Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Wash looked away just as the orc scanned the room for listeners. “Then we off them both and take the loss,” the orc said in a low voice. “I’m not crossing Osiris, are you?”

  The German shook his head before placing his hand on his neck as he walked away to make the call.

  “What’s your name?” Wash asked the orc.

  The orc shrugged as if he was deciding it didn’t matter. “Duval.”

  “Nice to meet you, uh, again I guess.”

  Duval chuckled. “I have the feeling it’s not, but hell, whatever.” He tipped his head. “Likewise.”

  “Listen, I know you guys think you know what you’re doing—”

  Duval shook his head. “Please don’t try to appeal to my greater good. I’m a merc, I’m in it for the money and this job pays a lot.”

  That was actually the response Wash had expected and hoped for.

  “Sure, I get it. But listen… I’ve been on the other side of the conversation, and Daphne isn’t getting a dime from her parents. They think they—and therefore she—are so far above humans that none of us could possibly be a threat… and they’re ruthless. According to Caitlin—”

  Duval raised his bushy eyebrows. “The hot one?”

  Wash bristled involuntarily. The hot one. Like she was nothing more than that. He suppressed the feeling before it could reach his face.

  “Yeah, the model. She’s the one that cleans up after Princess, there. She says her parents would rather send an army to Puerto Rico than lose face by paying a ransom. They rule Atlantis. I have absolutely no doubt they can do it.”

  Duval considered, and then shrugged. “Okay, assuming you have any idea what you’re talking about, that’s not a bad point. I think we’ll see where this goes. We’ve been doing this a long time, pal. One of the first things you learn is to always have an exit.” The orc leaned forward a little. “Where’s your exit?”

  Wash gritted his teeth. “What’s it look like?”

  The door slid open, grating on rusted tracks. Daphne and her boyfriend sauntered in, laughing about something. The man’s eyes sparkled as he spoke to her. Wash watched him closely for a moment, and suddenly realized how hard it was to look away. He managed to tear his eyes away. There was something about the guy…

  Like her, he uses magic to enhance himself. Cheap, petty illusions.

  Is he controlling her mind, her actions? Wash asked, casting the dice on whether or not the spirit would respond.

  In a way. You mortals are easily led by your desires. Elves are no different, only slightly longer-lived.

  Slightly? That said more about the spirit than it did about elves.

  How old are you? Wash asked.

  Nothing. Typical.

  Fine, whatever. He wasn’t sure what to make of the spirit’s response, but if Daphne was being controlled in somehow, that might help the situation. Maybe taking him out would clear her mind, and wake her up to what an incredibly stupid idea this whole thing was.

  He didn’t know if that would help him, but it might help Caitlin.

  So, he had a plan now. Knock out pretty boy, and hope that would do the trick. Now he just had to figure out how to do it.

  While surrounded by armed men.

  And a mage.

  In a hostel fortress.

  Wash snorted. Yeah, I’m really home free now.

  Thirteen

  “Do you see him?” Agathon asked.

  Caitlin shook her head. Despite feeding Bob an inordinate amount of strawberries—and getting a generous amount of red stains on her clothing—he hadn’t yet located Wash.

  It was hard for the hotel spirit to move around, but Caitlin had hoped that since he was slightly familiar with Wash, and the spirit inside him, Bob might be able to find him.

  As a fallback, she stood on her balcony searching the sky line with her astral sight, in the hopes of seeing some sign of the spirit contained within him.

  A headache was forming in the back of her neck from using her other vision for so long. With it, though, she could see the ebb and flow of magic.

  Right now almost all of it flowed toward Ocean Park, toward Osiris. From what she’d seen before, if the spirit within Wash manifested, the magic around him would be like an avalanche falling toward him.

  “Nothing yet,” she said behind her. The clink of glasses caught her attention, and she pulled away from her astral vision, deciding to give herself a break. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up behind her eyes.

