Paranormal Chaos

by Joshua Roots

  “Nobody is asking you to rejoin your people. What I am asking is for you to be my battle-buddy on this mission. But I won’t force you if you’re unwilling. I respect you and your wishes, so if you’re really saying no, then I’ll leave it be. But win, lose or draw, I’m marching into the Minotaur camp and hashing this thing out.”

  His enormous black eyes swiveled to meet mine. “That’s stupid.”

  “Yeah, well stupid seems to be my superpower.”

  Steve actually laughed. “You do have a knack for collateral damage.” His smile faded slowly. “You’re going to get yourself killed without me.”

  “Probably.”

  He inhaled deeply, then released a long breath. “You and your folks are the closest thing I have to a family anymore. You’re people that I would, and literally have, taken a bullet for. So please understand when I say that I can’t help you on this one.”

  His words hung in the air between us. The hollow, familiar ache of defeat settled into my chest.

  “It’s okay, I understand.”

  “Do you?” he asked, and for a moment, I could almost feel the pain he was struggling so hard to repress.

  I swallowed. “Yeah, I do.”

  Chapter 3

  The Road to Nowhere

  “At the Queen’s request, the great inventor, Daedalus, crafted a cow of wood.”

  —The Legend of Ariadne

  “I don’t understand,” I snarled, gripping the steering wheel of my beat-up old Honda SUV, dubbed the Gray Ghost, tighter.

  “He must have a reason, babe,” my girlfriend, Quinn, said from the passenger seat. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The jet-black bob, normally streaked with pink, was highlighted white to honor her most recent advancement in Huntress training.

  We were stopped on the parking lot known as I-66, just inside the Beltway of Washington, DC. Despite the late hour, traffic was at a standstill because of an accident. Or construction. Or a leaf on the road. Or who the hell knew. The highway had been a bottlenecking nightmare since the day it was built. Ten thousand years from now, archeologists will uncover its asphalt carcass and wonder how a society could subject its people to such cruelty.

  My ears burned with anger, both at the traffic jam and at Steve. “He doesn’t want anything to do with his clan.”

  Quinn gave me her patented expression of loving tolerance. “Did he say why?”

  “No.”

  She slowly picked a piece of fuzz from her sweater. “Maybe that’s for the best. Some things are better left buried and forgotten.”

  As the daughter of an infamous Necromancer, she knew what she was talking about.

  “Burying the past is one thing. Allowing me to fly solo into a dangerous situation is quite another.”

  “Marcus,” Quinn chided, but I was too fired up to slow down.

  “He swore he’d always have my back. Always be there when it mattered most. Well this is one of those times. I barely know how to handle human politics, much less Minotaur. Yet the one creature who might actually be able to help me won’t because of family issues.” I waved a hand in the direction of DC and, by proxy, Delwinn HQ. “The Council is desperate to put a halt to all this secession talk. They’ve trusted me with this and if I succeed, it’ll finally get me in good with the bigwigs. But if I screw it up, I’ll be right back where I started: a black sheep.”

  “Would that really be a bad thing?” Quinn asked softly. “You’ve worked on your own once before.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not that guy anymore.” I thumped my fist on the steering wheel. “The Shifter family is supposed to protect people from paranormal creepy-crawlies. That code of honor is ingrained in my DNA. For a while I thought that working solo was enough to satisfy that need. It wasn’t. Freelancing was lonely. For years I just plodded along, doing the bare minimum to pay the rent and keep food in the fridge. I was surviving but not living. Working with a team this past year, working with you before that, made me realize how much I’d missed by walking away. But more important, I actually believe this is what I was meant to do. Hell, I finally want to serve the Skilled community. The Council needs to change, needs to modernize, but it has to come from within. If I can be one of the new voices with a vote, I can guide our future rather than sitting on the sidelines and bitching about it. Loners do that crap and I’m sick and tired of being alone.”

