My Luck (Twisted Luck Book 1)

by Mel Todd

  I climbed back to my feet and raced over to Sam, cursing myself softly at not having my med bag with me. He lay there shaking his head, eyes unfocused. I did a quick safety check on him, but other than some minor cuts he was fine but dazed. I checked him for a possible concussion, but his eyes dilated correctly, and he could answer my questions as he sat up slowly.

  Verifying he was fine I headed over to the man, I didn't want to move him, but I needed to check his pulse. I reached down under his hair to check his pulse and got nothing.

  "Sam, help me roll him over. I need to see the damage." I didn't see any flames, but the ground under my feet felt funny, crumbly almost. Sam got up and on three we carefully rolled him over. Gasps and the sounds of a few people heaving surrounded us at I stared at the man. Whatever he had strapped to his legs had blown down creating a crater underneath him. He'd obviously had more things strapped to his torso. His legs, pelvic area, and abdomen areas were messes of red gore. There was no chance of him surviving or even still being alive.

  "I'd say he blew up all his chances at freeing anyone," I muttered.

  Sam just glared at me as sirens approached our location.

  Chapter 32

  Information rules the world, and the OMO is well aware of this. As one of the few independent agencies in the world, on par with the World Health Organization, their inner workings are shrouded in a great deal of secrecy. Only mages archmage or higher are ever hired there. They only contract with companies that agree to have all employees tested and only those with zero magic are allowed to work there in a service capacity. This is just proof they cannot be trusted. ~ Info on the Freedom from Magic website

  I'll be happy if I never see anything that gory again.

  The images kept flashing in my mind, even by Saturday, as I wiped down the counter. Other cops had showed up, then Blaise, the medical examiner, but this time he had only enough time to cast a quick glance at me before he was pulled into the scene.

  Was it a crime scene? Did that qualify?

  I'd spent the next hour in a tent scratching my head until it bled. The pain had been a nice distraction from the memories. Too bad it didn't work now.

  The rest of the crowd had been very subdued and our team losing didn't help. Either way I was glad to be home that evening.

  To my relief, my second to last week of police duty went quietly. We agreed to let me have next Friday off, though Laurel reminded me to come and turn in my equipment that day. Either way, I'd get the luxury of sleeping in. I was looking forward to that.

  No matter how hard I tried to focus on the upcoming practicals, or customers, or cleaning, the blasted images wouldn't leave my mind. Made it hard to eat and I really didn't need to lose any more weight. My clothes were falling off again. Thinking about it made me reach for another day-old muffin. I didn't really like the muffins, scones were better, but they almost never lasted to get old enough for me to justify eating.

  The jangle of the door pulled me out of my thoughts. With a sense of relief, I'd even take Shay at that moment. Instead, I looked up into a green ribbon.

  "Elsba!" I don't know why I said it or why I sounded so excited, but at least when I looked at the strange creature, I didn't see the remains of the man's body. I'd never even learned his name.

  I shook myself and forced a smile. "Hi, what can I get you?" I managed through a force of effort to say it to the man she rode on, not to her. And I didn't understand why I thought of her riding him, not him holding her. I really needed a life that didn't involve dead bodies.

  "I'm meeting a friend here, but I'll take a large mocha. And can I get Elsba a herbal tea, cool?"

  That sounded reasonable to me, especially as I was pretty sure she ate mostly meat. "Sure. Is green tea okay?"

  "Perfect."

  Kadia was taking a break down at the bank dealing with some paperwork, so I made the drinks and walked them over to them. I'd poured the tea over ice then strained it into one of our larger cups, figuring it would be easier for her to drink out of.

  "Thank you," he said as I set the drinks down. Elsba slithered off of him and I watched, fascinated. She had tiny hands that normally leaned up against her body. They looked like bird claws as she latched onto the rim of the cup and licked at the liquid.

  The jangle of the door interrupted my fascinated focus, and I resented having to drag my eyes away, but froze as Scott Randolph walked in.