  “Here,” Agathon handed a glass out to her. She took it on reflex, but couldn’t hide the disdainful glance she gave the champagne.

  “What? You had a fifty-year-old bottle warming on the floor. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

  She held the cool glass in her hand, eyes darting back out to scan the skyline with her normal sight.

  Where was Wash? A million terrible fates rushed through her mind. Maybe Bob couldn’t find him because he was already dead.

  That thought clutched at her insides. They could have killed him in a thousand different ways by now and nothing she did could change that.

  She flung the glass against the stucco wall rejoicing in the sound as it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces.

  Agathon stepped back, eyes wide as she grabbed his glass and sent it to join the other.

  “Better?”

  Caitlin sighed, resting her head in her hands. “Maybe a little.”

  She leaned back over the railing, eyes closed, fingers pressed up against her temples. Other than Bob, she couldn’t call any spirits. They were all huddled away, hiding as deep in the mana weave as possible.

  When she opened her eyes the city still looked the same. Colorful lights, moving cars. The five million inhabitants of Puerto Rico continued on their night as if nothing had happened.

  As if Wash wasn’t missing. As if there weren’t some possibility he was dead.

  This could happen to anyone else, and she wouldn’t feel this kind of…

  Poseidon. What did that mean? Her heart pounded in her chest, refusing to listen to the answer that came immediately into her head.

  You’re falling in love with him.

  Honest-to-goodness love.

  * * *

  And all that will fail, and is mortal.

  * * *

  The line from that damnable song came back to her like cold water poured over her head.

  “We have to find him,” she said out loud for the hundredth time, gripping the railing.

  “We will, Wash is a tough sort,” Agathon said, to her surprise. Then he snorted in amusement. “And ballsy. The way he started talking to that dragon…” He chuckled. “He’ll be fine, Cait.”

  After a moment, he continued, “You really do like him, don’t you?”

  She turned, expecting to see mockery in his eyes, but pulled up short. There was no mockery there. Only honesty.

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “I can’t explain it. It’s not…” She sighed. “It’s not just attraction, it’s not just the fact that he’s honest to me when so few people are. It’s more than that. It’s—”

  “It’s what?”

  “When he was drowning, and I pulled him out of the water… something happened. Like something clicking into place. It felt right. And I feel connected to him in a way I… in a way I never have with anyone else. Not ever.” She looked to him, the man she would eventually marry. “I’m sorry.”

  He cast her a little smile. “It’s okay, Cait. Believe it or not… I’m just not wired for love like you are. Or maybe just not wired for you. And I know—I knew since you were sixteen—that I’d never… own you. Not in any meaningful sense.

  “You’re gorgeous, smart… half the men I know would trade places with me in an instant, but, I guess…” He leaned over the railing, lacing his fingers together. “I guess I don’t want to be told what I have to do with my life any more than you.”

  She sighed. “Is Atlantis going to su
rvive this new world? How can it, if even you and I don’t want to be a part of that machine?”

  He shrugged. “You and I can be replaced, ultimately, regardless of the havoc that would cause. Your sister, though… she’s the only one who can take the throne.”

  “Poseidon. Even the thought of her ruling…”

  A sharp wind roared by her, gathering up the loose strands of her hair and flinging them frantically about.

  Finally.

  She grasped her astéri, opening the conduit to the elven power and letting the spirit taste it. The arcane energy flowed through her feeding the hungry wind. The roar turned to a gale as the spirits fed on her power.

  She comes. She comes.

  “Who comes?”

  Hetepheres.

  “Where?”

  The wind rushed to the north and west, past her, knocking over tables in her room and sending debris flying. Then it was gone as if it never happened.

  Caitlin closed the link to her power, lest she draw Osiris’ attention.

  The fear in the spirits’ voices. She understood now. The spirits were afraid. Afraid of Osiris.

  “Hetepheres is coming,” she told Agathon. “And I know where we can find Wash.”

