by TR Cameron
Danna’s small smile acknowledged the dig. “Our researchers have almost finalized the formula to use on the humans. It will be far more effective and addictive than any non-magical drug.” The original plan had been also to make it fatal over time but first, Danna and then the Empress had counseled her against going so far, so fast. Her second had been concerned about putting the human gang in a corner prematurely while they were still strong enough to strike back. Her ruler had simply suggested that having a steady supply of workers would always be useful, all the more so when you were the sole source of what they desired.
“Excellent. That will provide us the funds we need while weakening our enemies. What of the nuisances who broke in?”
“Almost certainly they are the two you believe them to be. Our watchers have seen them both at the tavern, together and separately. Of course, we cannot find out what’s happening inside.” Even though the rules would permit either group to spend time within the walls, there was an unspoken agreement to treat the establishment as sanctified ground for official meetings. The dwarf had been correct on that matter, at least. It was useful to know that if talking was required, there was an easy way to accomplish it. Not that there’ll ever be a need.
“And the ill-advised attack on the girl?”
A barely perceptible wince flickered across Danna’s face. Her second was the only person other than the Empress who Usha felt was as offended by unprofessional behavior as she was. “Those who were involved but not arrested have had their errors explained to them. Forcefully. What do you wish to do with those in jail?”
She shrugged. “Let them stay there for a while. This is a good time to build a channel into the prison system and find out who we can turn to our purposes. Threats, money, drugs, whatever.” Danna was well-versed in all the possibilities. “If they try to relocate our people out of the area, though, we’ll need to move.”
The suited woman replied with a single nod. “Consider it done.”
“So, what do you think we should do about Tanyith and the girl?” Asking questions for which she already had her own answers was a technique she had learned from the Empress.
“We should kill them, of course. Their transgression can only be answered by blood.”
Usha nodded. “How?”
“I would be more than happy to do it myself.”
“You are too valuable to risk on such menial tasks.” Usha shook her head firmly. “Fortunately, the Empress has seen fit to grant us some assistance.” She turned to face the men. “Which of you is the better fighter?”
Each replied simultaneously, “I am.” It was what she’d expected.
“Which of you has more wins in the arena?”
The dark man smiled and revealed a mouth full of perfectly white pointed teeth. “I have one more.”
His pale twin raised his chin. “Because we were dispatched on the day of my matching bout, which I doubtless would have won. But my brother is correct.”
Usha nodded. “Then he shall have the honor of going first. Find the girl and kill her within the week. You will do this outside the hours when I require you as a bodyguard.”
He inclined his head in acceptance. She waved the men to the door and beckoned for her second in command to join her on the couches. When they were gone, she asked, “So, do you think he’ll succeed?”
Danna shrugged. “She has proven formidable so far, but I can only believe it’s luck. There’s no way she has the skills or experience to withstand an enforcer.”
Usha shook her head. “It will be interesting to see. Her lineage requires us to tread more carefully than I’d prefer. If the Empress were to discover her before we have eliminated her like we did her parents, it would be a problem. Her guardians did a fine job hiding her from us. However, now that she’s resurfaced, we must follow the rules appropriate to her station but move quickly enough to avoid notice from above.”
Her second nodded. “Battles of increasing difficulty until she proves her worth or dies. Although you’re starting her with a fairly hefty challenge.”
“It is our way.”
The other woman rose, sensing the dismissal in her tone. “Hers as well.”
“Indeed. I wonder, do you think there’s a chance we could turn her?”
Danna chuckled and shook her head. “Not a single one.”
She sighed. “She might have been a useful puppet but you’re right. She needs to die.” She stood and returned to her desk as the other woman made her way out of the room. Now to consider how best to remove the Tanyith-sized thorn in my side.
Chapter Six
Rion Grisham sat alone in his office and reflected upon the fact that he was not a happy man. His tenure as head of the Zatora Crime Syndicate was fresh enough that success was far from guaranteed, and each effort he made to lock down new territories or businesses seemed to be mired in tar. Between the Atlantean gang and the suddenly vocal minority magical communities in the Crescent City, every two steps forward were accompanied by at least one in the wrong direction.
At the same time, however, there was light at the end of this particular tunnel. By declaring themselves, his hidden enemies had become visible. The meeting at the tavern had trebled his suspicion that not all had been as it seemed with the break-in at the Zatora mansion. It was inconceivable that the culprits would try to fence the items so quickly. From there, it was a short jump to assume that someone else had been responsible, someone playing against both sides. Like the duo he’d met prior to the evening in question. It’s unfortunate Ozahl wasn’t here on the night of the theft. He probably would have seen through their magic and we could have caught them in the act.
The mage was paid enough that he didn’t doubt his loyalty, especially since he’d pledged to outbid any other offer the man received. He was the leader’s secret ace in the hole, as the organization’s public image made the idea of hiring magicals or accepting them into the group inconceivable. Occasionally, he worried that word might get out, but there were plans in place for that eventuality. Other plans were ready should the wizard try to betray him. Overall, it was an arrangement that, so far, had worked well and promised to do so into the future.
