Stand Your Ground Hero

by Paul Duffau

  Heavy, slow footsteps came down the hall. That’d be his uncle. When they stopped at his door, his first instinct was What now? followed by a burst of annoyance. One thumping knock.

  “You got company.” Surly, as always.

  Mitch turned his head to the door. Possibilities ripped through his head. At the top of the list was Hunter. Or Mercury. That was about it. He didn’t want to see either one of them.

  “Who is it?” he shouted at the retreating footsteps. He muttered a curse, and got up. Maybe it was Mercury, that’d be easier. Plus, Hunter didn’t usually announce himself.

  He walked down the hall, keeping his weight toward the balls of his feet to minimize the sound of his approach. He rounded the corner to the living room and the front door, and stopped like he’d hit the wall, in a sudden surprise.

  Kenzie delivered a frazzled smile and a quiet hello. Jackson stood behind her wearing his best I’m not pissed, I’m just going to destroy you expression. Jackson was wearing his sports coat, a critical detail that set Mitch’s nerves buzzing. Frantically, Mitch searched his memory. Nope, he hadn’t done anything to earn Jackson’s wrath. Or, at least, nothing that stood out.

  “Hi,” he managed, acutely aware of his uncle. Simultaneously, he noted the trio of beer cans next to the man, the scattered papers, and the jarring intrusion of the television. Compared to Kenzie’s house, this was a hovel, and it was embarrassing. He shuffled his feet. He had devolved when he came home from work, changing from work clothes to tattered jeans and a shirt that was three days past needing a wash.

  “Why don’t we head out this way?” Mitch suggested, using a hitchhiker’s thumb to point toward the garage. His other safe place.

  Kenzie and Jackson both took the hint. Kenzie slowed as she came near him.

  “Not mad?” she asked.

  “Never.”

  She gave him a peck on the lips. A genuine smile that lit her eyes brightened his day.

  His uncle’s eyes almost fell out in disbelief. Mitch tilted his head like, yeah, so? and led everyone through the house. Once they were in the garage, he hit the button to run the door up. A sense of déjà vu hit him as the old door rumbled and he thought of the first time he’d seen Kenzie, finding her ID and the stun gun, realizing she was a rich girl.

  Who was standing in his grimy garage. Mitch found himself tongue-tied. Kenzie was busy looking around.

  Jackson took him off the hook. “So this is the Camaro?” He ran an appreciative hand over the front fender. Progress on restoring the car had soared after he got a job and had some money to put into it. A large chunk went into the paint job, forest green with titanium white racing stripes. “How fast have you gone?”

  “A little bit over a hundred, but she can do more.”

  “Risky.” Jackson went around the front end. “Cops love to bust a kid being dumb like that. You do all the body work?”

  “Yeah, but not the paint.”

  Jackson completed his circuit of the sports car. “You’ve done a nice job.” He changed subjects. “It’s a pretty day. I think I’ll go outside and enjoy the sun from the front walk.” His voice hardened. “Please stay in sight.”

  They both yes-sir’d him.

  Mitch reached out an arm, wrapped it around Kenzie’s waist, and pulled her to him. She felt good, close like that, cuddling. Their kiss lasted longer this time, and was still way too short. “You okay?” he asked her.

  Kenzie snuggled into his chest. “Are you?” Her bear hug of a squeeze threatened to expel all the air from his lungs.

  “What happened?”

  Her head rocked against his pecs. Mitch glanced down, saw a tear coursing down her cheek.

  “Hey, now, what’s wrong?”

  Kenzie lifted one shoulder and spoke in a halting voice. “I was . . . worried about you.”

  Mitch stared at the ceiling for a brief second. “What did Hunter do?”

  Kenzie stiffened in his arms.

  “Or what did he say he did.” Mitch had a strong suspicion that he already knew this answer.

  “He hates you.”

  “Did he tell you? About making me spy for his father?” Admitting it tore something inside. His pride, what was left of it.

  Kenzie pulled back and stared up at him. “Why would you do that?” Her voice implied he was a bigger idiot than he already considered himself.

  “I didn’t see an alternative. That simple.” Mitch attempted to pull her close again, but Kenzie resisted, so he let her go. “Everybody and their brother wants to nail me to a wall. Lassiter, Hunter’s dad, your dad . . .” His voice trailed off. Not really true about her dad, but clarifications would only complicate things.

