Power Game

by Brad Magnarella

  “Holy shit!” he gasped.

  Relief poured through me. “You’re all right,” I said, reaching toward him.

  He looked from my hand holding his shoulder to my other hand clasping the sword. He patted his stomach. Though his white shirt was torn where the blade had penetrated, there was no blood.

  “Y-you ran me through,” he stammered.

  “But you’re all right,” I said with more confidence. He wouldn’t be sitting up, much less talking, if the wound hadn’t healed. “Just give yourself a minute, take some deep breaths, and I’ll try to explain—”

  “You ran me through,” he repeated.

  “Do you want a trophy or something?” Tabitha muttered. “We heard you the first time.”

  The man looked over at her, then at the ball of light crackling overhead. With a cry, he scrambled to his feet and bolted blindly. Fortunately, it was in the direction of the staircase. The demon had already dispersed the locking spell, so I opened the door with a force invocation. A dull square of light fell inside the pump house. The man oriented toward it and seconds later, his loafers were slapping up the steps.

  I would’ve liked to have asked what he remembered about the possession—it might have shed some light on how the demon had been operating—but the man was in no condition. Anyway, what was he going to tell someone who’d just buried a sword in his gut?

  I turned to Tabitha. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “Well, I would’ve hated to see your brains all over the place. Especially if any ended up on me.”

  I peered around, paranoid now that there was a demon behind every corner. “I’m really going to need you to keep your eyes peeled,” I told her. “You heard what he said—there are more of them, and they’re all after Sefu. If this demon thought I had an in with Sefu, others could have the same idea.”

  “You give servant demons far too much credit.”

  “I don’t think I’ve been giving them credit enough.”

  I thought about how this one had tracked me down. If his master had suspected Sefu of being in the city, he could have searched until he’d found a demon bonded to a magic-user in the area—Thelonious. The demon master could then have tapped into our bond and directed his servant to me, wrongly assuming I would know something about Sefu simply on the “birds of a feather” principle. Had this been a unique case? Or were other demon masters making the same assumption?

  No way to know, which meant I had to assume they were.

  “I’m serious, Tabitha. If a demon so much as sneezes, I want to know.”

  “Okay, fine,” she said irritably. “God, you’re as dramatic as the man who just left here. Now can we get the other two wards over with so I can eat?”

  18

  I did the whole head-swivel thing as we visited the next two wards. Even Tabitha seemed to be on heightened alert, though she took pains not to show it. We didn’t encounter any demons, however, and the wards appeared to be functioning as they should, no signs anyone had tampered with them. The conjurer at the con, who I had to believe now was Sefu, was concealing their magic in some other way.

  On our final walk back to the cab, I veered toward a hotdog stand. Tabitha planted her paws and leaned back, making the harness push the hair up around her neck until she looked like a lion. “No,” she said.

  “Oh, c’mon. It’s just something to fill our stomachs.”

  “Well, what about that place.” She nodded at a bistro across the street. “That looks nice.”

  “It’s a sit-down restaurant. There’s no time.” I tried to pull her toward the stand, but she lowered her center of gravity even more and yowled in protest. That earned me a few angry looks from obvious cat lovers. “Look, it’s this or nothing,” I hissed.

  I must have sounded serious because Tabitha relented with a loud sigh.

  “At least order extra onion so I don’t have to taste the intestine.”

  “Sure, you can have all the onion you want. Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “I’d feel better if I weren’t about to gag on a footlong.”

  “I’m serious. Mae’s a veterinarian, you know.”

  Tabitha let out an aggrieved sigh.

  “What? She might be able to help.”

  “That would be so awkward, darling, us being acquaintances now. And you know how I feel about awkwardness.”

  “She wouldn’t have to touch you or anything. I could just, you know, describe your symptoms.”

  Tabitha shook her head. “Still too personal.”

  “I won’t tell her it’s you. I’ll … I’ll say it’s my neighbor’s cat.”

