She added cream to her coffee and stirred it. “So, you need to calm down more in stressful situations?”
I nodded.
She smiled in a way that seemed to wash away my worries. “I know something you can try. Back when you were little, before you could walk, your dad and I owned an old black Scotty named Chester. He was a sweet dog, but hyperactive. You were terrified of him because he’d jump all over you while you were crawling.”
She might as well have told me I once knew how to fly. “What are you talking about? I love dogs.”
She grinned at me like she knew better. “You learned to love dogs, but you and Chester never got along. Your daddy came up with the sure-fire way to calm you down whenever the mutt scared you. Want to know what Paddy did?”
Mom had always been a great storyteller. She knew how to hook me and reel me in. “Hell, yes.”
She sang, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are…”
She recited the entire first verse, and an eerie feeling came over me as she sang the nursery rhyme in her melodic voice. I suddenly did feel a lot better…but the idea was ridiculous. “Mom that’s not helping. I need something I can use in battle.”
She snickered. “You’d scream, and he’d bark. It sounded like a pair of banshees were slaughtering each other in the living room.”
Mom’s horrible life had melted some of her brain circuits. She was talking nonsense. I tried to change the subject by saying, “Okay, good tip. By the way, how are you feeling now that we’ve managed to get a few good meals into you?”
“You don’t believe me, do you? Just try it once.”
“Sure, next chance I get. Now, how are you’re feeling?”
She shrugged, like she was giving up. “I’ve been hungry so long I can’t seem to eat enough to catch up. But I’m working on it.”
I was relieved that she wasn’t going to keep harping on the nursery rhyme, and I made a mental note to try it if all else failed. I knew two things for sure. First, I wasn’t coming back from New Orleans without Cara, couldn’t live with that kind of loss. And second, I wouldn’t become a slave again. This last effort would truly be do or die.
-o-o-o-
AFTER LUNCH, IAN suggested a sparring session with no holds barred, full contact street fighting mixed with magic. To make it more of a challenge for him, Chen and I faced our fearless leader together. Although the monk was relentlessly cheerful, he was also a determined fighter.
He and I agreed upon the first few moves each of us would make so we could complement each other’s attacks. Our basic approach was to keep the boss between us and hammer at him from both sides. He didn’t have eyes in the back of his head, although it often seemed like it. While one fighter was getting pounded, the other would attack him from behind.
As soon as Jin rang a bell to start, Ian began kicking and punching me. I hit him with a pulse of lightning, but it didn’t make it through his shield. Chen pounded at him from the back, mostly flailing against Ian’s ward, but for the first time, I saw Prince Charming break into a sweat.
That encouraged me, and I redoubled my efforts. Ian tried to immobilize me with a spell, but I was using a ward, too.
Fifteen minutes later, I was exhausted and collapsed to the floor. Luckily, Ian dropped at the same time, so I counted it as a draw. Chen leaned against the wall, the last man standing, before he slid downward. All three of us huffed and puffed like we’d run a three-minute mile.
I was the first to get back to my feet, still breathing hard, but I managed to say, “I think we’re as ready for those bastards as we’re ever going to be.”
“Hope so,” the boss said. “I can’t keep training at this level. Getting too old.”
That was ridiculous. Our mutual mentor, Gill, was over a century old, and he could take all three of us with little trouble. But at least I understood what Ian meant about training too hard. At some point, we’d peak and begin to decline. Maybe we were nearing that point now, a thought that made me shiver.
“Get up, you pansy,” I said. “I’m ready for the next round.” But my arms felt like rubber.
He staggered to his feet. “Let’s go get a beer instead.”
-o-o-o-
WHILE HE AND I were lollygagging, I had an idea. “What if we asked Maureen to give you a new persona? She could make you look like me, the Bloody Mary me.”
He smacked his lips. “Terrific idea.”
Before we could think of any good reason not to do it, we jumped up and found Maureen. She was more than happy to help. When he and I took the same persona at the same time, we looked like demented twins. Maureen took a photo for her wall of fame.