  The windows near the ceiling were dark. The flashing, bright light that had filled them now and again had stopped a while ago.

  It had to be late, but Wash found himself completely awake and alert. His Navy service had taught him to wake up at a moment’s notice, pushing away the fuzz of sleep within seconds. This felt different, though.

  Is this your doing? he asked the spirit inside him.

  Your body is fragile. Both a benefit and a hindrance.

  Then why me? How can I possibly be of any use to you?

  Silence.

  Wash shrugged, and let it go. He needed focus to do what he was about to do. He needed calm, and courage.

  Closing his eyes, he imagined Caitlin’s face.

  What was it about her? It wasn’t her green eyes and gorgeous smile. It wasn’t her black hair and smooth, bronze skin.

  It wasn’t her easy manner and the way she made him feel… important.

  There was life in her. More than he had seen in anyone he had ever met. Wild, abundant life.

  She was vivid, full of color and enthusiasm, and a kind of beauty that had nothing to do with her physical self.

  It was magnetic and mesmerizing. He could not in a million years imagine being a person that beautiful. Not as a woman, but like a sunset, like an endless ocean, like a storm.

  Like a force of nature.

  She made him feel, somehow, like more than he was… just by being near her.

  Wash took a deep breath, gathering determination from those thoughts.

  Hours had passed since they arrived at the fortress, and his captors were steadily winding down.

  The one with the German accent leaned against the wall, idly toying with something metal in his hands. The other two who hadn’t spoken a word were busy playing cards in the corner. The only one fully attentive and alert was Duval.

  Wash knew the look. The two policeman watching Caitlin’s hotel had it. Duval was an operator. And while his companions were dangerous, Duval was lethal.

  On a wild, tenuous hope, he spoke to the spirit inside him. I hope you’re willing to help me escape. Caitlin is out there somewhere looking for us. If she finds us here… I worry what these men will do to her.

  He shook his head. He was sure the spirit heard him, but he didn’t know if it would care.

  The wooden sliding door ground open and Daphne came in, her lips in a pout as she stomped over to the chair and table the other two men were playing cards on.

  “Move,” she commanded them. They scurried out of her way with a nod from Duval.

  “I want to go back to the house, Pierre,” she said to someone beyond the doorway. “I don’t like it here.”

  Pierre walked through the door in his ostentatious lavender suit and gold jewelry.

  Pretty boys like him always seemed a little full of themselves, but Pierre took it to a whole new level. He stopped beside Daphne, and picked up her hand, kissing it slowly. Wash had to look away.

  “Only a few more hours, princess. You know your parents will shell out the cash. You’re too important not to. Then we can go wherever we want, do whatever we want.” The suggestion in his words made Wash roll his eyes.

  So, they still thought her parents were going to pay the ransom.

  There was no ransom coming. Even Agathon had agreed that calling her parents was tantamount to suicide for the kidnappers.

  Was he lying, or delusional? Or had he found a way to contact her parents without Caitlin?

  “Daddy agreed?”

  “Of course! He has the payment being wired to my account. Our account. Then it’s off to Paris, or—”

  “Niagara Falls,” Daphne purred. “Just like in that old movie, remember?”

  Wash stifled a laugh. All the money in the world and she wanted to go to a tourist trap.

  The guy was slick, no doubt. And the more Wash listened to him talk, the more he doubted the man was stupid.

  He was playing Daphne. Wash was almost certain. But what was his end game? Just the money? That seemed unbelievable. His claim about the wire transfer couldn’t possibly be true. Not if Caitlin knew what she was talking about, and he didn’t doubt her.

  “Anything for you, princess,” Pierre said. “Your wish is my command.”

  Daphne giggled as he kissed his way up her arm, then flung her arms around his neck.

  Wash could not believe this was Caitlin’s sister. The only thing the two had in common was the silver necklaces that hung from their necks.

  He struggled to recall what Caitlin had called it… an azeri?

  Astéri.