  “He’s out to get you. Whatever he wanted you to do is a trap, can’t you see that?”

  Mitch curled up one side of his face in mock surprise. “Really?”

  Kenzie reacted to the sarcasm with anger, stepping up to him until she was right under his chin. Mitch leaned back against the car, using his hips to support him.

  “You big dummy, he only cares for himself. He’s as bad as the rest of them, all of them in all the Families. They just want power and to be, to be, I don’t know, some kind of gods to the rest of the people, except they hate regular people like you, and you need to take this seriously.”

  Kenzie ran out of breath. While she inhaled, Mitch slipped into the short gap in her diatribe. “You’re cuddly.” He gave her his best grin.

  She flushed high on her cheeks. “Quit fooling around. I’m trying to help you.”

  “I know.” Mitch locked eyes with her. “I know,” he repeated, more quietly. “There’s a lot of moving parts to this whole thing, and it’s not just Hunter or his family or, heck, yours. Someone’s playing games behind the scenes, maybe more than one someone. There was no reason for an attack on your mom and dad, or to hit me at the same time—”

  Wrinkles showed between her eyes.

  “Nobody told you? Your dad didn’t?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “When your family was attacked, someone clobbered me with what felt like a crowbar. It happened in a cop car”—he was deliberately vague on the location—“so it got radioed in. I guess your dad has a permanent alert on me—”

  He broke off as a BMW with heavily tinted windows pulled up across the street.

  “That,” he said, stiffening, “is going to be big trouble.”

  Kenzie spun around. “What?”

  “That’s Hunter’s ride, pretty sure.” As if it had been waiting for the introduction, the driver’s side door punched open and Hunter jumped out, crossing the street in rapid strides, with the blackest scowl Mitch had ever seen stitched onto his face. His hands moved in the clenching gesture he had used on Mitch. A gasp came from Jackson, who folded to the ground, reaching for his weapon.

  “Jackson!” Kenzie reacted immediately, hands conjuring a counterspell.

  A flash erupted between Hunter and them and blinded them. Wild arcing afterimages played on the back of Mitch’s eyelids. His ears strained to find the wizard boy before he attacked again. Kenzie was gasping next to him. The gasping turned to a mutter in a foreign language.

  An authoritative voice commanded, “Hold, both of you knuckleheads.”

  Mitch got his eyes open and looked past the blurriness. Hunter was staggering toward them, blinking like mad to regain his vision. Already his hands were working on another spell.

  Mercury stepped under the roll-up door, perfectly at ease. “Are both of you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  With a casual turn, Mercury faced Hunter and dispatched the boy’s spell with a wave of his hand. “You’re not a match for me yet, Master Rubiera.”

  Hunter blanched at the insult. “Mister.”

  “Not yet.” He stood feet shoulder-width apart, between the adversaries.

  Mitch recalled his first impression of Mercury, how his eyes seemed to see a thousand leagues. They were warrior eyes, the gunfighter waiting for the
draw, the swordsman planning a devastating riposte. Battle-hardened. Fear for Hunter rose in him like an ugly bile, acidic and burning.

  “Hunter,” he called out. “You can’t cover up a battle in the middle of the street with the whole neighborhood watching, man.” It’s a way out, you jerk. Take it.

  White spots stood starkly on either side of Hunter’s jaw and his features twisted into a crazed mask. Mitch groaned. Hunter’s stupid damn pride blocked his common sense. His hands moved, and he escalated the battle. An eerie ruby penumbra surrounded him.

  “Out of my way, old man.” Venomous, low.

  Mercury held his ground. He raised a hand, pointed a finger. “Foolish boy.”

  One flick and Hunter oomphed and folded like he had just taken a high-speed brick to the stomach.

  “Drag him in here,” Mercury ordered Mitch. Without turning, he spoke to McKenzie. “You will cease, as well.”

  Mitch walked quickly to where Hunter lay wheezing to get air into his lungs. Head on a swivel to see if anybody was watching, he hooked Hunter under the arms and strained. Dude was more solid than he looked.

