Eden's Pawn: Shadow Games Book 1

by C. B. Miller

  “We had business with them. They were looking for a permanent change of scenery. Not everyone appreciates the Accords and its little utopia Segane has built in Chicago.” MacKenzie sneered and lifted her fingers in air quotes.

  I personally didn’t see what was wrong with the Accords. Mages, vampires, Fae, and shifters were all able to live in relative peace. It turns out that shifters and vampires can get along just fine in the same area. Old ways died hard, and there were those that enjoyed their age-old blood feuds, based more on their differences than any real grievance. It seems that Jamaal subscribes to the old ways.

  “That’s too bad, but also their choice.” I shrugged.

  MacKenzie put her hands on her hips and stared at me for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t believe you.”

  “Hang on a second. How did you know who I was, but you didn’t recognize me?”

  “A mortal whose mind can’t be controlled? You’re very well-known in the right circles. Descriptions of you, on the other hand, are unreliable to say the least. Eden’s talents with the flesh makes it impossible to rely on, and I’m sure the rumors about your many faces are her doing.”

  I hadn’t realized how my gift might give Eden a political edge in vampire society when I signed up to work with her.

  “Now, about your bullshit story….” She clenched her right hand into a fist and wrapped her left around it.

  “Well fuck.”

  “Well, fuck is right. Lucky for you, this doesn’t have to be ugly.”

  “Because I whooped your boys’ assess and you’re intimidated by my manliness?”

  She giggled.

  “I’ll give you one more chance to explain what happened to Nigel and the rest. Without your gooey zombie story this time. I saw the five of them in the window when you entered, and there were no signs of these things when we went inside.”

  “Wallflower.”

  “Wallflower?”

  “Yeah, it’s my safe word.”

  She began to laugh, and I shot forward. I lunged, leading with a left jab, which had no chance of hitting her. MacKenzie’s face went blank, and she didn’t move.

  Shit.

  I committed by following up with a series of rapid strikes from my right, and she dispassionately blocked each strike. Her body folded in half as my foot slammed into her hip. I followed up with an upper cut to her face, and I heard the snack and crack of multiple bones breaking in my left hand before I felt it. Power flowed through me, banishing the pain.

  Nearly all of my breath exploded from my lungs as she shot in and speared me in the gut with her shoulder. The pavement cracked underneath us as she hammered me to the ground. In one smooth movement, she straddled my belly, and I was barely able to get my arms up in time as she rained blows down. Each one of her fists felt like a jackhammer as she sent blow after blow down on me. My forearms took the brunt of the damage.

  She shifted her weight higher on my chest, sliding a little bit with each strike.

  As she tried to get her knees underneath my armpit and force my arms above my shoulders, I pushed with both hands at her left hip and kicked out my legs. The sudden shift pushed me onto my left side, and my backpack interfered with my position as she shifted her weight. MacKenzie gripped my free arm, swinging her leg behind my back and over my face as she spun around it like a spider monkey. With my arm between her legs, she stretched as she fell onto her back. In the microseconds before she was able to lay down and complete her arm bar, I threw every ounce of my strength into using her momentum to slam her against the pavement. She gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of her lungs and the sidewalk cracked below her. MacKenzie’s grip slipped on my arm, and I pulled away, scrambling to my feet.

  I took a step forward toward the gate before MacKenzie gripped my backpack and jerked me backward. I spun, grabbed MacKenzie and pulled her into a tight embrace, and leaped across the threshold of The Grey.

  As we spun through the entrance, a presence rolled through my entire being, reaching out from the manor. It caressed my very essence, examining what makes me, me. I felt anger radiate out from the presence and then a cool, dispassionate disregard. An acrid smell filled the air, and everything went still even as MacKenzie and I spiraled through the air. I heard the thunder first as twin bolts of arcane energy struck us. Skin peeled and burned away on my back and her sides. Wreathed in fire, the shockwave ripped MacKenzie from my grasp, slamming her into the ground, and sent me spinning into the fence. The back of my head bashed against the wrought iron bars, and everything faded to black as the darkness embraced me.

