Mystical Alley Groove: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Scions of Magic Book 2)

by TR Cameron

  The other two both looked like men, although the cowls hiding most of their faces made it impossible to be sure. One of them held a baseball bat in a confident grasp and the other, dual long knives formed of shadow power. So, they want it to be personal to send a message or some garbage. I’m down. She lurched into motion, hurled her sticks forward at the woman to distract her, and summoned a force shield as she pounded down the hallway toward her foes.

  Damn it. I really need magic that will make me faster. She was more a marathoner than a sprinter when it came down to it. The memory of Zeb telling her she had to pursue people who tried to dine and ditch at the tavern because dwarves were short-distance runners brought a grin that doubtless confused her opponents. Her force shield—a curved barrier that covered her from head to toe and wrapped around both sides—absorbed the woman’s successive attacks. A subtle shift in positioning redirected them without fully absorbing their power, which allowed Cali to maintain her momentum and resulted in the destruction of several pieces of drywall from the deflected bursts.

  She discarded potential attack possibilities one after the other during her charge and kept her options open until the last minute. When the other woman stepped back into a weak defensive stance, the choice was clear. Cali summoned a final burst of speed and drove the shield into her to thrust her foe toward the man with the knives. She shrank the magical defense to normal shield size and envisioned it attaching itself to her left forearm. Her right stick returned to her hand as she slid low toward the one holding the bat.

  He grinned as he swung his arm back and adjusted his aim. The weapon descended in a powerful arc. Her trained eyes noted the balanced stance and how he pivoted from his hips and channeled the momentum into his swing. It was essentially an optimal strike with the club, and when her force shield met it, the energy of the blow traveled up her arm and made her shoulder ache. The problem with committing to the attack the way he had, though, was that it allowed no opportunity for defense. Her slide brought her heels in contact with his feet, compromised his balance, and forced him to lock his knees. She struck the outside of his left knee with her right-hand Escrima stick backed by enough force to dislocate it. He fell with a shriek as she rolled away.

  As she stood, she darted a hasty glance down the stairs and saw four attackers charging upward. She growled in annoyance. “Sorry about this, buddy,” she muttered and used her force magic to hurl her latest casualty toward them at chest height. He barreled into the oncoming enemies and they all tumbled back to the landing. Another force blast from the woman caught Cali in the left shoulder and thrust her to the side as the man with the daggers attacked. She swung her shield in front of the first blow but felt a line of fire across her stomach as the other blade sliced through her t-shirt and into the flesh beneath.

  “Ow—bastard,” she shouted and released the force shield as her second stick returned to her grasp. Her practice sessions with Ikehara had increased her speed dramatically, and she numbed his left wrist with a carefully aimed blow to the bone. The blade vanished, his concentration compromised. He brought the other one back in a reverse strike at her stomach, but she stepped away long enough to let it pass and drilled a sidekick into his ribs. She heard a crack, and he stumbled away with a gasp. Cali grinned at the woman, who had been reduced to a spectator during the close-quarters exchange, unable to attack without risking her own ally. “Bring it, witch.” It works on two levels, see, because you’re a total jerk and also a female who can cast magic. I’m hilarious.

  Her opponent apparently didn’t understand or appreciate the joke. When she attacked, it was with an enormous ball of fire that Cali barely managed to raise her sticks in time to intercept. The flames were momentarily sucked toward the weapons but immediately blew out in a wide arc. Heat washed over her bare legs but missed the rest of her. The pain didn’t register immediately, but she knew it was only a matter of time. She’d been burned at work too many times to count—stupid stew pot—and knew that even a simple burn produced an agony far out of proportion to the damage. Grimly, she realized she was on the clock, as the potential for the impending pain to overwhelm her when it arrived was all too real.

  The woman had followed the blast with a cone of fire that the sticks absorbed, and Cali walked forward against its pressure to narrow the distance between them. The throbbing in her legs grew more intense and drew a small whine from deep in her lungs. Shut up. There’s no time. Later. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to ignore the sensation. Her foe trembled visibly as she poured her power into the attack, but it wasn’t sufficient to stop her advance. The woman seemed shocked when the distance was finally short enough to allow a front kick to the groin to shatter her focus followed by a blow to the temple from one of her sticks that rendered her unconscious.

  She realized belatedly that the sprinkler system had activated and she was drenched. Irritated, she pushed wet hair out of her eyes and looked for more opponents, but none were visible. She willed her sticks to return to their bracelet form, extended her hands, and ejected a cone of frost that reached toward the flames on the far wall to smother them. Her ears rang from the violence and the rushing water, but she could still make out the sound of oncoming sirens. She considered heading down the stairs but thought better of it when one of her legs buckled and she staggered.

  Okay, then, if I can’t go down, I guess it’s up. It occurred to her that she was out of time to find the thief, so she took the money from the wallet of the woman in front of her. At least I can give them something. She limped toward the nearest door and blasted it apart with a ball of force. Her movements stiff and pained, she climbed through the hole she’d made and headed to the window opposite, down a hallway, and through the living room. She stuck her head out to discover that it wasn’t the one she’d hoped for but saw the fire escape one room over. Well, I got the correct side of the building. She hurried into the bedroom and out through the window, taking the metal stairs slowly to the roof.

