Power Mage

by Hondo Jinx

  “Five of your men were killed,” Senior said, “and you have no idea what happened?”

  Junior wished he’d left his shades on. If he put them back on now, however, his father would notice. “Only three of those guys worked for me. The other two—”

  “A pair of cut-rate freelancers out of Boca Raton,” Senior interrupted. Grabbing another fish by the tail, he slid his thin blade up its body, peeling flesh from bone. “I know that much already and will know much more soon, I assure you. Because, my ambitious son, that is your job when you run the big show: knowing everything.”

  Junior nodded. Better to keep his mouth shut at this point, see where his father went with things. The man’s icy calm, intense stare, and reputation for turning people into chum had a way of unnerving those he questioned.

  “Now, humor me son, and give me your best guess. What were Gordo and the others doing with these black market mercenaries? Or do I have to have Gabriella ransack your mind?”

  Junior raised one eyebrow and tried to look cool, glancing between his father and the pale woman standing several feet beyond the cleaning station. She was likely trying to avoid getting fish guts on her classy charcoal business suit. Gabriella was easy enough on the eyes in a corporate kind of way, but truth be told, she scared the shit out of Junior. The absolute last thing he needed was a Bender peering through his skull and relaying his thoughts to his father.

  Because Junior did know what had happened to his men, including the two mercs from Boca. But if his father knew that, Senior would have his head. Junior didn’t think his father would literally kill him for shaking down psi mages on the side, but Junior would lose any chance of ever succeeding his father as capo.

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be totally un-fucking-acceptable.

  Junior had worked too hard and hustled for too long to see it all blow up in his face now.

  If Gabriella did hack his brain, she wouldn’t get shit. Junior had paid plenty to shield his mind from Seekers and Telepaths. But the discovery of those shields would trigger Senior’s suspicious nature and likely drive the man to have Uno and Dos conduct an old-school, non-psi interrogation.

  And that would not do, because Junior had grown attached to his fingers, thank you very much.

  So Junior did his best to look cool, saying, “If you don’t believe me, go ahead and tell her to take a peek, but if you can’t trust your own son, how does that look?”

  “The day I need your advice on running this organization,” Senior said, hurling another rat’s nest of bloody intestines into the water, “cut me up and feed me to the tarpons.”

  Gladly, Junior thought. As was his habit, he analyzed the situation, imagining the best way to kill everyone. He would hit Uno with a psionic blast, then go for his Glock, trying to get the drop on Dos. He would have to backpedal as he fired in case his father came at him with that skinny-bladed filet knife. It was easy to forget that Senior had started as an enforcer on the streets of Miami before climbing the ranks of the psi mafia.

  Gabriella cleared her throat and started squirming, straightening her skirt and blouse with a glazed look in her big eyes. Then her expression cleared, and she said, “There has been an incident.”

  Junior listened as the woman explained that his closest friend, Marco, had just been shot to death.

  Shit. That was inconvenient. It had taken a long time to recruit Marco and build the big Carnal’s trust. Replacing him would be a major pain in the ass.

  Junior had to find Nina. Had to find her and kill her before his father found out that she was involved.

  “Who killed Marco?” Senior said, his voice burning low and dangerous.

  Gabriella’s eyes went out of focus again. For a time, they stood there waiting for her to respond. Senior watched with his mouth all puckered up like a bullet wound. Uno and Dos lazed there, looking bored.

  Junior was tense, worried that she’ll mention Nina. Reflexively, he drew up a bundle of a force.

  “Marco was driving past on his motorcycle,” Gabriella said, narrating the information was apparently delivered to her via the thoughts of someone in the know. “The other man was walking on the sidewalk.”

  Man, Junior thought, and his grip on the automatic relaxed.

  “They recognized each other,” Gabriella continued. “Both opened fire.”

  “I didn’t ask for a play-by-play,” Senior said. “Who was he?”

  Gabriella shook her head. “We don’t know.”

  Senior snarled with frustration. “Get Bostic. Tell him I need to know—”

  “This is all coming from Mr. Bostic, sir. Whoever killed Marco is cloaked.”

