Smoke, Vampires, and Mirrors (Sasha Urban Series Book 7)

by Dima Zales

  With my vampire-boosted hearing, I hear Ariel and Felix making fun of my superhero name in hushed whispers.

  Really? It’s not like I named myself in honor of my deceased vehicle. I came up with Vespa based on an acronym V.S.P.—as in, Vampire, Seer, and Probability Manipulator.

  Sugar Gliders, Neo Golems, and others in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

  Anyway, I’m stuck with this hero name because of selflessness. Being a nice person, I gave all the cool ones I could think of to others.

  “You’ve met my mother, Lady Night.” I gesture into the distance. “She got her powers when Tartarus cursed her with vampirism—and I got mine because she was pregnant with me at the time.”

  Did I just rip off the backstory from Blade? Nah. Not if I didn’t become a vampire slayer.

  In any case, the power demo is what’s key—not what I actually say.

  “Now, as the saying goes, ‘Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.’” I land gently on the stage. “I don’t expect you to just believe that I’m a superhero. I will show you my powers, under test conditions. Then, and only then, you can decide for yourselves what you will or will not believe.”

  I proceed to demo the powers I didn’t get a chance to show the last time I was on TV.

  To start, I heal a badly injured woman that one of the teleporters brought from a local hospital. I do so by cutting my wrist with a knife and letting the woman drink my blood.

  I sure hope Ariel isn’t watching this part.

  The woman’s injuries heal without a trace—which impresses even me.

  No illusions here.

  The woman comes to her senses and looks around in confusion as a couple of Cognizant come to take her away.

  The feeling of pleasure I experienced the last time I was on the air hits me again—but not as intently as before. Whatever boost to my vampirism I just got, it must be a subtle one.

  “Now I will prove my own super-healing abilities,” I say, and instead of actually cutting myself for real, I perform the effect where I appear to cut off my hand, then “heal” the lost limb with my powers.

  The pleasant feeling grows stronger, but I ignore it and keep going.

  “I move faster than the fastest person alive,” I say. To “prove” this, I perform my version of the classic stage illusion called “teleportation”—the one where the illusionist goes from one location to another using sneaky business instead of mystical superpowers.

  The pleasant feelings grow stronger still.

  People are clearly believing even the fake part of the demonstration—as I hoped they might.

  Thanks to the stuff I did for real, stage illusions aren’t perceived as such anymore.

  This bodes well for what we have prepared for the rest of the Cognizant—and they need the boost more than I do.

  “My senses are keener than anyone else I know,” I continue, then take out a special blindfold and perform my favorite “seeing without sight” routine.

  The pleasant feeling is borderline overwhelming.

  I need to stop because if I keep pushing, I will pass out again.

  “The next superhero you will meet is a close ally of mine,” I say theatrically. “His name is Drakon.”

  I step off the stage, allowing Nero to take my place.

  Perhaps it’s my demonstration already boosting my vision, or just good lighting, but Nero looks spectacular standing there, looking into the camera with his strange eyes.

  Without a single word, he turns into his dragon form, his outfit bursting into shreds.

  Oh yeah.

  On a world with eighties-level special effects, it doesn’t get any better than this as far as demonstrations go. Nero as a dragon is so massive he takes up the entire stage, and even with the super-tall ceilings in the theater, the top of his scaly head brushes the ceiling. Slowly, he blinks into the camera, showing off the dragony limbal rings and, just for fun, exhales a small stream of fire.

  The Cognizant who are sitting there in place of the audience let out startled screams, adding to the drama of it all.

  With another flash, Nero turns back and gives the ladies at home something to drool over before he dons the intact version of his outfit and blurs off the stage.

  Kit goes on after Nero. She tells everyone she is Fox Ninja, then turns into a whole zoo worth of creatures and people, including a white-haired man that she claims is this country’s president.

  Felix goes after Kit. For the most part, he lets his space-age suit speak for itself, but he also demonstrates his ability to control random electronics around the globe.

