Magic for Hire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Found Magic Book 3)

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Magic for Hire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Found Magic Book 3) Page 11

by J. A. Cipriano


  “Do you know how many recruits would be in a body bag by now? Almost all of them. Even with your tech and skills, it’s a tough world out there.” He shot me a thumbs up. “Someone must think you’re a valuable and important member of this team to even be placed in this situation.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, feeling my cheeks heat up. At least someone thought I was important, even if his sudden recognition was embarrassing.

  “Don’t mention it,” he replied, flashing me a thumbs up. “Now jump!”

  I jumped. Falling through the air was a weird experience because, while terrifying, it was strangely calming. That and it always seemed to take forever. I wasn’t sure what it was about freefall, but the seconds always stretched into minutes. The sensor on my HUD dinged, and I pulled the ripcord, allowing my parachute to deploy. It jerked me up in the air as Flash touched down about half a mile from our target’s base.

  From there, we’d have to tromp through the swampy jungle to reach our location. Only, as I fell to earth, I heard gunfire rip through the clearing. Flash’s body jerked on the earth below, pitching backward. I barely had time to scream before bullets came flying up at me out of the brush, missing me but perforating my parachute.

  The wind whipping through my bullet-ridden parachute was the scariest sound I’d ever heard. My heart jumped into my throat as a bullet severed the cord above my head. My body jerked downward as my parachute folded awkwardly in on itself as I crashed into the treetops.

  I struck a branch so hard I was pretty sure everything inside me was broken. Still, I was a little ways from where I’d been supposed to land, and I hadn’t died, so points for that. I cut myself free with the Becker BK7 knife I’d relinquished from the plane’s armory to replace the knife I’d lost before.

  I’d barely gotten free when men in black body armor swarmed beneath me like ants. I leapt from the tree, landing on the first one with a satisfying crunch. Bullets started flying before I could recover, pinging off my armor as I waded through them head on, like the take all comers badass I knew I was.

  In a moment, all six of them were unconscious on the ground around me. I stood there, chest heaving for breath and heard the telltale sound of motors revving to life in the distance. I sprinted toward it, barely stopping long enough to scoop up two of the machineguns the soldiers had been using.

  The weapons were short squat things with huge magazines and stubby barrels. I burst into the clearing just as two men tossed Flash’s unmoving body into the back of a black military grade hummer.

  “Stop!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, which was really stupid because another hummer with a mounted gun of some type swiveled toward me. I barely had time to throw myself out of the way before gunfire cleaved through the space I’d been occupying a second before.

  While my armor had been pretty good about staving off explosions and bullets up until now, I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to test it against whatever kind of weapon that was. Trees and brush around me fell to earth as I circled around, crawling on my belly. I could barely hear anything over the din as I tried to get myself out of its cone of death. Unfortunately, it seemed like no matter where I moved, bullets followed, cutting the surrounding forest into bits.

  “Screw it,” I muttered, emptying one of the machineguns in the direction of the fire. I wasn’t sure if it did anything because I didn’t hear cries of pain or anything, but the bullets stopped.

  I scanned the area, switching to infrared and seeing the outlines of the soldiers. “Sorry,” I whispered to myself as I lined up on the first target with my remaining machinegun. He was the one standing behind the big gun. I fired. I didn’t see the bullets hit him, but I saw his body jerk backward and slump to the ground as I aimed at the second soldier and fired.

  I was on my feet as a dozen men swarmed my location, guns firing. I emptied my weapon in their general direction and tossed it to the side as I sprinted away, hoping most of them would chase me beyond the range of the hummer-mounted gun. I’m not quite sure how far I ran, but it felt like forever.

  When I doubled back around in a wide sweep, I came upon two soldiers sweeping the area. The first one saw me as I decked him in the face as hard as I could. He slumped backward as his partner fired into my ribs at point blank range. Pain exploded through my side as I staggered backward and a warning light went off in my HUD. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but it seemed bad.

