Forbidden Magic: The Complete Collection

by Anya Merchant

  The inside of the building was larger than he’d been expecting, and lit by a large trash can fire at the center of it. Four men stood in various places on the floor, and all of them were frozen in place as though they were mannequins. Victor recognized Mike Sanchez and took a cautious step over to him.

  “Can you hear me?” He tried to keep his voice low, but it was hard, and Victor was getting more nervous by the second. “Can any of you hear me?”

  Night Angel stepped out from behind a doorway in the back of the building. She’d foregone her overcoat and was in the process of pulling on the outfit Victor had seen her in the night before. Her eyes scanned the room, and she froze upon seeing him. She wordlessly waved her hand, and all four of the men charged forward.

  Fuck!

  Victor crouched into a low roll, dodging a grapple from a chunky man who’d been standing directly to his right. All of the men under Night Angel’s control were of a formidable build, but their movements were slower and more robotic than they should have been.

  Unfortunately for Victor, he was still outnumbered. He blocked a blow from the fat man, and Mike Sanchez slammed an uncaring fist into his stomach. Winded, Victor made an attempt at pushing through the group of them to get his back against the wall. Another fist lashed out, and he dodged a second too late. The third man’s knuckles struck against the side of his mouth, splitting his lip open.

  “I don’t know who you are, but you made a mistake coming here,” said Night Angel. She was still wiggling into a pair of leather pants, but waved a hand at the men, who ceased their attack against Victor and held him steady.

  “Stop this!” shouted Victor. “Let these men go!”

  “You’re one of these men now, I’m afraid.” She walked over to Victor, and he saw the aura surrounding her turn purple. She extended a hand toward his forehead, and a sudden realization dawned on him.

  If she uses her nanites on me, it’s over.

  Night Angel’s face was illuminated just enough by the fire for Victor to see her mouth turn up in a slight smile. He seized the moment, feeling out his scarlet aura and binding it to his hands.

  Instead of flaring it outward into a jet, as Victor had in their last encounter, he used the aura on his own skin. The men holding him loosened their grip, and two of them pulled their hands back in surprise. Victor felt feverish, but it was bearable, and he took advantage of the extra room to maneuver and slam forward into Night Angel.

  She let out a surprised squeal and fell backward underneath him. Victor pulled back his fist, intent on slamming it into her chest. Before he could, Night Angel’s aura shifted into blindingly bright light, and a bucket flew from across the room and into his head.

  Was that… telekinesis?

  Victor could feel blood seeping out of a cut from where the sharp lip of the bucket had connected with him. Night Angel rolled out from underneath him, shifted her aura back to a dark, almost black shade of purple, and set her servants back on him.

  He’d managed to get one foot underneath him before the largest man knocked him back over. Victor scampered back toward the wall and began focusing his awareness inward, only to find nothing there waiting for him.

  My scarlet aura isn’t working!

  All he could do was shield his head as the blows began to rain down on him. It wasn’t a passionate beat down, like a fight against an enraged opponent. Instead, the punches and kicks fell in methodical patterns, striking at undefended parts of his body with no emotion.

  “I’m sorry about this.” Night Angel’s voice was soft, with a surprising edge of empathy in it. “You should have stayed out of my business.”

  Victor let out a primal, angry roar and caught one of the man’s legs as it traced a path toward his gut. He twisted, knocking his attacker off balance. Unfortunately, the other mind-controlled members of Night Angel’s posse were quick to pick up the slack. With his guard down, one of them landed a hard punch against his temple.

  “…Why?” Victor struggled to get out even a single word as he curled up into the fetal position, shielding himself in a mostly ineffectual manner.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” said Night Angel. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

  A kick smashed into the crest of Victor’s armpit, sending a shooting pain through his chest. Blood dripped from a dozen different cuts throughout his body, complimented by deep bruises and broken ribs.

  Victor tried his scarlet aura again. He could feel something there, much more slight and reduced than it had been originally, but it was definitely there. Unfortunately, the goons didn’t let up, leaving him with no chance to regain his focus.

  And then there was a far-off sound that gave him hope. A police siren slowly drawled in the distance, growing louder by the second. Victor opened his eyes and saw Night Angel slowly moving away from the front door.

  “I’m sorry.” She turned and ran through the door in the back of the building. Victor summoned enough energy to rise to his feet, but the mind controlled goons were still attacking him, intent on keeping him from following after.

  “Get back!” Victor summoned the energy he needed to bind his scarlet aura and slipped by one of the men, getting his back against the wall. The sound of tires screeching onto the side walk came from the outside, followed by fast footsteps and shouts.

  Finally! The cavalry is here!

  Victor turned around just as the first police officer made it through the door. He pointed his hand at the men, all of whom had gone suddenly still, as though switched off by their controller. To his horror, the cop leveled his gun not at them, but at Victor.

  “Hold on!” he shouted. “I’m not

  The gun went off, and pain exploded into Victor’s shoulder. He staggered backward and felt the energy he’d been holding in his scarlet aura spill out, splashing fire onto the walls and floor of the building. The cop flinched back, out through the door.

