by Sarah Noffke
She rarely thought of herself as a scientific magician, but rather as a magical scientist. It was semantics to some, but to Alicia, it meant something. Like Liv, she existed only to tinker. To fix. To create. And magic was the part of it that enhanced her world. Even without magic, Alicia would still build, invent, and innovate. Without magic, she knew who she was. There weren’t many who could say that, because magic was everything to them. They were nothing without it.
That wasn’t true for Liv Beaufont, though. Take away her powers, and she was still a fierce Warrior whom most would regret pissing off.
Alicia flipped up her head as Plotting Panda careened into the front wall. Her mouth popped open, and her heart leapt. She wanted to run to her robot, but in the next second, Laidback Lion nearly hit her in the face as he was tossed through the air.
She heard the overworking of gears as her precious robots tried to get up, but they’d need repairs before they could fight again, and Alicia knew that. This was fine, though, because what she’d do next would take them out completely.
The gremlin stood in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and his teeth bared. He growled at Alicia, leaning forward like he was about to charge.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Matched his stance. Flipped a switch.
Chapter Thirty
The devices all over Alicia’s shop all buzzed once as if coming to life, and then the noise dissipated like a fly slowly dying. One by one, the lights on the various devices flickered and died.
She’d done it!
Liv would have a chance against Shitkphace, especially if she’d worn down his magical reserves.
Alicia didn’t have a chance to rejoice or celebrate because the gremlin charged her, his mouth wide open and a high-pitched war-like scream echoing from his mouth.
Liv wasn’t sure how much she could take. She’d been in some pretty gnarly fights, but in all of them, she’d had the ability to defend herself. Shitkphace wasn’t what anyone would call an honorable man. Or person. He fought unfairly, hitting a person when they were incapacitated and repeatedly calling them “little girl” like it was an insult. He was not only responsible for creating holes in the fabric of time, but he had also bruised Liv’s face, which would make her look ridiculous at Rudolf’s wedding.
She was busy entertaining herself with self-pitying thoughts, which thankfully distracted her from the pain as the magician landed blow after blow on her face. Liv was distracted when she caught something over Shitkphace’s shoulder. It was a blur of orangey-brown. The movement of a large cat.
She was relieved that she was about to be rescued, then she stumbled to the side. Her feet worked under her. Her hands moved. She was free.
The figure about to pounce from several yards away froze at Shitkphace’s back. The evil magician paused too, tilting his head to the side, probably wondering why his human punching bag was moving on her own.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the remote. Liv allowed this, working her jaw back and forth, trying to feel normal again although her face and body were throbbing from the beating.
Shitkphace pointed the remote at her. It did nothing.
Liv dragged the back of her sleeve over her face, mopping up the blood streaming from her face. “You would have been better off if the House of Seven had sent Decar Sinclair to take care of you,” she said, narrowing her eyes as her hand flew to Bellator at her side. “He would have been nothing for you to deal with. However, Father Time sent me, Liv Beaufont, instead, and although I’m not ruthless like Decar, I don’t take a beating lying down.”
Momentarily disoriented by the sudden change of events, Shitkphace rapidly slammed his fingers on the buttons of the remote. When nothing happened and Liv withdrew her sword, he shot his palm into the air.
A small gust of wind, not even strong enough to dry her soaked hair, swept through the air.
Liv laughed. “Guess you shouldn’t have exhausted your reserves with that fancy flying.”
Shitkphace looked ready to piss himself. He stumbled backward, checking over his shoulder. He did a double-take on noticing the cheetah at his back. When he spun to face Liv, there was pure fear and pleading in his eyes.
She brought Bellator up, feeling the hunger of the sword. It wanted justice. It wanted revenge. It wanted to slice through this enemy, sending him to the bottom of the canal.
“You really should have thought before messing with Alicia and me,” Liv said as the figure cowered. “Yes, we’re only little girls, but we’re smart girls—a combination no one should ever underestimate.”
Like the coward he was, Shitkphace whipped around and ran.
Liv brought Bellator up in a flash, striking the magician in the back. She didn’t like to stab her enemies in the back, but when they ran rather than fight, they left her no options. That was what happened when you dueled with a shitface, she thought, putting Bellator away.
Alicia didn’t flinch as the gremlin with razor-sharp teeth charged at her. She’d never been taught how to fight, but she knew how to survive, and in many ways, that was the same thing.
Throwing her hand into the air, she directed a blast at the gremlin.
He ricocheted off the walls like a ping pong ball, bouncing around the shop in an attempt to distract her. Alicia kept her eyes on the rapidly moving gremlin, not allowing herself to blink as he soared by her face, screaming in her ears. This had been one of the many tactics the gremlins had used to capture Alicia, subduing her until their master arrived to find her tied up. That was when everything had gone wrong for her. She’d been defeated and her shop taken over. But not this time. No, Alicia wasn’t allowing power-hungry villains to mess up her world again, or the place she loved so dearly.
