My Luck (Twisted Luck Book 1)

by Mel Todd

  I looked at him, completely lost. Everything he said raised more questions. I really wanted to talk to him and figure out what he meant. And maybe see Dahlia again.

  "Can't blame you." Sam turned and I heard the sirens that must have grabbed his attention. "And here comes backup." Another shriek grabbed my attention and I spun as someone started batting out the lawn chair that had caught fire. The person spun—from this distance all I got was skinny with dark hair—and the earth under Ivan's feet wrenched open and he stumbled into it, cursing.

  "Shit. This is what I was scared of. Why can't the idiots do pot? No one starts fights; all they do is talk about metaphysical crap and eat too much." The venom and stress in Scott's voice was stressing me out more than anything else. "I really hope your backup knows how to do crowd control over magical idiots."

  I glanced at Sam, expecting a confident answer, but as he looked around, he just nodded. "Me too."

  Running feet and clanking belts—I'd never realized how much noise the belts made when you ran—came up behind us, telling me who they had to be before I saw their faces.

  A man with tight curly reddish-brown hair on skin that was a toss-up between an Americano and a latte, trotted over to us. On his other side, with a figure I knew Jo would have been drooling over, was a woman. She had to be at least six feet tall and was all muscles and curves. Her nose and straight black hair mixed with skin that reminded me of chestnut wood hinted at a Native American background.

  "Oh good,” said Randolph. "Please tell me at least one of you can do something to stop this before it becomes a full-fledged riot? I can go in and kill them easily enough, but people get very upset when I do that unless sanctioned by the US government. And I don't see federal badges on any of you."

  I made a mental note to research who the heck Scott Randolph was.

  The two new cops glanced at him and then at the situation.

  "How many people? Just the ones here, or are there others on the campground we need to worry about?"

  Scott got a funny look on his face and took a half step back, which caused Sam to look stressed, which I found exceedingly odd. Weren't the cops on our side?

  "No. Just the people here." He flinched as the tires on a RV seemed to dissolve as a woman continued to screech. More and more people were getting to their feet, anger radiating in their body language.

  "Good, about what, twenty-five?"

  "Roughly," Scott's voice was wary. "Psychic mage?"

  Her grin held humor and maliciousness mixed together. "Archmage. You might want to get behind me."

  "Move, Cori." Sam had grabbed my arm and was pulling me back. The other cop backed up too, but he didn't have the odd look on Scott's face. Scott's look was something between envy, respect, and fear.

  "What is she going to do?" I asked as we backed up.

  The woman turned and looked at me, and I swore I saw power glowing in her eyes. "I'm going to knock them all out. They'll have hangovers from hell in about an hour, but none of them will even be thinking about throwing spells." She turned back around, and I itched to grab her and make me understand. There was so much I didn't know. I needed to know more. The list of things to research got longer and longer. Maybe I needed to pay more attention to what mages could do.

  "We should be safe here. Jada is good at this. Doubt it will even cost her a quarter inch of hair. I'm George Thompson, that's Jada Simons." George smiled at us as he talked, his gaze flicking over the three of us.

  I gave him a smile but then my eyes were drawn back to her. For some reason I expected something showy and comic book worthy. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then let it out. As she did people dropped like flies. One moment they were standing there yelling, the next they were crumpled on the ground.

  "What the hell was that?" I asked, shocked.

  George grinned, watching Jada. I didn't detect sex or lust in that look, just respect and admiration. "Psychic archmage. KO spell is something only they can use. It's devastating, but effective in small groups."

  "That was small?"

  "Merlins can do up to two hundred, but in full scale riots with thousands, it's useless. 'It's an excellent ability for a cop, 'cause it doesn't matter how much speed or booze you have in your system, you go down. Handy. Reduces shoot outs. Too bad it's limited to line of sight, but nothing's perfect."

  I looked around, stunned at how something I was starting to think we wouldn't make out of alive had just ended so simply. "Yeah, impressive," I said still looking.