  Chapter Nine

  A fan droned on softly, and I braced for the beep of the heartbeat monitor. Seconds passed by, and I wondered if it was a powerful cocktail of drugs or the lasting effects of my power that was keeping the pain at bay. I expected to be in pain. A lot of pain.

  I opened one eye, expecting a hospital room, a ton of monitors, and IVs pumping drugs into my system. Instead, I was lying down on a comfortably soft couch, and I was in someone’s luxurious study. Bookshelves were embedded in the walls from floor to ceiling and filled with books. Volumes of all shapes and sizes were carelessly shelved wherever they fit with no rhyme or reason. As if whoever was reading them decided to put them back wherever they grabbed the next item of interest from. I laid on the couch for a moment taking everything in, and the floor next to me was littered with a number of books, journals, maps, and other paper artifacts precariously stacked on top of one another around me.

  I sat upright, knocking a few items over in the process. Piled on two overstuffed reading chairs were more tomes, and across the room near the far wall was a large dark wood desk. A single book rested on the desk, the book Annie gave me back at the shop.

  The feeling that I was being watched returned, and I turned to see Markus The Grey standing in a far corner. His eyes were glued to the book Annie gave me. The Grey looked to be in his mid-fifties, with salt and pepper sprinkle throughout his black curly hair. I had still to get a straight answer about how long mages live to be. And I had to wonder if that is his real age or not. He stood a little over six foot three inches, and he carried a little bit of extra weight in his center. His dated blue jeans and anime tee-shirt did nothing to help his sagging physique.

  “Well, boy. What kind of fuckery did you think you were delivering to my doorstep today?” Markus was at least thirty feet across the room from me, and his anger was palpable.

  “Uh, well. Sorry about the added ‘guest.’ MacKenzie was kind of a tag along.” I made quotes in the air and froze. The Grey turned to look at me, and the air temperature in the room rose by several degrees. I pointed at the book, and he nodded.

  “I don’t know. Stanley gave it to me, and I can’t read it.” I fumbled to find the right words. I hadn’t considered that I might be carrying something that Markus might find dangerous. Then again, there wasn’t a lot of time to think about it with all my unexpected friends showing up, nor was I really in a position to say no when Annie thrust it into my hands.

  “You are lucky I recognized you and value my relationship with Eden. It is not wise to bring trouble to a mage’s doorstep. I had half a mind to let that woman carry you out. We had an interesting conversation about you, but her story did not match what I knew about you and Eden, so I told her to scoot.” His voice was remarkably calm, like he was discussing a spot of bad weather but each word pushed against me like thunder.

  “Oh, and um, what pray tell happened to my unwanted companion MacKenzie?”

  “MacKenzie has been dealt with. I know of her master as well, so I allowed her to leave on good terms as well. Today that is.” His voice was hard, and a blast of heat caused the air to shimmer around me. A moment later, a chill ran through me as the heat vanished.

  “You know who this Jamaal joker is?”

  “He’s from New Orleans, and he just goes by Jamaal. Like Madonna, or Sting. He doesn’t run the Big Easy, from what I understand, but he’s an Elder. From what I know,
he’s lived in the city or at least in the area since it was founded.”

  “So … he might be older than Eden.”

  Markus nodded and looked back at the book. The air grew still as the silence stretched out between us, but I decided keeping my mouth shut and to wait for what he had to say first was the best course of action.

  “Next time you feel like bringing your trouble to my doorstep, don’t. That is a good rule of thumb you should remember. I do not want to be drawn deeper into vampire problems than my current associations already have. The Accords are a pact based on mutual respect.” He stared at me across the room . “Do you understand? I am under no obligation to rescue you. Keep your issues away from my domain.” He growled.