  "You live here? In Rockway?" The words came out shocked, and I felt my face heat up. I had a sudden wish for the earth to open up and swallow me. For a second, in my embarrassment, I thought I felt the ground tremble, but that was just me being an idiot. I recovered with, "Hi, what can I get you?"

  He'd paused just far enough in that the door had closed behind him and looked at me. "You were with Sam dealing with crap out at the fairgrounds. What are you doing working here? Police can't pay that little. And why aren't you marked?"

  The questions threw me off my practiced patter and annoyance slipped out. "I'm not marked because I'm not a mage, duh. See the short hair and lack of tattoo? And I'm not a cop, I'm an intern. You noticed I didn't have a gun or badge? Or was that too subtle for you in your state of rage to catch? After all, you seemed more concerned about how to kill people than what the people there to help were doing." It wasn't exactly fair, but he'd annoyed me. What was it with people and marking? I was no more a mage than I was the president of the US, who couldn't be a magic user due to the twenty-eighth amendment.

  Elsba's mage choked on a laugh. "You being a jerk again, Scott? Seems to me she isn't all that intimidated by the great Scott Randolph."

  "Well I had to look up who he was, so not really." I was so lucky my nose wasn't growing from all the lying I was doing. "Besides the actor that played him was better looking."

  At that the man at the table gave up and just laughed, Scott looked both embarrassed and annoyed, and finally sighed. "I'm sorry. I was being a jerk both times I met you. And I just assumed you were a mage, you-" he broke off and shook his head. "Never mind. I'm getting old. Too much time spent manipulating quarks." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a ten. "Could I get a large coffee with a splash of hazelnut in it? Please?"

  "Sure." I took the money and went to make his drink, though I tried really hard to hear what they were talking about. But mostly the other guy just seemed to be teasing Scott. Even the familiar laughed at him. When I brought over the drink and set it down, I tried to give him the change.

  "Keep it. You earned it."

  "Thanks." I started to turn away, but the need to know once again was an urge I couldn't ignore. "If you don't mind, I would like to ask you a question." My voice came out more aggressive than I intended, but I held his gaze.

  "As long as you don't want an autograph, go for it," he replied, his voice gruff. I watched his friend snicker and I swear Elsba was laughing too.

  "Why would I want your autograph? I didn't even know you were a real person until this week."

  "Merlin, I need to keep her around to burst your ego." I glanced at him, I really did need to figure out his name, but oh well. "Please ask, young lady. I'm ecstatic to see what you prick his self-inflated pride with next."

  Scott shot his companion a dirty look, which only made the man laugh harder. Holding up his hand he offered it to me. "I'm Sloan Michaels. Long-time friend of this reprobate here. And you are?"

  I fumbled for a minute, then shook it. People didn't usually introduce themselves so formally. "Oh, Cori Munroe. And reprobate? At first, I thought he was the head of a mage biker gang. Then I found out he was a scientist. Now I'm not sure what he is." I looked at Scott, head tilted. "What, or who are you?"

  He glowered, but it didn't have much heat. "I don't usually have to justify my existence to wait staff." He paused and looked at me. "But I guess you aren't that." He frowned again peering at me. "You sure you're not a mage?"

  I wanted to groan. This was getting old. "If I am, I'm barely a hedige as I'm not old enough to be a cron
e. I haven't emerged or experienced anything that might equate to emerging outside a sneezing fit. So yes."

  "Huh. I'm probably just tired. Dealing with those idiots all week is exhausting." He narrowed his eyes at Sloan. "And don't get me started on you or that legless menace you seem to like."

  Elsba just laughed at him, then went back to lapping at her tea.

  "Oh sit. Your hovering over me doesn't help," he snapped, waving me to a seat. I looked around; the store was quiet, and Kadia would be back any moment, so I grabbed a chair and swung it over. "Not sure why I'm telling you all this, but might as well. Not like it's a big secret. Yes, I am, or was, a scientist. With a PhD in theoretical physics. The DoD had me working in a small lab on stuff for the space station. All hush-hush stuff, boring really, but being able to monitor and manipulate quarks to create some new elements was kinda cool. What that meant is I knew how to use my magic to move very small things and make very big differences with a minuscule offering." He stopped and looked at Sloan. "Tell her your degree."

