Courts and Cabals 3

by G. S. D'Moore

  “I guess there are worse ways to die,” I grinned as I got a face full of her tig old bitties. I almost moved my head back and forth in a weak motorboat, but time was of the essence.

  “I’m so sorry!” Butters jumped off me like I was made of acid. Her face was beet red, and she looked everywhere else but at me.

  “It’s fine,” I threw the blankets off me, forgetting I was naked, and sporting a half-chub.

  Butter’s eyes bulged as she looked at what she’d done to my cock, and whirled away. Night was nowhere near as prude. “Nice,” she smiled and winked at me.

  I smiled back, took a step, and my legs gave out. “Stupid barely-healed spine!” I grabbed the bed before I faceplanted.

  “Are you okay?” Butters was at my side; fighting her views on impropriety to help me to my feet.

  “Fuck,” I shook my head as I tried to massage my quads to get the blood flowing. “I don’t think I can make it to the bathroom, much less out a window.”

  “I can help,” Butters stated with conviction, and for a second, I thought she was going to scoop me up like a bride on her wedding night.

  Instead, something strange happened. She placed her hands on either side of my face and stared into my eyes. Her stormy-blues were filled with fear, determination, and more than a little excitement.

  I didn’t know Butters any better than Skella or Night, but I got a feeling that she was a fighter. She’d fought against herself to sculpt her body to perfection. She’d fought on whatever athletic battlefield required her to be in such phenomenal shape. She’d fought to be admitted to a sorority of mages, which was probably a big deal for a college girl; and, she’d fought society’s view of her. People saw her face and made all sorts of assumptions, but as I stared into her eyes, I saw someone who cared enough to do what happened next.

  All of a sudden, my chest felt very hot; like I was four again and thought it was a good idea to touch the kitchen stove. The feeling only intensified, and I cried out. She gripped me harder. My whole body started to shake as heat flooded into me. The white-hot Fae gift in my core rose to meet the threat . . . and ate it. The power in me gobbled up the heat like it was a fatty at an all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving buffet. That’s when I realized it wasn’t heat at all. It was magic.

  I gasped as a full body shudder rampaged through me. It curled my toes, hardened my dick enough that it slapped against Butter’s thigh with a smack, and continued north until I was sure my hair was standing on end like I’d just been electrocuted. When she released me, she sagged against the bed and struggled to catch her breath. I on the other hand, stood up under my own power for the first time in what felt like forever. I’d had a very long past few days, weeks, or months. I still didn’t have any idea how long I’d been out of it.

  “Gods damn, woman,” I breathed in my first breath as a new man.

  Butters smiled, and it was my turn to give her a hand. I was by no means at full strength – maybe thirty percent – but that meant I was thirty percent more able to fight. If I was going to get torn apart, I’d rather be on my feet and go down swinging. If the thing outside didn’t know it had been in a fight, I hadn’t done my job.

  “By the Lady, Butters, you don’t even know him.” I turned and raised an eyebrow at Night.

  “Power transfer,” Butters explained. “Think of yourself as a car battery. I jump started you.”

  “You can say that again,” there was more than a little flirtation in my tone, but I didn’t give a shit. This woman had just given me a chance, and there was something about near-death that made any person want to feel alive. What was more alive than fucking?

  The creature chose that moment to strike, and Night crumbled to the ground. The shimmering air stayed in place . . . barely. I could feel it wavering. It wouldn’t survive another blow.

  Maybe it was the influence of Butter’s magic, or my Fae gifts working better, but I could feel the magic in the room. It was similar to the way I’d felt the judge back in New York, and been able to tell he was an Anima mage.

  I stopped the thought process before I went down that rabbit hole. “Less thinking, more living,” I told myself.

  Butters had the same idea. “Tie it off,” she ordered Night.

  Night nodded numbly from her place on the ground, and did something. I’m not sure what, but the shimmering barrier of air changed. It was still there, but it wasn’t connected to Night anymore.

  “Interesting.”