Chapter 22
Thursday, March 25th
IAN, THAO, AND I left Monterey early. Mom and Dana came with us, and we shared a tearful goodbye. I kept telling them I’d be fine, but they couldn’t seem to turn off the waterworks.
Our plane left late, and because of a missed connection, didn’t arrive in New Orleans until the evening. We’d wanted extra time to get familiar with the city, but that didn’t work out. The temperature was ninety degrees, with ninety percent humidity. Welcome to the heart of Dixie.
Thao had come along to help us scope out the opposition, and it didn’t hurt that he was fluent in French. Part of his extended family lived in the Big Easy, and they’d given him some tips about places to see and the local sorcerer community.
The three of us stayed in a fancy B&B, a couple of miles from the Beaumont Hotel. Suong had found out that the warlock’s meeting would take place at a law firm’s office a few blocks from there. That was helpful because we wanted to stay as far away from those assholes as possible.
We reconnoitered public places downtown where one of us could fight Breaux. I still hadn’t given up on the idea that I could do it, but one thing was sure—neither Ian nor I was going to fight him at the Beaumont. That would be insane. He could have ten of the nastiest sorcerers in the country there to take his place.
After a couple of hours walking around, Ian, Thao and I agreed that the best place to battle Breaux would be Jackson Square. It was a big, open park with lots of room for battle. The square sat in the middle of the French Quarter, and we relaxed at a Parisian-style bistro a few blocks away. My stomach was doing flip-flops, but a third of a bottle of burgundy helped that. I’d been planning this fight for so long, that I couldn’t wait to get it on.
-o-o-o-
Friday, March 26th
AFTER A LEISURELY breakfast, Thao used his talent for disappearing to check out the Beaumont. A half-hour later, he called Ian and me.
“As we suspected,” the detective said, “the hotel is packed with dark immortals hoping to see what will surely be a legendary fight. And more sorcerers are coming by the minute.”
“Have you seen Breaux?” I asked.
“Of course. He’s reveling in the attention. To be honest, I don’t think he expects you to show up. He just wants to milk the moment for all the adulation he can get.”
“How about if we do this?” I asked. “Ian and I can go to Jackson Park now. Once we’re there, if you can approach him safely, tell him he can have his fight immediately at Jackson Square, but he has to come alone.”
“Moira,” Ian said with a smile. “You’re so sneaky. I love it.”
-o-o-o-
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, the boss and I made it to the park. Because it was relatively early in the day, it seemed empty compared to the evening before. Nevertheless, it was already swelteringly hot, and black clouds were building over the city. That threat had probably discouraged visitors.
I called Thao. “Time to deliver our challenge. Tell him to meet us in front of the Andrew Jackson statue.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I have news.” And Thao did so quickly. “Breaux refuses to fight you anywhere but the hotel.”
I hadn’t expected that, but I should’ve. The guy wasn’t interested in a fair
fight, just winning at all costs. Actually, I felt the same way. I didn’t care how we got Cara, Frank, and Ginger back, just as long as we did. So, I glanced at Ian and passed on the news.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
“Wait.” I grabbed his arm to stop him. Then I asked Thao, “Do you see a tall, thin guy with curly red hair?”
“I do,” the detective said. “He’s hanging on Breaux’s every word.”
That was Raymond, the reporter who’d broadcast Breaux’s latest challenge. I’d dealt with him for years, and we’d become friends, at least as friendly as I ever got with a sorcerer. “Tell him Bloody Mary wants to talk to him. Then give him the phone.”
A couple minutes later, Raymond asked, “Mary, is that you?”
“You bet your ass, buddy,” I said. “Listen, I just offered to fight Breaux in Jackson Square, a few blocks away from you, and the coward refused. Can you believe that?”
The reporter chuckled. “No, maybe he’s not the bad ass he claims.”
