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

by TR Cameron

  She kept the sigh from reaching her lips. “Yes, Mrs. J?”

  The boarding house’s owner was a woman from another era. She had never seen her in anything but a dress, usually with far too many fasteners up the front to be practical. Today, it was a black one with white buttons and a small hat covered her grey hair. That’s right, it’s Sunday. She wasn’t sure what church her landlady belonged to, but the woman never missed a week. The old lady folded her arms. “You were out awfully late. I heard you come in.”

  Since I portaled in, there’s no damn way you heard me. Isn’t lying a sin? She plastered a regretful smile on her face. “I had to work until closing at the restaurant.” Mrs J disapproved of the word “tavern” and all its assorted connotations. It was easier to simply not bring it up.

  She felt cold against her leg as Fyre snorted almost silently behind her. The older woman suggested, “Maybe you should find a less…late-night kind of job.” It was as close as she came to outright accusing her of being a person of loose morals, but the subtext was there and not buried particularly deep.

  “You know that the owner’s a friend of my family.” Mentioning her loss never failed to put her landlady off track.

  “Oh, yes, your poor parents. I can’t imagine what they’d make of you now.” There was a pause and like she had many times before, Cali considered letting it stretch to see how long it could last. The impatient Draksa at her heels made that a bad idea on this occasion, at least, so she simply walked forward with a wave. Mrs Jackson called after her, “Don’t forget to lock up behind you. I keep hearing strange things in the house and it makes me nervous.”

  “Yes, Mrs J,” she yelled in reply and after she’d closed the door behind her, she whispered, “I think she’s talking about you.”

  Fyre’s voice didn’t contain the mischievousness she’d expected. “I am not strange.”

  She chuckled. “Only a little, maybe.” He failed to rise to the bait, and she shrugged and broke into a jog. He trotted beside her as she warmed up, then pushed her to go faster by racing ahead. They remained in the neighborhood and zig-zagged along each street, then turned in the opposite direction to return. In fifteen minutes, her legs hurt and after thirty, her muscles burned. She found a grassy island on one of the nicer streets and sank into the wet grass, willing to endure a little damp in return for a chance to rest her muscles.

  Fyre sat primly and seemed to stare at her. She tilted her head to one side. “What’s up with you?”

  She’d never seen confusion on his face before, and it was momentarily shocking. His voice was pensive. “Have you ever felt like there was something you needed to remember—something fundamental—that simply wouldn’t come?”

  It was easy to forget he wasn’t an ordinary animal companion from time to time. He liked to act the pet and hung out behind the bar, napped curled up near her when she was at home, and even played when the mood struck him. But there was no question that the Draksa was far more than that.

  Cali nodded. “Yeah, I have. After my parents were killed, I woke up every night for half a year thinking that if I could remember some key thing, I could undo it. Like it was all a dream simply awaiting my revelation to avoid it becoming a part of the real world. Of course, it wasn’t true, but it felt like it was. It still does, sometimes.”

  He nodded. His scales were even more metallic and reflective than they had been when she’d met him, which indicated that he had moved closer to the male end of the Draksa gender spectrum. At least she thought that was what it meant. The dragon was a mystery to her, most days. And maybe that’s part of the problem. He spoke with a continued lack of confidence that sounded wrong coming from him. “I don’t really remember anything before the graveyard. Do you think that’s weird?”

  She frowned. “I guess I’m not sure. Emalia said Draksa hatch from eggs, so it’s certainly possible that someone put your egg in the graveyard. It doesn’t seem likely, though. She gave me the impression that your species was rare and special, and simply leaving an egg in a random place wouldn’t make much sense. You are, of course, the proof of the rare specialness of the Draksa.”

  His tongue hung out momentarily in what she’d come to understand as a sarcastic grin, but he soon resumed his troubled look. “I doubt we emerge from the egg at this size. So, what happened between the one and the other? Why can’t I remember?”

  In a gesture of companionship, she ran her hand down his flank and marveled at the feel of his scales beneath her fingertips. The ones that looked metallic felt like it, too, and the others were similar to a lizard’s skin, soft and mostly smooth. Fyre pressed into her palm like a cat, and she was silent while she considered what to say. He seemed comfortable with the delay or at least soothed by the attention. Finally, her thoughts coalesced into something useful. “Zeb told me, after my parents were gone, that I couldn’t live my life worrying about what had happened, or what might have been, or what could occur in the future. The past no longer matters, he said, except as the path we took to the present. Its echoes linger but shouldn’t be allowed to change the now. Today is all we can really be sure we have.”

  Fyre snorted. “That sounds like something he’d say.”

  She laughed. “I think he gets most of his wisdom from watching the kung fu channel, but every now and again, he makes sense.” With a groan, she stretched, grabbed her feet, and pulled her head down to her knees. Without looking at him, she added quietly, “If hanging out with me doesn’t make you happy, you should find something that does.”

  “It’s definitely not that. If anything is lacking, it can’t be filled from outside. I only wish I could remember. At least then I’d know if it was really something or if I’m worrying about nothing.”

  She shook her head in sympathy. “I’ve been there, my friend. You simply need to keep moving forward. Everything will turn out as it should.”