  I didn’t waste time. Instead, I reached out and tore his weapon from his hands, pushing the pain down deep inside myself and compartmentalizing it. Surprisingly, he released his weapon, stepping back into a fighting stance and drawing his knife simultaneously.

  I drew mine, and we circled each other until he lunged, his blade snaking outward in a slice at my stomach. I stepped into it allowing his wrist to smash into my side and rendering his blow relatively pointless. I jabbed outward with my knife, driving it into his throat. He stumbled back, wide-eyed as he clawed at the metal embedded in his neck.

  A horrible feeling filled my stomach as I watched him flop to the ground, his lifeblood leaking through his fingers. While I hadn’t really thought about why it would matter how I killed someone before, I did now. Shooting someone was easier. Stabbing was harder, and I’d done it without blinking. What kind of person did that make me? Gunfire tore through the distance, shattering my thoughts as my head snapped toward it.

  “It makes me the kind of person who survives,” I heard myself say in a voice far colder and emptier than my own. It was a little weird because I knew it to be true. Whatever I had been before, I wasn’t anymore. I’d been pushed around, played, tricked and now?

  Now, I was what they had made me. The realization made me a little sad as I moved back toward the clearing, but not sad enough to keep me from driving my fist into the kidney of the soldier in front of me and stepping over him as he writhed on the ground. Then I picked up his weapon and put a bullet into his head.

  A couple soldiers surged toward me, but it didn’t matter. I took them out with a spray of gunfire as my lips settled into a cold, hard line.

  “Is this what you wanted?” I asked as I approached the Hummer where they’d thrown Flash. I didn’t see any more soldiers, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. “Because this is what you have now.”

  I circled the hummer in one quick movement, but seeing no one, jerked the back door open, careful to keep it between me and any occupants. A guy who looked younger than me stood with a pistol aimed at Flash’s head. Her eyes were closed and blood was dripping from her mouth, but she was still breathing. Even from here, I could tell she was mostly fine because it didn’t look like any shots had penetrated her body armor. Good for her.

  “Don’t take another step,” he said, voice rushed and scared. “If you do, I’ll kill her. Don’t think I won’t.”

  Instead of replying, I calmly pointed my machinegun at the kid, not surprised in the least when he didn’t shoot Flash. She was his leverage after all. If she died, he died.

  My lips tightened into a hard line as his eyes focused on my gun. He wasn’t ready for this at all. He was just some scared kid. Why had they sent him after me? It didn’t make any sense. I let out a slow breath. In the end, I guess it didn’t matter much, but I knew one thing to be true. Killing this guy would make me feel bad. Guess there was still some good in me after all. Who would have thought?

  “Drop your weapon, or I’m going to put a bullet in your head,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could. “You might think you’ll get a shot off or something, that maybe you’ll be a hero. But you won’t. For one, your bullets will bounce off me like I’m Superman, and for two, you aren’t faster than me. I fire this thing at you, and you’ll wind up being little more than a smear on the ground. So make your choice. Give up or give up the ghost. Sadly, neither one bothers me. There was a time where it might have, but that time is not now. Look into my eyes and know my words are true. So the only question remaining for you is this: Am I going to have to wipe your smudge off
my boots or not?”

  He dropped the gun, and my heart hitched in relief. I hadn’t been looking forward to killing some stupid kid.

  18

  “This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard!” I exclaimed, barely believing the words coming out of Flash’s mouth as we drove the stolen Israeli hummer toward the military prison in the distance. Desert spread out of us like a vast expanse of endless sand so there was virtually no cover, and what was worse? There was a single lane road heading toward the only gate in and out from the place. Even from here, I could see numerous mounted guard towers and had no doubt each one held at least one gunner, if not more, inside.

  “You clearly have not heard Bang’s plans before,” the Russian femme fatale said as she glanced at me, her lips quirking into a wry smile as her gaze swept over me. I reached out, gripping the dashboard with my hands as she swerved, one tire running off the road and onto the shoulder because she wasn’t watching where she was going at-freaking-all. “This is pretty tame plan. I assure you.” Her words concerned me, a lot. If this was a tame plan, I’d have hated to see an extreme one because from what I could tell, this plan was absolutely insane.

