by TR Cameron
Her tears had subsided as she’d made the drinks and now, her deep eyes stared into his. “So. What happened? No one knew.”
He shook his head. “Someone knew. Someone set me up.”
She nodded. “Okay. But that’s not an answer.”
“Yeah, I’m aware.” He took a sip of his drink, winced a little at the bite of the bourbon, and cleared his throat as the liquor’s heat spread in his chest. “I was more or less minding my own business. One of my people had been targeted by a couple of toughs on the street, and I was looking for clues. I hoped to not find out that it was another Atlantean but was fairly sure that was what would happen.”
“So, it’s a magic thing?” Her attitude toward his powers and his ancestry were the same as her attitude toward everything—live, let live, and be chill about it. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her, a classic case of seeking what you lack in another. Hidden envy isn’t the best relationship glue.
Memories of the many other times she’d said those words inspired a small smile. “Yeah, a magic thing in part. But it’s more a power thing. The strong taking advantage of the weak.”
“Which, of course, you couldn’t let lie, hero that you are.” She grinned at yet another refrain from the past.
His expression matched hers. “Well, you know…sometimes, you have to step up.”
“Not if you merely learn to be.”
“I’m still too stupid.”
Her laugh was the joyful chime he remembered. “Maybe it’s good that some things never change. Get back to your story.”
He took a deep sip of the coffee before he continued. “I was asking questions, and all I can assume is that they reached the wrong ears. Which suggests a boss of some kind, because the level of toughs we’re talking about wouldn’t have the pull to have me sent to Trevilsom. Hell, I can’t imagine anyone in this city having that much mojo, but anything’s possible.” He shrugged. “So, there I was doing my thing, hitting up people I trusted for information, and everything seemed normal. I went into the Shark to chat with a few more.”
Sienna interrupted, “I always loved that place.”
“Me too. I guess you haven’t been there lately.”
“No, why?”
“It’s different now. It looks like a mafia hangout from a movie or something. But back then, I thought it was safe. All I remember is going in the front door, heading to the bar, and collapsing as my body quit listening to me. Some kind of spell, I’m sure, caught me when my confidence lowered my defenses. I was rushed into the back, a bag was thrown over my head, and I lost track of things.”
She shook her head. “That’s insane.”
“Right?” he replied with a rueful laugh. “My next moment of awareness was when the Warden at Trevilsom took possession of me. My two captors claimed I had used my magic to murder innumerable people and handed over what looked like an evidence booklet. I couldn’t say anything in my own defense as my body was still locked. No one asked, either. In fact, no one spoke to me at all the entire time I was there.” Except for the screams and the whispers.
Her face twisted in sympathy and her eyes glistened. “I’m so sorry, Tay.”
With a sigh, he forced another smile. “I lived and maintained my sanity. That’s what matters.”
“How’d you get out?”
“That’s the weird part. Someone broke me out but they weren’t the ones who wanted me out. They were only hirelings. And I have no idea who that person in the background is either.”
Sienna shook her head. “It’s bizarre. Okay, I assume you came to me for a reason other than to catch up. What can I do to help?”
“What’s been going on while I’ve been gone? You know some of the people and some of the places. Have you seen anything that might be a starting point?”
She frowned as she considered the question. “Well, of your three amigos, Jackson and Dray fell off the radar right after you did. But Parker is still around. I’ve noticed him once or twice in the last couple of months, but not in any of the places where we used to see him—random bars, really. He’s changed, though, and looks like he came into some cash. He dresses better and flashes a money clip. You know the type.”
He nodded. “Okay, that’s something solid. Where am I most likely to find him, do you think?”
An elegant hand with pink-painted nails lifted her cup to pale lips. His old habits were returning and top of the list was the way he’d spend minutes at a time simply watching her, entranced. “Well, you could hang around the bars where I saw him, but there’s no guarantee he’ll show. Maybe you should go to the Dragons instead.”
Tanyith leaned back in the chair and stared at her. “I’m an idiot for not thinking of that. It could be that I didn’t keep all my sanity.”
Sienna laughed again. “Well, now you know.” She turned serious. “Be a little more careful this time, will you?”
It was a dismissal and he couldn’t fault her for wanting to get him out of her kitchen. His appearance had clearly been a shock. He stood and she rose with him. She stepped in to accept his hug. “Thanks, See.”
She gave him a final squeeze and pushed him toward the exit. When he was out on the porch, she spoke quickly. “Once you’ve got this behind you, think about coming back to say hi.” The door closed before he could answer, probably before she could catch his smile. One more reason to get to the bottom of this garbage fast. A quick stop in the backyard to unearth my emergency cache, another to buy some decent clothes, and on to the Drunken Dragons.
Chapter Six
When Cali finally made it out of her apartment, the morning sun had given way to an afternoon shower. The walk was more enjoyable for it with an umbrella to keep her dry and the rain limiting the crowd on the sidewalks and streets. She stopped in front of the St Louis Cathedral and admired the points and spires of its gothic architecture. A small crowd had gathered nearby, most likely one of the religiously affiliated tours that seemed to somehow arrive almost every time she did.
