by TR Cameron
Tanyith took a sip as was expected and immediately began to cough as the combination of alcohol and spice attacked his body. It was completely unlike anything he’d ever tasted and when he recovered, the bartender was grinning. “It takes some getting used to. You did well for a first try.”
He wiped his eyes and nodded. “Thanks. I think.”
“I’m Zeb. This is my place. You’re welcome here.”
“Good to know.” He felt like he’d passed a test. “Can I ask you a question?”
The proprietor grinned. “Right after you’ve paid for your drink.”
With a laugh, he handed a ten over and got four back, which was a damn bargain for both the city and the quality of what he’d received. “Did a few street punks with delusions of adequacy come in a few minutes before I did?”
A snort came from his right and a female voice said, “Oh yeah, this guy will fit in perfectly at the Dragons. You sound exactly like Zeb.” He turned to see striking red hair and once he got past that, realized it was the person he’d seen outside The Shark a couple of days before.
“Hey.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not good at talking to girls, huh? That’s fine. Neither is Zeb.” She spun away to respond to a customer, and he looked back to find the dwarf shaking his head.
Tanyith heard long-suffering and fond pride in his words. “She’s something, that one.”
“Clearly. So, the toughs?”
Zeb pointed with his chin. Tanyith followed the line to the far wall of the room where the foursome sat. He swiveled back to the bar, took another sip of his drink, and relished the burn now that he knew to expect it. There’s more than enough time to deal with them after. “Regulars?”
“Nah. I’ve seen ʼem in here once or twice, tops. Do you have some business with them?”
“You might say that, I suppose. Or maybe I do. I don’t know yet.”
The bartender’s eyebrows dipped to make a V pointed at his nose. “We welcome all kinds here. There’s no discrimination as long as everyone follows the rules. That includes those who think others aren’t following a rule that’s important to them.”
He smiled. Could be those tales weren’t all only words. “Understood. I can’t speak for those boys, but I only want to talk. I think, though, that they might be here to talk to the owner if you know what I mean.”
The dwarf nodded. “We get visits from all sides now and again. I treat ʼem to a drink, tell ʼem they’re welcome to come here but so is everyone else, and that Valerie is all the protection I need.” He gestured at the battleax hung over the bar, which Tanyith had noticed about a second and a half after entering. “So, they go away until the next one thinks they have a better argument.”
“Do you have a sense of who has claimed what turf?”
He shrugged. “Nope. And I don’t care much. No one messes with me and I don’t mess with anyone. Live and let live.”
The next sip of the beer went down smoother, and his body was unanimous in its appreciation from head to stomach. “I really wish I could be like you. But some wrongs require righting.”
The bartender stroked his beard. “Ah, so you’ve been wronged, have you?”
“You could say that.”
“By those in the corner?”
He pursed his lips in thought. “Not specifically. But I’m very sure they’re part of it. At the very least, they’re the next step in finding out who’s responsible.”
“You seem like you’re okay now. Is it really worth it?” The server’s voice was startling when she spoke from behind him. This beer is clearly more powerful than it seems. I’d better stop. “He does this with everyone. It’s easiest to avoid eye contact and back away slowly.”
They all laughed, and Tanyith rose. His stance was solid and he was thankful for the woman’s interruption. He pointed a finger the dwarf. “Don’t think I’m unaware of what you were doing, you subtle saboteur.”
Zeb grinned. “Peace, friend. Ideally, for everyone.”
He rotated carefully to face the common room and located his targets, who talked loudly and gestured expansively in the corner. “That’s always my first choice. Sadly, some fools won’t play along.”
The voice of reason from behind the bar followed him as he walked through the crowd. “Who’s the bigger fool, then?”
Tanyith shook his head to brush the challenge off. He arrived unnoticed and tapped the one who had stepped forward as leader earlier on the shoulder. “Hey, buddy, can I ask you a question?”
Chapter Eleven
At a chin tilt from Zeb, Cali paralleled the stranger one row over as he headed to the group in the corner. Too bad I had to leave Fyre in my room. I’m sure he could diffuse any situation he wanted to. She laughed at the image of the rottweiler-sized Draksa standing on a table in the middle of the Tavern and covering everyone with ice. I could yell “everyone chill” beforehand. It’d be perfect. What wasn’t perfect was the seated man’s reaction to being tapped on the shoulder.
The cowl of his hoodie spun outward as he launched to his feet and stood nose to nose with the stranger. “Who’s asking?”
She was an expert at using a smile as an instigation, and she heard the telltale of the tactic in his voice. “I’ll take that as permission. I’m John. John Doe. I wondered if you’d care to tell me who’s in charge of your little gang.”
“I am. Now, step away before you end up with that name on your toe tag.”
Cali moved around the table and put her back against the wall so she could see their faces. The stranger didn’t look even remotely worried. “I’d be happy to do so, but I really need that answer first.”
“You won’t get it.” The other three men rose to their feet as well, and she said a silent thanks to the universe that this group hadn’t been allowed to run a tab, unlike Jarten.
“Would you care to continue the discussion outside?” The stranger jerked his head toward the door.
