Mist and Magic

by Lindsay Buroker

  Nin blinked at me. “You wish me to look at something… furry?”

  “It’s not a weapon. Except to plucked chickens.”

  “You are confusing me, Val. I am not a veterinarian. I do not know about animals.”

  “Come look, anyway.” As I turned toward the door, I sensed another magical being outside. A goblin? My first thought was that he must be one of Nin’s customers, but he had stopped out in the street. By my Jeep?

  Alarm flashed through me, and I flung open the door and ran toward the vehicle. I’d locked the doors, but goblins had the mechanical aptitude and propensity for taking things faster than practiced car strippers.

  A short green-skinned figure in a trench coat stood on the running board of my Jeep as he peered through the tinted window on the passenger side.

  I drew my gun and asked, “Lose something?” in a hard voice.

  Goblins were rarely involved in anything more nefarious than theft, so I didn’t plan to shoot him, even if it turned out he’d been trying to break in, but a surge of protectiveness coursed through me. If he had been planning on stealing the cub, I would do my best to scare the little hoodlum.

  The goblin spun, slipped off the running board, but recovered and landed on his feet. He flung his hands up. His short white hair stuck up in all directions, and his wide yellow eyes stared up at me. He was only three and a half feet tall.

  “The Mythic Murderer,” he whispered, one of my other monikers in the magical community.

  I didn’t know whether to be flattered or not that so many of them recognized me. This goblin wasn’t familiar to me.

  “That’s my Jeep. It doesn’t like strangers hanging all over it.”

  “This is yours?” He reached back and touched the black paint. “Do you know what’s inside?”

  I almost inventoried my first-aid kit, tire jack, and camping gear for him, but he had to have sensed the cub. “Do you?”

  “I believe…” He looked at my gun, but he also climbed back on the running board to peer in the window again.

  I strode forward, intending to grab him by the collar of his coat to haul him away, but Nin ran up and gripped my arm.

  “Please do not hurt Brugak, Val. He is one of my customers.”

  “Yes, it is true.” Brugak turned back and opened one side of his trench coat to reveal the hilt of a pistol jutting out of his waistband. “I am packing heat. Nin’s heat.” He smiled and winked at her.

  “I have told you not to flirt with me, Brugak,” Nin said sternly.

  “I can’t help it. You’re part gnome and so cute. You even dyed your hair green for me.” He rubbed one of his green cheeks.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to hurt him?” I asked Nin.

  She hesitated. “He pays well for my goods.”

  “He has money?”

  “He pays in barter that I can use in my business. Steel, gunpowder, halves of cows.”

  Halves of cows? How did that work?

  “Has it ever occurred to you that it’s odd that your business can use all those things?” I asked.

  “You know I have two businesses.”

  “I can supply anything you need.” Brugak bowed, which caused him to fall off the running board again. He recovered and smiled up at me. Or possibly my chest.

  Given his height, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that my chest might be on the way to my eyes from his angle.

  “But I am most curious about your passenger.” He pointed toward the Jeep door, peered all around, and lowered his voice. “Is that a Del’nothian tiger?”

  “It’s some kind of tiger. A cub.” Normally, I wouldn’t give information to a stranger—especially a stranger this strange—but if he knew more than I did and was willing to share… “I was just about to ask Nin if she knew anything about the tiger, since I acquired it somewhat accidentally.”

  “Accidentally?” Brugak breathed. “How is that possible?” His gaze lifted from my chest to my neck.

  My charm-filled thong was under my shirt, but his senses would have told him about the magical trinkets. He squinted, as if he were trying to see through my shirt with X-ray vision.

  “You do not have the linked charm, I do not think. How is that possible?”

  “You tell me.”

  He scratched his head. “I cannot. A Del’nothian tiger cannot exist in this realm without one of the control charms. At least I do not believe so.”

  “What world are these tigers from?” I had heard of most of the worlds over the years and Del’noth didn’t ring a bell.

  “World? They are from a realm.”

  “Uh.” Were we losing something in the translation? The goblin spoke in English, but as I’d learned, there were plenty of words, especially pertaining to magic, that did not have an equivalent in my language.

  “The special realm that they and the dragons made long ago.”

  Dragons? Maybe Lieutenant Reynolds had been right. Maybe that had been the dragon word for this realm.

  “How do you get to it? A portal?” As far as I knew, only dragons and very powerful magic users from the various races could create portals between the worlds. Few of the refugees that fled to Earth had that power, so it was a one-way trip for most of them. Meaning there was no way I could send the cub home, unless someone came to get her.

  “No. Only the charms allow travel there and only for the tigers themselves.”

  My head was starting to hurt. “So how could one have left?”

  “I don’t know. It is possible I am wrong, and that is not a Del’nothian tiger, but I have seen one before. I was almost eaten by one before.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “I suppose, but only because they do not eat on our worlds. One was sent to hunt me down. That is why I fled to Earth. Never did I think to see one of those tigers here.”

  I barely heard anything after the word eat. They do not eat on our worlds.

  This did sound like my new furry friend.

  “May I see it?” Brugak turned his bright eyes on me.