  "Yeah, but he didn't tell you what else Psychic Mages can do." Randolph's tone was sour and he watched Jada with a look that told me he would trust a charging rhino before her.

  "Believe me, sir, the last thing I want to do is read anyone's mind,” said Jada. "It is never pleasant, ever. Frankly, it is the skill I use the least. Truth, at least, is useful if not annoying. Do you know how frustrating it gets to get a constant feedback in social niceties? I can't shut the damn thing off." Jada glared at him as she spoke. "So put your prejudices away, unless you have something to hide."

  "You know damn well everything I'm hiding isn't mine to say. And if you know who I am, you know you don't want to read my mind." He turned and looked at the unconscious group and the few coming in from further afield to look at the crumpled BAM members. "I swear, if any of them had actual planning abilities they might be dangerous. As it is, I'm stuck running an adult day care. Oh well, at least they pay me well. Now I'm going to dump all their booze and pretend I don't have a damn idea what happened to it. I hope the headache is hell."

  "It should be. I added a bit of extra umph to it."

  He gave her a long look then a sharp nod. "Good job. Send me the bill. I'll pay it." With that he walked away, collecting liquor bottles and dumping them on the ground as he went. Before he'd done more than a few the huge not-dog had joined him. I could hear low level murmuring from the people as they wrestled friends and loved ones up and away from the area.

  "If only all of them were that easy. At least they aren't trying to knock over banks," George said with a laugh. "Need us for anything else, Clements?"

  Sam shook his head. "Nah. Thanks. If I'd been stuck, things would have gotten messy.”

  "You related to Samuel Clemens?" Jada asked and Sam groaned.

  "No. My parents just had a very bad sense of humor, but I figure I got off lucky."

  "Oh?" Jada had crossed her arms across her chest, looking down at him. She could really pull off the imposing warrior act.

  "They named my brother Mark Twain Clements."

  George and Jada choked then started to laugh. "I'll agree. Let us know if you need anything else, but we're more than ready to get back to Atlanta," George said with a wave as they headed back. "This place is too quiet for us."

  We saw them off and I looked back at the quiet campsite. I'd always known mages could do amazing things, but I'd never realized how useful they could be for important stuff that didn't rate news stories and movies made about them. I'd have to remember that.

  Chapter 31

  Emergence: Contrary to what most people thought about magic in the Middle Ages, where magic resided in the domain of women (generally crones), magic emergence tends to occur after the cessation of puberty. With the hormones in the body settling down into defined routes, it is then that if the person is so blessed, they will emerge. Most people admit that teenagers with magic would be hazardous at best. ~ Magic Explained

  Holy shit, I didn't realize this had been based on a real person. And I met him? Holy moly. And he was so contained. But now his comment about killing everyone makes sense.

  I'd gotten to class early, so I took the time to look up Scott Randolph and almost dropped my phone. One of my favorite movies was The Rescue of Stranthorn. It had been an action adventure block buster and won two Oscars and multiple Golden Globes. The Oscars had been for Movie of the Year and Best Screenplay. As a teenager I'd watched it so many times I had entire sections of the movie mem
orized. It had also cemented in the public consciousness just how deadly a pissed off mage could be.

  The incident had happened before I was born. A small mall, Stranthorn Park in upper New York, was taken over by magic extremists. They felt that mages should be the ruling class and were going to execute one person an hour until the US government was dissolved. There were twenty mages, all determined to make sure the world knew that mages would never be kept in servitude again. A researcher from a small lab was also caught in the hostage situation. Scott Randolph – though for the movie they had changed his name to Steve Randolph. After they killed the first person, he single-handedly went up against all twenty and killed them. In the movie they had killed five more people, but according to the news story it was only two more, though by the end of the movie the mall had all but been destroyed.

