Misery Happens

by Tracey Martin

  My charms stayed activated long enough that I saw the statue, the humans and more explode in slow motion.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Like fireworks, curse grenades didn’t have to make noise. Most people who made them added the boom, not merely for the effect but to let the person using it know the device had released its contents.

  The curse grenade these anti-magers set off didn’t make a sound, but the device exploded anyway and in completely surreal fashion because of it. A silent, golden flash blasted the statue and a good chunk of the traffic island into millions of granite pebbles and a few boulders. And there began the noise.

  The debris stormed down on the intersection, smashing car windshields and bodies, and crashing into the asphalt. Horns honked and people screamed. Screeching metal and shattering glass followed and followed, a series of never-ending echoes as cars continued to collide and alarms wailed.

  Down on the ground, I’d covered my head with my arms so I didn’t see it, but I could hear and imagine it. Some of it I felt, a hailstorm of unknown objects pelting me in the back.

  The blast itself was over in seconds, and then the grenade went off again. I’d raised my head, coughing from the dust that landed on me, and so I saw the encore. Green sparks shot off in all directions from the rubble. Swearing in shock, I barely darted out of the path of one as it streaked by my head. It punched a hole into the building behind me, and a second flash of light—also green this time—followed. A horrendous shriek and explosive rumble came from inside the building.

  And still, the original sparks kept flying in a beautifully deadly starburst pattern until they hit a target. Booms and the sound of things breaking reverberated in all directions. Buildings and the ground trembled.

  I blinked a couple times, my eyes feeling like they were coated in dust. “Steph, you okay?”

  She was huddled next to me, her arms wrapped around her purse and shopping bag, her head on the sticky, gross concrete. Coughing, she lifted her head. “What the hell?”

  “Come on.” I climbed to my feet, dismayed to see how close I’d been to get hitting by a car that had been rear-ended. “We need to get away from the street.”

  A haze of golden dust hung over the intersection, and the air smelled toxic. In the distance, sirens announced the arrival of some sort of authority, but it wasn’t the Gryphons. Their sirens had a very distinctive sound. Whoever it was, I couldn’t see how they were going to make it through this clusterfuck in their cars. Yet somehow they had to. People were screaming and their fear was increasing, warning me that there were serious injuries nearby.

  Steph coughed again, her breathing wheezy. I helped her to sit by a pile of concrete bricks that once been part of a building. “Can you walk?” I asked. “Can you leave without me and get back to the hospital?”

  “Without you?” Steph covered her mouth with her hand. “Where are you going?”

  I wasn’t sure. I was used to chasing after the bad guys, fighting to stop them. But in this case, the bad guys were already dead. It was the good ones who needed attention.

  Rising panic surrounded me, pulling me in all directions. I couldn’t sense physical pain or magi emotions at all, but the mental anguish of the terrified and dying humans reverberated in my bones. It was both chilling and energizing, and for once, it was useful that these awful emotions juiced me. I could help a few people, I hoped. My problem was I didn’t know where to start. Nor did I have anything helpful on me.

  “Get on your phone. Call the Gryphons. I’m sure someone already has, but do it anyway just in case.” I assessed the former building behind Steph, fairly certain someone was trapped under the rubble. “And keep your head down.”

  Steph coughed in reply as I climbed through the ruined façade, tracking the trail of fear. What was left of the building’s frame creaked and swayed around me. Shit. I had to be fast, and I had to get Steph farther away from this deathtrap.

  Sunlight beat down through the broken windows, illuminating a collapsed staircase. Keyboards lay on the ground, some with keys jutting out at odd angle and others simply broken in two. Guitars had been smashed to pieces, and books of sheet music had blown over the clutter. Remnants of other instruments littered the floor.

  The rubble shifted under my feet as I maneuvered closer to the person I could sense. Catching my balance, I barely distinguished a white feather among the broken wood. “Anyone there?”

  Two voices answered my question. One of them had to belong to a human, a young one from the sound of it.

