by TR Cameron
Fyre screamed and dove at the duo that now approached her, but they turned together and fired magic at him—a cone of shadow from the first and a net made out of electricity from the other.
Dammit. Why did it have to be lightning? Cali instructed the Draksa to withdraw with a telepathic message and centered herself physically and mentally. One of the two was Kreeson, who had recovered from Wymarc’s attack. The other was a woman of about the same age, her long hair also streaked with gray and her features hard and unyielding. Her voice, though, contained all the melody her leader’s lacked. “Well, Caliste of House Leblanc, the tales we were told of your prowess were certainly true.”
“Word travels fast.” She gestured at the fallen and ice-encased mercenaries around them. “Are we done here? Because, frankly, if I’d known this would be a double date, I probably would have declined.”
The other woman laughed. “No, I’m afraid our instructions were clear.”
“And those were?”
Her opponent grinned and Kreeson matched the expression. He said, “Ask again when it’s done—if you still can—and maybe I’ll tell you.”
They separated and put a little distance between them so she couldn’t catch them both with a single attack, and she let the fireball she’d been building fizzle.
I can’t use my light charm. There would be too much collateral damage in the restaurant and I have no way to warn Wymarc. It’s time for an old-fashioned ass-kicking, then.
She launched herself into a run at the woman and pumped magic into her muscles to increase her speed. As always, the rush of power that surged through her body made her wish it would never leave, exactly as Emalia had warned it would. She had no mental bandwidth to worry about that, though, as her foe created a rope of lightning with a ball of the same energy on the end. With almost nonchalant skill, she whipped it around her head and released it.
The orb traveled far faster than physical muscles could have driven it, and Cali narrowly avoided it with a deep backbend and slide. She’d anticipated the move accurately, but her enemy vaulted up and over her an instant before she could sweep her legs out from under her. With a muttered curse, she forced herself up, dropped her left stick, and spun in time to create a force buckler over her left hand. She interposed it in the path of the lightning ball when it was a foot away from her face and managed not to smack herself in the head from the impact, but only barely.
Thankfully, both her opponent’s hands were occupied with her weapon, which left her nothing to defend herself with when Cali stretched her stick out and delivered a blast of force from it. At the last instant, she lowered her aim from the woman’s face to her abdomen. The blow knocked the wind out of her and her out of the fight.
The distraction allowed Kreeson to find an angle, though, and she growled through the pain when a bolt of shadow struck her. Her dress offered zero protective capabilities, and the impact was sufficient to lance misery through all the ribs on that side. She gasped in shock, forced herself to move, and flung her body forward to avoid the second attack but lost her remaining stick in the process. She sectioned off the part of her mind that felt the agony and used the rest to summon a force shield that was taller and wider than she was and slid it between herself and her foe. He battered it with magical attacks as he approached, but she was equal to them.
His grin grew as he closed. “You were all that they said you’d be. The company’s reputation will grow as a result of this battle, our prices will increase, and my life will be better. I guess I owe you thanks.”
Cali shook her head. “I’m not sure if you have them down here, but up on the surface, we have these things called chickens. They come from eggs.”
He looked at her in confusion. “What?”
She shrugged. “It’s an old phrase. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.” She directed power into her muscles again and sprinted toward him with the shield extended before her. He was still confused when the slab of force thumped into him and he reeled. She dropped the magic and spread her open hands. A moment later, both her sticks slapped into her palms. She used him as a targeting dummy and struck along each attack vector in sequence, her magically enhanced speed a little too rapid for his attempts at defense.
By the time she stopped, he staggered on his feet, his arms hanging at his sides. She drove a spinning back kick into his chest and he fell. “Lock ʼem down, buddy,” she called, and Fyre swooped in and coated all the fallen mercenaries with magical frost.
After a hasty scrutiny of the area to confirm that the danger was over, she strode to Wymarc, who was seated against the wall and laughed softly. He winced with every chuckle that escaped him. “Chickens,” he choked. “Really?”
With a grin, she retrieved the flat plastic tube that lay under the strap that rested around her hips beneath her dress. Her thumb popped the top, and she placed it to his lips. “Shut up and drink.”
He obeyed, and his features eased as the healing potion worked its magic. She gave herself a pat on the back for the foresight to realize she’d need alternate methods to carry her magical tools when circumstances forced her out of her everyday wardrobe or fighting clothes. Satisfied that he was on the mend, she pulled him to his feet and he surveyed the mercenaries with a shake of his head.
“How long until the ice wears off?”
Fyre landed gracefully beside her with a flutter of wings and looked pleased with himself.
“About thirty minutes or so,” she answered, “based on past experience. Less if any managed to get their magic working before they were hit. Power tends to loosen its hold.”
Wymarc nodded. “Will they be okay?”
Cali shrugged. “There won’t be damage from the ice if that’s what you mean. At least a few of them had broken bones, I think, but none are in imminent danger as far as I noticed.”
