Street Spells: Seven Urban Fantasy Shorts

by Aimee Easterling

  “Did someone do something to you? Maybe a potion?” Perhaps she’d had a conflict with a fellow alchemist.

  The Alchemica had the reputation for being the best, but that wasn’t all that was said. There were whispers of black magic and a certain lack of ethics. Though as a man cursed to embody a denizen of hell, James didn’t want to cast stones. Besides, this woman didn’t seem evil, but she could have run afoul of a less ethical colleague.

  She stared back at him and he could see the dawning realization in her intelligent eyes. She didn’t think his conclusion far-fetched—even if she remembered nothing of the particulars.

  “Look, I’m not from around here. I live two hours away, in Portsmouth. When you said you wanted to get out of town...”

  She gave him a thumbs-up. The sleeves of her dark robe were split at the point of the shoulder, apparently by design, and when she raised her left hand, the sleeve fell open and he caught a brief glimpse of the tattoo encircling her biceps. A streetlight at the corner provided a lot more illumination than the lighting in the parking lot they were leaving, and James got a better look at the tattoo. He’d thought it a single band in the low light, but he could now see that it was a series of intertwining bands. Four to be exact. If those were real, she was no common alchemist. She might be a master, the best of the best.

  A flurry of excitement stirred in his stomach. Here was a potential solution. She could stay with him until she got her problems sorted out, and maybe she could help him with his.

  “Okay. I’ll take you home.” He pulled out onto the street and hit the accelerator. Maybe fate hadn’t smacked him down after all.

  THE WOMAN DOZED OFF shortly after he pulled onto the interstate, leaving James with only the radio for company. It also left him plenty of time to think this over. The workshop would be an ideal place for her. It was a large area with an attached bathroom that included a shower. The problem, as always, was his brothers. They weren’t the type to lend a hand, or help a stranger. And when it came to women, they were absolute pigs.

  He glanced over at the woman dozing in his passenger seat. He hated to subject her to that.

  She shifted on the seat, and he caught another glimpse of that tattoo. What would George make of it? He’d certainly try to find some way to use her to his advantage. It would be best if he didn’t know her potential. Maybe imply that she was just a novice like James, but with a little more knowledge. George would refuse to let her stay if she had no usefulness. Perhaps James could imply that she knew something about those magic bullets. And maybe she did, but without her memory, that deception wouldn’t last long.

  About an hour from home, he pulled into a Walmart. He left the woman dozing on the passenger seat and went inside to get her something to wear. Not certain of her size, he opted for sweats, a long-sleeve T-shirt, and a hoodie. Even if they didn’t fit well, the clothes would at least give her an alternative to her robes, and he could take her shopping for more once he got things settled with George. If he got things settled with George.

  It was almost two in the morning when he pulled in behind the shop. He shut off the engine and gave her shoulder a shake.

  She woke with a gasp, then doubled over and cradled her head.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Maybe he should have grabbed some painkillers as well.

  “Wet ash the residue and—” She sat up and pressed a hand to her mouth, her worried eyes settling on him.

  “You remember me, right? James?”

  She nodded, then released a breath and leaned back in her seat.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  A wry twist at the corner of her mouth suggested that she had a sarcastic comeback for that, but she resorted to another thumbs-up. A frown creased her brow as she looked through the windshield. She waved a hand at the wall before them. The sign read: Huntsman Gun Shop Parking.

  “The family business,” he explained. “My brothers own and run it. There’s a workshop upstairs. I thought you could stay there.” He reached over the seat to collect the Walmart bags. “Considering that we don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in, I thought it best to get you something else to wear.”

  Her brows lifted, perhaps surprised—and maybe a little unnerved—that she had slept through his stop.

  “Are you still okay with this?” he asked.

  A few more moments of silent consideration, and she nodded.

  Again, he admired her bravery. This had to be a crazy situation for her. Unable to remember what had happened or even speak, she was forced to trust a complete stranger to get her to safety. James just hoped he wasn’t letting her down.

  He led her inside and up the stairs to the workshop and, leaving her to examine the room, went down to the shop to get a cot from the small collection of camping supplies they sold. Hunting was a sport for outdoorsmen, and camping was part of that. George was all about the little extras.

  James would catch hell for taking the cot from the shop, but so be it. If George didn’t give him shit for that, he’d find something else to complain about.

  Stepping into the workshop, James wasn’t surprised to see his guest examining his makeshift laboratory. What did surprise him was that she was already working to light the Bunsen burner.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, more curious than anything.

  She pushed an open notebook toward him where she’d already written down a list of ingredients.

  “You’re brewing a potion?” he asked, excited by the prospect—even if it was two in the morning.

  She picked up the pen. Knockout Powder, she wrote. Then hesitated and added, I don’t like being defenseless.

  James wanted to reassure her that he would protect her, but that sounded so cheesy. Besides, why should she believe him? She didn’t know that he’d chased those guys off. “I understand,” he said. “Are you going to make it now?” Not that he was opposed to the idea, but it was late—or rather, early.

