by A. Blythe
Death Match
A Magic Bullet Novel, Book 2
A. Blythe
Red Palm Press LLC
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Afterword
Death Match
A Magic Bullet Novel, Book 2
By A. Blythe
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Copyright © 2016 Red Palm Press LLC
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Rebecca Frank
Created with Vellum
1
"You just blew through that yellow light," I scolded Pinky.
The seventeen-year-old mage gave me some serious side eye before responding. "I thought we were trying to catch our skip so you can get paid."
"We are, but I'd like to do it without disfiguring a perfectly good human body in the process. I only have one of those right now, remember?"
Two months ago, I was on a covert mission in Monaco, working as a Shadow Elite agent, a supernatural shadow intelligence agency, when I was captured and rendered unconscious. When I woke up, I was wearing premium-grade copper cuffs and heading straight to my hometown of Philadelphia, courtesy of my unknown captors. As a Marid djinni, copper cuffs aren't a fabulous accessory. They're a death sentence.
"How can I forget?" Pinky asked with an expert eye roll. "You're worse than my Great-Aunt Helen when she complains about how active she was before her arthritis."
Pinky and I had done a couple of minor jobs together now, enough to feed me and keep me from increasing my debt to my best friend, Farah. Right now, we were hot on the trail of a wanted fugitive. After a few small recovery jobs involving farm equipment and stolen money, the hunt for a fugitive got my blood pumping.
We parked Pinky's white Range Rover a couple of blocks away from the house, in case the skip or any of his friends was monitoring the area.
"Do we just walk up to the door and ring the bell?" Pinky asked.
Two months ago, I would have shifted to mist and drifted right under the door. I'd have slapped handcuffs on the guy before he even knew he had company. Then again, two months ago I wouldn't have been chasing down losers like Tony Jaworski through the East Oak Lane section of Philadelphia. Instead, I would have been in a luxury hotel overlooking the Mediterranean, on a mission to take down a big shot called Aladdin who'd apparently cornered the market on binding female djinn to objects, rendering them his personal slaves.
"No. He'll run." And, as much as I hated to admit it, there was a chance I wouldn't be able to catch him. I couldn't bend the light anymore. I could barely bend my knees without the joints cracking. Maybe her Great-Aunt Helen and I had more in common than Pinky realized.
I stood outside the sixteen-hundred-square-foot house with its worn siding and unkempt garden, trying to decide on the best course of action. The best human course anyway. My instincts raged inside me, furious that my true nature was being held captive. I tried to talk a little sense into myself. Tony's big crime was busting up the Irish Pub during a brawl with two other guys. This guy wasn't Aladdin or any of the other countless adversaries I'd been up against. He wasn't a real threat. Just a major pain in the ass.
"Argh," I said. My effort to soothe the savage beast inside wasn't working.
"What would you do if you had your powers right now?" Pinky asked. She'd grown accustomed to my frustration. "It's not like you'd incinerate him. He's a human and he's not that dangerous."
"Who cares?" I snarled. "I can't do any of it. I can't summon. I can't shift. Gods and stars, I can't even move gracefully. I run like a baby panda."
Pinky giggled. "OMG. I so wish you did. That would be stinkin' adorable."
I gave her my mean girl glare. "Don't ever use the word adorable in reference to me or our working relationship will be immediately terminated. Is that clear?"
Pinky's gaze dropped to the ground. "But baby pandas are adorable," she muttered.
"You take the back of the house," I said. "If he comes out, yell."
"I don't need to call you for help," Pinky argued. "I can use my magic."
"What would you do?" I asked. "Cloak yourself until you're near enough to jump on him? Even with the element of surprise, he'd shake you off like seasonal allergies."
"I can do other spells," she complained.
"Pinky, you have bags of potential, but I need you to leave the heavy lifting to me for now. You're still new to this whole thing." Her only experience in the field involved small jobs with me and most of them required no magic from her.
Pinky didn't respond. Instead, she trotted around the house without a backward glance, her blond ponytail swinging in its usual carefree fashion. In her ripped jeans and off-the-shoulder top, she looked like an edgy cheerleader.
"Don't do anything stupid," I called after her.
No response.
Great, she was going to sulk. Typical teen.
"Tony," I yelled, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Come on out and we can do this the easy way. Nobody wants to hurt you."
The upstairs window cracked open and I could see the top of a head. "Maybe I want to hurt you," a man's voice called back. A dog barked behind him as though backing up his statement.
"You skipped bail, Tony," I said. "You know you can't do that."
"I can and I did," he replied.
"How about I come inside and we can talk about it?"
"You know you can't come in here," he taunted.
"I'm not a cop, Tony," I said. "I don't need a warrant."
"But I don't live here," he shot back. "You can't enter someone else's home."
