly perceptive old pirate.

  “And now,” he said, “who do you want to protect?”

  I turned towards the room. “I have friends here. I think they’d be safer if I kept an eye on them.”

  Dale smiled at me, emptied his glass in one gulp, and left. I watched him until he exited the room. Why had this guy come? What was that bit about masks? Had my brash declaration convinced him?

  Lola interrupted my thoughts. “Was Dale bothering you?” she asked.


  The detective sat on the stool that her colleague had just freed. I slid Nate’s latest concoction towards her.

  “Not really. He was telling me weird things about people who live without knowing who they are.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me coming from him. He’s a really strange guy.” She sniffed the glass and took a sip. From the other side of the counter, Nate watched her hopefully. Lola grimaced, and Nate deflated like a balloon.

  “I spoke to the coroner,” said Lola. “Agatha’s body disappeared. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

  “The Sorcerer’s Guild retrieved it.”

  “They couldn’t wait for us to release the body to the family?” she asked.

  “Not if we want to avoid the coroner finding a tree growing in his fridge over night.” She glared at me, and I explained, “Agatha was a dryad. And a spirit of the forest.”

  “In Vegas? In the middle of the desert?”

  “She was from California,” I said. “At least I think.”

  “I thought you didn’t remember,” she said. “Did you check her work contract?”

  I shrugged. “She didn’t look like much, our little Agatha, but she came from a family of giant sequoias.”

  “Are they, um…coming for the funeral?”

  I shook my head and caught the glass that Nate was holding out to me. “She’d burnt all those bridges. We’re going to plant her here, where she’d chosen to live.”

  “Plant her?”

  “When a dryad dies, she takes root. Tomorrow, we’re planting her on the wizards’ golf course. In a few days, they’ll have a new tree to shade their fairway.”

  King ran her hand over her face. “Wait, wait, that’s too much information at once. The Sorcerers’ Guild has a golf course?”

  Britannicus sat down next to the cop. “It’s their ‘cover,’ ” he said, “the facade they show to the human world.”

  “A golf club,” said King.

  “So exclusive that no one gets in without an invitation,” confirmed the wizard.

  “How do you feel?” I asked him. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him since he’d gotten out of the infirmary.