Evil Waking (Magic Trackers Book 3)

by Michael La Ronn

  Evil Waking

  Magic Trackers: The Mage Book 3

  Michael La Ronn

  Copyright 2018 © Michael La Ronn. All rights reserved. Published by Ursabrand Media.

  Cover Design by Lou Harper © 2018.

  Editing by BZ Hercules.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, dialogue, and incidents described in this publication are fictional or entirely coincidental.

  No part of this novel may be reproduced or reprinted without permission of the publisher. Please address inquiries to info@michaellaronn.com.

  1

  Ten feet.

  That was the distance between me and a flesh-eating demon that wanted to rip my face off.

  The Somnient stalked toward me, a stocky, compact beast that looked like a demonic pit bull with a cavernous mouth of spiky yellow teeth. The smell of sulfur and rotten eggs poured from its mouth, making me want to vomit. It dragged its gnarly claws, leaving a trail of melting snow and rocks behind it.

  The beach around us was filled with snow-capped rocks. Running wasn’t an option.

  Behind me, the ice cracked on Lake Linette, the city’s great lake that was oh-so-beautiful in the summer, but a major problem for me now because I had nowhere else to run. In the overcast sky, the lake was a gray wasteland, its waves frozen in mid-crest.

  I stepped back, and my foot hit a rock. I tripped and stumbled, but I regained my balance, jumping onto the rock.

  The Somnient growled, baring its teeth.

  “Seriously,” I said. “You have nothing better to do than eat people’s minds from the inside out, do you?”

  The Somnient roared.

  “It’s negative bazillion degrees outside,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be hibernating?”

  The Somnient closed the gap, pouncing onto a rock.

  “I keep hoping that one of these days when I talk to you demons, that you’ll talk back, and we can conversate or something,” I said. “Actually, forget I said that. I don’t even want to know what your voice would sound like. It would probably sound like the apocalypse.”

  I jumped backward, landing on another rock nearby. Needed to keep my distance.

  I hadn’t seen a Somnient since I killed the demon king a while back. The demon population decreased since then, and Somnient sightings were down across the city, which meant I could spend less time demon hunting and more time doing things I loved, like being with my cousins, drinking Prosecco, watching Star Trek…

  Any day I didn’t have to deal with these dream-eating demons was a good day.

  Now I had to figure out exactly how I was going to dismantle this demon before it made a mess of my client’s dream.

  The bitter cold wind blew, damn near knocking me off the rock.

  That’s the kind of winter we were having in Kemiston this year—it was cold, even in people’s freaking dreams.

  A dreamlike voice spoke from above.

  “Didn’t take this bad boy long to show up,” Destiny said.

  She was watching the dream, even though she wasn't physically with me. On a day like this, I envied her for not having to do the hard work.

  “Won’t take me long to get rid of him,” I said.

  Reaching into the air, I felt dream ether pulsating all around me. It buzzed through my body.

  I grinned at the Somnient.

  “Last chance to repent for your foolish ways, talk to Jesus, or do whatever it is that you demons do to be saved,” I said.

  Nothing. The demon didn’t even crack a smile.

  “Okay,” I said. “Now it’s time for me to rip your face off.”

  “Cuz, strike your pose and do a quarter turn,” Destiny said. “You know, like they do in the magazines.”

  “Really?” I asked. “You're giving me posing directions while I fight?”

  “Not me,” Destiny said. “It's the client’s photographer.”

  I pulled the dream ether into my hands, and I willed it to become bright lines of light that swirled all around me like an overexposed photo.

  I extended my hands as if I were shooting the light at the Somnient.

  Winking, I willed the rock to disappear, knocking the Somnient onto its stomach.

  “More,” Destiny said.

  “More?” I asked. “That wasn’t good enough?”

  “The wizard tech thingy won’t work right unless you keep going,” Destiny said. “He says to drag this fight out a bit more.”