  “Get to the bathroom and get out of here,” Butters commanded. “Help her,” she ordered me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I wasn’t about to cross the amazon woman who was willing to stand between me and the Freddy Kruger-wannabe outside. I easily scooped up Night and headed for the bathroom.

  “Lady Nyx would like you,” the dark-haired woman purred, and I couldn’t help but stiffen below the belt.

  “Get your shit together,” I was about to go into battle. I might have to do it naked like the ancient Celts, but I wasn’t going to do it with a woody.

  I shouldered the door aside and entered the horror-fest that was a Tijuana Motel 6 bathroom. I wanted to gag, but ignored it as I focused on our escape route. To call the window a window was stretching the definition of the word. It was basically a slit in the top of the wall with a cheap pane of glass set in it. A slit Skella was desperately trying, and failing, to pull herself through.

  “Ha,” I laughed at her.

  “Don’t just ogle my ass. Help me through,” she ordered, like she was some medieval lady, and I, her vassal.

  I wanted to tell her to fuck off, and that she needed to get some junk in her trunk, but that would just waste time. Instead, I buried my ego and interlocked my hands so she could use them as a springboard to get to the window. She didn’t have the upper body strength of someone like Butters, and couldn’t pull herself up.

  With my boost, Skella got her hands on the ledge. Then her elbows. “Push me through,” she wheezed as I tried to maneuver into position to force her through the tiny opening.

  “After I do, you stand on the other side and help me get Night through,” I stated.

  “Whatever,” Skella replied as she tried to wiggle forward.

  I grabbed her foot. “Promise you’ll help your friends,” I held on despite her trying to kick me in the face.

  “Fine, I promise . . . fucking asshole,” she muttered as I started to push her forward.

  As it turned out, someone had a different plan. I shit you not, an honest-to-gods tentacle smashed through the window, scattered glass everywhere, and wrapped around Skella’s neck like a living noose. I froze in shock. Aside from National Geographic, the only other tentacles I’d seen were animated ones that were usually triple penetrating some doe-eyed girl. Pornhub was a wonderful thing full of every type of video imaginable. What did you think a hormonal, teenage boy with access to his first credit card was going to do? Just stick with plain, vanilla missionary stuff?

  Even tentacle porn didn’t do this thing justice. The best I could come up with was one of those things from Tremors; that movie with a young, badass Kevin Bacon fresh off his success in Footloose. It was as thick as a decent-sized tree branch, pink, slimy, and had a little mouth on the end with barbed fangs. Instead of digging those fangs into Skella’s neck, it looked right at me – with no eyes that I could make out – and made a strange hissing noise. I felt my asshole pucker in automatic response, as I scrambled back and dragged a screaming Night with me.

  The tentacle thing easily supported Skella’s hundred pounds, and even worse, the Kappa Magnus girl didn’t even twitch.

  “Shit, is she dead?” I didn’t get a chance to find out as the tentacle ripped Skella through the opening; taking a chunk of the frame with it.

  I didn’t wait around. I grabbed Night under her armpits and hustled back into the main room.

  Butters still stood a few feet from the door; her fists opening in closing like she was about to slug someone. Our sudden reentry broke her concentrat
ion.

  “What are you doing?” she stared at us in shock. “Get out of here.”

  “I’m not quite ready for you to go down in a blaze of glory and take all the credit,” I shot back, as I went through drawers looking for something to wear. The best I found was a slightly damp towel that barely fit around my waist. It would have to do.

  I told her about what happened to Skella, and her tanned face paled to match Night’s.

  “Nosferatu,” she whispered.

  “Vamps? No, I know vamps, and this ain’t them,” I replied, checking my power reserves in case we needed to make a run for it.

  I’d maybe added one percent since Butters jumpstarted me. I could carry Night on my back and run through the wall, but I didn’t know what else was out there. Claws and Tentacle might be a hell of a lot faster than me, so running would just make the hunt that much sweeter for them.

  “No,” I’d probably have to stay and fight, even if it was just a distraction for Butters and Night to get away. I didn’t know about Skella, but I guess I’d try to save her too.