“Same here. Kreeson isn’t all that bad, compared to other mercenaries. The Nine wouldn’t lower themselves to hire the worst ones, of course, unless an open war broke out. But still, we’d better keep our eyes open. If they were willing to hire one company, they’ll be willing to hire another.”
“I guess we should take advantage of the opportunity to acquire intelligence, then.” She walked to where the mercenary leader lay frozen on the ground and knelt beside him. Carefully, she channeled fire into her hand to warm it but didn’t release the power. She placed her palm on his cheek to melt the ice there and continued the process until his face was free. He snarled and struggled to no avail, and she flicked his nose with her middle finger.
“Hey, stupid, knock it off. Answer a couple of questions and you and your people will live. Otherwise, I’ll open a portal to the World in Between and throw you through.” It was an empty threat as she had no idea how to do that and had only heard of the place while doing research in the Magical Library in New Orleans.
But he doesn’t know that. She made sure her face reflected none of her ignorance or hesitation.
His eyes widened at the threat, which suggested that he too knew of the World in Between. He tried and failed to nod because of the ice and choked out a harsh, “Ask.”
“Were your orders to kill me?”
“No. Only to hurt you. A lot.” If she’d hoped for regret, he apparently had none to offer.
“Okay. That gets you a little credit with me, anyway. Now, the important question. Who hired you?”
Kreeson’s eyes flicked over her shoulder as Wymarc stepped beside her. Her partner said, “Tell the truth, old friend. I’ll make it easier for you. It was Cormier, wasn’t it?”
The mercenary closed his eyes and muttered, “Yes. Cormier.”
Cali patted his icy chest. “Good boy. Well done.” She stood, considered the option of having Fyre freeze him again, but decided against it. Instead, she turned to her companion with a goofy grin. “You sure do know how to show a girl a fun time.”
He looked stunned for a moment before he broke into a smile. “I guess I do at that. Who kn
ew that House Cormier would provide such an interesting and interactive adventure for us? I must be sure to write them a note of thanks.”
“More like burn their house down around them,” she muttered, too low for anyone else to hear. Then, she answered, “It would probably be best if we both did to make sure they know they’ve annoyed two houses rather than only one.”
He turned and offered her his arm, which was silly, but she took it with a shake of her head. “So, do you fancy an evening stroll through the worst parts of town?” he quipped. “After this, I can’t imagine we’ll find anything truly dangerous awaiting us. The mercenary companies tend to keep the field clear when they’re working. It’s kind of a common respect thing.”
“Until they wind up on opposite sides and have to try to kill one another, is that it?”
Her companion shrugged. “Such is the life of the soldier for hire.”
Cali sighed. “I would have said there was no place on Earth stranger than New Orleans. But once again, New Atlantis proves me wrong.” She pointed toward the palace. “Home, Wymarc. Fyre, get up high and watch for trouble.”
He ran, launched himself into the air, and soared gracefully upward. She would have preferred to portal but appearances had to be maintained, and a casual saunter to House Leblanc would show exactly how unaffected she was by the assault.
And, if my enemies misinterpret that action as proof that the incident has been forgiven or forgotten, so much the better.
Chapter Three
Usha tapped her foot in time to the fast Jazz music coming from the stage. The crowd at the Shark Nightclub was decent for a Tuesday night, and the band was a local group that had begun to attract a following. Even though the club had always been the headquarters for the Atlantean gang in New Orleans, she had worked hard to turn it into a real and profitable venue during her years at the helm.
Its popularity was assured by the fact that her bartenders made killer rum drinks, and she was on her third Pina Colada of the evening. The alcohol took the edge off everything around her and made the colors wash together and the sounds of the audience blur into that of the instruments. But even all that weight on the positive side of the scale was unable to completely banish the concerns that pressed on the opposite end of the pivot. And, like her moods, the scale swung wildly in judgment of her plans, each one good for a moment and bad in the next.
She was aware she was being maudlin and sighed. Sensing its approach, she’d done all she could to avoid the mood—put her brightest dress on, spent time on her hair, and surrounded herself with the things she usually liked. But the pressure was unremitting and her attempts to evade it were doomed to failure over a long enough timeline.
The good feelings might have lasted a little longer, though. That would have been nice, Universe.
The Atlantean gang leader drained the last of her drink and gestured at the bartender. The woman approached immediately and looked fantastic in her deeply plunging scarlet blouse and black leather pants. The watchword for all the workers at the Shark was, “If you have it, flaunt it,” and it applied equally to all genders and positions. She wanted her customers to bask in the sensations around them and forget their troubles for a time. Now and then, she thought she might truly enjoy owning a bar as her sole vocation, but those moments were fleeting. She craved more than such a solitary pursuit offered. The server’s voice was low and sultry as she indicated the empty cup. “Another?”