  I sat there, nearly panting as the storm of emotions ran its course. My frustration over the terms of Devon’s deal, my anger at Steve, my fear that I would screw up and find myself alone once more, they all bled from me like a dying fire. The raging flames slowly turned to burning embers, then dwindled to smoke.

  Quinn watched me for a moment, then simply slid her left hand into my right one and pulled it into her lap. She wrapped her other one around it. Her flesh was soft, but her grip firm.

  She held on, squeezing as if trying to purge the darkness inside me. I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo, and focused on my breathing. The lingering heat of anger was replaced with the comforting warmth of her skin.

  The longer we sat there, the more aware I became of her. Her dark bob framed her tanned face while her emerald eyes sparkled in the scarlet glow of taillights. My attention shifted to the thin sweater over her firm breasts, the soft scraping of her fingernails on the back of my hand, and the hard muscles of her long legs. She was alluring and exotic, but also radiated the kind of beauty that originated from a caring soul, huge heart and tolerant nature.

  Her Skill vibrated, shining white-hot on my senses. The power emanating from her was startling, especially when compared to my own oatmeal-flavored Skill. Having stood by her side in combat, I’d witnessed her abilities. She outpaced me by miles in the magic department, which was sexier than the tight jeans she liked to pour herself into on date nights.

  “You are a good man,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “And you’re not alone. Councilmember or not, you have family and friends who love you.”

  I relaxed, the tension bleeding from me quickly. Her words, simple and plain, were earnest.

  Sometimes that’s all a man needs.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  She looked up at me. “Of course. You can’t bottle your emotions. Vent, cry, scream, do whatever you need to process them. And before you even think it, I’m your girlfriend. If there’s anyone you should vent to, it’s me. Okay?”

  Damn, she knew me.

  “Okay.”

  “Good boy.” She leaned over and kissed my check. Sparks of electricity ran up my hairline. Then she sat back. “So. Canada in November. That will be fun.”

  I returned my attention to the brake lights in front of us. They hadn’t moved. “Yeah, it’s like a paid vacation.”

  Quinn chuckled softly.

  “Seriously, though. I shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of weeks. Most of that time will be spent negotiating with the Minotaurs. Well, that and not dying.”

  “Please don’t get yourself killed.”

  “Apparently you don’t know me.”

  “Moron.” She patted my leg. “But at least you’re my moron.”

  I couldn’t help but grin. “That I am.”

  We fell into our own thoughts as we inched forward. My mind kept running over the details of the mission. How the hell did the Council expect me to convince the Minotaurs not to secede? Devon was adamant that being friends with Steve was the key, but what was I to do without him?

  Then again, Devon might have been grasping at straws. The eldest of the Elders was still dealing with the fallout from the Council’s most recent troubles, so maybe he was operating on hope more than solid tactical analysis. Steve certainly made it sound like his presence wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway. There was bad blood between him and his clan, enoug
h that my friend had moved to the Underground, a place where only those with something to hide, or hide from, go. Something few Minotaurs had done.

  A knot formed in my stomach. What had I been thinking, asking him to go back? Council orders or not, that was a crappy thing to do to him.

  Oh man, I really was the worst friend in the world.

  “Are you kidding me?” Quinn grumbled, pulling me back to the moment. “A fender-bender on the other side of the highway?”

  My eyes drifted toward the flashing lights. “Welcome to 66. Home of the Rubberneckers.”

  Once past the accident, the drive into DC was as smooth as warm butter. Ten minutes later, we were pulling on to a side street near the Delwinn HQ.

  “Thanks for taking care of the Ghost,” I said, hauling my gear out of the back seat. I snapped the thigh holster for my Glock in place and buckled my sword between my shoulder blades. I worked the straps till it was seated properly, then slipped the backpack over it. The modified sheath allowed me to draw the weapon even with the pack on. It was crude but would work in a pinch.

  I hoped.