He rose from the couch and turned toward the door at a vibration on his wrist. His people had been ordered not to bother him until the wizard returned, so he didn’t have to look to know that the event had occurred. He rolled the sleeves of his button-down shirt to his elbows as he walked toward the hidden room in the basement which the intruders had missed during their theft. A guard stood outside the door, and he gave him a nod as he brushed past. Inside, a man thrashed in a reclining metal chair that would have seemed more appropriate in a dentist’s office, his wrists and ankles shackled to the furniture. A cloth gag prevented speech, but there were shouts behind it.
The wizard stood nearby and gazed silently at the prisoner. He looked different again today—thinner and with a beard and short hair. Rion had demanded a way to always know it was him, so he had presented him with a ring that cooled whenever he was nearby. “Evening, my friend. What have you brought me?” He’d asked for several things—four, to be exact. The intruders and his own freelancing gang members.
“This is one of the men who broke in according to the camera footage from the hallway and upstairs.” There were no recording devices in his office, of course. “An acquaintance of mine saw him in a bar in Dallas, of all places, and was kind enough to give him up. For a fee, naturally.”
Rion nodded. “We’ll make it good. Has he said anything?”
“Nothing useful. Some protests and some screams, that’s all. He didn’t come quietly, even though I asked him to politely.”
“Imagine that.” He approached the bound man. “So you thought you’d steal from me, huh? Well, we’ll settle that score before the night is out. But first, how about you tell me everything you know about the Atlantean gang, working backward from why you broke in here.”
He nodded and the mage gestured. The knot in the g
ag untied itself and it levitated away. The prisoner coughed and took a few moments to simply breathe. He had long braids and dark eyes and was dressed in ratty jeans and a rattier t-shirt. Finally, he collected himself enough to look up. “I didn’t do it.”
He sighed. “You showed him the video, right?”
“Of course,” Ozhal’s said beside him.
“So, I’ll ask you again. Why?”
Their captive looked close to tears. “I’m telling you, it wasn’t me. I was already at the police station when it happened.”
Rion frowned. “It looks like you.” He turned to the mage. “It does, right? Look like him?”
“It does indeed.”
He turned back in feigned confusion. “See, it looks like you. How can it not be you? This is your last chance to say something useful before I break a bone or two.”
The prisoner’s words tumbled out in a panic. “It wasn’t me. The witch detective—Baron or whatever—picked me and my buddy up on the street. She showed us pictures of us doing things we didn’t do and told us to get out of town. It was a frame-up. I’m telling you it wasn’t me.” The last word changed into a shriek as the mage did something to him.
The gang leader turned to his employee. “Now, now, let the man speak. You can play later.” One more gesture drew another squeal before Ozhal nodded. Rion regarded the soon-to-be-broken man in the chair. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. What will you give me so I convince my friend here not to spend an entire day breaking pieces off you?”
“I don’t have much of anything.” The man gulped. “The policewoman wanted to hear all about the gang and what we’re doing. But I’m a street soldier, man, and only ran a little protection. I’ve heard rumors but I don’t know anything.” There was an unmistakable plea in his voice for acceptance or mercy or some other thing he wouldn’t receive.
“Tell me the rumors, then.”
“Drugs. Special merchandise for people from Oriceran and not for humans. Lining up businesses to pay tribute. Some folks coming off the boat owing the gang money. That kind of thing.”
Rion glanced at the wizard, who responded with a noncommittal shrug. Some help you are. I need a mind reader or a truth-teller or something. Heh. Someone who can see the future would be nice. But I suppose if the magic aliens had one of those, I’d already have lost. “Do you have anything else useful to share?”
“No, man, I’ve told you everything. The detective said to get out of town before my own side came after me, so I did. That’s all.”
He nodded and motioned for the mage to follow him into the hallway. The gag flew into place over the man’s mouth and drew renewed screams from him. Once outside, he asked, “So, my read is that the detective was working with the dwarf’s people on this if she knew to scoop him up ahead of time. It’s probably the same with my guys.”
“Illusions, almost certainly. It explains a lot.”
“Did they really think we’d be dumb enough to fall for it?”
The other man shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It could be that they didn’t believe it would hold but simply needed to throw us off the scent for a short time. They haven’t shown themselves to be stupid yet, so I assume they expected we’d see through it before too long.”
“That group is a problem.”
Ozahl nodded. “But your plan to bide your time is a good one. Eventually, we’ll find a way to separate some from the rest or to strike directly at the ones who dared to break in here.”
“It’s the two we picked up at the club.”
“Very likely. But that doesn’t change anything. If we have the chance, sure, we kill them. But there’s no point in facing all the magicals at once, which would probably be the result. No, we need to do it in a way that gives us deniability.”
Rion clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll think about that. Enjoy yourself, but how about some soundproofing, huh?” The mage grinned, nodded, and entered the room again. The prisoner’s shrieks quickly went silent. He wandered back to his office, thinking hard. There has to be a way to get at those two and blame it on the Atlanteans. I merely have to find it.
