Magic Resistant

by Veronica Del Rosa

  When he glanced at Julia, he no longer saw her soft brown eyes, or her upswept multi-hued brown hair. Instead, murky grey eyes stared back at him, framed by dirty blond hair. He found himself unable to examine her for too long, his eyes wandering away. Then, he couldn’t remember how she appeared, her image a slight blur in his mind.

  He smiled knowing the spell worked perfectly.

  Gavin was also out of focus to him. He had the full beard, but tame, less wild-man and more cultured. No longer appearing emaciated, instead he was a shade on the skinny side. Markus threw him an Enforcers uniform - a plain black long sleeve shirt and black cargo pants - and told him to put it on. He gave another uniform to Julia.

  Where exactly he had them hidden, Jackson wasn’t sure. He didn’t have them in his hands a few moments ago. He shrugged away the thought. Wasn’t much sense in trying to figure it out. Markus liked being mysterious.

  They both put the uniforms on over their clothes. Getting arrested for indecency, not on the agenda for the day. Julia’s tank top and shorts disappeared under the outer layer. Gavin’s baggy t-shirt and jeans didn’t hide as nicely. His uniform bulged and wrinkled in odd places, but with the illusion on, it was hard to remember why the uniform wasn’t up to code. Jackson shook his head, reminding himself to focus on the task at hand.

  No one would pay attention to the guards with him front and center. No one would care about anything except finally bringing a fugitive Enforcer to justice.

  He stood quietly as Markus put on the handcuffs and finger-cuffs. He balked at the mouth gag though, hated being so damn helpless. “Do we really need the mouth gag now? Can’t you put it on me when we’re closer to HQ? What if we run into any trouble?”

  When Markus raised a silent eyebrow at him, Jackson sighed, “Yes, yes. You’d be able to take on anything that got in our way. Doesn’t solve my issue of not wanting the damn mouth gag. Can’t you cast another illusion to make it seem like it’s there? Damn it, don’t look at me like that, it’s not a stupid question. It’s less energy than the illusions on the other two. It won’t set off the alarms. You’re still looking at me like I’m dumb. Stop it.”

  Jackson glared at him, wondering what could be wrong with a fake mouth gag.

  The others wouldn’t realize it was missing. Markus crafted superb, distinct illusions no one else could imitate. Ah shit, and therein lay the problem. If anyone checked for spells on him and found Markus’ signature energy, they would wonder why he was helping a fugitive. And if they dispelled him and found he didn’t have a mouth gag...

  The Enforcers might attack, taking down whoever they perceived as a threat. Julia would defend him, placing her career in jeopardy. Gavin, well, he wouldn’t survive a true spell battle.

  “Alright, fine, put the damn thing on me.” He caved, oh-so-graciously.

  He muttered to himself about know-it-all Enforcers, the gag making his words indecipherable. Which, really, was a good thing. No sense in pissing off one of the few people willing to help him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  USING MARKUS’ INTIMATE knowledge of the Coterie building, they walked through an alleyway nearby. Gavin, not being an actual vampire, would arouse suspicion if seen in direct sunlight for a long walk. If anyone asked, they’d claim Markus teleported them to the alley. Young vampires couldn't handle even short exposures in the sun while the older ones tolerated it to varying degrees. People would assume Gavin was an older vampire, a powerful one who didn’t smoke and burn immediately. Certainly it added more credence to his position in Markus’ entourage.

  Entering Headquarters was tougher than Jackson imagined, especially with his hands shackled behind his back and a custom made gag in his mouth. Mages were too dangerous to bring in with just handcuffs and no one would believe his arrest without properly restraints.

  His ring with Xerix bound to it rested on his finger, overlooked as unimportant. The solid weight steadied him. Perhaps an escape using his favourite imp? His mind worked at the puzzle, twisting the pieces, finding a favourable outcome.

  He saw several of his colleagues and peers as he walked down the main hallway towards the elevators. A mixture of pitying looks mingled with open hostility. Thankfully, no one spared a second glance at Julia or Gavin. With Gavin sensing as a vampire, no one would think twice about it, especially with a high profile capture like Jackson.