  “Hold on. I’m going to dig you out.” My strength charms activated, burning like brands on my skin as I tossed aside heavy bits of wood and plaster. Nails tore at my jeans, and glass fragments burrowed into my palms. As I worked, more charms heated up. Endurance, pain relief, speed. I didn’t have a clue what some of them were.

  The remains of the staircase shook, and I hauled away more crap. I was making what was left of it more unstable, but if there was a better way to do this, I hadn’t any idea what it was. My only equipment was my hands, so I’d simply have to work faster.

  The magi came free first, a burly owl shifter who flung the last piece of rubble off himself with my help. He had one arm wrapped around a young human boy, clearly having tried to shelter the child with his body.

  “I got you. We’ll get him next.” I held out my scratched and bleeding hand.

  The magi grabbed it and tumbled out of the gap in the rubble. He was stooped over, feathers crushed and likely sporting broken bones. Blood stained The Beatles T-shirt he wore. “Jonah, the boy—his leg is trapped.”

  “I’ll get him. Get outside if you can. This building isn’t stable.”

  The magi didn’t leave though. He hovered around me, doing what he could to help, including continuously speaking in a calm voice to the boy, for which I was grateful. Every time I got more cleared, the boy tried to move and ended up yelling in pain. Tears glistened in his eyes, but he didn’t cry even as plaster dust drizzled on his head.

  At last I shoved the final chuck of drywall away, revealing his bloody leg. I was totally going to have to carry him out of here.

  “Come on.” I knelt to his level and held out my arms, all the while hoping my back or my charms didn’t give out.

  He winced as I lifted him, and his voice trembled. “Where’s my mom?”

  Mom? I glanced at the magi, and his face filled with worry. Shit. Focusing my gift in the immediate area told me nothing good. I couldn’t sense another human in the rubble.

  Breathe, I told myself. His mother might simply be unconscious.

  “We’ll find her,” I said.

  “That’s right. We will.” The magi stroked the boy’s head. “You need to keep being brave.”

  Didn’t we all.

  A wood beam crashed to the floor as I adjusted my grip on Jonah, mere inches from where he’d been trapped. I jumped, barely repressing a curse, and he tightened his grip around my neck. More dust rained down, and the building moaned.

  “That’s it, we’re out. Come on.” Caution warred with my need to hurry as I navigated the treacherous floor. With the magi’s help, I managed not to lose my footing, but it was close. I nearly twisted my ankle when a brown blur caught my eye and distracted me. A dragon was my first thought, but no. Dragons never got that dark a shade. It was probably more falling debris.

  Outside, chaos continued to rule. The helicopters that had been circling the city were above us, and a couple cops had appeared but with no sign of their vehicles. The dozens of cars and trucks involved in the massive pileups had emptied of their passengers, at least those not seriously injured. Humans and magi roamed the streets, dazed, frantic and more often than not bleeding.

  Searching for a safe spot to set down the boy, I finally came to the conclusion that none existed. I left him with the magi at a fair distance from the building by a totaled minivan.<
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  “The Gryphons are already on their way. But, Jess?” Steph swayed on her feet, tugging on my arm. “Purple smoke—that’s salamanders.”

  “What? Where?” I saw it as I asked. It was behind the building I’d emerged from. There wasn’t a lot yet, only a simple purple wisp. But after a few salamanders had burned part of the city not so long ago, no one in Boston was ignorant of how quickly they could grow. Or how much they could destroy. “Shit.”

  Steph grabbed the hood of the nearest car for support and sat on it. Its owner was too busy gazing around in dismay to notice, and Steph pulled out a cigarette with a shaky hand. “Can you catch it?”

  I laughed without humor. “Maybe if I had a spelled net or some sprites, but catching salamanders is a bit outside my experience and I don’t have those things.” I didn’t wish to face it down either. Been there, done that once. Had nearly had my skin seared off.