  “And I pay Bostic extravagantly to unravel cloaks.”

  The pretty Bender frowned. “My apologies, Mr. Dutchman. Apparently, the cloak is very strong. It’s the work of a powerful Seeker. Mr. Bostic can only see the man’s basic shape. He is tall and lean. And very fast.”

  “Faster than Marco?” Junior said incredulously.

  Gabriella shook her head. “No. But very fast all the same. Decisive. Clearly comfortable with violence and more than competent with firearms. Marco had the upper hand, but the man killed him with a psionic blast. An extremely powerful psionic blast.”

  “A powerful telekinetic who’s good with guns and heavily cloaked?” Junior said, turning to his father, who was nothing if not paranoid. “Sounds like a professional.”

  Senior looked thoughtful for a second, his dangerous eyes narrowing slightly. Then he nodded. “Perhaps the psi cartel is making its move.”

  Yes, Junior thought with relief. His father’s paranoia had taken the bait. Time to set the hook, even if it meant looking stupid. “They wouldn’t dare move on us.”

  Senior turned to him with a look of contempt bordering on disgust. “Sometimes, it is difficult to believe that you are my son. Of course they would dare to move on us. Gabriella, tell Bostic to focus his surveillance on the psi cartel. If he feels anything—anything—I want to know. Everyone else, we are on high alert.”

  “Mr. Bostic says he will try, sir,” Gabriella said. “But the Latticework is still buzzing with the aftershocks of today’s big event, so surveillance at this range might prove difficult.”

  The Latticework is still buzzing, Junior thought with another shade of relief. Apparently, Seekers around the globe were convinced that a monumental power shift was on the horizon. Some of the kooks even thought a new power mage had emerged. Whatever the shift was, most agreed that it was happening here, in the Keys.

  A new thought occurred to him as his fingertip traced the trigger guard of the snubnose .38 in his pocket. Was the big power shift rocking the Latticework foreshadowing an opportunity for Junior? Was it time to make his move?

  “Talk to Bostic and find a way to surveil, Gabriella,” Senior said, “or you both can find yourself a new employer.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gabriella said, looking nervous. She didn’t need precognitive powers to know what find yourself a new employer meant in Senior’s world.

  As if on cue, one of the big tarpons splashed loudly, wanting more scraps.

  “Mr. Bostic senses a big storm approaching,” Gabriella said with a hallowed voice.

  Junior wondered if she was telling the truth or just trying to distract Senior.

  “A big storm with major ramifications to this organization,” Gabriella continued. “And you, Junior, will be at the center of it.”

  “Good,” Junior said, faking a smile. “I’m ready to step up.”

  “Ready to step up,” Senior said with a dubious tone. “What was Marco doing?”

  Junior did his best to look confused. “How the hell should I know? I’m not a Seeker.”

  “But he was your friend,” Senior said. “Your constant companion.”

  Junior shrugged. “He’d been acting a little odd lately.”

  “Odd how?” Senior said.

  Careful now, Junior thought. “I don’t know. Just weird. Busy, I guess. Like he alw
ays had someplace to go lately.”

  “Such as…”

  Junior shrugged again. “How am I supposed to know?”

  Senior rapped his curved blade sharply against the bloody counter. “It is your business to know.”

  “All right,” Junior said. “I’ll hit the street.”

  “Do that,” Senior said. “Don Valdez will be in touch soon about this big psychic event and the two gunfights. I need answers. And if the don doesn’t like those answers, he will kill and replace all of us by the morning tide.”

  As Junior walked away, he couldn’t help but grin. His father was uncharacteristically rattled, paranoid about the psi cartel and feeling pressure from Don Valdez.

  This could be it. This could be his moment of ascension.

  Then he noticed a dime-sized spot of fish blood on the cuff of his new shirt. “Fuck.”

  Twenty minutes later, Junior was pacing just inside the door of Rick’s apartment. He generally avoided the place, which was stacked floor to ceiling in machines. And not just computers and phones, like your garden variety Gearhead. Rick had all types of shit piled up in there. Microwaves, televisions, printers, everything. In front of his couch, where a sane person might have a coffee table, Rick had a fucking car engine.

