by TR Cameron
He stared at it in silence for almost a full minute. Finally, with a nod, he produced a thick pencil and went to work. He started by outlining the outer edge of the piece she’d brought, then extrapolated from there to sketch the dimensions of the blade as it would have looked whole. Occasionally, he turned to the book for reference. In ten minutes, it was done. He had judged where the likely breaks had occurred based on the imperfections in her fragment and drawn cracks where they would be.
She sighed. His drawing showed five pieces that she didn’t have, not counting the pommel. They differed in size and shape but she had to give him credit. “That’s impressive work. How sure are you about the breaks?”
Alessand smiled and gave a small shrug. “Somewhere between fairly sure and very sure. You can see on your fragment where the notches are that suggest breakpoints, and I’ve made some informed guesses based on them. You don’t have any other fragments?”
She snorted. “I wish. I think I know where some might be.” Rion damn Grisham the artifact buyer. “And possibly another.” If the Atlantean shard is part of this, which is far from guaranteed. “But beyond that, I have nothing.”
He nodded. "Bring them, and I'll take a look at them. Perhaps I will see something in them that you've missed." He looked at Nylotte. "And you? Are you going to help her?"
The Dark Elf closed the book and handed it to him. “I already have. I introduced the two of you. What more do you want from me?”
He laughed. “You are working multiple angles, as always.” He turned to face Cali. “She knows it is my true passion to work on magical weapons. The ones you see here are all mundane and provide good practice. But if you can find the pieces, it would be my distinct pleasure to rejoin them for you.” He looked at Nylotte. “Which means you’d be doing me a favor if you helped her locate them.”
The sparkle in the Drow’s eyes was unmistakable. “Well then,” she all but purred. “How could I refuse?”
Chapter Five
Rion Grisham had passed a pleasant evening with the newest of his many female companions, dining and drinking at one of New Orleans’ most exclusive restaurants. She was upstairs in the hotel room waiting for him, and he was not at all pleased that he sat at the Sheraton bar waiting for the Zatora’s mage to arrive. The dim lighting and muffled conversation from the surrounding tables fit his irritated mood perfectly.
At first, he had truly enjoyed having the magical on his team and reveled in the fact that he had discovered a way to counter the biggest dangers from the nonhumans that increasingly filled his city. After several months of the man’s borderline insubordination, that had faded. Now, after more than a year and a half as purported allies, Ozahl grated on him. Daily, without a doubt, and on most days, multiple times. He currently looked for a replacement but had begun to learn that there weren’t many who were willing to work against their own side. Plus, his inquiries were necessarily minimal as he couldn’t allow word to reach the mage that he was trying to replace him.
So now, he nursed his Manhattan and scowled at the entrance with each minute that passed without his subordinate crossing the threshold.
He said this was urgent, so where the hell is he?
As if the thought was a spell, Ozahl appeared and sauntered into the room like he hadn’t a care in the world. The mage was dressed strangely out of character in jeans and a fashionable button-down shirt with a subtle gray-on-black pattern that showed when the light caught it at a certain angle. It took him a moment to realize that his instincts were tweaked by the man’s hair, which was a far lighter shade of brown than usual, including the eyebrows.
The Zatora shook his head with a frown. “It’s about time you got here. I thought you said it was urgent.”
The newcomer slid into the tall chair beside him and pointed at the bartender to order a round of the same for each of them. Tension showed in the lines near his eyes. “One of the teams that targeted the Atlanteans was hit tonight. The scumbags laid a trap and your people walked right into it.”
Grisham’s fist tightened around his glass, and he considered hurling it into the large mirror that made up the back of the serving area above and behind the rows of liquor bottles. “Did we lose anyone vital?”
Ozahl shook his head. “No. Middle-level only. No one important.”
He had a different view of the importance of every member of his organization than the mage did, but there was no point in arguing about it now. “So why is it urgent?”
“They left a message for us. Well, for you.” He paused as the bartender delivered the drinks, his black vest, white shirt, and bow tie a reminder that they were in a public place and he needed to control his temper.
Once again wishing he was anywhere but there, he growled under his breath and settled his features into a calm mask. “And this message said?”
The mage took a sip of his drink before he replied. “You’re next, Rion. That’s what it said.”
The gang leader emptied his glass to the ice cubes in a long swallow. “Did you bring it? So we can have it analyzed?”
His companion laughed darkly. “It was written in blood on a nearby building. I incinerated it as soon as I arrived so no one else would see it and think you were vulnerable.”
“That was a good decision.” His mind sifted through possible responses while his body signaled for a third drink. Both a plan and the glass appeared simultaneously. “So, they believe they’ll slow us by threatening me, do they? Well, they’re about to discover how wrong they are. For now, maintain the status quo but warn our people to be extra careful about traps. If there’s any worry, fade. But since they can’t cover everyone, we’ll still steal the drugs from them where we can.”
Ozahl nodded. “Will do. And after that?”
