Running into Fire: An Urban Fantasy Adventure (Magic of Nasci Book 3)

by DM Fike

  Azar paused only for a moment to say, “Give us space, Ina.”

  I obeyed in a daze, scurrying out of the way as Azar marched right up to the defiant Darby facing the snarling copper bull. Darby may have been bold, but she was on the verge on losing the bout of fire volleyball. A side stream of fire bounced off her aura and struck her on the ear. Darby cried out in pain, her fingers faltering.

  Tabitha’s hands, swirling with water sigils, couldn’t help her eyas without letting her floating water orbs evaporate. “Azar!” the augur snapped. “Get on with it!”

  But Azar didn’t need Tabitha’s permission. She’d already slid her legs apart, arms circling in front of her as she worked her fingers through several rapid-fire sigils. I didn’t understand her strategy until the bull began to choke. Its fire stream on Darby lessened, diverted instead to Azar’s graceful movements. The bull’s sputtering soon turned to outright panic as fire shot out of its mouth involuntarily like a leaky faucet, obviously no longer under the vaettur’s control as it formed streamers of fire around the almost dancing Azar. Darby, relieved from the assault, fell exhausted to her knees.

  When the last bit of flame sputtered from the bull’s lips, Azar shouted, “Now!”

  Tabitha sent her water globs straight toward the bull, as sharp and fatal as any arrow. They pierced its thick hide, sending the khalkotauroi into howls of agony.

  Then Tabitha brought out the pièce de résistance, a five-pointed star. The water orbs sunk farther into the bull as Tabitha let loose her banishment sigil. The smoke intensified around the vaettur, not because of the fire, but because it was melting. Bit by bit, it lost fur, limbs, and finally its snouted face until it vanished in a cloud of putrid smoke.

  CHAPTER 7

  NORMALLY OUR JOB is finished when we banish a vaettur, but given the khalkotauroi had activated a forest fire, we had to stamp it out. Guntram caught up to us, and with two augurs and an accomplished fire shepherd, it only took a few hours to get everything contained. Guntram deprived oxygen from large patches of ground using air sigils, choking the larger flames to death. Azar and Tabitha accomplished the same thing with fire suppression, redirecting the fire’s path to places where it had no more fuel. Darby and I offered water service by soaking up water pith in nearby streams and bringing it back to dampen the flames.

  About the only hiccup we experienced was hiding from the occasional government helicopter splashing down chemicals to stop the blaze. This ruffled Tabitha since it sometimes interfered with her fire redirection, but what could you do? At least normal people cared enough to try. All five of us also purposefully avoided the western front of the blaze, where a group of on-ground firefighting trucks held the line. We made sure we weakened the fire so much they’d have to be idiots not to finish extinguishing the last 10% themselves.

  By the time we returned to the homestead, my lungs felt like someone had painted them over in a thick layer of sludge. All I wanted to do was soak in the hot spring, a very reasonable request, so I slinked off in that direction.

  “Haggard!” Tabitha’s shrill words beckoned me. “Debrief at the lodge. Now.”

  I flipped around, gesturing toward my ash-laden clothes. “Can’t it wait until we’ve recharged?”

  “No,” she snapped. “Not unless you intend to put more dryants in danger.”

  I cocked my head at her in confusion. “We put out the fire. What’s the rush?”

  Tabitha looked like she wanted to slap me, but Guntram intervened. “Just do as directed, Ina.”

  I might have continued arguing, but Azar stood next to us, calmly watching the exchange. I didn’t want to come off like a jerk in front of her, so I bit my tongue and trailed everyone else into the lodge.

  What the lodge lacked in modern amenities, it did make up for in a cool layout. Because shepherds thrived when constantly absorbing the four elements of Nasci, the common area had a dirt floor, a constant-burning fireplace, small glassless windows for natural air flow, and a wading pool built into the ground. We sat on the outer stones of the pool, letting our bare feet soak in the lukewarm water. I wriggled my toes, absorbing water pith to wash out the annoying excess of fire pith still stored in my system. Not as good as the hot spring but an okay second.