  You’d think a guy who worked with machines would be able to understand something as nuts-and-bolts simple as life and death, but old Rick was having a hard time wrapping his head around the subject.

  “Dead?” he asked again. “Marco?”

  “Yeah,” Junior said, “dead. Now come on. This place makes me feel like I’m covered in ants.”

  Rick blinked, his eyes passing over the stacked machines as if seeing them for the first time. “I can’t believe it. Marco.”

  “Enough,” Junior said. “He’s fucking dead, okay? And unless you want to join him, get off the couch and come with me now.”

  That got Rick moving. The kid always had been malleable. Which made no sense. Shit, if Junior could hack people’s phones and computers with his mind or make their engine seize up while they were flying down the highway, he wouldn’t take shit off anybody.

  But Rick was a pussy. And once a pussy, always a pussy, no matter how much power a guy like Rick gained.

  They crossed town to the crime scene. The cops had the place roped off pretty good, so they couldn’t get close, but that was okay. Rick had line of sight. That’s all that mattered.

  The skinny little technopath stared up at the security camera mounted across from where the detectives were doing their forensic dog and pony show. Rick’s eyelids blinked rapidly. Junior could all but hear shutter clicks.

  “Got it,” Rick said with a smile.

  “And?”

  “Give me a second to play it back.” Rick held out his phone, and the two of them watched together as the hacked security cam footage played back the fight. “Oh, Marco. Man, I feel like I’m going to puke.”

  The puny technopath staggered to the sidewalk’s edge and gagged. Junior yanked Rick’s phone from his hands and did his best to ignore him while playing back the footage.

  It made no sense. The mystery man was all static.

  “Dude, stop whining,” Junior said. “What’s wrong with the footage? How come we can’t see the other guy?”

  Rick shook his head. “Some kind of powerful cloak.”

  Junior cursed. Gabriella had said the cloak was powerful. Strong enough, it appeared, to block not only Seekers but also obscure his identity on film. “All right. Burn it.”

  Rick nodded. A second later, the security camera popped, sending a spray of sparks raining down from where it was mounted atop the brick building.

  Crucial, that. It wouldn’t do, letting the fuggle cops see too much.

  Junior did a slow 360, then nodded to the security cam in front of the bodega across the street. “Anything?”

  Rick studied the camera for half a minute and shook his head.

  “Come on,” Junior said. “We’ll keep checking every exit until we find this asshole.”

  Rick nodded. With his long skinny neck and big eyes, he looked like a chicken trying to lay an egg. “And then what?”

  “You know what.” Today had really kicked Junior in the nuts. He’d lost four men. Six counting the triggermen from Boca. But he wasn’t nearly as stupid as he led his father to believe. He still had his four best soldiers, and they were geared up, waiting for the call.

  “There he is,” Rick said, staring at a streaming cam outside a bar facing the exit of an adjacent alleyway. “He went west.”

  “All right,” Junior said, clapping his small friend on the shoulder. “Burn it and keep checking cameras. Hunting season on assholes is officially open.”

  19

  Brawley reunited with Nina just as she emerged from the community center, and they hustled together across town.

  Nina was so upset about her dad, her brother, and losing her shit with Beverly that they were halfway back to the RV before Brawley even had a chance to mention that he’d killed a Carnal.

  That sent Nina into a tailspin of fresh anxiety.

  The guy’s name was Marco, she explained. He was Junior Dutchman’s best friend.

  Then, as they were hiking along North Roosevelt, Nina said, “If Junior hurts my dad, I’ll kill him.”

  Brawley gave her shoulder a squeeze. “And I’ll help you.”

  He hoped her dad was okay and hoped she would be able to patch things up with her brother, but right now, his primary worry was keeping his women safe and getting the fuck out of Dodge before it was too late.

  The fight with Marco would bring serious heat.

  And right now, he just wanted to get on up the road and find Nightshade Lane, wherever the hell that was. This Seeker curiosity thing sure was a bitch and a half.

