by Al K. Line
The book wriggled and squirmed in my spasming hands, the pages flicking fast back and forth, and I shook and swatted as I pushed harder, searching for the page from whence it came. It whirled closer and all turned to blackness once more.
Then white light surged from between the pages and I gasped in relief as the fractured remnants of a once powerful creature, okay, still a handful, were dragged back inside with a scream that sent me careening into the wall once more.
As I sank to my knees, unable to see because of the blinding light, I snapped the book shut with a jittery hand.
Silence.
I took the opportunity to rest awhile, but I absolutely did not fall asleep as now wasn't the time for such things. And I know for certain I didn't snore or anything.
"Arthur, Arthur, wake up," came the distant voice of Vicky. Something was shaking me side to side and I sprang to my feet in a panic, searching the room for the creature or more Hounds.
"What? Where is it?"
"Where's what?" asked Vicky.
"Eh? Ugh, doesn't matter. You okay?" She looked mussed up, ponytail not as tight as usual, meaning it wasn't dragging her eyebrows onto the top of her head, but she had all her limbs and her head was where it should be, so she looked better than I felt.
"Fine. My back hurts but I'll be okay." Vicky shrugged it off. For a mini-mom waif she sure was tough, more's the pity. Nothing that happened to her, to me, to us, seemed to shake her resolve for long, and she insisted being my sidekick was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and I understood.
"Shit," I said, not knowing what else to say as I took in the mess of flesh that was all that remained of the Hounds piled up in the corner.
"Did you do that?" Vicky looked at me funny, ready to chastise me for what was apparently an experiment to see how much damage could be done to a human face.
"No, of course not! Um, maybe one? And the one earlier." I stared forlornly at the smashed TV. "Where is he?"
Vicky nodded out into the hall where the head of the goon I'd killed could be seen. She had a point. He didn't look much better, it had to be said.
"Wonder how he got there," I mused.
I checked the book, and it was still closed. I fished out a band from my pocket, snapped it around the ancient leather, then put it away and closed the fastener. The sooner this was gone the better. I always hated books like this, they were too unstable and too damn scary by far.
"What now?" asked Vicky, her shock fading, replaced with a nervous twitch at the corner of her mouth, her perpetual perky smile returning.
"Now? Now I call the Cleaner, get these twats removed, then we finish the job we came to do. And then, my little munchkin, we go deal with Nathan. This is it, no more games. He tried to kill me, and his petty revenge just because I won't give him the things I steal is getting right on my tits. This ends."
"Yes!" Vicky punched the air and did her awful mom dance.
Buster's hat! What was wrong with her?
New Broker
Steve, badger shifter and general cool guy, had become a friend in the weeks since we'd first met. He was a little too hip for my taste, and I never trusted a man who put product in his hair, let alone had a shiny beard—it wasn't the wizard way—but he was a good guy and I liked him even though he made me feel inadequate and very, very old.
There's nothing like being in the presence of a twenty-something shifter who oozes sexual charm through his every pore to make a wizard raging through his forties feel a little unsure of himself. But I forgave him his good looks as he was a man and a nice guy, both of which were sorely lacking in my life.
He'd also become a middleman of sorts, discovering how lucrative the business in magical artifacts was, mostly because of getting to know yours truly. His world, and his work acting as bodyguard to anyone who would pay, meant he knew plenty of people, and he'd reached out to see if I'd do a job for him. At first I was reluctant, but he'd promised it would be a breeze and it was.
It was what came after, namely Cerberus, that was the issue. That wasn't down to Steve though, it was Nathan and his insistence on interfering in my life.
The handover was almost due, so bruised, battered, half asleep, and more than a little twitchy we left to keep our appointment after the Cleaner disposed of the bodies and tidied up the house a little. Later that day I'd complete the move, and it couldn't come quick enough. Cerberus attacking me there was the final straw, and the sooner I relocated the portal the better.
Wards back in place, a new door fitted thanks to the Cleaner and her seemingly endless contacts, Vicky and I forced our tired, aching bodies into a car I'd forgotten I'd swapped out yet again, and went to sell the book and be about our business.