  The thin magical disguise on both Julia and Gavin worked as intended, the magic too weak to set off the alarms. With so many spells continually running, it would be pointless for the wards to go off each time it detected faint spell energy. Tuned to a specific set of spells, the rest were ignored as harmless.

  The building austere and plain, no grand appearance in the main lobby. A drab, functional, government building. The Coterie felt no need to make a statement to the visitors, no need to impress them with lavish displays. Instead they kept the lobby bare of paintings, plant life or any other reason to linger. Hard, uncomfortable chairs lined the wall near the front desk. A bank of elevators stood to the side, protected by four security guards: a mage, a werewolf, a vampire and a human. They represented the unity of the Coterie.

  Under normal circumstances, only the receptionist (a vampire) and the guards occupied this area. And any unfortunate people waiting for an audience with the Coterie. Today, however, Mage Enforcers crammed into the lobby. Word got around they’d captured him. At that moment, gratitude for Markus’ presence crept into him. He’d faced down aggressive demons, ones determined to stay on Earth, without a flicker of worry.

  Here, however, hurting a colleague, a friend, was a distinct outcome. Without Markus, they would’ve swarmed him, taking the justice they demanded. Hostility swirled thick in the air. Even with the rigorous training they underwent, certain situations caused them to forget protocol.

  A traitor was one of them.

  Pounded into them, ingrained in their psyche, was the immutable fact: Enforcers equaled family. They protected one another and had a duty to defend the civilian population from rogues. Traitors were the lowest form of life and dealt with swiftly. Jackson having escaped “justice” for so long was an insult to everything they held dear. He understood their animosity, even though unfounded.

  Markus’ presence forced them to behave. As the head investigator, this was his arrest. To interfere would show absolute disrespect to him as a mage and as an Enforcer. Plus, Jackson was damn sure many didn’t want to tangle with Markus. There were reasons why he was one of the top Enforcers. His mage powers one of them, his explosive temper another. Scary son of a bitch didn’t begin to describe him.

  The only one who looked bored was the vampire receptionist. Then again, most immortals found the affairs of mortals boring. With such a shorter lifespan, Jackson figured his kind just didn’t interest them. Vampires probably felt their insignificant lives had scant impact in the grand scheme.

  Jackson wasn’t sure if he was happy or insulted he mattered so little to at least one person in the crowd. He vaguely shook his head, deriding himself. He had more important things to worry about, liking surviving the next few hours.

  Markus cleared a path through the antagonistic and curious crowd. Each person fell back as soon as Markus neared them and stayed out of the way as the rest of the progression approached the elevators. Julia and Gavin flanked Jackson on either side.

  Pressing a thumb to the keypad, Markus released a tiny charge of magical energy into it. Each mage had a unique signature to their energy and impossible to fake. It also ensured no one could, say, steal a thumb and force their way into Headquarters. Honestly, anyone stupid enough to try wouldn’t live long to regret it.

  The elevator binged and the doors opened. Markus waited to the side as Jackson, Julia and Gavin stepped inside the metal box. He followed them in and pressed the button for the penthouse. Jackson watched the crowd as the doors slid shut, not a single friendly face among them. A shame this wouldn't clear his name. He wouldn’t get out of this building alive without a fig
ht. His old colleagues would see to that. Asking for mercy seemed a pointless endeavour.

  The penthouse took up half of the top floor with the other half sectioned into offices for the Coterie; the windows shuttered in deference to the vampires present. Burning some of the Coterie leaders and reducing their Elites to ash due to poor planning would’ve been bad form.

  Three massive couches formed an open rectangle in the center of the room. The middle one, a vivid red, faced the main wall. The two couches facing each other a glossy black. A giant black marble coffee table sat in the center of the couches within easy reaching distance. End tables scattered throughout the room in varying sizes and colours ranging from black to light brown to teak. A huge television screen covered half of the main wall and the small entertainment system below contained a desktop computer hooked up to the TV.

  The Fae sat; a power play on their part. While the others stood to gain an upper hand on the other Coterie leaders, the Fae showed how little they regarded the others.

