The Roving Death (The Freelancers Book 2)

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The Roving Death (The Freelancers Book 2) Page 12

by Lee Isserow


  Knowing that he wasn't ready to look at her, she turned her attention on Lincoln. “You said you apologised.”

  “I did!”

  “When?” Rafe spat, gruffly.

  “When it happened!”

  “Really? I remember you coming to visit all of once while I was in recovery. Big damn smile on your face, calling me 'mundy' and 'magitard'. Never heard so much as an actual 'sorry' out your damn lips.”

  “That's just a British thing, Rafey, you've got to read between the lines. Stiff upper lip and what have you.”

  “Read between this line,” Rafe shot back, as he gave Lincoln the finger.

  “Oh, very mature―”

  Lincoln's words were obscured by a loud thud that echoed through the bar. The door had been thrown open, a flurry of movement, a blur of bodies crawled over one another, stamping on the poor patron that had opened the door to make his exit. Damn things didn't need glasses to enter, they had enough magick in their thick, black blood to come through soon as the two houses became one and the door was opened from the inside. . .

  The swarm funnelled through the bar. Their entrance caught the eye of each of the customers, who to Ana's surprise, all seemed to know what they were, and burst into action. Blasts of light erupted from whipped palms, which threw the Teloah against walls in groups of two or three―but the brood wasn't going to be sedated by mere injuries, they just got right back up and launched themselves in Rafe's direction.

  Flames arced across the room from the red velvet curtains at the back of the stage. The fire adept was poking her head out from the dressing room to see what the commotion was about, and put her natural skill to use. Her flames seared across the brood, roasting them alive. But burning and melting their flesh only seemed to make them angrier.

  Her feet hit the catwalk of the stage, heels clicking over the groans and moans, legs crossing with a cool, calm model-walk confidence. A smile crawled up one cheek and she raised her left hand out, took a deep breath, centred herself whilst she aimed her arm in the direction of the closest Teloah. As ring finger and then middle met thumb, a double click rang out. It seemed to Ana that the sound expanded exponentially as it travelled further from the source, two loud cracks thundering out over the room like thick twigs being snapped. And in an instant, the Teloah she had been pointing at burst into flames from the inside out.

  It belched bright blue fire from its mouth and nose, eyes boiling in its skull and exploding out wards, smoke bellowed out from its ears as it fell down to the floor. Motionless. Dead.

  At the sight of the creature's death, the other magickians rose to action, a silent understanding passed from one to the next―this was not a time or place for mercy. . . They would have to cast with the intention to kill, rather than than subdue.

  Rafe raised his fingers to cast, but Ana's hands grabbed his before he could. Their eyes met, an entire wordless conversation in that glance. He wanted to help―but she wouldn't allow it. He was to save his magick, rather than wipe himself out for the day and hit the hangover threshold, not while they had a whole room of backup.

  She turned to the swarm with new purpose in mind. By seeing the wild, crazy throng of the brood, she understood that these weren't people, not any more. There was no bringing them back from this.

  Ana took a breath, raised her hands ahead of her, and her fingers met. A wicked glint appeared in her eye. She was going to cut these bastards down to size.

  She stepped towards the fray, and cast great cracks in reality all around her, shattering the feverishly violent drones one by one, into bloody slices of flesh that flopped and splattered to the ground.

  A quick glance to the stage made her smile even wider, as she saw the fire adept had been joined by the water and smoke adept that performed alongside her. Still looking glamorous in their costumes, it felt to Ana as though she were part of the show―albeit a show that was much more violent than the beautiful spectacles they had performed earlier.

  The satyr leaped over the bar, thrust his legs out, and his hooves slammed into three Teloah. The kick sent them hurtling to the floor with a massive clap of bone on stone. As he landed, he lifted up his great black hooves and drove them down onto the skulls of the infected, and proceeded to wipe his feet back and forth on their chests, to clean off the mush of blood and brains.

