Battle With Fire

by Breene, K. F.

  “It’s not that bad.” I scanned the bar before I took a seat next to her, not seeing any familiar faces. That was good. They wouldn’t know to stop the bar fight I was keen on instigating. Jimmy would let me get away with a whole lot with a dragon ride on the line, I had no doubt.

  “It is absolutely that bad, and you know it. What a stink-faced, weaselly little turd.” She took a sip of her drink, then grimaced spectacularly.

  I drummed my knuckles on the bar. “You’re right. It is that bad. He sucks. I’ll start a fight in your honor.”

  “I’m starting to understand why you’re prone to them, with associates like that snarl-toothed dong we just had to endure.”

  It was hard to hide my glee at Penny’s ill humor. Usually she didn’t let it get to her this badly. She’d probably been happy to pull off a job of her own, for once, and then that dickface Garret had gotten in her way.

  “We’ll do another one.” I nudged her with my shoulder. “We’ll take another bounty-hunting gig and handle it without interference. I’ll stand back and let you take point, how’s that?”

  She didn’t say anything, but her shoulders lifted a little.

  “Reagan.” Trixie sauntered down the bar, a few new tats decorating her chest, merging into the older ink flowing down her arms. The light from the bar sparkled off the stud in her right nostril and her blue hair had been cut at her cheekbones. “Back to cause trouble?”

  I made like I was thinking. “Probably. How about a hurricane?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Going big, huh?”

  It wasn’t rare for me to drop by for a hurricane, but hurricanes meant trouble if I planned to stay for a minute. I did love me some trouble. I missed demolishing stuff in the Underworld. In the Brink, you couldn’t just destroy buildings with abandon and rip down walls. People got angry. The best you could do was kick in doors, and even that turned people off. It was very restricting.

  “Yeah.” I hooked a thumb at Penny. “She had a bad day. I’m drinking in solidarity.”

  A look of warning flared in Trixie’s eyes. “Penny, I can’t have you destroying this bar. I heard about the accident at the Mages’ Guild…”

  Penny and Emery had been at the Guild for most of the time since we’d returned from their excursion into the Underworld. She’d only come to NOLA because we were about to start the next phase of the Skirmish of the Worlds, and she wanted to regroup with the Bankses and me.

  “What accident at the Guild?” I asked, sending an accusatory look her way. “You didn’t tell me about any accidents.”

  “It was nothing. I was just trying out a spell and it backfired.” She downed her drink.

  “Leveling a building is what you call backfiring?” Trixie gave her a flat look and walked down to the other end of the bar to make my drink. They had premixed hurricanes for tourists, but those were watered down and kinda lame. I needed the real deal, and Trixie packed a helluva punch in her drinks.

  I turned on my barstool to catch Penny’s expression and noticed the mood of the whole bar had quickly changed. Conversations had halted, eyes snapping up and tension curling through the air. This wasn’t because of Penny’s misdeeds.

  I felt the newcomer’s presence in the prickles of danger at my back and shivers of warning crawling up my spine. The gush of raw power. The intriguing mystery of a sex life undisclosed.

  “Roger.” I gave Penny a brow furrow to tell her we’d return to this conversation, then swiveled in the other direction on my barstool.

  The alpha of the North American pack stood framed by the door, broad shoulders nearly spanning from one side to the other. His built torso slimmed down into trim hips before exploding out into powerful thighs. The guy was built like a tank, but he moved forward as deftly as a dancer, lethal grace in every step. He was not a guy you took lightly, unless you’d been in the trenches with him, crawled through hell, and lost any remaining fucks you had to give.

  “Bang any pretty ladies lately?” I asked with a grin. Just call me fuck-less.

  His dual-colored gaze, one blue eye and one green like a faded dollar bill, swept the area. His attention lingered in two places, and I wondered what he was thinking. Clearly he didn’t like the look of someone in our proximity. Since he’d been taught how to shield his thoughts from me, though, the details remained a mystery.

  “Reagan.” He stopped behind the open barstool to my right. His gaze fell on Penny. “Natural Dual-Mage.”