“I’m sitting out here, getting fat on hot dogs, while he runs off at the mouth about what a scary fighter he is. I hope you’ll ask that cowardly son of a bitch—and please use those words—why he’s too afraid to fight me.”
“You’re always stirring up trouble, Mary. Damned if I don’t miss you. I’ll go ask.”
“Perfect,” I said. “And put the phone on speaker so everybody can hear what I have to say to him.”
During the pause that followed, Ian whispered to me, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Putting him on the spot is sure to piss him off.”
“Yeah, I thought of that,” I whispered back. “But I don’t think he’ll come unless I shame him into it.”
Over the phone, I heard Raymond challenge Breaux who yelled back, “This is where I agreed to fight. I’m not chasing her all over the city.”
Before Raymond could say anything, I yelled back, “Antoine, you chicken shit coward! You afraid to stand up to a real woman? I’m standing here in Jackson Square right now, waiting for your sorry ass. I guess I’d better pick on one of the homeless guys, instead. I’m sure he’ll give me a better fight than you ever could.”
Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head. I didn’t care. The only way to get our folks back was to coax Breaux to neutral ground.
The asshole didn’t answer.
Raymond said, “I can’t believe you’re going to let Bloody Mary disrespect you like that. You claimed you wanted to fight her, and she’s calling you out. Why are you still here?”
In the background, men laughed. One guy said, “Yeah, he’s a tough guy, against patsies.”
Breaux roared, “Fine, if you want to battle, you’ve got it. On my way.”
A moment later, Raymond said, “He’s coming, and so is everybody else. Just so you know. Good luck.”
I hung up. That’s when it hit me. This fight was going to happen and damned soon. “Their side only gets one champion, right?”
Ian rubbed his face with his hands. “Yeah, but I could be challenged again after the first fight. I guess I’ll worry about that when the time comes. It depends whether any of their toughest warlocks wants to mix it up.”
I was less satisfied than ever with our plan to switch attackers. “Look, I called the guy out very publicly, and I feel a moral obligation to take him on.”
Ian shrugged. “The only obligation I feel is to bring home Cara, Frank, and Ginger. I’m keeping my eye on the prize.”
He was right. They had no honor, and they would screw us if they could. Why should we be any different? But I had a sour feeling in my stomach that I rarely got before a battle. “We’ve got a few minutes before they can get here. Anything else we need to do to prepare?”
He shook his head.
While we waited for the crowd to show up, a tall, stocky black woman with mostly white hair approached us from the direction of St. Louis Cathedral. She walked awkwardly, leaning on a walking stick. I pointed her out to Ian. He peered at her for a moment.
“Something’s not right about her,” he said. “I’m going to give her a closer look. Meanwhile, you keep an eye open toward the right side of the park. That’s where Breaux should arrive.”
He ambled forward, pretending to be fascinated by the shrub roses along the path between the statue and the Cathedral. I kept my eyes moving back and forth between him and where Breaux and his band of troublemakers should appear.
There they are. I spotted Raymond first, walking next to a giant of a guy who didn’t look anything like the snapshot Henri had sent me. At least twenty sorcerers followed Breaux as he strode toward me. I changed into my fighting form and pulled my shrunken staff out of my waistband in the back.
Then I heard Ian’s voice call out, “I challenge you for magical power.”
A quick glance confirmed that the old woman was really a big black sorcerer.
Shit! They’re attacking us from two different directions.
So much for letting the boss handle everything. A small thrill coursed through me. I was going to get my chance to fight, after all. Hopefully, I’d learned enough to kick Antoine’s ass.
I tried to calm myself as much as I could, turned to face the sorcerer, and formed a ward. Holarthon, elbo protège.
The Montréal asshole stomped toward me. His face was red and his fists clenched. Steam practically poured out of his ears. I’d definitely fueled his attack spells, but it couldn’t be helped. And Olympia’s training had taught me something I wouldn’t have noticed before. He was too mad to think clearly. I had to take advantage of that.