  “No,” I said, more out of reflex than logic. I doubted he would try to steal the cub with me standing two feet away.

  “May I?” Nin asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Goodness, Mythic Murderer,” Brugak said. “I would not be so foolish as to cross you. I know you have slain many of my kind.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever slain a goblin. I only kill murderers and really bad guys. You appear mediocrely bad at worst.”

  He spread his hand over his chest. “I am not bad at all.”

  “No? Where do you get the halves of cows you bring to Nin?”

  “From the cow repository.”

  “Also known as a farmer’s field?”

  “I do not know who owns the fields. But cows are large and can feed an entire clan of goblins for a moon.”

  “Yeah, I hear they feed farmers for many moons too.”

  A troubled expression crossed Nin’s face. Maybe it hadn’t occurred to her that Brugak’s cows were stolen.

  “The cub is what I wanted to show you, Nin.” I holstered Fezzik, certain I could catch the goblin if he did try anything.

  Nin smiled and patted the pistol on my thigh. “I must admit that it surprises me that you choose my firearm to draw first when your sword is so much more powerful, but it also pleases me.”

  “I’ve found it’s good to please the woman who makes your magical ammo.” I didn’t admit that the gun was my go-to weapon because I’d been handling firearms for a lot longer than blades. It hadn’t been until I’d defeated the zombie and claimed Chopper as my own that I’d started to train with the sword. Years later, and more hours of practice than I could count, I was handy enough with the weapon, but the gun felt more natural in my grip.

  Besides, I was fond of taking care of enemies from a distance whenever possible. My organs were more likely to stay on the inside if I didn’t get close enough to shifters or other fanged or taloned creature
s for evisceration.

  When I opened the door, the cub was still sleeping and barely lifted her head. My uneasy certainty that more than fatigue affected her returned to me.

  In the dim lighting, her fur glowed faint silver.

  “It is a Del’Nothian tiger,” Brugak breathed and stroked his hand over her side.

  The cub’s tail flicked slightly, but that was the only sign of objection—or acknowledgment.

  “Is she sick?” Nin asked.

  “I don’t know. She was fine earlier. She helped me find some ogres. Energetically.”

  “Del’Nothian tigers are absolutely energetic.” Brugak rubbed his butt at some memory, perhaps of having a chomp taken out of it. “But they can only stay for a certain amount of time away from their realm before they must return to feed and rejuvenate. How long has this one been here?”

  “I’m not sure when she got here, but I’ve had her for almost twenty-four hours.” It seemed like it had been much longer. The thought elicited a yawn, and I grimaced at the idea of going up to Bellingham tonight, but if Willard was already up there and the cub was in danger, I doubted I would be able to sleep tonight anyway. Besides, just because Michael’s bounty poster had said he was to be captured alive didn’t mean whoever had paid for it planned to keep him alive.

  “Interesting,” Brugak said. “I didn’t think they could stay away from their realm for that long.”

  “What happens if they do?”

  “I thought they were automatically yanked back when they needed rest, but I also thought they were all linked to charms and that the power to summon and release them came from them.”

  “I didn’t see a charm.” I frowned as I thought back to Michael’s ransacked boat. Was it possible someone had taken the charm and not the cub? But if so, why? Why not take both if they were linked?

  “What happens if she does not automatically go back to her home?” Nin had crept forward and was taking her turn petting the tiger.

  Brugak shrugged. “I don’t know, but she may die.”

  My insides clenched, and I shook my head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You will go into battle tonight?” Nin asked me.

  “Damn right, I will.”

  “I will get your ammo and grenades.”

  9

  Nin was kind enough to give me several of her beef-and-rice meals along with the ammo and grenades, so I left for Bellingham straight from her truck. It was after ten, and I was fighting yawns after being up so late the previous night, but I drove north out of the city with determination.

  I left the fog in Seattle behind but traded it for rain that picked up as I drove through Everett. It hammered the windshield and formed puddles on the freeway that ducks could have paddled in.

  The phone rang before I got through Marysville. Julie.

  I didn’t want to answer it and almost didn’t, but it was possible Michael’s kidnapper had called his family and she had information.

  “Val here.” I answered over the Jeep’s speaker system, not wanting to take my focus from the road with the rain making visibility poor. At least there wasn’t much traffic.

  “Have you learned anything about Michael yet?”

  That meant she hadn’t heard anything. I regretted answering.

  “I have a couple of leads I’m investigating.”

  “That means no, right?” She sounded frustrated and cranky.

  Probably tired and worried, I told myself, trying to see things from her side. Julie and I had never gotten along because she thought I was the bad influence who’d lured Michael away from his solid finance job, but that wasn’t true. His family had pressured him into that career, and he’d hated it. If it hadn’t been treasure hunting, it would have been something else. Something they didn’t approve of.

  “I got the address that was in the dead ogre’s pocket translated,” I said. “I’m heading to Bellingham to check it out.”

  Google Maps had laughed at me when I’d tried to click for a street view of Misty Loop Lane. None of their camera cars had ever ambled down it to take photos. The best I’d been able to tell from the satellite view was that it was a dirt road. I hadn’t spotted any caves or castles along it and hoped I wasn’t going on a wild goose chase.

