Power Mage 2

by Hondo Jinx

  “Like Colton’s?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Just like his. I mean, he’s an insufferable show off, and I know he only wants me because I’m Mommy’s daughter, but he does have a nice body, don’t you think?”

  Brawley didn’t say anything. He took another drink and stared at this beautiful girl with whom he neither had nor wanted anything in common.

  “Your other girls will thank me, that’s for sure,” Bella laughed. “We’ll make you look great. Straighten your teeth, smooth out all those rough callouses, erase all those nasty scars.”

  Brawley chugged the last of his beer, set the empty on the glass table, and stood. “Thanks for the beer, darlin. But I best be going.”

  “What?” Bella’s eyes went wide, her pretty mouth crumpled, and she flushed a deep red. This time, he reckoned the color was real.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You seem like a nice girl, but it wouldn’t work between us.”

  “What?” she said, looking confused. “You don’t want me?”

  “No offense, darlin. But we ain’t a match. We are from different worlds.”

  “You’re saying no to this?” She peeled down the lacy red bra, exposing the nicest tits he’d ever seen. Then, moving with that unnervingly smooth, supernatural speed, she swiveled around onto all fours and slapped her perfect ass, smiling slyly over one shoulder. “And this?”

  “You’re pretty as a picture and then some, but bonding is forever.”

  Bella’s smile died. She spun back around and popped to her feet, bare breasts heaving, and glared at him with all the pride and rage of a goddess scorned. “Nobody tells me no. I am the most desirable woman on this planet. Men would kill just to see my smile. They would die for a single kiss.”

  “Well,” Brawley said, “I’m not them. And I don’t make a habit of second-guessing my decisions, so I reckon we’d probably better just go our separate ways. Thanks again for the invite and the beer. I apologize for wasting your time.” Without a hat to tip, he nodded and started for the door.

  The next thing he knew, he was back on the couch. She slammed him onto the cushions and held him by the front of his shirt, her eyes as wild as a mare trapped in a burning barn.

  “Nobody tells me no!” she shouted. Her hand shot from his chest to the waist of his jeans. “You’re going to give me that power mage dick whether you like it or not.”

  Her eyes went wide as she sailed backwards over the glass table and crashed ass-first into a puffy white chair, almost bowling it over.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, honey,” he said, his left arm tingling from the release of telekinetic force. “Once you’ve had a chance to settle down, you’ll thank me. We aren’t cut out for death do us part, the two of us.”

  Bella struggled in vain against the invisible wall, turning purple with rage and spewing a garbled torrent of colorful threats, most of which involved ripping specific pieces of Brawley’s anatomy from his body.

  When she finally stopped raging a minute later, Brawley spoke again, keeping his voice calm. “I’m fixing to let you go. But listen up. I don’t make a habit of hurting women, but if you come at me again, you will see why they call me a power mage. I’ll roll you up like a fucking carpet, girl. You got me?”

  She nodded grudgingly, and he released her.

  She shot to her feet, eyes wild and showing her teeth. For a few seconds, they just stood there like a pair of gunfighters, each waiting for the other to draw.

  “Your move, darlin,” he said. “I’d rather not spread your brains all over this nice, white carpet.”

  Bella sputtered. Her face burned a murderous scarlet, her breasts heaved with rage, and the veins in her neck stood out like so many serpents just beneath the unblemished skin, bringing the devil costume to full life. She didn’t look half as pretty with her face all twisted up.

  “Nobody tells me no,” she said again, her voice quaking with anger. “You’ll pay for this, you half-fuggle asshole!”

  Bella stormed off, flipping him the double bird, and threw open the reinforced door, admitting a blast of loud music and a billowing cloud of sweet mist sliced to pink ribbons by strobing laser light. Then she was gone.

  Half-fuggle asshole, Brawley thought, the touch of a grin coming onto his face.

  You can always gauge a woman’s anger by how funny her insults get. He had to say that half-fuggle asshole ranked near the top, placing Bella’s anger somewhere between B-lining it to the knife drawer and heading straight for the gun cabinet.

