The Leira Chronicles- The Complete Austin Series

by Martha Carr

  “Way ahead of you. I saw how the chipmunk was putting away the fries.” The waiter put down the tray and set two plates in front of Hagan and the troll. “Does your friend need a fork or is he good with his paws. Doesn’t seem to have a thumb or anything.”

  “He’s good.” Hagan held up his hand and the bartender went back to the game, occasionally stealing glances over his shoulder.

  “Here, let me help you take off your outfit. I know how this goes. We can hose you off in the bathroom sink afterwards.”

  Hagan carefully folded the leather jacket and put it on top of the boots, pushing the extra plate of barbeque toward the troll.

  Yumfuck took a deep breath and opened his mouth wide, spreading his arms and dove into the hot meat, letting out a satisfied trill as he swam down the middle, made a turn on his back and swam the other way pushing his arms out to the sides, his mouth still open.

  “How do you do that and swallow?”

  The troll ignored him and pushed on as Hagan tried to take a bite from his plate, transfixed by the troll. “I want to look away…”

  The troll rolled over, his belly rounded and stuck out his tongue, licking the plate till it was clean. He stood up, his fur covered in deep brown barbeque sauce, blinking to keep the sauce from dripping into his eyes. Hagan rolled him up in two napkins and carried him to the men’s room just past the Galaga arcade game as the troll stretched out his arms, trying to reach the controls.

  “After we wash you off. Right now, you’re five inches of hazmat.” Hagan looked at the old, chipped sink and the separate faucets for hot and cold. “Sorry about this little guy. The hot is way too hot.” He turned on the cold and held the troll underneath, rinsing off the sauce as the troll shivered. With his fur wet he looked even smaller except for his extended belly. Yumfuck shook his head, shaking out his green hair as Hagan gathered up a pile of brown paper towels, patting down the troll.

  “Not too bad. Was it worth it?”

  “Yumfuck!” The troll gave two thumbs up.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  They stopped at the game on the way back to the bar. The troll was standing on Hagan’s shoulder and the bartender leaned out far enough to catch a glimpse and gave a shrug. He went to give an old man who came in and sat down at the far end of the bar a beer without even a greeting. Barfly’s was like that. Everyone who came in was a regular.

  “This was one of my favorite games back in the day. Not even called a video game. We called them arcades back then. Lots of people had to all come together in a place in the mall to play these things. We’d crowd around somebody when they had a hot game going and cheer ‘em on. You got to even put your initials in. I lived for this shit. Would save up all my change from delivering newspapers. Don’t say, what’s a newspaper. Too soon. Too soon, little buddy.” Hagan shook his head.

  “How do you play it?”

  “You take the left arrow key right there and I’ll take the right one. See that spaceship at the bottom of the screen? When you jump on the left arrow the spaceship will go left. We’ll have to work together. Our common enemy is a giant insect that flies down and tries to bomb us. It’s a lot like my job lately. We shoot the insect and destroy all of them and we can get to the next level where it gets harder and we do it all over again.”

  “Start her up!”

  Hagan put the troll down on the left button and started the game. The giant insect flew across the top of the screen and dove toward the spaceship. “Jump! Jump!”

  The troll let out a squeal of laughter and leaped up and down, moving the ship as Hagan worked the right button. The bartender leaned out again and half smiled, shaking his head. “Wherever you can find some joy, dude.” He went back to the game, swearing at the referee.

  “Jump…now!”

  A bomb managed to find its target and the spaceship exploded with a flash of light and sound.

  “Sumofabitch!” The troll shook his little fists, still jumping up and down on the button.

  “I taught you that one, didn’t I?” Hagan patted his chest with pride.

  He pushed the button to start the game again as three large guys came in, talking loudly and making jokes about the decor.