  “Bellingham? Who kidnaps someone and takes them to Bellingham?”

  “I don’t know, Julie. I’ll call you when I find him.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  I wanted to end the conversation so I could focus on driving—if anything, the rain was getting worse—but I didn’t want to snap at her. “Not unless you can get his phone unlocked and it holds all his secrets.”

  “The phone carrier said the only way to unlock it is to reset it.”

  At which point, his secrets would be gone. If they were on there at all. I had a feeling his biggest secret was sleeping on my passenger seat.

  The cub was so quiet that I reached over to touch her and make sure she was still breathing. It seemed impossible that such a young vibrant being could be in danger of dying, but if she truly didn’t belong in this world and weakened the longer she was in it…

  My throat tightened up with emotion. I’d barely known the cub for a full night and day, but I didn’t want to see her die.

  She barely stirred at my touch, but she was still breathing. That was something.

  “I’ll let you know if I learn anything new,” I said.

  “Good. You better… I hope he doesn’t…” Julie’s own throat sounded tight with emotion.

  I was worried about Michael, too, but I was good at my job, and I believed I could find him, so I hadn’t yet started to think of the possibility that I wouldn’t. Or that I would be too late.

  “He wouldn’t know about any of this stuff if it weren’t for you,” Julie said, the accusation hanging in the air.

  “I know.”

  I’d never tried to deny that. One of the reasons we’d broken up was the same reason I’d broken up with my ex-husband. The bad guys that I hunted down and killed tended to have brothers or sisters—or pack- or clan-mates—who came after me and tried to avenge their deaths. More than one innocent bystander had been taken out by drive-by shooters that had been aiming at me. That was horrifying enough, and a guilt I lived with every day, but the idea of losing someone I cared deeply for that way…

  Julie hung up.

  The rain pounding on the Jeep’s soft top sounded like hail. Or bullets. My headlights barely pierced the water gushing from the sky, and I started to envision cows out on the interstate and how I’d never see them in time to swerve or stop. Wind railed at the doors, and I finally gave up and pulled over to the side of the highway to wait for the rain to abate. I wouldn’t do Michael any good if I ran off the road and died in a crash in some farmer’s field. Or in their cow repository. I snorted at the goblin’s words, but at least he’d given me intelligence on the cub.

  As the rain kept hammering down, I leaned my head back on the rest and closed my eyes, thinking I should have waited until morning to leave.

  But Willard was already up there, possibly getting herself in trouble, and Michael was…

  “Where are you, Michael?” I murmured.

  A stack of bills sat on the table in front of me, payment for the completion of my last assignment. My focus was on the golden liquid in the mug in front of me. It had started out in a shot glass, but that had been insufficient for my needs.

  My front door opened, and I had Fezzik out and pointing at it before the intruder walked in. It was Michael.

  I lowered the weapon to the table. “Some people knock before they barge into people’s houses.”

  “This is a studio apartment with a view of a brick wall, not a house, and I figured you’d welcome my entrance, given the triumphant success of our last rendezvous.” He wriggled his eyebrows, unconcerned that he could have ended up with a bullet in his chest. Or maybe he trusted that my reflexes were better than that.

  “The last t
ime we rendezvoused, we had sex in the Jeep.”

  “Triumphantly.”

  I grunted, far less ebullient over it. The gear shift had made me second-guess our choice that night numerous times.

  Michael closed the door and ambled over to sit opposite me at the table, resting a thick book next to Fezzik’s muzzle. “Nice wad of cash.”

  “I got paid for the Bellevue Bandit.”

  “The Bellevue Bandit who kept murdering the people in the meat-packing plants he was robbing?”

  “He won’t be murdering anyone else.”

  “That’s good. Was he a shifter?”

  “A troll with some magic to mask himself. If Hobbs hadn’t brought in someone who could see through that—” I tapped my chest, “—the troll might have gone on evading the law.”

  “So, you were key to stopping crime. Again.” Michael grinned. “Why do you look so glum? And what are you drinking? That looks more concentrated than your usual poison.” He waved to a six-pack of hard cider resting on the counter by the fridge.

  “Applejack.”

  “Very colonial. I’m sure George Washington would have approved.”

  “If you mock my drink, there will be no sex tonight.”

  “I thought that was already off the table, given that you greeted me with a gun and a glower.”

  “Isn’t that how I usually greet you?”

  “I suppose it is. Yet I’m here anyway.” He flashed another grin. “You’re lucky to have me.”

  “Yeah.” I sipped from the mug and set it back down. “The troll bandit had a kid. A whole community of trolls that he was providing for. I tracked him back to them, confronted him, and killed him. He was still wearing the shirt with his last victim’s blood on it, so there was no questioning his guilt, but… I wish his family hadn’t been watching.”

  “Maybe if he had a family, he shouldn’t have been murdering the people he stole from.”

  “He was a berserker troll—temper more explosive than fire ants crawling up your leg. I’m not sure he meant to kill people, but when he got backed into a corner…” I shrugged, wrestling with my feelings over the day. “Hobbs wanted his head. I brought in his head. He wouldn’t have been backed into corners if he hadn’t been thieving.”