  I frowned and pinched my lips. “Since when do you greet her with her magical type?”

  “Because of my influence within the Mages’ Guild, the Guild insisted I need a title,” Penny said. “I’ve refused, of course, so they—and now the shifters—are using my magic as a signifier. It’s ridiculous. This is what gave the mages a big head in the first place. Does no one learn from the past? I don’t want this organization to turn out anything like the last one. If we pick titles, we might as well follow up by highlighting people’s levels. That’ll create a hierarchy, which leads to competition and the desire for advancement, which leads to showboating, which leads to greed… It’s a slippery slope, and this is how it starts.”

  I nodded slowly. “She has a point, Roger. That last Guild was a cesspool, or don’t you remember standing by in Seattle, doing nothing because you weren’t powerful enough to take them on while they broke all the rules?”

  His gaze took on a hard edge. My stomach curdled. I could take him in a fight, and had, but even so, the man could freeze water on a hundred-degree day with that look.

  “Also…why don’t I get a title?” I nodded at Trixie when she placed my drink on the bar in front of me. She grabbed the bottle of Jameson and poured Penny another shot without asking.

  “You have a title. Chief Shitshow,” Roger said, nothing on his face to show that he’d just made a joke. Apparently shifters thought cracking a smile would invite someone to challenge them. A bunch of ninnies. His eyes stopped sparkling from his less-than-funny joke. “We are set to convene in two days at our compound in Montana. Darius has all the information. The Realm is restless, and we’ve had word that the wheels are starting to turn. The battle seems to be drawing near.”

  “A commune, how fun. Who is ‘we’?” I asked, just to make sure we were on the same page. I took a large pull of my hurricane.

  “The first and second Arcana have all their people gathered—those who aren’t hidden away in the Realm. We’ll talk more about that when we meet—”

  “Should I give us a privacy spell or something?” Penny asked, glancing around.

  Roger didn’t scan the bar again, unlike me. Most people were shooting him furtive glances, a few clearly lustful, and a couple were staring into their drinks like the sheriff had just waltzed into the saloon. Not one of them set off my danger bells.

  “No need,” he replied. “The elves’ people aren’t good at blending into populated Brink areas. They stick more to the shadows and the outskirts. There’s no one in this bar to worry about.”

  And that was the reason for the scan. Got it. Though I could’ve told him this place was clear. I was pretty sure Penny could’ve done the same, though she probably didn’t realize it. Danger had a way of shouting at you when it was present, and we’d been in too many dangerous situations not to notice.

  Roger pulled out the barstool beside me like it had done him wrong. He moved in front of it and sat, just a regular guy…if you couldn’t feel the pulsing power and danger emanating from him. Or didn’t notice his poise and readiness, like the world might explode and he’d save everyone here when it did.

  “Can I get you something, alpha?” Trixie asked, leaning her hands against the edge of the bar.

  “Cosmo. In a tumbler.”

  Penny leaned forward and looked at him from around me. “Cosmo?”

  He met her assessing stare. “Have you tried them? They taste pretty good. Better than your drink.”

  “I am not drinking whiskey because it tastes good. I am drinking it becau
se it tastes like a punch in the face. After the day I’ve had, and the few months that preceded it, I just need a punch in the face from time to time.” She made a soft, irritated sound in her throat. “The devil’s bells and tackle, I need a donkey kick to the throat, actually. Is there a drink that is like a donkey kick to the throat?”

  I tapped my glass.

  “Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Maybe I’ll get that next. Anyway, Roger, I’m impressed, that’s all. You’re a big, rough-and-tumble guy, but you’re clearly secure enough in your masculinity to drink a pink drink. I respect that.”

  “Not totally, though, right?” I said. “He got it in a tumbler…”

  “I always spill with martini glasses,” Penny responded. “I get it.”