Off to my left, I heard the boom of simultaneous thunderclaps, but I ignored them. Ian was a big boy, and he’d have to care for himself. I had my own hands full. And although the thunder had come from ground level, the skies opened. Huge raindrops pummeled us all.
When Breaux came within twenty feet, I yelled, “For Cara’s sake, I challenge you for magical power!”
When I froze, I tried to calm myself. Since he was already mad, he was sure to come out blasting. I could do the same, but why not let him wear himself out? If I could survive his first few spells, he’d be exhausted for a moment. A classic rookie fighter’s mistake. Then I could fire back before he recovered enough to create protection.
So, I pushed my anger I felt from seeing him into my emotional vault and closed it for the moment. I thought of sitting by myself on Del Monte beach meditating and reached the second jhana while he paced back-and-forth, waiting for the battle to begin. He kept his staff aimed at me.
When the buzzing in my ears began, he shot a fireball the size of a basketball at my head. Oh yeah, he was pissed. The spell slammed into my barrier and obliterated it. So much for me imagining a peaceful meditation on the beach. This fight was on.
Other than a few errant sparks, I survived untouched. Chen had inspired me to take a different approach, and I shook off the wave of fear threatening to overwhelm me. Then I settled deep inside my mind again. Maybe he had enough reserves to hit me several times, but no harm in making him show his best stuff—until my protection failed for good.
I struck a pouty pose, pointing my weapon at him. The rain poured over us, but I ignored it. “Really? Is that all you got? Aw, gee. What a letdown. Maybe one of your asshole friends will give me a better fight later.”
But they’d already begun to fade away. I’d worn a raincoat, but Breaux and most of the sorcerers hadn’t.
Breaux screamed in frustration and pointed his staff again. This time, thunder boomed, and a bolt of blue lightning shot toward me. Part of it punched through my ward, hitting me in the chest and paralyzing me. I was defenseless. Panic flashed through me.
Thank the gods, he was spent. He bent over, his chest heaving. He’d used too much magic too quickly. The only question was which one of us could recover first.
I did, thanks to the constant sparring matches Ian had organized. As soon as I could, I dashed at Breaux, spacing my st
eps so I could bring my foot up into his face. I strained to hit him as hard as I could.
Something crunched, hopefully his goddamned skull. He jerked upright and staggered backwards.
Oh yeah!
But the playboy was tougher than he looked. Although his eyes crossed for a moment, he punched the end of his staff into my chest.
That caught me by surprise. And damn, did it hurt. My heart missed a few beats, and my mind clouded for a couple of seconds. I struggled to stay upright, leaning on my staff until the world came together again. Don’t get cocky.
Breaux charged me, both fists flailing.
I barely ducked in time, but his momentum slammed his torso into me as I was bent over, knocking both of us down.
My wrestling experience in the ring helped. I used the momentum of falling to flip him over me onto his back against one of the large shrubs surrounding the Jackson statue. And when I scrambled up, I jammed my knee into his throat, hoping to crush his windpipe. He gagged for an instant but twisted away.
As I rose onto the balls of my feet, I fired off a lightning bolt, but didn’t have enough time to aim.
Still, it caught him in his left leg. He roared with pain. He’d lost his concentration and let his ward drop. I couldn’t expect him to make that mistake again.
I patched together my own protection. Stay focused. Just another day in the life.
The few asshole sorcerers who remained cheered him on, but I loved shutting up crowds cheering for the other guy.
“Not so tough,” I taunted him, “are you, pussy!” I strutted around him. “Who’s got the bigger balls? I’ve got ’em, girly man.”
Breaux shook his head to clear it and roared with anger. I caught him in the ribs with a roundhouse kick, but it felt like I’d hit a tree. Dammit, this was going to be a lot tougher than I’d thought.
Chapter 23
STILL, HE HADN’T seemed to know how to pace himself, and fired another fireball at my head that careened off the top of my ward. I kept trying to think of things to goad him to use up his magic while I saved mine. “I’ve fought bunnies with more kick than you!”
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