Mage Hunters Box Set

by Andrew C Piazza

“She wrecked my car, Jolly!” Mickey said. “My new car!”

  “Newish,” Lysette said.

  “New,” Mickey insisted. “My new… oh hey, who are all these people, Jolly?”

  She craned her neck around, wriggling a bit in Lysette’s arms, and looked over Jolly’s neighbors covered in their armor of duct tape and magazines. Broomsticks tipped with taped-on butcher knives pointed out from the group, making them look a bit like a sparsely populated pin cushion.

  “Are you guys doing a role playing game or something?” she asked. “Can I play?”

  “Set her down in that chair over there,” Jolly said. “Let me fix her ribs and then I can detox her.”

  Lysette watched him work on Mickey for a few moments, then asked, “Aren’t you going to put your hands on her?”

  “What?”

  “Put your hands on her. To heal her.”

  “Oh,” Jolly said. “I don’t have to actually put my hands on someone to heal them.”

  “You always put your hands on me when you heal me.”

  “Do I?” Jolly said, swallowing hard. “I do? I, uh… I hadn’t noticed that.”

  “Oh, finally!” Mickey said, swaying in the chair. “I can breathe in my lungs again! This is great, Jolly, you’re the best! Breathing is the best! I’m sleepy.”

  “She’s still high?” Lysette said.

  “She’s still high,” Jolly said.

  “You’re still high!” Mickey said, poking Jolly weakly in the belly.

  “Hold still, Mickey,” Jolly said. “Let me neutralize those drugs you’ve got going in you.”

  “Noooooo…” Mickey said.

  Her face began to scowl and then twist, as if she were slowly being exposed to a foul smell that got worse and worse in its intensity. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and she started waving Jolly off.

  “That doesn’t… that doesn’t feel good. Stop.”

  “I can’t, Mickey,” Jolly said. “I have to get these drugs out of you.”

  “It feels awful.”

  “It will. Your body isn’t making the feel-good hormones it normally does, because the Oxy was doing all the work for it.”

  “Stop mansplaining stuff and quit it.”

  “That’s it,” Jolly said. “I’m done. You should be clean now.”

  “I feel like ass,” she said. “I think I hate you.”

  “Um, Agent Jolly?” Lydia asked. “Who are these people?”

  Lysette raised an eyebrow. “Agent Jolly?”

  “Just…” Jolly said, waving her off. “Everybody? This is Lysette and Mickey, they’re with the FBI too. Um, Lysette’s an Adept, so…”

  “Oh, I saw an Adept show with Cirque de Soliel once,” Lydia said. “They were amazing. Are you a dancer, Lysette?”

  Lysette’s face was blank. “Kind of.”

  “Lysette’s like a super ninja, okay?” Jolly said. “So, listen…”

  Lysette stepped away from him and over to Robert, saying, “Is that a sword?”

  Robert sighed. “I was at a Renaissance Faire, and I had some ale in the ale tent…”

  “I don’t care,” Lysette said. “Is it real?”

  “Real?”

  “Is it a shitty aluminum replica, or an actual sharp steel sword?”

  “No, it’s sharp. It’s sharp as hell. I cut myself on it twice while trying it out.”

  Lysette frowned. “Trying it out?”

  “Well, you know, I mean, I was trying out… okay, I was playing with it.”

  “Whatever. Give it to me.”

  “Uh, Lys?” Jolly said. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  He walked Lysette over to a corner where they could speak quietly together and said, “Listen, these people don’t know you. You can’t just barge in and demand stuff.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “No, I mean, you shouldn’t.”

  “Jolly, I’m stronger than he is, faster than he is, and I actually know how to use that weapon. He clearly does not.”

  “Yeah, but, he doesn’t know any of that. And besides, that’s not the point. It’s his sword. Maybe… maybe try asking, being nice, convincing him that it’s best for everyone if you’re the one who has the sword?”

  Lysette considered his words for a bit, nodding. Without a word, she walked over the fireplace, got the poker from the stand next to it, and bent it in half in front of Robert.