  “Has this photographer ever fought a Somnient before?” I asked. “I shouldn't let this thing live for too much longer.”

  “Girl, will you just shut up and pose?” Destiny asked angrily.

  Sighing, I composed myself.

  The demon jumped to its feet.

  I smiled, putting on my best confident smile, imagining myself in a photo shoot.

  Because I was in a photo shoot.

  Well, kind of.

  A real life demon hunt slash photo shoot with no camera, that is.

  Ever since we saved the city from a nightmare train hell-bent on death, we were minor celebrities. The city’s news magazine wanted to feature us. Darius was recording my every move with one of his wizard tech thingies that I had no idea how to explain.

  “Time to have some fun with this,” I said.

  I flipped into the air, spinning several times as I willed the dream ether to gather above me.

  I stretched, hung in the air, holding out my hands.

  “There you go, girl,” Destiny said. “Make the clouds gather around you. That would be hot.”

  “Umm, that's a little too X-Men for me,” I said, sending a wave of ether into the Somnient, knocking it across the snow.

  I flew through the maze of rocks, focusing my gaze on the snow.

  A column of it rose high into the air, and I created an opening in the middle and willed it to spin over me.

  I held up my hands.

  “Yeah, baby,” Destiny said. “Make that snow fly around.”

  “Your commentary is creeping me out,” I said, swinging my hands, burying the Somnient in a pile of snow.

  “Blow some wind in your hair,” Destiny said. “You've got a few strands falling down over your eyes.”

  “He doesn't like that?” I asked.

  “It's not flattering,” Destiny said.

  I swirled my arms and redirected the cold wind into my face, manipulating my hair. The wind was so strong, it pulled my weave ponytail back.

  Yeaaaaah…I was wearing weave today. A girl’s gotta pull out her finest for a photo shoot. Don't judge.

  “Looks good,” Destiny said. “Do that other thang that I like.”

  “You mean this?” I asked.

  I stomped the ground several times. The air pulsed around me in pockets.

  I clapped my hands.

  The pulsing air became sweltering pockets of heat.

  I stomped and clapped in a hip-hop rhythm.

  The demon circled me, unsure what I was doing.

  I accelerated the rhythm and the pockets flared like subwoofers, bouncing to the beat.

  I materialized a black fedora in my hand—Michael Jackson style—and I put it on my head, cocking it halfway.

  “Can I finish this thing already?” I asked, turning around as I stomped.

  I had a nice rhythm going. Too bad there was nobody around to record it.

  “He likes this shot,” Destiny said. “Go ahead and finish.”

  “The wooooooords I've been waiting to hear,” I sang.

  I dipped, rolling my shoulders down, and I shimmied back up.

  “You are sinspawn,” I said. “You have no right to exist in my world.”

  The demon growle
d.

  I cocked my fedora back, kicked out, spun, and pointed at the demon.

  “May God grant you serenity upon your return to the underworld,” I said. “May one day you wake up and see the blessed goodness of the holy spirit.”

  The demon leaped at me, but I snapped my fingers and pointed at it MJ style, and the pockets of air spewed fire, roasting the demon in place.

  Circling up some dream ether, I sprinkled some into the air, keeping the demon in place.

  Clapping and stomping, I said, “Be gone!”

  The demon cried as if pierced by a knife. It screamed as the fire raged all over its body.

  I jumped onto a rock and swung my hands up into the air, rotating my wrists like a dancer.

  “Be gone,” I said again.

  Holy light emanated from within the demon’s body, mixing in with the fire.

  In a blink of an eye, I materialized above the demon, high in the sky, rotating with golden dream ether swirling around me. In a graceful swipe of my hands, I sent the ether flying at the demon.

  “Be gone!” I shouted.

  The demon shattered into a million pieces as if its body were made of glass. The shards crashed into the snow.

  I landed on a rock, hands tugging the collar of my leather jacket. I couldn't see myself, and I'm no judge of my facial expressions, but I'm pretty sure the look on my face right now was damn sexy.

