Ash Addict

by Al K. Line

  On numerous message boards, forums, and other covert places the magical community liked to hang out, it was the same thing. A buzz of excitement, tales of violence, helicopters, gunfire, and spectacular magical emanations visible for miles.

  Ivan had posted, or got someone to post, the Cerberus warehouse location far and wide. Now, people knew the old storage facility was at Cerberus HQ, the ancient building in the big smoke, but until me and my motley crew had tried to break in nobody had gone near it as it was too well protected and too difficult to rob without untold innocent casualties. You can't attack a building in a city center and steal vast numbers of artifacts and hope to get away. It just couldn't happen, as I discovered.

  But a place out in the country? That was a different story entirely. And a place that had already been smashed the shit out of? Easy pickings. And its owners were preoccupied with something else, and there were holes in the roof and all the artifacts were exposed? If everyone attacked at once they couldn't fail. Why the hell not? Bring it on.

  That seemed to be the general consensus. People were either going, were already there and updating live on social media platforms, or had been, tried their luck, failed, and beat a hasty retreat. The Hounds were defending the place well enough, but I knew, as did everyone else, that they could only hold out for so long. If the place was attacked repeatedly, by enough of us, then it would fall.

  It was just an excuse really. Ivan and I knew it had to happen sooner or later, it was why I'd kept quiet. That, and Carmichael had promised to leave me and mine alone. Well, he'd lied, and liars deserved all they got.

  I had no doubt that come the morning, Cerberus would be nothing but a group of posh twats in tweed wondering what the hell they did wrong. How would the Hounds react once they'd been beaten? That was a concern. They were highly trained, immersed in the life, knew nothing else, and utterly dedicated to the cause. They couldn't survive, because they wouldn't give up. Ever.

  I logged out of everything the way Vicky had shown me, and closed down the series of untraceable paths I'd used to check the news. It seemed unnecessary, but Vicky said it was what all users with any sense did so nobody could track them down and hack their devices, so I did as I was told and hoped I'd done it right.

  Man, Vicky would be spitting by now. She'd be online devouring all the gossip, dying to be part of this, and she wasn't. She was at home, with the girls, out of the loop for once. I toyed with the idea of calling her, seeing if she wanted to come along, but I stopped myself, as that was stupid. This wasn't her fight, wasn't me doing a job and things going haywire, us getting away with the goodies nonetheless. This was war, or soon would be, and she wasn't cut out for it. Okay, she was, as strange at that seemed. She would probably fare well, and that worried me. She was already corrupted by the wild side, but this could be a step too far for her and she might never be the same again. It's one thing seeing the odd dead body and all the gory bits that our skin holds in, quite another to be amid true carnage.

  Seeing such sights can cause irreparable damage to the psyche, taint you, stain you on the inside. Many a soldier has found it impossible to adjust to normal life after witnessing true horror. I didn't want that for Vicky. Heck, I didn't want that for me. So, for once, while I had it in my power to decide, Vicky could sit this one out.

  Plus, and I smiled as I thought about it, I could rub her nose in it for years to come. She'd hate that the most. Tee-hee.

  "So it's me and you then?" asked Wand, stirring in my pocket.

  "Looks that way, buddy. You up for this?"

  "I feel like a new stick. Raring to go. It'll be nice, me and you spending time together."

  "Sure will. Just us guys, doing bloke stuff."

  "Awesome. Um, not to state the obvious or anything, but you do know what we're missing out on, right?"

  "How'd you mean?"

  "You know, the warehouse full of magical artifacts every magic user in the country now knows the whereabouts of. Shouldn't we, er, go get some of it? Like, most of it? Or all? If we don't, then everyone else will get it. Or Cerberus will find a way to stop them and nobody will have anything. Wouldn't it be a good idea, I mean, kinda just and righteous, for us to steal it all before anyone else does?"

  I slapped myself on the head and said, "Let's go get my bag then."

  I hadn't even considered the fact everyone would get their hands on untold magical artifacts. With all the madness, I was thinking more about Cerberus being destroyed and hopefully not getting killed by rogue vampires, when I should have been focusing on what I did best. Nicking artifacts and getting good cash for them.

