Drift: The Renegades Saga: Book Two

by E. M. Whittaker

  “I want Aviere safe, and I’m not sure what Sanderson’s planning. It’s tough to gauge Lowell’s motives. I’m sure you understand. After all, you got that magical mind-reading bullshit.”

  “Magical bullshit, huh?” Limere jammed the box mod vaporizer into his pocket as he waved the short Italian bouncer over. “I suppose I understand.”

  When Marco stood in front of Limere, the mage lowered his voice.

  “Bring Celene out here. I don’t need her drunk on our anniversary. Remind her if she’s plastered, she won’t get to go shopping tomorrow.”

  The bald suited Italian grunted, snorted, and then strode inside the sports bar.

  “Limere, you understand Aviere’s safety comes before your own.”

  The mage waited until Marco disappeared before darkness seeped into his ice-blue eyes. Fist clenched, he glowered at his stepfather. “You’re always good about screwing everybody else to get your way. I’m sure agent man appreciates it, too. Maybe that’s where Agent Neuro learned his attitude from.”

  “If you’re referring to Peters, no. He’s a special case.”

  “You’re right. You’d never shoot a woman.” The sound of clomping heels forced Limere to face the busty Latina exiting the Tethered Mistress. “May want to meet with those paramedics and the coroner, Pop. The agent won’t learn shit if I’m lingering with you.”

  He draped an arm around Celene’s shoulder and escorted her toward the Camry, straightening his posture the quicker he power walked. While walking, Celene’s tender hand slid into his jean pocket and reclaimed the box mod.

  The lower her fingers moved, the harder walking became.

  Limere grabbed her wrist and shook his head. “No. Not right now, woman.”

  “Just wanted my vape mod,” she said, clicking her tongue. “You used a good bit.”

  “I’m heading home. Take the Camry… I’ll call you after I settle down.”

  “You’re phasing here?!”

  “The cop’s aware. It’s Sis’s father, and I can’t smoke up here.” He kissed her forehead and grinned when she growled. “Cel, I’ll call, but I need to meet with Reese. Roland confirmed Chelsea killed the victim inside the Mistress.”

  Before she asked questions, Limere waved, angling toward the bar as his body shimmered from view. As he departed, Limere contemplated Chelsea’s activities and shuddered when the temptress cackled inside his head.

  When he appeared outside his apartment, the mage hesitated as he grabbed the frigid, metal doorknob.

  After a gulp and more cackling, Limere turned the knob, venturing one foot bravely toward the hallway.

  Baked chicken, steamed broccoli, and creamy cheese wafted from the kitchen when Limere opened the apartment door.

  The savory aroma awoke his empty stomach as saliva flooded his parched mouth. The sour strawberry vapor tasted putrid compared to the home-cooked meal several rooms away. He measured his last meal and Limere blinked, gasping at the seven-hour difference between lunch and dinner.

  Smells marvelous… better than McDonald’s burgers and Wendy’s gloopy cheese fries. One more night of greasy hamburgers and—shit!

  The mage steadied himself after grabbing onto a leather couch, cursing the dirty Swifter underneath his scruffy tennis shoe. After catching his breath, Limere noticed the polished slip covers on top of the neat, coffee-colored leather couches and sparkling glass end tables.

  Maurice, you’ve got to be the only straight man with impeccable tastes Sis approves of. If she decorated, it’d look like a disco ball mixed with flower power.

  The overpowering aroma triggered Limere to reach for his back pocket, and he licked his lips at the notion of cheap string cheese and grape Pop-Tarts. Two fingers hooked in his back pocket, resting on the silver cigarette holder where he hid his joints.

  Before Limere retrieved it, he heard Maurice humming in the kitchen and growled, clutching his jean pocket.

  Jesus, Reese. I need a smoke and your cooking is making me hungry.

  A loud gurgle accompanied Limere’s thought.

  I can’t hold off taking my medication, but that food—

  ~No human concoction will make you control your powers, quit your mind-altering headaches, or thwart me, Limere.~

  Sinister cackling echoed as Maurice emerged, donning a frilly black apron over his light blue polo and stained khakis. He collected his long dreads and pulled them back before drinking the bottled water on the mahogany table. “Thought I heard someone. Dinner should be ready soon if the oven stays on.”

