Magic Street Boogie
Page 1
Magic Street Boogie
Scions of Magic™ Book One
TR Cameron
Michael Anderle
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 TR Cameron & Michael Anderle
Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design
http://jcalebdesign.com / jcalebdesign@gmail.com
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, November, 2019
ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-567-5
Print: 978-1-64202-568-2
The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-19 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Author Notes - TR Cameron
Author Notes - Martha Carr
Other series in the Oriceran Universe:
Books by Michael Anderle
Connect with Michael Anderle
Magic Street Boogie Team
Beta Team
Larry Omans, Nicole Emens, Kelly O’Donnell,
John Ashmore
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Dave Hicks
Jeff Eaton
Micky Cocker
Deb Mader
Paul Westman
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Skyhunter Editing Team
Dedications
Dedication: For those who seek wonder around every corner and in each turning page. And, as always, for Dylan.
— TR Cameron
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
To Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
To Live The Life We Are
Called.
— Michael
Chapter One
The dwarf behind the bar yelled, “Hey, idiots. Knock it off.”
Cali Leblanc slapped the groping hands of the frat boy foursome away as she made her way to the long divider of polished wood that separated the owner from his patrons. She set the tray down a little harder than intended and shook her head at Zeb. “Tourists, right?”
The Drunken Dragons Tavern was a locals bar. More than that, it provided a haven where the city’s magical beings could congregate, more often than not in peaceful coexistence. It lay on the outskirts of the French Quarter, which meant most of the out-of-towners visiting New Orleans for vacation, business, or the intensive debauchery of Mardi Gras never knew it existed. The wooden placard hung outside over the entrance featured a red dragon clinking beer steins with a blue one, both recently repainted. Their cheap crystal eyes flashed when the sun caught them.
She raised an eyebrow as she resumed their long-standing argument. “You know it’s the damn gems in the sign that attract them, right? You can see the things from blocks away.”
Zeb patted the impressive dark thatch of hair that lay against his chest and shook his head. His smile was mostly lost in the beard and mustache that covered his face, but the crinkles around his stunning blue eyes suggested he still enjoyed the game as much as she did. “Their money spends. As long as they don’t cause trouble with the regulars or the staff, they’re welcome.”
As she was the only person at the moment who qualified as staff, his meaning was apparent. His bellows across the single main room took care of most issues before they started, and his gaze always seemed to be on her when someone tried to interfere with her work. I only wish he’d give the cute ones a little more time before he scares them away. Seven and a half months before, after the worst day of her life, the dwarf had appointed himself her de facto guardian and had proven both his aptitude and his over-enthusiasm for the role ever since.
She removed and re-secured the elastic that restrained her curly red hair and wiped her forehead. Even with the air conditioner doing its best, October in the south was an oven and work always made her feel half-cooked. Unlike some drinking places around town, The Drunken Dragons didn’t go in for skimpy outfits to entice tourists. Her standard work uniform of black jeans, matching boots, and a white button-down with a tank beneath was as neutral as could be. But, unfortunately, it did little to help her to keep her cool.
As if he could read her mind—and who knew, maybe he could—Zeb handed her a glass of iced water that she guzzled. She knew very little about his magic, and on the rare occasions when she’d tried to pry for more, he’d deflected her questions smoothly. Really, she was only positive about three things where the dwarf was concerned. First, he was originally from Oriceran, the magical planet that crossed over with Earth more each day. Second, he watched over her with the intensity of a hawk tracking a limping rabbit. And finally, he believed in shutting down small problems before they became big ones, usually with a sharp tongue and loud voice.
Cali lowered her head. “Yeah, but some people aren’t worth the trouble their money buys.” The design of the establishment reflected his desire to keep an eye on his patrons. Long wooden tables ran the length of the room, butted up against one another to form three separate rows with benches and chairs on both sides. On a busy night, elves would rub elbows with gnomes, and the occasional giant Kilomea would spread into space allocated for four.
No species was prohibited, and the only rule was that they take any conflicts outside the walls. The dwarf’s glower was sufficient threat to forestall most potential inappropriate behavior, but a wicked-looking double-bladed battle ax hung behind the bar to back it up. She’d never seen it leave its position.