  Tabitha reminded me quickly I wasn’t there to relax. “Before we begin, let me remind you all that certain members present do not have authorization to discuss crucial details.” She glanced pointedly at me.

  I curled my hands into fists. Tabitha loved to pull rank. “Then why even bother having the eyases here?”

  Guntram answered. “Because it’s worthwhile for everyone involved to review a vaettur encounter so those in charge can make informed decisions.”

  What a jab at my intelligence. “C’mon, Guntram. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out that this is related to that weirdo breach we found yesterday.”

  While Guntram and Tabitha glared at me, Darby cocked her head to the side, puzzled. She obviously hadn’t heard anything about what Guntram and I had found yesterday.

  I decided to forge ahead for her benefit. “That breach radiated the heebie-jeebies and you know it.”

  Tabitha cut me off. “That is not up for review.” She faced the others, disregarding me like a child. “We only need to discuss the khalkotauroi. Starting with Darby.”

  Darby stiffened so rigidly, I worried her back would snap as she gave her recollection of events. She described chasing after the bull, how it didn’t exhibit any patterns in its behavior, charging about aimlessly, sometimes starting new blazes, sometimes not. Azar and Tabitha followed up with similar stories. Together, the three had tried multiple strategies to hem in the vaettur for a final one-two punch of fire suppression and water banishment. But the khalkotauroi’s movements were so erratic, they couldn’t predict where it might go next, sometimes attacking them, sometimes avoiding them, but never letting anyone get close enough to stop it.

  While Tabitha, Guntram, and Azar accepted these behaviors as facts, I had a hard time wrapping my mind around it. Vaetturs lived to hunt. The khalkotauroi should have been stalking animals or dryants. Starting fires ran counterintuitive to that objective, causing most living creatures to flee in the opposite direction.

  I asked, “You’re saying our bull went on a completely directionless arson spree?”

  Azar folded her hands neatly in her lap. “So it would seem.”

  I pressed on. “And what about when I found it? The thing just sat there staring off into nothing, almost catatonic. What’s up with that?”

  Although Darby nodded in agreement, the three older shepherds didn’t appear worried about the vaettur’s odd behavior. Guntram confirmed as much when he whispered, “Let it go, Ina.”

  I slouched backward, angry, not caring if the others noticed. It was clear I wouldn’t get any answers from the so-called wise elders of this group. Instead, I pursed my lips as Guntram retold his perspective of events, listing all the species we’d helped during our evacuation.

  I’d almost closed my ears to the entire charade when Tabitha asked Guntram, “So, you did not run into anyone in the forest during evacuation?”

  My heart dropped as Guntram replied, “We did.”

  In the chaos of fighting the bull, I’d completely forgotten about Vincent. Knowing how much Guntram hated Vincent for his role in my recent misadventures, I expected him to rake the game warden over the coals. I had no idea how much the other shepherds knew about Vincent and my relationship, but I really did not want it coming to light here, in front of a self-righteous Tabitha.

  Guntram continued. “We ran into a forest service ranger attempting to save a nest of northern spotted owls. We made sure he carried the family out of the fire’s range, with Sova monitoring him for us.”

  I had to hold my jaw tight to keep it from dropping open. That was the most benign way of putting our encounter with Vincent. Not only had we had a full conversation with Vincent, Guntram had attacked him. Yet, my augur revealed none of thi
s.

  Tabitha noticed my fidgeting and addressed me. “Is that how you remember it?”

  I nodded curtly, not trusting my voice.

  Her gaze ripped through me a few more seconds before she focused back on Guntram. “And you swear that you did not know this man?”

  Guntram appeared offended at the question, his beard bristling. “I’d never seen him before today,” he said truthfully. Only his raven kidama had met Vincent.

  “And you ran into no one else that you knew?”

  “Of course not.” Guntram’s voice rose in a way that I rarely saw in front of anyone but me. “Do you think I would withhold such information given what’s happening on Mt. Hood?”