Usha shook her head. “Coke, ice, and the biggest glass you have.” It was time to get her mind back in the game. Applause rang out as the band finished the song, and she took a moment to survey the room and enjoy the smiles on so many faces. She took them as a testimony of the atmosphere she’d created for her guests. The drink arrived, and she drained half while she held her hand up to keep the woman from leaving.
“Refill.” The bartender laughed and moved to comply with the request. Usha stood, accepted the full glass, and headed to her office in the rear of the club.
She’d worked at her desk for an hour and a quarter when Danna finally appeared. They didn’t have a set meeting time, merely an agreement that they would end their workday together in the Shark. Occasionally, other pursuits would take precedence and they’d miss one but most often, they met as planned. Her second in command wore a dark scarlet suit, the color surprising enough that it required a moment to take it in. She wore black against it—shirt, tie, and shoes—and her shortish hair was spiked upward tonight. Usha grinned. “Clubbing?”
The woman groaned and moved toward the couches, and she rose to join her. Soon, they had settled in their usual positions, seated diagonally across from one another on the comfortable furniture. Her subordinate sighed and leaned her head back to stare at the ceiling.
“The problem isn’t the personal delivery to our best clients.” She was referring to the distribution of Zarcanum, their drug tailored to magicals. The demand often exceeded the supply, and the need to be very careful with the product lest it be stolen and copied required her second’s direct involvement. It won’t last, but we’ll stretch it out for as long as we can. “It’s the fact that they want to talk. And talk. And talk.”
Usha laughed. “They take pleasure in your company, Danna, as do I.”
The other woman shook her head and closed her eyes. “It’s about being seen, for them. The longer they’re in the presence of our people, the more social lift they get among their friends.”
“That is mostly true, although it’s not about being in a random person’s presence but being in yours. I’ve heard the words—both shouts and whispers—praising you. I’m sure the suit increased your visibility tonight as well, which means you’re playing the game perfectly.”
She snorted. “I wore it because Winston likes his women in red. He didn’t squeal when I told him the cost had gone up. It was a small price to pay.”
The leader nodded. “Good thinking. Sadly, that won’t work with everyone. But there’s nothing to be done. Demand outstrips supply. It’s the free market, baby.”
Danna laughed. “Indeed. The rest of the deliveries were equally predictable. Kisses, hugs, and handshakes—again, a small price to pay for the money they hand over oh so willingly.”
“Do you need a drink?” She gestured to the bar cart in the corner.
“Sweet heaven, no.” They laughed together. “Every delivery requires a drink, of course. If not for a little boost of magic here and there, they would have had to drag me into the building to talk to you.”
“Been there. It’s better than digging ditches, though.”
“Definitely.” The woman lowered her gaze to meet her superior’s. “So, what’s up? You’re not quite yourself.”
“You know me that well, do you?” The peevish comment escaped unintentionally and she waved a hand to dismiss it. “Yeah, I know you do, so ignore that. It’s been a difficult evening. I had too much time in my own head.”
“Well, if you want to get out and join us on the deliveries again, you’re always welcome.”
Usha was sure she hadn’t imagined the hint of advice-giving in her tone. It was true, though. She had been cooped up inside the club more or less constantly, except for occasional trips to visit the Empress. Which are far fewer and more between than I’d like. She shook her head. “I’m needed here. Plotting and planning, the spider monitoring her web.”
“It’s your curse to be so brainy.” The sarcasm was delivered perfectly, and they both broke into laughter.
“You’re such a wench. You’re lucky you dress so well or you’d be out on your behind.”
“I’m sure I could find someone to take my behind—and the rest of me—in.”
She shook her head. “I surrender. I’m entirely too tired to be a worthy opponent.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “It’s time to shift into the endgame.”
Danna had entered her apartment building under the watchful eye of one of the Atlantean gang members. She could have portaled but Usha believed
in maintaining an image, and that included expensive cars with drivers. She claimed it was good for the new recruits, too, to spend time in the presence of the leaders. Especially the men, who sometimes took longer than expected to fully come around to the idea that the top two positions had been earned by women because of their abilities and nothing more.
She climbed the stairs as quickly as her fancy black heels would allow. As soon as she had closed and locked the doors, she pressed the switch to trigger the lights to perform their nighttime routine. Ozahl had put the system together for her. A small computer attached to wireless sockets would play one of six sequences to make it look like she was still present. Before the lamp that suggested she was walking to the bedroom activated a minute later, the space was empty.
Less than a second later, she materialized in the single place in Ozahl’s apartment where the wards would recognize her and permit her access, a walk-in closet. The motion-sensing light slowly illuminated, and she chuckled again at the fact that her partner had literally hidden her in a closet. She shook her head, pulled the door open, and stepped out into the bedroom.
Once she’d changed into comfortable clothes, she fell onto the king-sized mattress and sighed with pleasure to finally be off her feet. A light doze crept up on her and sucked her in. When she awoke, it was to her lover’s lips on hers. They spent time wrapped in each other’s arms and reveled in the closeness. Eventually, he shifted to lay on his back and she put her head on his chest.