  Her expression never changed as she did it. She may as well have been folding a piece of paper, as little as the exertion showed on her face.

  Robert’s jaw dropped in several stages as he watched the slender Adept bend the steel poker effortlessly. She handed the bent poker to him, and he took it slowly, as if not believing what his hands were touching.

  “I once cut a man in half with a katana,” Lysette said. “May I have that sword?”

  Her cheeks pushed back in an awkward smile that didn’t extend to her eyes.

  “Is she serious?” Robert asked.

  Jolly scratched at his head. “Um, yeah, I’m pretty sure she is. Look, what she’s trying to say is, she’s super fast, and strong, and is an expert with all kinds of weapons, so we’re probably all better off if she’s got the sword, you know?”

  “All… right,” Robert said, handing Lysette the sword in its scabbard. After he gave it to her, he wandered off to join the others in the living room, looking like a kid who had just had his lunch taken away from him.

  “That was good advice, Jolly,” Lysette said, buckling the sword onto her waist. “Worked.”

  “Except, it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. Do you want me to duct tape some books onto you, you know, for some armor?”

  Lysette’s laugh was rare and took him by surprise. “Definitely not.”

  “All right, but… look. It’s our job to take care of these people, right? I mean, these are just regular folks, they have no idea what’s going on or how to deal with it.”

  “That’s my point. They should stay out of the way.”

  “No, that’s my point. They’re not ‘in the way’. They’re the entire reason why we’re here. There’s no point to what we do if we’re not helping people who can’t help themselves.”

  Lysette stared at him.

  “Try it out,” Jolly said. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

  Surprising him for the second time that day, Lysette put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re right, Jolly. Thank you.”

  “I am? I am. Right. Yes. Okay,” Jolly said, stammering a bit at her touch.

  Lysette left his side to check the large windows at the front of the apartment. Mickey walked slowly and gingerly over to him, looking like the ugly half of Death warmed over.

  “God,” she said, rolling her eyes at Jolly. “Please tell me you do not have a boner from her doing nothing but touching your arm.”

  “Shut up,” Jolly said. “I don’t have a boner, you have a boner.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know it doesn’t make any sense! Just shut up, I was having a moment there and you ruined it!”

  “Whatever, Loverboy,” Mickey said. “I still feel horrible. How long am I going to feel like this?”

  “Not much longer,” Jolly said. “Maybe an hour. The Detox Trick gets the drugs out of you, but you get a little mini withdrawal episode as a consequence.”

  “This is mini withdrawal? It feels like I have the worst flu ever. Everything aches.”

  “Imagine if you’d been taking that junk on the regular,” Jolly said. “Back in the joint… hang on.”

  He heard voices in the living room getting excited, and he and Mickey wandered out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. Everyone was gathered by the large front windows of the apartment that looked out onto the street, shining flashlights at the dark streets outside.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “There’s a bunch of people running around on the street,” Donald said. “I think they’re those ghoul thi
ngs.”

  “You can’t tell from here,” Lydia said.

  “Yes, you can,” Donald said. “They kind of… whoa! Did you see that?”

  “What?”

  “Something flew past the window!”

  “No, it didn’t,” Lydia said.

  “I saw it, too,” Robert said. “Something big. Like, really big. Flew sort of above us and past.”

  “Well, what was it?”

  “Couldn’t really see. It’s too dark out. Looked kind of flat. Maybe that was the wings.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “Oh, right, wings. Maybe it’s a dragon, Donald. Please.”

  “Whatever it is, let’s not give it a reason to come after us,” Mickey said. “I don’t have any bullets for my gun.”

  “Ammunition,” Lysette said.

  “Whatever. Look, let’s stay away from the windows and keep quiet, okay? We should be hiding, not drawing attention to ourselves.”

  Jolly was about to say That’s a good idea when something wide and heavy hit the front windows with a crash. The glass on the right side of the windows exploded inwards, scattering everyone as they cowered from the splinters of glass flying through the air.