  Besides, that'd piss Cerberus off even more, knowing I had their goodies. I already had a load of things I'd been drip-feeding back to Carmichael after I broke in last time, so it felt right to finish the job. Sure, I'd leave the others some, but before I met with Ivan and the fighting began in earnest I was gonna go fill my boots and retire on the profits.

  Not literally, because, you know, what else would I do? But at least I'd have the option.

  "To Satan's Breath," I shouted as I held Wand aloft and we both howled like excited kids given a free pass to Disneyland.

  This was gonna be awesome.

  Super Speedy Pick Up

  With no time to appreciate the crap architecture or ponder the future of my decaying city, I stomped over ruined asphalt and weeds then dashed through the entrance to Satan's Breath. I scribbled my name in the ledger as the Turk scratched at a hairy, sweaty armpit, and shouted, "Don't need a towel," as he tried to hand me a disturbingly yellow-stained soggy rag that hung limper than his mustache. Guess he'd forgotten his styling balm.

  The Turk grunted, then muttered, "Wizards," but I was already past him and sprinting to the changing room. I checked my wards were still in place, made sure the room was empty, then lowered them and took out my infinite bag.

  It was still full—although I know that makes no sense—held countless items both magical and mundane, and was playing nice so weighed next to nothing and even morphed from the shape of a Mary Poppins-esque knitting bag into a rather nice looking canvas satchel. I thanked the bag for behaving so well, as it was wont to become impossibly heavy or bulky, or worst of all turn into a garish, shiny monstrosity with a brand name plastered all over it which I'd be ashamed to have out in public, and put the strap across my shoulder. Locker closed, I put the wards up and contemplated a quick sauna, maybe a dip in the lava pool, but I didn't have time.

  With a rapid about turn, I was out of there, waving at the Turk as I whacked open the doors; cool night air made a welcome change to the inferno inside.

  Back in the car, I set the bag next to me, started up the engine, and drove like I'd been recruited by the emergency services. Flashing lights, that's what I needed. Why hadn't I thought of that before. Wizard emergency, that was a thing, right?

  "This is gonna be so epic," said Wand, wedged into the hole where you used to get cigarette lighters so he was upright.

  "Imagine what we can get. We hardly touched the surface when we raided them last time. There was loads more, thousands of items."

  "Wonder what it will be worth?"

  "Millions. Maybe billions. Carmichael is such a dick. If he'd behaved he would have got all his things back. I was keeping to my word and returning it all. So stupid."

  "He hates that we got the better of him. Can't stand it. We showed him then, and we'll show him now."

  "You bet we will. He'll be in a right mess, stressed that his little kidnapping didn't go as planned, and now he'll have every wizard in the country to deal with. We should leave some for everyone else though, not be too greedy."

  "Course, goes without saying. We'll take some, and leave some. Redistributing the wealth, that's what we're doing. Like a magical Robin Hood but better dressed."

  "Definitely without the tights," I agreed, our infectious excitement goading each other into higher degrees of talking utter crap.

  "Hey, what exactly did we get last ti
me?"

  "Very cool stuff, dangerous too, but I don't know. The bag ate it all and isn't keen on letting me see much, so now I just put my hand in and grab a few boxes to give them back. Most of it's a mystery and maybe that's for the best."

  "True. If you know what's inside you could be in for a world of hurt."

  "Exactly. So once we get the goodies, no ripping the lids off. It has to be controlled, done safely, or anything could happen."

  "You know me, always thinking safety first."

  I glanced at Wand but he looked like he was being serious. Deadpan and staring straight ahead. "Hmm."

  "What? I'm a cautious kind of stick."

  "You are not. You can't wait to blast anything that moves."

  "Only if it's threatening us. Or, um, might threaten us in the future. Or looks a bit dodgy."

  "Okay, have it your way. Just restrain yourself. And no funny business."

  "Like what?" asked Wand, turning to face me, although I don't know how he did it. He had no sides, just two ends, but he did it anyway.

  "Like going off and doing your own thing without my say so."