  It was the source of their power. He hadn’t seen Agathon's, but he imagined the deadly elven warrior had one as well. Did they have to be necklaces?

  It didn’t matter, not really. Whatever control the man had over Daphne, she didn’t seem able to repel it. Or maybe she was unwilling.

  Pierre lifted Daphne up onto the table, and she wrapped her legs around him as he kissed her. Their indiscretion drew the mercs’ attention, and it was suddenly time.

  As he would before a dive, Wash breathed in and out rapidly and as subtly as he could to oxygenate his blood.

  The room itself was oblong. The large sliding door, the one they came through and had left conveniently half closed, were twenty feet away from him.

  The German was behind him, the two card players were totally engrossed in the young lovers. Duval had one hand on the door to slide it shut, for a few moments not paying full attention.

  Now.

  Wash was halfway there before anyone noticed. A sharp cry of alarm rang out but it was too late. Duval heaved against the door. The big orc’s muscles rippled as he started to shove the door close. Wash leaped the last few feet, turning himself sideways. The door slammed behind him with enough force to fragment the rock wall and fracture the door.

  He was out, but not free. He ran like he never had in his entire life, gravel spraying in every direction, and he heard the fractured door groaning open behind him.

  By moonlight, he was sprinting through almost total darkness. Grassland spread out to the east, and he heard the ocean crashing against the cliffs to the south.

  “Water or grass?” he asked himself. The answer was obvious. Water.

  The south side was cliffs down to a beach, but the north had the old harbor in it. He could likely leap from the top all the way down. He ran, legs pumping lungs heaving to the north.

  Engines roared up the dirt road as he passed it. They were a few hundred feet away and driving like crazy, leaving a cloud of dirt behind them. He couldn’t see them well, but they looked like boxy security vehicles, not anything Cait would drive.

  The ocean air called to him, calming his nerves as he put his head down and ran as hard as he could. A wind picked
up from the east, cold and damp with the promise of rain.

  Yes! The voice in side him welled up. The feeling of a vast emptiness yawning beneath him swelled up.

  It is coming.

  “Stop,” a woman’s voice rang out. Her tone was commanding but Wash didn’t care. He only had a hundred feet to go. The ocean called to him over the horizon of the hill.

  Then he was flying backward, bright flashes and a cacophony of booms rolled over him as he hit the dirt with a grunt, expelling all the air from his lungs. Mud and grass clung to him as he rolled over to see what had happened.

  A thin, pale skinned woman wrapped in bandages like a mummy, with flowing black hair and glowing golden eyes, pointed one long finger at him.

  Her wrist and neck were decorated with gold jewelry and the parts of her skin not covered in wrappings were painted with black lines that he didn’t recognize.

  “Thomas Washington,” she said. “You were supposed to die in the Milwaukee Deep. Instead, you brought back with you an abomination to the one true God, Osiris.”

  Wash struggled to stand, his muscles wobbled as he pushed himself up.

  Am I still going to live?

  The voice in his head didn’t answer. He took that as a bad sign.

  “Listen, whoever you are…” He glanced around. She had ten men with her, all in state-of-the art armor and weapons. A ways beyond them were the four mercs and the happy couple. At least the ocean was to his back.

  “I am Hetepheres, High Priestess of the One True God, Osiris, and I am your death.” She walked towards him, finger extended.

  Do not let her touch you, the spirit spoke in his mind. I can sustain your life, but you must not let her touch you.

  What happens if she touches me? Wash asked the spirit.

  Everything in this life has rules, Thomas Washington, even spirits as old as I. If she touches your mortal form, we will both perish.

  “Fine.”

  Wash pulled his feet under him. Whatever they shot near him played havoc on his muscles, and they wobbled as he braced himself. Hetepheres wasn’t walking fast, but she was deliberate in her pace.

  “I’ll pass,” he said as he turned. The air popped and the ground exploded in front of him. The shockwave rolled over him… and around him. Dirt, grass, debris all passed by him.