  More gunshots from more armed officers spilled through the building. Victor was low enough to the ground to be relatively safe, but he saw the bullets ripping through the men, tearing holes into their chests. The flames spread quickly, eating through the drywall and dusty furniture.

  Victor crawled his way toward the door in the back that Night Angel had left through, only managing to pull himself to his feet after he’d made it to the stairs leading to the back alley. It was raining outside, and the cop watching the exit didn’t notice him for the critical second he needed to break into a run.

  “Stop right there! You’re under arrest!”

  Victor felt numb, in part from the overload of pain, and in part from what had just happened. He didn’t stop and sped forward with reckless speed. The rain turned to steam wherever it struck his skin, surrounding him in a cloak of steam.

  There were no lamp lights in the outskirts, but lightning shimmered in the sky overhead, illuminating up the area for a precious millisecond. Victor rushed forward, into another building and up a set of stairs. He tried to keep going along the roof and noticed where it ended a moment too late.

  He fell fifteen feet to the ground and into an old dumpster, filled to the brim with cardboard. It broke his fall, and it seemed to be the only bit of luck that the night had afforded him.

  I was wrong. And I won’t get another chance.

  Thunder cracked as the storm intensified. The rain felt good, but it wasn’t enough.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Dad, it’s raining.”

  Victor stood in what was left of the evening’s light. The grass under his feet was clean and well cared after. He’d seen the groundskeeper on the way in, who’d been carrying a bag full of mulch or fertilizer out toward a neatly painted shed in the back of the courtyard.

  John Anders wore a clean black suit. The black tie around his neck was slightly looser than it should have been, with a half inch gap in between the loop and his collar. He held a medium sized bottle of expensive gin in his left hand, and looking at it made Victor feel uncomfortable.

&nb
sp; “Dad…” Victor tried to swallow a lump in his throat. “The rain…”

  In front of them, amidst a field of matching granite headstones and perfectly manicured grass plots, was the grave of Victor’s mother, Mona. It was the anniversary of her death, and as always, the two of them were there to pay their respects.

  Usually, that entailed reliving most of the experience of her burial over again, at least for John. Victor only remembered his mother’s death in through the vaguest scraps of memories, distorted through the veil of time.

  “She didn’t deserve this, Victor.” His father slurred his words as he spoke, but the misery still smoldered underneath every syllable. “She didn’t deserve to die.”

  “Dad, please…” Victor took a step forward. Part of him wanted to reach out a reassuring hand and put it on his dad’s shoulder. But John had been drinking, and Victor knew better. He knew what alcohol did to his father’s already unpredictable behavior.

  “I can’t bring her back…” John shook his head and then buried it into the crook of his arm. “I can’t even work anymore. Not now that the company has…”

  He stopped, glancing over his shoulder at Victor, but not making eye contact with his son.

  “I can still do something,” he whispered. “I have to do something, Victor. It’s what she would have wanted.”

  It wasn’t raining when Victor woke up. He was in bed, under soft covers. He was also in pain, more pain than he’d ever known before in his life. His skin tingled with feverish heat, and his body ached from bruises in a hundred different places.

  And then there was the gunshot wound. Victor slowly lifted up enough in bed to look down at his shoulder. Someone had bandaged it for him, but every movement sent a shooting pain up his arm.

  How the hell am I still alive?

  The room he was in looked like a mixture between an infirmary, a prison cell, and a mental ward. Soft padding material covered the walls and floor, and the bed was bare outside of the sheets and pillow.

  Victor let out a pained groan and tried to force himself to his feet. It was only then that he noticed the handcuffs linking his right wrist to the bed’s frame.

  I’m under arrest. The police found me, after all.

  He swore under his breath and collapsed back down onto his bed. Every inch of his body begged for him to lie down, to rest, to not fight the inevitable.

  I have to stop her. I have to.

  Victor wasn’t sure how long he’d been laying in the bed for when the door finally opened. He looked across the empty room, and saw Lucy walking toward him. She had a clipboard in one hand and came to a stop a few feet away from the bed.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Victor forced a smile onto his face.

  “Great,” he said. “Just peachy, in fact. How’d you find me?”

  “Kronenberg tipped me off.” Lucy took another step toward him, her expression serious. “From the sounds of it, the two of you were running quite the operation.”

  “Yeah, we could be the stars of a buddy cop comedy. A mutant and a robot team up to stop a sadistic criminal mastermind.”

  Lucy’s expression didn’t waver. She let out a soft sigh and then sat down on the bed next to his legs.

  “I made a mistake, Victor.”

  “You made a mistake?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “I made the mistake of thinking that there was a way that you could work with us.” Lucy shook her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “It’s my fault that this ended up happening.”

  “Lucy, come on. That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not.” Lucy settled her gaze onto his. “Victor, I don’t want to have to be the one to tell you this, but the building you were in when the cops found you… it burned to the ground.”

  Victor shook his head.

  “So? What does that have to do with…”

  The implications of what she was saying took a shameful amount of time to sink in completely. He thought of the men under Night Angel’s control, who’d been right there when he’d flared his scarlet aura. They were the men he’d been there to save, and they’d been standing in the building like training dummies when he’d escaped.