  Then Ariel goes on, displaying feats of strength even greater than what she’s capable of by using a neat little tidbit I learned from a magic book written by a guy who worked as a martial arts teacher for many years. Apparently, a lot of those very impressive “fist breaks concrete” videos on YouTube are done by cheating—the exact method of which the magician in me enjoyed learning and loves implementing today even more.

  Next go some of the folks from the local Council, with Roslin as Earth Shaker and so on.

  After about an hour of demonstrations, I get tired of watching it all and decide to locate Nero to continue our earlier chat.

  Not that I know what I’ll say when I find him. I just know something must be said.

  I sprint down a corridor to see if my performance boosted my speed as I hoped.

  Yep.

  I’m not yet blurring like Nero, but this is as close as I’ve ever gotten.

  Looping through the studio passageways at breakneck speed, I find Nero—except he’s not alone.

  On the floor next to him is an unconscious werewolf, while in his right hand is a neck.

  A neck attached to a person whose feet are dangling ten inches off the floor.

  An extremely familiar person.

  “Nostradamus?” I say, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

  The seer grunts something unintelligible. I guess having your throat crushed can do that.

  “Nero, let him go, please,” I say. “I want to know why he’d come here after everything he did.”

  With a growl, Nero drops his victim—who falls on the ground next to the werewolf that I now recognize as Marius.

  “I guess from your point of view, I deserved that,” Nostradamus rasps, rubbing his neck. “Sasha, I’m sorry I took your powers, and your father’s. I had to. I swear.”

  “You did?” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’d love to hear why—especially in front of Nero, who can tell if you lie.”

  “I’m actually counting on his lie detection.” Nostradamus takes out something from his pocket and puts it under Marius’s nose.

  The werewolf recovers instantly, and whines like a dog as he returns to his feet.

  Was that bits of bacon or smelling salts?

  “Speak,” Nero growls at the seer. “Convince me not to kill you.”

  “Tartarus is arriving on this world in twenty minutes.” Nostradamus pats the ground to locate his dark shades, then hides his ruined eyes behind them.

  “No.” I look at Nero. “Rasputin said the gates open at 6:45 p.m. We still have about an hour.”

  “That’s when his army arrives.” Nostradamus soothingly pets the whining Marius. “Tartarus and a select group of his offspring always arrive sooner, so he can make it to his TV appearance.”

  Crap. This jives with Jaylen’s experience.

  “You still haven’t given us a reason for why you took Sasha’s powers,” Nero says harshly. “Or Rasputin’s, for that matter.”

  “I did,” Nostradamus says. “It’s as I told you at the Council meeting on Earth. Everything needs to play out just right, and I can’t have another seer meddling with the outcomes.”

  “But I’m destined to win, right?” I ask. “That’s what you foresaw long ago, before I was even born?”

  Nostradamus sighs. “Your father derailed that specific future when he stole you from your mother and l
et you be raised by humans. So we all have to readjust. I’ve seen over twenty million versions of what’s about to come—and therefore know of countless ways to fail. In one future, though, there is a chance. The problem, as always, is that probability manipulation is at play, so I can’t tell you for certain that we’ll win.”

  “Not good enough,” Nero hisses, reaching to choke him again.

  Marius growls at Nero as Nostradamus rattles out, “I’m one of the people who needs to be there when you face him, Sasha. In every future without me, we fail.”

  I look at Nero, and he angrily nods. Nostradamus is telling the truth.

  “Fine. You live,” Nero says grimly. “But if you can’t guarantee a victory, I’m not letting Sasha risk her life.”

  Before I can remind His Imperial Majesty that I make choices for myself, Nostradamus says, “She has to face him today. Otherwise, she’s as good as dead.”

  Nero’s hands grow claw-like, and he slams a fist into a wall next to Marius, shattering it into pieces.

  Undaunted by the destruction, Nostradamus continues. “Without Sasha, Tartarus won’t be killed. That’s for certain. And if he survives, he’ll investigate why the people here were so well prepared for his arrival. He’ll learn about Sasha, and he’ll set his sights on her, not stopping until she’s dead—no matter where you hide her.”

