Gun Mage 4: Surviving a Post Apocalyptic Magic Earth

by Logan Jacobs

  Anselm stormed away, fast enough to set his coat swirling behind him. The other guests in the tea room watched his departure with mild interest, then turned back to their own conversations once the mage was out of sight.

  Only then did I gently lower the hammer forward on my Colt.

  “What--” Freya started to ask.

  “Well, it sure was nice meeting Anselm,” I interrupted as I stood up. “Thanks for inviting him over, Viv. But I should probably go check on Barnaby.”

  “Oh, yes, and I need to… pack,” Sorcha added.

  The Irishwoman looked pale, and I saw her take a deep breath to try to steady herself. Darwin and Freya both nodded and leapt to their feet as well, and as politely as we could, we said goodbye to Viv and retreated to the lobby.

  “I think we can all fit in my room,” I suggested. “And at least Anselm won’t find us there.”

  The other three nodded, and we quickly trotted up the stairs to the second floor. I took the lead through the maze of hallways to my room, a trip we made without conversation.

  Barnaby was up and alert when I opened the door, and studied our group as we moved inside. The silver dog seemed to sense that something was off, and he sniffed at each of us as we stepped inside. I tried to give him a reassuring pat, but the dog ignored me and continued to study us even as we all tried to find a place to sit.

  The women both sat on the bed with their backs against the headboard while Darwin took the chair that went with the desk. I sat on the floor near the foot of the bed with the Weimaraner. There was a long silence once we’d all found our spots while everyone tried to sort out what had happened.

  “That bastard tried to use his magic on us again, didn’t he?” Darwin finally huffed.

  “He did,” Sorcha said quietly. “And unfortunately, he’s still using reaper seed. Not as much as he did for the rally, but more than enough to hold everyone at the table in his spell. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t gone insane yet from all the seed he must be using.”

  “Maybe he has, and no one’s noticed it yet,” I suggested.

  “Damn it,” Freya replied. “He wanted us to… stop the train?”

  “So the mutants could attack it,” I added. “But Sorcha was able to reach me before I saw anything else.”

  “But are we still under his control?” Darwin asked. “Will one of us stop the train like he told us to even if we don’t want to?”

  “I don’t think so,” Sorcha sighed, “but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Well, shit,” I muttered. “I should have shot him anyway. We could have left the city while the locals were still trying to figure out what happened.”

  “Anselm knows about the guns?” Darwin snapped.

  “The revolver,” I admitted. “I threatened to shoot him if he didn’t release everyone and leave the inn. He didn’t believe I had a gun until he heard me pull the hammer back.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Freya asked. “That he knows about the gun, I mean.”

  “I’m not sure,” I mused. “I guess it depends on whether he can still control us.”

  “Though I have to add that I don’t think he’ll turn us in,” the ex-trooper remarked. “I think it’s safe to say that the businessmen probably control the local police, and whatever Anselm might tell them will get passed along to them. Riley was pretty excited to find out about the guns, so if Anselm forces his hand and threatens to tell the Magestierum, I imagine Riley and his buddies will find a way to deal with the mage once and for all. The real question is whether the guy messed with our minds enough that we’ll stop the train anyway.”

  There was another long silence as we contemplated the possibility that one or more of us had just been turned into one of Anselm’s saboteurs.

  “Should we still get on the train?” Freya finally asked.

  “I think so,” I replied. “I mean, Riley is counting on us to help protect the train so I’d hate to back out.”

  “I’m sure he could hire other guards,” Sorcha noted.

  “Not with guns,” I added. “And that’s what he really wants.”

  “What do you think, gramps?” the rabbit woman asked.

  “I think we should stick with the plan,” Darwin sighed. “At this point, I’m too tired to come up with another one. And besides, even if we bow out of the ride, Anselm will just try this trick on someone else. At least if we’re there, we’ll know what to watch out for.”

  “You really do like the idea of riding on the train,” I said in surprise as I studied the older man.