“I’ll let you know.” Grisham beckoned for the bartender. “Put the drinks on my room tab. My friend here can have whatever he wants.” He stood and patted his companion awkwardly on the shoulder. “Good work, as always. Now, I have someone waiting for me—assuming she hasn’t fallen asleep.”
Ozahl watched his supposed boss walk unsteadily from the bar. The man’s expensive suit looked a little tight.
He’s been hitting the bottle far more lately, looks like. He smiled and ordered drinks for a nearby table on Grisham’s tab, then left his own mostly unfinished and headed to the door.
Canal street was busy, as usual, with cars and people going in every direction, even into the final hours of Friday night. Past experience told him they’d still be at it into the early hours of Saturday morning as well. Once upon a time, he’d been a member of a group that partied the night away after they’d perpetrated mildly nefarious deeds, but that was many years before. He craved a quieter existence now, filled with frequently major nefarious deeds that inched him closer to the life of power and privilege he’d always coveted.
Speaking of craving… He pictured Danna as he’d last seen her, stretched out in bed sleeping, and hoped that her alleged superior wouldn’t keep her working for the whole night. Their time together was less plentiful than either of them liked as they furthered their individual plans to seize the resources of the New Orleans gangs and use them to push for primacy in New Atlantis. When one of the noble houses fell, they would need treasure, strength, and audacity in equal measures to step into the void.
And it was time to take another big stride in that direction. The first alley he checked had two people making a deal of some kind in it, but the next was empty. He hurried out of sight of the main street, summoned a portal, and stepped through onto a rooftop that overlooked one of the Atlanteans’ primary drug distribution locations. A little smaller than where he, Lila, and Dalton had struck before, this position had the advantage of being at the intersection of two less-traveled streets. Here, they worked the corners with the seller on one, the money person on the next, and the individual holding the drugs on a third.
Tonight, he identified an additional member of the magical contingent, a hard-looking man who
stood idly on the fourth corner and attempted to look like a junkie. His eyes were far too alert to achieve that particular illusion, though. Ozahl decided that might make the attack the Zatora hit team had planned a little more challenging than usual.
The humans had brought only three, one woman and two men. They wore the jeans and button-down shirt combination that was the uniform of the lowest level of the organization, and he laughed at the fact that the woman’s look was very similar to his own.
Better her than the gruesome twosome following her, though. He knew all of them and they had about a brain and a half if you added it all together, most of it lodged in her skull.
This ought to be good. He watched as they reached the point where they had an angle on two of the Atlanteans. The supposed junkie was on the opposite side of a wide utility pole from their approach, and the one who held the product was protected by stone walls that ran up both sides of the stairs he sat on and blocked him from their view and them from his.
The Zatoras drew suppressed pistols from under the backs of their shirts and pulled the triggers without preamble. Two aimed at the figure across the street on the right and the third at the Atlantean nearest them on the right. One of the longer shots missed and the bullet drove into the brick side of a building with a loud thwack, but the other caught the target in the shoulder. The woman’s shot at the closest enemy struck the center of his back and he fell face-first.
The gang member’s melodic voice was a counterpoint to her harsh words. “You two look for the third. I’ll make sure the loser over there is dead.” His bird’s-eye view of the situation allowed him to watch the man with the backpack full of drugs draw his pistol at the sound of the gunshots and crouch in readiness behind the short wall. He locked gazes with the fourth member and nodded, and they moved as one.
Both men rushed from hiding with their weapons raised. The Atlantean shot the incoming Zatora with a triple burst, then spun to race away. The other fired at the woman, who turned calmly and returned her own barrage when his rounds went wide and the assault hurled him from his feet. She surged forward and stopped in the middle of the street and the car that had entered the area during the battle stopped behind her with a squeal of tires. She continued to pull the trigger until the gun clicked empty but the volley felled the runner. The driver turned the vehicle frantically around the corner and accelerated to clear the scene.
She advanced calmly to her fallen foe and retrieved the backpack, then joined her ally at the side of their wounded teammate. The heads shook in unison and told the story.
One of theirs gone, all the Atlanteans dead or dying. Good job, Zatoras. Too bad you won’t have the chance to celebrate your success.
Ozahl launched himself off the roof and used force magic to cushion his landing behind the two gang members. They turned and broke into smiles at the sight of him. The woman was about to speak when he delivered a magical shadow bolt into her chest. The attack catapulted the Zatora onto her back, and her skull struck the pavement with a loud crack. The man beside her lost precious seconds to shock but managed to draw his gun before the wash of fire swept over him. He screamed and thrashed in an effort to extinguish the flames but his shrieks cut off in moments when he died. The mage sighed at what he considered the ineptitude of the humans.
The gun had fallen from the woman’s hands and she lay on her back, panting, and her eyes were defocused. Blood pooled around her head. Perfect. So convenient. He knelt beside her and used a thin line of flame to cut a section of her shirt away, then dropped it in the dark-red liquid.
She whispered, “Why?”