  “You need to take that thing and get it away from here. I want nothing to do with it. I’m not sure why Stanley gave you that abomination or why he sent you to me, but I will have none of it.” He scolded, and his face turned into a sour mask of disapproval like I crapped on the carpet or something.

  “Stanley didn’t send me here. I was looking for some information about some mages.”

  “You would dare ask me for a favor after bringing that thing into my house and after I healed you as well?” He thundered. The lights turned red and dimmed in response.

  I stood and held my hands up in front of me . “Hey, let’s just chill for a moment. I am sorry. I thought she’d back off knowing who I am and that I was here to see you. I was wrong.” I bowed, “and you didn’t have to heal me up. I owe you a debt, and I’ll repay that. But, I was coming here on official business; it wasn’t just a pleasure walk.”

  The lights brightened, illuminating the entire room once more in warm white light.

  I thought vampires were dramatic.

  “What is it that you came here for then?”

  “Where’s my phone?”

  Markus the Grey reached into his pocket and pulled out my cellphone. He walked over to the couch, and it floated across the room behind him into my hand. Over the next hour, I showed him the videos of the assault on Robert and the rest of his crew. The Grey watched in silence, motioning to replay certain videos.

  He pointed at the screen, “Pause. Right there. Can you zoom in?”

  The mages were nearly out of the frame on the last video as they made their getaway, and he focused on something on one of the women. The back of her leg had some sort of chain hanging from it, and I zoomed in. The pixelated picture revealed a thick silver anklet with three charms hanging from it.

  “Can you make that out?”

  Frowning, he shook his head, and the hope rising in my chest vanished. “No, but I don’t need to either. I know who you are looking for.”

  My phone almost slipped from my hand as I looked back at him. “Who?”

  “You are looking for Bertha. That is the mark of her circle, although I don’t recognize either of these women. This is strange and worrisome, however. They are wizards, not mages. This type of attack is well beyond a wizard’s skills. Even a full circle.”

  I nodded, pretending to understand what he meant about a full circle. I knew there was a difference between wizards and mages. Wizards spent years to research and learn some of the simplest magics mages master in their first year. Mages were beings that molded reality to fit their wishes simply by willing it, and their magic made it so. Wizards had to coax magic into changing things.

  Wizards were rare, but there was only one Bertha that was a wizard in Chicago, and she was on the Northside.

  “I thought only vampires like Eden could do anything like that ... Thanks, um ...”

  “Magister Grey will suffice from you.” I thought we were having a moment, but his flat voice definitely said otherwise.

  “Thank you, Magister Grey. My apologies for bringing our troubles to your doorstep.” I got up from the couch and bowed. I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was for when Gandalf is angry with you and kicks you out of his house?

  I walked over towards the desk and reached out to pick up the book. My hand hovered over the binding, “I am assuming that my backpack is toast?”

  “No, your backpack survived.” His gaze fell on my outstretched hand just above the book . “This book is dangerous, right?”

  Markus looked from the book to me and back again before he nodded.

  “I’m not going to go mad touching it, am I? Or run afoul of some weird curse?” I pulled my hand slightly back from the book and looked at him.

  “The danger lies within its pages. It would be best if you returned it at your first opportunity.” A look of disgust covered his face in a wave as a thought crossed his mind. “I’m shocked Stanley gave you something so foul.”

  “So, um... no hints as to what it does?”

  “No. You would only die quickly, and that would not be the end of things. I am doing you a favor by not telling you. Besides, it would be like discussing biochemistry with a six-year old.”

  Old man can throw shade

  A few calming deep breaths as I realized those are future Kaedin problems. And it was going to suck to be future Kaedin. Until then, I had questions. “f this thing is so bad, why don’t you take the book?? Shouldn’t you have some vault or secret location for things like this?”

  “I do, but it would be far more dangerous in my hands than yours, and I’m not sure if I could resist its call for long. Return it to Stanley, and forget you ever saw it.”