  He didn’t respond for a second. Then: “My pack has levels, and we have structure…but that hasn’t resulted in a cesspool or corruption. If the leadership puts the pack—or organization—first, and lives and dies by honor, then the pack will thrive. That kind of leadership fosters respect. A title won’t set you on a path to corruption, Penny. Levels won’t destabilize all you’ve achieved. Instead, those things will help people understand where they are and where they are going. You’ll get some bad apples, yes. Any organization will. Good leadership means recognizing those bad apples and throwing them away. Good leadership means helping their people step up the ladder in a safe environment that praises hard work and growth. As a friend, let me encourage you to be as open in your leadership as you are in your magic. Feel it out, and judge what’s best. Don’t let the fear of what could be tarnish what is.”

  Penny blew out a breath and sagged a little. “Yeah.” She took a sip of her drink. “Damn it, I’m really starting to like you, which is annoying, because you scare the poop out of me.” She pushed off her stool and turned toward the back of the bar. “I’m going to go pee.”

  “She just peed. She’s going to compose herself, is what she really means.” I stared after her for a moment. “I have been sorely out of the loop. What’s all this now?”

  Roger thanked Trixie and then sipped his pink-red drink. “You’ve been purposely kept out of the loop. We need your attention on the big show.”

  It was for the best. I had less experience than Penny when it came to running an organization. Less interest, too. Except that wasn’t totally true.

  My mind flipped to Lucifer, who’d wanted to teach me to help rule his kingdom. A pang hit my middle, and I couldn’t help wishing things had been different. Wishing I might’ve stayed a bit longer, under different circumstances, so I could decide if I actually wanted that role and would be any good at it.

  I’d never been a big-picture sort of person, but I’d also never been given the opportunity. I’d had to hide most of my life, sticking to the shadows and minding my own business. Now, with my magic out in the open, I didn’t really have a purpose anymore. I didn’t think bounty hunting would feel like enough for me. Not anymore. And now that I’d settled my curiosity about the whole merpeople thing, I didn’t even have that mystery to occupy me. If I wasn’t going to take a role in the Underworld, what would I do? Penny had her thing, and Darius had his, but I wasn’t a mage or a vampire. I didn’t fit anywhere up here.

  “Anyway,” I said, reaching for my drink.

  “She needs a long vacation and a lot of bubbles,” Roger murmured, his gaze following Penny.

  I chuckled. “Probably.”

  “And you need to get on the battlefield.”

  I nodded slowly. “Probably.”

  “You have some rage to work through.”

  “Did you suddenly turn into a counselor or what?”

  “My job is to keep a lot of different personalities working cohesively together. With the fae, that is simple. Working with Romulus and Charity is seamless. We have our initiatives, we have some extensive preliminary plans, and we have our desired outcome. We will need to keep Lucifer at bay and force the current elven regime to step down. Once that is done, we can help the elves and the Realm rebuild and restructure their government so that it is fair and just, with Romulus and Charity as the chief peacekeepers.”

  “Well, bully for you.”

  “You and your jumpy natural dual-mage are wild cards. Karen is nervous a lot lately, and it concerns you two. She won’t tell me everything, though, and I’m thinking that’s because of Penny. She wants to protect her daughter.”

  “Do not talk to me about Karen and her bullshit prophecies. She can suck it. She and that red-haired lunatic sent me to get tortured.”

  “And then get rescued and trained by your biological dad. I can feel your power now, Reagan. You don’t need a title because there is absolutely no mistaking what you are. Even humans can feel it, or don’t you realize they are giving you a wide berth?”

  “They’ve always given me a wide berth.”

  “That’s because you used to have crazy eyes. Now you seem much, much calmer. And that only makes you seem more dangerous. Which you are, obviously. I need to know you are in it for the team if you step out onto that battlefield with us. This is already a very precarious situation—I need to know that you’ll help us bring it home.”

  “I’m going to have to. You can’t do it without me.”

  “True. We need you. More than anyone, we need you. Darius has assured us that no one else can take on Lucifer and win. The mages could give it a shot, but without you, they would fall short.”

  “Aw shucks.”

