Tales from the Magitech Lounge

by Saje Williams

  “You’ve turned hard, Jack.”

  If only. I smiled grimly and leaned back in the chair. “Start talking.”

  She took a long sip from her Mai-Tai and grimaced. “A little strong, don’t you think?”

  “No,” I replied tersely, giving her my best evil eye. Not that it does anything but evoke amusement in most people. I’m pretty sure that no one considers me scary.

  She sighed. “Fine. You know about the Conclave, right?”

  “No,” I said sarcastically, “I’ve been living under a rock.” The Conclave was the vampire union—a way for that particular preternatural type to lobby the Confed government as a bloc rather than as individuals. The inception of the Conclave went back to before the Cen War, and had probably prevented untold amounts of bloodshed. “Don’t tell me you pissed off the Conclave.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t. I pissed off the clans.”

  I goggled at that. The Conclave was a democratic group, while the clans were arranged in a pseudo-feudal system, each clan gaining a foothold and owing allegiance to the strongest among them in any given city. Most of the violence that arose from the vampire culture came from the clans, and no one in their right mind would do anything to offend them unless they had someone very powerful to back them up. Like the Confed Adjuster himself hiding in their back pocket. For example.

  I smiled at her, feeling a little sick to my stomach. “How in the hell did you manage that?”

  “You don’t pay a lot of attention to the news, do you?”

  I shrugged. “Most of the corporate services are full of shit,” I told her. “Been like that since before the Cen War.”

  She didn’t like that, but she let it pass. “I have a column in the West Coast Alliance-Herald. We’re a real service—we actually pay our own journalists to collect the news, unlike most of the wire outfits these days. One of our street reporters ran into something of a hassle with the Master of Portland last week and damn near got himself killed. So I wrote an editorial on the whole clan system. I’m afraid I was a little harsh.”

  I closed my eyes and groaned aloud. She’d always been a talented writer. When she pointed her pen at someone in particular, they obligingly caught fire. I could only imagine what she’d chosen to write in this case. “And now they’re after you?”

  “I think so. I received a call this morning, right after my column hit the stands. The voice on the other end of the transmission wasn’t normal. It resonated weirdly. You know what vampire voices sound like. He told me that I’d better watch my back or I’d end up wishing I were dead.”

  That didn’t sound too bad to me, and I told her as much. She gave me a look like I had a mound of gravel instead of a brain rattling around inside my skull.

  “What can you think of that’s worse than death, Jack? How about being turned into a vamp and made a blood-slave to a clan master?”

  I shuddered. She was right. That was a pretty damn scary notion. “Writing that editorial was a damn silly thing to do, but I understand why you did it. C’mon. We need to figure out what kind of backup we can drum up for you here.”

  “You surprise me, Jack. I figured you’d just throw me out anyway.”

  “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong, Lilith. A bit stupid, maybe, but I wouldn’t say it was wrong.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She picked up her drink again and climbed to her feet. “So…you plan to announce my problem to all those tourists out there?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We’re going to tell my security crew and wait for the tourists to clear out this evening. Then I’m going to tell my regulars. And, yes, we have regulars. When they get here the tourists will make themselves scarce. The average Joe and Jill can only stand so much rubbing elbows with the terminally weird.”

  She chuckled at that, a deep throaty sound that made my stomach clench. I’d missed that laugh more than I’d realized.

  I led her out into the common room and motioned for Kevin to join us. He gave me a quick nod, said something to the pretty young lady he was schmoozing and trotted across the dance floor toward us.

  Kevin’s so pale his skin is almost translucent. A lot of people mistake him for a vampire at first. He’s a lithe, almost androgynous being with dark eyes that contrast completely with his colorless complexion and the shock of blonde hair perched upon his skull.