  “No…” Victor shook his head. “But, the cops… opened fire.”

  “There were no survivors, Victor,” said Lucy, softly. “But it isn’t your fault. It’s mine, for bringing you here, and putting all of these ideas in your head.”

  Victor felt sick to his stomach. Emotion surged through his chest, and he found it suddenly very hard to breathe. He tried to sit up, and his wrist caught on the handcuff.

  “No! God fucking damn it!” He took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Please, Lucy. It’s Night Angel! She was the one who started all of this. Let me go after her!”

  Lucy shook her head.

  “No,” she said. “I can’t allow you to do that. It’s not just for your sake, Victor, I owe it to him. Your father.”

  Victor heard her words and almost laughed.

  “You don’t owe him a god damn thing. You don’t understand, Lucy.”

  “Oh yeah? Is that right?” Lucy’s voice became sharp, and her eyes narrowed into a glare. “Are you going to explain it to me, then?”

  Victor didn’t say anything. He pulled at the cuffs again and let out a slow, frustrated breath.

  “Look, just let me go after her,” he said. “Please. I have to see this through to the end.”

  “There will be an end, Victor.” Lucy stood up and took a step toward the door. “We have a doctor specialized in nanomedicine coming in to see to it. Piper is going to assist him with giving you a partial blood transfusion. It should dim the effects of your nanites down to a level that will fade on its own over a few days.”

  “No!” Victor sat up in the bed and tugged at the handcuffs. “Lucy, don’t do this!”

  “I’m sorry Victor. It’s for the best.”

  “Lucy!”

  Lucy didn’t turn back as she stepped out through the door. It shut behind her, leaving Victor alone with his pain and his thoughts.

  Seconds turned to minutes, which slowly collected into hours. Victor didn’t know what time it was or how long he’d been in the room. He felt himself starting to get hungry, and wondered if anyone would come if he tried shouting for dinner.

  The door opened before he could make an attempt. A woman wearing a blouse and a business casual skirt stood to the side, and Kronenberg hovered in after. The woman left, shutting the door behind her.

  “Hey buddy,” said Kronenberg. “How are you feeling?”

  “The most accurate way to describe it would involve a steamroller and several hammer blows.”

  “Ah.” Kronenberg settled down onto his spider legs in the center of the floor. “Sorry about that.”

  “Would you stop with that shit already? Lucy already made her guilty conscience painfully clear to me. The last thing I need is for you to give me the sob job.”

  Kronenberg chuckled.

  “Look, this might be for the best.” Kronenberg’s head dome flashed orange as he spoke. “I don’t feel guilty for what we did, and how I got you involved. But I was acting out of my own interests.”

  Victor sat up as much as he could in bed.

  “How so?”

  “It’s probably not something you can notice, but Lucy hasn’t been herself since these murders started. You showed up in the middle of things. She isn’t always so… snappy.”

  “Alright,” said Victor. “So you were trying to help her?”

  “I’m not just trying to help her. I’m doing what she would do if she could. Her hands are tied by her… circumstances.”

  Victor raised an eyebrow.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Kronenberg let out a slow sigh that sounded strangely modulated.

  “It’s complicated, Victor,” he said. “I can’t explain all of it to you. What I can say is that these murders are personal for her. She lost her parents when she was a t
eenager.”

  Victor stifled a shrug.

  “What does that have to do with—“

  “They were murdered. By a serial killer.” Kronenberg took to the air, hovering in place. “The conditions surrounding their deaths were unusual, and they never managed to find the culprit.”

  “Oh.” Victor chewed his lip. “Jesus…”

  “Yeah.”

  Except for the sound of Kronenberg’s rotors, the room was silent.

  “Then that’s all the more reason for you to help me.” Victor pulled at the handcuffs, shaking the metal slightly. “Find a way to get me out of here.”

  “I can’t, Victor,” said Kronenberg. “Even coming to see you like this is taking a huge risk.”

  “Fuck it, there has to be something you can do!”

  “There isn’t.” Kronenberg carefully hovered in closer to Victor, and then continued, the volume of his voice speaker almost muted. “But there is something you can do. With your nano auras.”

  “What?” Victor shook his head. “How are they going to help? Do you expect me to burn my way out?”

  The memory of the abandoned building and his scarlet aura flashed before his eyes. Victor felt guilt nagging at his heart, the knowledge that he likely contributed to the deaths of four men.

  What the hell am I doing? If I escape, I’ll only cause more damage and more harm.

  “Victor,” said Kronenberg. “You figured out how to use your scarlet aura, albeit in an uncontrolled way, in only a couple of days. It took our other aura binder months to be able to control hers that well.”

  “So?”

  “So try using the other ones, dumbass.” Kronenberg started moving toward the door. “There’s only one guard watching your door, and some of the auras are a bit more subtle than the flames. It’s the only chance you’ve got. If you find Night Angel, you can still put an end to this.”

  Victor watched as the door opened and Kronenberg hovered out through it. He slowly lowered himself back down into bed, and started focusing.

  CHAPTER 17