  Wand was silent for several seconds as I put my foot down and overtook a lorry. "Arthur, you do know I can't do anything unless you want me to, right? You do know that? I have told you, but you seem to have this blind spot about me, like I'm nothing to do with you at times."

  "You do stuff I don't want all the time. You keep saying this but I don't believe it. Sure, I made you, but you're from magic wood and the sigils and spells I put inside give you sentience. With that, you have freedom of a sort."

  "You, my friend, are completely wrong. I am you. Everything I do is what you want me to do. Admit it or not, but that's the truth."

  I thought on this for a while. "Ha, what about the time you blasted that strange looking dude with the pointy hat and... No, wait, that was a good move. Or the time that weird creature came out of the attic in that house and you made her... No, I think I did that. Hang on, I'll think of something."

  Several minutes later, Wand asked, "Give up yet? Admit I'm right?"

  "Yeah, maybe," I grumbled, then sped up as I hit an empty stretch of road, the excitement building the closer we got.

  My phone rang, which was weird. Nobody had the number.

  Don't Do It

  Against my better judgment, I screeched to a stop in a layby and answered the phone.

  "Where are you?" asked a stressed sounding Ivan.

  "Um, got held up. Sorry, be a little late."

  "Arthur, this is important. Extremely important. I thought we had an arrangement?"

  "Look, I've been kidnapped, poisoned, attacked, and probably loads of other stuff I can't remember. I need time. If I'm not together then I'm gonna get myself, and maybe you, killed." I sniggered as I covered the phone. Tee-hee, I was so gonna get all Cerberus' stuff.

  "Hmm. You aren't trying to pull a fast one, are you? You wouldn't be contemplating sneaking into the warehouse and helping yourself to the loot in the confusion, leaving me waiting for you?"

  "What!? Ivan, that hurts."

  "I know you better than you think. We need this resolved, and it has to be done now."

  "And like I said, I'll help. But this is your mess, you got me into this because you did something utterly idiotic, and I need some time. As long as you don't get yourself captured then nobody can find the ashes, right?"

  "Right." Ivan sounded anything but sure.

  "Okay then. So, hang tight, I'll be there in a few hours. Then we'll get the ashes and job's a good 'un. We cool?"

  "Do I have any choice in the matter?" Ivan sighed, I think he was a bit fed up.

  "Not really," I replied happily, then hung up and was doing seventy before I had chance to let his words sway me from my adventure.

  Ninja Mode

  Traffic, which there should have been a distinct absence of, became a real inconvenience as I left the city behind. People were driving erratically, breaking the speed limit, overtaking on dangerous bends, swerving into the middle of the road, and generally acting like nutters. What was with these guys?

  "You're pretty dense sometimes," said Wand with a sigh.

  "You are," I countered. That'd teach him to mess with the master of retorts.

  "Why'd you think the traffic's screwed? At this time of night? Out here in the middle of nowhere?"

  "Um, is it a school holiday? Bank holiday? Dunno. Some kind of festival?"

  "You could call it a festival of sorts. Everyone's going where we're going, you muppet."

  "Oh, yeah, course. I knew that." I didn't, it hadn't clicked, but now I thought about it, there were a suspiciously large number of exceedingly crap cars. As I drove, now as fast as I could go without crashing, and overtook several ancient vehicles and took the time to actually look inside them, it was very clear I wasn't alone in my pursuit of mountains of magical artifacts.

  The drivers, and most had passengers, were not what you would describe as average-looking citizens. All had an abundance of hair, most had cloaks or hats or flowing beards, often all of those things, and their cars ranged from clapped-out to old VW camper vans with hippy paintings on the side which were sure to contain a lot of women in flowing dresses would be hiding in back, throwing herbs into pots and cackling.

  The race was on to get to the warehouse before every other magical adept in the country. Damn, I should have planned ahead, tried to delay the news breaking of where the largest magical hoard in our history was based and that it was open season on Cerberus. Now look at the bunch of numpties I'd have to deal with to secure my prizes.