Zeb pulled a pipe from beneath the counter and took several puffs before he stowed it again. Sweet tobacco smoke filled the air between them. Even when he wasn’t actively smoking, his clothes smelled of the stuff so much that she now associated it with him. Technically, the tavern was smoke-free, so he kept his vice hidden most of the time. “They’re simply young fools. Maybe get them to eat something, though.” A crash sounded from the direction of the foursome, and she swiveled her head to see that two of them stood with fists raised. “Okay, they’re young, stupid, fools. Go break it up.”
She dodged and
wove between the revelers on her way to the men. Even though the rest of the patrons didn’t seem to care about the impending battle, it was still crowded enough on this Friday night to make movement a challenge. Both chuckleheads were dressed alike in t-shirts with beer logos on them, jean shorts, and slip-on shoes. If you’re going to be a stereotype, why that stereotype?
When she reached them, they were exchanging taunts while each tried to muster the nerve to start something and, when they failed, attempted to goad their opponent into doing so. She slid smoothly into the gap between them and pushed them apart with a hand on each of their chests.
“Listen, guys, I’m not sure what has you ticked off, but this isn’t the place. If you want to fight, take it outside. Otherwise, you might disturb the patrons, and these aren’t the type of folks you want to get upset at you.” They looked first at her, then at the room around them, and finally at each other.
She thought she had them convinced, but the taste of black licorice washed over her tongue as her magic read the men through her touch. It was stronger from her right, and that man sneered predictably and drew his arm back for a punch. She sighed before she ducked under it, caught his wrist, and wrenched it down with a twist. He howled and dropped to a knee. She raised her other hand to point at his foe. “Don’t even think about it.” He backed away, his palms raised.
From the direction of the bar came a gruff, “Pay up and begone, you four,” and she nodded.
“You heard the man. I’ll release your friend here once you all are outside.” He attempted to rise, and she twisted his wrist against the bone, which drew a yelp. She scowled down at him. “Behave, you, or I’ll let the boss take care of you. Trust me, yours wouldn’t be the first blood he’s washed off that ax.” He paled, and she looked up in time to see Zeb smother a smile. Finally, the others were gone and she freed her captive. He rubbed his arm as he rose, and she kept her weight equally balanced in case he decided to try something she’d need to deal with. The smarter part of his brain won out, and he flipped her off and made his way to the exit.
She collected their cups to the sound of the room’s low laughter as the door slammed closed behind them. A Dark Elf she particularly liked raised a fist, and she bumped it with a smile. She set the glasses on the bar and the dwarf moved over to collect them for washing. He offered her a grin. “Well done. You have a way with idiots.”
A chuckle escaped her. “You realize you totally set yourself up, right?”
He nodded. “But you’re far too wise to take advantage.”
Cali leaned both elbows on the polished wood and invoked another of their frequent discussion topics. “You know, aren’t you supposed to be the rage-driven warrior? Why do I fight your battles for you?”
Like always, he grinned and tapped his temple. “Brains over brawn. I’m smart enough to have you do it for me.” His eyes flicked over her shoulder, and he shook his head with a sigh “Jarten ran without paying. Again. Stop him but don’t hurt him. Much.”
She spun and dashed to the door. It’s not Friday night if I don’t have to chase some idiot over the price of a drink or two.
Her quarry was one of the many people of Atlantean descent who populated the Big Easy. The legendary undersea city had really existed like the legends said, but its population was originally from Oriceran. Atlantis had been destroyed long before, but the bloodline lived on, strong enough to be seen easily in some but weak enough to be invisible in others. In Jarten, it was weak.
Her own half-Atlantean lineage was most visible in her hair, which was thick, curly, and frequently downright annoying.
His magical ancestry didn’t make the man she pursued any faster than normal. His lead dwindled rapidly as he pounded along the street. He turned into an alley, and his head swiveled left and right, up and down, as he sought options. Fortunately for her, these houses were similar to many in the town and protected by high walls topped with sharp rocks, broken glass, or pointed iron spikes. When she’d closed the gap to six feet, she yelled, “Jar, knock it off, you idiot. It’s not like you won’t be back in a week.”
