California Imperium

by Aaron Crash

  He remembered.

  Tessa swallowed. She’d turned a whole shade paler, but she tried to joke her way out of it anyway. “Yeah, so, let’s not start opening doors in haunted houses, not until we have proton packs and a catchy theme song.”

  Steven moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Hey,” she said, leaning into him.

  “Hey, dork. I liked the Ghostbusters reference.”

  “Of course you did. You keep me around for my vast knowledge of unimportant things.”

  “Yeah. Without you, I’d have to watch more Bollywood movies to keep up with Aria.” He grew somber. “Listen, Tessa, I can do this. But more importantly, I have to. The only way I can progress along the Path of the Mirror-Souled Dragon is if I perfect all the Veneficium abilities. I was able to do HeartStrike, thanks to Mathaal and his final sacrifice, but we need AnimusChain and FleshForge.”

  Steven wondered if Tessa would be able to join him in learning those two skills. He doubted it. She couldn’t do HeartStrike because that hinged on IonClaws, and as a Magician, Tessa had no access to the Pugna abilities. While Sabina might get there when she became a Dragonskin, until then it was up to Steven.

  Tessa knew all that. They’d talked about it a hundred times. A smile quirked her lips. “You’re right. I keep forgetting that you, me, and Sabina are badass masters of magic. You should try and cast portal magic, Steven. Only, I’m scared... sure, of space demons, yeah, but there’s other stuff going on with me. At first, I couldn’t wait to see what was waiting for us on the Oregon coast. Now? I’m not sure I want to know.” She exhaled and hung onto his arms. “It felt normal when I dropped out of high school. I was a loser. My family was fucked. The world was fucked.”

  Tessa’s life had been rough. Her father had died. Her half-brother was diagnosed with a rare case of MS that had crippled him. While Tessa was good with her mother and sister now, back then, they’d fought constantly. Tessa had even lived in a car for a while.

  “Being a loser felt normal, Steven. But here I am, one of the most powerful Magicians on Earth. How can that be? I wanted to be special, but you can be special in the wrong way, you know?” She sighed again.

  “I do.” Steven loved Tessa. She’d been his crush when he was just a kinda pathetic human kid wielding a mop in a coffee shop and getting bullied by the waitstaff.

  Tessa eased back. There weren’t tears in her eyes, but her face was troubled. “I’m afraid, now. All the time. And so of course, when you ask me about portal magic, my first emotion is fear. If you think you’re ready, let’s do it. It’ll be awesome. Though opening portals feels like someone taking a can opener to your colon. Trust me.”

  Steven wanted to talk to Tessa about Zoey, but it wasn’t the time. For the foreseeable future, he didn’t expect to be separated from the bear girl for long. The unexpected, though, was pretty likely. Especially in the life of a Dragonsoul.

  “I’m going to run this past Liam,” Steven said.

  “That’s not going to go well.”

  Steven laughed because she was so right.

  ON A SKYPE CALL, STEVEN told Liam Strider his plan. He was going to have Tessa shift the static portal from Denver to Cheyenne, like she had during their desperate fight in Odessa. Then Steven would cast his own doorway, piggybacking on the existing wormhole. His intent was to hide his magic from the Zothoric.

  Liam hit the ceiling. Like Tessa predicted, it didn’t go well.

  In the end, after some frowning and enough warnings to scare Daredevil into an early retirement, the Yellow Ronin realized he couldn’t talk his student out of it. “You are a Drokharis,” Liam finally said with a sigh. As if that explained everything.

  CHEYENNE WAS ABOUT ninety-seven miles from Denver. But the Infinity Ranch was exactly a hundred miles away. This was important because the J.W. Marriott in Vail was also a hundred miles away.

  That night, in the north gardens that separated the main castle from Sabina’s bungalow, Steven built a bonfire in the middle of the summoning circle, which was in the same pattern that they’d used to summon Mathaal, God rest the old dragon’s soul.

  Steven had commissioned an artist to sculpt a fountain in the shape of a white alabaster dragon with water pouring out of his claws. It was out of respect for Old Matchstick, one of the three Alpherian dragons to come to Earth fifty thousand years ago.

  Right now, that basin was empty. It wouldn’t be in a minute.