  If you have the ingredients, she wrote.

  He glanced over the list again, then nodded. “I think I can find all this.” He couldn’t help but smile.

  She studied him, then turned back to her notepad. Is this lab yours?

  “Yes.” He felt his cheeks warm. “I’m an aspiring alchemist.”

  She grinned and lifted her right hand to give him a thumbs-up. Her split sleeve fell away to reveal a tattoo around her right biceps as well. It was the same design as the one he’d seen on her left, but this one had five bands. Holy crap, she was a master alchemist.

  She must have noticed his surprise. Spreading her hands, she lifted her brows in question.

  “Your tattoos,” he said. “They mark you as a master alchemist.” Each band was supposed to signify a discipline mastered, and there were ten. This woman had mastered nine of them. “You lack only the final band, but that’s as many as anyone has. No one has found the Final Formula.”

  She swayed, and James was certain she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.

  “Maybe you should save the potion-making for later. After you’ve gotten some sleep,” he suggested.

  In answer, she pulled the notepad closer. I keep having these déjà vu moments, like I’m about to remember.

  “Maybe that means you will remember.”

  I hope, she wrote. Those ingredients?

  He shook his head. She was tenacious. “All right, but only because I can’t pass up the opportunity to work with an actual alchemist. A master alchemist.”

  She flashed him a grin, then wrote one more line. Then get moving, apprentice.

  He laughed and hurried off to do just that.

  JAMES DIDN’T GET MUCH sleep, but that didn't affect his good mood as he walked over to the shop the next morning. Well, it was technically the same morning, but it felt like a new day.

  This morning’s alchemy work had been amazing. He had learned so much just by watching. His guest had been easy to work with and even eager to help him understand the process be
tter. He would have asked more questions, but it had been a pain for her to write down every response. Hopefully, whatever was affecting her ability to speak properly would wear off soon.

  James opened the side door and stepped inside. Maybe he could speak to George before—

  A series of thumps sounded above him, followed by a male shout. Henry.

  “Shit!” James ran for the stairs and took them three at a time. He arrived in the workshop an instant later. It was as he feared. Henry and Brian had found his new friend.

  James skidded to a halt. He thought he would have to rescue her, but that wasn't the case.

  Brian lay unmoving at her feet while she faced Henry, a vial in hand.

  Seeing how she had overcome his brothers made James want to laugh—until Henry pulled a throwing knife from his belt.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Henry told her. Then he smiled.

  Chapter 4

  “Henry, don’t!” James hurried forward, positioning himself between the woman and his brother. “She’s an alchemist.” Since she was no longer wearing her robe, that wasn’t obvious. “She’s going to help us design those magic bullets.”

  “Alchemist?” Henry demanded. “Is that why the crazy bitch started shouting about milliliters of some shit?”

  “She’s had some trouble. It’ll—”

  “And what the hell did she do to Brian?”

  James glanced at her, and she lifted the vial, enabling him to see the white powder within.

  “It’s just Knockout Powder,” James explained. “It's harmless. I watched her make it.” Helped her, actually.

  James stared at Brian’s still form, shocked that the potion had actually worked. He had never seen alchemy in action. Though he had dabbled in alchemy for a while, he’d never been able to bottle magic on his own.

  Henry stepped closer to him, absently spinning the razor-sharp knife in his hand. “I see what's going on here.” A nasty smirk curled his lips. “You finally got laid.”

  James sprang without warning and had the immense satisfaction of watching Henry’s eyes widen. He wasn't allowed to fight with his brothers, so the move took Henry by surprise. Otherwise, Henry would have thrown the knife.

  Not that the knife would have been a deterrent. With the ability to heal all damage when he shifted form, James didn't fear a knife, bullet, or quarrel. His brothers frequently used him for target practice. It didn't matter that James fully felt the pain until he healed.

  James’s fist connected with Henry’s chin and sent him to the floor—hard.

  In the momentary silence, James heard the soft scrape of metal on leather, the sound of a knife leaving a sheath. He whirled toward the door to see George standing on the threshold, his favorite hunting knife in hand.

  Before either of them could speak, the woman stepped between them; her back to James, she held the vial aloft.

  James was stunned. He couldn't remember a time when anyone had stepped between him and his punishment.

  “What the hell is going on here?” George spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

  “Apparently, James found some addled alchemist to screw him,” Henry answered, getting to his feet.

  James clenched his fists, but she gripped his arm.

  “And Brian?” George frowned at their unmoving brother.

  “Unconscious,” James answered.

  “Explain,” George said between clenched teeth. “And while you’re at it, you can explain this.” He held up the newspaper that had been tucked under one arm. On the front page was a picture of the burning Alchemica.

  James swallowed. “When I arrived at the Alchemica—”

  “In Cincinnati,” George cut in.