He flashed out of sight ahead, and she skidded to a stop as she rounded the corner and discovered three other people standing with him. They all looked to be close to the age when they’d graduate college if they actually attended. Two were male and of a body type similar to Jarten’s, which meant tall and thin. The woman was her height, which was to say neither tall nor short but had at least twenty pounds on her, all of it muscle. Cali nodded. “Folks. See if you can get chucklehead there to pay the tab he owes at the tavern.”
The others stepped in front of her quarry and the obvious defensive action drew a sigh from her. The tallest of the group raised his head and looked down his sharp nose. His Atlantean blood was obvious in his thick hair, which was gathered into ratty dreadlocks. He spoke with an unexpectedly low, gravelly voice. “How about you cover this one for him? And, if you’re feeling kind, you could cough up a few bucks for us, too.”
She would have imagined Jarten would be the runt of the litter, but the third man added a postscript in a weaseling tone. “Yeah, I could use a few bucks.” Cali met the eyes of the group’s lone female, who shook her head in shared disappointment at the other gender but made no move to step away from her friends. No Atlantean blood was obvious in her, but it seemed almost a certainty that it was there. She’d heard rumors that Jarten was running with a group who drew lines based on ethnicity but hadn’t realized it was a magical one. Her guess had been Cajun, given his accent. I guess not.
Cali neither retreated nor showed concern. “Here’s the thing. My boss sent me out to bring back what Jar owes. I don’t care if it comes from him or if y’all take up a collection to support the stupidest among you, but I’ll leave here with it or with him. Come on, we’re talking ten bucks.” It was really six, but she decided she deserved something for running in the heat.
The man with the voice broke into a grin. “You may want to rethink that. There are four of us. And while you may think your karate is fancy, we have our own talents as well.”
“Him or the money.” She shrugged. “Now would be good.”
Their leader gestured, and the least among them charged, holding something in his hand. She identified it as a tree branch, still with twigs attached, and he scratched a line of red onto his face when he brought it toward her in a wild swing. Even though they’d broken the seal and implied they had magic, she wasn’t ready to reveal hers unless it became necessary. Her father’s voice, kindly and encouraging, had reminded her often to “Always keep your hole card hidden.”
She skipped inside the arc of the wood and delivered a sharp punch that channeled the power of her movement into his solar plexus. He gasped and dropped out of the fight for the moment. She looked from his prone form back to her foes’ spokesperson. “So, can we call this done?”
He peered over his shoulder at the woman, and she stalked forward. Her thick legs showed rippling muscles below her cutoff jeans, and the tank top she wore bared powerful arms. Cali shook her head. I could look like that if I spent more time in the gym. Or any time in the gym.
Her opponent led with a wrestling technique, faked a bear hug, and tried to power past to get behind her. Cali set her feet and let it happen. Before the other woman could lock an arm around her neck, however, she dropped into a crouch and pistoned her elbow up and back while she twisted her core with the strike. This adversary, too, succumbed to the solar plexus blow, but it required a quick foot sweep to bring her to the ground. She moved away from the downed figures and circled left to ensure a clear space to act.
The leader waved at Jarten, who shook his head. The man slapped him on the side of the head, but the object of her search didn’t comply. Finally, the bigger man growled, “Okay, girl, let’s do this.”
She snapped, “Don’t call me girl,” as he raised his arms. She performed a reasonably proficient cartwheel to her left as the space between them filled with wavering light and the fenc
e behind her shattered. Thankfully, she’d guessed he’d go for the home run right off the bat, and the best defense was to not be in the way of it. Her martial arts training was all about avoiding blows rather than standing tall in front of them. She waved her hand, imagined herself running away, and summoned an illusion to make it look real while another appeared to mask her lack of actual movement.
As he spun to launch an attack at the visible false-Cali, she stepped into his blind spot and hooked his outstretched arm. After a thrust of her hip and twist of her body, he launched over her to land hard on the pavement. She turned in case Jarten planned to use her distraction to deliver a sucker punch, but instead, he used it to run. With a sigh at the need to expend more magic, she directed a thin force beam at his feet. He squealed as he tripped and fell.
She yanked his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out the ten-dollar bill he had inside. “You really are an idiot, you know that? From now on, you pay in advance. Your friends too.”