  Steven, dressed in an expensive gray suit, no tie, set up a chest-high portable stand in front of the fire. He tossed a log into the conflagration. The sparks reached up to a star-washed sky, and a chill breeze gnawed on his bones. The pine smoke from the fire smelled good, sweet in a smoky way, and that comforted Steven. He was nervous. He’d be a fool not to be.

  Bud had coordinated things with Morty Flint. The Dragonlord of the Great Lakes Primacy had flown in his own jet to Vail and was waiting for Steven in the penthouse suite of the J.W. Marriott there. He’d brought only two wives with him. That was the agreement. Steven would bring two women as well.

  Chastity and Prudence came strutting out in red evening gowns that hugged their curves. Their scarlet heels matched the dresses. They had sparkly red purses hanging off their shoulders by strings. The fact that their delicious cleavage still managed to draw his eyes amid all that red was a country western Christmas miracle.

  To top it off, they were carrying assault rifles: Heckler & Koch 416s, laser-targeted, extended clips, folding stock, and front grips. Sex and death, right there.

  Identical twins, both had strawberry blonde hair, freckles that made you want to kiss their skin, and eyes so light brown that they could trick you into thinking they were green.

  “Extra ammo in the purses?” Steven asked.

  Pru stopped, put the assault rifle on her shoulder, and clicked open the little purse. “Yes, I do believe I might have your sanity in here, Stevie.”

  Chazzie frowned. “Come on, girl, don’t you be getting scary on us. Steven, and he does like to be called Steven, has it all planned.” She gave him a big smile. She, at least, had faith in him.

  “I do, Patience,” Steven joked. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”

  Pru didn’t look convinced. She did look gorgeous, though—full makeup, hair teased out, and just enough slutty there to make it fun. “All I know is if you walk through that portal, fall on your knees, and puke, that’s going to leave us in a poor position with Morty. Don’t be fooled. He will smile like he’s your father, offer up advice like your grandfather, but all the while he’ll be sniffing at your butt like a junkyard dog, wondering if he can take you. Or if you’d be willing to play ball his way. He’s going to make you an offer, Steven, ’cause he certainly doesn’t understand who you are and what you want.”

  “At least he’ll know what I can do,” Steven said.

  Mouse came out with her arms crossed, a scowl on her face. Zoey stood behind her. They were quite a pair. Zoey towered over the slim blonde. Next to her, Mouse seemed only about as big as one of the werebear’s thighs. Yet it was Mouse who had taken Zoey under her wing.

  Sabina emerged from her bungalow in a thick dress with leggings. The Latina Magician’s eyes glowed green. She was thin, almost gaunt, from the fasting and rigor of the Dragonskin rituals. Her skin, which had been a lovely bronze when Steven first met her, had taken on a sickly yellow tint.. She’d managed to survive the ceremonial burning, but it had left her shaken. She was almost there, though. All that was left was for her to achieve True Form, and then she would be a full Dragonskin. Liam thought in another month, she would be ready to try.

  Sabina came out to watch with her strange vision, a mixture of the past, the present, and the future. She avoided the lawn ornaments and low walls easily. Sabina hadn’t pursued Magica Porta spells beyond the very barest entry-level skill because of the Dragonskin rituals. There had been that one time in France, though, when she and Tessa had opened a portal, but they’d used a scr
oll to do it.

  Aria flew in as a scarlet dragon, fifteen feet long. The heat from her body washed over them, as did the sweet cinnamon spice of her scent. She growled and nodded her head. “Namaste, Steven. We will join you in Vail shortly. Skylar is in Cheyenne getting the jet ready. We will take extra supplies, more guns for the twins, as well as all our magical artifacts. Bud will send a security team from Magnox Securities to watch over the Infinity Ranch. Remember, if Morty Flint tries to betray you, kill him.” She snorted fire from her nostrils. “Kill him twice.”

  “Three times, sugar, ’cause we’re ladies.” Chazzie racked her action on the H&K.

  “And we certainly like to kill things dead,” Pru added.

  Tessa was the last to emerge, carrying the third volume of the Drokharis Grimoire. Tessa walked through the muck in her heavy coat. She opened the book and set it on a stand. She flicked through pages until she found the schematics of the Magica Porta spell, how it channeled Animus out of the magic-user and into the fire. At higher levels, neither water nor fire were required.