  Sloan laughed. "He just wants to put me in the spotlight. I'm a chiropractor by trade. But while I got the medical degree, I'm not good at the mental high-end stuff. If I can't see it, I can't manipulate it. Scott here can manipulate what he only thinks exists. I prefer bones and muscles. They're at least visible." He shrugged. "My draft was served doing basic clinic duty on a base in the middle east. Elsba loved it. The heat and lots of creatures to eat."

  The creature nodded her head up and down. There was no escaping that was what she did. Me, I tried to resist scratching my head. It would wait until I could step out back and shed another layer of dandruff.

  "So, working with imaginary particles gave you the knowledge of how to kill people?" I expected him to avoid the question or be obtuse. The movie and reports made it sound like he'd been very good at killing them. If it was a bit over the top in the movie, I blamed that on Hollywood.

  Sloan choked on another laugh. Scott got a funny look in his eye and Sloan quit laughing, leaning back and holding his cup. "Do you know the real reason they require education for mages over hedgies, and try to encourage mages at any rank to attend the training classes?" Scott asked as he refocused on me.

  I shrugged. "Control over mages."

  They both barked out laughs that had no humor in them.

  "Your cynicism isn't far wrong but that's only part of it. Magic is vast and we don't understand it all yet. Did you know that we theorize the emergence and the strange things that happen with it are your body instinctively learning how to make offerings, how to control what magic they have available to them?"

  I shook my head mute, surprised by this idea.

  "It's true. Do they still teach about the Age of Awakening in high school?"

  "Sure. But it's only a month, mostly talking about the appearance of magic and all the mages that died trying to learn how to control it. There's lots of focus on the greats of that time. The people who worked out how to use it." I shrugged. "For the most part they expect us to memorize names. Who did what. Like Thomas Malthus and the conservation conversion of cellular energy to magical energy. Napoleon and the first Mage war. What battles he used them as shock troops."

  Scott sneered. Or at least I think that was what it was. It sure wasn't a smile. "They don't mention all the people that died from mages playing with their new powers. It was a lot. Most mages only get the dark secrets if they go for their bachelors, then they are required to take the course. Write papers and learn just how horrible we were. It's one of the reasons every government in the world has such strict controls and the rules of using magic users in battles…" He trailed off and shook his head. "That doesn't matter. The answer to your question is you need to know how science works to use magic. A Fire mage doesn't just create flame, he actually speeds up molecules to make them burn. A Water mage has an affinity to the H2O molecule, but if they don't understand how it works, they can accidentally create H2O2 instead. Many have. It's why all mages have hard science degrees. The more you know the more dangerous and efficient you are."

  Sloan sighed. "It's also why the government requires more draft service from merlins. It isn't so they can do awesome and great things." He waved one hand through the air in a flourish. "It's so they completely understand how easily they can kill or destroy without meaning to." His smile was bitter. "Welcome to the reality of being a mage."

  That threw me and I leaned back, considering. The odd idea that maybe Stevie had been killed by a mage, a merlin, seeped into my head. The sound of the door opening and a customer coming in pulled me away for a bit.

  When I had dealt with the customer and did a bit more cleaning up, I came back over. They didn't welcome me, but they didn't object when I sat down on the chair. "Okay. I can understand that. But what was the whole BAM thing? You aren't the leader of a biker gang?"

  Sloan snickered, hiding his face in his coffee. Elsba had disappeared, probably under his coat. Was she cold or warm blooded? Or did that even apply to her?

