by TR Cameron
Usha sat and leaned her back against the cushions to face Danna without looking at her. “What kind?”
“Not a Kilomea, anyway.” She laughed. “He’s humanoid with no sign of pointed ears, so I would guess a wizard.”
“How did Grisham get a magical to work for him?”
The woman merely shrugged again. “Who knows? Money, probably. Everyone needs money.”
“Was he one of the two at the bar?” She frowned as she thought back.
Her subordinate shook her head. “I don’t think so. The first one was there, though.”
“Okay. I guess this requires more information. So, do what you can to find out what we need and we’ll see where things go.” Danna nodded. “Now, we must work on the Leblanc challenge. The Empress’s desire to turn her to our side makes the situation significantly more complicated so it would be best if we could simply kill her during one of the ritual battles.”
“We’re ready for the next one, the four-on-four. I’ve brought in a couple of experts from out of town.”
Usha smiled. “Excellent. But just in case, let’s get to work on the backup plan to weaken her support system. There are several people who we know are important to her. The convict, Tanyith.” She would have started with him on general principles, as he had been an irritant since the instant she’d first laid eyes on him before he’d been sent to Trevilsom prison. However, that wasn’t practical, and cool-headed rationality was what the moment required. “The dwarf who owns the bar. The kid she performs with. And the relative.”
The other woman nodded. “If we cast a little wider, she’s been seen going into the library fairly often lately. The gnomes are most likely a connection. And, of course, her Aikido teacher. And the Draksa.” The last word came out as a snarl.
“Certainly, the creature would provide the greatest loss, but it would be difficult to separate him from her. Plus, he’s formidable in his own right. The dwarf, too, would be devastating. But I think there’s more readily plucked fruit available that would have an outsized impact.”
“The boy.”
Usha smiled. “You know my thinking so well. Yes, the one she spends time with in Jackson Square. He would be an easy target as long as she wasn’t with him. It would also send a clear message that those around her are in danger because of her and that they are generally unable to protect themselves from us. Finally, it avoids getting into the level of a blood feud that harming a relative would.”
Danna raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “We’re already at that level.”
She chuckled. “True, true, but the girl doesn’t know it was us who sent her parents on to the next life. And there’s no need for her to, not for a while anyway—if ever. No, I think the choice is clear.”
“When?”
“I can’t see a reason to wait. As soon as you can do it safely. See to it personally.”
Her second rose with a nod. “Excellent. I’ll get started on it in the morning.”
Usha grinned. “Do you have a hot date?”
“Not tonight.” The woman rolled her eyes. “It’s far too late for that. No, I need to get my beauty sleep. This”—she gestured to indicate herself—“doesn’t happen by itself.”
They laughed together, and the woman exited and closed the door softly behind her. Usha lay on the couch again and decided she was too tired to bother to portal home when the furniture she was already on was so comfortable.
Danna stepped out onto the nighttime street and decided she needed a short walk to clear her head from the drinks and the smoke and the many potential actions running amok in her mind. Keeping the overarching plans she shared with her true partner out of her thoughts while dealing with Usha was a challenge.
Much like Caliste Leblanc and the Empress herself.
There was still time enough for her to get home and spend a few hours with the mage before sleep would claim them both if nothing had changed since they’d last seen one another. She looked forward to the day when they would leave their double lives behind and take their rightful places among the New Atlantean elite.
She prayed for a way to accomplish it without destroying Usha in the process. In truth, the other woman was as close as she’d ever had to a true friend, aside from the mage. They’d discussed bringing her in with them on the plan, but it was too risky. If word got out, their long game might be undermined. She hoped to invite her to join them—not as part of their household but on their property as her most trusted advisor and confidant. It was perhaps a step down for the woman and she could only pray her pride would allow her to accept it. Of course, the chances were better if the Empress fell at another’s hand, which would leave Usha disconnected from her own support system.
Exactly like we’ll do with you, Cali. I hope you have a performance planned with your friend for this afternoon because it’ll be the last one you’ll ever have.
Chapter Seven
Cali sighed in exasperation as she peered at the Light Elf seated at the back of the Tavern. “Look, it’s simple. If you like Guinness and you like cider, you’ll like a snakebite. If you dislike either of those, I would highly recommend you don’t order one.”
The patron shook his head thoughtfully and his perfectly styled long blond hair swayed in a way he no doubt thought enticing. She risked a glance at his date and the female Light Elf rolled her eyes and proclaimed, “Well, I’ll try it.”
“Wonderful.” She managed to unclench her teeth enough to speak coherently. “Would you like to make it two?” His reply was preempted by the loud thud when the front door slammed against the wall. Every eye turned to the entrance as one of her best friends staggered through, his chest heaving and his eyes wild. She rushed over to him and pulled him to a chair at the bar. “Dasante, what’s wrong?”
Zeb pushed a soft cider into his hand, and he drank deeply. Sweat stood out on his dark skin and his wavy black hair was in disarray. His magician’s costume of black jeans and button-down shirt wasn’t a great choice for running, clearly. Finally, he coughed, expelled a lungful of air, and seemed to draw in the ability to speak with the next inhale.