She didn’t identify as religious but harbored goodwill and vague envy for those who did. A higher power to bring one’s troubles to sounded like a great idea but she hadn’t found one that called to her yet. Once a month or so, she wound up at a service of some kind and tried to listen for the call that others talked about. It had yet to arrive but she never failed to enjoy the unity of purpose that resonated through the places of worship.
In a non-deific way, however, the person she was headed to visit was her higher power. Her parents had appointed Emalia as her unofficial guardian while they were alive and since their deaths, the woman had been her guide, teacher, and confidante. She had understood the young woman’s need to chart her own path and offered assistance without restriction. At the same time, her mentor wasn’t at all hesitant to share judgments—both good and bad—about her ward’s actions. She was one of the people who invoked her full first name more often than she’d prefer. Regardless of issues of legality or age, she still thought of her parents’ friend as her guardian.
Emalia held court in a modest shop along the perimeter of Jackson Square festooned with astrological symbols and a cartoonish crystal ball. Cali had watched through a spyhole from the back more than once while she used tarot cards, runes, or small bones to predict the future of those who paid for the privilege. They didn’t realize the woman was magic and her insights were often accurate, although inevitably veiled. She had been the girl’s sole source of magical instruction, as her parents had stubbornly refused to teach her until she reached adulthood. Fortunately, her mentor did not share their worries on that matter.
Cali checked to be sure no clients were present and pushed through the outer door. The cool interior was all black, purple, and velvet and the small round table and chairs in the center the only furniture. The room was a narrow rectangle that stretched toward the back and sounds coming from behind the heavy curtain that formed the visible back wall revealed the presence of another person.
A
deep, spooky voice emanated from that direction. “Who dares to enter my domain uninvited? A doom upon you, a doom, I say!” She looked up at the almost invisible camera mounted in the rear corner of the room and extended her tongue slowly. The vocal darkness was abandoned as the other woman laughed. “Impudent whelp. Get in here.”
She pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the back. Emalia lived above the shop in an equally minimalist apartment, and this area served as her living room. An electric kettle burbled happily, and she was already pulling out a tea set. Her faith in leaves and water as a key component of magic was as unflinching as her posture. She sat on the edge of a wingback leather chair and gestured for her guest to take the other. Exactly like always. The ritual never failed to center her mind, and in many ways, this was her true sanctuary.
“So. What brings you here today?” Her mentor’s piercing gaze suggested that she already knew.
Cali played her part of the game. “Oh, nothing.”
Emalia waved her hand. “Pish. If what I’ve heard is correct, you were in a fight. I thought I felt magical emanations that evening.” The teacher was always attuned to the student, she’d said, and she had no reason to disbelieve her. It was one of the reasons that when she was truly up to something even slightly nefarious, she did it the human way.
“Yeah. It was only an idiot who turned out to have more idiots as friends.”
The other woman shook her head. “Magical idiots.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded. “Not so good at it, though.”
The woman poured the tea from the teapot into two cups and extended one to her. The herbal scent wafted teasingly with notes of cinnamon and anise and something that defied description and would go unnoticed by a human. She raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. It will help your magic replenish faster.” That’s probably only superstition, but it is delicious.
“So, what are we learning today?”
“What do you want to know?”
Cali considered before replying. “I think I need to improve my skills in illusion. They worked fine against the idiots, but there’s a place I’d like to take a look at without anyone inside taking a look at me.”
“You have heard of windows, right?”
She threw an overdone petulant glare at the woman and put on her patented dumb teenager voice. “They were, like, bricked up, okay?”
Her mentor’s laugh was dry and brittle. “So, illusion, then. Clear your mind….”
An hour later, they were done and Cali was drained. Another round of tea and an admonition to drink it all followed, and she felt almost human—well, half-human, which meant herself—by the time it was finished. The question took her by surprise.
“Where are you going to sneak into?”
“The Shark Nightclub.”
The teacup in Emalia’s hand rattled against the saucer as she lowered it to the table. “That’s a dangerous place. How do you know about it?”
Her look of concern demanded truth. “Dasante noticed a man watching me on the corner. I followed him for a while and that’s where he wound up.”
She shook her head and muttered a touch too quietly to make out what she said. Abruptly, she rose and hesitated for a moment like she was unsure of why she’d stood, then walked toward the closed door that concealed the staircase. “Come with me, Caliste.”
Damn. What did I do now? She hurried after the other woman’s deliberate stride. The stairs ended in her dressing area, home to a small vanity and a wardrobe. She pointed at the room’s only chair and commanded, “Sit.”
Cali sat. The wardrobe creaked as its door opened, and her guardian rummaged around inside, muttering under her breath again. She caught a couple of words this time, including her mother’s name, and her interest ratcheted up a notch. When the other woman turned back to her, an ornate wooden box rested in her hands and a shiny golden lock dangled from the clasp. It was rectangular in the opposite direction from the apartment, more wide than long. She estimated her fingers would barely clear the top if she pressed her lower palm against the bottom edge.