  Scott sighed. "I guess technically I am, maybe. More accurately, I'm the CEO and CFO. I try to keep them out of trouble, pay bail, hire lawyers, and occasionally manage to keep them from getting in major trouble. Really, they would have been better finding a spirit mage like that lady cop." He shrugged. "Most of them are people who did their time and came out scarred or broken and have a hard time with the day to day world. Some just are tired of the grind and walked away. The few that are really broken only rarely come in for the big events like that." He snorted. "They pay me good money to play babysitter a few times a year when there's any level of organized event." He cast me a sharp smile. "So, if I'm done baring my soul to you?"

  I rose. "Sure. I was just curious. Thanks for answering. And I'm glad no one got seriously hurt the other night. We'll be closing in about an hour. Next drink is on me." I headed back to the counter wondering where in the world Kadia was as I finished stocking stuff. I needed to scratch my head like crazy and I didn't want to leave the counter uncovered.

  Chapter 33

  The twenty-eighth amendment limits the president to no more than two terms and prevents him from being any rank of mage. To even run for president, you must be tested by the OMO and they must verify you have no magical power. This was made necessary by the actions of Franklin D Roosevelt after it was found that he had read the minds of German officials, knew about the Holocaust, and purposefully hid the information as well as information that could have prevented Pearl Harbor. ~History of Magic

  This time the craziness didn't happen to or around me, but poor Kadia.

  Lawrence called as I was about to shut down early and go find her. A trip to the bank should have taken her about fifteen minutes, but she'd been gone over an hour and a half before he called. Turns out she'd tripped walking out of the bank, twisted her knee, fell, and slammed her head into a column which had caused her to be so disoriented she started making crazy offerings and setting things on fire, like her clothes. It had taken EMT's to get her calmed down and sedated. Then they took her to the hospital to get her knee worked on. She'd be out for another week, then back with a brace.

  Molly agreed to let me run the place myself, which suited me just fine. Carl and Lori made more work than they were worth. Besides, Sunday mornings were usually quiet.

  I'd gotten tired of the normal fare on TV and had it playing old episodes of Law & Order: Mage Unit, which at least was never boring though surely most of it was an exaggeration of how powers worked. That, or they all had familiars and chests of genetic material.

  The morning had been quiet, Sundays were, so I'd worked on studying for the practicals exam. The paramedic certification test would be the week after I graduated, but I'd gotten back the scores on the test for my EMT certification. I'd passed. Not perfect, but darn close. Meds were the only thing that I had trouble with, so I was going back over all the variations of meds and making sure I was good at spelling and pronouncing them. So many were so close that you needed to be careful.


  I looked up, standing as I did so, to assist the next customer. When the chief stepped in with her husband behind her, I frowned.

  "Morning Chief Amosen, Captain Martinez. What can I get you?" I knew what she would probably order but I didn't think the fire chief had ever come in. I'd seen him a few times, but I had no idea what he drank, if anything.

  "My usual please, Cori. Martin, you want your hot chocolate?"

  "Yes, with a shot of mint in it," he replied, his soft voice almost funny out of such a thick man. Where Laurel was all wiry muscle, Martin was only about two inches taller than her 5'7" but he was at least six inches wider, all muscle. I had no problems believing he could carry a man out of a burning building.

  Laurel paid for the drinks and looked around the empty shop. At ten-thirty church was still in session. Most of the customers would show up around eleven and then I'd be busy until two, when I would shut down. At least working by myself the tips would be good.

  "I was wondering if I could talk to you. Seems pretty quiet."

  My stomach twisted hard into a knot, but I nodded. "Sure." She headed over to the table where her husband sat. Oddly enough it was the same one that Scott and Sloan had been at the other day.

  I cleaned up from making the drinks and headed over, sinking into the chair. "If you're telling me I'm fired you could have just told me not to show up Monday." I tried to make it into a joke, but the churning I my stomach didn't let me make it as light-hearted as I tried.

  "Do you really think I'd do that to you?" There might have been a note of hurt in her voice, but what did I know?

  "Expecting the worst is easier than hoping for anything good," I observed, sidestepping answering her.

  "True. But no. If you were interested in going through the police academy, I'd sponsor you. But now this is about Harold Court."