  I tried to remember the various ways he had eliminated the bad guys, but in the movies it was always spectacular and visually stunning. The man I'd met seemed much more subtle. I quirked my head. In the movie he'd had a familiar. Digging back through I found it. He had one but it was killed in the battle. In the movie his familiar lived. In the movie it had been a beautiful dog, a husky or something like that. From the news story it had been much smaller with six legs, but still vaguely canine.

  Ouch. Losing your familiar must hurt.

  I didn't know much about the connection, but still anything like that would hurt. Wouldn't it? The rabbit hole of learning more about the man, and the trying to figure out why he was in Rockway, Georgia, beckoned but the door opened and Bruce came in.

  He cleared his throat to grab everyone's attention. "We won't be in here today. Everyone to the practical labs. We are all going to take the CPR-BLS Healthcare provider exam, the cognitive Exam, and the Psychomotor exams. You must pass the test to graduate. But by taking it now, it will allow you to assist while riding in rigs during your last rotation instead of being dead weight. Your exam costs are covered as part of this program."

  There were groans and grumbles, and a few panicked looks, but I grabbed my stuff and headed to the practical lab. This, at least, was useful. Maybe I could test first, but it was still hours of tests. Either way, no paper due next week. That made me happy.

  They had a refresher available for the CPR aspect, but I knew I didn't need it. The CPR-BLS or Cardio- Pulmonary Resuscitation: Basic Life Support test itself I, at least, was ready to take immediately. I cranked through the practical and multiple choice aspects of the test to the beat of Staying Alive in the background. I'd never get the darn song out of my head now.

  As soon as I'd cleared the CPR-BLS, I jumped on a computer and started the next one, the cognitive exam. I'd been studying the material for months. The better your scores were, the better your chance of getting a good job. And I needed this. Drug names were the hardest for me, but I'd been focusing on that via the practice tests. Psychomotor exams would be harder. They were done on a 'victim' and you were judged on how you did everything. It would help me to be sure I was ready for the ambulance ride along.

  Five hours later I was done and had passed everything. I wanted to dance. I just needed to finish the course to get my EMT certification.

  I walked out, one of the first people done, to glares of annoyance, especially Monique whose eyes radiated with hate I didn't understand. But I was just about dancing at my scores and the possibility of certification. If I applied when I got home, I'd be able to have my certification by the ride along. I had a bit more to get the paramedic certification, but step one was done.

  The ringing of my cell phone pulled me out of my euphoria, and I didn't even glance at the phone just answered.

  "This is Cori, successful passer of EMT exams." I expected it to be Jo, Molly, or maybe Kadia. And my joy had to be visible in my tone. I wanted to dance.

  "Congratulations are in order then?" There was a question in Sam's voice.

  "Yes, that is exactly what is in order. I got past the first hurdle. I can legally help now. And it justifies me getting paid!" That part almost had me shrieking. After everything, I could see a light at the end of this long journey.

  "Well then, we will need to celebrate. But first, you interested in working today? Would mean you'd take off Friday. We could use the help." He didn't sound stressed and the BAM had left two days ago. I considered the offer. With no paper tonight I didn't have anything else to do except personal research and that was just to satisfy my curiosity. Maybe if I worked, I could ask him about Scott Randolph.

  "Doing?" I at least wasn't going to sign up for anything truly awful. That question warred with the side of me that wanted to just say yes to the money aspect. But still ask questions, you never knew what people were trying to sign you up for.

  I could hear his amusement as he responded. "What? Don't trust me? No worries, nothing drastic. There's a game at the stadium this afternoon and we're short officers to do security. With the manpower from Atlanta last week we had to return the favor this week. I could use someone else to do security checking: wanding people, checking bags, and acting as authority to campus security."

  Laughter escaped me. "I'm supposed to act as authority to guys more than double my age and my weight?"

  "You've got good instincts. You don't overreact. I really think you should become a cop, Cori. I'd have you in my car any day. But yes. You get authority, and an official police vest." He said the words like he was dangling a carrot under my nose.

