The Amethyst Angle

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  The girl doesn’t flash a wand, but she does flex her fingers. So she’s an arcane mage then, and I assume practiced in destructive magic and incants. I sidle to the side, keeping the human barrier with the slapjack between the two of us.

  “What do you want with me?” I ask him. “I told your betters I’ll have the coin soon. And I don’t think they’ll look too highly on your intervention of my attempts to earn that coin, seeing as I’m out on business tonight.”

  “Not our business to know what your business is.” The thug shrugs. “Only to do as we’re told.” He sends a lascivious look toward Vayvanette. “And maybe a bit more.”

  That seals it. It’s definitely not me they’re after. I’ve got my answer.

  “Find a new line of business,” I say in warning. “Walk away.”

  “Not without her. And if we have to kill you to get to her, so be it.”

  He looks to his companions and points to Vayvanette, but before he can order them to go after her I send a fireshot ripping into his shoulder and sear the words from his lungs. Before he drops to the stones, slapping at the flames of his charred arm and chest and crying out in agony, I’m already moving, urged on by Vayvanette’s scream echoing down the cobblestoned street.

  The two remaining thugs change their direction and rush me as I drop the dessert tin and loose a windshot their way. I think this fight’s over before it’s started but the arcane mage across the street incants a wall of fire before her cohorts. The blaze rips into brilliant existence, sucking the power from my windshot, from the very air itself. The firewall frazzles out, leaving the thugs slightly singed but unharmed and my night vision briefly hindered.

  “Look out!” Vayvanette yells and I blindly dive to the side, rolling along the sidewalk to slam into a building. A wave of searing heat passes just over my ankles as the ball of magefire sent my way splatters against the building I had been standing in front of.

  I come up slightly dazed and find the two thugs no more than a few feet away. The first swings his knife in low and I use my wand to turn the blade away, knocking him off balance. I manage to keep my insides where they belong, but fail at doing the same for my wand. It clatters to the stones, leaving me unarmed. In hindsight, a boot knife does no good if you haven’t the mind to pull it.

  I send a fist into the off-balance thug’s ribs, shoulder him aside, and latch on to the second thug’s forearm before he can stab me. I yank his arm with all my might, drawing him forward, then let go and slam my elbow into the back of his head. He falls into a heap at my feet and by the time I’ve extricated myself, the first thug and his knife are ready for another round.

  From her alcove, Vayvanette screams again, though her exact words are lost to me.

  The blade flashes inches from my face as I dodge back, once, then twice. The thug doesn’t relent for one moment, and I’m wishing I had ditched the dessert tin much earlier in exchange for my boot knife. My back hits the wall of a building and I know I’ve lost too much ground.

  The thug knows it too, going by the broad grin on his face. He draws his knife back, ready for the killing blow. He’s relishing in the moment of my demise. Desperation sends my eyes flitting around the street like a caffeinated sprite. My wand is back near the steps of the fabric shop next to the unconscious thug on the sidewalk. Steam still rises from the whimpering thug in the middle of the street. And the mousy arcane mage is—

  Devil’s ball’s, where has she gone?

  And why has the street gone suddenly quiet? No more screams are coming from the alcove.

  That’s when I learn the answer to both questions. The mage has Vayvanette held fast, one arm twisted behind her back. The mage’s other hand is up around Vayvanette’s neck, and the two are backing away across the street. In moments, they’ll cross completely under the byway and be gone.

  Desperation pounds in my chest, each pump of my racing heart slams against the mental barriers Anderest taught me to keep my curse at bay. That arcane magic churns in my veins, and I’m thinking if ever there was one, this would be an opportune time to show this thug exactly why the Arcanium and I have such a tenuous relationship. My fingers splay out, and I won’t lie and say some deep-down part of me doesn’t revel in what I plan to do. I only hope that there won’t be too many witnesses, and that my mother is not looking down on me from whatever higher plane she now occupies.