  “That doesn’t make it not nuts. For one, that’s a prison. They’re designed to keep people inside,” I replied, pointing at the gate ahead. It was a massive steel structure and was topped with razor wire.

  “So it will be easy to get inside,” Flash said, patting the small black satchel sitting on the seat between us. I wasn’t quite sure what was inside, but this wasn’t the first time she’d shown it to me as a way of comforting me.

  “Assuming we get inside at all. How am I going to get out? Furthermore, how do we even know the director is inside there?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her even though she wasn’t looking at me.

  Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and her lips compressed into a thin line. “Information is good. Director is there. Plan is sound. Stop whining.”

  “I’m not even quite sure I understand the plan,” I replied, crossing my arms over my chest and harrumphing as I stared out the passenger window and into the endless desert. If we got killed out here, there’d be no one to find our bodies. It’d be easy to bury us in an unmarked grave. The thought gave me the chills.

  “I make big distraction. You go inside. Kill everyone. Find Director. Bring him out. We escape.” She laughed, and it was a weird jovial sound. “Is good plan. Is simple. How you no understand?”

  “Okay I get that, but what about, I don’t know, schematics? Like where inside is the director? You know, important critical stuff like that?” I asked, not even bothering to look at her. “Your plan is too simple.”

  “You think too much. Go inside. Punch someone until he talks. Simple.” She was shaking her head as I glanced at her.

  “Easy for you to say. You’ll be out here, not in there.” I pointed at the prison I was supposed to break into and then back out of.

  “I am the Flash. You are the Bang. I make distraction. You break things.” She shrugged. “We all have our roles.”

  I let out a sigh that didn’t properly contain all my annoyance with her. Evidently, Bang was the one who did most of the actual heavy lifting while Flash was more the brains of the operation. Since I’d rendered Bang inoperable by smashing his knee, I was taking his place. It sounded good in theory, but well, I wasn’t theoretically breaking into a well-guarded military prison. I was going to have to actually do it.

  “Get ready,” Flash said, interrupting my thoughts as she slammed on the gas pedal, sending the hummer flying toward the gate as a guard in front attempted to wave her down.

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and readied my pistols. This part wasn’t going to be fun. Just as our vehicle passed the spot where we were supposed to stop, I jumped from the side. I crashed to the ground, rolling to my feet as Flash zoomed off, twisting the Hummer into a tight turn that had its wheels leaving the pavement in a squeal of rubber. It slammed sideways into the gate as an alarm erupted from within the prison.

  Before the gunfire started, an explosion ripped the Hummer apart with so much force it took my breath away. Heat washed over me. I counted to ten like she told me to, somewhat surprised no one had noticed me, but then again, how often does someone drive an exploding hummer into a prison?

  Shouting filled the night as I sprinted toward the smaller man door a few meters from the gate. It opened with a click as the magnetic lock disengaged. The guard didn’t even know what hit him as I slammed my palm into the side of his head as he stepped out, weapon drawn. He fell sideways onto the cement walkway running from here to the main gate, his weapon clattering away.

  A gunshot ripped through the space, nowhere near me because I was pretty sure the man behind him was firing blindly into the night. I bit my lip, immediately sorry for what I was about to do as I tossed a grenade through the man door and pulled the door itself toward me to block the ensuing blast.

  It was loud even over the din of sirens and explosions. Still, when I looked inside the prison yard I saw little more than a black smudge on the other side. Knowing I had only seconds before more guards swarmed the explosion, I let myself inside, post haste.

  One quick look around the yard revealed an assortment of nothing. It was just a swath of asphalt with yellow and white lines painted on it. I wasn’t quite sure what they were for, nor did I care very much. I sprinted toward what looked like the main building as explosions echoed outside the gates directly beneath the closest two guard towers. They teetered on their steel legs before toppling inward toward the wall like cut bean stocks with giants on top.