  Azar piped in. “No,” she said gently. Her eyes pierced Tabitha’s. “No, we do not.”

  Tabitha didn’t exactly seem contrite at this double defense, but she did back away. “It’s a question worth asking.”

  Azar seemed eager to defuse tension. She turned to me and asked, “Do you have anything else to add, Ina?”

  “Besides the fact that none of this makes a lick of sense?” I countered. “Nope. I’m good.”

  “Then I adjourn the general debrief,” Tabitha declared. “Let us move onto strategy planning. Those of a lower rank,” she gestured toward me, “should leave.”

  “Perfect.” I jumped to my feet. “I’m happy to ditch all this redacted red tape anyway.”

  I stole a quick glance at Guntram, who was too lost in his own thoughts to chastise me. I was too angry to wonder what that could have meant. I nudged past Darby, who stood ramrod at attention for a flurry of orders from Tabitha, and stalked out of the lodge.

  CHAPTER 8

  I SHOULD HAVE gone for a soak in the hot spring. Heaven knows I felt cranky enough that I needed to soak away my bitterness. But when I’m mad, I don’t always make the most rational choices. Instead of recharging for whatever lay ahead, I decided to stick it to all the mightier-than-thou shepherds back at the lodge and take a walk off the homestead.

  Technically, it’s not against the rules to wander off by myself, although Guntram heavily frowns upon it. I figured I’d be ok picking up more batteries since Sipho had depleted my supply. So I located all of Guntram’s resting ravens (except Fechin, who seemed mysteriously absent), snuck past them, and jumped into the nearest wisp channel.

  This brought me close to Carol and Dennis’s highway rest stop, a rundown convenience store and fueling station for the handful of rednecks that lived this far in the Cascades. I came here often under the guise of being a lecture-ditching college student. Occasionally, a hapless tourist stops by to do something adventurous like use the restroom, and I get some bonus entertainment with my purchase.

  Today was one of those lucky days. I smirked at the electric hybrid sedan in the dirt parking lot, looking as out of place as a diamond ring inside an arcade claw machine.

  I stepped into the shop. Dennis stood behind the cash register, arms folded on top of overalls and a sagging beer belly. Opposite him slouched a 30-something hipster with a flannel shirt, mirrored sunglasses, and a leather phone holster. A fluorescent light flickered over a bag of processed goodies between them.

  The hipster rubbed one manicured finger on his temple. “How can you not know what kombucha is?”

  Dennis answered in a low voice that would rather be smoking a cheap cigarette. “I ain’t that kind of business,” he said with a hint of disgust.

  The hipster snorted in superiority. “Do you even carry anything locally sourced?”

  “If by locally sourced, you mean Chuck Johnson down the road restocking the coolers a couple times a month, then the whole place is your oyster, kid.”

  The hipster sighed in superiority. “Clearly, we’re not even on the same level here.” He stepped toward the exit but found me lingering in the doorway. He must have mistaken my casual attire as a sign of a kindred spirit because he said to me, “I’d turn around if I were you. I doubt this servant to corporate America even knows what organic means.”

  I slapped on a bright smile. “You mean like potato chips? They grow in the ground, right?”

  The hipster finally noticed the mud and soot stains on my body. He sniffed, wrinkling his nose as if catching a whiff of something funky.

  I decided not to let this chance go to waste. “I took Chem 101. Anything with carbon atoms counts as organic, right?”

  His camaraderie faded to mumbles of derision as he slid past me out the door.

  Dennis’s scratchy chuckles added a strange harmonic vibe to the rusty chimes on the glass door. “Good one, Ina.”

  The owners knew me as the college kid from Eugene who played a lot of hooky in order to hike around the mountains. They found me strange but tolerable, especially since I took a more practical approach to life than a lot of crunchy people from ‘the big city.’

  I gave Dennis a half bow on my way to the dustiest shelf in the far back, where all the non-perishables were stored. “Glad to be of service.”