  The holy light disappeared, leaving me alone on the snowy beach.

  “Girl,” Destiny said. “The director is gushing right now.”

  “I bet he is,” I said.

  The sky faded. The clouds disappeared, leaving behind only darkness and shadows.

  The snow turned black as the rocks.

  The dreamscape was dissolving.

  “Are we done here?” I asked.

  “Done,” Destiny said.

  Finally.

  “I thought you'd never say the word,” I said.

  “I thought you’d never leave a dream exactly when I told you,” Destiny said, laughing.

  “Let's take a look at these photos, shall we?” I asked.

  I closed my eyes and jumped out of the dream.

  2

  I materialized in a photo studio, in a maze of umbrella lights.

  I landed on a long gray backdrop.

  A flash temporarily blinded me.

  When the stars in my eyes faded, I saw a man in a blazer and thick blue glasses with a camera smiling at me.

  My client.

  “That was fantastic, Aisha,” the photographer said. “That bit with the fedora—brilliant!”

  “Glad you liked it,” I said.

  “That pose really emphasizes that you are the city’s premier dream mage,” the photographer said.

  “Whoa, you're being way too kind,” I said.

  “After saving the city on your last adventure, everyone wants to know who Aisha, Darius, and Destiny Robinson are,” the photographer said. “Like it or not, you guys are famous.”

  Sure, we saved the city from a nightmare train, and it was kind of a big deal, but we weren't letting it go to our heads.

  But I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn down the money the magazine photographer was offering for this photo shoot, or the chance to get some exposure in the magazine through the article they were writing about me. That was good for business. Compared to demon money or shady customers, this was the kind of money I could believe in.

  A hand appeared in front of me. I grabbed it, and Destiny pulled me up.

  “Nice job, cuz,” she said.

  In the corner of the studio, a middle-aged woman in a blue dress sat up on a cot, rubbing her eyes. She was hooked up to an EEG machine.

  The creative director.

  “Wow, that dream was something else,” she said.

  “It could have been so much worse,” I said. “But I will say—the beach you dreamed of was lovely. I didn't have to change a thing.”

  “Do you think we’re going to cause some controversy with this?” Destiny asked. “I mean, we attracted a Somnient solely for the purpose of killing it during a photo shoot.”

  “It was going to die anyway,” I said. “Someone else would have killed it.”

  “Agree,” the creative director said. “Let us handle the controversy. It's what we do best.”

  Someone cursed.

  Darius was sitting at a table in front of a black machine with several rows of glittering lights. The machine reminded me of a sound mixer with a screen, except it was covered in a film of green magic, which oozed around it like plasma.

  “This damn thing,” Darius said, kicking it. “Why don't you ever want to work, huh?”

  “You a’ight, cousin?” I asked.

  “Of all the days you choose not to work, you want to pick today!” Darius shouted at the machine.

  “This isn't going to be a problem, is it?” the photographer asked, frowning. “The whole shoot is predicated on being able to obtain photos from the dream.”

  “I'll get it fixed,” Darius said. “This thing is just tricky, that's all.”

  The creative director took off her EEG pads and joined Darius at the machine.

  “What exactly is this thing?” she asked.

  “It’s a dream resonance machine,” Darius said. “DRI for short. But I call him Dre. It's a piece of wizard tech. It picks up brain waves, and it can also detect dream ether. It synthesizes both of those together to create an image of the dreamscape.”

  “I'll be damned,” the photographer said.

  “I picked this thing up at an old sale,” Darius said. “The newer machines give much clearer images, but this one’s pretty good. When it works.”

  He smacked the machine.

  “You hear that, Dre?” he asked. “There are cardboard boxes out there that work more consistently than you, dog.”