  “Take that side.” A white-faced Jackson grabbed the other side and together they hauled Hunter into the garage. Dropping Hunter like a side of beef onto the concrete slab, Jackson took two strides and hit the opener button to close the door and protect them from prying eyes. When he turned, his weapon was pointed center-mass on Mercury’s back, finger beside the trigger guard. “Want to explain?”

  Mitch’s stomach flipped and flopped at the black Glock in Jackson’s two-handed grip. No, nope, no guns. A tremor that started in his hands built in intensity. He sagged against his car. “Jackson, stop.” A terrible fear made his voice crack. “Put the gun away. Please, p-p-put it away.”

  The wizard started to turn.

  “Stop or I will put a round into your back.” The instructions were delivered as a solemn promise.

  Mercury froze. “What would you like to know?”

  “Who are you, for starters? And what kind of idiot sets off explosives around kids? What did you hit Rubiera with?”

  A gasping groan followed his words. Hunter fought his way to a sitting position. He cast a baleful stare at Mitch, and transferred it to Mercury.

  “McKenzie, please neutralize the boy.” Mercury’s hands rose into a position of surrender.

  Mitch wasn’t buying it for a second. He tried again. “Jackson, Mercury’s one of the good guys.”

  Kenzie’s hands spun an intricate web as Mitch spoke. When she checked on Hunter, the boy’s arms were pinned to his sides. In slow motion, he toppled onto his side. Her hands kept moving.

  Mercury’s forefinger and middle finger on his right hand crossed, snapped open, and Kenzie cursed.

  Jackson spared her a perplexed glance. “Start with your name.”

  Mitch’s gaze darted from Mercury to Kenzie. He guessed that she had attempted to bind the older wizard with the same spell that she’d used on Hunter.

  “As young Mitch just mentioned, my name is Mercury.”

  “First name or last?”

  “Only, would be more accurate,” said the wizard.

  “His real name is Matthias McCrea,” said Kenzie.

  Hunter hissed and struggled against the bonds that Kenzie had woven, to no avail. “Shoot him,” he shouted. “Now, do it!”

  Jackson stepped to the side three feet so he could keep both prisoners under his watch. “If he’s sensible, no one will get shot. In the meantime, you shut up.” His face twitched as Hunter struggled with the hidden ropes. “Mitch, if he tries to get up, clobber him.” Added as an afterthought, “Or if he shouts again. We’ve got enough weirdness going on we don’t need to attract any more attention.”

  Mercury slid his eyes sideways and a bushy gray eyebrow rose. “Mr. Jackson, how do you expect this will end?”

  “With you in jail, probably. Kenzie safe at home.” A minuscule lifting of one shoulder. “We can let the boys fight it out once we’re gone.”

  “I was afraid that would be your opinion.” The eyebrow climbed higher, and his fingers on his left hand spasmed.

  Jackson’s expression went slack. His hands separated and descended to his sides.

  Mercury spun to face Kenzie. She wore skepticism in the white lines made by her lips. “Not now, McKenzie.” To Mitch, “Please put Mr. Jackson’s gun back in his holster. We do not need an accidental discharge should he drop it.”

  Mitch took a half step toward Jackson and shuddered to a halt, fixated on the dull black handgun. His head wagged back and forth. “Nunh-uh. I’m not touching it.” His teeth chattered. “I don’t like guns, don’t like them, no.”

  “Chicken,” mocked Hunter.

  Mouth curled down, the older wizard flicked his fingers in the younger wizard’s direction. A gasp, and silence.

  Worry sprang up on Kenzie’s face, and sympathy, too. “I’ll get it.”

  “Do not coddle that boy.” Mercury loomed in front of Mitch. “Look at me.”

  Compelled by the urgency in the wizard’s tone, Mitch shifted his eyes off the gun. “You know why,” he whispered.

  “Look. At. Me.” Each word received its own punctuation with a pause between, a hard edge on the me. It was a command, but Mercury, the wizard, did not enforce it with magic, but by force of will. As though he were engaged in a struggle with demons, Mitch broke into a sweat, but he dragged his gaze up. Like he was looking through the wrong end of binoculars, the wizard appeared far away, at the end of a bleak tunnel. He finally made eye contact. The dappled green in Mercury’s eyes bore deeper shades of darkness, of compassion.