  If I didn’t do anything though, there was no telling how much damage the creature could do. For that matter, there was no telling how many there were. A chill crept over me as I realized what sorts of establishments might have been destroyed in the secondary blast. Charm makers would naturally have salamander eggs for their work, and if one had hatched a salamander before the explosion, it could easily have gotten loose.

  This was the busiest intersection in The Feathers. A very commercial area. There were more charm makers per square foot in this vicinity than in the rest of the city. Who knew how many salamanders I could be dealing with? Not to mention what else. Every city had its imp issues and dragons in the sewers, but we could be talking sprites slipping into the city water supply or half-finished charms and curses seeping into the ground.

  And miniature trolls.

  My head snapped to the right as the flash of brown reappeared. Damn. So that’s what that brown shadow I’d seen was—a building-chewing, two-footed termite.

  The mini troll popped its knobby head out from the rubble. It was only about four inches tall, full grown. Its beady black eyes scoured the area, its jaw working furiously as it chewed on a section of the blown-out window frame.

  Some cultures considered mini trolls delicacies, and many spells used them in various ways. Hell, some people kept mini trolls as pets. While they were certainly cuter than their regular-sized counterparts, they could be every bit as damaging. There was a reason most municipalities banned them for noncommercial keeping. A single mini troll on the loose could chew through a house’s wood frame in a couple weeks.

  Most reports put their intelligence somewhere on par with dragons—well above most magical creatures—and I swore this one kept its gaze fixed on me, as if it knew I was contemplating how to catch it. Unlike a salamander, I had a chance. Assuming, that was, I could grasp its tiny body before it attempted to bite me with its impressive teeth.

  A disturbingly loud rumble ensnared my attention while I contemplated the troll. At first I thought it was more of the ubiquitous thunder I’d been hearing for the past week, but my ears sorted it out. It had come from the direction of the salamander smoke. More raised voices emanated from that direction too. My pulse quickened. A building had collapsed. From the fire? Was the smoke getting thicker?

  I tapped Steph on the arm. “Help me.”

  “Catch a salamander? Are you kidding me?”

  “Catch a troll. Come on.” I snatched an empty plastic shopping bag that littered the street.

  Steph coughed, saving me the trouble of pointing out that smoking when the air was already plenty full of toxic dust might not be the best idea. “What do you need me to do?”

  I picked up a piece of attractive wood that I suspected had once belonged to some sort of musical instrument. “You hold this out to it with one hand, and when it gets close, you throw the bag over it. But watch out for its teeth. Hold it by the body and tempt it with the wood. It’ll calm down.”

  “I know how to care for trolls.” Warily, she crushed her cigarette and took the wood and bag from me. “My grandparents had one when we were kids. But why aren’t you helping?”

  “Because I’m going after the salamander.”

  “I thought you didn’t have supplies for that?”

  I tied my hair back. “I don’t, but any of these charm or supply shops should have some.”

  “The Gryphons are coming. Let them handle it.” Her fear registered more clearly to me than the general fear I sensed all around. It was a bright lemonade that made me crave a cool drink.

  “I am a Gryphon.” Whether I wanted to be or not. Just like I was a satyr. Both those designations came with certain responsibilities.

  Jaw set, I took one more scan of the area. The worst of the noise had died down. The yelling had muted to upset voices, and the crunch of concrete and plaster crumbling was less powerful. Car alarms still shrieked and unseen sirens blared, mixing with the thump of the helicopters. Fear and a touch of anger was heavy in the air along with the dust. But I couldn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity I could help. It didn’t mean there weren’t any, but my best chance for saving lives at this point was to go after the salamander. Catch it before it devoured too much.

  “Don’t spend too much time with the troll,” I added. “If you can catch it, great, but it’s not the biggest problem. Getting to the hospital is more important.”

  Assuming the salamander, and any of its brothers and sisters, was reined in before it got to the hospital.

  “I’m starting to become nostalgic for the days when you only hunted bad guys,” Steph said. “I trusted you could subdue those with your gift.”