Damn. Tony had done his bail bond homework. Of course, the rule was that I couldn't enter someone else's home to look for a fugitive. In this case, however, the fugitive was right in front of me.
At that moment, the front door opened and a rail-thin woman in a threadbare robe stepped onto the front porch. Her hair was in tangles and she had dark circles under her eyes. Exhausted didn't even begin to describe her.
"You must be Angela," I said.
She took a long drag of a cigarette and nodded. "Just come in and arrest the asshole."
I stopped short. "Are you sure?"
Angela blew out a puff of smoke. "Damn dog barks half the night. I can't get my beauty sleep with that mutt staying here. The sooner Tony goes, the sooner I get rid of the dog."
I didn't wait for her to change her mind. I hurried up the front steps and into the house, just as Tony flew down the staircase and disappeared into the kitchen.
"Don't break anything," Angela called after me. "I got a whole ceramic pig collection in that kitchen. Belonged to my grandma."
I chased him into the kitchen and found the back door wide open.
"Pinky," I yelled. "Coming your way."
I leaped off the back steps and followed the fleeing figure. Unfortunately, his loyal companion also decided to join the hot pursuit. When I glanced down, the yellow Labrador was beside me, panting heavily.
I was getting outrun by a dog.
My ego and I were going to need to have a serious talk when this was over.
I reached the back fence and gave the dog a triumphant smirk as I launched myself over it. Tony was still moving at top speed through the neighbor's backyard. Where in the hell was Pinky?
I caught sight of her up ahead. She was down on one knee, deep in concentration. I saw the pinkish hue in the air and I knew what kind of spell she was trying to do. A shield. Not to protect herself but to keep Tony from getting any further from me. It was the smart play.
Tony ran smack into it and bounced back toward me. A bubble shield. Even better.
I grabbed him from behind before he hit the ground. "Gotcha."
I heard the dog barking wildly on the other side of the fence.
Tony didn't struggle this time. "What was that thing?" he asked in a daze. He pointed to where the shield had been.
"What thing?" I asked innocently. "I don't know what you mean." I slapped the cuffs on him and started to move him in the direction of Pinky's Range Rover.
"Your friend. She did something," he said and gestured lamely toward Pinky. I glanced over and noticed she still had one knee on the ground. Her hand was pressed to her forehead.
"Pinky?"
She peered up at me and managed a weak smile. "I'm okay. Be there in a sec."
By the time I secured Tony in the car, Pinky slipped into the driver's seat.
"You okay to drive?" I asked.
She nodded and started the car. I stayed in the back with Tony, in case he tried to pull a fast one.
"What's going to happen to my dog?" he asked. "Angela can't stand him. She'll just let him loose. He'll get hit by a car."
Pinky's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and I saw the sympathy reflected in those bright blue eyes. Double shit.
"Hold on, Pinky."
I got out of the car and ran back to Angela's yard to retrieve the dog. He growled as I came closer.
"Listen Fido," I snapped. "I'm not real excited about this either. Consider it my humanitarian act of the year."
He must have glimpsed the essential fire burning in my eyes because he dipped his head and let me take him by the collar.
I opened the door of the trunk and he jumped inside.
"Happy now?" I asked Tony, sliding in beside him.
"You're going to take care of my dog until I get out?" he asked me.
"No," Pinky said. "I will. We have a nice house with a big yard. He'll like it there. We'll be notified when you get released. I'll bring him to you."
"Thanks," Tony said, a bit bewildered by the turn of events. "His name is Pacino."
Tony managed to surprise me. I was sure the dog's name was Rocky.
We drove to the police station and I wished like hell I could summon earplugs to block out the sound of Pacino's barking. If I didn't already know Pinky was a mage, I'd have thought she was an angel.
After we wrapped up Tony's paperwork, Pinky dropped me off on South Street in front of my temporary home, Farah's apartment above Tops and Bottoms, the adult entertainment store she owned.
I climbed out of the Range Rover and poked my head back in the window.
"You did well today," I said. Although I wasn't an experienced giver of compliments, Pinky deserved a little praise.
"Thanks."
"Is your mom going to have a coronary over your new foster dog?" I asked.
"No, my mom's cool with animals."
"How's your head?"
"Still hurts a little," she admitted, which likely meant it hurt a lot. Pinky wasn't a complainer. It was one of the traits I appreciated about her.
"You should see a healer at the Enclave," I suggested. "Make sure it's nothing serious." The Enclave was the official organization for magicians, the offspring of djinn and humans. Pinky's dad had been a Marid djinni like me.
"I overdid it is all," Pinky said. "That bubble shield is a new spell. I haven't had time to perfect it."
"Maybe it's a little too much magic for you at this stage," I said. "I warned you not to use any spells."
"But it worked," she argued. "You weren't fast enough to catch him."