  Fyre met her at the top with a smug expression. Two unconscious enemies near him revealed that they’d been prepared for her to go up and he’d dealt with them, presumably without betraying his true nature since they weren’t covered in ice.

  She asked, “Any problems?” He laughed and swayed his head from left to right.

  The Draksa led her to the corner of the building. His always deeper than expected voice was concerned. “Can you make the jump?”

  Cali peered over the edge to see the roof of the next structure a story below. The lateral distance wasn’t an issue, but the drop might hurt. Of course, the alternative was to wait where she was and hope to not be discovered, which was totally unlikely. Her legs shook beneath her and she sighed. “No chance. We’ll have to risk a portal.”

  He nodded and his snout lowered once. A rift appeared in the air beside her as she sagged from the strain of her burns, and she crawled through to safety in the tavern basement.

  The stone floor beneath her cheek was comforting after the blazing heat of the apartment building, and the pain in her legs was powerful enough that she couldn’t even think of moving. Fyre wasted no time and raced up the stairs. Moments later, her boss grumbled loudly, “What’s she gone and done to herself now?”

  The Draksa didn’t answer, having decided for whatever reason his lizard brain thought important that he’d only speak to her and Tanyith. A rustling followed as if Zeb was rooting through one of the crates that were stacked all over the space before he eased her into a seated position. She groaned at the flood of pain, but when he tilted the healing potion to her lips, she drank greedily. In moments, the agony had abated, and she watched the scarlet skin and giant blisters fade from her legs. A strange tingle lingered as the slash on her stomach sealed itself and left her trembling again, this time with relief.

  She sagged back against the dwarf. “Oh, that’s so much better. Thank you.”

  His head shake was felt rather than seen. “You have to be more careful, girl. What happened?”r />
  “Ambush. Atlanteans. I think I’ll take a nap now.” The effects of the healing potion came at a price, and exhaustion washed over her.

  He chuckled, guided her to the floor, and shoved a folded cloth of some kind under her head. “You have four hours until your shift starts. Enjoy your rest.”

  Cali managed to mumble “Brutal…taskmaster…jerk…” before her consciousness slipped away.

  Chapter Three

  Tanyith chuckled quietly. “I spend way too much time on this roof.” He looked around at the barren surface and leaned back in the folding canvas chair he’d brought with him. A paper cup of cold coffee was half-full in its holder, and he grimaced at the thought of drinking any more. Across the street and several stories below, the Saturday night crowd flowed into the Shark Nightclub. There had been no sign of important members of the Atlantean gang so far, but he doubted they’d let the evening pass without someone making the rounds. He’d spent a large part of the previous week surveilling them, and patterns had emerged.

  He sighed. “And now, I’m talking to myself. Great.” The sight and sound shield around his perch would ensure that no one heard him, but it still wasn’t a particularly good sign that his internal monologue had become external. Further consideration of the topic was forestalled by the opening of the garage door a block away. The fact that he and Cali had invaded the club by that route hadn’t stopped them from employing the space. The dark sedan pulled out and he cursed as he ran to the back of the building.

  Without hesitation, he jumped and used force magic to control his speed and land lightly beside the motorcycle parked there. This one wasn’t “borrowed” as his previous ride had been but rather purchased secondhand. Even though he’d stashed money and supplies away before his involuntary trip to Trevilsom prison, he hadn’t been willing to pay for a new one. The Yamaha SR was adequate and didn’t stand out in the streets of New Orleans. He yanked on the black helmet and gunned the engine. Casually, he paralleled the car for a while and assumed it was on its way to the Quarter. When they neared that destination, he swung over and moved into position behind it, close enough to detect any turns or stops but sufficiently far back to avoid revealing himself.

  It took twenty minutes of winding through pedestrians and traffic before the other vehicle stopped outside one of the other nightclubs in town that catered primarily to the magical crowd. The Witch’s Cauldron looked like a tourist trap with its costumed servers and year-round Halloween decorations. But there were always people with real power scattered among them, and he’d heard tell of a VIP room somewhere inside. Of course, if it held a portal, the actual space for the elite could be an entire planet away.

  He steered the bike to the side and as the rear doors of the car opened, he whispered a spell that would allow him to see the scene as if from only a few feet away. He nodded in a mixture of surprise and confirmation as the leader of the Atlantean gang, Usha, emerged from the back passenger seat. She wore a bright red dress that shimmered in the neon lights from the surrounding bars. It reached to her calves and obscured the tops of the black boots she wore. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a narrow braid that hung in a queue down her spine. She stopped to await the two other figures who climbed out of the opposite side of the vehicle.

  The first was someone he hadn’t seen before. He was stocky and a short beard darkened his tanned skin. His tight black t-shirt and matching jeans put his impressive muscles on display, and his gaze cast about warily. I guess he’s a bodyguard of some kind. He looks too tough to be local. So, he’s imported from somewhere. The woman who followed was instantly recognizable.