  Their diminishing numbers made the rest of the brood angry. Adrenaline seemed to surge through them, reactions speeding up, movements faster and more erratic. One by one, a cough rippled through the horde. A cough that was all too familiar to Ana. It reminded her of the family back at the first house. . .

  Before any of the magickians had a chance to react, glutinous purple jello-tentacles were whipping around. They thrashed wildly, and grabbed hold of three unsuspecting patrons that came too close to their foes. The thin barbed appendages tore into their flesh, which sent the spores coursing through their veins, turning them into part of the brood faster than airborne transmission.

  The three magickians started to hack and cough, spitting out small tentacles of their own, that thrashed back and forth in their mouths.

  “Ana!” Rafe shouted, over the top of the coughs and screams, fire roars and water splashes. She threw up a barrier to hold the Teloah back, and turned to hear what he had to say.

  He tried to hold in the smile, the pride of seeing her use the magick he had taught her without a second thought. “You're holding back.” His tone was stern. “We need to end this, now. Nobody else should have to die today.”

  She knew what he was saying, knew what he was telling her to do. Since they first met he had been telling her just how much magick she had flowing through her veins, and she had been trying to ignore it, not let it go to her head. But seeing the other adepts in action, seeing how they fought fearlessly and didn't seem overwhelmed by the use of their innate magick, and with the lives of others on the line, she knew the only way to end this was to embrace the power she had been trying to suppress.

  Ana threw the barrier back, knocked the Teloah to the floor. The brood members behind them toppled over, turning the mob into a clumsy throng of wildly thrashing tentacles, arms and legs. Ana shut off the sounds around her, the screams and grunts, shouts and cries, roars and sloshes. She zoned it all out, found silence in herself, balled up her fists and brought them close to her chest. She closed her eyes, and pictured the Mirror Realm as she had been imagining it thus far. Imagining its reflections and refractions, shards and cracks. A place beyond the Natural World, somewhere these things could no longer hurt or infect or spread or kill.

  She threw her arms out and opened her eyes, with pure, unadulterated intent burning through her thoughts.

  As her fingers parted and spread wide, she felt the cracks forming at the tips, the air felt as though she were running her skin over a chink in a glass. She saw the cracks in her mind's eye before she saw them in front of her, her intention made flesh, reality shattering, the herd of savage possessed men, woman and children splintered apart, torn asunder. Their thick, viscous black blood splattered to the floor as their flesh was fractured, sent out of the Natural World into the Mirror Realm―her realm―vanishing into another facet of reality, never to be seen again.

  The breath left her chest.

  Ana felt pale, weak, her legs gave out from under her. She fell, but didn't feel herself hit the ground. Something grabbed her―someone grabbed her.

  It was a blur of a face. But she didn't need to be able to make it out clearly. From the way he held her, the strength in his arms, the faint glow of his green eyes, she knew it was Rafe.

  The room was silent. All eyes on her.

  None of them had ever seen a mirror adept in the flesh, let alone one that had the magick to command the adept so thoroughly.

  Focus started to kick in, a wide and giddy smile on her lips, looking to Rafe as though she were stoned out of her gourd. Alternating clips and clops came towards them, the disgruntled whinny of a person that was part man, part horse, and entirely
annoyed.

  “You're paying to get this place cleaned up,” the satyr grumbled.

  Rafe didn't bother looking up at him, his eyes were locked on Ana's. “Put it on my tab. . .”

  Chapter 33

  Check the cells

  Rafe waited until Ana was steady on her feet before he decided to get to the bottom of Lincoln's story. He wouldn't get it from him, not the truth a least, so the next best source would be from The Circle itself.

  He knew that nobody of any importance would take the call, and decided to ring the most reliable person at the Epicentre that he was still in contact with. . . And hoped that she would actually take his damn call, given that she seemed annoyed by his continued existence at the best of times.

  “What now?” Tali grumbled.

  Ana scoffed, she was more than familiar with Tali's tone whenever Rafe asked for a favour.

  “Quick thing, I promise―”

  “Better be. Everything's on fire and I'm trying to put it all the hell out . .“

  “Lincoln Nightblade still on your books?”

