Druid Mystic: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (The Colin McCool Paranormal Suspense Series Book 10)

by M. D. Massey

  And that’s my cue.

  There was no way I was going to go toe-to-toe with these vamps, not without being able to shift so I could match their speed and strength. That left me only one alternative, and that was magic. I hated to waste my sunlight spell on two low-level punks, but it was the only spell I could cast quickly that could reliably take out a couple vamps.

  Still, I didn’t have to release all the power I had stored, and I didn’t have to waste these guys, either. All I needed to do was escape and track Clara back to Saint Germain. Sure, she’d said she didn’t want anything to do with him, but the Clara I’d met back in the Hellpocalypse was in deep with the vamps who’d made all that happen.

  When I interrogated her, she’d told me exactly how she got mixed up with them. As a new vamp, Clara knew she couldn’t survive on her own, so she immediately sought out someone stronger than her to protect her. That’s why she’d glommed onto Fabrice and Jūn. But with them dead and a death sentence on her head back in Luther’s territory, she only had two choices—go it alone, or go running back to Saint Germain, begging him to take her back.

  My bet had been on the latter, and she’d just proven me right.

  “Solas,” I said, flashing the vampire thugs a grin.

  Stored sunlight flashed from my hands, hitting the vamps square in the face. My spell lit up the night like the midday sun for the span of two heartbeats, then I cut off the flow of magic to save some for later, just in case. I could only charge the spell up in sunlight, as it required absorbing solar energy into my body. And I could only store so much, perhaps enough for ten seconds of light or so. I only hoped what I had left would be enough, should I run into Saint Germain this evening.

  I’d already had the spell queued up and the two vamps had walked right into it. Both released surprised screams of agony as their skin bubbled and crisped, and their eyes boiled and burst from their sockets. The bigger one began rolling around on the ground in a rather comical imitation of “stop, drop, and roll,” while the smaller vamp fell to his knees with his hands clamped over his eye sockets. With all the music, screams, and noise around, no one even noticed their cries.

  I was tempted to kill them both. Unfortunately, real-life vamps didn’t turn to ash when you beheaded or staked them, and I sure didn’t want to leave a couple of corpses laying around for the cops to find. I could sink them in the dirt, but vamp corpses didn’t decay very quickly, and I’d be running the risk of discovery just the same. The last thing I needed was to let some coroner get hold of a couple of vamp corpses. That could spell serious trouble, and I was already going to piss off the Vampyri Council as it was.

  So instead of beheading the two vamps, I walked up to the little one, being careful to stay just out of reach. “Listen up, Beano. I’m going to spare you two, because I don’t have the time or patience to get rid of your bodies.”

  “You shoulda’ killed us, wizard. Cause when we heal up, we gonna come after ya’, f-sure.”

  “And next time I’ll just burn your asses to ash. You and Spork stay out of my way, and it won’t have to come to that.”

  I was about to leave when I realized I needed to keep them from contacting their coven-mates. Without getting too close, I targeted each of them with a jolt of static electricity that was more than enough to fry any electronics they might be carrying. Watching them twitch and jerk when they got hit was my bonus entertainment for the evening.

  Once I was certain they wouldn’t be able to reach out to their friends, it was time to go. Staying well clear of Spike, who was still rolling around in the dirt moaning, I headed for the midway with Bruno yelling epithets and threats after me.

  “You’re dead, ya’ little punk-ass bitch. Dead!”

  “Take a number,” I muttered as I slipped into the crowd of Halloween revelers.

  Knowing she’d bolt again as soon as I gave her the chance, I’d placed a tracker spell on Clara back at Luther’s club. It was something I’d been working on with Finnegas, in conjunction with the Grove. When I cast the spell, a small horehound seed would grow somewhere in the folds of the target’s clothing. A common hitchhiker plant, horehound seeds would readily attach to cotton and other fibers, acting as a tiny organic locating device that I could track with the help of the Druid Oak.

  Of course, I’d half-expected Clara to split when I left her unattended at the Pack’s clubhouse, but she’d been too wary of my warnings to run. Yet the crafty little shit had somehow managed to text her buddies to ask for help, likely as soon as we arrived in NOLA. I had to hand it to her—she was a foul-mouthed pain in the ass, but she was resourceful, too.

  I could’ve had the Oak transport me to Clara’s current location, but I needed to give her time to reach out to her contacts in Saint Germain’s coven. Besides, Finnegas had warned me to avoid using the Oak’s magic for travel after we found a place to hide. Doing so might alert Aenghus to our presence here, or so the old man had thought. Using the tracking spell was risky enough, and the less I used the Oak’s magic, the better.

  The downside to letting Spike and Bruno live was that Saint Germain would know I was coming after Clara just as soon as those two bozos got their eyesight back. But as injured as they were, I still had time. If I was lucky, they’d slink off into the woods and dig down into the soil for the day to avoid being cooked to a crisp when the sun came up.

  Then again, they might decide to lure some poor soul behind the port-a-potty trailers so they could feed. Feeding would accelerate the healing process for them, but it still might not be enough to restore their vision before dawn. I cursed my lack of foresight, wishing I’d just killed them and been done with it.