“Let’s do it here.” The gang leader drew a fist back and she slid smoothly between them to grab and pinch each of their near arms as she shouted, “Stop.” Both men gave tiny yelps.
She tasted black licorice and ash from the street tough. He was ready to fight. The stranger was lemon with a touch of anise, a testament to his determination and willingness to back it up with force. She glared at the man to her right. “You’ve been here before. You know better than to mix it up inside. Don’t make Zeb take Valerie down.” She looked at the stranger, who up close and from the front was more attractive than she’d realized. The dirty brown pompadour and beard seemed less scraggly from this angle—more like a Viking than the poser she’d categorized him as on the first impression. “You get the benefit of the doubt. No fighting in here. Period. Either settle with words or head outside.”
The thug shoved her hand away and pushed past toward the door. The stranger stepped aside and watched the others file out after their leader, carbon copies in dirty jeans and dark hoodies. He shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “I didn’t get my answer. I guess I have to go ask again.”
She shook her head. “Zeb would say you don’t need to.”
“He’d be wrong. The path I’m on goes through those guys.” He walked toward the exit and his posture changed from casual to determined with each step.
“Dammit.” She looked at Zeb, who gave her a small head shake. Yeah, I know it’s not my fight. But I didn’t read any dishonesty. So, unless he’s deceiving himself, he has valid reasons. She sighed, jogged to the bar, and spun her empty serving tray through the air to land in Zeb’s waiting hands. Cali yanked the door open and slipped through. Although the street was empty, sounds emanated from the alley that bordered it to the left, so she headed in that direction and looked around the corner.
The stranger stood in the mouth of the corridor, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and the others faced him in a rough semicircle. The passage was narrow enough to prevent his enemies from attacking all at once with fists but if they had magic
, that advantage would be lost. She’d arrived as the leader of the four had finished talking but hadn’t made out what he’d said.
The man she was concerned for sounded exasperated. “Look, this is a really simple question. Who’s your boss? That’s what I need to find out. You’re in the clear. It’s only a name.”
One of the subordinates sneered. “We’re not telling you anything, convict.” The leader laughed, apparently at the stranger’s reaction. “Oh yeah, we know about you, jailbird. We heard your brain is mush. Now, we’ll have to show you what happens to people who mess with us.”
Their opponent shrugged and his hands emerged from his pockets. She saw the slight flex in the back of his knees and the shuffle that reset his balance. The leader nodded, and the slimy one who had spoken rushed forward and a glitter of steel appeared in his hand. The man didn’t move until the last minute when he shot his right hand out in a fast punch aimed at his attacker’s wrist. A crunching sound echoed from the walls when his knuckles snapped the bone. The knife clattered on the asphalt and its wielder backpedaled, cradling his damaged limb.
“We don’t have to—” Attacks from the other three cut his words off. The biggest one slid in with a boxer’s grace and landed two rapid jabs to the man’s chest that thrust him back. That put the giant thug in the way of the magic the fourth member of the group launched, a force blast that shoved him stumbling into the wall of the alley.
Cali rolled her eyes. Nice coordination, fellas. While it was likely the defender could handle this group, uneven odds irked her. Three on two seemed far fairer than three on one. She stepped around the corner and threw a punch in the air. A force fist pounded into the stomach of the one who’d inadvertently targeted his own ally. He doubled over and crumpled in a protective curl. Damn. I gotta remember I’m stronger than I was. Before, she could rely on her magic to be powerful enough to damage someone but not enough to really injure them. Now, her simple effort at distraction had taken him out of the fight. And instead of feeling subtly drained, power surged through her, promising pleasure and might if she’d let it off the leash.
Her partner had locked his sights on the enemy leader and used a sudden wind to lift objects from the alley floor and hurl them as he closed the distance separating them. Whatever attack his opponent had planned evaporated in the need to defend himself, which he did by bobbing, weaving, and occasionally summoning and throwing what looked like spheres of force magic to divert incoming projectiles off target. He held his own against the barrage until the moment the stranger’s forehead came down on his nose. For a second, he staggered, then fell on his rear end with his legs spread and eyes unfocused.
The man with the broken wrist had vanished, so only a single enemy remained active. The big man shuffled in toward her without even raising his guard. Another force fist would finish him, but the magic inside her wanted it too much so she waited. When he threw a disrespectfully slow left hook, she quick-stepped away, guided it past her with her right hand on his elbow, and caught his wrist with her left hand. She slipped her arm under his elbow to hyperextend it and used it as a lever to throw him in the direction in which she faced. He landed hard on his back beside her partner, who looked down and growled, “Run if you want to live.”
All three tried to rise, but the man pushed the enemy leader down again. “No, no, not you. We need to talk. I have a question for you.”
Cali pushed through the beaded curtain, took a seat across from the man, and handed him a hard cider. She carried a soft one for herself. He drank half of it in a long gulp and set it down with a satisfied sigh. “Thanks. I definitely needed that.”
She sipped hers slowly. Most of her mind was focused on containing the desire to use more magic. Fortunately, it was diminishing but unfortunately, it was doing so far less quickly than she’d prefer. “So. You don’t like taking advice, clearly.”
