Magical Secrets (Vegas Paranormal/Club 66 Book 1)

by C. C. Mahon

  “You made me think you were Nate’s friend,” I said.

  “What?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know her!”

  “You pretended to be a seer,” I added, “and that you weren’t able to lie…”

  She shrugged. “I lied about not being able to lie. As for the rest…I wasn’t born a seer, but I became one. I don’t have full control over my gift yet.”

  “When you had to kill to steal it, you can’t call it a gift,” spat Barbie.

  “Admittedly.”

  “Who did you kill to steal that power?” I asked.

  “A girl in Chicago.”

  “Did Callum show you how to do it?”

  “We call him Dimitri. But yes, he’s the one who perfected the ritual.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” interjected Nate.

  She shuffled from one hoof to the other, as if she were hesitating to run off again, shrugged slightly, and said, “We were a group passionate about magic. One of us had discovered an ancient witch’s ritual that allowed her to share her magical powers. We were hoping to use it to acquire supernatural powers, like the metamorphs for example. When Dimitri found us, we had been trying for years, to no avail. Dimitri understood that to take magic by force we needed an outside energy input. We had to pull directly from a ley line. That’s what we did, near Chicago. The first ones to try wanted to become metamorphs. We had discovered a pack of meta-wolves. As we continued with the transfers…”

  “The murders,” said Barbie.

  “Yes, that. As we continued, the members of the group could use their new powers to kidnap the next victims.”

  “Why come to Vegas?” I asked.

  “Dimitri ordered it. He said he wanted a phoenix, but I know the truth.” She shot me a nasty look.

  “You’re really in love with him?” I asked, incredulous. “He’s a monster.”

  “I find his transformation magnificent.”

  “I’m not talking about his new look, but his mind. He’s a sadist, a pervert, a soulless manipulator…”

  She straightened up, raised her chin. “With my powers, I see exactly what he is. And I know he’s the perfect man for me.”

  “In that case, he’s yours!”

  “Your opinion doesn’t matter,” she spat. “The only thing that matters is what Dimitri wants. And as long as he’s obsessed with you…” She brought her right hand back in front of her; she was holding a revolver, aimed directly at me.

  No one had time to react. The bullets flew from the barrel of the gun, the sound of the shots blew out our eardrums, and I saw the three projectiles heading straight for me.

  Time slowed down, as if it was stuck in molasses.

  I pushed Barb out of the way of the bullets, dodged and jumped onto Enola. I took her weapon and placed my sword against her throat.

  Time sped back up. Enola let out a surprised hiccup.

  “So, ‘seer,’” I said. “You didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

  “Boss,” said Barbie, “end her so we can go get something to eat.”

  “I think I agree,” said Nate. “I don’t like the idea of murder, but this woman is crazy and dangerous.”

  “If you had killed me,” I asked Enola, “what would you have told Dimitri?”

  “Nothing,” she breathed. “He would have found out about your death one way or another. I wouldn’t have said anything. And I would have prayed, every day, that he never discovered my involvement in it.”

  “Here’s what we’re gonna do: you’re going back to your one and only—or not. As long as I never see you again, I don’t really give a shit about your love life. But if you try to hurt me again—me or my friends—not only will I let Barb gouge your eyes out, but after that, I will go to Callum and tell him everything. We’ll see if he appreciates your endeavors. After that, you’ll wish I’d slit your throat today. Understood?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  It was a small word full of hate and resentment, but it was enough. I let her go.

  39

  I MOVED INTO the club’s kitchen to make us a gargantuan omelet. Nate turned on the TV. The news channels were wholeheartedly reporting on the “Strip explosion”. They brought up terrorists of all colors, nationalities, and creeds, from white supremacists to ISIS. Other analysts leaned towards mafias settling scores or insurance fraud.

  The intercom’s buzzer rang, and I turned on the small screen that let me see the visitor.

  “Britannicus?” asked Nate.