  “Hey barkeep,” yelled one of them, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off to better show off his tattoos. He pounded on the bar with his open palm, startling the old man. Hagan let the insect quickly win the game and glanced over to see what the men would do next. The troll let out a disappointed squeak but noticed where Hagan was watching and turned his attention, hopping up on Hagan’s shoulder.

  “Trouble,” he squeaked. “Dumb shits with muscle, worst kind.”

  “I’d have to agree.”

  The man behind his friend at the bar stepped up to the corner of the bar, flexing his large, muscular arms as he grabbed the edges of the bar with both hands, shaking it as hard as he could, rattling the plates and Yumfuck’s boots. The old man quickly picked up his beer as it sloshed around in the glass. He still didn’t look directly at the men.

  That didn’t stop them from coming up behind, surrounding him as one of them stuck his finger in his mouth and put it in the beer, swishing it around. The bartender leaned under the bar for his bat and brought it up. “Don’t want any trouble, dudes. This is a peaceful establishment.”

  The third man quickly leaped over the bar, sending one of the plates flying to the floor where it broke into pieces. Yumfuck watched the fries scatter along the floor as his fur ruffled along his neck. The bartender swung the bat as the man grabbed it with both hands, grinning with tobacco stained teeth. He pulled it out of the bartender’s hands and leaned it on his shoulder standing behind the bar.

  “Time to do something about this shit, Yumfuck. I’m not a cop anymore. Don’t necessarily have to follow the rules. Of course, I’m not a complete dick. Won’t shoot first, ask questions later. That’s Berens. Okay, it’s you and me, Yumfuck.”

  “Yumfuck!” The troll growled, jumping down to the floor, marching ahead of Hagan as he neared the bullies.

  The men were all looking across at Hagan and didn’t see the troll.

  “We have another player in the game, ladies!”

  “You look a little long in the tooth, Grandpa. You sure you want to pay to play?”

  The three goons were smiling, jostling each other and knocking against the old man at the bar who was doing his best to ignore them, his hands shaking around his beer. The bartender was backed against the far wall and eyeing the old phone near his head. The man with the bat spotted where he was looking and took a bat to the phone, sending the parts flying. Hagan kept moving forward, the troll right in front of him, cracking his knuckles letting out a tiny belch.

  “Let’s kick some ass…” His voice came out in a low rumble. He pulled out the weighted billy club he kept in his pocket for emergencies.

  The three men laughed and snorted as one of them punched his fist hard into his hand, leering at Hagan. One of them squinted at the back of Hagan’s jacket. “What does that say? PDA? Public display of affection?”

  Hagan got close enough to the bar to protect the bartender and the old man and yelled, “Now!”

  The troll let out a roar, shaking the tin roofing on the wall as he grew tall enough to brush his head against the ceiling, his claws extended, his teeth bared. Hagan stepped forward and put himself between the men and the old man at the bar and took a swing at the meathead in the flannel shirt, landing a punch squarely on the man’s nose, knocking him back as a trail of blood splattered in the air.

  The troll took a menacing step forward, dragging his claws along the front of the bar, leaving deep ruts as the wood paneling made long curls that fell to the floor. He let out another roar, hot steamy air blowing into the men’s faces as spit hung from his fangs. “Come on, motherfuckers,” roared the troll.

  “See, now that’s a proper use of the word.” Hagan smiled at the men, shaking his hand. “Still got it. Didn’t even need the billy club.”

>   The smiles dropped from the two other men as they picked up their friend and dragged him, stumbling toward the exit. Hagan noticed one of them had peed, a wet stain down one leg.

  “Don’t ever come back!” The bartender shook his fist in the air.

  The troll shrunk down to his regular size, his fur still standing up on his neck. Hagan reached down and held out his hand as Yumfuck climbed on board, depositing the troll on the bar.

  “You did good. I owe you doughnuts from Voodoo.”

  The troll ran to his boots and jacket, gathering his things. “Pissed me off when they messed with my boots.”