He shrugged. “For the same reason you did what you did to the Atlanteans. There’s something I want and this is the path to get it. I’d say I’m sorry you wound up in the middle, but that would be a lie.” She seemed like she was about to reply, perhaps to challenge him or beg for mercy, when her eyes fluttered closed and she lost consciousness. He waited and watched until her breathing stopped, then ensured that all the fallen were beyond being able to tell the truth of what had occurred.
With the bloody rag, he wrote, “You’re next, Rion,” on the closest wall. He incinerated the fabric when he was done and checked himself carefully for bloodstains. Satisfied that there were none, he sent Grisham another text for an urgent meeting first thing in the morning.
I hope it ruins your night, you giant bag of ooze. With a smile at the mental image of the man’s rage, Ozahl portaled home to await his partner.
Chapter Six
Usha, comfortably seated in her preferred place at the far end of the long bar that ran along the main room of the club, waited patiently and watched as the last stragglers departed the Shark Nightclub. She and her second in command, Danna Cudon, had spent the evening enjoying the music, laughing at the people, and discussing in the broadest of terms the potential plans for expanding the nightclub or opening another location.
With the influx of business generated by the demand for the gang’s new drugs, Zarcanum and Shine, a corresponding need to increase their ability to launder the money gained from it had emerged. They weren’t experts at such things, and the gang leader intended to seek guidance from Empress Shenni and her advisors, but it had been an enjoyable discussion if not entirely practical. There was no one in the world, save the Empress herself, who she felt more comfortable with—more able to be her true self with—than Danna.
Tonight, the woman was dressed in a navy business suit with a purple shirt and crimson tie that somehow all worked perfectly together. She’d taken to wearing more fashionable footwear of late, and the red pumps were a perfect match to the shade at her neck. Given the workload placed on her, it was a wonder she had time to shop.
Maybe she has a boyfriend or girlfriend taking care of that for her. It might be worth putting someone on her to find out so I can tease her about it.
Finally, the door was closed and locked, and the work lights came on overhead. She nodded and finished her drink, then stood and stretched. “Let’s head to the back.” Danna rose and followed her down the hallway to the office, where they each took one of the couches. The suited woman sat carefully on the edge of the seat, and Usha smoothed her long dress as she reclined at full length on the cushions and stared at the ceiling above, a throw pillow under her head and her feet on the far arm of the furniture.
“So, talk to me about the protection you’ve introduced against the Zatoras.” The attempted attack a few nights before that Caliste had foiled had alerted them that the criminal organization now actively targeted their people. They’d discussed options for retaliation but hadn’t put any into motion yet and both agreed that the topic still needed further conversation before actions were taken.
Danna sighed. “They have the strategic advantage since we need to be more or less in the same locations in order to reach our clients. For now, they haven’t been able to strike the Zarcanum because we continue to take care of those people personally. It’s proving to be a real strain, however.”
The Atlantean leader nodded. Her second had asked for more person-power to support their expansion and so far, none had materialized. The risk of bringing someone in who might act against them was high but soon, there would be no other choice. “Well, that’s something anyway. And the Shine?”
“It’s a completely different story. They know where we’ll be and they appear more often than not. Our people will run and regroup if they see anyone and each team now has an additional member in support. The situation is cutting into the profits, but not so much that it’s a huge issue—yet.”
The implication that it would become one was obvious and again, without more personnel, addressing it would be a challenge. “What do you recommend?”
Danna shrugged. “We should launch retaliatory strikes—hard. Wipe them out so they can’t rise up again.”
She closed her eyes and considered the idea in silence. It wasn’t the first time that solution had been suggested and it held definite appeal. With the Zatora orga
nization shattered, there wouldn’t be much in the way of opposition, at least until someone stepped in to fill the void. Her Atlanteans would be able to expand rapidly and claim a large portion of what the humans currently possessed.
And yet, that would require more people too. I’ll have to quit whining and ask the Empress.
Usha hated the idea of imposing on her ruler, especially after the monarch had provided enforcers for the battles against Caliste Leblanc. If that had delivered better results, it would have been easier to request more support, but the damned girl had proven to be both skilled and resilient and was an ongoing challenge.
Her sigh was both regretful and impatient. “No, we can’t do it. Not yet. We don’t have the people to succeed, not even if we managed to gain complete surprise.”
“What if we could get most of them into one place?”
The gang leader turned her head to gaze at her subordinate. “Come again?”
Danna responded with a thin smile. “What if we arranged things so the whole gang was drawn together for some reason? We could assault that location with everything we have and boom, game over for the Zatora organization.”
“That’s an interesting possibility. What would make them gather like that?”
“A funeral.” The words were flat but urgent. Clearly, her second had thought this approach through and liked it.
She nodded slowly. “It would have to be someone high up.”
“Grisham has three lieutenants, according to our watchers, at least one of whom we’ve seen in person at the Tavern. One is remarkably like him, the second could pass as muscle but is evidently more, and the third must be a magical, or so they say.”