  “I’m just an old fart reliving his youth,” the ex-trooper chuckled. “But yeah, part of me is excited at the idea of riding on a train one more time. And I think it would be great if they could get a real rail line running again, but I don’t know if that’s possible. They can’t keep the Magesterium away forever, and the longer this goes on, the worse the punishment from the mages will be.”

  “But if there are enough people who support it--” Freya insisted.

  “The mages are all about protecting their power,” Darwin cut in. “And if history has taught us anything it’s that people will do anything to hang onto the power they have.”

  “I guess that means we won’t be accepting the employment offer,” I snickered.

  Darwin didn’t say anything, so I turned to look at him. He had his thoughtful gaze back on, and I could guess why. The ex-trooper had spent a lifetime sticking up for the underdog, and there wasn’t a bigger underdog in the upcoming battle with the Magesterium than the railroad company. The fact that so many people in Scranton seemed willing to bring back the old technologies besides the train didn’t hurt, either.

  “Of course not,” Freya finally replied when no one else said anything. “We have to stick together so we can all see this mysterious island.”

  “Right, the island,” the mutant’s grandfather agreed.

  “I think our biggest concern right now should be the possibility that he will use his magic on someone else,” the Irish mage murmured. “We’ll have to watch the other people on board as well as the surrounding area.”

  “I think he had a place in mind where the train should stop,” Freya mused. “Do you think he’s working with the mutants?”

  “At this point, nothing would surprise me,” I replied. “Though it may be that he’ll just have regular people there who will try to kill everyone on board and make it look like a mutant attack.”

  “He could try to change his plan,” Darwin added. “Now that Sorcha disrupted his magic. He might try to sabotage the train before it leaves the station.”

  “He might,” I conceded, “but then it’s hard to pass it off as a mutant attack and there will be people nearby who can investigate and say it was sabotage.”

  “So are we still going?” the rabbit woman asked after a few more minutes of silence.

  “Yes,” I finally said when no one else spoke up. “If for no other reason than to see Anselm’s plans fail.”

  “In that case, I’m going back to that store we passed this morning and pick up some arrows,” Freya declared. “I know we have the guns, but I’d like to have some backup weapons as well. Gramps, will you come with me?”

  “Sure,” the ex-trooper replied. “Maybe we can mosey by the station and see if we spot anything going on.”

  “Or Anselm talking to some of the guards,” I added.

  The ex-trooper nodded, and he and his granddaughter stood up. I pulled myself to my feet and held the door open for them as they stepped into the hallway. I listened to their voices until the pair reached the main hallway, then I closed the door and turned back to face the bed. Sorcha had moved to the edge of the bed where she could watch the snow outside the window. She looked tired, from the squint of her eyes to the sag of her shoulders.

  “That Brother Anselm took a lot out of you,” I observed as I sat down next to her.

  “He did,” she sighed, “but I was just thinking about how powerful he must be even without
the seed and thinking what a great help he could be in fighting the Magesterium.”

  “Are you going to try and recruit him to the cause?” I chuckled, though I wasn’t sure how serious she was.

  “Maybe if he wasn’t using so much seed,” the Irishwoman responded. “But he must have a serious addiction if he’s using that much and that level of addiction makes a person unreliable.”

  “He must know that it’s going to kill him,” I mused. “I wonder why he keeps taking it.”

  “It’s almost impossible to stop once you’re at those levels,” she sighed. “I’ve heard it described as a need that you can never fill. Most mages aren’t willing to chance it.”

  “Still, someone thought he was stable enough to pull off this friend of the Magesterium routine he’s using with the anti-train crowd,” I pointed out.

  “They did,” Sorcha murmured. “Though I wonder if they’re the ones who are feeding his addiction. You know, something like ‘we’ll give you more seed if you convince the crowd to riot.’”

  “Does it make any difference?” I asked. “Would you recruit him if he was being used that way?”