  “Zeb?”

  “No. Caliste.” She groaned again as she pushed herself to her feet. “While we’re talking about important things, it’s time we started putting all that talking about training together into action. I discussed it with Emalia, and a couple of days a week, she’ll shorten the magic lessons so you and I can put some practice in. You need to teach me how to fight properly beside a Draksa.”

  “I can share what I remember.”

  “How much is that? What do you think is missing?”

  He paused to scratch his pointed ears with a back paw before he replied. “I remember the big things. Fighting. Hunting. Mating.”

  She raised a hand, palm out. “Too much information. Stick to the first two.”

  His laugh emerged as something between a sibilant human laugh and a bark in his native form. “But I recall so much about the third.” His snout wrinkled as he shook his head. “We will definitely need to fight side by side, rather than front and back. Your instincts appear to drive you directly into the teeth of the enemy.”

  Cali nodded. “Yeah. There’s some truth to that. So at least we have a rough plan.” Something he’d said triggered a thought. “How old are you, anyway?”

  A frown replaced his neutral expression. “I don’t know. I’m not a youngling but not an elder. Somewhere in between.”

  She started to jog again, and he loped into position beside her. She kept the pace slow enough that she could still talk. “It does seem like you’re missing some important memories. We could ask Emalia what she knows about Draksa.”

  “Or Zeb.”

  “Hey, now there’s an idea. Let’s ask Zeb.”

  After a rare afternoon spent indoors doing homework for her Criminal Behavior Theory class, Cali and Fyre reported for work early via portal. Well, I’m reporting for work. He’s reporting for sleeping behind the bar and being spoiled. They climbed the stairs from the basement to discover Zeb cleaning and prepping for the evening crowd. His movements were quick and sure as he polished furniture and arranged items on the tables according to his standards of perfection. The scent of the night’s s
tew wafted up from the cook pot, and the heavy peppery smell made her eyes water. Fyre sneezed and announced their presence.

  Zeb smiled at them from the middle of the tavern. “Feel free to grab a rag and work on those muscles. The bar could use a polish.”

  She shook her head. “No thanks. I have to save my energy for my actual job.” She hopped up on one of the high seats along the already gleaming bar. “What do you know about Draksa?”

  He paused and looked from her to Fyre. “Am I really the right person to ask?”

  “Humor me.”

  “They are Atlantean,” he said with a shrug. “Part dragon, part lizard. The females lay eggs, which lie dormant for a long time. If you’re dumb enough to get in a fight with one and you’re super lucky, it might bond with you rather than killing you.”

  Cali rolled her eyes. “You’re truly a wealth of knowledge. Do you have anything else?”

  The dwarf adjusted a final item and strode toward the bar. She often wondered how he managed his effortless speed with such short legs but had long since decided that asking would either get her made fun of or ignored. So, naturally, she merely waited for the right moment to ask, the one that would cause him the most irritation—probably when the place was filled with customers. “Okay, let’s see. They have the ability to change genders during their lives, but not all do. And they’re accomplished hunters. They have different magics—some use frost, some fire, and there’s even been a rumor or two of shadow Draksa out there somewhere. Their personality runs along the same continuum as yours or mine, as do ethical stances. Some are good and some less good.”

  He scratched his beard once he’d stepped beyond the pass-through and behind the bar, then started to arrange glasses. “Some people say that the bonding changes each member and adds the other’s positive qualities.” He looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. “For instance, you’ve seemed smarter after meeting Fyre. Perhaps he’s rubbing off on you.”

  She made a stupid face and stuck her tongue out to the side. “Ha, ha, ha.” She shook her head. “So you know nothing about how they grow or anything?”

  He shrugged. “I assume it’s the same as all of us. They start smaller and get bigger.”

  “But they live a long time, right?”

  “Longer than some but shorter than others. About the same as a human is what I’ve read.”

  “There are books?”

  The dwarf laughed. “Of course there are books.” He shook his head. “It took you long enough to ask. I’ve waited…what is it, eight months now? I assumed Emalia would have sent you to the library long ago.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been to the library. My school has one too, you know.”

  Zeb sighed. “The magical library, doofus.” He looked at his ornate watch—which reminded her of a steampunk Halloween costume accessory she’d seen in the Quarter—and changed the subject. “Right. You’re on the clock, girl. Get to work.”

  Cali groaned and crossed to the front door, threw the locks, and opened it to reveal a gaggle of wizards, each of whom carried a small bag. With another groan, she realized that tonight must be the monthly game night, which always resulted in nothing but chaos. She pointed at her boss as she headed to the stew pot. “Magic toys and alcohol don’t mix. Why do you keep doing this to us?”

  “Because it’s fun.” He grinned. “Embrace the moment, Caliste.” He retrieved his own bag from under the bar and went to join his early arrivals for a game.

  Chapter Five

  Usha Serris lay back on the new couch in her redecorated office and closed her eyes. She was in a decidedly good mood. Despite the setbacks of a week before, everything was once again in its proper place. The broken piece of the legendary artifact sword was in a better hiding place, the demand for their newest product was high, and her people were working on a version that would appeal to—and quickly addict—humans as well. All in all, the Atlanteans in New Orleans were moving in the right direction.