  “Another broken appliance?”

  The mocha-colored male grimaced. “What do you expect, Lim? The place stayed deserted for six years. Least the landlord’s not makin’ us pay for it. Anyway, I got veggie soup in a crockpot for baby girl, but panthers ain’t supposed to be vegan.”

  “Thank god.” Limere plopped on the three-seater couch, remembering the syringe in his other back pocket. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Eh.” Maurice turned to the kitchen. “Chicken should be good cookin’ while we’re talkin’.” The fashion designer discarded the bright flowery oven mitt and the black apron before setting them next to his bottled water. “What’s up?”

  “Sis is back at work.”

  “And?”

  “Promise you won’t freak out on me.” Limere produced the syringe in the Ziploc bag, sighing at Maurice’s disbelieving stare. “Look, before you start—”

  “I don’t fuckin’ believe this,” Maurice muttered. “You bought heroin again! And just when—”

  “Sis and Armandi called me!” Limere exclaimed, tossing the baggie on the table. The shaking liquid sent goosebumps through his body as his pulse raced. “Celene and I were celebrating our anniversary tonight when I got a call about her assignment!”

  “So much for a family dinner,” Maurice hissed, shaking the large dining room table beside the swinging kitchen doorway. “And I prepared chicken cordon bleu, too.”

  Why do I bother? Limere let out a tight breath. Same shit, different day. I swear to God.

  “Reese, Sis ran into Chelsea and her dad at the Tethered Mistress. Then I ran into Roland, who asked me to help train his rogue mage and help Sis with the Zodiac Cartel.”

  Maurice’s eyebrows pushed together as he sat next to Limere and smoothed out his wrinkled pants. His gray orbs flickered between bewilderment and resentment. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

  “Pop promised to erase the drug trafficking charges.” Limere pulled out the letter and passed it to Maurice, studying his dubious expression. The younger man kept tilting his head as he read, tsking under his breath.

  “Bastard kept his word.”

  “Surprised me, too.” Limere pressed his back against the couch, groaning when his joints cracked. “But we’re tight on money. Chelsea’s been stalking me the last two weeks about joining the cartel again.”

  The letter crinkled in Maurice’s wide hands and Limere swore the vein in his brother’s neck thickened. “So what?” He swallowed, choking on his words. “You won’t get another chance like this.”

  Limere threw his dirty baseball cap on the table before scratching his itchy scalp through his unruly hair. “What’s the point if everyone’s still accusing me? I made decent money running the Zodiac Cartel. More than the family business, which—”

  “Limere, you’re practically done with probation.” Maurice slammed the crinkled letter down near his baseball cap and Limere jumped in surprise. “I took care of baby girl for five and a half years while you were servin’. I know you went through a rough time when your mom died and your stepdad left, but you’ve had a black mark since you sold crack to undercover cops.”

  You can’t cast magic on Reese, no matter how scathing his words, Lim.

  For the second time that night, Limere’s jagged fingernails dug into his palms until they hurt, and he shot Maurice a nasty glare. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  Maurice sniffed the air and wiped his eye. “Even i
f baby girl’s daddy pissed me off hidin’ behind the law, he’s doin’ you a favor. You could go back to college and finish your degree or somethin’. But your magic—there’s the underlyin’ issue.”

  “Don’t ask me,” Limere warned, dropping his raspy voice. “I’m not ready to discuss—”

  “One day, I want to know how you got it. But if you have trouble maintainin’ it, how are you goin’ to teach the trigger-happy agent?”

  “No idea.” Limere rested his head on his chest as shooting pain throbbed behind his eyes. Sultry laughter reverberated inside Limere’s mind and he shielded his eyes with his hat. “Pop said the rent-a-agent’s magic is akin to mine. But agent man chased Karyn for information about the cartel.”

  “Travis,” Maurice supplied. “And I can handle takin’ care of Karyn.”

  “Cool.”

  “However, even though Travis’s powers resemble yours, they vary.” A digital watch on Maurice’s wrist beeped, but the man remained beside Limere. “That’s goin’ to set you in a tizzy, considerin’ more magic equals hardcore drugs.”