The vanity was free of any clutter, as was every surface in both the public and private areas of the dwelling aside from the orb on the table downstairs. Her teacher set the box on it, positioning it so the lock was directly in front of her. Cali lifted her hand, and a sharp, “Not yet,” stopped it in mid-air.
Emalia sighed. “We have reached this moment more quickly than I’d hoped and far more quickly than your parents wished. But you’ve been noticed despite our efforts, and so the schedule must be accelerated. You will need to come more often for training, beginning immediately.”
She groaned, which drew a hint of a smile from the other woman. The warmth in her eyes as her gaze settled on her hadn’t reached her voice, which was thick with concern. Cali felt like a child again, with her mother looking down at her. “What should I do?” The question was small and big—about the lock and about, well, everything.
“Wrap your hand around the lock and clear your mind.” She complied and packed thoughts away the same way she did at the dojo. Her face must have shown the process because she had barely finished when Emalia spoke again. “Now, concentrate on your parents. Imagine that they are right here, in this room.” The memory was painful. There had been no opportunity to say goodbye and no ceremony to mark their passing, only Emalia’s caring voice telling her they’d been killed by unknown enemies according to witnesses Cali wasn’t permitted to speak to. For a while, she’d believed they would reappear and simply walk into the tavern one day, but time had eroded that dream.
Words of magic floated from the other woman’s lips and washed over her like a soft breeze. The lock grew warm before it clicked open. She removed it and lowered the hasp slowly. At Emalia’s nod, she lifted the lid. Three objects lay inside. Two were silver rings that seemed like copies of the ones she wore on her thumbs. The other was a pendant that appeared to be identical to the one around her neck save for the lack of a chain. Her fingers were drawn to them. In fact, the items seemed to tug at her entire body. What the hell is this? She dragged her gaze away and looked up. “What is going on?”
The woman knelt and reached out for her hand. The contrast between her own smooth flesh and her guardian’s wrinkled skin was notable and distracted her scattered mind for a moment. My mother’s would be halfway between. Her mentor said, “You mustn’t be upset about what I tell you. It was for your own good and still would be if it had succeeded in keeping you hidden. But, since it hasn’t, we must adopt a different strategy.”
Cali nodded. Way to set me up to be angry. “I’ll do my best.”
“The necklace and rings you wear are not merely mementos. They are magical items with a singular purpose. They’ve kept your magic at a level where it wouldn’t be detected by those who threatened your safety—those who hunted your family after your departure from the Atlantean homeland.”
The words didn’t register. “Are you saying they disguise my power?” She’d always considered her magic above average, not necessarily in absolute strength but in its ability to be used in so many different ways.
Emalia sighed. “No, I’m saying they suppress it. Child, you are far more powerful than you think you are.” Again, she reached for the items and again, the older woman stopped her. “Taking them now would do you no good. A ritual is required. We will meet at the threshold between today and tomorrow in St Louis One.”
Cali’s brain began to spin. She’d been deceived—arguably for her own benefit and by people she loved and trusted—but she absolutely hated being lied to. Emalia’s warning made perfect sense since she was well aware of her opinions on that issue. She rose abruptly and headed to the stairs. Softer footsteps followed her, and as she pushed aside the curtain to move toward the entrance, a soft voice trailed after. “Your feelings are valid, Caliste, but do not forget that you don’t yet know everything. This wasn’t a choice made without ample cause.”
She didn’t slam the d
oor, which felt like a victory of restraint. Her feet guided her toward the tavern while her mind chewed on a single question. How in the world could having less magical ability be safer than having more?
Chapter Seven
Zeb yelled, "Cali, where's your damn brain, girl?" His gruff voice carried across to where she gathered the pile of bar rags she'd dropped.
She lifted them, careful to extend a particular finger in a way he'd notice, and evaded two drunk wizards who waved wands about before they stowed them on the shelf under the bar. "You're probably not high up enough to see it. I could get you another crate to stand on."
His glare was betrayed by the upward quirk at the corners of his lips, and she grinned as she turned to stare at the main room. Sunday nights weren't the busiest, so there were spaces at the tables here and there and the tall seats running along the bar were only half-full.
He had noticed her preoccupation when she'd arrived and acknowledged it with the tilt of his head but had respectfully not pushed her on it. That hadn't prevented the almost constant flow of comments about her missing mind, though. If her count was correct, they'd now reached double digits in only a couple of hours.
Her quick gaze searched the crowd for troublemakers, happy to find that none of the usual suspects—or unusual suspects, as Dasante described them when he occasionally hung out during her shifts—were present. Finally, maybe I can have a relaxing evening in this place. Heaven knows I need to get a handle on the fact that I'm meeting my mentor in a cemetery at midnight and that's only the smallest part of the weirdness to come.
The door slammed against the wall to signal the entry of someone who hadn't been to the Drunken Dragons Tavern enough times to know better. About a third of the crowd turned, as did Zeb. Her gaze had already been on the entrance, so she saw the woman before any of the others did. She seemed of average height with short black hair swept to one side, tanned skin, a sleek and shiny brown leather jacket over a dark green blouse, blue jeans, and fashionable boots that matched the coat.