  “In Cincinnati,” James agreed. “I found her.” He gestured at the woman by his side. “I helped her and—”

  “I agreed to come here,” she answered, then lifted a hand to her mouth, clearly surprised that she could speak. The potion must have finally worn off. Smiling, she turned back to George. “I agreed to come here and help James make those bullets.”

  James stared at her in shock, not only because she was no longer spouting alchemical nonsense, but because she’d picked up on the story he’d given Henry and run with it.

  “I’m not going to pay her,” George said, his eyes still on James.

  “In exchange for room and board,” she said.

  “First, you will prove that you can...”—George hesitated—“put out.” He smiled at the crude play on words while Henry doubled over with laughter.

  James gritted his teeth.

  “Wow.” She looked up at James. “Your brothers are such classy guys.”

  “Yeah,” James agreed.

  “And your addled alchemist has a mouth on her,” Henry said.

  “Call me Addie,” she replied. “No need to be so formal.”

  Henry gave her a dark look.

  “That’s enough,” George cut in. “I expect progress. Addie. You can begin now. James, I want you downstairs—”

  “Wait,” Addie spoke up. “I’m going to need my apprentice. I can brew the formula, but I don't know the first thing about bullets.”

  George studied her for a long moment, then turned to Henry. “Take Brian downstairs, then get cleaned up. You're working the counter this morning.”

  Henry opened his mouth.

  “No argument,” George stopped his protest. “Do as you're told.”

  Henry gave James a glare, then Addie, but did as George instructed. Once he had Brian slung over his shoulder, he left the room, grumbling under his breath.

  George faced James. “This better not be another lie. I'll expect those bullets.”

  “And you shall have them,” Addie answered. George didn't seem to intimidate her at all—and George intimidated everyone.

  George spared her a frown, then addressed James. “Tomorrow morning, we go hunting.”

  James lifted his chin, trying to imitate Addie, even as his stomach twisted into knots. George would make certain he paid for his lie.

  Sparing them one last glare, George left the room.

  James made an effort not to release a sigh of relief.

  “Charming family,” Addie said now that they were alone.

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  “You aren’t responsible for their actions.”

  “I brought you here,” he reminded her.

  “And I'm grateful. With better equipment, I might be able to brew something to restore my memory.”

  “You don't remember what happened to you?”

  “I don't even remember my name.” Her brow wrinkled. “All I remember is alchemy.”

  James eyed her. “I don't believe amnesia works that way.”

  “It doesn’t. Something happened to me, but I don't know what.” She frowned, but it wasn’t an expression of worry or despair. It was determination, flavored by anger. “I’ll figure it out.”

  He realized that he believed her. “Until then, what name do you want to use? I’m not going to let my brothers call you Addie.”

  “Why not?” She asked. “I like it.”

  He decided to let that go. “What about the bullet formula?” If she couldn't do as George asked, he would force her to leave. “Do you know how to make those magic bullets?” After all, someone from the Alchemica had sent that flyer.

  “No, I don’t know such a formula, but I can design one.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Sure,” she answered without hesitation. “There are no limitations in alchemy.”

  “What if what you want to accomplish is impossible?” Like reversing his curse and making him simply human. “There must be limits, right?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Alchemy rule number one: anything is possible.”

  He studied her, not certain whether she was joking.

  Her tone remained serious as she continued. “If you’re going to be an alchemist, you must accept that. It’s where our magic comes from.”

  “Our magic?
You really think I could be an alchemist?”

  “I wouldn’t have named you my apprentice otherwise.” She gave him a wink. “Come on, let’s get to work.”

  Stunned, he watched her walk back to his makeshift lab. Could this really be happening? Could an impossible dream be...possible?

  She looked over her shoulder. “Well, what are you waiting for? Wipe that goofy grin off your face and get over here.” She smiled as she spoke. “I may not remember much, but I’m certain the apprentices considered me merciless.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Still grinning, he walked over to join her. “You’ve met my brothers. I doubt you could hold a candle to them.”

  A look of sympathy crossed her face, but she continued the teasing. “Perhaps, but I do like a challenge.” She propped her hands on her hips as she eyed his meager supplies. “And this is certainly going to be a challenge.”

  “How can I help?”

  “First, we’re going to need some more equipment. A few porcelain dishes, stir rods, vials, of course, and—” She stopped. “You might want to write this down. I haven’t even started on the ingredients.”

  Chuckling, he picked up the notebook and did as told. Tomorrow, he would pay the price for lying to George, but he knew it had been worth it. He had found an instructor who may one day give him the means to break his curse, but more importantly, he had found a friend.

  THE STORY DOESN’T END there. If you’d like to find out what happens next for Addie and James, be sure to check out my Final Formula Series. The first book, The Final Formula is free everywhere my books are sold. For a complete list of titles, blurbs, and excerpts, please visit my website at the link below and discover the Final Formula.

  http://beccaandre.com/the-final-formula-series/

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  Thank you for reading Alchemy and Destiny. I hope you enjoyed it!