Chapter Seven
After he’d noticed Fyre lurking outside the week before, Sensei Ikehara had insisted that the Draksa—who he saw as a dark brown Rottweiler—join them in the dojo. He wasn’t allowed on the mat, naturally, but was permitted in the front of the studio before it opened. Cali hadn’t minded at first, but as her teacher threw her effortlessly to the canvas for the seventh or eighth time in a row, she was sure the little beast was laughing at her.
Of course, the assumption that Fyre found his amusement at her expense was usually fairly reliable. She scrambled to her feet, ignored the ache in her muscles, and regarded the man across from her. He was dressed in a white uniform top secured by a black belt over a hakama in the same shade. The dark scruff that always shadowed his face and upper lip was slightly thicker than usual, and his dark eyes watched her carefully. His voice was gruff and focused, as it often was during their one-on-one training sessions. “Again. This time, try to keep yourself upright.”
She groaned and moved in again, trying to anticipate his reaction so she could use it against him. When she shifted to her left and thrust her right hand out in a feint, he flowed smoothly out of the way. His palm grasped her wrist, but she twisted to avoid his lock and scuttled to the right. He pursued—another change from the group classes where a single escape was usually instructionally adequate—and attempted to put her in a chokehold. She met it with force, an inappropriate block in Aikido, but it opened him for a kick.
Cali snapped her leg forward and the idea that she would finally connect with one of her attacks brought a wide grin to her face. The realization that it was a setup struck her a moment before he slipped to the right and locked his arms on her shoulder, then used the leverage to push her to the mat over his extended leg. As her spine struck the canvas surface, she was sure she heard a snort from the front of the room.
With a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet once more. Ikehara grinned. “Again.”
Once the sparring had reached the point where her teacher apparently felt she’d suffered enough, they changed to weapons. He’d demanded that she use her magical sticks so she could continue to improve her feel for them, and she’d happily obliged. In previous sessions, he had attacked her with his own sticks, a wooden bokken, and both a bo and a jo staff. Today, he two-handed the sword. It sliced at her from above, and she raised her weapons in an X to catch it, then guided it to the side with a spin.
Her stick whistled toward his head, and he barely managed to get the block up in time. She doubled down and launched successive blows he struggled to intercept with the larger weapon. Her nimbleness gave her an advantage, and she pressed forward. Finally, he stumbled unexpectedly and provided an opening. She stabbed forward and tapped him lightly on the temple.
A surge of pleasure washed through her at her success, banished instantly by his belligerent response. “No. If you continue to behave this way, we will have to end your training.”
Her hands lowered in shock. “What?” The fact that she’d forgotten to use his title or show any other form of respect was a clear indication of her surprise.
He gestured with the sword. “You had me. Why did you stop?”
“What?” Her confusion was complete.
Ikehara signaled for her to kneel, lowered himself to his knees opposite her, and placed the bokken carefully beside him. “You have developed a fear and are afraid to hurt me. On the one hand, this is good because you acknowledge your own power and abilities.” He raised a palm. “On the other, it caused you to practice in an unrealistic fashion.”
“So, you’re saying I should have struck you with my full strength?”
He nodded. “If you do not trust me to take care of myself, how can we train together? If you fail to trust your partners, how can you fight together?”
Fyre snorted again from the front of the room, clearly in agreement with
her instructor. She shook her head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He shrugged. “That is a risk we must both accept for you to reach your highest potential. But it seems as if this may be a bigger question for you than our sparring would suggest.”
Cali looked at the mat and let her hair fall in front of her face. She disliked all the thoughts that ran through her head and the remembered snatches of dreams where she was forced to hurt her friends that surfaced in her mind. She didn’t want to answer but knew he wouldn’t let her off the hook. None of the people she cared for ever did. “I’m more powerful than I was. I’m dangerous.”
His voice was calm and inquisitive—the “teacher’s” tone he used in class with new students. “Every person who gets behind the wheel of a car is dangerous. What makes you different?”
She shrugged. “I’m training to hurt people. On purpose, not like a car accident.”
“So you’re dangerous and working to increase your abilities. That will give you more control as well as more ability to do damage. It seems as if those are in balance.”
“Who am I to decide?” she asked and sighed.
He chuckled. “You are you, Caliste. You are a born warrior. A crusader. A champion. This is clear to all who know you if it is not yet obvious to you.”
She blinked, unable to fathom his meaning. Me? Some kind of hero? I can barely get my homework done on time. Her body trembled and she fought to still it. Don’t freak out, Cali. Settle down. She pushed out the words stuck in her throat and they emerged in a whisper. “I make mistakes—so many mistakes. Now, they might hurt people and maybe even kill them.”
The tip of the bokken tapped her chin as Ikehara forced her to raise her head. She mustered her will and met his gaze. “So. To quote one of the most important texts of the last hundred years, ‘with great power comes great responsibility.’ You cannot give up the power so you must accept the responsibility.”