  Kevin’s a mage, and a pretty good one by all reports. He’s also a powerful empath and one of the nicest people I’ve ever known. He’s got a good word for everyone, and just his presence tends to defuse tense situations. He’s in his early twenties and rumor has it he was one of those amazing prodigies who graduated from high school when he was thirteen and, allegedly, completed medical school by the age of twenty. I seriously doubted that last part. What would a doctor be doing working security in a club, even one as unique as the Magitech Lounge? I thought it very unlikely.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Bone had started that nonsense and it had taken off as if wearing rocket skates. Being called “boss” made me feel like a mobster. Bugged the crap out of me.

  Kevin knew it too. He didn’t miss much. He did it just to be a pain. “Kevin, this is Lilith. She’s in trouble with the clans and I’m offering her sanctuary.”

  “Lilith? You’re the one that writes that column in the West Coaster?”

  She beamed at him, plainly pleased that he recognized her. “That’s me.”

  “Wow. I was just thinking this morning that you were either stupid or incredibly brave.” He paused a moment. “Now that I’ve met you, I’m leaning more toward brave.”

  She wasn’t quite sure how to take that. Or so I imagined by the expression on her face. Which, I assumed, had been his intent.

  Did I mention that Kevin has a quirky sense of humor? “Do we have any clan members in our regular crowd?” I asked him.

  He thought about it, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. We’ve got a few Conclavers, but the clans have their own clubs. They wouldn’t be comfortable with all the warm fuzzies here at the Lounge.”

  I grinned at that. He had a point. The clan vamps thrived on the dark and forbidding aura they carried with them like the stench of the grave. Most sentient folk preferred the company of Conclave vamps, with good reason. They tended to be decent people who just happened to be dead.

  “You hungry?” I asked Lilith.

  “Famished,” she replied. “I haven’t been able to eat since I got that call.”

  “What would you like?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care. Food.”

  I laughed. “Fine. I take it you’re not allergic to anything?”

  “Nope. What kind of menu do you have here?”

  “Pretty eclectic,” I answered. “Kevin—do me a favor and let the rest of the crew know we might have some problems later. It’s a good bet that the clans will be able to track her here.”

  He nodded. “Not a problem, boss.” He smiled at Lilith. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Same here,” she replied, sounding sincere enough. I walked her through the tables and to the bar, where I leaned across and told Jeremy, the day bartender, to have Fisk, our cook, make up a couple of burger baskets when he had the chance.

  When night fell, Lilith was upstairs in my suite getting cleaned up. I’d managed to convince her to take a nap.

  I’d come down in time to watch the exodus of the day crowd when my freaks began to arrive. As usual, the first of them was Hydra, a massive gray-skinned troll who can barely fit through the door. One look at him as he trundled up the ramp sent most of the day-timers fumbling for their jackets and racing for the exit. The ramp creaked warningly as he shambled up its length.

  I wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. Hydra looked like an unholy cross between an elephant and a human being, but he was a gentle giant if there ever was one. I’d seen him go out of his way to rescue one of our giant wharf rats from a feral cat. The rat, panicked beyond reason, had tri
ed to bite him, but Hydra’s skin was too thick for its teeth to pierce. He’d gently reached up and placed it on the roof of a nearby building. It would hurt his feelings if I laughed, so I didn’t. Even though I would have been laughing at the stampede of folks leaving the place, I was afraid he’d take it wrong. I wouldn’t hurt Hydra’s feelings for anything in the world.

  Behind Hydra came Hammad, a bearded Muslim street busker who carried his guitar everywhere he went. On Tuesday nights he plays a couple sets for the crowd and always refuses payment. “I play all day for people who aren’t really interested. I’m not going to charge my friends,” he said once. Though he’d never confirmed it, I had a suspicion Hammad was also a mage.

  A few minutes later the door opened and Steph entered, walking up the ramp so smoothly it looked as if she were floating. Steph’s a vampire and she plays the neo-goth to the hilt. Everything on her is black, including hair and lipstick, and she wears enough eyeliner to be mistaken for a slumming Egyptian queen. Kevin’s got a thing for her but she pretends not to notice. I haven’t stuck my nose into it because, for one, it’s none of my business, and for another, they seem to be good friends. Sometimes that works out, sometimes it doesn’t. For the two of them, it seemed to work just fine.