  The nearest telektric lamp flickers and hisses like a snake in heat. It feels my draw, and by the look on the thug’s face before me, he can feel it too. He may be as clueless as goblin in a bathhouse but he knows something quite untoward is about to happen to him.

  I lift my hand; one touch is all it will take.

  He begins to thrust his blade forward; knowing that one strike is all it will take.

  Right before I drop the last of my mental barriers and fully let loose my curse, the thug’s body lights up like a Year’s End celebration, yellow and white bolts spider-webbing his entire body. I’m close enough that a tongue of the crackling energy arcs into my upraised hand and sends my jaw clamping down and my shoulders slamming back into the building.

  All concentration, hells, all everything slips through my shattered senses. Whatever I’m feeling right now, the thug is feeling tenfold. I manage to stay upright, or rather, the building keeps me upright, while the thug’s entire body locks and thrashes at the same time, finally giving in to the pull of gravity and collapsing to the ground.

  As the last tendrils of lightshot arc over the thug’s body and peter out, I glance up at the large man with a small wand across the way. For a second or two it looks like he’s standing underwater, but when I wipe the tears from my eyes, I see him more clearly. And he seems to be getting larger.

  I shake my head, realizing he’s not getting larger, he’s getting closer. Running toward me, actually. I will my legs to move, and when they aren’t too quick on the uptake, I throw my body back along the sidewalk in the direction of the fabric shop. I land roughly on the unconscious body of the first thug I’d knocked out, grope wildly about to find my wand, and roll over onto my back.

  The big guy’s nearly upon me, and the arcane mage with Vayvanette still in her grasp is clear across the street under the byway; I’ve got less than a hummingbird’s heartbeat to decide where to aim. The big guy’s as easy as the side of a barn and the arcane mage is too close to Vayvanette for a clean shot.

  I’ll take what’s coming to me, but I’ll be damned if I lose Vayvanette.

  I swing my six-spell over, away from the big guy, and let loose my last fireshot. The arcane mage laughs as my shot goes high, nowhere near her. Then it’s my turn to laugh as my fireshot strikes the center of the suspended byway, exploding in an eager blaze. Wooden planks catch fire like tinder and several leather ties go up in smoking flames.

  The entire structure groans in agony, shudders as if to shake the fire from its back, then with an avalanche of cracking and snapping bones, the frame gives in and collapses from the middle out. I pray to whatever god is listening that Vayvanette has the mind to protect herself as she and the arcane mage are showered in wood and debris, that she knows enough to crawl out of the mess and run like all hells out of here.

  A mountain looms over me, blocking sight of the chaos across the street.

  Ah, yes. The big guy.

  I whip my six-spell up, but a bear paw closes around it. Another paw wraps around my wrist. It might be a little late to the party, but I tuck my leg under me and finally manage to pull out my boot knife.

  Not much leverage from where I half-lie on the ground, but I figure I can still carve my initials into the brute before he introduces my nose to the back of my head. I bring my blade up and nearly scream as he yanks on the arm he’s gripping. My first thought is that the man wants to literally rip my arm from the socket and beat me bloody with it, but when he hauls me to my feet and suddenly lets go, I do a moment of rethinking.

  I stare up at him, and as I test my arm and shoulder, recognition hits me.r />
  “Master Fareski sends his regards,” the bear says with a polite finger to the brim of his top hat. He looks over at the collapsed byway. “That was foolish, even for you, Knell.”

  Never one to look a gift bear in the mouth, I only have time to nod my gratitude before rushing to the heap of splintered wood across the street. Fareski’s bear lumbers just behind me and though he’s got at least a stone’s weight on me, we reach the collapsed byway at the same time.

  I call out Vayvanette’s name, tossing aside planks and the occasional brick or stone in my frantic search for her. The bear paws through the debris as well, with much more efficiency than I can muster, and I determine it’s best to stand back lest I be battered by the storm of splintered wood he’s tossing aside like straw.