  “Dale,” I said.

  Nate frowned. “The cop? What does he want now?”

  “That guy is as much a cop as I am a bartender,” I said. “And we’re going to ask him. Go up and get him, would you? I’m tired of hitting my wings against door frames.”

  “About that,” said Barbie, “if we could make them a little bigger, I wouldn’t be against that. And you’re going to have to hire another bartender soon, because, speaking from experience, your counter wasn’t made for winged creatures.”

  When Nate came back with Dale, my bouncer seemed…rattled.

  “Inspector,” I said. “Detective…? What should I call you?”

  He turned towards Barbie, who had hidden her wings under her usual glamor, and tilted his head. “Harpy,” he said as way of greeting.

  He turned towards Nate and said, “Berserker…”

  Then came my turn. “Valkyrie.”

  I took in his appearance: that of an older man, with a good head of silvery hair around a wrinkled face, that scar across one eye, and the smile of someone who knew more than me.

  “Oliver Dale,” I said. “O. Dale, on your business card. You couldn’t find something more obvious…Odin?”

  His smile widened. I continued.

  “It took me some time to understand, because I refused to believe you existed, and even more to accept that you could be interested in me. I might as well tell you right off the bat: this whole ‘Odin’s maiden’ thing isn’t for me. Being part of a harem of murderous psychopaths does not appeal to me, at all. You can take the wings back.”

  “And the sword?” he asked in a soft voice.

  “And the sword,” I said through clenched teeth. “I escaped the domination of one man. That wasn’t so I could submit to a god.”

  He nodded slowly.

  “Can we talk?” he suggested, gesturing towards a table. “Maybe over some coffee?”

  I looked over at the espresso machine, trapped on the other side of the counter.

  “I’ll take care of it,” said Nate. “Since I’m the only one who can get behind the bar.”

  I sat across from Dal…Odin. I sat down, in my chair, in my club, in front of a Nordic god. Nate served us bad coffee and joined Barbie, who was leaning back against the counter and keeping a stern eye on us.

  “I never asked to be a Valkyrie,” I said.

  “Oh, but you did. The first time you looked at the sword, it asked you the question. You just answered it in a brilliant way.”

  I grimaced as I thought back to the fiasco in the crystal cave.

  “Callum took off, the crystals exploded. A block of Vegas was destroyed, one of the busiest neighborhoods of the city is in shock, and I don’t know how many victims there are,” I said. “Not to mention the leak of raw magic that’ll last God knows how long.”

  “That’s exactly why I need a Valkyrie on the ground. The months to come are going to be…difficult for the people of Las Vegas.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Pick up the dead? That’s what Valkyries do, isn’t it?”

  “They—normally—do what I ask. At the moment, I mostly need someone to protect the humans.”

  “Protect them from whom?”

  “Have you heard of the Go Players?”

  I shook my head, and Barbie interjected. “I heard about them,” she said. “Ancient and powerful supernaturals. I always thought it was a legend.”

  “Kind of like Odin?” the god asked with a smile.

  Barbie shrug
ged, and Odin turned back towards me.

  “The Go Players aren’t a legend. They’ve existed for a few millennia. They’re far from the oldest or the strongest. A far cry from gods… But they’ve somehow started to think of themselves that way. They evolve in their own world, use others like pawns, and play a cruel game for no other reason than to tally the points.”

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “They are, for lack of a better word, spoiled brats with too much power. But there’s one thing on which they agree with the rest of the supernatural community: magic must remain a secret. Humans must not discover it and certainly not access it.”

  “Where were they when Callum and his friends were stealing powers from Adam and others?”

  Odin gestured evasively.

  “And you,” I added, “while we’re at it? You’re a god. You could have, I don’t know, snapped your fingers and fixed everything.”

  “There was a time when I would have intervened directly, yes. Not anymore.”

  “Did you retire? Do you prefer chasing after drug dealers?”