  “No, probably not,” she admitted. “Not at that level of use.”

  Barnaby joined us then, plopping onto the floor between our feet and staring up at us with eyes that begged for pats and scratches. We caved in and spent several minutes lavishing attention on the Weimaraner.

  “I thought you were taking him for another walk,” Sorcha teased when she’d finally had enough of the dog drool.

  “I could,” I agreed. “Though I don’t think he really wants to go out right now.”

  “And how do you know that?” Sorcha laughed.

  “Don’t worry, he can let you know when he needs to go out,” I chuckled.

  The Irishwoman laughed, and it was good to see the sparkle back in her emerald eyes.

  “You know, you saved me again,” I pointed out. “I would have been fighting off Charles and Freya to pull that brake if you hadn’t reached me.”

  “Haven’t you heard?” she said coyly. “Even heroes need a little help now and then.”

  “Oh, now I’m a hero. I thought I was just a cowboy,” I mused.

  “A poet cowboy, if I remember correctly,” she replied primly.

  I laughed and pulled her closer.

  “Truly, you do look like you’re feeling better,” I whispered.

  “I just need some recovery time, but I’ll be fine by the time we leave tomorrow,” she acknowledged.

  “So what do you need for this recovery time?” I asked as my hand moved to her waist.

  “Well, rest is always good,” she said. “Of course, I sleep better if I’ve had some exercise. Just feeling tired from using my magic usually means I have a hard time falling asleep. And when I do fall asleep, I move around a lot and wake up for no reason.”

  “Exercise,” I said sagely. “I think we could help with that. Barnaby is all about exercise.”

  “Don’t be an ass,” Sorcha huffed, though she grinned as she said it.

  Barnaby looked at the two of us, and when it was clear that neither of us was going to pay him any more attention, the Weimaraner shook himself and moved back to a spot directly under the window.

  “We could do our exercises here,” I murmured as I ran a line of kisses along her jaw.

  “I like that better than trudging through the snow,” she whispered.

  “Sadly, my tub isn’t as large as yours,” I added.

  “I guess we’ll just have to stay in bed,” she laughed as she pushed me back a few inches.

  She kissed me on my lips for a long minute, then stood up and started to slowly undress. This was far and away my favorite show, and I couldn’t help but smile in anticipation as I remembered what laid beneath the layers of clothing. When she was completely bare, I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her tightly against me. She felt so right in my arms and the taste of her skin was one of the most delicious things I’d ever had.

  “I’m glad you liked the performance, but you are expected to reciprocate,” she declared when she managed to break free from a kiss.

  “Uh-huh,” I mumbled as I tried to find her lips again.

  “And we can’t move on to the highlights until you do,” she reminded me.

  That was all the encouragement I needed. While Sorcha pulled down the cover and draped herself across the sheets, I started to tug at my clothing. I was about to toss my jacket onto the chair when I remembered the Colt revolver in the pocket, so I carefully draped the jacket over the back of the chair then resumed my own version of the show.

  “I’d forgotten about the gun,” Sorcha murmured when I turned toward her.

  “I’m glad I had it,” I admitted. “I don’t know that there was any other way to get him to leave.”

  “You could have punched him,” the Irishwoman said with a smile.

  “And cause a scene in the tea room?” I said in mock horror. “I don’t think Viv would ever forgive me, and that probably means Darwin wouldn’t, either.”

  Sorcha laughed as I landed next to her in the bed, then pulled her toward me. I could already feel her heat, and she moaned as I ran my tongue along her erect nipples.

  “You know me too well,” she sighed as she arched back to give me more access.

  Her own hands moved toward my shaft, and after several minutes of teasing, I was ready to plunge inside. I could tell she was already hot and moist, and I could feel the tension along her spine. With a growl, I pounded into her, slowly at first, and then I started to move faster as her groans became longer and deeper.

  “So goooood,” she moaned as she dug her nails into my back.