  The seer must not be lying, because Nero breaks another wall in a burst of fury.

  “Not that I’m going to run, but how can that last part be true?” I ask as Marius whimpers. “How can Tartarus kill me on, say, the dragon world?”

  “He can drain energy from dragons, same as from other Cognizant.” Nostradamus soothes Marius with a scratch behind the ears. “It will take him decades to rebuild his forces and attack, but attack he will. Oh, and since he’ll know he’ll be facing a seer and a probability manipulator, he’ll breed an army accordingly.”

  Before Nero can bring the whole place crashing down around us, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop, please. I have to do this. We don’t have a choice.”

  Nostradamus nods. “This surprise attack is the best shot at Tartarus. It’s a culmination of years of planning on my part and—”

  “Wait,” I say. “I thought you wanted us to face him on Lilith’s world?”

  “He lied when he said it was the only option,” Nero growls. “Now I see why. He knew there would also be this opportunity.”

  “I did,” Nostradamus says. “As always, I had a hard time anticipating what Lilith would do because she’s a probability manipulator.”

  “Speaking of that,” I say. “How did you even manage to foresee Tartarus’s arrival this time? Doesn’t he still have that Lug guy?”

  “I’m a much, much better seer now,” Nostradamus says darkly. “But you bring up a good point. Lug is yet another reason I can never be sure of an outcome. He will be there, at Tartarus’s side.”

  “If we know where he’ll be, why don’t we put a bomb there with a timer?” Nero clenches and unclenches his fist. “Or send a squadron of humans to gun him down?”

  “Because of Heph, Tartarus’s son who can create something like forcefields around himself and his father.” Nostradamus takes out some kind of beef jerky and hands it to Marius. “Bullets or fire from an explosion can’t penetrate Heph’s fields. Only the gate sword can.”

  “A force manipulator?” I say. “How come we don’t have one?” I look at Nero accusingly.

  “I looked for one for centuries, but they’re exceedingly rare,” he answers. “They also don’t look traditionally human—so they can’t live on modern worlds with a Mandate.”

  “And Tartarus destroyed the world where most of them lived,” Nostradamus adds. “Their force fields couldn’t stop his power.”

  “Great, so even if we had one, it wouldn’t help,” I grumble. “The news just gets better and better.”

  “We have to make haste,” Nostradamus says.

  “Hold on,” Nero says. “What else can you tell us about this fight?”

  “I can tell you who should go, and who shouldn’t,” Nostradamus says. “I can also tell you who can use their powers and how. And who shouldn’t.” He gives Nero a pointed look.

  “If you say I can’t go, I will call this whole thing off,” Nero growls at him.

  “No, you must go.” Nostradamus pushes his glasses higher up his nose. “You just can’t turn into your dragon form. In every future where you do, it all goes to hell.”

  “That’s just great,” I say. “Can we breathe when we get there? Can we use our arms?”

  “I’m only trying to help,” Nostradamus says defensively. “My life will be on the line as much as yours. I’m one of the people you have to bring.”

  “Fine,” I say. “Tell us who else should go on this suicide mission.”

  “Besides me and the two of you, it should be Lilith,” Nostradamus says. “And Vlad, because vampires are harder for Tartarus and his kind to drain. Also Roslin, because her earth-controlling ability will help us deal with the gate. Additionally, Chester would be helpful in dealing with Lug, but we have to convince him to join us. With his probability manipulation powers, I can’t predict what he’ll do.” He takes a breath. “Any local vampires who are willing should join as well, for the same reason as Vlad—but not Lucretia, as worrying about her fate will make you lose. For that last reason, we also can’t bring Ariel, Felix, or Rasputin.”

  I glare at the seer. “Are you trying to say I don’t care what happens to Nero and Vlad? Not to mention, my half-brother Chester and my biological mother—”

  “It’s what you hedge fund types would call a cost-benefit analysis,” Nostradamus says. “Lilith, Chester, and Nero are so critical to the mission, they must go despite your feelings on the matter. And Vlad needs to go because I saw him in the version of the future where there’s a chance of winning.”