  “Oh God, darling. Could you be any more obvious?”

  “Well, what do you want me to tell her?” I asked in exasperation.

  “Can we eat first and talk about this afterwards?”

  Back in the cab, I fed Tabitha her hotdogs out of sight of the driver. Despite her earlier gripes, she ate voraciously, looking disappointed when she’d finished the three I’d bought her. I gave her mine to keep her quiet.

  While she ate, I called Vega.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “No more monsters,” she said. “And no more freak-outs from Buster.”

  “Thank God.” The relief unbunched the muscles in my shoulders. I’d been convinced something was going to happen in my absence.

  “How about on your end?” she asked.

  “We’re on our way back. The wards are working as designed, so it’s not them. We did have a run-in with a demon. We’re fine,” I added quickly. “The demon’s been banished, but it looks like the hellion crew is serious about finding Sefu.”

  “Does that change anything?” she asked.

  “Besides heightening the urgency? Not really, but I want to try to cloak my connection with Thelonious. I think that’s how the demon tracked me. And the last thing we need right now is more demons showing up.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Yeah, I think so. It’s just going to take a little time. How’s the evacuation going?”

  She hesitated. “It hit a snag.”

  “A snag?”

  “I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

  “How are Mae and Bree-Yark doing?”

  “Mae’s fine—she’s with me—but we haven’t been able to bring Bree-Yark up on the radio. Mae was the last one to see him. That was when he left to tail the fae.”

  Great. I hoped Bree-Yark hadn’t gotten into trouble again, but I was also worried something had happened to him. The reputation of the lunar fae aside, one of them could be Sefu. That would explain why the wards—and I—hadn’t detected their magic. And if Sefu was conjuring frog-beasts and fire-breathing lizards, Bree-Yark was going to have his hands full if he became the target of the same magic.

  “He managed to survive eighty years in a goblin army,” I said, as much to reassure myself. “I’m sure he’ll turn up. I’ll call you when I get there.”

  “This is as close as I can go,” the cabbie said as I put my phone away.

  I looked up to find us stopped in front of a police barricade. At the other end of the block, a procession was moving down the street. I recognized the convention-goers by their costumes. I wasn’t sure what Vega meant by “a snag” because it looked like the evacuation was underway, complete with police escort.

  I paid the cabbie a small fortune for the hour plus he’d driven us around, and Tabitha and I made our way toward the evacuation. Remembering how pumped Stan the Man had been that morning, I caught myself feeling a little bad for the guy, as well as for the attendees who had put so much time and thought into their costumes. Epic Con had been a big deal to them, one of those events they’d probably been anticipating all year. Like with most things, it only took one jerk to spoil the fun.

  When I arrived at the far street, the attendees appeared to be handling it well. Rows of men and women dressed as futuristic troops marched in lockstep, while behind them, a gaggle of Smurfs skipped along, tossing
flower pedals and waving to the crowds gathered along the sidewalk. When I saw a float approaching—something about a Strange Brigade—I realized I wasn’t witnessing an evacuation, but a planned procession.

  I pulled out my program, and there it was: the “Noon Parade.” Epic Con was going full steam ahead, as if nothing had happened. Swearing, I began hurrying along the route in the reverse direction, toward the hotel.

  “Would you slow down?” Tabitha complained. “The hotdogs are climbing up my throat.”

  But I couldn’t slow down. I was having flashbacks to Yankee Stadium and the 50,000 fans who had been trapped inside.

  “We’re almost there,” I told her.

  That was when I noticed a group in familiar red robes coming toward us as part of the procession. Brian Lutz, who was the only one with his hood down, led the formation with his taped-together wand and a look of high arrogance. Two others flanked him, one wearing what looked like a medieval gauntlet adorned with metallic feathers, which he held in a fist across his chest. The other wore a headdress, which glinted in the recesses of her hood. The crests on their breasts bore dragons, the different colors indicative of rank, I guessed. Brian’s was gold. I scanned the entire group as a precaution, but no magic jumped out.