  Odin straightened up on his seat. His face darkened, and his voice echoed like distant thunder. “Little girl, you don’t know what you’re talking about. At the time when I was still intervening, my power swept the humans by the thousands. My anger moved rivers and destroyed mountains.” Then the storm passed, and Odin became O. Dale, the old detective again. “It’s difficult,” he said in his human voice, “in these conditions, to keep the existence of magic a secret. At the time, I liked receiving the adoration of the people. I was younger, arrogant.”

  “You weren’t going for subtle…”

  “But it’s no longer time for those methods.”

  “So you want me to do…what exactly?”

  “The magical explosion and the leak it caused are undoubtedly going to attract the attention of the Go Players. Callum is still around with a group of his loyalists. They’re going to continue to drain the magic. The Players won’t be able to pass that up. They’ll hit, hard, and without worrying about collateral damage. I want you to help me protect the residents of Vegas, humans and supernaturals alike.”

  “Why me? I know nothing about peace keeping. If I hadn’t followed Callum through the crystals, we wouldn’t be here. And I didn’t even manage to stop him.”

  “Beginner’s mistake.”

  “Exactly. You should bring in more experienced Valkyries.”

  “Impossible.”

  I looked at him in silence, until he elaborated.

  “Las Vegas was built on the convergence of three ley lines. Even before the foundation of the city, powerful witches had founded an organization in charge of overseeing the balance of the ley lines.”

  “Customs?” I said.

  “Exactly. The possibility of an explosion of the ley lines has always informed Custom’s actions.”

  “Matteo spoke of a ‘magical Chernobyl,’” I said. “We’re not there.”

  “The balance is broken, and even I don’t know if the leak will stop by itself or if the whole system is going to blow up in our faces.”

  Ouch.

  “What will Customs do?”

  “They already did it. They just engaged the city’s magical blockade.”

  My exclamation mirrored Nate and Barbie’s reactions.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Nothing magical can get in or out of Vegas.”

  “Including Valkyries? Britannicus said they were from divine origin… And you’re a god. Can’t you force your way through?”

  “I could, if I didn’t care about exploding everything and seeing the magic from the ley lines pour out, raw and undefined, into the rest of the area.”

  “But in that case,” interjected Nate, “the Go Players can’t get into Vegas either.”

  “Some are already here,” answered Odin. “It’s a place that doesn’t lack charm for them: all this magic to fuel their ambitions and these illusions that humans create to hide their actions.”

  “So,” I said, “we’re stuck in Vegas, with a raw magic leak, one Callum who’s crazier than ever, and ancient supernaturals who’ll do anything to settle the score with him.”

  “And seven hundred thousand citizens, supernaturals and humans alike,” added Odin. “That’s why I decided to trust your sword and give you your Valkyrie wings.”

  40

  I HAD DECIDED not to open the club that night, but the supernaturals needed a place to gather, in peace, to talk about the events of the day. I finally gave in.

  Gertrude was the only one who could tend bar. Just as emotional as the rest of us, she broke a decent amount of glasses and a few bottles in her too strong hands. No one held that against her.

  I wasn’t ready to answer the inevitable questions about my wings and decided to hide them under a glamor. A few weeks earlier, my illusions wouldn’t last more than five minutes before leaving me exhausted. That night I managed to forget about the glamor.

  Max, Jenny, the rest of the coyotes, and the eight wolves arrived at the beginning of the night and claimed a big table in the back room.

  “I see your meeting was productive,” I said to Max. “But…did they tell you about their relationship with ‘Mister D’?”

  The coyote gave me a reassuring smile. “Come ask them yourself.”

  The metamorphs had moved tables in the back room to gather them in the center of the room. Coyotes and wolves were sitting side by side and seemed relaxed. Until I came in.

  “Erica has questions concerning your relationship with ‘Mister D,’” Max announced joyously.