  “On leave.”

  “On leave you say?” he glanced over to Lincoln, who was sitting at the bar with a whispsky, and a surly expression on his face.

  “Don't ask for details.”

  “Come on Tali, you know I love details.”

  “Call it a professional indiscretion.”

  “What kind of professional indiscretion?”

  “I really don't want to have to think about it. . .”

  “Please?”

  “I've only just scrubbed the images from my mind's eye.”

  “Come on Tali. I'll owe you.”

  “You already owe me. Over and over and over again.”

  “I'll owe you one more. . .”

  “Fine,” her exasperated sigh rippled over his skull. “He... slept with a brood mother.”

  Rafe caught Ana's inquisitive glance and shrugged “You mean sex, not literal sleep, right?“

  “Do you really need me to spell it out?”

  “Course not. But. . . Tali. . . How exactly does one have intercourse with a brood mother?”

  “I really don't want to think about it again. . .”

  “Come on, take one for the team.”

  “What team? Since when are we a damn team?”

  “This is important, Tali.”

  “Fine, dammit! It was in captivity, you know what the zoo is like, understaffed, low security. He sneaked in one night and. . . penetrated it.”

  “Do they even have sex organs?”

  “They're one big sex organ. . . Oh gods, I've seen the damn tapes, he's pounding away at it from every angle, getting himself all up in the slime, tentacles latching onto him―they said it looks like he's got them sliding up him from every angle, down his peehole―yuck! Sends a shiver over me just thinking about it.”

  Ana tried her best to hold back a snort of laughter, it was disgusting, but for some reason, she found the whole thing hilarious.

  “Well, as long as it was consensual, I guess it's a beautiful act, huh?” Rafe's tone was thick with wry intent, much to the vexation of Tali.

  “Yeah, thanks for making me retell it, arsehole. I'm going to need a thousand showers now. . .”

  “They say cleanliness is godliness.”

  “Are we done? Can I go do some actual work now?”

  “One last thing, what's his deal?”

  “What deal? He's suspended and in solitary until they work out what the hell to do with him.”

  “Solitary?” Rafe looked over to the bar―Lincoln was no longer sitting there. He glanced around the room, catching no sign of him, and signalled to Ana that he had run off. She headed out to the door whilst he looked for Lincoln in the shadows and crevices of the room.

  Moments later they met back at the bar, neither having found him. Rafe growled in Tali's periphery.

  “Got some bad news. Tell your boys to check the cells. . . pretty sure they're missing a jello-fucker.”

  Chapter 34

  A powerful and insatiable hunger

  Ana was still surging with intent, and managed to conjure a door past the wards, allowing them to walk straight into Reva's house. But as they entered the cabinet-walled living room, they found the place empty.

  “How come he's not on the map any more?” Ana asked.

  “Must have cloaked the Teloah in his bloodstream. . . Reva?”

  There was no answer. He checked the kitchen, the back garden, the street outside, and came back empty handed. “She's gone. . .”

  Ana beckoned him over to the door to the bedroom, where soft, guttural moans were sounding out to a rhythmic beat. “Not gone―if anything, I think she's about to. . . come.”

  Rafe didn't have time to waste on the scheduled arrival of the crone's orgasm, he banged his fist on the door, disregarding the intimacy occurring within.

  “Reva! Put the bean back in the jar, need you out here!”

  “I'll. . . be there. . . In my own. . . damn time!” she shouted back, between heavy breaths.

  Rafe snarled at the response, and shoved the door open. “You can get back to your fun when this is o―” The word fell out of his mouth, jaw frozen, entire body frozen, eyes locked wide. Reva had initiated a casting that held him in place, their eyes locked as she lay on the bed, every iota of her grey, almost translucent skin out for the world to see, and a pack of dvergars lapping away between her legs, the six inch tall men all working together to bring her to a loud, tuneful climax.

  As soon as she caught her breath, Reva rose, grabbed a dressing gown, and walked to the door whilst the tiny sub-dwarves climbed down from the bed. As she passed Rafe, Reva released him from her casting.