"Don't you need to sleep?" asked Vicky as I weaved through the early morning traffic, lost to dreams and so weary I was shocked my bones hadn't crumbled.
"Yes, I need to sleep. But after the last few jobs, I want to get this over with pronto. Then I can rest. You too. You look done for, you know?" I glanced at Vicky and she did look tired, no matter how she tried to disguise it. But she was hyped as this was the first job she'd been on with me since the Ræth Næg. Her kids and husband had returned from their trips all too soon, and it was back to being a suburban housewife and mom for a while, no time for the few jobs I'd accepted in the meantime.
Why I'd even taken them I wasn't sure, as the paycheck for the Ræth Næg was hefty, even after Vicky's more than generous split.
"The kids have been running me ragged," said Vicky with a sigh but also with a smile. She loved them more than life itself, and for a while she'd been happy slipping back into the doting parental role. But it didn't last, and the lust for adventure grew stronger until she was practically begging me, okay, she did actually beg, to take a job she could help on.
So I took this job from Steve and now we were off to meet him and his buyer. Steve would get whatever the buyer had agreed to pay him, none of my business, and I'd get a nice sum myself. Enough to pay for the new house I'd already secured in a secret location in the city that absolutely nobody knew of. It was bought secretly through Sasha, who helped with all the dealings so nobody could ever tie me to the property.
"How's the Slug?" I asked, knowing it would be the same old nonsense.
"Ugh, he's got worse. When he came home he was quite sweet, even brought presents, but after a few days he was back moaning about work and making me feel like it's all my fault." Vicky shrugged, saying it was what it was and leaving it at that.
"Guess it's stressful," I offered, trying to be diplomatic.
"Yes, but he's the one that wants to work so hard. He can't turn around and blame me for how much the house and the kids and everything costs when he's the one who has to have the best of everything to keep up with the idiots he works with."
"Wow, that's not like you." Normally Vicky was all for being the perfect mom and housewife, making it her duty to be prim, pristine, sporty, and perky at all times. But I knew much of it was a facade and secretly she hated the trap she was in, but she never spoke about it like this.
"I think I'll have to strangle him," she said, sounding more serious than I'd expected. I turned to her and she smiled, but there was a darkness behind the sweetness. She was coming close to the end of her tether. Hopefully this distraction would allow her to put things into perspective.
I parked up in the city, fed the ravenous meter, then we headed to a small cafe run by Candy, blond bombshell shifter and owner. We peered in through the window but it was empty apart from Candy arranging chairs, so I opened the door to the tiny sanctuary wedged between two office buildings and entered after Vicky.
"Hey, Candy." I gave my most winningest of smiles and put my arms out for a hug.
"Hey," she said, then continued with her work.
"Hi, Candy," said Vicky, and went up to her and gave her a cuddle. Candy did the same back.
Life wasn't fair. They'd met exactly once but were now apparently buddies. I'd been coming
here regularly with Steve for weeks and still hadn't had any cuddles, let alone a fondle.
Still, I knew the old Hat charm was working on her. She looked at me strangely sometimes, wondering why it was she was drawn to me. At least that's what I liked to think. She might have just wished I'd stop making the place look untidy.
We took a seat and moments later the door opened.
Steve swaggered in, all smiles and manly pheromones as usual. He stepped aside and a vampire, complete with goons, traipsed in and filled the cafe with violent emanations and very goon-shaped bodies.
Familiar Face
"It's you," I said, somehow not surprised.
"Astute as always," replied the Second.
Steve looked from me to the Second, smile wavering, then decided the best thing to do was to sit down next to Vicky. "Hey, Arthur, hey, Vicky."
"Hi, Steve," said Vicky, her neck flushing.
"When did you become interested in dangerous books like this?" I asked the Second, easing it out of my pocket carefully and placing it on the clean table.
"Since Father asked me to be," he said eyeing the book with a frown.
"I see." I wasn't quite sure I did.