  I shut the rear door and paused. Having just gotten my car back from the repair shop, I was loath to say goodbye.

  Quinn took the keys from me. “He’s in good hands. I certainly can’t treat him any worse than you have recently.”

  “True.”

  She wrapped me in a hug, pressing herself to me. “Be careful, you idiot.”

  I gripped her tight, wishing I could stop time so we could live in that moment. “No promises.”

  Quinn didn’t laugh. “I’m serious. Watch yourself out there. And if things go haywire and you need backup, you call me.”

  “But your training—”

  “Will wait. Promise me.”

  I wanted to protest, to offer some macho or sexist joke, but couldn’t even fake the energy to do so. She was ten times more powerful than me and a heck of a lot more surgical with her Skill. If there was anyone on this planet I needed at my side, whether it was watching a movie or facing insurmountable odds, it was her.

  “I promise.”

  She smiled. “That’s my Warlock. Once I’m done, I’ll join you if you want.”

  I warmed all over. “Oh, I want.”

  “Yeah, you do.” She kissed me one last time. “I’ll miss your butt,” she added, then hopped into the Ghost and pulled away.

  I watched my rattling rust bucket disappear around a corner. Once she was gone, the chill of DC sank into my bones, motivating me to find the entrance to the Underground as quickly as humanly possible.

  I spent the first thirty minutes scouring the various alleyways, but came up with nothing. While frustrating, it wasn’t much of a surprise. The Underground was as secretive as it was dangerous, and entry points shifted almost constantly. Locating the damn thing was half the battle. Figuring out how to unlock it was the other.

  The delay, however, kicked my paranoia into high gear. While I loved DC, with all its museums and fine dining, it had a sinister side. Like all major cities, some areas were rougher than others and rarely visited during the day, much less at night. Yet here I was, banging around in the dark like a clumsy moron.

  And predators always preyed on the weak or stupid.

  Minutes began to feel like hours. When I’d first entered the city, I thought for sure I’d sensed the entrance in this part of town. But with each passing moment, my confidence in my Skill faded.

  Then my senses tingled and not in a good way.

  “You lost, stranger?” someone asked in the distance. I looked up to see a half-dozen silhouettes walking slowly down the alley.

  “Of course,” I muttered under my breath. Then out loud, “I’m good, thanks. Just minding my own business.”

  “Minding his own business,” another slurred. “Is it because you’re out of your mind?”

  His buddies laughed at the guy’s piss-poor joke.

  Oh, awesome. A comedian.

  The first guy stepped into the ambient light from a nearby building. He was a tall kid with refined cheekbones. “Looks to me like you’re visiting our great city. You picked a dangerous time to go sightseeing.”

  I scanned the group and swore under my breath. None of them radiated with Skill, but holy moley did they reek of booze. Each was dressed in the expensive, casual outfits of trust-fund a-holes enjoying a night out on the town.

  And wanting to cause a little trouble, apparently.

  A big guy lumbered forward, face beet red from cold and drink. “Hey, he’s talking to you.”

  I gave the large jerk the once-over. Broad and powerful, he carried himself like a man used to intimidating people with his size. Hopefully that meant he also had a glass jaw.

  The rest were unknowns. Buried beneath the designer coats were various races and builds. The one thing they had in common, however, was the glassy-eyed gaze of dumbasses who didn’t know their limit. The last thing I needed was any kind of delay. Best to deal with the situation quickly and move on.

  “I heard him.” I kept my voice calm as I slipped the large backpack from my shoulders and gently lowered it to the ground. I paused half a second, almost reaching for the hilt of my sword, but decided against it. Drawing it, just like pulling the Glock, would take this confrontation to a level I wasn’t comfortable with. Killing in self-defense was one thing, but turning a bunch of drunken douchebags into pincushions wasn’t something I could live with.

  But beating the crap out of these idiots? That I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over.

  The leader took a step forward. “I don’t think I like your attitude.”