  I’d made it halfway past the ancient cans of soup when Dennis said, “If you’re looking for batteries, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  I flipped around, only the top of Dennis’s thinning white hair visible behind the metal shelves. “Are you out?”

  “Haven’t bought more since the last time you came in.”

  I dragged myself back to the counter, stifling a groan. Now I’d have to go out of my way to buy more. “Dennis, you’re killing me here.”

  Dennis shrugged. “You’re the one who keeps buying us out of stock. The suppliers can’t keep up. What’re you using ’em for, anyway?”

  I said the first thing that came to mind, not knowing if they used AA batteries or not. “Vaping.”

  Dennis made a face. “I heard that stuff will kill you.”

  I squelched the urge to give him a lecture on his own long-term nicotine use. “Well, I guess I’m off to the next place then. If you want to stay in business, you need to cater to your loyal customers.”

  Dennis dismissed me with a wave. “If I listened to all you youngsters, this place would be filled with kumbuttya already. And I may be set in my ways, but I ain’t never sold porn here, and I never will.”

  * * *

  I considered returning to the homestead. I had the lightning charm, so it wasn’t like I had absolutely no lightning pith. But one-upping a hipster hadn’t blown off enough steam, so I opted to take a trip into the very place Dennis scorned.

  The greater Eugene area is quite a bit larger than the little rural towns surrounding it. Much smaller than the state’s larger Portland metro area, Eugene still boasts a major public university, two malls, and tons of box retailers, making it an ideal place to buy cheap batteries. I opted to take the fewest wisp channels into town and ended up not far from local landmark Spencer’s Butte, an isolated knoll with a rocky top with a popular hiking trail snaking off it. I headed north on the longer path leading back into town, aiming for a grocery store inside a strip mall nestled within the city’s southern hills.

  I meant to grab batteries and a fresh snack to go that, unlike at Dennis’s, hadn’t been sitting on a shelf since before I was born, but that all changed when I noticed a Scottish-themed brew pub next door to the supermarket. A sign boasted a happy hour in full swing and some cheap eats. I bought my batteries quickly and decided to surrender my appetite to the whim of the bar.

  Despite its distance from the university, the pub crawled with a decent sized college crowd. I discovered why when I noticed a digital clock stating it was Friday evening. The dawn of party time. Bantering co-eds in sports apparel had taken up all the pool tables. A mob three-people thick lined the counter as the bartenders rushed to fill orders. Most of the tables already had people huddled around them or a backpack to mark their territory. All around us, large LED TVs flashed snippets of various basketball game highlights.

  I didn’t have an ID for alcohol, but given the average patron age, hoped I could order a hamburger without question.
I wedged myself up to the bar and waited impatiently as hordes of rude millennials cut in front of me anyway.

  I was beginning to wonder if I should go back to the homestead when I spotted familiar ebony hair over a maroon athletic T-shirt. Vincent Garcia, who should have been miles away in Florence, stood from a table near the door with a smiling brunette in a trendy leather jacket. Her bright eyes sparkled with something she had told Vincent. He leaned forward to speak closer to her soft face. Maybe they couldn’t hear each other over the noise of the pub, but they seemed cozy too. He kept his hand at the small of her back as he led her outside into the parking lot.

  A flood of emotions raked throughout my body. What was Vincent doing here in Eugene? Who was the chick? I replayed the scene in Vincent’s apartment only the day before. Had I been a complete and utter idiot letting Vincent get that close to me?

  I pushed a few protesting pool players out of the way in my haste to follow, but even so, the sheer number of people made it difficult to navigate. By the time I got outside, Vincent’s silver Subaru had turned onto the street, too far away for me to catch. But I caught a glimpse of the brunette leaning over and pecking Vincent on the cheek. The last I saw of them, her fingers lingered on his face.

  I’m not sure how long I stood there, gaping after them. I clenched and unclenched my right hand to prevent fire pith from exploding onto the sidewalk. I wanted to lob a steady stream straight at Vincent’s head.

  A tattered homeless man lounging in front of a nearby liquor store yelled me out of my stupor. “Missy! You spare me some change?”