Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1)

by J. L. Gribble

  Kane shouted her name in the distance. She no longer sat on her stool, but instead found herself sprawled on the tile floor. Her left shoulder ached where she’d landed on it. Heat warmed the skin on her cheeks and forehead in marked contrast to the cool floor.

  “Toria!”

  Kane’s hands wrapped around her upper arms and tugged. The strange warmth got hotter, and an odd smell met her nose. Had she mixed some compounds wrong?

  Her eyes shot open when all of the pieces fell together. Kane stood above her, shouting her name and attempting to haul her across the floor. She pushed herself up, banging the top of her head into Kane’s chin. They both yelped in pain.

  Broken glass surrounded her, and the alloy oozed across the floor. Blue flames leapt from the silver liquid, gushing a thick white smoke toward the ceiling. The knife lay discarded nearby, the blade charred and black.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “You tell me!” A note of panic marked Kane’s voice. A screeching noise drowned out the rest of his words when the smoke detector kicked in.

  Toria pushed herself off the floor, ignoring the complaints from her aching body and the ringing in her ears. She must have cracked her head on the floor when she fell, too. She staggered across the kitchen to grab the fire extinguisher off the wall. This was not her first incident. Kane took cover on the other side of the kitchen island when Toria pulled the pin on the extinguisher and sprayed the unnatural blue flames with thick white foam. She had done this too many times.

  The fire went out fast, and Toria thanked her luck that she’d once again not burned down the small apartment building. They surveyed the mess.

  “You have a habit of doing that,” Kane said, pitching his voice over the smoke detector, but calmer in the absence of fire.

  She didn’t have the energy to shout back. The metal extinguisher clanged on the counter where she set it down. She rubbed her sore shoulder and hoped the noxious metallic taste in the air faded soon.

  They stared at the mess of evaporating foam and scorched metal staining the tile floor. With a last disgruntled beep, the smoke detector stopped screaming. “Well, then,” Kane said. “We should probably work on this before the stains set in the tile.”

  “What do you mean, ‘we’?” Toria said. “I’m pretty sure this is my project and my mess. And definitely my fault.”

  “Nah.” Kane pushed up his shirtsleeves. “Once again, we forgot our power doesn’t just double when we work together.”

  “Yeah. It quadruples,” Toria said. She opened a tall cupboard in the corner of the kitchen, revealing their stock of cleaning supplies. “I was so determined to get results. Are you sure it isn’t you who should be the scientist?”

  “Thank gods I’m not.” He caught the roll of paper towels Toria tossed to him. “Let’s pop open all the windows after we’re done here and head out for the afternoon while the air clears.”

  The cleanup went quick, a matter of mopping up foam and soot. Toria shoved the charred knife into a drawer that collected random scraps of metal. “Want to help me again tomorrow? Or do you have another date with what’s-his-name?”

  “I doubt there will be more dates with Duncan,” Kane said. “Oh. There was something else that happened this morning. We were, ah, asked to leave the first restaurant we went to.”

  Toria paused in her scrubbing to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Dress code?” That didn’t seem likely, when she took in Kane’s black slacks and green collared shirt.

  “Nope,” Kane said. “A sign that basically said ‘no nonhumans.’ And since there was a bright flash of blue light when I walked in, I guess mages qualify. Which is ironic, since they were using magic as a detector.”

  Toria stared at him. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Where was this?”

  “Café Lizzette, off Main Street. We ended up at that Castillian place a few blocks down.”

  “Isn’t Café Lizzette owned by Emily Fabbri?” Toria remembered the campaign posters all over downtown—Fabbri had been elected as a human representative to the city council in the last election cycle. Interesting.

  “I think so. We got out of there pretty quick,” Kane said. “But I’m curious to see which mage set that charm. Up for an adventure today?”

  “Definitely,” Toria said. “There aren’t that many mages in Limani, and I want to know who’s selling out.”

  “Me, too,” Kane said. “Between the vampire bans up north and the werecreature segregation in the Roman Colonies down south, we can’t afford that bullshit in Limani.”

  Bullshit indeed. Toria resumed her work on the scorch marks. This was her home, and she adored Limani’s independent spirit. She and Kane might just be college students, but there were few mages in Limani, and they were the only warrior-mage pair. That gave them some pull, and she was going to pull threads and see what unraveled.

  What else was she going to do on summer break beside set fires in her kitchen?