  The tension that vibrated along our link was almost unbearable, and I felt like I was about to explode, but Sorcha was still riding her own wave of pleasure, and I let her pull me along with her. As she got close to her climax, I held her on my rod until I felt her whole body start to shake in anticipation. With one last thrust, I plowed deep inside her and finally released. Her ecstasy poured through our link and I stayed hard and deep longer than I ever had just so I could wrap myself in the pleasure she felt from my warm seed filling her womb.

  When neither of us could keep it up any longer, I slowly eased her back onto the bed and nearly collapsed on top of her. We were both sucking in ragged gulps of air and neither of us could speak for several minutes.

  “Whenever I think it can’t possibly get any better, you prove me wrong,” she chuckled when she had her breathing under control.

  “I could say the same about you,” I snickered. “The pleasure you feel is… amazing.”

  “You’re amazing,” she replied as she ran her fingers through my hair. “I’m so glad you were willing to take a chance with me. I’ve never known anyone who could do what you do for me.”

  “I’m happy to oblige,” I remarked as I let my fingers start to explore her torso.

  “You know, we don’t have to leave the room,” she purred. “Viv says they have something called room service.”

  “Room service?” I pondered. “What’s that?”

  “You can order meals from the kitchen, and they’ll bring it to your room.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “But how do we place the order?”

  “There’s supposed to be a bellpull and a printed copy of the menu in every room,” she explained. “You circle what you want on the menu, leave it on the door, then ring the bell. Someone will come up and retrieve the order, and when it’s ready, they’ll bring the food to the room.”

  “How do we know when it’s ready?”

  “They’ll knock,” she replied. “We can either answer the knock, or they’ll leave it outside the door and we can retrieve it when we’re ready.”

  “It does sound convenient,” I agreed. “And it would be nice to spend the rest of the day in bed with you.”

  Barnaby chose that moment to bark, obviously not at all happy with the idea of spending the whole day cooped up in the
room with us. Sorcha laughed as I cast a warning glare at the dog, but I was apparently outvoted.

  “One more round,” Sorcha suggested, “and then you can take Barnaby for another walk.”

  “You’ll be here when we get back?” I pressed.

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving,” she agreed.

  We spent the rest of the day and night in wicked delight, with occasional breaks to walk Barnaby or test the room service. It was pure pleasure, and I would have stayed there another day if I could. But after a few restless hours of sleep despite the incredible sex, the sun crept into the room and I could hear the other guests start to move around. I eased myself up onto one elbow, careful not to disturb the beautiful blonde who laid next to me, and squinted in the morning light. I nearly yelped in surprise when I spotted two gray eyes studying me from the foot of the bed, and then I realized it was the Weimaraner. Barnaby’s jaw rested on the bed cover and he gave me a canine grin when he realized I was awake. I could hear his tail thump against the floor, and with a sigh, I eased out of the bed and into the bathroom.

  When I returned to the bedroom in search of clothes, I found Barnaby had moved to Sorcha’s side of the bed and the Irish mage was lazily petting his head. She smiled when she saw my disheveled appearance and shook her head.

  “Are you really going out like that?” she asked.

  “Well, I do intend to put clothes on,” I said primly as I rubbed a hand through my hair.

  “Go,” she laughed, “take Barnaby. I’ll order breakfast.”

  “You’re really enjoying this room service,” I noted as I picked through the clothes that were scattered around the floor.

  “I am,” she agreed. “But I probably shouldn’t do breakfast with you. I do need to return to my own room and clean up a bit. Not to mention the packing.”

  “What is there to pack?” I teased as I pulled on my boots.

  “Nothing really,” she admitted. “But I do need to clean up, and if I try that here, I suspect neither one of us will get very clean.”

  “That’s quite true.”

  I’d made it to the door by then, and I whistled for the silver dog. Barnaby, for all his earlier enthusiasm for a walk, reluctantly left the mage’s side and followed me into the hallway. Once the door was closed, though, he bounded toward the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a puppy.