Ouch. "And what if the spell had caused more than a minor headache? You had no clue how it would impact you. This wasn't a life-or-death situation. You could have found another way."
Pinky chewed her lip. She knew I was right.
"How'd you know he'd be hiding at Angela's?" she finally asked.
I shrugged. "Human psychology. By all accounts, the guy is a responsible dog owner. I checked the pet supply stores in the area that offer loyalty cards and bingo. He used an ex-girlfriend's address that wasn't listed in any other records."
"Why do you think he didn't leave town?" Pinky asked. "Don't most fugitives leave the area?"
"Same reason I found him. His weakness. He couldn't take his dog on the run, but he refused to leave him behind." I gave her a pointed look. "Never get a pet."
Pinky glanced back at Pacino and smiled. "This one's only temporary."
"You're a better person than I am."
"I think that's been well established." Her smile faded. "Why do you know so much about human psychology? I thought you only handled supernatural missions for the Shadow Elite."
"And you think humans don't get mixed up in our world on a regular basis?" I raised an overgrown eyebrow. Dear gods, I wasn't used to plucking and pruning myself. What a literal pain. "The study of human psychology is a basic requirement at the Academy. PAN wants its graduates to understand humans in order to foster positive relationships with them."
Pinky laughed. "That's worked out really well for you."
"Hey." I tried to be mildly offended, but she was right. I was hardly the poster child for positive relationships with anyone, let alone humans. My life as a Shadow Elite agent meant I spent most of my time alone, pretending to be someone else. Not exactly healthy.
"I'll talk to you later," Pinky said and I stepped back onto the curb as she pulled away. Pacino watched me from the rear window. From the look on his face, I swear if he’d had a middle finger on his paw, he would've shown it to me.
2
Tracking Ghuls is like trying to find gold at the end of the rainbow, if gold was a big, ugly creature that gave any reasonable person nightmares. Although Ghuls were djinn like me, their caste was known for depravity and violence and with good reason. They were driven by a lust to feed. In fact, many supernaturals believed that Ghuls were the origin of the vampire myth.
"What makes you think we'll find a Ghul here?" Detective Thompson asked.
It was past midnight and we were staking out a couple of abandoned factories in North Philly after fresh corpses were found mutilated in a nearby cemetery.
I put a finger to my lips. Ghuls were a lot of things, but hearing-impaired wasn't one of them.
Detective Thompson gave me a pointed look. "You're shushing me? We haven't seen a living thing in twenty minutes and that includes rats."
She was about to learn there was a big, ugly reason for that.
"Lesson number one," I said. "Try not to think of Ghuls as living things."
"If I don't think of them as living, then I can't dream about killing them, can I?"
I understood her thirst for vengeance when it came to Ghuls. Kenya Thompson was orphaned when two Ghuls broke into her parents' bedroom and slaughtered them in their sleep. Ten-year-old Kenya had witnessed the horrific event in its entirety from her hiding place in the closet. Recently, she'd a
sked me to teach her about Ghuls, thus Ghul School was born. So far, the depraved bloodsuckers had proven elusive, but I had a feeling our luck was about to turn.
I signaled with my left hand. When she reached for her weapon, I shook my head. This little excursion was observational only. I warned her in advance that we were not to engage with any Ghuls. Not while I was shackled with copper cuffs. I wouldn't be able to defend myself and she didn't have the necessary experience to take one down. She needed to graduate from Ghul School first.
Shadows shifted on the side of the red brick building and I halted. Pretty sure I even halted my breathing. Luckily, Detective Thompson was a smart woman. She stopped moving, too.
I peeked around the corner, into the dark alley between two brick monstrosities. Three Ghuls were huddled together, speaking in low tones. With their blue-tinged bodies covered in hair the equivalent of peach fuzz, they looked like the ugliest set of triplets in the history of multiples.
I pulled back and dragged Detective Thompson as far from the alley as we could get without making a ruckus.
Once we were a safe distance away, I released a breath.
"A Ghul?" she asked.
"Ghuls plural," I said. "Three of them."
"Three? Then why are we leaving?" Detective Thompson began to move back toward the buildings. "They're too dangerous to leave at large."
Quickly, I grabbed her arm and held her in place. "Number one, we can't take on three Ghuls. You have no experience and I have no powers. Number two, three Ghuls are a bad sign."
"Aren't any number of Ghuls a bad sign?" she asked.
"Three is odd."
"So you can only attack them in even numbers? Let's go."
I drew a patient breath. "Odd as in weird. They don't usually move in groups. Maybe two at the most."
"So three is really bad news."
I nodded.
"Well, we can't just leave. We need to find out what they're up to," Detective Thompson said.
"No, no. We need to get far away from here." My feet were already killing me from the tracking. Why had I never noticed the high arches on this body's feet? I could only imagine how they'd feel after a run for my life.