  Self-restraint, Lim, the mage reminded himself as he grabbed his back pocket. Don’t ruin the moment.

  “Stop pressing. I said not now, Reese.”

  Painful memories weighed him down and Limere hugged himself. Throaty, remorseful whispers crooned regret and dissension before fading away. Limere wished he could probe Maurice’s mind instead of relying on mixed signals from his body language and imploring gaze.

  There’s a fine line between probing your loved ones, but Sis and Reese wear talismans to ward away my magic. Damn it.

  He sensed a familiar energy flux and heard keys jingling, Limere smiled. Then it faded, recalling Maurice’s mood.

  “Fine.” Maurice’s voice hardened. “But Aviere’s home. You goin’ to tell her?”

  “Tomorrow… once my headache subsides.”

  The front door creaked, stopping Maurice’s retort. The keys continued jingling as Aviere entered and both brothers caught her tormented expression. When his sister stopped, Limere banged a fist against his thigh.

  Thanks, Sis, Limere berated, inhaling when Aviere hid her face with her stringy hair. Way to have faith in your older brother.

  Her pale skin lightened even more as Limere spotted Aviere’s shaky finger pointing to the syringe on the table. “After I defended you, Da—”

  “Sis, Chelsea—I wasn’t with her!” Sweaty hands clung to his jeans as Limere trembled. “You know you wrecked my anniversary with this shit!”

  Flat cerulean eyes peered at him. “I’m sorry, but it’s hard to trust you when—”

  “Baby girl, your daddy ran into Lim and Celene.” Maurice slapped Limere’s shoulder. “For once, he ain’t usin’—though he’s edgin’ on it, with the day he’s had.”

  “And how do we know Lim’s telling the truth, Reese?” Aviere demanded, locking her legs in place while lowering her glasses. “He’s lied to us before.”

  Limere held the side of his head. “You’re right. I have. However, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I shot up, Aviere. You know that. But believe what you want.”

  The mage shocked himself with his harsh tone as Aviere’s agile fingers seized her oversized peridot. “I suppose. There’s still liquid inside the syringe.”

  ~You might as well inject when you leave,~ the temptress suggested. ~Why make a liar of them? No one understands you anyway. Besides, you’re more powerful hyped up, boy. We could hit town and—~

  “It’s not enough that I attend twelve-step meetings or therapy twice a week.” Limere grabbed the ornate silver box as he fought against heart palpitations. “What’s the family counseling for if you’re demonizing me every chance you get? I haven’t broken parole—”

  “You smoke marijuana,” she interrupted. “Da’s been covering when you fail the urinalysis. Guess he feels guilty about abandoning me.”

  The lanky man gritted his teeth. “Other than that, I’ve been clean. I’m working again and I helped you catch Vinny McSeeten when he framed you for murder.”

  Aviere smiled, resting her chin on her hands gripping the necklace. “Yes. You did.”

  “Then what more do you want, Aviere?” Limere whispered. “It’s not like the impulse goes away. It always lingers, like pining for an ex you broke up with or—” He covered his mouth when he realized his comparison and Aviere’s eyes glistened. “Sorry.”

  A gloved finger pointed to the silver box Limere held before taking his hands. “Give up the weed.”

  Her delicate touch and soft-spoken voice interrupted Limere’s defensive thoughts. Holding the container, Limere took one gloved hand and brought it to his heart. “I’ll try.”

  “Reese is right, Lim,” Aviere continued, embracing him. “You need to tell us how you obtained your magic.”

  Limere wanted to object but couldn’t when he felt her soothing heartbeat against his ear. Time stopped at the gesture, reminding him of their younger days. For a fleeting moment, he found Maurice’s eyes and caught his shy smile, accompanied by a cautious nod seconds later.

  “All right. Once things settle down, I’ll explain. But it’s a long story, mind you.”

  Leather-gloved fingers ruffled Limere’s unruly hair. “Good. Get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Limere let her go and hurried down the hallway to his room, ignoring his family’s hushed voices. Once inside, he locked the door, leaned against it and retrieved a vial with transparent liquid inside. After shaking the contents, dizziness washed over him as he slumped to the floor, panting and sweating from his latest episode.