  The bartender’s mouth hung open as he looked at the little troll talking. “Gotta cut out the weed too,” he muttered. He put out his hand to Hagan. “Tonight’s on me. Let me get you more fries and you and your little freaky pal are welcome in here anytime. Happy hour prices whenever you show up. That was legendary and will keep those hairless apes out of here for good. They’ve been causing trouble for weeks!” The bartender was still talking up a storm as he walked back to the kitchen.

  “Hope the talking doesn’t become a habit.” Hagan looked at the troll and shrugged. “I kind of liked the quiet. You okay, sir? Let me buy you another beer.” Hagan leaned forward to get a better look at the man and his eyes widened. He was holding a wand.

  “I was about to send them flying when the troll saved me from breaking the rules on magic. Was just thinking it’d be worth it to shut those assholes up. Can’t an old Wizard just get a quiet beer anymore?”

  “I hear you, man. Let me buy your next one.” Hagan was pulling out his wallet when he noticed the two girls by the pool tables. “They must have come in when we were playing Galaga.” The girls were nervously laughing and looking down at their phones as Hagan’s face grew ashen. “Fuck me and the damn millennials with their phones. Berens is not going to take this well. I don’t suppose you’d delete that?” He waved at the girls who looked embarrassed even as they rolled their eyes.

  “So, that’s a no then.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It had been a while since General Anderson was out in the field. The call had come in and there was no time to reach Agent Berens and get her to Washington. At least that’s what he told himself. I can handle human beings running amok, even if they’ve got magical artifacts on them. This has all gone far enough. “Not my first damn rodeo,” he muttered.

  “What’s that sir?” Alan Cohen leaned forward to try and hear what the general was saying.

  “Nothing.” The general shook his head, holding up his hand. He held on to the strap just inside the helicopter as they flew over the Smithsonian Zoo in restricted air space. It was the shortest route to Rock Creek Park and time was of the essence. The helicopter touched down near the Riley Spring Bridge, flood lights turning the night into day illuminating a popular running trail.

  The park was closed since dusk but the general had gotten qualified information that there was a worthwhile artifact in the park, left there during the time of the Civil War when the park was full of grist mills and Lincoln was known to walk through there on a shortcut to his son’s grave. Corporate goons were seen moving into the area to retrieve the item. That just chaps me five ways to Sundays to think of an American relic getting tossed around for profit. Throw these asshats under the courthouse.

  He unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out of the helicopter, instinctively ducking as the rotors slowed. “Span out around the perimeter. Make sure none of the ground has been disturbed anywhere.”

  “Alright, let’s go.” Alan took the lead and directed the search parties into different directions. He had an uneasy feeling about the entire operation as soon as they landed and there was no sign of anyone. Either the artifact was already gone or their information was bad. Both options would be bad news.

  Lois and Patsy spilled out of a black SUV, their wands at the ready. “I don’t know what the general hopes we can find. These aren’t divining rods. We don’t point them at things and take readings.” Patsy looked flustered, brushing back her hair and finally giving up, using her wand to pull it back into a bun.

  Lois looked around and spotted the general at the edge of the bright lights peering into the darkness. She grabbed Patsy’s hand, pushing up her glasses with the other, still holding onto her wand. “Come on, let’s go get our marching orders. General, we’re here!”

  The general turned around, a tense smile coming to his face. “Good! You can trace magic being used, correct?” He didn’t wait for an answer even as Patsy and Lois both nodded their heads. “Scan the area to see if you can pick up on anything. We need all hands-on deck to stop these corporate raids. I’ve had enough and in my own goddamned backyard!”

  Patsy and Lois stole a look at each other. They had never seen the general so worked up. “The boss needs us. Let’s get to work,” whispered Lois. “You take the right side and I’ll go left. Send up a small flare if you find anything and I’ll come running.”

  “If it’s a bunch of human beings digging around in the dirt for something magical there may not be a trail to find.”