  No matter, they were them, and I was me. The Hat. I knew the place better than any of them, knew the damage that had already been done. This lot would turn up, think they could do a little magic and get inside, but I knew better. You had to be stealthy, like a wizard ninja, and that was exactly what I intended to be.

  I wished I could use the Teleron, but with the way things had gone the last few days, with my luck I'd jump into the warehouse only to find myself fused to a Hound and that would be damn annoying and very gross.

  Instead, I settled for driving like a lunatic and getting close before the rest of them, which, to my dismay, I found was an exercise in futility. The nearer I got, the worse the traffic became, until we were moving at a snail's pace. We passed numerous broken down vehicles, angry wizards muttering while kicking their car tires as steam hissed from the radiators, others using magic to remove vans, cars, and motorcycles from ditches, and we even passed one old dude stomping on the roof of a crumpled Volvo wrapped around a tree.

  Wizards, and witches, were not always the most well-off people, and their vehicles reflected that. Many hardly drove, having other, more magical means of travel, so their prowess behind the wheel was somewhat lacking. Plus, as a species, us magical users had a nasty habit of crashing a lot, getting easily distracted by other things, or merely coping with the tiredness most of us lived with—the life of an adept is not conducive to a good night's rest. It must be the horrors we've witnessed, maybe what we've done, or the primordial energies swishing around our bodies. Either way, we zoned out a lot, and although I liked to think of myself as special, because, let's face it, I am, I wasn't alone in dealing with insomnia.

  Until Penelope. Now I slept like a baby more often than not. Not always, but enough to feel like a new man, with a vigor and vitality I'd assumed was lost for good, hadn't felt for so long I'd forgotten even existed. It was incredible to wake up feeling refreshed with her beside me, and I was still amazed it was real.

  So should I be racing around the country getting involved in this crap when she was at home in bed? Shouldn't I be more responsible?

  No, I told myself. This was why you didn't want to get involved with her, because you knew she'd make you doubt your way of life. This was who I was, what I did, and I had to separate the two or I'd never get a thing done and I'd lose my mojo. Danger was part of what made me who I was, and without it I wouldn't be who
le. I'd shrivel up, be no good to her or myself. I needed this, my drug of choice. My addiction. My lifeline to existence.

  So, all doubts cast aside, I gave up any pretense of driving, pulled over to the side of the road, locked up the car, and headed across country to finalize dastardly plans that would go down in history as the most audacious robbery the magical community had ever known.

  Second time lucky, as the first time it hadn't worked out exactly as planned.

  A Swarm of Wizards

  I heard it long before I saw it. As I emerged from the woods, only having to hide from a few Hounds but many more nefarious magic users who seemed incapable of sneaking, and thus, got mowed down before they could cause much trouble, the sight that lay before me was one of utter confusion with a large dollop of carnage.

  Helicopters flew overhead, their whirring blades almost drowning out the cries and screams. Battalions of Hounds dressed in full riot gear, maybe even with ward-protected Kevlar, fought against lone wizards, groups of witches, and other magic users. I was sure there were a few citizens-in-the-know spread amongst them too, and undoubtedly, judging by the portly girth and look of utter freaked-outness, several collectors of artifacts who couldn't pass up a chance of endless bounty.

  Many were dead, many were wounded, but the Hounds were losing. It was inevitable. Out they came, those who'd dedicated their lives to magic, swarming from all directions, hell-bent on not only claiming artifacts for their own, but risking life and limb because they hated Cerberus as much as everyone else.

  Cerberus had taken so much from so many over the years, and their means were less than diplomatic. Hounds went rogue, killing indiscriminately, others were tasked with eliminating those who collected items of interest, and they stole. But above all, they hoarded what we all felt should belong to the community.

  Magic was for using, not for hiding away under lock and key. It went against everything we stood for and we'd stand for it no longer.

  So here they came. Old, young, tall, short, adept, or novice, clutching makeshift weapons, powerful staffs, fearsome wands, or just your basic AK47. Familiars screeched from high above, warning of the helicopters, guiding their masters over the ruined terrain, their eagle eyes, or raven, maybe even pigeon, sharp and focused, finding the entry points.