  Steph’s a Conclave vamp, and something gives me the impression she’s pretty high up in their hierarchy, though she’s never quite come out and said as much. I was hoping she’d show up that night. She’s a regular, but not nearly as regular as Hydra or Hammad.

  Some time later Seth strolled in, dressed as usual in a five hundred cred silk suit. The man’s a clotheshorse and just about as vain as they come. I have to admit he has reason to be. The man has the looks and bearing of a movie star and, despite being entirely too concerned about his appearance, he’s a lot of fun to be around. He’s witty, urbane, and unfailingly polite, even when he’s annoyed by something. In fact, he’s even more polite when annoyed.

  I was one of the few people who knew he was a meta, though how all of the others avoided making the connection between our buddy Seth and the super who calls himself “Captain Glorious”, I’ll never know. The first time I saw him on the view—what those in other universes might call a television, if I remember right—with his sparkling silver suit and neatly pressed cape flapping in the breeze as he tried to talk a jumper down from the Golden Gate Bridge, I just knew it was Seth.

  I’m still a bit shaky on what his meta power is, since I’m pretty sure he uses magical devices to fly and enhance his strength. At least that’s what Kevin said about Captain Glorious, and I have no reason to doubt his word on the subject. He would know, after all.

  And I’d forgotten that it was the third Thursday of the month. For some reason that particular day brought in a couple of our most unusual patrons—the retired rock god Stormchild and his paramour, the dark and mysterious lady vampire, Rio. They’d been coming in since the first day we opened, which just happened to be a third Thursday.

  After Stormchild and his lady love came the Twining Twins. They’re not really twins, we just call them that. They’re actually the same person from two different universes who happened to meet up and form a business partnership. They have a kind of telepathy with one another and it can get downright creepy at times.

  It wasn’t a full crowd, but by ten it was pretty clear that no one else was going to show. So I climbed up on the stage, grabbed the mic we occasionally used for karaoke, and gave everyone the rundown on Lilith’s problem.

  “Do you think she’s really in danger?” Seth asked, visibly puffing up just a little. I could almost read his mind—he was imagining riding to the rescue as Captain Glorious in his sparkling clean, and exquisitely tailored, superhero gear. The big goofball.

  “Why doesn’t she just go to the Adjuster’s Office?” rumbled Hydra.

  “Because that would spark a war,” Lilith replied, from the landing at the top of the first flight of stairs. “Deryk Shea would love to take on the clans, but we all know how bad that could get.”

  “You know how the clans came to be, don’t you?” Rio said suddenly, surprising everyone. Rio wasn’t the most talkative of our regulars. In fact, I’m not sure when last I actually heard her address the group. Or if she ever had. Nice lady, but quiet.

  She continued after a pregnant pause. “A vampire named Jason Keening talked a powerful wizard into crafting a spell to throw him back in time, to a point long before his kind existed. This, of course, spawned a whole new universe, and he began creating his own minions to spread through the human population. His goal was to recreate the background of some stupid role-playing-game he and his friends played as teenagers, where vampires lived in the shadows of the human world, ruled by powerful feudal lords and a covenant of secrecy.

  “He succeeded there, but that wasn’t enough for him. One of the founders of the Conclave was his mother, who’d also been turned, and he wanted revenge on her and the other vamps who supported her as well.

  “It took them a while to manage it, but they found a way to jump between the universes. This small contingent of those vamps who didn’t want to join the conclave has since become a force to reckon with. They don’t want to live in peace with mortals—they want to dominate them like they do on their own world.”

  That was a bit of history I didn’t know. “So do you have all the clans pissed off at you, or just the ones in Portland?”

  Lilith shook her head. “I have no idea. The voice wasn’t exactly specific about that.”