  Elite Enforcers lined the walls, four factions represented. The Demon and Fae Coterie were allowed personal bodyguards and nothing else. Earth wasn’t their home and therefore they had no security presence. Any would be a show of hostility and met with force.

  Jackson scanned the room, noting the blank stares from the Werewolf, Human and Vampire Elites. The Mage Elites were another story. Hostility simmered behind each empty mask, hard for an outsider to pick up but easy for Jackson to notice. These pissed off men and women would gladly execute him. A single mage had any friendliness towards him – Victor. He kept it under a tight wrap. Outing himself as a traitor sympathizer wouldn’t help either one of them.

  Dragging his gaze away from them, he studied the Coterie, wondering if they all wanted his blood or just the Mages.

  Behind the red couch silently assessing him stood the Mage Coterie. Mara’s blonde hair, as usual, was a riot of curls, an untamable mass which gave her the appearance of a child’s doll. The hair suited her personality: wild and uncontrollable. Blunt and to the point, she rarely bothered to hide her opinions. It made him wonder how she became a mage Coterie leader. The position required a certain amount of politics and back scratching, which she seemed to ignore.

  Average height, around five foot two, he couldn’t recall ever seeing her with heels on. Most of the council towered over her but there was no mistaking her for helpless. The amount of magical energy she exuded enough of a warning for most. She was gorgeous in a wild, natural way. Her light, airy voice had entranced many a man.

  Roan, her counterpart, stood next to her, making Mara appear even smaller as he was closer to seven feet than six. Rumour had it, his ancestors were Vikings and he wasn’t so far removed from them. Jackson could well believe it. Short reddish blond hair and a massive beard reaching mid-chest lent credence to the Viking theory. Muscles rippled when he walked and if he’d had a broadsword in hand, it would’ve looked natural. His deep, booming voice commanded immediate attention whenever he spoke, and sighs of desire from women. Currently, he was silent and watchful making him even more dangerous.

  Oonis was in his customary form, a small statured Asian man, scarcely topping five feet. He positioned himself near the black couch on the left, somewhat apart from the rest of the group. Straight black hair pulled back into a tight braid. His dark brown eyes never stopped roaming over the room. Arms and legs loose and relaxed, giving the impression he was unconcerned about the others in the room.

  Having spent enough time around demons, Jackson knew Oonis played on people’s perceptions, expecting them to underestimate the amount of raw power he commanded. Many dismissed him as harmless, sometimes defenseless. A mistake few repeated. Jackson had heard battle stories about him, the cruelty and depravity he committed and reveled in. As most of those battles occurred between other demons, the Coterie ignored it. As long as he left the other races alone, what he did in his own plane of existence was his own business.

  Paige was a plump, middle age woman with iron grey hair. With a discreet show of alliance, she positioned herself between Roan and Felix. She had a pleasant smile and always a warm welcome for everyone.

  Jackson wasn’t fooled. He’d seen the steel in her bright blue eyes, heard the harsh command in her voice when needed. As a human, with a much shorter life span, her indoctrination began at a young age. She’d had much to learn if she expected to keep up with those who’d already lived several lifetimes.

  Hands resting on the red couch, Felix appeared to be roughly Paige’s age, also with dark grey hair though cut short and balding on top. His light brown skin had a faint leathery look, giving evidence to the amount of time he spent outdoors. Neither seemed bothered by the noticeable advancement of their years. Small, square glasses perched on the end of his nose, his deep brown eyes sharp as he assessed the room.

  Pacing behind the black couch to the right was Logan. He enjoyed playing up his big, bad wolf persona. A shaved head, a short goatee and a face full of piercings. His smile an evil, vile thing. Canines kept long, he enjoyed the squeamish reactions he received. However, it bothered no one in this room. They all had their own dark side. Jackson had several dealings with him previous and each time he felt scuzzy, like he’d walked through a sewer. If wererats actually existed, Logan would’ve been one of them instead of a werewolf.