  “―ver!” he grunted, finally finishing the word stuck in his mouth minutes earlier. He blinked, relieved to replace the moisture lost from the fixed stare.

  “I'm never going to be able to unsee that. . .” he muttered, as he turned to Reva, who had started boiling water on the stove. “What the hell was that?”

  “Sometimes, I like to be watched,” she said, with a wide, toothless smile that grabbed the images of her naked body and thrust them right into Rafe's mind's eye.

  He looked away, looked anywhere but at her, shaking it off. “You planted a seed?!”

  She smiled wider. And he caught it in his periphery, instantly picture her nudity all over again.

  “Serves you right for breaking into an old lady's house!” she said, taking the tea kettle from the flame just as it started to whistle. “Nice work, chaps!” she shouted over to the dvergars, who looked all too pleased with themselves.

  “I know you!” Ana said. “You were at Ambivalence!”

  “Anglyph,” one of them corrected.

  “That's what I said. You climbed up and ate a couple of them down to the bone!” She was, in honesty, as impressed as she was terrified at the concept of tiny creatures having such a powerful and insatiable hunger. Despite the terror, Ana assumed that as long as she stuck with imparting how amazed she was by them, they wouldn't consider her as any kind of snack or next meal. . .

  “S'what we do,” said another. “Gets real hungry.” They wandered over to a cupboard and jumped on each other's shoulders to tug it open, delving inside to find something to eat.

  “Oh, I can attest to that!” Reva said. Every one of her words sent the images of her climax thundering through Rafe's skull all over again.

  “Can we focus here?” he shouted, as he shook off the naked flesh that hung in his head. “Need you to track Lincoln down.”

  “About bloody time,” Reva said, pouring the boiling water into a saucepan, with a selection of herbs and spices, along with a puff of Enenra smoke, Erlking pubis, Abath dandruff and a squirt of white goop from a bottle that had special sauce written in marker.

  Ana considered asking what the special sauce contained, but given the plague of sexual images Rafe was stuck picturing, she figured it was best to let some mysteries remain as such.
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  ”Thought you'd have been round for that ages ago. . .”

  “Why?” Ana asked.

  “Because he's the father, isn't he?”

  “Have you known that. . . all this time?!” Rafe asked, dumbfounded.

  “You didn't?”

  “No!” he shouted, shaking off the images in his head of her writhing back and forth on the bed, the little men hanging on to her loins for dear life as she thrashed about.

  “One thing I don't know is how he, y'know. . .”

  “Yeah.”

  “Had sex with it. . .”

  “On the same page.”

  “It's all gloopy. . .”

  “No need to go on.”

  “Must've been like thrusting at thick soup.”

  “Reva!”

  “Or making whoopee with a jellyfish,” she said, crossing the room.

  “Let's get on track here.”

  “I'm on track, dear.” She opened a cabinet and looked from one teacup and saucer to the next, deep in thought as she went through them all. “Just trying to understand it. . . what kind of person does that? It's not like they even have genitals. . .” Deciding on a cup and saucer, she returned to the kitchen with them in her hand. “Always struck me as an odd one, that Lincoln.” She placed the teacup and saucer in the pot with the ingredients, and turned the heat up.

  “There's a point where magick stops looking like magick,” Ana muttered, “and just looks like a crazy old lady trying to make cup soup.”

  “Crazy old lady can hear you. . .“ Reva grumbled back.

  “He touched it, drank from it,” Rafe explained. “Old Reva has the greatest collection of magickian and magickal folk DNA in the Natural World.” He indicated to the walls, each of them lined with cabinets, each cabinet filled with individual cups and saucers.

  “That's really disconcerting,” Ana whispered.

  “Don't touch or drink anything, and you've got nothing to worry about,” Rafe said, reassuringly, as he covered the coffee table in cling film before laying the map back down over the top of it. The blood and guts of the Teloahs were no longer congealing, now brown and scabby since their deaths. When Reva's soup was ready, she brought it over and let just a single, solitary bead drop on to the map,

 

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