  When Brian looked over, I hunkered my head down—I didn’t want to be challenged to another duel—but he didn’t notice me. He pushed his chest out and kept walking as though everyone were looking at him and they were all his underlings.

  Whatever gets you off, pal.

  Their procession was almost past me when a trailing member of the red-robed brigade broke away and pushed an envelope into my hand. By the young man’s brown crest and position at the back, I pegged him as a bottom-runger. I caught a glimpse of his face before he turned and ran back to the others. His eyes had appeared vacant, as if from a lifetime of computer-gaming. They’d flickered oddly too.

  “Hey!” I called after him, but he didn’t turn.

  I hastily opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of printed paper.

  The Military Federation of the Dragon

  (Membership by Invitation Only!)

  Open your eyes! Look around you! The Age of Humans has delivered nothing but Greed, Corruption, Duplicity, and Heartache. We have become a Sickness on Earth!

  Now gaze back through the Mists of Time to the Lucero Millennium, a Golden Age governed by Dragons—most notably, Drage the Wise.

  Drage ruled with ultimate Wisdom, Power, and Justice. Indeed, He was the purest expression of Leadership this World has ever known. The King of All, He would be sickened to see how thoroughly Humankind now mocks and defiles his Legacy.

  But rejoice! His Return has been foretold! He will rise to cleanse the Earth in Fire. He will commence the Red Era—a New Dawn. A Second Golden Age will follow.

  Until then, we will defend His Memory and honor His Spirit.

  We are the Military Federation of the Dragon.

  If nothing else, the manifesto explained the fantastical, if not fanatical, ideas behind Brian’s schtick. It was probably what had brought his group together, despite the ridiculous name. But why had his minion given it to me? I peered back inside the envelope. At the bottom sat a red ticket. It was good for a free drink.

  I sighed.

  Like at the morning’s session, they were trying to grow their congregation. Stuffing everything into a coat pocket, I continued along the sidewalk until we reached the front of the hotel. The same doorman from that morning spotted me. He said something into a walkie-talkie and then gave me an apologetic look.

  “Sorry,” he said, lowering the walkie-talkie. “Can’t let you back in.”

  “Huh? I’m working with the police.”

  “Not anymore,” he said.

  “What are you talking about? Ask them.” I gestured to the officers just beyond the doors. They would have recognized me, but they appeared to be making a point of avoiding eye contact. The doorman didn’t even glance back at them.

  “Like I said, sorry. It’s not my call.”

  I was going to ask him whose it was, when Stan Burke appeared past the officers and burst outside. The conference organizer looked nothing like the cool cat from that morning. His face was red, lean arms bowed out to the sides in a way that made him appear vaguely threatening. The wind thrashed his long gray hair.

  “Get the hell out of here!” he shouted. “I don’t want you within a thousand feet of my convention!”

  It wasn’t hard to figure out what this was about. “Why?” I asked. “Because you’d rather see your attendees slaughtered?”

  “Because you’re trying to ruin it!”

  His tenor rose to a screech, drawing attention from nearby parade viewers.

  “Listen to me,” I said in a lowered voice. “You’re on the hook for a lot of money. I get it. But you have security issues. Shut down the con for us to deal with them, and maybe you can reopen it before the end of the weekend.”

  Stan stopped in front of me. Though built like a scarecrow, he had me by a couple inches. He glared down his beaklike nose at me. “I’m not shutting anything down. Oh, I heard what brought you here—an ‘anonymous call.’” He air-quoted the words. “You don’t think I know about you? You don’t think I know the things you can do. Invocations, spell work, conjurings. And, wow, you show up at my convention and just happen to encounter conjured creatures. What are the chances? Oh, and look, now we have to shut it down! Did one of the other cons put you up to this?”

  “No,” I shot back, an angry heat working its way up my neck.

  “Or was it the fae?”

  “The fae?”

  “Are you working for them?” He punctuated the question with a finger-jab to my chest.