  I held up my hands, hoping for one last chance at diplomacy. “Guys, let’s just call it a draw, okay? I’m already running behind and none of us wants this to go the way it’s headed. Tell your buddies at the bar, country club, hair salon, or wherever it is you like to hang out that you whipped my ass. But please walk away.”

  The leader sized me up. Then his face split into a wide, wicked grin.

  Aw hell.

  The linebacker was the first to move. He was quick for someone so big and so drunk, closing the distance between us faster than I expected. I spun to dodge the incoming meat missile. An extra second and the move would have worked. Instead, the human land mass clipped me.

  I was tossed like a rag doll, stumbling before falling face-first toward the pavement. Instinct took over and I twisted, absorbing the asphalt with my entire side. Pain rattled through my bones, but it hurt way less than if I’d busted a wrist trying to prevent the fall.

  Rolling, I came to my knees as the rest of Seal Team Stupid attacked. My arms were whirlwinds, deflecting fists and expensive designer boots. Most of the swings were sloppy, but there was enough talent hidden beneath the haze of alcohol that I began to warm with anger. This wasn’t the first time these morons had done something like this. From the coordination of their moves, it was almost like they practiced it. Regularly.

  The linebacker connected a massive fist to my shoulder and I dropped. Blocking some of the pain with my Skill, I rose sharply, driving my fist into his stomach. Cashmere gave way to fat, which gave way to a solid wall of muscle. My wrist screamed in agony.

  The big boy grunted, then grabbed me around the waist. As he lifted me, I pounded my fists into his chin in rapid succession. The first two blows did little to rattle the behemoth, but the third made him pause.

  Sensing a crack in his thick hide, I reached out with my Skill. Raw elemental power was all around me, but it was the lingering electricity in a nearby junction box that caught my attention.

  Unlike other elements, electricity was difficult to control for any amount of time. It was ethereal and active, moving faster than the human brain could process. Most practitioners stuck with sturdy, dependable powers like earth and air, but f
or those willing to train, electricity could pack one hell of a punch.

  Using one of the spells Mom had taught me, I called to the element. It responded, racing to me in a flash. Sparks danced through my body, causing my entire nervous system to pop and sizzle while the raw, white energy vibrated in anticipation.

  Unwilling to hold it longer than necessary, I reared back and slammed my fists on the top of the linebacker’s head. Tiny lightning bolts spread along the guy’s skull, singeing his messy hair. The power wasn’t enough to cook his small brain, but it did have the effect of hitting him with a Taser.

  The guy released me, his body clenching as he staggered to one knee. I landed softly, then grabbed the back of his head and slammed my knee into his face. Blue sparks exploded on contact and he slumped to the ground.

  The moment he went down, several more pairs of hands were on me. I spun, driving an electrified elbow backward into the chest of a d-bag. He inhaled sharply and went stiff as the muscles beneath his thick designer coat seized. A powered-up fist to the jaw and the lights went out in the studio apartment that was the dude’s brain.

  Two more of his buddies barely had time to register confusion before they, too, hit the pavement.

  I almost smiled. Four down in less than a minute. Apparently my training sessions with Steve were starting to pay off.

  Something collided with the back of my skull, knocking me forward. My vision grayed and I stumbled into a Dumpster. The distraction caused me to lose my grip on my spell and the electricity dissipated instantly.

  I turned in time to deflect the fist of the leader. It bounced off the metal hide of the Dumpster with a clang, but any pain the jerk felt was apparently masked by booze and rage. He swung again, missing my face by inches. I returned fire to his chin, but with little effect. The guy was too hopped up on the moment to be affected and nothing short of a nuclear option would slow him down.

  In an act of sheer desperation, I reached down, searching for his sensitive bits. The leader’s eyes went wide as I gripped all of him, squeezing as if I were cracking open a pecan. He gagged, freezing in agony as I applied another few ounces of pressure.