  It was going to be a two-step enchantment. Tessa would channel the water from the Denver Americos Chamber to the Infinity Ranch’s dragon fountain. She would keep the other end in India, focusing it into a cistern of an abandoned palace south of Vapi. Then Steven would swirl a portal in the flame, mixing the fire and the water, and in this way, they hoped to hide the portal from any prying eyes, whether in this world or in whatever nightmarish hellscape the Zothoric called home.

  Tessa stepped up next to him, drew him down, and gave him a long, hot, wet kiss that gave him an erection and an extra dose of Animus.

  “Damn, that certainly is a kiss for the ages,” Pru whispered, voice thick.

  Chazzie murmured, “I do believe I just made soup in my panties.”

  “You ain’t wearing panties,” Pru tsked.

  “Ain’t talking about soup.” Chazzie cleared her throat.

  Steven stepped back.

  Tessa, blushing red, laughed. “Chazzie, Pru, you guys are awesome. Vulgar, but awesome.” She turned to Steven. “Okay, Steven. Let’s me and you work some magic. Magica Porta!” Her face twisted in pain. Sweat dripped from her forehead, and her hair went limp even as a pink light filled her eyes.

  The empty fountain basin filled with glowing blue water until it rose above the marble rim. The water swirled like a liquid tornado. Every droplet shone with sapphire radiance.

  This was it. Steven went through the schematics in the book while Tessa grunted next to him. She was straining. This was brutal work.

  He readied himself.

  Magica Defensio and Magica Impetim spells were similar, creating physical objects out of his own Animus, either to shield him or to attack. Magica Cura and Magica Incanto both imbued either flesh or metal with parts of his Animus, either to knit flesh together or to alter the energy of an item, like an arrow or the bullets inside Pru’s and Chazzie’s assault rifles.

  Magica Divinatio was a more aggressive spell, forcing one’s consciousness into the flow of the universe to see into the ever-shifting future. It was like standing at a dirty window while on the other side your entire life marched by. You brushed away the grime to be given a glimpse of your past, present, or future.

  But Magica Porta was the most radical of all. In the present moment of his life, he was cutting a hole in the window with a diamond, just enough to allow himself to pass through, but not enough to shatter that window.

  From what Steven had read in the Drokharis Grimoire, that was what the Zothoric were looking for: errant cracks they could follow to the source. That was why using the existing portal was so dangerous. Time wasn’t involved, only space, and compared to the vast infinities of space, a few hundred miles weren’t an issue.

  The door between Denver and Mumbai shifted to the right, connecting Cheyenne and Vapi. Steven was going to try to carve his own window into that door to create a portal that would lead to Vail.

  It had to be exact. Failure might kill him or bring the Zothoric down on them all.

  “Any time now!” Tessa growled through clenched teeth.

  “It’s safe,” Sabina called out above the crackling fire and the whirling vortex of water above. “No one is watching. Create your doorway. Cut through the world, Steven.”

  Steven grinned. He knew how to cut things with his IonClaws. He kept that in mind as he gathered up his Animus. In a mighty voice, he called out into the night, “Magica Porta!”

  It was like being pierced with a spear. The Animus inside him, in his core, exploded outward, so suddenly, so violently, he barely caught it, or else it might’ve disappeared completely or exploded inside him.

  Like IonClaws—this was all so like IonClaws, only he wasn’t turning his hands into supernaturally sharp laser beams, but using the element of fire to carve his window.

  And that was what he pictured, carving a circle of fire into Tessa’s doorway of water.

  He couldn’t help it. He turned his right hand into that of a clawed Homo Draconis. The enlarged limb split the sleeves of his shirt. His talons flashed with a blinding light. He circled them, and the fire listened, whipping into a cyclone.

  “Be careful, Steven!” Zoey wailed.

  He thought he heard Mouse cough out a sob.

  They thought this was a mistake. It wasn’t. This was easy, compared to Magica Divinatio. He’d had trouble controlling that power because part of the spell was relaxing into it. With portal magic, this was his will, and his will alone.

  And he’d sharpened his will over the years, slaving away, getting up when he didn’t want to, staying up when he longed for sleep, working for the good of his mother, working to be a good man, working to pay the bills,, studying, bending his will to his determination.