  I smacked one of the key cards Flash assured me would work at the scanner beside the door, pretty sure it wasn’t going to work because the place seemed built to withstand an army, let alone me and a Russian mercenary. Surely, they had some kind of lockdown procedure that’d render the card reader useless.

  I was wrong. The door opened with a clang as the electronic lock disengaged. I pushed it open, careful to keep myself out of sight. Guards were sprinting toward me, angry looking assault rifles at their sides. They stopped and took aim at the open door, but I was pretty sure they hadn’t seen me because no one was firing.

  The lead one called something in a language I didn’t understand, which was still kind of irksome every time I thought about it. I mean, I’d had both a super suit and magic at my disposal and somehow no one had thought to include a version of Rosetta Stone with either? Seriously?

  I flung another grenade into the hallway. There was a scream inside followed by a blast that shook the building. I flung myself through the entrance, firing my pistols at anything that moved as I stepped through the smoke and debris. I wasn’t sure how many men I killed in that ten-second walk through the hallway, but way more than enough to know I was a horrible person who would probably be spending my afterlife somewhere dark and fiery.

  A door opened to my right, and without thinking, I leapt toward it, tackling a young blonde woman to the floor. Her head smacked against the cheap tile floor with a wet thwack that made me think concussion. Even still, I jammed one gun up under her chin and glanced around the room. No one else was there, which made sense because it looked like some sort of staff cafeteria. Off to the left, I saw a still steaming mug with a pastry sitting next to it. Had she been getting a snack when the alarms went off? I don’t know why, but that made me feel sort of bad.

  On her left breast was a blue tag with words in a language I didn’t understand followed by a name. Dr. Debbie Hassad. Awesome. I’d just beat up a doctor. So going to Hell.

  Instead of begging for forgiveness, I grabbed her by the hair and forced her dazed eyes to look up at me. When she finally focused on me, fear filled her baby blues, and my gut twisted in horror at myself. Who was I now? Was I really this? Really?

  “I am looking for a particular prisoner. We call him the director. Do you know who I am talking about?” I asked and she shook her head. Then she got this dizzy look on her face.

 
I moved just in time for her to throw up all over herself. It was disgusting. I let out a slow breath through my teeth and was about to ask her one more time when the door across from us burst open and two soldiers with machine guns filled the space.

  They yelled in that same language I didn’t understand, but before the words had even totally left their mouths, I shot them. They slumped backward into the doorway in a spray of crimson as I wondered for the first time if the doctor could even understand the words coming out of my mouth.

  I was about to turn and ask her when gunfire erupted from the doorway. Most of the bullets missed me and the ones that didn’t pinged harmlessly off my suit. I hadn’t been counting, but I was pretty sure I’d have been dead fifty times over if it wasn’t for this thing. I wasn’t sure what it liked, but I was definitely going to treat it to a nice night on the town when this was all over.

  My guns barked as I fired back, filling the doorway with lead as I flung myself behind a steel table and pulled it onto its side for cover although I wasn’t sure why. My suit had more than adequately stopped most fire, but then again, it’d only take one lucky shot to put me down forever. It made sense to avoid gunfire if I could help it.

  I was debating whether or not to go for a grenade when more bullets pinged off the table and ricocheted through the air, cracking the tile all around the doctor who lay slumped in a pile of her own puke.

  I chastised myself even as I got to my feet and sprinted toward her. I scooped her up as I passed by, my fingers gripping on the squishy material of her lab coat as I used my body to shield her from the fire until we were hidden behind an alcove.

  Bullets tore through the wall, ripping apart the drywall and pinging off the cement beneath as I glanced down at the doctor who didn’t seem to be bleeding. Good, she hadn’t been shot.

  “Are you awake?” I asked even though I could barely hear myself over the gunfire. When she didn’t immediately respond, I glanced back toward the door and emptied one of my magazines. Silence filled the room as I snapped a new one into place and shook the doctor.

 

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