"Who's that?" Vicky whispered to Steve, her idea of a whisper my idea of basically shouting. Everyone turned to her and I watched as she fought with focusing on the Second, her memory of him already fading, unable to keep him sharp and clear in her mind.
I was used to the powerful vampires now and had adjusted my senses, attuning to the wavelength they vibrated on so he was no longer such a bland, forgettable human being. Vicky had no such luxury and for her he would be the most boring, unmemorable person she'd ever met. Which was great cover for the vamps, but made it hard to best them if you were a citizen, not to mention the teeth and incredible strength, of course.
"Wait here," I said to Vicky, and nodded for Steve and the Second to join me at a table at the back of the small room.
"No, I'm part of this. I helped you get it and I want to be here for the deal." Vicky crossed her arms across her chest, Steve nudged his chair closer with a smile at me and then an extended stare at Vicky's sporty sweater.
"Fine, but don't interrupt," I ordered.
The Second sat while the goons loomed in a suitably loomy and goony way. "Any problems?" asked the Second.
"Yeah, Cerberus paid me a visit this morning, slammed Vicky into a wall, tried to kill me, on Nathan's orders, and I had to eliminate three of—"
"Four," interrupted Vicky.
"Ah, yeah, four of them. And now I know why. Guess he knew you wanted this and wasn't happy, so decided to kill me and take it."
"He is an annoyance," said the Second.
"Gee, thanks for your concern." I watched for any signs of what he might know, but he wasn't the sharing is caring type.
"This is your business, it can be dangerous." The Second pulled out a small and very smart piece of electronic gadgetry and angled it so I could see him make the transfer of funds into my account. My phone pinged a moment later and I checked then put it away. I pushed the book across the table and he turned to a goon and nodded. The goon picked it up with gloved hands, slipped it into a briefcase, then snapped it shut before retreating to lurk with renewed intent.
"Okay, guys, good job. Let's celebrate." Steve looked rather relieved and a bit sweaty. He was new to this stuff and out of his league, but he was a big boy and if he thought it was worth the risk it was his choice.
"I'm afraid I have pressing business, and the light is very tiring."
"Sure thing. Nice doing business with you." Steve stood and smiled politely but his leg twitched and it was obvious he wanted them gone as much as I did. Why he'd chosen the cafe for the exchange was niggling me, but I guess he wanted a sense of the familiar, and backup from Candy just in case.
She was at the counter, wiping down, but it was obvious to everyone that she was a bodyguard herself and keeping a close eye on proceedings.
"Have a good day," said the Second, and he got slowly to his feet. He was weak as a kitten and his jaw clenched as he stepped to the door. He pulled up a hood from his long coat, breathed deeply, then was gone.
"You could have warned me," I snapped at Steve.
"Didn't wanna worry you, mate," he said beaming wide and pulling out his phone to check the notification he'd had. "Sweet." Guess his payment was pretty good.
"One question," I said. "Why go through you? I know that guy, know Ivan, why use you?"
"Haha, I thought that too and asked the spooky guy. The Second. Said you were kind of trouble, but the best, so they'd rather keep their distance, have an intermediary."
"Oh, right."
Comes to something when even the vampires think you're a liability and want to have someone else make contact. But it hadn't worked, had it? Cerberus still found out what was going on and now Nathan would be more pissed than ever. Screw him.
Candy brought over coffees and as I sipped I wondered why Mikalus was taking an interest in magical artifacts. Was he a collector, trying to build up his collection again after such a long hiatus from the land of the living? Or did he want this specific book for another reason?
Not my problem. I'd had it with trying to second-guess the motives of all these guys. The vampires would do what they wanted, there was no stopping them anyway, so keeping in their good books was a smart move.
As for Nathan, I'd see him dead soon enough.
I fell asleep and woke up screaming as my nose burned. I'd nodded forward and dunked it in the scalding coffee.
The life of a wildcat wizard is always surprising. Never a dull moment.