  Chapter Ten

  My stomach twisted and turned several times as I frantically flipped through several programs on my phone. I had a general idea of Stanley’s address, so when it didn’t pop up in my search when I was ordering a ride-share, I checked several mapping programs. Then I did several searches on different search engines. Nothing. It was like his shop never existed.

  Daylight was burning away, and the chill running down my spine said I didn’t want to stick around The Grey’s haven after nightfall. I’m sure I burned away all the goodwill and then some I had earned in our previous dealings. I picked the address of the closest shop and waited impatiently for my driver to arrive. The five minute wait felt like an eternity as I scanned the nearby buildings and passers-by for threats.

  I pushed aside and reconsidered the idea to grab my own car at least a dozen times when my ride showed up, and after an awkward double-check that my driver was both who they said they were and didn’t give me a supernatural vibe, we sped down the Chicago streets. It was less than a mile back to Stanley’s storefront, but I didn’t want a repeat encounter with MacKenzie or her goons.

  My throat tightened, and the pit in my stomach doubled as we pulled to a stop. Next to Jimmy’s Chicken Shed, where Stanley’s antique emporium should have been, was just a blank wall. I numbly thanked the driver, got out, and walked over to the concrete wall that hadn’t been there twelve hours before.

  “What the fuck, Stanley? What in the literal hell…” I whispered to myself.

  Shoppers nearby cast quick looks my way as I examined the stone wall thoroughly, and the feeling that I was making a scene grew as I became visibly frustrated by the missing entrance.

  My shoulders sagged, and I let out a deep breath before turning to lean against the wall. From across the street, a man strode directly towards me, a beaming smile on his face that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. I made a point to keep my gaze relaxed as I scanned the area while he approached, looking to see if there were others coming my way. By the time he was ten feet away, I was satisfied that no one else was watching him or me, at least not purposefully, and I took an in-depth look.

  He had that ex-military vibe, the type that says, ‘I saw combat, but it’s nothing I could tell you even if I wanted to.’ Tall, maybe six-foot two, and the muscle mass that goes with someone who worked out every day like it was his job and his life depended on it. Fair skin, close-cropped brown hair, amber eyes, and a jagged scar that ran the length of his face on the left side. He was a bad boy salesman all in one, and he knew it.

  He stepped up onto the sidew
alk across from me, standing rigidly straight, and cleared his throat.

  “Can I help you?”

  I didn’t recognize this guy, but that meant very little when you work for someone that can change everything about your physical appearance.

  He cocked his head for a moment, almost like he was surprised by my comment, and had to consider what to say next . “I don’t think you can help me, at least not directly. I, on the other hand, can help you. Even if it’s against my better judgment.”

  “Go on.”

  “What I am about to say, to ask of you, is going to be hard to swallow.”

  Get on with it, man.

  Noticing my waning interest in this conversation, his whole body relaxed as he placed his hands behind his back. “I am an envoy from a power that is not recognized by your Accords. Before I deliver our message and offer, I promise that I withdraw without violence as long as you do the same. Do I have your word?”

  I looked him up and down, making sure to take the time. He didn’t have the same buzz as a were-creature; there was always a gentle energy that was almost frantic that surrounded them. He seemed to lack the arrogance of a mage, or even that of a wizard, although he wasn’t afraid of me. Everything about him screamed that he was something supernatural, but this wasn’t how wights interacted with each other either—my recent encounter with MacKenzie aside. Supposedly there were Fae running around Chicago, but in the last six months, I had yet to meet or even see a single one.

  Besides, they were all, in one way or another, recognized by the Accords, and he said he represented a power.

  He stared at me, still showing me his pearly white teeth like he cracked the funniest joke or that he was trying to sell me a new car. I was tempted for a moment to drag the silence out even longer, but then I remembered The Grey’s words and my deadline to find out what happened to Nigel’s pack.

  “OK, I’ll give you my word that our meeting – you and I – will go peacefully.”