“There was an attack…in Jackson Square. A busker was found dead in the bushes. He—” Dasante took another long drink before he finished the thought. “He looked very similar to me and he was close to my usual position. I worked with Jen and Jax on the other corner, closer to Cafe du Monde. I didn’t see what happened but heard the screaming and went to see what happened. Then, I guess I panicked.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember anything between seeing the body and opening the door here.”
He rose on shaky legs. “I have to get back and make sure they’re okay.”
Cali presumed he meant the other two buskers, but he might have referred to everyone in the square. His heart was at least three sizes too big. She pushed him into the chair. “No, you stay right here until you can function again and Zeb will call a ride to take you home.” The dwarf nodded and his expression signaled approval as well as agreement.
She tossed her notepad and pen on the bar. “I, on the other hand, will go to find out who did this so I can kick their asses into the bloody ocean.”
Where, hopefully, they’ll be eaten by a shark. Slowly.
Side streets and rooftops provided the best route for Cali to be able to use her magic to amplify her speed without attracting notice. Letting some of the constant pressure trickle out was a good feeling and one she could get used to.
Exactly what Emalia warned me about. But if this doesn’t call for it, I’m not sure what would.
Fyre flew overhead and kept watch for potential ambushes since her reaction to the news would have been fairly easy to predict.
She was positive that whatever had happened had something to do with her, at best, and was her fault, at worst. She no longer believed in coincidence, not when so many different people and groups took an active interest in her life. No, this was an attack, albeit indirectly. It was a small step from there to conclude that Dasante ha
d been the intended target and only luck or stupidity had intervened to save him from being the one found in the bushes.
When she reached the alley before the building that bordered the square, she paused to collect herself. Once her breathing had slowed sufficiently, she leapt from the three-story roof and used force magic to cushion her landing. She strode to the end of the narrow street, turned right on Decatur, and walked briskly toward the position she and Dasante usually called home. Fyre flew lazy circles above and sent a steady thread of assurance across the mental channel that connected them.
Flashing lights illuminated the darkness in red and blue, and bright yellow caution tape blocked the entrance to the square. She caught a break when familiar features appeared briefly in the beam of a swung flashlight. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Detective Barton.”
The NOPD officer’s head spun toward her and revealed the neutral-cop face she had seen the other woman wear a number of times before. “Let her in,” Barton called.
The uniformed man who manned the tape lifted it for her with a muttered, “Don’t step on any evidence, okay?”
She didn’t waste the time to give him the snarky reply the comment deserved. I’m not an idiot. Even if I weren’t studying the field, I’ve seen at least a couple of episodes of every one of the CSI shows. She moved carefully through the markers that were seemingly placed at random around the area and arrived at Barton’s side. “How bad is it?”
The other woman shrugged. “Murders are always bad but it’s worse when it’s someone this young who isn’t playing the game.” She’d explained that term once during a late-night chat at the Drunken Dragons. It was commonly used by gang task forces to refer to those who battled for territory and influence.
“Can I take a look at him?” The detective didn’t ask how she knew the victim was male and merely led her to a position where she wouldn’t interfere but could see. He was utterly and unnaturally still, the dark skin at his neck stained red by a slash across it that had opened an artery. “Blood loss?” she asked.
Barton nodded. “Most likely. We won’t know for sure until the coroner is finished with her examination, but it seems clear.” There was always the possibility that the obvious wound had been inflicted to disguise some other cause of death, but that was surely not a possibility in this case.
“Do you have any idea why?”
Her companion stared into her eyes before she responded. “It’s too early to tell. Maybe you have something you want to share?”
Cali sighed. “He looks like Dasante. And I have a long list of enemies these days.” At the other woman’s gesture, she followed her to a less populated part of the square.
The detective stopped and looked at the sky. “Wasn’t all that stuff supposed to be kept within a fairly specific set of rules?”
She nodded. “‘Supposed to be’ seems like the right phrase. Although, as far as I know, the restrictions are only against attacking me, not those I care about.”
“So, anyone who knows you is in danger is what you’re saying.”
The harsh statement made her flinch but her companion wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Barton shook her head but didn’t look away. “If we discover evidence connecting this to you, I could attempt to have resources assigned to watch over some of your key supporters. I don’t think it will be easy to find, unfortunately. Plus, there’s no way to tell which of your many admirers did this as far as I can see.”
“Let me try something.” She sat cross-legged on the night-chilled pavement. The way her magic had revealed secrets for her like the entrance to her parents’ bunker and at the house in New Atlantis had made her wonder if it could do more of that. Now seemed as good a time as any to experiment, given the lack of any other clues.
Ignoring everything around her, Cali focused inward and first stored the cacophony of thoughts that jostled around in her brain. Once they were packed into their corners, she opened a small funnel to allow her power to flow out of her and asked it to find any hints of what had really happened. Previously, it had been able to sense other magics, and it was her hope that if magic had been involved in this killing, there would be some kind of residue she could detect.