  “You can do this one thing, Mitch.”

  Mitch stared into those depths, and then turned his face away. Jackson’s hand held the gun in a slack grip. A swipe with the back of his hand cleared his vision, and he jerked his chin down, teeth clenched and grinding.

  Some hero I’m supposed to be, he thought. He didn’t dare look at Kenzie, didn’t want to see the disappointment. Or the pity. Hunter was right. That last thought goaded him into movement. He took halting steps until he stood next to the bodyguard. The Glock was right there, all he had to do was reach for it. Shaking like an old man with a terrible palsy, he completed the action, his face twisting into painful contours. The polymer-framed gun slipped from Jackson’s fingers with a slight tug, and Mitch nearly dropped it. Holding it pinched between his fingers, he lifted Jackson’s sport coat, fumbled with the weapon until it pointed into the holster. He secured it and let the jacket drape back over it. Sweating, he sidled backwards. He wiped his palms on his jeans to remove any residue of sensation from touching the gun.

  Hunter smirked at him. The old icy rage that had sustained him in the aftermath of his mother’s murder—his replacement for guilt, according to his state-assigned therapist—flowed in his veins. Mitch decided he wanted nothing so much as to bash Hunter into hamburger. His emotions must have showed. The contempt on Hunter’s face faded. Replacing it was recognition of the feral anger directed at him.

  “Right-o. Next problem. Master Rubiera.” Mercury placed a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “If you could give the two of us a little space.”

  Mitch shifted out from under the pressure. He found Kenzie searching his face. He shielded himself from her by walking away, to the other end of the garage. He faced the wall, left hand wrapped around his right wrist. The skin over the knuckles of his right fist stretched tight. He traced spiderwebs into tangled patterns, imagining the pleasure of pummeling Hunter. The focal point of his attention was his ears, though, capturing every word the wizards behind him exchanged.

  Mercury spoke. “I need you to convey a message to your father. Nod once if you understand.” “Good. The message is two-fold. First, Mitchell Meriwether is under my personal protection. No one in your Family will harm him without facing me. This same message has been delivered to the Graham Family. Do you understand?”

  That explained part of why he was still breathing. His
estimation of Mercury’s abilities expanded. The wizard inspired terror in other wizards. Crazy question was why the old man went to so much trouble. A distinct knot of concern grew. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

  Mercury was speaking again. “The second message. There is a third party involved. I do not know who they are but they show tremendous power and animosity. Nor do I know what they hope to achieve. All Families should be watchful and prepared. Do you have that?”

  Face composed, Mitch pivoted and observed the wizards. Kenzie stood tense, watching the interchange. She glanced his way. A wan smile graced him. Maybe he hadn’t totally blown it by being such a chump.

  With a rustle of clothing, Mercury rose from his kneeling position next to Hunter. “I am going to release you after I open the door. You will leave. You will not speak. You will get into your car and drive away, to your home, and deliver my messages to little Georgie.”

  Mortal rage molded Hunter’s face into a mask that was unrecognizable. The twisted features pointed to Mercury. The concrete caught the ruddiness that surrounded him.

  “Master Rubiera, you may wish to dial down the amount of energy you are drawing. Or not. I’ve watched one wizard incinerate herself.”

  Kenzie flinched.

  The bushy eyebrows raised. “Her I actually cared for.” Without taking his eyes off his adversary, he said to Kenzie, “You, too.”

  Startled, Mitch swung to Kenzie. An amber aura encased her and the fine hairs at the base of her neck waved in a nonexistent breeze.

  Kenzie blurted, “He’s more powerful than you. He’ll attack as soon as you release him.”

  “He is not more skilled—yet. And there are two of us. Wizards cannot defend and attack at the same time.” His face turned to weathered granite, bleak like a solitary mountain resisting the scouring force of ice and wind. His voice reinforced the frigid image with the whisper of a cruel wind scything all before it. “Do you understand, Hunter? I sincerely do not wish to kill you.”

  Mitch stared at the tableau before him, helpless to influence any of them. A spring of tension let go in his chest. Kenzie no longer bore the golden shade of her magic. Her hands moved in a complicated pattern. The hairs on his arm rose as Kenzie moved her left arm up like it wore a shield.