  “So what are the chances we’ll have to deal with this Keening character?” Bone asked Rio.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s even here on this Earth. He’s under a sentence of death—there are any number of people who’d love to get their hands on him. He’s probably terribly powerful now though, which means your average bounty hunter or Adjuster’s agent wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  I didn’t like the slow grin that crawled across the were-panther’s face. “What kind of reward are we talking here?”

  “Last I heard it was up to five million creds.”

  Stormchild glanced at her, an unreadable expression on his countenance. Maybe he was wondering why she’d never tried to collect the reward. Legend had it that she was considerably more powerful than most vamps herself. I’d be willing to bet she’d be able to give Keening a run for his money.

  Then again it was certainly possible I was reading him wrong. Stormchild was an immortal, and could be as inscrutable as they come. When you’ve been around for over twenty-five thousand years, ordinary human motivations don’t make a lot of sense to you anymore.

  Or so I would imagine. I’ll probably never know for sure.

  At about midnight I heard a cry from outside and tensed. I glanced at Kevin, who’d taken up a position near the bar. He nodded at me, squinted for a moment, then held up five fingers. He made a motion and Bone materialized in our midst, looking a little disheveled, but none the worse for wear. He did, however, look angry. “What the hell did you do that for?” he spat at Kevin. “I was thumping some vamps and doing a damn good job at it until—“

  “I told him to,” I interrupted. “You’re not going to fight these guys alone, Boneyard. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  He nodded; a little sullenly, I thought.

  The door exploded inward and a handful of vampires floated in. Not literally, but that’s what it looked like. I scowled and gave them my best laser glare. “It wasn’t locked,” I told them. “I hope someone plans on paying for that.”

  Their leader, a golden-skinned fellow with hip-long dreadlocks and eyes like pits of fire, met my gaze squarely and smiled grimly. “Where’s the bitch?”

  “If you’re looking for a female dog,” said Rio icily, “I suggest you visit the Humane Society.”

  He ignored her, which I didn’t think was particularly wise.

  About then I spotted Seth creeping up the stairs to my suite and suppressed a grin. Captain Glorious was about to make an
appearance. He’d probably leave via my window and come in through the front door behind the vamps. I gave him even odds on getting past Lilith without being noticed.

  Dreadlocks took a single step onto the ramp and Stormchild stepped forward. “I wouldn’t suggest coming any farther,” he drawled, lightning crackling between his outstretched fingers. “It might not kill you, but it ain’t gonna feel too good either.”

  The vamp leader froze in place. “Who the hell are you?” he asked in a snarl.

  The immortal smiled. “Some people call me Thor…but my name is Stormchild.”

  For a brief second, the dark-skinned vamp actually looked like one. He visibly blanched. You didn’t move up in the preternatural community if you didn’t know who the immortals were. Storm was one of the big bads, and this vamp knew it all too well. “You can’t back us off,” he hissed. “She deserves to pay for what she said.”

  “Or get paid for it,” I heard Kevin mutter. “Hey, asshole! Haven’t you ever heard of freedom of the press?”

  It was pretty clear that these were just lackeys—either ordered to make an example of Lilith, or taking it upon themselves to do so. They’d be a threat to her if she were alone, but they weren’t going to gain any ground against the Lounge regulars.

  And something told me they knew it. Hydra ambled forward, cracking his massive knuckles. “You guys sure you wanna brawl?” he asked. “I’ve been itchin’ for a fight.”

  They all gave him the once-over and winced. Tangling with the gray-skinned troll would be a lot like going toe-to-toe with a bulldozer. They’d be faster, but one good hit on his part would be enough to crush a skull. And damage to the brain or spinal column was a vamp’s one weakness. Other than sunlight, of course.

  We all jumped when another human figure came flying through the door, bowling over a couple of the vamps who were taken by surprise, and landing in a heap on the ramp. Shining like a thousand-watt halogen lamp, Captain Glorious stepped across the threshold, expression hidden behind the full face mask he wore.