Drama
My bank balance was almost as big as my ego, but just as easily deflated. There were times in my life when I had millions, and others when I had nothing, and the only difference in the level of happiness achieved was the quality of the person I spent something much more important than money with. Time.
That's not to say that a shitload, and especially a fuckton, of cash doesn't help. Living in Cornwall on a nice farm in a big house with land and animals and zero air or light pollution went a long way to improving my demeanor, and sharing it all with my daughter made the setup sweet, verging on perfect.
What wasn't sweet was the small house in the city that housed the Gate of Bakaudif, the portal that allowed me to step from the city to the country rather than drive through the endless lanes that would take hours to get me to the sticks. But every magical user and supernatural baddie in the UK seemed to know where the damn portal was now. It had been bad enough that a few knew the location of my real home, intolerable that others knew the portal's whereabouts.
So after getting paid for delivering a magical belt to a rather intimidating elf, I splurged and bought another property in the city, and today was the day of the big move. It would be a long one, probably annoying, as it would involve Vicky and a whole host of other oddballs. It certainly hadn't got off to an auspicious start.
Back at the house, I got to work with hammer and chisel and hacked rough plasterwork that kept the Gate hidden from casual inspection. Several dust-filled hours later the ancient artifact was revealed in all its glory. A stone arch carved thousands of years ago, its provenance lost to the annals of time. Nobody had ever figured out how it worked, who had made it, or even how far apart the gates could be. All I knew was I'd acquired it after years of searching, spent a fortune to retrieve both gates, and even more sneaking them back into the country.
I stood in a pile of broken plaster, white from the dust, and admired the portal. It was covered in carvings of an unknown language, never seen before or since, sigils or runes or maybe even letters decorating every inch. The Gate was beautiful, and it was priceless, and it was my means of escape when the city became too much.
It was also stupidly heavy.
Carefully, I removed the wooden shuttering I'd constructed to keep it in place, ripped off the last of the protective covering so the plasterwork never touched the stone i
tself, and with some magic-boosted manhandling I heaved it down to the ruined carpet piece by piece. Vicky helped me wrap it all in thick black plastic and once done I stepped through the hallway into the kitchen for the first time in years and made a cuppa.
I'd miss the cramped house, it was part of my life, my routine, but I'd get it cleaned up and sell it once I knew the Gate was rehomed successfully.
While we stood in the tiny, dated kitchen drinking our tea, I breathed in deep, steeled myself, and said, "You have to eat."
Vicky slammed her mug down on the old but clean counter and scowled at me. "Don't start," she warned.
"I'm not, honest. You know I worry." And I did. She'd changed in the weeks since the job, and not for the better. She was getting too scrawny, her clothes were hanging loose, and I knew she'd been buying new ones to hide how much weight she'd lost. I could see it in her face, her fragile bone structure revealing how gaunt she'd become. The little chipmunk cheeks she had when she was doing well and eating properly had been replaced with sharp bone and it didn't look healthy.
"I'm trying."
"Of course you are," I soothed, "but you need to try harder. For the kids."
At the mention of her kids, Vicky's head snapped up and she poked me hard in the chest repeatedly as she said, "Don't bring them into this. Don't you use my children like that."
"Hey, I'm trying to help. I worry," I said lamely, knowing this would go the same way it had so many times before. But what was I supposed to do, pretend it wasn't happening? "What's going on?" There was always a trigger, but this time it was different, one of the worst.
"I think Harry's having an affair."
"Harry? Who's Harry?"
"My husband!"
I'd honestly forgotten as I'd called him the Slug for so long that his real name had slipped my mind. "Oh, right. Haha. Um, seriously?" I tried to imagine the fat, weak, utterly annoying man Vicky had become trapped with having an affair, and it didn't fit. Sure, he used to be a handsome guy when they were younger, but he'd let himself go in a major way. Harry seemed to revel in his flesh, his junk food addiction, his tendency to over-indulge at every opportunity, and I'd often wondered if that wasn't why Vicky's eating disorders had escalated over time. The worse he got, the weaker and fatter and more consumed with his work he became, the less Vicky ate.
