Evil Waking (Magic Trackers Book 3)

by Michael La Ronn

  “Done,” Darius said, pressing a button.

  “Thank you all,” the creative director said. “You've already given the info to the reporter for the article, so I would expect it to be out tomorrow. These photos won't take long for us to approve.”

  She handed me a check. Two thousand dollars for an hour’s worth of work.

  “Appreciate it,” I said, tucking the check into my jacket.

  “Darius, we’ll do your photo shoot now if you don't mind,” the photographer said.

  “You two want to stick around?” Darius asked. “I'm gonna have to take Dre to the repair shop when I'm done here.”

  “I've got coffee with a girlfriend uptown,” Destiny said, putting on her coat.

  “I've got to get back as well,” I said, patting the check in my pocket. “There's a bottle of Prosecco waiting for me that I've stood up way too many times. Will you be all right?”

  “I'm cool,” Darius said. “See y’all later.”

  I put on my coat and gave him a peace sign as Destiny and I walked out of the studio.

  3

  “You sure all this media coverage is such a good idea?” Destiny asked as we exited into the street.

  Surprisingly, though Kemiston was snowy as hell this winter, the snow wasn't falling. The sun shone, actually, the dusk light glowing like fire against the cars passing by.

  “We have to take our fame whenever we can get it,” I said as we walked down an avenue filled with old-school brick skyscrapers. Men and women in suits and long coats passed us, probably on their way home from work. There was a distant stink of bad perfume in the air, and I scrunched up my nose at it.

  “I don't know,” Destiny said. “The money’s nice, but it just makes me nervous.”

  “Nobody’s more nervous than me when it comes to money, you know that,” I said. “But this has been good for business.”

  Our clientele had tripled since we saved the city. Hell, people were coming in the door so fast we had to cut back our hours and raise our prices.

  Everyone, it seemed, wanted to see the powers of a dream mage in action.

  We ran an interesting business too. Most dream mages hid out of sight. None of them had a dream reading business like us. At least not like ours. Me and my cousins were an unorthodox crew, but our business gamble was paying off.

  I was going to milk every interview, article, and speaking appearance until they were gone.

  “Exposure rises and fades,” I said as we reached a crosswalk. We had the orange light to wait, and a crowd formed behind us. “Give it two or three months, and people will forget we ever existed. That's how business goes. It's a cycle, and we'd be stupid to not take advantage of it.”

  I nudged her.

  “How else are we going to pay for a car to get you back and forth to Lakeway University?” I asked.

  The pedestrian light turned white and I started across the crosswalk, leaving her behind.

  Destiny ran to catch up with me.

  “If you're saying what I think you're saying—” she said.

  “The money’s in the bank,” I said. “You can thank the Kemiston Globe’s speaker conference article for that. It’ll be a used car, cuz. I’m not buying you a Cadillac, a’ight?”

  “Girl, stop! Are you kidding me?” she asked.

  “The money is pouring in,” I said. “In a way, I guess the people in the city want to support us for what we did. I'm not one to turn away any good graces.”

  Destiny twitched her lips and looked down.

  “What's wrong?” I asked, my smile fading.

  “Look, I'm happy,” she said. “I'm really happy. But I'm just worried about the people that aren't gonna be so happy seeing us in the news.”

  “Why?” I snapped.

  “Umm, we’re black,” Destiny said. “And you and I are women. See a problem?”

  I stopped on the curb. A sharp wind blew, making me realize I didn't have my leather gloves on.

  “We’re not going to step away from anything because of our skin color,” I said, pulling on my gloves. “We’re put on this Earth to live our lives on our own terms, whether other people like it or not.”

  “Sounds great in theory,” Destiny said. “But in practice? Uh uh.”

  “Okay, by that logic, maybe we ought to end our business too,” I said. “Since heaven forbid us black folk do anything as scandalous as run a small business. I'll just sell the shop. You and D can take out loans for your schooling, and with your credit ratings, you'll probably end up in all kinds of debt, where black people REALLY get preyed on. I'll go and work for a corporation, where I can be miserable because there's no diversity and I'm just a peon. And then, any time life doesn't go the way we want it to, we won't have any excuse but to blame it on the color of our skin and our gender, because that's easy.”

  “That's not what I meant,” Destiny said. “You know that.”

  “That's exactly what you meant,” I said. “And it's bullshit. Nana would have kicked your ass halfway across the block by now.”

  I waited for the crowd to pass and then I spoke to her in a harsh whisper.

  “Of course I think about how people perceive us,” I said. “It's not exactly like there are other black dream mages in the news. But we can't back down. I'd rather be in business for myself and control my own fate than put it in somebody else’s hands.”

  Destiny wrinkled her lips. “You took this the wrong way.”

  “Did I?” I asked. “Tell me where I got it wrong.”

  Destiny shifted uncomfortably.

  “Nobody wants to see black people doing well,” Destiny said. “It just makes people jealous in all the wrong ways.”

  “That's their problem, not ours,” I said.

  Destiny jammed her hands in her coat.