  "Sure, I can work." I looked around and shrugged. "I haven't actually left campus yet, so I don't have a uniform with me. "

  "Okay. I can swing buy, pick you up and take you home then we can go to the stadium and get ready?"

  "Oh, that would be great. Thanks." I told him where to pick me up and headed that direction. Fifteen minutes later I was in my apartment changing clothes. Ten minutes after that, having fortified myself with zapping a quesadilla Marisol had made for me, we were headed back to the college and the stadium.

  I'd never been a sports person so in the few years I'd attended, I'd never been to the stadium. With all the game day flags flying and people milling, it held energy that was almost seductive. Even I felt the desire to be part of the excitement.

  We parked and he grabbed a bag from his trunk. We headed to the stadium entrance, with me in an official police vest and my belt, but still no gun or taser. Part of me almost felt like a poser without them, but that wasn't something I had delusions about being able to use, though I had gotten much more comfortable around them.

  "This is pretty easy. For the most part we are looking for weapons. We don't care about a pocket knife, but no guns or batons. Check coolers and bags for booze. Sodas are fine, and it if is a single beer or something, use your judgment. Mostly I'm concerned about the hard stuff. Let me know if you see anything that sets off your alarm bells and I'll handle it."

  "Sounds easy enough."

  "It should be. Good way to spend a nice spring day." Sam grinned as he said it and handed me a wand and a bunch of zip ties, just in case.

  I was glad we were there early, as it gave me a chance to get into the groove of wanding and checking. The people coming in now were laid back, chattering about the game as they let me wand them and give cursory checks of their coolers. In the first hour I only had to confiscate one six pack of beer, which the person shrugged over and let go with grace, much to my relief.

  The flow sped up as the crowds grew thicker. I had to concentrate to not get over complacent, which was tempting as more and more people showed up. People got a bit more annoyed at having to wait to be wanded, but it didn't upset me. I got really good at that look Laurel gave me, the officious "I can make you regret your decisions'" look. To my amazement it worked, though I caught Sam glancing at me and fighting back a smile more than once.

  There was about fifteen minutes to the game start according to the start time being blared over the speaker system every five minutes. And really, they needed a better speaker system, the voice distortion was so bad I wasn
't sure it was a human speaking.

  A man approached mixed in with a herd of others. He was older than most of the people, but there were lots of parents and other relatives, so the age didn't make me look twice. I wanded him with fast efficient moves, and nothing pinged. I gave him my quick customer service smile. "Enjoy the game."

  "Oh, I'll enjoy the reactions."

  I froze, his words not stopping me so much as the tone and the sneer. Turning I followed him with my eyes as I held my hand up. His odd gait pulled at me. I'd seen lots of people over the years with various disabilities when it came to walking but his way of moving seemed wrong.

  "Sam?" I said, leaning over a bit so he could hear me over the sounds of people around us. He looked up at me, raising his brows. I nodded at the man hobbling away. And "hobble” was the only way I could phrase it. "Something is off about him."

  He followed my gaze, eyes narrowing. "I see it. Stay here." He headed after the man in a ground eating stride I didn't have the height or the weight to pull off. Some things just required a certain amount of physical mass, that I, at five-six and one twenty, just didn't have.

  "Sir, can you halt a moment? I need to talk to you."

  How Sam made his voice boom like that, I had no idea. But lots of people turned back to look at him, including the guy.

  "Yes, you, sir."

  The man started to run. But his odd gait made it so he didn't get very far before Sam was close enough to step in front of him. "Sir, can I see what is in your pants?"

  "Fuck you. Fuck you and the rest of your mage-loving idiots. Everyone thinking the world is so good. Can't you see you're all slaves?"

  Before Sam could stop him, not that I thought he had any idea what the man was about to do, he fell to his knees. Liquid shattered, soaking his pants. "I'll free you all."

  "Get down!" The words tore from my throat before I could think. The ground underneath him split, causing him to fall forward as an explosion rocked me to the ground and blew Sam over. Nearby people screamed out as shards hit them, but the man lay still.