  He wished Sage was with them. Apparently, her apartment wasn’t far from Publix. Maybe she would be waiting for them at the RV.

  Once they were together, they would jet.

  But when they reached the RV, Sage was nowhere to be seen.

  Brawley opened the fridge and grabbed them both a beer.

  After blasting Marco, he had a headache and was once more dying of thirst, though he was in much better shape than he had been following the Mallory Square debacle. After knocking back a beer, he felt even better.

  Nina paced back and forth, sipping her beer and muttering about how they were screwed. “And then someone’s going to send fucking Remi after us, I just know it.”

  Brawley reloaded his XDS, made sure the other firearms were ready to go, and popped another beer.

  Nina stopped pacing abruptly and said, “Dad?”

  Brawley whipped around but saw they were alone.

  Nina’s sweet features twisted with concern. “Dad, I can feel you in my brain. Are you okay?”

  Then Brawley understood. Nina’s missing father was a telepath. He was reaching out to her now. Brawley braced himself, waiting for her dad’s captors’ ultimatum.

  Nina relaxed visibly. “I was worried the psi mafia had you. Wait… what?” Her eyes narrowed. “Who are you with, Dad? And no, I’m not telling you where I am.”

  Nina frowned, hurried past Brawley into the kitchen, and started rooting through the pantry.

  “No, Dad, you listen to me. Jamaal’s gotten inside your head. You believe that shit because he made you believe it. No. I’m not telling you where I am. Listen to me, you have to get away from him as fast you can, no matter what he’s saying.”

  She pulled out the aluminum foil and pulled off a large sheet, which she started forming into a bowl. “Nope. Not going to tell you, Dad. Stay out of my head. Jamaal is a liar. No. That’s my final answer. I love you, Dad, but I have to go. This is me hanging up.”

  And she slammed the silver bowl down on her head like a beanie cap.

  “The Order has my dad. This old ass cop, Jamaal. He’s a Seeker. Busted me twice. I know he’s planting false notions in Dad’s head, making him think that figuring out
where I am is the only way to save me from certain death.” She snarled with frustration. “Jamaal’s like a Southern sheriff and his pack of bloodhounds all rolled into one. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Brawley pointed to the hat. “That’s how you block a telepath?”

  Nina blushed and adjusted the shiny cap. “Yup. Turns out all those conspiracy theorists weren’t so crazy after all. Aluminum foil blocks mind mages. Up the road, we can stop in Marathon. I know a semi-shady telepath up there who would put a shield on me for a few thousand dollars.”

  “All right,” Brawley said, and couldn’t help but grin. “You going to wear the hat until then?”

  “Of course I’m going to wear the hat,” she said, pulling it down more tightly as she paced away. “Go ahead and crack your jokes. At least my name isn’t Brawley.”

  “Good comeback,” he said. “It’s even funnier in the hat.”

  She slapped her ass. “Bite me, cowboy.”

  Going to a window, she pulled aside the curtain and stood on tiptoes, looking out into the parking lot.

  He wished she would spot Sage coming this way.

  Instead, Nina gave him a lopsided grin. “Happy day-versary.”

  “Huh?”

  “The sun is setting. We’ve officially known each other for twenty-four hours.” Beyond her, through the tiny space where she’d pulled the curtain aside, he could see the orange light of sunset.

  “That was one hell of a day,” he said.

  “You can say that again,” she said, coming away from the window. “Yesterday, I was a delivery girl for a Chinese restaurant, doing my best to stay out of trouble. Now I’m unemployed, my dad is helping the Order to find me, my brother thinks I’m crazy, his mom called my parole officer, and the psi mafia wants to kill me. Oh, and I’m eternally bound to a Seeker and to a power mage who has wasted half a dozen people today.” She looked down at the sweats and combat boots. “Meanwhile, I’m wearing the ugliest disguise in the world and sweating like a whore in church.”

  She unzipped the turquoise hoodie and let it drop to the floor. She wore no t-shirt underneath. Just a red bra. And once again, her perfect body glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration.