Black Magic Outlaw: Books 1 - 3

by Domino Finn

  "Those people," I said. "You know those people."

  She lowered into the water (only up to her neck this time) and smiled weakly. "It's complicated," she said, mimicking my voice.

  She had jokes. "Who are they?"

  "I'd rather not get into it."

  "I want to know."

  She huffed and swallowed, but gave in. "I don't know really. Powerful people with a lot of money and even more friends."

  "How do you know the locals? I thought you were just on vacation."

  "You could say we kinda ran into them last night, and I don't want a repeat performance."

  Interesting. Maybe Jade could help me after all. "What can you tell me about them?"

  She shrugged. "Not much. I don't think they're locals either, but they walk around this hotel making demands like they own everything." Her face darkened. "And everyone."

  I turned to the cabana. I hated them already.

  The Hispanic man and woman were married, if I had to guess. Black hair surrendering to white, skin beginning to wrinkle. They spoke calmly and confidently and watched each other's backs.

  The two white guys were more standoffish, not as close but perhaps partners. One was rotund and dressed more casually, in a leisure jacket and polo. He had a mane of flowing red hair with a mustache and beard, thick but trimmed. The other was thinner and balding, somewhere north of forty. He had the nicest suit of the bunch, replete with pinstripes and large cufflinks on a bright-yellow button-up.

  Kita Mariko sat between both groups, not seeming to favor either side. She opened her satchel and set down a laptop, and fielded questions from everyone as she pulled up various files.

  A paper mage in the digital age. I wondered if she often lamented that.

  That spawned a worse thought. If Kita was an animist, like me, then what were the others? It wasn't that the Covey didn't do business with regular folk. I'd already witnessed such endeavors—Rudi Alvarez himself was a shadow puppet who didn't know the first thing about spellcraft. So I hoped that these men didn't have hidden power besides the money they exuded, but I wasn't confident.

  The discussion in the cabana became animated, and the red-haired man slammed a boisterous hand on the table. Everybody shook, including Kita Mariko. Including Jade sitting beside me in the hot tub. Her nails dug into my thighs again, and I knew the red-haired man was the one who had frightened her.

  "My sister must be waiting for me," she said hurriedly. "Maybe I'll see you around."

  I put my hand around her waist, trying to comfort her, trying to keep her from going. "You okay?"

  Her wide hips felt good in my hand, and she nuzzled closer to me in an embrace. Her lips tickled my ear and whispered, "Don't worry about me." Her voice was confident but her eyes wavered. She climbed out of the hot tub, stole my towel to hide her face, and headed inside the hotel.

  "Okay then," I said to myself, trying to slow my heartbeat.

  I turned my attention back to the cabana. The activity had calmed. The South Americans passed a USB key to Kita and she plugged it into her laptop. There were phone checks and handshakes. Apparently the dispute was over and it was transaction time. Unfortunately, there were no briefcases of cash for me to score. Business in the modern age. Kita Mariko finished up with the USB drive and handed it to one of the white men, but the cabana cover prevented me from seeing who.

  This was curious. Wasn't it normal for Rudi Alvarez to do the heavy lifting when it came to fund-raising? Politics were the last realm I'd claim to be an expert on, but this had all the makings of a back-door deal if I ever saw one. Then again, I'd found out the hard way that Kita Mariko was the brains of the Covey. The ghost of her own father had accused her of as much. Maybe she was the ringleader after all, working one new conspiracy after another. Part of me wanted that to be true. Then I could excuse her influence on Emily. Her own half sister had forced her to cooperate. I knew it to be true.

  The meeting broke up and everyone went their separate ways. The balding man to the bar for another whiskey, neat. The South Americans returned inside and Kita Mariko followed suit. I wasn't sure who to tail but I didn't want to lose Kita again. It had been two weeks since we'd clashed—I didn't want her to vanish for another two. But then I remembered the paper trail. Evan's plea for evidence. It wasn't about who to follow, but what. The USB drive.

  The red-haired man lounged in the cabana with a glass of red wine for some time more. He shuffled something in his jacket pocket. Neither him nor the man at the bar had bags or, from what I could tell, weapons. That didn't mean this would be easy, but I'd take what I could get.

  With Kita gone, I was no longer concerned with being recognized, so I hopped out of the pool and retrieved another towel from the desk. When I returned, the red-haired man was still in the cabana alone, now on his phone.

  I approached the bar and stood next to the balding man. "A Cuba Libre, please," I ordered. The bartender poured rum in a high glass. The man in the pinstripe suit didn't even glance at me. His tan hair was thinning but had strong enough comb-over skills that nobody could claim bald yet. How many more years that distinction would remain blurry was another question.

  The bartender filled my glass with cola, topped it with a lime, and slid it my way. "Would you like to charge it to your room?" he asked.

  "Cash." I stripped a bill from my wad and handed it to him. My cash reserves were running low but I wasn't dry just yet. I wondered what a night in a place like this would do to my balance.

  I rested my back against the bar and sipped my highball, watching the man in the cabana from a closer vantage. He had a strong nose and serious eyes. I pegged him in his mid forties but not due to wrinkles or graying. He simply had the air of a man who'd been around. Maybe that meant he was dangerous.

  "A last one," ordered the man in the pinstripe suit. "For the road." The bartender poured another whiskey and produced the check on request. The man walked it over to the cabana and dropped it on the coffee table. Between some murmuring, they closed the curtains of the cabana.

  I didn't like it. After meeting with shady South Americans and a representative of a dirty Miami politician, why the need for privacy now? I took a swig of my drink while deciding my course of action. Fortunately, the men emerged from the cabana before I made a dumb move. Instead of heading into the hotel, though, they rounded the building corner along an outside walkway. Street access from the outside.

  I was sure my cover was still intact. If Kita had seen me on her tail, she wouldn't have led me here. No one else knew who I was. Following them down that side path might be announcing myself. I wondered if they were spooked already, but shady deals require shady practices. Unexpected movements were probably standard fare with these guys.

  I decided to follow in my bare feet, navigated past beach chairs and a railing, and hurried into a jog. The afternoon on the swanky patio was nice, but I was outta here.

  Or so I had thought. As soon as I slipped around the corner, the balding man in the pinstripe suit was standing in my way. I jerked to a stop and peered over his shoulder, watching his partner slip away.

  "Excuse me," said the well-dressed man, holding his arms to block my path.

  I bet the red-haired man had the USB drive. I shoved the man in pinstripes aside to brush past him, a perk of my strong build. That was the plan, anyway, until a shockwave of lightning crackled between his fingers as they planted on my chest.

  I launched backward and hit the dirt, tasting blood in my mouth. My reaction was measured, rolling away onto my knees and facing the threat, but not skippy to the idea of waging a magical battle twenty feet from fat retirees on vacation. Good thing our little path wasn't crowded.

  "I'm truly sorry about that," said the man, brushing his hands on his jacket. "Think of that as a warning shot across the bow. Just to get your attention."

  I clenched my jaw and rose. My attention? He was another animist. He had it.

  Chapter 15

  I checked behind me. No incomi
ng ambush. Kita was still gone. There was, of course, the light crowd and patio staff. But here, in the alley along the building, it was just me and him.

  "You'd better know what you're getting into, Pinstripes," I warned gruffly.

  The mage smiled and adjusted the cuffs of his yellow shirt. "Simon. Simon Feigelstock, actually, but most stick to Simon."

  "I don't blame them. Now about you putting your hands on me..."

  Simon lifted his hands in the air. The gesture was meant to be easing, to show he held no weapons, but he and I both knew his weapons were the spirits. Which spirits exactly were anyone's guess.

  I scratched my chin and considered his lightning attack. "Zeus?" I guessed. Call it professional curiosity.

  He shook his head like I'd given him a report card with all Ds. "What is it with everyone? Zeus? I mean, thousands of deities throughout human history, the literal sum of all world belief in the Intrinsics, and the best you could come up with is Zeus?" He turned away as though someone would magically appear and hear his appeal, but it was still just us.

  "Don't take it personally, Simon. He was the first patron that came to mind."

  "Of course he was! That's exactly my point. People don't even think to consider Ishkur the Thunderer."

  I returned his gaze with a plain face.

  "You know," he started. "Ancient Sumer? The Fertile Crescent? This is World History 101."

  I shrugged. "I guess Mrs. Eddings glossed over the part about the Thunderer."

  He smiled cheekily. "Cute. But I'll have you know Ishkur is one of the originals. He's been around the block a tad more times than Opiyelguobiran, that's for sure."

  My face darkened, no magic involved. Simon knew the full name of my patron. He'd done his homework and probably knew all about me. "If you know who I am," I said carefully, "then you know getting into it right here's a bad idea."

  Simon checked his comb-over. "Right you are. As I said, I just needed to get your attention. I prefer civility when possible."

  I snorted. Over his shoulder and in the distance, Kita's rental car pulled along the drive and the red-haired man got in. They sped off. I should've marked her vehicle somehow.

  "Say what you came here to say," I muttered.

  "I respect you, Francisco."

  "Cisco."

  "Okay then. What you've accomplished. What you've acquired."

  The Horn of Subjugation. That was the only thing he could mean. A powerful artifact capable of manipulating South Florida's voodoo community, and I had it locked in a safe.

  "You have budding power," he continued. "A man of your background, I can respect that."

  "Then respectfully get out of my way."

  Simon chuckled nervously. He wasn't scared, however. Not that I could tell. He was simply working through how to explain something, as if speaking to a child. "You need to understand something, Cisco. What you're doing—it's bad business."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Bad for who?"

  "A collective of like-minded wizards."

  "You've got to be kidding me. A wizard's guild?"

  Simon smiled weakly. "Don't be so dramatic. We're not an ancient order of Templars or the Illuminati or anything."

  "So what then? A lodge? A bunch of guys who ditch their wives so they can dress in robes and hang around a man cave trading silly rituals?"

  Simon Feigelstock arched an eyebrow. "What is a man cave?"

  I sighed. "Look, there is no collective of like-minded wizards. Anyone with our kind of power's a narcissist. Good luck finding a pair that agree on anything."

  "Thank you for that fascinating bit of insight into the human condition." Simon rubbed the worn wrinkles on his forehead. "We are pragmatists. Businessmen with overlapping goals. We all work for ourselves, as you say, but find that aligning our efforts often yields more fruitful results. A weightier influence."

  "Collective bargaining," I concluded.

  "Now you've got it."

  "Sounds more like a cartel to me."

  Simon smiled, unfazed. "Cartels are good for business."

  I furrowed my brow. Was this guy for real? I used to love reading comics, but an accurate representation of life they were not. Magic might exist, but a secret collective of wizards sounded like a bad urban fantasy novel. Corporate interests or no, it was farfetched.

  "I've been around a while," I finally said. "How come I've never heard about you guys?"

  He laughed off the question with a snobby guffaw. He respected me, my ass. His tone switched to full-on elitist. "We don't deal with street-level enforcement."

  I snickered. "Fancy talk from a hired thug. The pinstripes aren't fooling anybody. You're dime-a-dozen cartel muscle, an enforcer protecting the interests of the bigger players."

  The man swallowed but didn't respond immediately. That told me I'd nailed it. He stepped closer and admitted as much with a nod. "You've got it all figured out, Cisco. That means you know it's not just me you're dealing with. It's the 'bigger players' you mention that want you on board. So why don't you cut the one-man-army act and look at the big picture, huh?"

  The big picture. If this painting that is my life gets any bigger it's gonna need the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel as a canvas. I gave the not-so-veiled threat appropriate consideration and frowned. "Offer declined. I don't wanna join the union."

  Simon's jaw tightened. "It's not that simple."

  "Why not? I saw the disdain in your eyes when you said 'street level.' I'm beneath you, so leave me alone and let me handle my business."

  "You can't go around blasting prominent politicians without rubbing investors the wrong way."

  City Commissioner Rudi Alvarez. I'd struck a nerve. "I didn't touch Rudi. It was a poltergeist that ripped up his front yard."

  "Which is why this is only a warning," shot back Simon, coming full circle. "You want to smoke ghosts and vampires? Be my guest. But connected animists and politicians are off limits."

  And there it was. Cisco Suarez had gotten too big for his britches, apparently. I nodded my head toward the street. "Is that what Redbeard is? Connected?"

  Simon turned his head but saw the empty driveway. Something had him flustered. "That's what this is about?" he asked. He straightened his jacket and reclaimed a cool exterior. "And here I thought you were playing politics. That other man's a nobody. A political booster. He doesn't live here. He's only on Grand Cayman because Commissioner Alvarez and his chief of staff are priming candidates for a big fund-raiser in Miami. There's nothing amiss here."

  "You and I must have different definitions of amiss. I know about the commissioner's hidden money."

  "Well, you'll just need to forget about it."

  I jutted my chin out. "Or what?"

  Simon almost looked bored now. "Haven't you been listening? Or the Society will get involved. There's a lot more people to deal with than me. Believe me. That's why we call it the Society."

  Confident. Aloof. Professional. I had the feeling Simon was dangerous.

  "Something you should know about me," I said, stretching my fingers and then balling them into a fist. "I took orders for ten years. I'm done with that. So when people tell me what to do, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

  He sighed. "Some sort of truce, then? No one will go after the other, as long as each behaves?"

  I didn't get it. If his wizard cartel was so big and powerful, why was he dealing with a small-time shadow charmer like myself? Could be that the wraith had them scared, had them unsure of what exactly the Horn of Subjugation could do. Hell, I was unsure of what it could do.

  "What about Kita Mariko?" I asked. "She protected too?"

  Simon nodded slyly. So the mysterious Covey I was hell-bent on taking down had made more friends than just politicians and businessmen. The Covey was connected to the Society too. The one percent looking out for each other. Sure sounded like a cartel to me.

  I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. "I get it. The paper mage cried foul. Did she happen to mention that she wa
s intimately involved with my death and zombie servitude? Or is ten years outside the Society's statute of limitations?"

  The enforcer tilted his head as if the offense was minor. "Truthfully? It was below our radar."

  "That's right," I scoffed. "I forgot. Street level." If Simon wasn't trying to piss me off, he was doing a piss-poor job. "Tell me this," I said, stepping into his personal space now. "You and me. Right here, right now. This is the street, isn't it?"

  There was a glimmer in his eye. For all his external etiquette, the man wanted to smack me down hard. I bet he looked forward to it.

  Simon Feigelstock cleared his throat. "Fortunately, I don't need to get in your way. Not now. There's nowhere for you to go. Business concluded a day early. Connor and Kita are already at the airport by now."

  A slight panic fluttered in my chest but I forced it down. The wizard cartel may have known about me, Simon may have gotten in my way and let the USB drive slip away, but I wasn't gonna give him the satisfaction of seeing my disappointment. Instead, I focused on the man's unintentional slip of the tongue.

  "Connor?"

  The enforcer worked his jaw, realizing his mistake, but said nothing.

  "They headed back to Miami? To the fund-raiser you mentioned?"

  Simon regained his composure and smiled. "You don't get it, Cisco. Any moment now, they'll be boarding a private jet headed to a private island. I'm done here. And so are you. The relevant parties have been warned and are beyond your reach."

  The man in the pinstripe suit brushed past me to head back to the patio. My hand swiped the shadows, broke open my sawed-off shotgun to confirm it was loaded, and then snapped it closed and trained it at the back of his head. When Simon heard the click, he froze.

  The Society enforcer turned to me slowly and adjusted his tie. "Put that thing away before someone gets hurt."

  "That's the idea."

  Impatience again. "Consider what it is you really want, Cisco. Then consider how utterly disconnected I am from it. You may not like me, but we're not enemies. Not yet, anyway."