  Danna Cudon was the second in command to the Atlantean leader. She was a formidable presence despite the distance between them. Her eyes were protected by stylish sunglasses, and her dark suit, shirt, and tie were perfect, as they always were. Even during battle, the woman’s wardrobe had remained almost entirely unruffled. He shook his head at the memory of the wicked spear she’d created out of nothing and almost gutted him with. If she’s the backup, the leader must be something much more dangerous than she appears, he thought, not for the first time.

  It was a pleasure to watch her move as she strode after the bodyguard, who had reached his ward. They walked in a line into the club and vanished from view. Tanyith climbed off the bike and straightened his outfit. While a suit wasn’t his primary choice for either surveillance or riding, the need to look the part of an appropriately formal carouser was something he’d anticipated after trailing people from the Shark on previous outings.

  The bouncer stopped him at the door, but a smoothly transferred twenty-dollar bill got him through without any further restriction. Inside, loud music thumped at twice the rate of his heart, and flashing lights in every color of the rainbow whirled their beams through the fog of dry ice that floated around. The bar was to the left, a shining piece of metal that stretched from front to rear and reflected light in all directions. To the right was a doorway that presumably led to restrooms and back of house, and the rest of that wall was taken up by semicircular booths facing the interior. The remainder of the space, which seemed to be about four storefronts wide and at least half a block deep, was filled with a throng of dancers in varying states of visible drunkenness.

  He caught sight of his prey in the distance, already most of the way through the crowd. With muttered apologies, he pushed through the people separating him from the Atlanteans. He lost ground with each passing moment as the bodyguard appeared to use his bulk to create space for the women. When he was almost sure they were headed to a VIP door he didn’t know about, they made an unexpected turn to the right and stopped in front of one of the booths.

  Tanyith stopped too, barely in time to avoid detection by the big man as he swept his gaze across the crowd. He chose a nearby woman at random and danced toward her. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, but it made him look identical to all the other men striking out on the dance floor. He kept the disguise up through the end of one song and into the next and moved casually but consistently closer to the group. When he was about ten feet away, he saw the strange positioning of the people involved. The boss was talking to a man in the center of the curved booth, who was surrounded on both sides by women in sparkling cocktail dresses. The arrangement screamed “important person,” but he didn’t recognize anyone.

  Of course, I’ve been out of commission for a while. There’s no way to know who might have risen or fallen during my enforced absence. While the boss talked and the bodyguard scanned the crowd, motion from Danna Cudon caught his eye. The woman flicked her wrist strangely, and he was virtually positive he saw a flash of white in her fingers before she grasped the extended hand of the woman closest to her. She maintained the grip for longer than necessary, and first interest and then trepidation flashed across the sparkling woman’s face. He noted in passing the pointed ears that betrayed her Oriceran ancestry. Then, her hand was free and the Atlantean second repeated the process with each of the women at the table.

  Her last shake was with the man, and it finished with a dip of her hand into her inside jacket pocket, which sealed the deal for Tanyith. She’d provided something to the women, at least, and had received payment from the man. What could it be? Secrets? Stolen goods? Drugs? His mind latched onto the last as the most likely option. It was one of the things he’d argued against when he was part of the group. Two of the things, actually, as there had been a plan to deal drugs that only affected humans and another to provide ones to the magical community. If he was right, the latter was definitely in play. Time would tell regarding the former.

  The Atlanteans suddenly lurched into motion, turned, and plunged into the crowd. Tanyith danced toward the bar and did his best to look like a man seeking a drink, then followed at a discreet distance. When he saw the dark car pull away, he darted out of the entrance and ran to his bike. It was only dumb luck that let him catch up to them, thanks to a drunken reveler in the middle of the street who had slowed t
raffic to a crawl.

  He tracked them to several more bars, but only Danna got out so he didn’t risk following her inside. At the end of the night, the car returned to the Shark and Usha exited, followed immediately by her burly, bearded guardian. The sedan pulled away, and his expectations proved inaccurate as it continued past the garage. What are you up to now? He trailed it again, paranoid that the strange trip was a trap of some kind. His quarry took a direct route through the city that ending at a luxurious apartment building on the opposite side.

  A block away, he watched as she left the car and entered the structure. He made a note of the location on his phone while he tried and failed to suppress a yawn. Half his instincts told him to stay and watch and the other half replied that doing so would be stupid, as she was almost certainly in for the night. He finally settled on the side of the latter and turned his motorcycle toward the cheap by-the-week apartment he currently called home.

  Thoughts flitted across his mind as he rode—his worries about the gang, discovering what was going on in New Atlantis, and finding a job before his money ran out were sufficient to keep him awake during the long trip back to his bed.

  Chapter Four

  Sunday morning dawned cloudy and rainy, a rare occurrence in the Crescent City. Fyre made the area around the bed increasingly cold until Cali climbed grumblingly out of the sheets and agreed to go for a run with him. She changed and opened the door to confirm that her path down the stairs was clear.

  Her relief lasted only until the moment when Mrs Jackson stepped out of nowhere to appear at the bottom. “Caliste.” Her voice was filled with disapproval.