  Either way, he had to get his women and get out of here. Pronto. Because he had a feeling that Heaven and Hell was fixing to drop the Heaven and double down on the second half of its name.

  23

  Brawley unslung his AA-12, reinforced the toy gun illusion, and headed out to rustle his women.

  In the hall, Callie rushed toward him, looking distraught. The leash hung limply in her hand, one pain in the ass bounty hunter noticeably absent from the other end.

  “Don’t tell me she got loose,” he said.

  The cat girl’s eyes were huge, and her tail was fluffed out like a bottle brush. “Someone recognized Remi. They dragged her into a room down the hall. Before they slammed the door, I saw them shackling her into a chair.”

  “Shit,” he said, pulling Callie along as he started toward the stairs. This was a complication he did not need. “We gotta get the girls and get out of here.”

  “That’s where they took her,” Callie said, pointing to a dark door into the wall. A big, bearded asshole in shades stood guard with his arms crossed. “I feel so bad. Remi is still wearing the hobble collar I put on her. She’ll never survive the interrogation.”

  “Oh hell,” he said, thinking through his options. “Can you fight?”

  “I can fight,” she said.

  “For real? Because I got a feeling that things are fixing to get downright lively around here.”

  Callie pinned back her ears, and her lips peeled away from a set of needle fangs. Dropping the leash, she lifted her hand, and three-inch claws popped like stiletto blades from the tips of her splayed fingers. “But if I’m going to fight, I’ll need both hands. Here. To Remi’s collar.” And she handed him a small key, which he tucked into his pocket.

  They reached the landing. Brawley spotted Bella down below, cutting across the dance floor, shoving people out of her way, hell-bent on getting wherever she was going.

  Brawley and Callie topped the stairs and headed for the tent. He gave the security guards half a smile and flashed the black and gold card.

  After a dubious glance at Callie, a Carnal unclasped the velvet rope and let them into the VIP area.

  Brawley strode into the tent.

  Irina blocked his path, putting her hands on his hips and giving him a cutesy smile with the pacifier pinched between her perfect, white teeth.

  Beyond Irina, Nina and Sage stood close together. Nina looked angry. Sage looked frightened.

  A big Carnal guy stood before them, leaning with one hand gripping an overhead support, grinning at them and gyrating his hips to the music. “Come on, girl,” the big guy laughed, reaching for Nina. “Melt in my mouth.”

  “Excuse me,” Brawley said, meaning to sidestep Irina.

  But her tiny hands held his hips tight, like the jaws of a bear trap.

  “Now don’t be rude, cowboy,” she said. “Give me the scoop. Tell me everything. Did you fuck her?”

  Instead of answering, he called over her shoulder, hollering to be heard over the thumping music. “Nina! Sage! Come on!”

  He saw the relief on their faces, and they started in his direction. The big guy put a hand on Nina’s shoulder. She pulled away, tearing her costume. The M&M deflated into a raisin.

  Irina gave him a shake, grinning. “OMG, you did, didn’t you? That little slut! I knew she had it in her.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” Brawley said, and managed to wriggle free.

  He gathered Nina and Sage into his arms, lean
ed his head between theirs, and said, “We gotta get out of here. Now.”

  Neither woman wasted time questioning him. They turned as one and headed toward Callie, who stood half in and half out of the tent, shaking her head and dipping away from the questing hand of a naked Carnal chick trying to pet her fur.

  Brawley shouldered between them, freeing Callie, and left the tent. He made a quick introduction between his wives and the cat girl.

  “Wait a second,” Nina said, squinting at Callie. “You’re that cat, the one from Mallory Square, the one Brawley saved.”

  “Yeah,” Callie said, looking embarrassed. “Sorry for all the trouble I caused.”

  “I got a feeling the real trouble is just starting,” Brawley said. “Coming here was a mistake, Seeker predictions be damned.”