  “That’s just peachy,” I say. “Anything else?”

  “The teleporters can only take us there, but they can’t stay and fight,” Nostradamus says, ignoring my sarcasm. “I saw a million futures where Tartarus manages to force a teleporter to take him to safety.”

  “What if we glamour them?” a familiar voice says from around the corner.

  Is that—

  Yep.

  Lilith steps out from her hiding spot, where she likely eavesdropped on the whole conversation.

  “If they’re glamoured, they’re as good as dead,” Nostradamus answers, unfazed.

  Lilith’s smile is predatory. “That’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

  Nostradamus shakes his head. “Why have them die when they can greatly help in the fights with Tartarus’s spawn? If they stay with us and die, they’re of no use to anyone.”

  “Fine,” Lilith says. “But I’m now in the mood to glamour someone.”

  “You’ll get the chance,” Nostradamus says. “Can we go?”

  “Let’s,” Nero says, and strides down the corridor.

  When we turn the corner opposite the one where Lilith hid, we bump into Chester—who also seems to have been eavesdropping.

  How lucky that he was in the right place at the right time, just like his mother.

  “I heard everything,” he says, confirming my suspicion. A satyr-like grin appears on his face as he announces, “Mommy, sis, I’m coming with you. Of course, I have some ideas as to my compensation.”

  “Freaking probability manipulators,” Nostradamus mumbles under his breath.

  We resume walking, and Nero and Lilith work out what they’ll do for Chester as a thank-you for his help. He lets himself get convinced rather quickly—which makes me think he would’ve helped regardless, but is milking the situation since he can.

  Once we get to the stage area, we locate everyone else, except Vlad.

  “What do you need Vlad for?” Kit says when I ask if she’s seen him.

  “He’s going to help us in an epic fight.” Chester pulls violently on the ear of his Jester hat.

/>   “How fun. Can I also go?” Kit is all but jumping up and down with anticipation.

  “You will help greatly in your currently assigned post,” Nero says.

  “Fine.” Kit pouts. “I’ll go get Vlad for you.”

  She goes away, and while we wait for Vlad, we tell Eric about the people Nostradamus insisted we bring, and that, unlike Vlad, he and the other teleporters can’t be there during the fight. Afterward, we recruit Roslin—who then convinces a bunch of local vamps and teleporters to help us as well.

  Vlad walks out from backstage. He’s wearing all black and is holding one of the lances that were used to pierce dragon hide during Nero’s campaign—the ones with the super-hard diamond-like tip. The weapon is part of his superhero getup. Perhaps not very creatively, we dubbed him The Impaler after a Vlad from Earth’s history that the locals haven’t heard of.

  It’s one of the many superhero names we’ve given people that could also work if they decide to pursue a career in the porn industry.

  “Where are we going?” asks one of the local teleporters.

  “It’s called Fun Palace,” Nostradamus says without a hint of mirth in his voice. “It’s on Avenue S and North 24th Street.”

  “I know it,” the guy says.

  “Can you show me?” Eric walks over to him.

  The local teleporter nods and takes Eric by his shoulder. They poof away and come back almost right away.

  Next, each teleporter grabs two local vampires by the shoulder and takes them to their destination before coming back to transport Vlad and the rest of the vamps.

  “Your turn.” Eric walks up to me, glances warily at Nero, and carefully lays a hand on my shoulder. He then touches Nero, and we poof once more.

  We arrive in a giant open space lit by blacklights and filled to the brim with ancient-looking arcade machines that beep and ding all around us.

  I recognize Galaga, Donkey Kong, Pac-Man, Space Invaders, Dig Dug, Defender, and Frogger because these are all games Felix made me try at some point. That they exist here is further proof that the Otherworld game rip-off business is a real thing.

  The place is almost empty. The few people that are here are clustered around a wall of TVs in the back rather than playing games.