Reaching down, Alicia picked up a loose pipe Laidback Lion had left by the device, thinking it could be helpful for adding extra support. They hadn’t needed it, as evidenced by the fact that Alicia’s two beloved robots were incapacitated. This time, Laidback Lion leaving tools lying around had been advantageous, even though Plotting Panda always griped about it.
Alicia brought the pipe around the same way she’d seen Liv do in battle and swung it at the blur that passed through the air. The instrument connected like a bat hitting a ball and she followed all the way through, swinging the pipe in a fluid arc. The gremlin flew through the air and crashed through the display window at the front, soaring across the canal, where it smacked into a building. It slid down into the canal and floated away, hopefully realizing it had been defeated by a scientist who was done putting up with the wicked creature’s shit.
Chapter Thirty-One
Every kill came at a price. Yes, Liv had rid the world of an awful man who cared little for justice, life, or science. However, his blood was on her hands.
Literally.
She cleaned her soiled hands after wiping off Bellator, having kicked Shitkphace’s body into the canal, where hopefully he’d do some good, becoming food for the fish.
However, even though she’d done her job, it wasn’t easy to kill. It was an act that marked her soul each and every time. Bellator thirsted for the hunt, for the final swing that rid the world of an evil-doer. Liv hadn’t gotten to that point yet. She always questioned whether she could have done things differently. Taken Shitkphace into custody. Had his magic locked somehow. There were never any clear answers to these conundrums, though. She’d just have to work them over in her head night after night until she was at peace over the whole thing—not that there was any guarantee a day like that would happen.
“You couldn’t have done it any differently,” Plato said, having returned to his normal form.
Liv sheathed Bellator and nodded. “Yes, but I could have gotten punched in the face fewer times. I think that jackfruit broke my nose.”
She pointed at her face, trying to remember the incantation Hester had taught her for self-mending. Warmth spread over her nose as the spell took effect, suddenly making it easier to breathe again.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop that shitface from pummeling you,” Plato said, real remorse in his voice.
Liv shrugged. “You had a job to do. I did, as well. But you showed up.”
“And I backed off when I saw you’d been unpaused.”
“Thanks for that,” Liv stated. “I know you could have saved me, but…”
“You wanted to save yourself,” Plato said, finishing her words.
Liv nodded. “This one got a little personal. Not just because of Papa Creola and Alicia, but also for some other reason I’m not entirely sure of.”
“Maybe it’s because Shitface reminded you of another power-hungry magician, one you feel powerless to stop,” Plato offered.
Liv couldn’t believe how accurate the observation was. “Yeah, one I feel can deliver blow after blow to me, and I just have to take it.”
Plato and Liv stared at the gentle beating of the canal water. It was still rising but would return to normal levels by the time the sun rose.
Feeling her stomach rumble with hunger, Liv finally shrugged, returning to reality. “I don’t know, though. Maybe I’ve made Adler Sinclair into a villain in my mind. He might just be a grumpy old man who has done nothing wrong other than being a pain in my ass.”
“Maybe,” Plato replied.
Liv drew a deep breath. “How about we hit a gelato shop after checking on Alicia? Surely one will be open by then.”
“If not, I know how to break into one.”
Liv gave him a scolding expression. “I really hope Alicia is okay.”
“The signal worked,” Plato stated. “So I’m sure she’s fine.”
Glass was everywhere when Liv entered Alicia’s shop. She gave Plato a curious glance. “This doesn’t look like she’s fine.”
He gave her a noncommittal expression before disappearing as Alicia rounded the corner from the back of her shop.
Liv almost had the impulse to run to the girl and give her a hug. She stopped herself. “Alicia! Are you okay? The shop.”
She glanced around. “It will be fine. And Shitkphace?”
“You never have to worry about him coming after you again and taking your place, or his gremlins,” Liv stated.
Alicia held up a metal pipe in her hand and nodded, slapping it into the palm of her hand. “No, I’ll never fear gremlins again. They have no power over me.”
“Do you want my help cleaning up?” Liv asked, staring around at the wreckage.
“No, but is it safe to turn off the signal?”
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” Liv answered.
Alicia ran over to the device in the middle of the room that was broadcasting a low buzzing noise and a great deal of heat. She flipped a switch and it died.
Liv withdrew Bellator when something small and orange stirred at her feet. Alicia slid in front of her, putting an arm across her chest.
“It’s okay,” Alicia said in a soothing voice. “They are safe.”
“They?” Liv asked, and as if cued, something else stirred on the far side of the room. From the rubble, a panda head poked out, one of its eyes looking the wrong way.
Alicia scooped up what Liv realized was a robotic lion, then ran over and grabbed the panda.
“These are yours, I gather?” Liv asked as the scientist put the robots on a workbench. They tried to walk, but bumped into each other and fell down on their sides.
“Yes, and they are in need of repair, but they’ve survived, which is all that matters,” Alicia said a great deal of fondness in her voice.
Liv placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, realizing how much she’d miss her. “We all survived, thanks to your ingenuity.”
Alicia offered her a wide smile. “Thanks to your bravery, Warrior Beaufont. I can never thank you enough for what you did to save me.”