  He didn’t want to arouse suspicion, so they walked calmly as they exited the VIP section.

  Irina called after them, trying to coax them back into the tent.

  Brawley gave a little wave and kept walking. When they reached the top of the stairs, he said, “You girls have to get out of here. As in now.”

  Sage nodded toward a darkened hallway opposite the stairs. “There’s an emergency exit back there. It’s locked from the inside and no one really uses it.”

  “Good,” Brawley said. “Take it and hurry back to the RV. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Where are you going?” Nina said.

  “I’m fixing to do something dumber than hell,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.”

  “I’m coming with you, then,” Nina said, and Brawley felt a surge of love for his purple-haired wife.

  “No, you’re not. Go. And if anybody tries to stop you, kill them.”

  Nina nodded once, slipped a hand into her torn costume, and that was that.

  He turned his gaze on Callie. “You go with them. I’m trusting you to protect my women.”

  “I can’t let you go alone,” Callie said. “It’s my fault—”

  “Go,” Brawley said, and what Callie saw in his eyes must’ve convinced her that arguing would do no good, because she dipped her head and joined the girls, who both gave him a quick kiss before heading into the darkened corridor.

  Then he was heading down the stairs, moving at a clip. He no longer had time for stealth. From here on out, it was balls to the wall, all in, everything on the line, no half-stepping, no timeouts, and no second chances.

  In front of the door Callie had pointed out stood six and a half feet of solid muscle. His huge forearms were crossed over his bulging pecs, which bounced to the music. Unlike most of the Miami Carnals, this guy had a lot of tats, and his tough-guy scowl split a thick beard, above which he wore mirrored shades.

  It took a special kind of asshole to wear sunglasses in a dark nightclub.

  The guy frowned at Brawley. “The fuck you want, skinny?”

  “The girl inside,” Brawley said. “I’m supposed to get her.”

  The guy uncrossed his python arms. “Says who?”

  Brawley waved the AA-12 like a toy and tapped his silver badge, showing the guy a cheesy grin. “Says the sheriff.”

  Big boy wasn’t amused. “Get the fuck out of here, or we’ll work on you next.”

  “Watch your tone, motherfucker,” Brawley said, switching tacks. “In case you haven’t heard, I’m Bella’s guest. You’re going to be seeing a lot of me around here from now on. If I let you come back, that is. Now open the fucking door before we get off to a really bad start.”

  That rattled big boy’s cage. He drew back like a spooked horse, his mouth tightening with apprehension and disappearing into the dark beard. When the guy’s mouth reappeared, his pearly whites were on full display. “No offense, buddy. You can go in. She’s probably still alive. Unless they already got everything they wanted to know out of her.”

  Like my name, Brawley thought. And the girls’ names.

  “Open the door, then,” Brawley said. “Bella wants the bitch alive.”

  Big boy gave a little bow, twisted the handled, and started to open the door.

  But then the thundering music slashed to a shocking stop.

  Bella’s voice rang in a shrill teapot whistle from the speakers. “Stop the cowboy! He looks like a fuggle, but he’s a power mage. Whoever stops him gets to snort lines off my pussy!”

  24

  The crowd erupted with a bloodthirsty cheer.

  The bearded Carnal’s head whipped around, and his huge muscles tensed.

  Brawley pulled the trigger, turning everything above the beard, mirrored shades and all, into a red mess.

  Big boy toppled, deader than a sack of wet gravel, and knocked the door open.

  The room beyond was similar in size to the lounge where Brawley had rejected Bella, but the decor couldn't have been more different.

  This wasn't a living room. It was a death room.

  In place of plush carpet was a cement floor with a drain at the center. Instead of cushy white couches and chairs, this room featured a single article of furniture, a heavy chair bolted to the floor above the drain. Along the back wall, where the lounge had boasted a fully stocked bar, this room sported a bloodstained workbench littered with implements of agony: knives and hammers, tongs and pliers, saws and power drills.