  “Fine,” she said. “But don't say I didn't tell you so when shit happens. I'm outta here.”

  I grabbed her.

  “If all of us stayed low and didn't have the courage to blaze new paths, would the world get any better?” I asked. “Would the stigma of racism go away, cousin?”

  “That's a dumbass rhetorical question,” Destiny said.

  “Is it rhetorical or is it right?” I asked.

  “There you go again with another rhetorical question,” Destiny said.

  “Well?” I asked. “You brought it up, so you should have been prepared to get your ass kicked. You better remember that when you're sitting at graduation with a cap and gown, and you're being told to go out and change the world. If you don't have the fire and the drive to expand your horizons and live with some discomfort at the fact that not everybody is gonna be happy seeing you succeed, you better drop out now while you can, because can't nobody help you if you don't want to help yourself.”

  “I'll see you later,” Destiny said, shaking me off. She turned into a falcon and soared into the air, shrieking.

  I stared after her, shaking my damn head.

  I said what I had to say.

  But let me say this: life is what you make it. Doesn't matter who you are or where you come from; if somebody stood up (or sat down) for your right to do whatever the hell you want in life, then you better damn well exercise that right.

  I slid my earbuds out of my pocket.

  After that, I needed some music.

  I walked for a little while, serenaded by the voice of Janelle Monáe.

  I fingered the check a few times, making sure it was still there.

  I looked up at the sky.

  Sun was setting fast.

  I checked my watch. I wasn't going to catch the next bus. But if I took a cross street a few blocks over, there was another bus line I could catch that would get me home in about the same amount of time.

  I cut through a crowd of people, found my way down a side street, singing along to the music.

  When traffic was clear, I jaywalked across the street into an alley between two brick buildings.

  As I passed through, the current song on my ph
one ended.

  In the silence between two songs, I heard snow shift.

  I paused.

  A chill surged though me. And not the cold kind.

  A quick glance out of the corner of my eye, and I saw someone follow me into the alley.

  Shit.

  From the looks of it, a man.

  Double shit.

  I was halfway down the damn alley. I couldn’t exactly turn around.

  I pulled my earbuds out. Then I reached inside my coat and wrapped my hand around the cold handle of my pepper spray.

  I turned around.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The shadow stopped.

  It was definitely a man. But he was so far away that I couldn’t really see him.

  He said nothing.

  “Back off,” I said.

  Still, the man said nothing.

  He meant me harm. I could tell.

  Every bone in my body buzzed. My vision narrowed.

  I glanced behind me to make sure there was no one there.

  So much for taking a shortcut.

  “Last chance,” I said. “Back off.”

  The man didn't move.

  Something told me to run.

  And I did.

  My heart raced as he charged after me.

  4

  I wasn’t about to let this guy catch me.

  I left him far behind me in a quick sprint, but he slowly closed the gap.

  God, this alley was long!

  I was at least two hundred feet away from the nearest street, and it didn’t look like there was anyone on it. No one that would pass by and see me running from this creep.

  If they did, it would be easy—I could just scream. Woman running away from man in shadows—obvious trouble.

  But I didn’t see anyone on the street.

  I kept up my speed, avoiding a patch of ice.

  But the man didn’t give up. His footsteps were relentless.

  I was starting to wish Darius, Destiny, and I all rode home together.

  Closer now.

  I was closer now.

  I skirted around a dumpster, and so did he.

  His footsteps grew closer.

  My heart raced even faster. I could barely breathe.

  I glanced back.

  He was so close now I could almost see him, his face a gradient of stubble and shadow. He wore a stocking cap and all black.

  Let’s just say I didn’t feel like sticking around to learn more about his motivations.

  But he was closer now.

  Too fucking close.

  I pulled out the pepper spray, positioning my fingers on the nozzle.

  I was going to make this bastard eat a cloud. And then I was going to kick him in the nuts.

  He grunted.

  I could tell he was reaching for me.

  I spun, pointing the nozzle at him. I sprayed a long cloud in his face.

  He sputtered and coughed, clutching his eyes.

  I kicked him in the nuts.

  Sprayed him again.

  He collapsed and squirmed into the shadows.

  And then he spoke, a mixture of agony and laughter.

  “Nice to…see…you can defend yourself…dream mage,” he said.

  I turned to run.

  “You brought…disgrace on us,” he said. “Thanks for…ruining the profession.”

  He scrambled away, hands on his eyes.

  I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

  I drop-kicked him in the ass. He fell face-first into a patch of ice.

  “First,” I said, “come at me again and I’ll rip your face off. Second, assuming you’re a dream mage, I didn’t bring any disgrace on anybody. Third, fuck off.”

  I ran.

  When I made it to the street, I dashed across the road, dodging cars. Safely across, I looked back at the alley.

  The man was gone.

  I panted heavily. I still had the pepper spray in my hands.

  I stuck it in my coat and bolted for the bus stop a few blocks away, not looking back.

  5

  I rode the bus home in shock.

  I regarded every person I saw with suspicion, even though they didn't care I existed.

  That encounter rattled me in a way I had never been rattled before.