Liv shook her head. “I don’t need your thanks. Just keep doing what you’re doing. The magical world needs your technology, but keep it in compliance with House of Seven regulations. Otherwise, some annoying Warrior will show up here and shut you down.”
Alicia laughed. “You’re the only Warrior I want in my shop. Speaking of which, if you ever need any help with anything that’s in my field of expertise, I’m always at your disposal.”
Liv smiled. “Actually, my friend John is working on something that has us both stumped. When you’re not busy getting your life back together and pecking around this shop, maybe you can help him?”
Alicia shook her head. “Pecking…very funny. And yes, I’d be happy to offer my assistance. Any friend of yours, Liv, is a friend of mine.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
A sword with a ruby-encrusted handle lay next to a suit of armor that would fit a gnome. Other swords from the Dequiem collection hung in display cases around Subner’s shop. It was exciting to see how the Fantastical Armory had been transformed now that it had inventory.
Around the shop were actual customers. They browsed the display cases, many of them jingling gold, which kept Subner attentive to them.
When Liv entered, he merely glanced up and pointed to the door at the back. “He’s back there in his office.”
“Office. Right,” Liv stated.
She guessed he was referring to Papa Creola, who, although he was out of hiding, still seemed to be keeping a low profile. He had a lot of enemies, Liv gathered. And she remembered him telling her about how he used to be inundated with requests, which was one reason he had gone into hiding in the first place.
She breezed by the patrons, keeping her head low and covered. Although she’d fixed her nose, her face was still covered in purplish and greenish bruises from the unfair attack by Shitkphace. Once she had a chance, she planned on stopping by to see Hester. The healer had taught her some healing spells but had cautioned against casting too many on herself. Something like fixing a broken nose was okay, but too many spells could go too far. Hester said that it was cosmetic surgery and magicians usually couldn’t stop, taking away every imperfection until they overdid it. She’d stated that Liv should just come to her for such things. People were better at healing others, kind of like a stylist was better at doing other people’s hair.
Liv was greeted by total darkness when she opened the door to the back. She closed the door behind her and waited a few seconds, hoping her eyes would adjust. They didn’t, because it was pitch-black.
Lifting her hand, she created a fireball. A steep staircase descended into a narrow passageway ahead of her.
“Oh, how I love going into dark, unknown places,” Liv muttered to herself, testing the first step. It creaked under her weight. It was probably used to holding Papa Creola or Subner’s weight, which was easily half of hers. She just hoped they held as she descended.
“My boss couldn’t have an office in a commercial building with generic landscaping and a Starbucks across the street,” Liv continued to grumble to herself. “Oh no, he’s got to work at the bottom of a dark basement in a shop on a street no one knows about.”
On her next step, her foot broke through the board. Liv caught herself on the rickety railing but nearly dropped the fireball.
“Let’s not burn down the stairs, even if they are shit,” Liv said, trying to pull her leg free of where it was stuck.
When she was finally out of the hole, she took each step a little more carefully. Round and round she went, thinking she had to have gone down a dozen or more flights of stairs. The walls were cold stone, and a faint smell of something sweet grew stronger as she descended.
Liv sniffed, thinking the smell was reminiscent of something. Flowers? Gardenias, maybe? No, it was vanilla. The scent hit Liv with a wave of nostalgia. She suddenly got a flash of running through wildflowers as a child. Entering her home with her parents. Cuddling with her mother and reading books. It was unexpected and nearly bowled her over.
When her vision cleared, Liv strangely found herself at the bottom of the staircase, a faint light flickering in the distance. The floor was slippery under her shoes, making her
brace herself on the wall. She released the fireball in case she needed both hands and peered ahead.
“Papa Creola?” Her voice echoed several times, ringing in her ears.
Liv continued on, her fingers tight on the wall for support. She felt like the next step could send her to the ground. Strangely, great trepidation rattled around inside Liv, as if she were walking into a dungeon, about to face another villain. The bruises on her face prickled, reminding her of the battle she’d just faced.
The firelight ahead grew brighter, giving a hint of a strange sitting area ahead. The smell of vanilla was almost intoxicating now. Liv took in a deep breath, letting the scent fill her lungs like it was nourishment.
“Papa Creola?” Liv asked again when she made out an armchair in front of a giant fireplace. Above the mantle was a large hourglass.
“Yes, you’re almost here,” Papa Creola answered. “Come take a seat, Warrior Liv Beaufont.”
The light from the fire brightened suddenly and torches on the walls lit, flaring several feet into the air until lowering to small flames. With the help of the light, Liv realized she was in a cave. That explained the slippery floor and chilly air. However, where Papa Creola sat in the large chair, there was also a broad oriental rug, a coffee table, an ottoman, and a leather sofa.
Liv blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust as she took in the details of the room. She noticed that granules of sand in the hourglass were slipping through the bottleneck. However, the amount of sand on the top didn’t diminish, and it also didn’t build up on the bottom.
“I guess you haven’t considered putting an elevator in this joint, have you?” Liv asked, grateful when her feet met the rug. She took a seat on the couch, finding it extraordinarily comfortable.