  Even young vampires could move quickly when they wanted, and I had to locate Clara before she got out of range of my spell. The little bloodsucker could be halfway across town by now and I simply couldn’t spare the time it would take to find Spike and Bruno again, kill them, and dispose of both vamps properly. I tried not to think about the fact that I’d be responsible for everyone they killed from this point forward.

  Nobody ever said this shit would be easy. I just need to concentrate on finding Saint Germain so I can neutralize him. Then I’ll get Luther’s help with putting someone in charge here who isn’t a psychopath.

  But the question was, why hadn’t Luther warned me about him before now? Was it because it was coven business, no humans allowed? Or was he trying to keep me out of the Vampyri Council’s crosshairs?

  Luther wasn’t the type of vampire who’d approve of putting a ruthless killer in charge of one of the largest covens in the nation. For the last two years he and I had been fairly tight, and I didn’t buy that he was just going along with what the Council wanted. There was more to this story than he’d let on, and now I wished I’d asked more questions of him before I left Austin.

  I could call him, but cell phone use was a no-no right now as well. Gods like Aenghus had human minions, and often they were positioned highly in government and law enforcement. He’d definitely be monitoring cell phones, waiting for me to call a contact and reveal where I was hiding. That’s why my phone was in my Bag where no one could track it, and there it would stay there until this shit was over.

  Finnegas had warned me that being on the run would tax my patience. As usual, the old man was right. Already I found myself compromising my principles by letting a couple of potential killers live, and it was all because of Aenghus.

  This laying low shit is turning out to be a real pain in the ass. Maybe I should just fry Saint Germain’s ass when I find him and be done with it.

  As I ran across the city, I couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air. It seemed to me as if the entire city was locked in fear. Not a tangible fear, but the type of fright that remains just out of sight, waiting to crawl from beneath your bed or slither out of your closet. Of course, tourists were out in full force all over the French Quarter, oblivious to the dangers surrounding them. However, in other neighborhoods local residents had locked
their homes up tight, while shopkeepers gave me nervous glances as I walked by their stores.

  Even the homeless people were nowhere to be seen. In any city, the homeless population was the canary in the coal mine when it came to dangers, supernatural or otherwise. I could only assume they were hiding until sunrise in one of the area’s homeless shelters, or perhaps in some private bolthole that provided safety by way of concealment.

  According to the information the Druid Oak was giving me, Clara was not far away. From the looks of it she’d headed straight to the heart of the French quarter, holing up inside some local bar or tourist trap. It had long been a tradition among the local coven to hunt freely among the many tourists who drunkenly wandered the streets of the city after dark. Many of the businesses in the French Quarter were owned by the local vampire coven, so it was no surprise to me that she’d headed this way.

  After all, tourists disappeared all the time—that was a given in the Big Easy. Cops around here did their best, but they got so many missing persons reports it was impossible for them to follow up on everyone. So long as the vampires didn’t get sloppy, they pretty much had free reign to pick off the occasional drunken reveler.

  Based on what I’d seen the last time I visited the city, New Orleans offered plenty of willing volunteers for hungry local vampires. The city had long been known for hosting a subculture of people who embraced the dark, the macabre, and the supernatural. The kind of vampires that I would classify as evil knew this and took advantage of it, luring willing victims in with promises of eternal youth and everlasting life.

  Unfortunately for those people, vampires were actually quite hesitant to turn normal humans into their own kind. Usually it happened by accident, and often when it did, the nascent vampire would quickly be destroyed by the local coven. The only baby vampires who survived were those created by a master vampire for a specific purpose—either as a plaything or because they offered some skill or benefit to the local coven that the current coven members did not yet possess.

  Still, cases of accidental vampire creation were rare. The primary reason being that the savagery of a vampire attack usually killed the host before the vyrus could transform them on a cellular level. Besides that, the vampyri vyrus wasn’t quite as virulent as legend would make it seem.

  For most humans, a single bite would not turn them into a vampire. A few days after being fed on, the vyrus would be eliminated by their body’s natural defenses. That is, unless they had a compromised immune system. That was one of the reasons why vamps tended to be picky when choosing their victims, and also why they rotated their cattle, only feeding off the same person once every five to seven days.

  If a victim had a weak immune system and the infection spread through their body before death, the vyrus would sometimes reanimate them as one of the lesser undead. These species included zombies, ghouls, and revenants, with zombies being the least intelligent, ghouls being only slightly more intelligent, and revenants being the only one of the three that possessed even the barest level of self-awareness.

  Thus, creating a new vampire required infecting a healthy person over and over again in a very short period of time, keeping them alive while the vyrus did its thing. That’s why it was usually a master who created new vampires. For one, master vampires generally didn’t have to answer to anyone about who they chose to turn. Also, older vampires were normally much better at controlling their more feral urges. That meant they could feed on humans—and infect them as well—while limiting the amount of damage they did to the host’s body.

  Which brought me back to the subject of Clara—specifically, who made her and why was she allowed to live? Unless she was a very lucky accident, an older vampire had turned her for a specific reason. But what made her so special, to be chosen when so many others would be turned away?