  A woman groans in pain a few feet away and I urge the bear to work faster. He comes to a heap of plaster-caked wood and lifts a piece of lumber as thick as my waist. Beneath, we find the source of the groaning. With blood drooling from the corner of her dusty mouth, the arcane mage struggles to breathe. Could be from the length of splintered wood buried in the side of her chest.

  “Where’s Vayvanette?” I shout at the arcane mage.

  Her eyes roll around in their sockets as if she can hear me but can’t quite see me.

  “Vayvanette!” I shout down at her, slapping her face three times in an attempt to knock some sense into her. I don’t need her to live, I just need her to live long enough—

  “Gideon?”

  Vayvanette!

  Her voice is muffled, but it’s her voice.

  I scramble over the dying mage to where I heard Vayvanette’s voice.

  “Where are you?” I call out.

  She doesn’t answer, but she does cough, leading me the edge of the rubble. My heart slams the back of my throat as I see her. She managed to drag herself out of the debris and is propped against the entry steps of a building.

  Dusty, battered, and likely bruised to all hells, but alive.

  I rush to her side and take her hand in mine.

  “I’m so sorry, Vayvanette,” I whisper in a beg for forgiveness. “You were too close to the mage. I couldn’t risk … I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  She shushes me with a smile, dimples shining through the mask of dust. A few tears have attempted to clear a path down her cheek and I try to wipe away all that they missed.

  “That was—” she begins.

  “Foolish,” I finish, glancing back and up at Fareski’s bear. “I’ve already been told.”

  Vayvanette shakes her head, coughs, then lifts her free hand to caress my cheek. “Brave,” she corrects me.

  “Can you stand?” I ask, and when she nods, I ease her up to her feet.

  As I look her over for injuries she waves me away. “She made the mistake of thinking I don’t know a thing or two of defending myself.”

  I stare curiously at her, then glance to where the arcane mage is half-buried.

  “I couldn’t do anything while she held me fast,” Vayvanette says, “but when you shot the byway, it distracted her. I stomped on her foot, elbowed her in the stomach, and jumped out of the way.”

  I’m amazed at the resilience of the woman, and am reminded of Anderest. She’s got the old man’s blood in her for sure.

  Vayvanette does her best to clean the worst of the dirt from her ruined dress and asks, “Who’s your friend?”

  I’m so lost in watching her, somehow beautiful even in tattered clothing and covered in grime, that I forget about the bear standing just behind me. I look back at the man and say, if a bit questioningly, “Julien Fareski’s man.”

  The bear steps into the light. He nods and sketches a lumbering bow Vayvanette’s way. When he rights himself, he cocks his head to the side as if listening to hoof beats in the distance. His gaze settles back on Vayvanette and he relates, “Master Fareski says he is glad that such a beauty still walks, and he looks forward to the next time you grace the Far and Wide with your presence.”

  Even in the dark of night and under the dust and grime, Vayvanette’s blush creeps through. “You tell Master Fareski that I am forever in his debt.”

  The bear gestures to the glittering earring he is wearing and replies, “You have just done so yourself, my lady.”

  I look at the earring, a small thing with a diamond stud, and say to it, “And I’m fine, too.”

  The bear cocks his head as he listens to Fareski’s magical whisper. After a moment he grins and says, “A fine debt, yes.”

  Cursed Fareski. Richest man in the Burroughs and once again I find myself having to offer my future services for free. I wave my hand in agreement then realize Fareski can’t see.

  “Very well,” I say.

  After another head cock the bear says, “You are a wise investment.”

  I thoroughly hate being in debt, but I suspect I’d hate being dead even more.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble. When the bear fails to respond, I swallow what’s left of my pride and say, “Thank you, Julien.”

  The bear doesn’t even wait to hear Fareski’s response before stepping past me and taking Vayvanette’s dainty hand in both of his massive paws. “You will be fine, my lady?”

  I doubt he’s speaking for Fareski.

  “Yes,” she says, way too liberal with those dimples of hers if you ask me. “Thank him for me. And you, as well.”