  Except for a few and most notably, Tanyith and his young partner, Cali. Their use of magic to infiltrate the club had invalidated their human gang disguises and left little doubt that they were the ones responsible. The sometimes-invisible dog at their side had been a different breed than the one the girl had been seen with before, but that could easily have been an illusion too. She chuckled quietly. A stupid one. It would have been better not to bring the animal at all. But they must have known we’d see through the disguise.

  She gave them credit, though, for such a bold move. It was surely only dumb luck that had revealed the shard to them, but it had provided enough leverage to protect several businesses in addition to the dwarf’s tavern. For now. She wouldn’t go back on her word until the human leader of the Zatoras broke the truce since it would be unproductive to have the city’s other magicals ranged in opposition to her. But she certainly wasn’t above pushing to make him crack first.

  That was the big picture, and it was all rosy. The small picture was the duo of meddlers, and that needed to be addressed. Ambushing the girl hadn’t been well planned, and the underlings who had decided not to seek permission before they acted were now in the human penal system, arrested by the detective who’d been seen frequenting the tavern. Nothing happened around that building anymore without her knowledge, thanks to a rotating set of watchers. They also disabled the surveillance cameras that constantly appeared nearby, presumably placed by the Zatora syndicate.

  A small chime sounded over the speakers hidden in the walls, and she opened her eyes and rose to her feet in a smooth motion. The room had been repainted in blues and greens and the shading suggested waves and light filtering through water. The couches were new leather and still smelled wonderful. New paintings, new statues, and new pedestals were arranged at pleasing intervals. She circled her new desk, half again the size of the previous one. It was old wood polished to a high sheen, the lighter accents in the natural grain again reminiscent of waves. She had barely settled in the expensive chair behind it—ergonomically perfect and made of a bulletproof weave—when her subordinate opened the door.

  Danna Cudon had been with her since her first days in the gang. Usha had seen something in her at their initial meeting, a blend of determination and intensity that called to her. When the other woman had killed the leader of the Atlantean gang at her order without so much as flinching, she’d known they would be a team forever. The two killings that followed had cemented their bond. They were twin souls, one dark and the other darker, taking what they wanted from life. The woman seemed content to let her lead and never did a single thing to suggest she wanted the chair behind the desk.

  Today, she was dressed in a charcoal pinstripe suit and shiny leather boots with laces peeking out from under her cuffs. Her tie was emerald over a black shirt. A splash of color. She’s happy today. I wonder what I missed. A small smile spread over her lips. Happy is good. The men who entered behind her second did not look happy, however. The enforcers had arrived a few days before, and she had taken to using one of them as a bodyguard at all times. Their skills were far superior to standard muscle, however. They were a step down from New Atlantis’ fighting elite, who were all directly in service to the Empress. The two would be motivated to serve, as a positive recommendation could earn them a place in the next contest for advancement to that select group.

  They were negative twins with similar physiques and identical faces, one seemingly carved from dark stone and the other from light. Each sported a beard and mustache in Atlantean style, a mix of shaggy free portions and narrow braids, different enough from their skin tone to be noticeable. Tight black t-shirts, jeans, and boots were their standard uniform to allow freedom of movement and hide blood loss easily. It was impossible not to recognize them as members of the warrior culture that had bred them.

  Danna spoke in a casual tone. “We are reporting as ordered, Ms Serris.” That was for the benefit of the newcomers. They were never that formal one-on-one.

  S
he nodded. “Thank you for coming. How are things?”

  Her subordinate grinned. “Very good. All signs point in the right direction.” There were no chairs except her own, so the other woman stopped across the desk to her right and the new additions stood side by side to her left.

  Usha turned to regard them. “You have both done well so far.”

  They nodded in unison, and the dark one answered, “It is our honor to serve.”

  She leaned back and grinned. “But doubtless, you feel your talents are wasted watching over Ms Cudon and I. Speak freely.”

  The light man shrugged. “We are capable of much more, of course, but our purpose is to meet your needs. The nature of them doesn’t matter.”

  “You see?” She turned her head to face Danna. “That’s exactly how it should be. Ready, willing, and oh, so able.” The flirty tone was intended only to tease her second. Easily caught prey lacked spice, and the obedient warriors would refuse her nothing, which made them uninteresting for anything other than work. But for that, they’ll be quite useful.

  She shifted to seriousness. “So. Report.” Usha saw herself as an ideas person and as the force that was applied at pivotal moments to transform a situation. The day-to-day was handled by others under Danna’s watchful eye.

  Her second clasped her hands behind her back. Her pale skin was offset by the lush dark hair that fell straight to the middle of her back, and her cheekbones were sharp enough to cut. “We are expanding our presence in all the nightspots at the expected rate. The upper echelon has been difficult to penetrate, as you know, and many of those have required my personal attention.”

  A nod indicated her approval. “I will continue to assist you where needed. You have only to ask.” She couldn’t resist another tweak of her second, who disliked asking for help as much as she herself did.