  The wolves exchanged worried looks, then their leader spoke. “Why should we answer her? How is it her business?”

  Well, I thought. It was time to show these puppies who was the new sheriff in Vegas.

  I let my illusion fall away, revealing my Valkyrie wings. Then I unfolded them halfway, as a way to highlight their size. I unsheathed my sword that hadn’t left my side all day and let it catch fire happily. The smell of ozone took over the room.

  The metamorphs paled, wolves and coyotes alike. The young coyote I saved from the wolves opened his eyes wide. The leader of the wolves grimaced and brought his hand to the scar I had inflicted upon him, from his jaw to his shoulder. Good. They had understood who was the boss. We could talk calmly. I started again.

  “This Mister D murdered several members of the community—my community—and I think you helped him do it. As a courtesy to the pack of coyotes I’m offering you the chance to tell me your side of the story. Don’t forget that there’s a family of grieving dragons in the neighborhood, not to mention friends of Phoebe the phoenix, of Henry the spider, Kitty’s pack, the community of succubi…and the cops who are looking into Andrew Gardner’s death, the poor student who ended up in a casino parking lot.”

  The wolves’ leader deflated like a balloon. “Let’s start with that poor kid,” he said. “Gardner. We had nothing to do with his death. It’s Mister D who had him murdered, to implicate us.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “To punish us,” interjected the lead female wolf. “Because we disobeyed his orders.”

  “So you do work for him. Were you part of that sect of wannabe supernaturals in Chicago?”

  The wolves’ leader nodded. “We were the first eight members to get powers. More specifically the first eight for whom it worked. Mister D sent us here as scouts. Our instructions were to blend in and find supernaturals. Once D and the others joined us, we would start kidnapping them.”

  “But?”

  He shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “We didn’t understand to what degree the magic would change our behaviors. When we discovered the existence of the coyote pack, we couldn’t resist: we challenged them. Mister D had promised us that the city would be ours, and we couldn’t imagine sharing it with another pack.”

  “When he found out about it,” interjected the female wolf, “D went into a bli
nd rage. He banished us from the group. When you came to talk to us about the boy, we understood that D was behind it. We went to see him to talk…” She shook her head. “He went crazy, refused to listen to reason. We barely made it out. After that, we understood that we couldn’t fight the coyotes and Mister D at the same time. And frankly, I prefer having Max, Jenny, and the others on my side rather than crazy Denikin.”

  “And the other victims,” I said. “Phoebe, Adam, Henry…”

  The wolf lowered her eyes. Her companion answered.

  “We kidnapped the phoenix and the dragon, but we didn’t kill them.”

  “You threw away their bodies like trash.”

  “We buried the little girl,” defended the female wolf. “As for the others…Mister D used their bodies to pin it on us, like the boy, Gardner.”

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t reveal your identities to the families of the victims?”

  Gertrude chose that moment to make her entrance, carrying her tray of pints of beer.

  I pulled aside the two lead wolves while Gertrude began to unload her tray without drenching the customers.

  “This is Gertrude,” I whispered. “A friend of Adam’s, the young dragon that Callum murdered. They liked to talk about sci-fi and comic books. Adam’s death greatly affected Gertrude. But it’s nothing compared to the pain of the boy’s parents. Have you ever seen a mother dragon who’s had her child taken from her?”

  They lowered their heads. “We deserve it,” said the female wolf. “Even if we didn’t kill those people, we knew full well what might happen to them. At the time…we just didn’t think of them as people. Callum spoke of them as monsters.”

  “Ah, look who’s talking!”

  They nodded.

  “We were greedy,” said the female wolf. “We wanted powers for the sake of feeling powerful. But when we came in contact with the wolves’ spirits…They’re honest and just beings. With them in us, we changed.”

  “Nothing we could say will ever be enough,” said her companion. “But we’re done with all that. And maybe setting off another bloodbath isn’t the best idea. I suppose it isn’t our place to judge.”