  I could put up with a lot from people, but having my personal space invaded? Unh-uh. I was preparing to shove him back with an invocation, when his shirt collar drew taut across his throat. He gargled, eyes bugging out, and in the next moment, he was being slammed onto his back. Bree-Yark planted a work boot on his chest and cocked his fist.

  “No one manhandles my teammate,” he barked.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “C’mon, remember what we talked about. Let him up.”

  Bree-Yark grunted as if he was going to relent, but then his eyes fell to Stan’s “THE ONLY GOOD GOBLIN IS A DEAD ONE” T-shirt. I watched the anger on his face go from simmering to atomic. “Oh yeah? We’ll see about that!”

  “Protezione,” I whispered.

  A protective shield manifested over Stan. He blinked through it at the goblin fist that had stopped inches from his face. I followed up with a force invocation to pull Bree-Yark back, then grabbed him by the collar of his bomber jacket.

  “That’s enough,” I said sternly.

  Stan scrambled to his feet as officers emerged from the hotel and came between us.

  “You saw him!” Stan screamed. “He assaulted me! I want them both out of here!”

  “Go up a couple more octaves, why don’t you,” Tabitha said, flattening her ears in annoyance.

  Bree-Yark struggled in my grip, but my invocation held him fast. Fortunately, Vega emerged from behind the officers. “It’s all right,” she said to them. “I’ll handle this. Stan, go back inside.” The organizer glared at us for another moment before joining the officers as they returned through the doors.

  “And change your stinking shirt!” Bree-Yark shouted after him.

  “I’m guessing this is the ‘snag’ you mentioned?” I said to Vega.

  “Yeah, and he’s got the chief of police coming down on his side. The man’s obviously connected. I’m working on it.”

  “I can put a call into Budge,” I said, already pulling out my phone.

  “I already tried. The mayor’s at some sort of conference in Europe.”

  “So I can’t go in?” I asked incredulously as I put the phone away.

  “Not without a replay of what just happened,” she said. “And Stan has a temporary restraining order on you. Te
chnically, you’re supposed to stay a thousand feet away from the hotel.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Like I said, I’m working on it. I’ll get you back in.”

  I looked down at Bree-Yark. Though he continued to glare at the door Stan had reentered through, he’d stopped struggling. “What happened to you?” I asked, releasing him. “You disappeared on us.”

  “Yeah, I think those fae bastards made me. They led me outside, then gave me the slip. Oh, and this stopped working.” He pulled his radio from a jacket pocket.

  As Vega swapped his for hers—she would get another one—I thought about what Stan had said, suggesting that the fae had put me up to closing the con. Did they have history? I wondered now if the lunar fae had planned to plant creatures around the conference to terrorize the attendees. Is that why they’d been hanging around the third floor?

  “Any idea where they went?” I asked Bree-Yark.

  He looked around and shrugged. “Could be anywhere. I’m not feeling them out here, though.”

  Which probably meant they were back inside. I peered through the glass doors. Attendees not partaking in the parade continued to mill around. They were probably even being allowed back onto the third floor, too.

  Shit, I spat to myself.

  I didn’t want Vega staying inside, but she was the only one in law enforcement who understood the danger and could take over. Plus, she was armed with silver ammo. She had cold iron ones too, if needed.

  Still, I wanted some early warning for her.

  “How does Mae feel about staying with you?” I asked Vega.

  “She refused to evacuate when no one else was, so I’d say she’s fine with it.”

  I spotted Mae now through the glass. She smiled as if she knew what we were talking about and held up Buster’s carrier. I could see his tendrils wriggling through the mesh door. I gave them both a thumb’s up.

  Bree-Yark waved at her.

  “All right,” I said to Vega, already thinking of how I could use the time to our advantage. “If you and Mae cover the con, Bree-Yark can give me a lift back to my apartment. I’m going to try a spell to cloak my bond to Thelonious. There are also a couple things I want to grab. Any other updates?”