  Me too. Life had been simpler then, or perhaps it had just seemed that way. I sure didn’t miss worrying about finding my share of the rent money or mourning my nonexistent love life. On the other hand, I’d gone from waitress to warrior a bit more quickly—and without as much preparation—as I’d like.

  I covered my mouth with my hoodie sleeve as I wove through the jungle of cars and rubble. The air had taken on a particularly sharp twang, the odor of sulfur mixed with burning plastic and untold other horrors. As I turned the corner, the press of people moving in the opposite direction thickened. A magi grabbed my arm, yelling “Salamander” at me as she fled.

  Yup, salamander, run away. What are you doing, Jess? This is no time to try proving to yourself that you can handle whatever the Gryphons need you to do.

  Aha. So that was why I was doing this. Nice of my survival instinct to kick in at last and inform me, but I paid it no mind and kept moving toward the smoke.

  I wasn’t far from the original explosion here, yet this street was mostly untouched except for the accidents. That, and the one wrecked building that was burning. No question this was the structure that had been hit in the secondary explosion, and most likely it was the one the salamander had escaped from. Its windows had been blown out on two stories, and the wood door and trim were heavily charred. Black and purple smoke poured from gaping openings.

  I glanced past the wreckage in the middle of the street and into the fronts of the surrounding buildings. Apartments. Cafes. A post office branch.

  Finally, a charm shop. That was what I needed. I dashed over, but the door was locked. A bell over it jingled as I tugged on the handle, and I swore. Backing up, I peered through the window, searching for whether it contained a net.

  I couldn’t be sure, but it did contain a magi. He waved me away frantically. I pointed at the burning building. In the distance, the sound of Gryphon sirens were a delight to my ears.

  “Get away! Shoo!” the magi yelled at me through the glass door.

  “There’s a salamander—”

  He held up a giant canister with a nozzle. Through the clear plastic, I could see sprites circling. “I’m aware. So get out.”

  You had to be kidding me. This guy had what I needed, and he was hoarding it. “Can I borrow that?”

  “Are you crazy? T
his is in case it gets close. Go away, and wait for the Gryphons.”

  “I am a Gryphon.”

  He drew his brown, feathery eyebrows together. “Oh. Badge?”

  Grunting in frustration, I pulled out my badge and pressed it against the door.

  The magi frowned at it. “This says you’re only a consultant. Wait, it also says Jessica Moore. You’re that woman Xander was talking about. Go away! The real Gryphons are coming. I hear the sirens.”

  “Oh, for the love of…” I was so furious I actually stamped my foot. The sirens continued to wail, but they didn’t seem to be getting any closer. There were no charms to magically part cars in the case of traffic jams, after all.

  Wetting my lips, I searched the street for another charm or supply shop, but the burning building was probably the only other one in the immediate area. Figured.

  I was running out of options. I could be sensible and wait for the Gryphons to arrive with their sprite-water and nets, or I could be stupid and try to staunch the damage. The smoke was increasing and the temperature rising. Already, the purple flames had spread to nearby buildings.

  I spun around at the sound of a door opening behind me. The magi tossed a charmed net at my head and slammed his door once more.

  Grimacing, I pulled it off my face. “Thanks!” Jerk.

  I wrapped my fingers around the silky fine fabric, feeling foolish. It was one thing to be reckless and charge into danger when I had an excuse to back out. Now, I was armed. The only thing to do was go forward and hope I didn’t turn into crispy-fried Jessica while I played the hero.

  I’ll just take a quick check inside the shop, I told myself. If I can’t see anything, I’ll scamper along with everyone else. Maybe I’d run into the salamander on my way back to Steph.

  Before I could change my mind and do something sensible, my feet carried me across the street. Most of the smoke was streaming from the upper stories, but it was the ground floor that was ablaze. Going inside would be suicide if I could do it. The heat was scorching. Flames licked across every surface, burning in an array of colors that suggested they’d found interesting tidbits to devour. Even the air smelled hot—a deep, disturbing scent that singed my nose. Probably it was some kind of chemical or charm ingredient burning.