  Have I ever been jumped?

  Yeah, all the time when I grew up in the hood.

  But there was a big difference between someone jumping you for money and someone jumping you because of your magical powers.

  I was so shaken I couldn't think.

  I couldn't tell Darius or Destiny. Not yet. They would freak out.

  Still, I didn't know how to put what just happened to me in words.

  Someone just tried to hurt me.

  Why was I so afraid? Demons tried to hurt me all the time.

  There was something about your own life being threatened by another human that made you see things differently.

  My head floated like it wasn't even attached. I walked, feeling as though my arms and legs were separated from my body by spaghetti wires.

  As I climbed off the bus, I tripped, bumped into people, and slid across the icy sidewalk.

  I couldn't go home right away.

  I went to the nearest ATM and deposited the check from the photo shoot. Then I went to a nearby liquor store and bought myself a self-defense charm, a purple pendant that I hung around my neck. I don't know why I didn't carry one before.

  As I floated back to the shop, the moon split the clouds, golden and bright in the dark blue sky.

  On a night like this in the middle of winter when I could see stars, I should have been happy.

  But I was anxious. I was scared. I was pissed.

  I made my way down the street to my shop, and I was soooo happy to see my brownstone, the epitome of safety in my life.

  I shambled up the stairs, fumbling for my keys when the lights in the next brownstone turned on and a short Asian woman opened the front door, waving at me.

  “Aisha, hey!”

  Kathy Chen, my new neighbor. Crazy talkative. She was only five feet tall, but she could steamroll you with her words. And she was an even bigger nerd than I was. Super thick glasses, a corny laugh, and a wardrobe of t-shirts with quirky sayings on them (“You don't need to bite me. I already sparkle.”)—I loved her, but she was the last person I wanted to see right now.

  “I got a new wine recommendation for you,” she said.

  We both loved our wine. She was always recommending me something, even if I didn't ask for it.

  “Hey, Kathy,” I said. “Maybe I'll swing by later and get it from you. I’m a little occupied right now.”

  “Oh, it won't take long,” Kathy said. “Wait right there.”

  She shut the door.

  Part of me wanted to run into the house before she arrived.

  Sigh.

  She emerged with a bottle of red wine with a bow on it. “It's a Pinot blend called Charmwell. It's quite charming, if I do say so myself.”

  I accepted the bottle.

  “Thanks,” I said. “Maybe come tomorrow and we can drink some?”

  “Tomorrow sounds good,” Kathy said.

  I turned and slipped the key in the lock. That should have been her cue, but no…she kept talking.

  “I had the most incredible revelation today,” she said. “Arthur said I was crazy, but I guarantee you I'm not. Remember what I told you about that night?”

  I suppressed a groan, opening the door. Kathy brushed past me, into the shop lobby.

  “Yeah,” I said, annoyed.

  “I’m thinking it was fate,” Kathy said. She picked up a bundle of mail from the mail slot and handed it to me.

  “And what makes you say that?” I asked absent-mindedly.

  “When it happened, I…I…wasn't myself,” she said. She bounced up onto the front counter, next to the cash register.

  “It was like I was in another body,” she said. “An ethereal body, you
know?”

  Before I let her talk me into an early grave, you're probably wondering what the hell she was talking about.

  When Darius, Destiny, and I saved the city from the nightmare train, we didn't actually save the city.

  Not at first.

  To make a long story short, a wave of people died. But then they came back to life. Many of them reported out of body and near-death experiences. They took those to the media, which is how all the news outlets found out about us. I received letters from people all over the city who shared their amazing stories with me.

  Kathy just happened to be on Cross Avenue when she died and came back to life. Ever since she moved in a few weeks ago, I've been hearing different theories about what it all meant.

  I scanned the mail in my hand as Kathy continued, not really listening.

  “Uh huh,” I said. “I hear you.”

  One of the envelopes caught my attention. It was addressed to me by the Royal Society of Dream Mages. The handwriting was immaculate.

  “Hello?” Kathy asked.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “I asked you whether you think I should get a dream read,” Kathy said. “Just to be clear.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to think of something to say. “Umm, sure. Whatever you want.”

  “Arthur asked if I can get a discount since I’ve been a repeat customer so many times,” Kathy said.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  My eyes wandered down to the envelope again.

  Royal Society of Dream Mages.

  I had never heard of that before. Anytime I received something from a dream mage, they had my full attention.

  Well, maybe not this time.

  “Would twenty-five be okay?” Kathy asked. “I’ll bring you the next bottle of Charmwell I come across if you like it. Apparently, it’s a reserve.”

  “Twenty-five is fine,” I said, turning the envelope around.

  “Fancy letter there,” Kathy said, craning her neck at the bundle of mail in my hand. “I wonder if it’s another survivor?”

  “No idea, Kathy.”

  I started to open the envelope when I heard a faint creak from the stairwell.

  A black woman peeked out of the stairwell. She had red hair, black lipstick, and she was barefoot and still in pajamas. My cousin Niecy. She had come to stay with us for a few weeks.