  “I know that as well as you do but we have to try. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  The Witches spread out, scanning the area for a sparkling trail of residue but found nothing. The search parties walked only arm length apart, slowly scanning with flashlight and covering every square inch of ground but there was no sign of overturned earth. Digs in the area based on the intel had specified they only found the remains of someone’s beloved pet.

  “Nothing,” hissed the general, angrily taking off his hat and slapping it against his leg. “We’ve been had, but good.”

  “General, there’s a call coming in for you over the secure line.” Alan Cohen handed him the phone, a grim look on his face. The general already knew what they were going to tell him.

  “Where was it?”

  The aide on the other end of the phone gave the data as efficiently as possible, ignoring the angry muttering. It was a loss. “Harlem in upper Manhattan. The bad intel was close.”

  “Any good lie needs to be,” spit out the general.

  “It was full of our history but wrong era. It was from the American Revolution, and the Battle of Harlem Heights where General Washington had his first win against the British. The victors are already crowing about it on the dark web but we haven’t been able to figure out who they are just yet. We picked up a few but turns out they were posers wanting to get in on the celebration.”

  “They will have moved it several times by now. Dammit! Do we at least know what the good goddamn it was?”

  “The chatter is saying it was a map of the area from thousands of years ago made from the hide of an animal and very powerful. It was in someone’s basement hidden in a wall. Historical building and protected from demolition. Bricks finally needed repointing and they found it preserved in its case. He put it up on eBay. Dumb motherfucker. A Wizard who lives nearby paid him a few hundred dollars and started an auction of his own. That’s why they needed the cover to distract us. The auction was tonight. They were worried we’d say national security and take it from them.”

  “They were right.”

  “The winning bid came from a corporate source. A grouping. That’s all we know so far, sir.”

  “One big FUBAR. Get me the source who fed us this bullshit so expertly.”

  “He’s in the wind, sir. Can’t tell if he’s dead or alive, or if he knew what he was doing or not but he’s gone.”

  The general hung up without saying goodbye, handing the phone back to Alan.

  “There needs to be some changes. We’re not winning enough of these races. Get Agent Berens on the phone. I’ve had enough of playing this one by the rules, even if we’re the dumb fuckers who made up the rules.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Room 302 in the Driskill Hotel was repaired to look the same as it was before the world in between opened up spilling out some of its contents. The window frame was rest
ored and the furniture that was singed in strange burn patterns with long, thin black lines was sanded down and repaired. The carpet was too far gone, covered in a strange slime no one could explain and nothing would remove. It was stripped out of the room and replaced with the same color, same texture as if nothing out of the ordinary ever occurred there.

  But, things happen that are a little trickier to repair. The veil between the world of the living and the world in between was stretched thin in places and didn’t snap back. The word was spreading throughout the world in between and dark creatures slinked around the site, checking in, hoping for another tear to set them loose.

  The world in between wasn’t letting go that easily. Magical creatures trapped inside found their way to the room, pressing up against the veil and gesturing wildly to the guests who naively slept there. More than one quickly packed all their belongings, marching up to the front desk, demanding a different room. Others just complained about a constant chill in the air no matter what they set the thermostat to. The maids whispered to each other that there was something just not quite right about the room and would shudder, arguing about whose turn it was to clean.

  The room was left without a guest most of the time, it was easier. A maid pushing her cart down the hall heard sizzling and popping through the door, and she carefully placed her ear closer as the sound grew louder. She looked around to see if anyone else was nearby and heard it too. No one. She got out the key card and held it close to the door, hesitating as the sound died away. She leaned in to listen again. Nothing.

  She pushed the cart away quickly, letting it go, not wanting to be there if something else happened that she couldn’t ignore.

  A portal from Oriceran opened wide and Harry stepped through, sinking his boots into the carpet. He was a young half Wizard, half Light Elf who made his living as a scavenger and prided himself on going to any lengths to get what he wanted. “Never taking a half measure. That gets you nowhere.” It was his mantra.