  Ever since joining the cabal, I’d been infected with a disease; a disease called caring. My background as an orphan, and powerless human, had instilled in me a more Skella-like attitude: I took care of number one. Ever since Lilith, Dani, Xamira, and everyone else had put their asses on the line for me, I couldn’t help but return the favor. Butters, Night, and even Skella had saved my ass on that road. Sure, they’d hit me with their car first, but they didn’t abandon me; and Butters gave me the power boost. I couldn’t just walk out on them.

  Plus, they were girls. I didn’t like it when monsters attacked girls. If the monsters were a girl, like Aveena, I had no problem punching them in the fucking face; but the three Kappa Magnus sisters were very much human.

  “Fuck it,” I rotated my shoulders, cracked my neck, and stepped up next to Butters.

  She looked at me like I was an idiot. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  “Nope,” I got in a boxer’s stance and waited for whatever came through that door. “What gave it away?”

  “You think Nosferatu are vampires,” she stated, throwing me for a loop.

  “What? Of course, they are,” I fired back.

  Butters just shook her head. “People in California, Arizona, and New Mexico know the difference. South American cultures know them as Azeman, but it’s the European term Nosferatu that is more commonly used. Nosferatu are actually an entirely different classification of creature. People who are just too lazy or ignorant think vampires and Nosferatu are the same thing.”

  “Be more subtle, will you,” I frowned at the barb.

  “So, what’s the difference?” I couldn’t help but hear my wounded pride in my tone. I didn’t like Butters calling me lazy or ignorant.

  “First off, Nosferatu aren’t human. Vampires have a virus that transforms them, but they are otherwise very close to human. Nosferatu are more like giant bat creatures that feed on blood and wear a magical flesh mask that makes them look human.”

  “Like a Fae glamour?” I interrupted.

  “That’s a matter that’s up for debate, and would keep a room full of post-doc supernatural biologists arguing for days. I’m surprised you don’t know this, Cam. Its magical creatures 101.”

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to answer and reveal my naivety of all things collegiate.

  “Hello in there,” a cultured voice boomed from outside. “I have something that you want, and you have something that I want. Why don’t we avoid more property damage and talk like civilized people?”

  “It’s a trap,” my mind did its best Admiral Akbar impression.

  Whoever it was had us divided, cornered, and generally screwed. I’d had my fair share of faceoffs against assholes, and there was nothing cultured or civilized about it. Unfortunately, Butters didn’t have that same experience. She moved toward the door to open it.

  “Wait!” I yelled, reaching out to grab her hand. “Let’s think about this a minute.”

  “What’s there to think about? They have Skella. We can’t just leave her to a Nosferatu,” a shiver worked its way down her spine.

  Since I didn’t know shit about the supernaturals we were up against, I had to trust her judgement that dealing with Nosferatu was going to suck balls. It didn’t mean I had to like it. I let go of her hand so that was clear. My point was we didn’t have to bust out of the room just this second and get ambushed.

  “We’ll be out in a minute. Just tidying up!” I yelled back through the door. Butter’s brow scrunched in confusion. “We need to have a plan. Night, you with us?”

  “Like white on rice,” the other woman heaved herself to her feet. She wobbled from pure exhaustion, but stayed standing. Butters wasn’t the only tough girl in the room.

  “Okay . . . okay, okay,” I mumbled as I tried to think of what to do.

  During my cabal training, Peter had gone over a lot of team scenarios. Almost all of them depended on people working and training together for a significant period of time before going into the field. Butters, Night, and I didn’t have that luxury.

  “Okay,” I breathed in a little to clear my thoughts. “Night, can you still harden the air enough to make shields?”

  The woman winced. “A wet fart might get through, but I can try,” her shoulders stiffened, and I felt my scalp start to itch. She was working magic.

  “Butters, you’re an Ignis mage, do you have any ranged attacks?”

  The only time I’d ever seen a Ignis mage in action was when one tried to turn a troll into an extra-large stack of BBQ ribs in a casino lobby. The man had been a human flamethrower, but I didn’t know what Butters could do.