  “But I’m worried about your festering rage over what the elves did to you. The elves need some restructuring, like the Mages’ Guild did. They need new leadership, and we have to gut all the bad apples—”

  “That’s a bit of a mixed metaphor…”

  “But they are necessary to that world. If the fae are restored to their role as guardians of the citizenry and the ruling party, it would create a much more peaceful, safer environment for the Realm. If the Realm is left to Lucifer or, worse, the vampires, then there will be incredible turmoil, worse than there is now. I truly believe that. I have no dog in this fight other than wanting peace and justice in the Realm.”

  “Like in the Brink?”

  “Like in the magical portion of the Brink. I can’t do anything about the rest of this world.”

  I pushed out a breath as Penny came back. He was coming from a genuine place—I didn’t just hear it in his voice, I felt it—and what he’d said made absolute sense. It was the outcome we’d all agreed we wanted before I was captured. Before I went back to the Underworld. My logical mind said he was right.

  My logical mind wasn’t always in control.

  “Heard,” I said. That was about as much as I could offer him. What they’d done to me was inexcusable. Unforgivable. And not just because it was unjust, but because it was a common occurrence in that place. They’d tortured countless others before me, showing them no mercy. No common decency. Allowing them no dignity.

  “But tell me this: what do you plan to do about the shifters they’ve taken?” I ground out as Penny sat down. “They’ve tortured your people. You don’t want vengeance for that?”

  “I do.” A growl laced his words. “Badly. And I will have it in the form of change. I will see those responsible for the carnage torn from their places and exiled. Or killed, if they don’t go quietly.”

  Fire raged in his eyes and his voice, but it was something behind it that captured my attention. Pain, not just for the shifters he’d left behind, but for me. Roger was the ultimate alpha—he looked after his people to the fullest extent, at times sacrificing his own wellbeing for theirs. He internalized their pain so that they could release it. It was all in there—a beast of festering rage that he kept on a tight leash.

  If he could stuff his down, surely I could do the same?

  I nodded, feeling the fire lick up my middle.

  Then we understand each other, Roger thought.

  “We do,” I replied, wondering what would happen if I lost that vein of logic.

  He dow
ned the rest of his drink, pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, and leafed two hundred-dollar bills from the top. He set them on the bar and called Trixie down.

  “Open the bar for the regulars until that runs out.” He knocked on the wood and stepped back. “Reagan, natural dual-mage.” He turned and walked out the door.

  “I still want a title,” I called after him. “A cool one.”

  “That guy makes me nervous,” Penny mumbled when he’d gone.

  “He makes everyone nervous. I think that’s part of his job description.”

  “He just manipulated you. You know that, right?”

  I sagged against the bar. “No, he didn’t. I heard what he had to say and internalized it. He made good points.”

  “He just handled you like a child. They’re all worried you’re going to fly off the handle and go on a killing rampage with the elves. Cahal made a painting of what you looked like after they got through with you. He’s not the type to lie.”

  Cahal would know. He’d gone to the Underworld with me, and I wasn’t so sure I would have made it back without him. After a few days of recouping with us at Roger’s super-secret ranch, he’d drifted off into the world like the shadow he was. He hadn’t said goodbye, or if we’d ever see him again, or even where he was going. One day, he was just gone.

  Which would’ve been more dramatic if his dragon hadn’t been completely fine with being left behind. He’d obviously told her what was up. The dragons were still at Roger’s super-secret place, enjoying the new world and the limitless sky. We’d see them again soon. Because there was no way we were rolling into any kind of battle situation without them.

  “Cahal paints?” I asked.

  She looked at me with her large, solemn blue eyes. It was the sort of look a puppy would give after you swatted it for being bad. “I shouldn’t have let you sacrifice yourself. I should have been there with you.”

  “They would’ve killed you outright. You wouldn’t have been there with me for long. But seriously. Cahal paints?”

  “I keep having nightmares about looking back and seeing you in the elves’ castle, surrounded. I keep seeing the look on your face when you pushed us ahead of you in the Underworld. Darius was so frantic.” Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. “It’s killing me, what they did to you. And I just walked away.”