  That’s enough of that. I step between them, pull her hand free before it’s crushed to pulp, and snap, “I’ve got it from here. Come one, Vayvanette. We need to leave before the Watch shows.”

  The bear flashes his teeth down at me. “What about the mage?”

  I look over to where she’s likely struggling for her last breath. “Let the Watch see to her last words.”

  With that, I lead Vayvanette away from the death and destruction.

  With all that’s happened, all that I’ve done this night, one thing is certain. I’d set out with the intentions of finding who has a stake in this mess of a case, and I just confirmed that the beautiful woman wrapped once again around my arm is most definitely at the center of it all. And my old friends at the Arcanium know the reason why.

  They were willing to kill me to get to Vayvanette. Now I’m willing to kill to find out why.

  14

  DEBTS PAID

  I wake up to the peaceful sounds of waves crashing against pebbled shores, a heavy blanket bundled up on my chest, the wind warm and rhythmic on face. I lie there with my eyes closed, enjoying the moment. Until my body and mind come together fully enough to slap me sideways with a harsh dose of reality.

  I don’t live in a beachside shack.

  I crack open my eyes to find Durmet perched on my chest. His feline face is mere inches from mine and his tiny nostrils flares with each breath he takes.

  “Thought you’d sleep forever, boss.”

  I drop my head back to my pillow and stare up at the crossbeams of the ceiling in my small bedroom.

  “Wish I could.”

  Durmet tsks down at me twice. “You’re a terrible sight.”

  “So is your mug so early in the morning.”

  “Morning?” He takes flight and I track him to the nearest window, where he lands and sends his shadow slinking into my room. “It’s near noon, boss.”

  Alls hells. I sit up, much too quickly for my own good. Last night’s fancy dinner threatens to come back up in an un-fancy manner. I press my hands to my temples and squeeze my eyes tight.

  “Well?” Durmet asks.

  I groan and toss aside my threadbare blanket then manage to get to my feet. “Give me a minute, will you?”

  He has no choice but to wait for me as I head downstairs to the bathroom where I finally get a moment to run through last night’s events. It was well past midnight when I delivered Vayvanette to her gardenesque estate.

  Two telektric lamps lit her front gate, locked to the night, and we paused there in the pale glow of the moon.

  “May I walk you in?�
� It was, after all, the least I could do after what she went through, what I put her through.

  Even through the stains of our misadventure, her face shone like a second moon as she said, “No, I’m fine, Gideon. I’m more worried about you.”

  I laughed her concern away. “I’ll be fine. Been in worse scrapes than that.”

  She reached up and wiped what I assume was dirt or perhaps a drop of blood from my cheek and I melted into her gentle touch.

  “How can one become used to such violence?” she asked.

  “I’m resilient,” I replied, knowing full well how chauvinistic it sounded.

  She stared at me for a long moment, telektric glow catching her eyes in sparkling wonderment. Finally, as if taking my word for truth, she asked, “Will I see you again soon?”

  “Of course. But there are things I need to look into, people I need to seek out.”

  “About the case?”

  I don’t know if she was gently urging me not to seek out revenge against the thugs that accosted us or if she didn’t want me to put myself in unnecessary danger. Either way, the two were, at this point, not exactly mutually exclusive.

  “Of course,” I said again.

  Then she tiptoed up to me and planted the smallest of kisses on my cheek, one that sent tendrils of warmth spreading though my body and rooting determination in my soul.

  I finish washing up in the here and now and head back upstairs to my office. On the way to my desk, Durmet flaps by and drops half a loaf of bread in my outstretched hand. He heads to his corner perch to devour his half of breakfast—no, lunch—and I thank him and sit at my desk, where I tear into both bread and last night’s turn of events. When I’m finished talking, Durmet’s face flashes with something akin to admiration.

  “You used the girl for bait?” he says. “I’m nearly proud of you, boss.”

  Exaltations from a demon aren’t exactly the things to warm my guilty conscience or soothe my frazzled ego. Still, I’ll take what I can get. I wave a hand in gratitude his way.