  “I’m good up to fifty feet,” she answered, rubbing her hands, and I felt an itch between my shoulder blades.

  “I’m going to need some Benadryl if I’m around mages too much,” I put off the irritating sensations and thought about the possibilities.

  Fifty feet was the range most people could accurately use a pistol. It was better than anything I could pull off at the moment. I checked my power levels. I was maybe at thirty-five percent strength if I was lucky, and a surge of adrenaline would be good for a little extra; but I still wasn’t sure I could go toe-to-toe with much of anything. I had no idea how strong a Nosferatu was, but judging by the way Butters talked about them, I didn’t think my chances were good. I could at least buy us some time before my tank ran dry.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  I could practically see the magic building in her palms.

  “Let’s just say I’m more of a close-combat specialist. If anyone gets close, stay behind me and I’ll deal with them,” I stated, more confidently than I felt.

  “Got it,” both women nodded.

  Even with everyone onboard with the plan, I still gave it a few minutes before I opened the door and led everyone out. Every second was more time Night and I had to recover. When I opened the door, I got my first look at Tijuana; which wasn’t much. The motel was on the outskirts and faced the desert, so I saw a lot of dirt, sand, and cacti. Despite being nearly pitch black – the moon decided to take the night off – I could still make out some details thanks to my Fae gifts.

  Then, there were the people here to rob us, beat us, make an example out of us, or just straight up murder us. They were highlighted by the motel’s floodlights that pointed into the parking lot.

  “Shit,” I gulped as I took it all in. It didn’t look good.

  Another part of my cabal training – Peter and Lark had really crammed a lot into the short time I was there – was situational awareness. Xamira had taught me that anything could be a weapon. Peter had broadened that view. Any environment I was in could be used to my advantage and the enemy’s disadvantage. Having situational awareness of the environment was a key to victory . . . most of the time. In this case, it looked like the deck was stacked against us.

  First off, the environment didn’t offer much of anything.
A handful of parked cars might provide cover and concealment from an attack; or in the case of the Toyota Camry with a UCSD bumper sticker, an avenue of escape. There was a vending machine about thirty feet to my right, but that was only good for a sugar rush. At the far end of the one-story motel, there was a collection of metal drums. They could be used for oil, gas, or disposing of bodies for all I knew. What I did know was it wasn’t going to do us any good that far away.

  The second thing I noticed, was that we were outnumbered; quickly followed by red flag number three: we were massively outgunned. That didn’t even count whoever Claws and Tentacle were. I was just considering raw firepower.

  “Guns,” I growled as I looked at the three vehicles parked in a half-moon crescent near our door.

  Two of the vehicles looked like they could have been armored, government SUVs a decade ago. They looked a little worse from wear, but if their armor was still good, then who was I to throw stones. Equally as bad for the three of us, were the men with M16s who were using the hood and trunk as cover. The old US army weapon might have been phased out for the newer M4s, but a bullet was still a bullet; it didn’t matter what it was fired from.

  If I didn’t feel like crapping my towel over the assault rifles, I considered it when I saw the vehicle parked between them. It was a pretty standard-looking jeep except they’d mounted a fucking machine gun on the roll cage surrounding the driver’s section. The guy manning the gun had his cheek to the stock and was staring down the sights directly at little, old me.

  “Butters, watch the machine gun,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.

  Beings with supernatural hearing might have heard, but the guys with guns were humans; dangerous, heavily-armed humans, but humans all the same. One scan of the cartel thugs was enough. My eyes snapped to the real threats. At the center of the enemy formation, leaning casually against the jeep, were two supernaturals. Both looked very human at the moment, but that could change in a heartbeat.

  There was a man and a woman. My gut told me the woman was Claws. She was lean . . . too lean, and not in the European-model way that Skella was. Claws looked like she didn’t get enough to eat. That, or she was an addict hooked on the hard stuff. I couldn’t see track marks from injection sights, but she had a manic look on her face that told me she was looking for another fix.