  Regardless of why she was made, I had a pretty solid hunch as to who had made her. And I was fairly certain that she was heading back to him now. I hoped I was right, because it would save me from searching the entire city and fighting my way through half the NOLA coven’s vamps to get to him.

  Truth be told, that was a situation I desperately wanted to avoid, as taking Saint Germain down without my Fomorian powers would be challenging enough. As for how I was going to deal with a vicious master vampire who was also a skilled alchemist, that remained to be seen. If I thought he could be reasoned with, then I’d try that first. But if not, I’d have to deal with him as quickly as possible, because there was no way I could go mano a mano with a vampire of his age and strength in my human form.

  I put him in power, so it’s my responsibility to take him out. Yay, me.

  9

  I followed the “signal” coming from my tracking spell to a back-alley in the heart of the French Quarter. New Orleans was chock-full of magic users who practiced voodoo, which was why it was everywhere in the city. The local mambos and houngans held an uneasy truce with the ruling vampire coven, and the two factions tended to steer clear of each other's interests. The fact that this entire city block was free of any businesses related to voodoo or magic told me all I needed to know about who owned it.

  Knowing the coven would have lookouts on duty, both human and vampire, I put my hood up and cloaked myself in an obfuscation spell, which was a much stronger druidic version of a standard “look away, go away” cantrip. Then, I circled the block, deftly slipping through the crowds of people who’d come out to celebrate Halloween a few days early. Once I had a good idea how to get in without being seen, I slipped into an alcove near an alley entrance and triggered my chameleon spell and proximity sound trap spell. Those spells, combined with the obfuscation cantrip I’d cast on myself earlier, would make me effectively undetectable to humans.

  With that settled, I just needed to get past the vampires.

  There were four vamps posted in key observation positions at each corner of the block, either on rooftops or in second-story windows, that gave them a clear view of every approach. They hadn’t made me yet, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t see me once I ducked behind the storefronts. But even a vampire could only look in one direction at a time, so if I timed things right I could slip in without notice.

  The vamp nearest to me stood in the shadows atop a corner building, scanning the street in both directions at random intervals. He was tall, blonde, and looked like a runway model, but from the way he kept watch it was clear he was a pro. I stood stock still, peeking around the corner of my alcove, waiting for my opportunity.

  Now!

  As soon as the vamp looked down the other street, I exited the alcove and ducked around the corner into a narrow cobblestone breezeway between a couple of bars. After vaulting a tall wrought-iron gate with a sign that said, “Private—Employees Only,” it was a short walk to the rear of the buildings. Keeping to the shadows, I searched the irregular-shaped courtyard in the center of the block for roving guards. Seeing none, I scanned the walls of each building for Clara’s “signal.”

  The way the tracking spell worked was simple. To me, the Grove’s seed appeared as a faint green dot of light in the magical spectrum. The closer I got, the brighter it became. At the moment, it appeared as a blazing ball of light below ground level and inside a back-alley coffee shop that had “Permanently Closed” written in white shoe polish on the front window and door glass.

  After checking a final time for hidden lookouts and finding none, I headed for the coffee shop. Picking the lock with magic was easy, and the proximity sound trap spell took care of the old-school chime on the door. I slipped inside the café, closing the door shut behind me and grabbing the chime so it wouldn’t keep ringing after I’d passed. Then, I paused, taking time to extend my senses and get a feel for the building.

  The place smelled of freshly-ground and brewed coffee, which told me that humans were still using the place. Beneath that scent I detected the earthy, coppery, slightly musky odor of vampires—the smell of old clotted blood and the rot of death just barely held at bay.
Each vamp had their own distinct scent, but there were so many different odor signatures in the building that it was impossible to pick out any single vampire’s stench.

  I heard several people conversing below, interspersed with the raucous laughter of persons or vampires who were completely and utterly assured of their safety. Slipping like a shadow across the dining area, I drew a silver-plated Bowie knife in one hand and my Glock in the other. Beyond the kitchen I found a diamond plate trap door that had been left open, exposing a set of metal stairs that led to a lower level.

  Descending the stairs on tiptoe, I followed the sounds of conversation and the increasingly strong smells of blood and vampire. The basement was dimly-lit, but I’d already enhanced my senses so my eyes easily adjusted to the gloom. The space was nondescript, clean, and spartan, with a large, ancient coffee-roasting machine, stainless steel counters, an industrial sink, and shelves lining a narrow hall that led farther into the darkness.

  I headed down the hall, because that’s where the voices were coming from, and where that blazing green ball of nature magic resided. Picking my way past stacks of cardboard boxes and pallets piled high with huge sacks of coffee beans, I checked three doors as I passed—all were locked, and nothing stirred within. I’d nearly reached the end of the hallway when I heard the metal door slam shut behind me. As the sound of a large padlock snapping in place echoed through the darkness, I realized that I’d just walked into a trap.

  Well, shit.

  Considering my exposed position, an attack seemed imminent. Searching for a hiding place and finding none, I sheathed the knife and holstered the gun so I could queue up a couple of nasty crowd control spells. I took a side-facing stance that would allow me to fling spells in both directions at once. Then I waited, a ball of flame floating in one hand and lightning crackling in the other.