  Aaron came from the same mold as Logan. His shaved head gleamed in the artificial light and piercings adorned his face. While smaller of the two, his body was heavily packed with muscles. Both of them had the aura of menace rolling from them. It took immense strength and ironclad discipline to rule as the Alpha, never mind as a Coterie leader. He figured the badass, don’t-fuck-with-me appearance helped scare off constant challenges.

  Aaron’s eyes glowed an eerie amber whenever light hit them a certain way. First time Jackson met him, it’d taken a few moments to realize why. His eyes stayed as a wolf’s. They didn’t revert to human eyes at all. Coupled with the sharp canines, he was pretty damn cruel looking. Only the strongest would want to tangle with a werewolf able to stay partially transformed.

  One of the true ancients, Augustus watched Rome prosper and then fall. The grapevine insisted he’d been around when they built the Great Pyramids, but no one knew for sure. And, as with all vampires, Augustus kept his mouth shut. The older the vampire, the more powerful, but it also meant a larger target painted on their backs. Different groups wanted to kill the ancients: humans fearing their power, other vampires wanting to destroy the vampire’s lineage, and drug dealers wanting the blood to sell.

  Just shy of six feet, his commanding presence made him appear taller. Jet black hair slicked back to play up his widow’s peak and his pale white skin gleaming against his hair. The lack of glowing red eyes a true disappointment. Instead, just an ordinary brown. A stereotype of a vampire, done on purpose. If the public believed all vampires resembled him, they’d be less likely to suspect their average neighbour.

  Leonora, standing with Augustus behind the left black couch, looked every inch the glamorous vampire. Another purposeful image cultivated to calm the hatred in the human men and instead incite their lust.

  No one would mistake her for one of the living. Her alabaster skin glimmered in the light and her deep red hair a fiery halo. Her lips a vivid crimson and would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. It suited her dramatic, 1950’s pin-up girl appearance just so long as he avoided any blood association. If not he’d wonder when and who her last meal had been. She took no breath as she watched the rest of the council and he had no idea what she was thinking. She gave nothing away, not even an involuntary twitch. Quite unnerving.

  Queen Tatiana and her handmaiden, Una, both had on heavy veils, concealing their faces from everyone. However, their tall, lithe bodies were almost bare and on display as they sprawled on the far right couch. Una had her hand resting on Tatiana’s thigh, absentmindedly caressing her skin. Tatiana toyed with Una’s hair, curling a lock around her finger.

  They we
ren’t hiding their faces due to deformity, both of them stunning to behold. It also wasn’t for a vow of chastity or purity as the Fae viewed sexual relationships differently than humans. They did it for control, wanting to off balance the other leaders. He had no idea if it worked though, the council well schooled in hiding their thoughts and reactions.

  Queen Mab and her handmaiden, Duessa, were the opposite of the Light Fay leaders. Both wore conservative clothes and glamours to tone down their otherworldliness. They sat primly on the left couch, hands folded neatly and ankles crossed. Jackson knew better.

  The Dark Fae could be a cruel and sadistic lot. Stories detailing their depravity whispered in the bright light of day. No one wanted to hear such stories in the dark, vulnerable to an overactive imagination.

  Taken prisoner by either the Light or Dark Fae meant years of torture and slavery. They had ways of cheating death, prolonging the suffering. Once a victim escaped from them, her mind broken, scars covering her body. The Enforcers tried to investigate, but found their way into Fay barred without special permission. The two queens claimed they would look into the matter themselves. They stated their realm, their laws and their punishment. Sixty years passed and still no answers. The case languished, pushed out of sight, but never forgotten.

  Disbelieving whispers escaped from the Elite Mage Enforcers in the room, on their lips an unexpected name.

  Julia.

  He glanced her way and, to his amazement, saw her magical disguise gone.

  Odd. It should've lasted for several hours.

  Slight embarrassment coloured her features, now center of attention. Hastily she wiped all expression from her face, stared straight ahead and ignored the murmurs.

  However, Elite Enforcers were a tenacious bunch, determined for answers no matter the cost. Several of them started to move forward, wanting to verify it truly was their missing colleague. Markus stopped them cold as his voice cut through the rumblings.