  Here we went again. Darius fighting with machines. Every time it happened, he went from an eighteen-year-old to a curmudgeon in ten seconds flat, talking nonsense until the machine worked or he gave up. Reminded me of an old cartoon picture of a duck taking a hammer to a PC. It was hilarious.

  “Dre, Dre, Dre,” he said, climbing behind the machine. “I don't even take you out of the house. First time I do, you want to act a fool in front of some important-ass people. Did you take your medicine today?”

  He fiddled with some wires, unplugging one and plugging in another.

  “Well, it ain't your assembly panel, cuz I done changed that last year. LAST YEAR, a’ight?”

  I shook my head.

  I didn't mind him going off on Dre, but not in front of clients.

  “D, you do what you gotta do,” I said.

  I turned to the photographer.

  “Why don't we finish the rest of the shoot while we’re waiting?” I asked.

  “Sounds good,” the photographer said. “I'll photograph you and Destiny. We can insert Darius in later.”

  Destiny cackled. “You hear that, D? He says yo ass is so ugly that he's gonna have to edit you into the photo.”

  “I've photographed uglier dudes, if that makes you feel better, Darius,” the photographer said, winking.

  Darius’s face went long.

  “Ha. Ha,” he said. “If I was ugly—and that's a big IF reserved for judgment only by the good Lord—you twice as ugly as me, Destiny.”

  Destiny cupped her hands to her mouth and said, “Weak comeback!”

  “Will you just turn into a hippo or whatever take the damn photos?” Darius asked. “If you haven't noticed, I got shit to do.”

  He went back to troubleshooting Dre, cursing and mumbling to himself as he crawled underneath the table.

  Destiny snickered.

  “I couldn't help myself,” she said as the photographer positioned us next to each other on the backdrop.

  “Now I want you both to pretend that you're the most famous people in the city,” photographer said. “I mean, you are. But I want confidence and radiance.”

 
; “You mean this?” I asked, putting a hand on my hip, posing.

  Destiny folded her arms.

  Flash!

  We turned.

  Flash!

  “Aisha, let me see you tilt your head back and laugh,” the photographer said.

  I did it.

  Flash!

  “Destiny, turn into a falcon and perch on Aisha’s arm,” the photographer.

  We did it. I looked at Destiny, trying to channel the wisdom of a falconer. Ha!

  Flash!

  About a hundred flashes later, I could hardly see. Stars danced across my vision and it took me a minute to focus.

  Darius whooped.

  “Awww yeah,” he said. “That'll teach you! Boo-yah, baby!”

  He waved at us. Then he snapped his fingers. Dre hummed and the instrument panel glowed. The magic surrounding it flowed quicker as images appeared on its screen.

  “It's working finally,” I said.

  “Dre and I have a love-hate relationship,” Darius said. “But it's all good, ain’t it, Dre?”

  The images appeared blurry at first, but Darius grabbed a stool and sat down, manipulating Dre’s many knobs and sliders until the images became clearer.

  “Look at him on his little Etch A Sketch,” Destiny said. “Isn't he the cutest thing you ever saw?”

  “You got jokes today,” Darius said. “You sure you want to go to Lakeway University? Maybe you oughta try stand-up comedy.”

  I tapped Destiny on the shoulder.

  “Knock it off,” I whispered.

  Meanwhile, Darius adjusted the images. Snapping his fingers, he cast a spell on the screen that made the colors brighter and the darks darker. After a final knob turn, he beheld his work.

  On the screen was an image of me, wreathed in dream ether, hands pointed at the Somnient, with the fedora cocked. I looked damn good.

  Darius cycled through the images, all of me in fighting poses.

  Hmm, maybe I should have been a model.

  Naw, maybe not. I was pretty happy with my current career choice as a dream mage. But these images were a boost to my self-esteem, especially when I realized that the photographer was going to use a photo editor to make me look even better.

  “Lookin’ beautiful as ever,” Destiny said.

  “Can you send those to me so I can manipulate them?” the photographer asked.