  He followed suit, covering his face with his arm reflexively. When he looked back up to see what had slammed into the side of his apartment building, he found himself staring, blinking, his eyes refusing to believe what they saw.

  It looked to Jolly like a massive starfish was attached to the still-intact left side window; a beaked mouth undulated in the middle of the glass, and the remainder was covered by a pulsating mass of orange flesh pressed flat against it. Large tentacles, each thicker than a python, snaked through the broken window on the right and weaved their way through the living room, sending everyone scattering.

  “It’s a giant squid!” someone shouted out.

  I’m not sure that’s technically a giant squid, part of Jolly’s mind thought, before the rest of his mind told that part to shut the fuck up and focus on the fact that a giant flying something was stuck to the window and waving tentacles everywhere in the living room and grabbing people around the waist.

  Lysette flew into action. Her sword was out of its scabbard and flashing with motion before Jolly could think Holy Shit. One flash, and the tentacle around Lydia’s waist was severed. Another, and a second tentacle grabbing Donald was chopped into two pieces. A leaping cartwheel and a third flash of steel, and a tentacle that had Robert gripped by the arm was sliced in half.

  The three severed tentacles recoiled back through the window, spewing orange ichor out of the ends, and the beaked mouth pressed against the glass of the front window seemed to quiver in pain. Lysette took hold of the duct-taped broomstick and butcher knife spear that Robert held, started to pull it away from him, and then stopped.

  “May I use this?” she asked.

  “What? Y-yeah, sure,” Robert said, frozen in place.

  “Thanks,” Lysette said, then spun and hurled the spear at the front window as hard as she could.

  The makeshift spear sailed through the air, lighting its way with the flashlight taped to its length. The tip drove straight through the glass of the front window and embedded itself into the beaked mouth gibbering on the other side.

  The creature shrieked, then, a piercing shriek that sounded like a fire alarm, and it shook itself free from the side of the building. The remainder of its tentacles retracted through the window in a flash and with the sound of wide, membranous wings flapping, the creature disappeared into the night air, the spear still hanging from its mouth.

  “You killed it,” Robert said.

  “I don’t think so,” Lysette said. “But it isn’t going to be whistling Dixie any time soon.”

  Robert stared at her as if he were unsure which were the more alien creature; Lysette, or the squid-thing that had flown off into the night. She nodded in the midst of the sudden awkward silence.

  “I, um… I appreciate your letting me use this sword, Robert,” Lysette said. “You were right. It is quite sharp.”

  “K-Keep it,” Robert said, looking down at the bit of severed tentacle still wrapped around his arm. “It’s yours.”

  “Thank you. That’s very generous of you,” Lysette said. “Hey, Jolly! You were right! This…”

  She was interrupted by a swarm of creatures flying in through the broken half of the front window, buzzing past her and Robert and spreading out into the living room. They looked like enormous insects, the size of birds, with fleshy pink bodies, leathery wings, and long tails hanging down below them.

  “What are those?” Mickey said. “Bats? Bugs? Bat bugs?”

  “Who cares?” Lysette said, ducking low beneath them as they swarmed in through the window. “Kill them!”

  Jolly swung his hammer uselessly at a giant bug that flew a little too close for comfort. “Watch yourselves, everybody. They’ve got stingers on those big tails.”

  As with the tentacles, the buzzing swarm of giant bat-bugs sent everyone in the living room scurrying around like terrified children. Flashlight beams waved wildly, catching the giant insects briefly in their beams as they flapped and dipped and flew about the room.

  “Stay together. Stay together!” Jolly shouted.

  Nobody listened. The living room quickly turned into a chaotic mess of flapping bugs the size the bats, waving flashlight beams, and shrieking people swinging their hands around their heads uselessly in an attempt to keep the bugs away.

  Robert was running around in circles, screaming, bumping repeatedly into Lysette as she deftly chopped bugs out of the air with her sword. After the third bump, she thought briefly about chopping him, too, but decided to follow Jolly’s advice and help him out instead.

  She spotted a tennis racket left forgotten on the couch, scooping it up with her free hand and shoving it towards Robert. “Take it!”