  He almost neglected to inject the vial in his arm until stars twinkled before him and throaty laughter crescendoed in his head.

  As the serum worked throughout his bloodstream, Limere rocked back and forth against the door, cradling his head in his sweaty, clammy hands. He gnawed his lip and stifled the sobs from his migraine and withdrawal. Copper tainted his mouth, but he swallowed it, keeping quiet.

  It’s only a matter of time before the demon fully possesses me. Even now, the serum’s losing its effectiveness. It’s been ten years, but I’ll continue to fight, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against me.

  Somehow, Limere fought through the excruciating agony and crawled to his twin bed. As he lay down, he huddled in the fetal position with his Iron Man blanket, clenched his teeth, and shivered. The last thing he remembered was Aviere’s reassuring touch and Maurice’s quiet smile when Limere comforted her.

  However, the temptress’s vile words berated him in his pain-induced fog, subsiding once the serum knocked him unconsciousness.

  Chapter Five

  This infernal earpiece isn’t ideal for a kitty like me.

  The Poisoner winced when various noises penetrated her right ear, inducing a small episode of vertigo when her ear popped. She readjusted the volume and groaned when another cat meowed in the background, followed by hissing from Peters’s scolding. A coffee machine made whooshing noises before a loud beep rang out, signaling the end of brewing.

  I’ve only worn an earpiece for twenty minutes and I’ve already considered four ways to torture Agent Neuro. Can’t he mute for fifteen minutes while I adjust my hearing?

  Aviere clenched the plastic blue handle to her seat on the bus, sighing as Peters’s nasally voice aired his grievances. For the first few minutes, Aviere used it as a pleasant distraction, deterring her from her suspicions the night before. As time passed, she locked her jaw and ground her teeth.

  I’d do the human race a favor strangling Neuro, but Travis would intervene. Christ, I don’t know how he handles Peters. Nails on a chalkboard… perfect analogy every time Neuro talks.

  She lurched forward when the bus jerked, halting at her destination. Aviere covered her mouth and left the bus, cursing humans who invested in cheap shampoo. The harsh chemicals lingered, and she gulped, praying her breakfast didn’t land on the concrete. Then she fixed her purse before nibbling on her lip at another argume
nt between Travis and Peters.

  Christ, Sanderson is vindictive—making me come back on a Friday morning.

  “Gentlemen, please,” Aviere said, keeping her voice low. “Don’t you two ever stop bitching?”

  The sound of a rolled paper smacked against a flat surface. “I have a name, Mye.”

  Aviere smiled. “So do I, but no one uses it. Take my suggestion as an incentive, Agent Neuro.”

  “Goddammit, quit calling me that!” Peters’s voice cracked the higher he yelled. “And where are you? You’re late and we’re meeting Sanderson in five minutes!”

  She removed the earpiece, blinking in surprise at his fluctuating tone. “You sound like a girl when you’re irritated, Peters. Ruins my image of a cat clawing a chalkboard.”

  Aviere snickered when various objects shattered on his end. She skipped down the street and laughed at his blabbering threats. Travis’s voice sounded soft as he admonished Aviere, but she ignored the agent until he sipped on his beverage.

  Loud slurping made her shudder and Aviere almost crushed the earpiece at the high-pitched noise.

  Let the agents go, Vi. Have your earpiece tweaked for sound sensitivity when you see Neuro next time.

  When she rounded the corner, Aviere stopped and paled, gasping at the shattered remnants of broken glass and splintered wood lying at the front door to her shop. A nail almost passed through the thick sole of her boot, but she stopped, glaring at the offending object.

  For six weeks, life seemed normal. Welcome back to work, Vi.

  “Shit,” Aviere whispered, sniffing around for intruders. “I hope they didn’t steal the fucking vials Da gave me.”

  “What are you on about, Mye?” Peters complained.

  She detected a skunky scent and massaged her throat at Limere’s familiar presence. However, another smell made the Poisoner gag: one of putrid flesh tinted with copper and bile.

  The tiny sound and queasiness in her stomach stopped Travis from another slurp of coffee.

  “Jesus,” Travis groaned. “I can’t even drink my coffee without you getting into trouble.”