  This was exactly the same.

  In his mind’s eye, he saw the fire burning on the redwood deck connected to the penthouse suite of the Marriott in Vail. His fire joined with Tessa’s water, and when the two met, steam erupted, spinning in a circle, opening a portal outside the Vail suite.

  “Well, fuck me running,” Chazzie said. “This is not like anything I’ve ever seen before.” She went through the portal of fire, water, and steam.

  Pru sighed. “You certainly can’t run and fuck at the same time, though I don’t believe it was meant to be taken literally.” She touched her head. “Neither the fire nor the steam is going to help my hair any. Oh well.” She followed her sister.

  Steven knew that once he walked through the portal, he’d be out of Animus, and he’d be hurting. He also knew he wasn’t going to show Morty Flint any kind of weakness no matter how drained he felt.

  His stepfather, Joe Whipp, had been a gambler. Steven knew about keeping a poker face, bluffing the other fucker down, even when you had pocket deuces.

  He walked through the portal, the first he’d created using his own magic.

  It wouldn’t be the last. He was a Drokharis, after all.

  Chapter Three

  PRU WALKED OUT OF THE ring of fire and onto the redwood deck at the top of the Rocky Mountains in Vail, Colorado. She stood next to her sister, assault rifles across their bare freckled shoulders. They faced a wall of sliding glass doors. In better weather, you could open the entire side of the suite to mingle during indoor/outdoor parties. The deck itself was luxurious, with a gas fireplace burning, a hot tub steaming, and a bar with heaters above it, fighting the elements even as snow drifted down from the night sky.

  Pru thought this whole magic doorway gambit might be a mistake. Steven was going to walk through weak, and if Morty Flint noticed, this meeting could be Steven’s last. On the other hand, showing up by way of a forbidden Portal spell? That was ballsy.

  Inside the suite, Morty popped up from his comfy chair. Two women were with him, in dresses that were basically lingerie for all the skin they covered... and revealed. Those two sure were beautiful.

  Well, Morty Flint hadn’t brought his wives, that was clear. Because Prudence Wayne ce
rtainly didn’t know them, and she had memorized all Morty Flint’s forty-three wives. Most were stay-at-home types, not a lot to comment on, except for a couple that were downright bloodthirsty. Carrie Needles and her partner, Agatha Clutch, those two would be hard to take down. Needles and Clutch had become infamous. Morty also had a murderer on his payroll, a psychopath named Cort Calot that he kept on a chain. Sometimes literally.

  Morty Flint opened the sliding glass doors and strode out. He was the type of heavy-jowled, big-bellied man who lived to slap other men on the backs and fill their drinks, and of course, he’d have a Cuban for you. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, but with Dragonsouls, it was so hard to tell. He had a massive ring on his left pinky finger and dark eyes that never caught up with the smile on his face. Power radiated off him.

  Morty grinned at the twins, and Prudence felt her heart beat faster. Morty Flint was no joke. Over the decades he’d forged an empire, creating a Primacy that surrounded the Great Lakes and spread up north into Quebec. Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio—he owned them all.

  Pru had to admit, if things with Steven didn’t pan out, she and Chazzie could take out Needles and Clutch and slide on up to become Morty Flint’s number one wives. Yeah, he’d be a sweaty one in bed, but already that sly old sexy Dragonsoul charm was working its magic on her. It made fucking easy. It muddied the waters for most everything else. Pru scratched at her left ring finger, where her wedding band used to be. It had melted away when Steven took out Carlo Bart. Yet, for Pru, as well as Chazzie, it had been a reminder of their true loyalties, which were to each other and their quest for power.

  They wanted it all. And they wanted it now. Or at least Pru did. Daddy had warned her that at some point, Chazzie would fall in L-O-V-E and Pru would have to take over; not a stretch there since she was the brains of the operation.

  Money and power, penthouse suites, control over her own destiny... fuck yes to all that shit. Pru wanted a life as grand as the balcony of the suite, with a fireplace that was currently acting as a doorway across reality, which was some serious magic; shit like that was fairy-tale stuff as far as Pru was concerned. Though here she was, a pretty little princess with a machine gun across her shoulder.