  “What?”

  “Take the racket. Smack a bug to the ground, then I’ll stab it. Come on, Robert!”

  Robert grabbed on to the tennis racket with both hands like it was a lifeline, swinging it clumsily at the giant bugs buzzing and flapping their way past his head. Nothing connected; he was waving the racket more like a signal flag then a weapon.

  “Pick one,” Lysette said. “Just one. And whack it.”

  He ducked under another buzzing over-sized bug, looked around, spotted another bug flying about in the waving flashlight beams lighting up the apartment. A second to watch its path, a quick wind up, and he swung away, connecting solidly enough with the bug to knock it to the floor.

  Lysette skewered it with her sword almost before it hit the ground. “That’s it, Robert! Do it again. Patty! Patty!”

  “What? What? Jesus, help me!” Patty said, flapping her arms around wildly at a pair of bugs flapping their way around her head.

  “Stop flopping your arms like a spas and use your spear. Stab the next bug that Robert knocks down.”

  “What?”

  “There!” Lysette said, pointing down at a second bug that fell victim to Robert’s tennis racket.

  “Ahhh!” Patty shrieked, stabbing wildly at the bug buzzing about on the floor. It took three tries, but she finally stabbed the bat-sized bug straight though the middle.

  “Keep going!” Lysette said.

  She moved off on her own, then, weaving through the group and skewering the giant bugs out of the air like kebabs. The rest of Jolly’s neighbors began to follow her example, watching how Robert knocked bugs to the ground to be finished off by Patty’s makeshift spear.

  “Donald!” Lydia said, waving a blanket around at the bugs. “Donald, I have one trapped in the blanket! Squish it, Donald! Squish it!”

  “Put it down! Put it down!” Donald said, stomping vigorously on the blanket once Lydia flung it to the ground.

  “Oh, you got it!”

  “Get another one! Get another one!”

  “Where’s Mickey?” Jolly asked. “Mickey?”

  “Over here,” Mickey said, f
rom under the dining room table.

  “Oh, good idea, Mickey,” Jolly said. “Someone help me block the broken window with the dining room table. So no more can get in.”

  “Right, exactly,” Mickey said, crawling out from under the table. “Do that.”

  Jolly started to help a few of his neighbors pull the dining room table over towards the broken side of the front window, when a pair of giant insects flapped their way directly into his face. He dropped his hammer, reflexively swatting at the big bugs, feeling his hands contact something soft and hairy and generally disgusting.

  “I got you, Jolly!” Donald said.

  The bugs were out of his face now, and Jolly saw that one of them had landed square on the center of Donald’s chest, skittering upwards towards his face. Jolly darted forward and slapped downward with his hands, knocking the bug to the floor.

  “I got it!” he said, stomping on it while it was down and squashing it in a splatter of green goo and bug guts. “I got it!”

  “Jolly, look,” Donald said.

  Embedded in the coffee table book that was duct-taped to Donald’s chest, was the tip of a thick stinger. It looked like an over-sized version of a honey bee’s stinger, complete with poison sac.

  “Did it get you?” Jolly said.

  Donald reached beneath the book and felt around. “Nope. No, it didn’t go through. I’m good.”

  “See?” Jolly said. “See? Everyone makes fun, but that shit works!”

  “Jolly!” Mickey said. “Help me!”

  He turned to see that one of the bugs was caught in her hair; Mickey flailed her hands at it, trying to somehow simultaneously fling it away and at the same time completely avoid contacting it at all with her hands. The bug seemed as eager as her to get clear of the entanglement, flapping its wings and throwing its body around wildly.

  He thought about his dropped hammer but discarded that idea quickly. He’d knock Mickey’s skull in before he hit the wildly flapping bug. Still, he couldn’t just stand there; sooner or later, the bug would sting Mickey in the neck either purposefully or simply out of fear or instinct.

  “Um,” he said, and before he could talk himself out of it, he moved in and grabbed the bug’s whipping stinger tail. A moment later, he grabbed the flapping bug’s body with his other hand.