  Shackled in the chair was a woman he would not have recognized as Remi if it hadn't been for the sad little set of dog ears miraculously still perched atop her bowed head. They had done horrific things to her. At a glance, he registered her caved-in face, red holes polka-dotting her body and weeping dark blood, and large sections of raw flesh where the skin had been cruelly peeled away.

  Knowing Remi, she had told them to shove their questions up their asses.

  And then they’d gone to work on her.

  A killing frost settled over Brawley, chilling his blood not with fear but with a simple, single purpose. He was going to kill every last motherfucking one of them.

  Unfortunately, there were five Carnals looking up at him now, their confused expressions rapidly shifting into aggressive sneers. And considering their speed and power, five Carnals was three or four too many to take at this range, especially because three of them were huddled close enough to Remi that Brawley couldn't risk using the AA-12. He could kill them with telekinetic force, but he'd never get all five before one of them reached him.

  He didn't need extra firepower; he needed extra time.

  They started for him.

  Brawley released all the juice in his right arm and announced, "It's okay. I'm here to help."

  That stopped them dead in their tracks. Tentative smiles came onto their handsome faces. Two of which, a heartbeat later, disappeared in red clouds when Brawley fired the AA-12, let off the trigger, and swung it around to fire again, popping the skulls of the two Carnals not gathered near Remi.

  The remaining trio had been so convinced by his heavily juiced announcement that it took them a second to understand what was happening. And then, it was too late for them. Brawley released the juice from his other arm, whipping it from left to right, and a wrecking ball of telekinetic force swung just above their shoulders, smashing their skulls to bits one after the other.

  Five dead assholes slammed the ground. Good. He just hoped he wasn't too late to save Remi.

  The rush hit him then, crackling in his mind like a string of snapping firecrackers as his psi score hopped six times in rapid succession, raising him all the way to 184.

  Which would mean nothing, he realized, if he didn't get the fuck out of here. He ran to the door, tried to shut it, and realized the bearded corpse was blocking him.

  "You're mine, bone ass!" A deep voice roared outside, and Brawley turned to see none other than Colton Finn pounding up the stairs, followed by a pack of wild-eyed Carnals.

  Brawley kicked the corpse as hard as he could, shoving it out of the way. Then he slammed the door and threw the lock.

  At the same instant, Colton hit the panic room door,
which shuddered like it had been struck by a freight train. Thunderous explosions hammered at the door, which shook in its heavy frame.

  Bella had said it would take ten minutes for Carnals to break down one of these doors, but how long would it take a powerhouse like Colton Finn?

  Even if the door held for an hour, what difference would it make? How could Brawley hope to beat Colton Finn and a few hundred additional flesh mages?

  But then a voice came over the intercom, giving him new hope. “Everyone out,” a woman’s voice commanded. “Raid!”

  Apparently, Colton Finn didn’t give a shit. He kept hammering away.

  Brawley needed to draw his arms full of fresh power. But first, he would free Remi. Maybe without her collar, she could use her juice and heal enough to—

  "Look out," a gurgling, gravelly voice warned from behind him.

  Brawley turned and saw Remi calling to him from a bloody smear that had once been her pretty mouth.

  But this travesty barely registered, because along the back wall, a door he had not previously noticed now hung wide open, and a thick, red-haired carnal in a hockey mask and not much else was rushing across the room straight at him like a lion ready to pounce.

  Brawley held down the trigger, firing as he raised the AA-12, blasting holes in the guy's foot and thigh and breechcloth. The Carnal jerked but powered forward.

  The upward sweep of the shotgun continued, blowing holes in his gut, his chest, and finally shattering the hockey mask.

  Then the fucker hit Brawley.

  The thick shoulder slammed into Brawley's midsection, breaking bones and knocking the wind from his lungs. A volcano of pain erupted, instantly filling his body with steaming lava. Brawley's teeth clacked shut. The shotgun spun away. And Brawley sailed through the air, driven forward by this raging wall of flesh and bone.