He laughed. “So some have said. I appreciate your help back there.” She’d waited while he finished with the enemy leader and sent him fleeing with threats.
“You didn’t do more damage than you needed to. I respect that.”
“There was no point. It wouldn’t have gotten me what I wanted.”
“Which was?” She took another sip and watched his eyes for any sign of deception.
“The next piece of the puzzle.” She gestured for him to continue, and he laughed. “This story only works if told from the beginning. Let’s start there. Hi, I’m Tanyith.”
She shook his extended hand, tasted cinnamon-laced vanilla that indicated he was playing a little but telling the truth. “Cali.”
“Only Cali?”
“Only Tanyith? Or, should I say, only Tanyith the convict jailbird?”
He scowled and took another sip. “Fair enough. So, a couple of years ago, I was part of a group of like-minded Atlanteans here in New Orleans.”
Cali shook her head and the barriers that appeared whenever something touched on the deaths of her parents snapped into place. “A gang, you mean.”
“Not in the same way that those idiots are in a gang.” He shrugged. “More like a club, or maybe even a team. Fair enough, we crossed legal lines here and there but never with violence and never to exploit those weaker than us. We punched up, not down.”
She stared and wished she had a reason to touch him again to assess the truth of his words. Doing it now would send entirely the wrong signals unless she admitted the purpose for it, which she wasn’t about to do. “So you say.”
Tanyith nodded. “Anyway, there were some who wanted to go in another direction and be more like the movies. La Cosa Nostra, but for NOLA.”
“You were a few decades too late to take that role from what the legends say.” The Matrangas were already part of the city’s history a century before she was born.
He shrugged. “The ones who supported that plan weren’t exactly the intellectual elite.” His laugh sounded self-deprecating. “Although maybe I’m not either. My arguing against it earned me a one-way ticket to Trevilsom.”
His breath skipped as her eyes widened. “Holy beignets, Batman. Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” He nodded with a grin and drained his glass. “I was sure I was done for. But I somehow managed to preserve my sanity, possibly because I kept a singular focus on trying to find out who put me there and why.”
“And that’s what led you to those idiots?”
“Yep. I trailed them from The Shark Nightclub, which seems to be their headquarters.”
Her eyes narrowed. There are too many coincidences for one night. “That’s an interesting story, mysterious stranger.” She rose. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave now, though.”
He complied slowly, confusion on his face. “Okay, sure.”
She led him to the front of the tavern, where only a few patrons remained and steadfastly ignored the stated closing time. On her way, she smacked a couple gently. “Get out of here, you crusty barnacles.” They laughed and the normality of it made her grin. When they reached the bar, she said, “Zeb, this is Tanyith. He was just leaving.”
The dwarf grinned. “Come back soon, Tanyith.”
Cali shook her head. “Give it a day or two, though. We’d like to keep the peace undisturbed for a while.” And I need to check you out.
A part of her thought he might protest but he simply nodded at her and waved to the bartender as he left. She leaned on the polished wood that separated them and said, “Zeb, that guy was in a gang here when my parents were killed.”
His mustache curled downward. “There’s no saying he was involved, Caliste. You can’t assume it.”
“I’m not. But I can’t ignore it, either.”
The dwarf turned to look at the now-closed door. “That’s the smart choice, I think. There’s definitely more to him than we know.”
Chapter Twelve
Cali peered through the small gap in the curtain reflected in the carefully positioned mirror. Emalia had a tourist couple in the two chairs across the table fr
om her and used runes to tell their fortunes. She’d explained to the man and woman that their auras made the heavy etched stones the only appropriate choice to truly divine what fate had in store for them.
Bored with waiting, she yawned and stretched. The adventures of the night before had delayed her sleep for a few more hours than she would have preferred, given an option. At her feet, the Draksa yawned, looked accusingly at her, and put his head back on his paws. She’d been shocked when Fyre had blocked her efforts to leave her room. It took ten minutes of frustrating communication to elicit the knowledge that he wanted to come along. She’d invested another ten to explain that the woman who owned the boarding house mustn’t know she had a pet and that he couldn’t simply walk down the street in New Orleans.
He’d responded by leaping through the room’s open window. She had panicked but watched him glide gently into the small backyard. Minutes later, she’d rushed down the stairs and out the back door in time to catch his shimmering transformation from a medium-sized dragon lizard into a large dog that most resembled a boxer. With a shake of her head and a cautioning finger pointed at him, she’d admonished, “Fine, but you’d better behave.” His doggy grin was as effective at conveying his amusement at her as the Draksa one had been. A quick stop was made to purchase a leash and a collar to obey the letter of the New Orleans leash law and the two were on their way to visit the fortune teller’s shop.
Emalia’s deep dramatic voice informed the woman that she was looking for something, which was always a good grifter technique. Everyone is looking for something. What set her guardian apart was that, most of the time, she was accurate in identifying the object and telling the customer where to find it. Whenever Cali tried to discover how she did it, her mentor merely changed the subject with a small smile. To the man, she gave advice on how to position himself for a promotion at his workplace. The two left happy.