Behind her closed eyes, an image of the square formed in outlines like gray strokes on a black background. She turned her head slowly and the picture shifted until she looked at the corner where the body lay in lifeless repose. The lines that outlined it glowed slightly and the slash across the neck shone brighter than the rest. She narrowed her concentration onto that line in an attempt to discern what her magic tried to tell her. A chill ran across her throat along the same vector as his wound, and she was suddenly positive he’d been killed by a shard of magical ice.
Her excitement threatened her focus, so she paused to gather her attention again until it was as thin and precise as a laser beam. A slight glimmer in the air above the body formed into a line as she probed it and connected to a splotch on the iron fence and a place on the roof of the cathedral at the opposite end. Her face twisted in confusion for a moment because the line didn’t make sense with the mark on his neck.
Unless there was something that made him look up. A distraction, maybe, like I can do with my mental magic. Yeah, that must have been it.
She stood and brushed her jeans off, then met Barton’s expectant eyes. “It was magical, it was ice, and it came from the top of the cathedral.”
They both turned to peer at the structure at the far end of the square. “Why ice?” the detective asked. “Is that a clue?”
Cali nodded. “I assume it is. It wouldn’t mean anything to someone who didn’t know Fyre’s magic is ice, but I think that’s why they chose it.”
“So who knows that?”
She laughed. “The Atlanteans here. The Malniets we fought when they came into the city. Anyone who saw the battle at the docks.”
A small rueful smile creased the other woman’s face. “So that’s not particularly useful then.”
“No, not so much.” She shook her head. “But hopefully, I’ll be able to find something up there.”
A frown replaced the smile. “I suppose it makes sense for you to take the first look. But if there’s any actual physical evidence, do your best not to ruin it, okay? My people will climb up and work the scene once you’re done.”
“I would never try to get in the way of you doing your job, Detective.” She grinned when Barton rolled her eyes, then jogged away before the woman could find a response.
The small lane to the right side of St. Louis Cathedral, called Pere Antoine alley, provided enough cover for her to launch up to the sloped roof that crowned the structure. From there, she climbed the large decorative block at the front center of the building. As soon as she reached the top of it, she knew she’d found the place where the attack originated. The sightline through the trees was perfect. All that would have been required was a way to get him in there, and the options would have been plentiful if they’d managed to penetrate his mental barriers.
Sadly, there was no actual evidence, physical or magical, to confirm who it was. She clambered to the roof and sat beside Fyre once he landed on the small flat piece that ran along the centerline of the Cathedral. “Did you see anything that might tell us who it was?”
The Draksa shook his head. “No. Not even watchers. Apparently, it wasn’t meant as a trap, only as a way to hurt you.”
She sighed. “They can’t beat me fairly so they go after people I care about. This changes things. It changes things completely.”
He nodded. “No more letting enemies walk away from fights, then.” It was a statement, not a question, and held overtones of regret.
“Right. No more Miss Nice Matriarch.” Cali shook her head. “Let’s head down and ask Barton to keep an eye on Emalia, anyway, and Dasante. Everyone else can probably take care of themselves.”
Fyre chuckled. “I doubt your great aunt would enjoy hearing you suggest she can’t
defend herself.”
She grinned. “Oh, I know she’s up to it. But I need her to help me find out where the rest of the damn sword pieces are so I don’t want her distracted.” The mirth faded quickly. She wasn’t looking forward to what she’d have to do, but her enemies had left her no other choice.
The best thing I can do is get this all over as fast as possible.
Suddenly, the Draksa stiffened. “Do you smell that?”
Cali shook her head and bolted to her feet. “No, what is it?”
He growled, “Fire,” and launched skyward. When she saw he was flying on a trajectory to Emalia’s shop, she used a force blast to hurtle after him.
Chapter Eight
As she soared over the trees and the fence that separated the Square from the pathways and streets that bounded it, the first wafts of smoke became visible. The third-floor windows of the long building that bordered the southwest of the area were protected by ornamental shutters, but thin gray vapors drifted out of several of them, including those over Emalia’s shop.
Cali landed a dozen feet away from her great aunt’s doorway and paused long enough to fling a double blast of force magic into the shutters that covered the second-floor windows. As they splintered and the glass behind them shattered inward, she hoped the woman wasn’t hurt by the shards.
Cuts are better than dying. She sent Fyre a telepathic message to tell him to ice the flames inside while she aimed another burst of power at the front door of the fortune teller shop.
She barreled through the opening at a run and yelled for the most important woman in her life. A crash sounded from the back and she slid to a stop as a Draksa slithered into the room from that direction. She thought it was Fyre for an instant—long enough for the creature to belch a wave of fire at her. With a muttered curse, she dove to the left and rolled, and while she impacted with the wall, she at least avoided being cooked.
She darted to her feet and created a force shield that protected her from feet to head and wrapped halfway on either side. It intercepted the next blast, and she stalked forward against the physical pressure of the flames. The walls and ceiling were burning, and the creaking from above was alarming. She ordered Fyre to abandon the attempt to put the fire out and try to reach the stairs to the room in the rear.