  In simple black script, the sign in front of Café Lizzette read: Humans welcome. Patronage discouraged from all others.

  Toria read the sign a second time, waiting for the meaning to sink in. “But that’s . . . that’s outrageous! Isn’t that illegal?” She turned to Kane. “Please tell me it’s illegal.”

  He leaned against a lamppost and shook his head. “I did some research while you were showering. It’s not. The city council was created with the idea that this sort of prejudice wouldn’t exist, so there aren’t any laws to actually combat that. Awful logic.”

  Toria was about two seconds away from marching into the café. “I don’t understand. The last census showed that barely a fifth of the population was a mage, werecreature, or elven. It’s not like we’re overrunning the place.”

  “To some people, even one is enough.”

  “So Emily Fabbri owns this place? One of the new councilmembers?”

  “Yep,” Kane said. “That’s why I’m worried.”

  “Mama wasn’t happy with the election results.” They stared at the restaurant. Toria’s skin crawled at the notion of this sort of prejudice, especially since the city had almost descended into civil war less than five years ago when the werepanthers sued for fair representation on the council. She knew she’d grown up in the rather rose-tinted world of Limani, but this bordered on ridiculous. Scratch that. Insanity.

  Worry for her mother also itched in the back of her skull. No one had answered at the house when she’d called, which meant they hadn’t made it home last night. She kept telling herself that the boat had been late and the three had been stranded at the docks. It wasn’t like Mikelos not to call them, though.

  “That’s it,” Toria said. “This is so not cool.” She strode forward, reaching the door of the restaurant before Kane could react. A last look over her shoulder before entering revealed that Kane still leaned against the lamppost. Fair enough. He could come to the rescue if this ended in tears.

  The bell above the door rang when she entered, and as Kane had reported, a shimmer of blue light washed over her. She reached out with her own magic to search for a taste of the caster. But a waitress pounced on her right away, breaking her concentration.

  “Hi, I’m Paige, and I’ll be your server today. How many in your party?” She grabbed a handful of menus from a small rack before Toria could answer.

  “Um, just me, thanks. Is Ms. Fabbri available?” Toria attempted to match the girl’s vapid smile and disarming look, wishing for Kane’s better acting skills. She noted the eclectic artwork on the walls. “I’m a local artist and wanted to talk to her about displaying some of my work.”

  “That’s so neat! She’s in her office,” Paige said, replacing the menus. “I’m sure she would love to talk with you! Wait a sec.” The waitress swept back through the restaurant, weaving between tables.

/>   Toria peered out the front window. Kane now lounged on a bench in front of the music shop Mikelos frequented. He slouched, but she knew her partner in and out. One eye was on the restaurant and he was ready to move at the first sign of danger.

  “Can I help you?” The frosty voice prompted Toria to turn back to the dining room. A blonde in her mid-thirties glared at her.

  “Ms. Fabbri?” Toria held out her hand. “My name is—”

  “I know what your name is.” She ignored Toria’s attempt at politeness. “And I know who your mother is. I trust you noticed the sign on your way in?”

  Straight evidence of this woman’s bigotry shook her. She meant every bit of her discrimination. Well, Toria could match that chilliness. “Your sign is what I’d like to speak with you about today, ma’am.” Her parents raised a polite girl, even if this woman didn’t deserve it.

  “Good. Then you’ll realize that not only do I have nothing to talk to you about,” Ms. Fabbri said, “but that you’re also not welcome here, mage.” The title sounded nasty spilling from her lips.

  Any thoughts of civility fled Toria’s mind. “What the hell is your problem, lady?” Her voice rose, and nearby diners were staring.

  “People like you.” Fabbri’s eyes shone with fury. “Freaks who have too much power for their own good, and who lord it over normal humans!”

  Now that was too much. “Lord over what?” Toria said. “When has a nonhuman ever affected your life in any drastic way?”

  “I joined the council so that I could prevent them from abusing their power. But instead I found it was already too late.” Her neglect to answer the question did not escape Toria’s notice.

  “Too late for what?” The woman made less and less sense. “How did you even get elected to the council when you obviously have no idea how it’s run?”

  “I know exactly how it’s run—by representatives of a minority of the population who hold a majority of the power.”

  The bell above the door jangled when a new patron entered the restaurant, but Toria paid the new arrival no heed. She didn’t have the patience to remind Fabbri that those minority representatives cast votes worth half those of the human district representatives. Every high school civics student knew that. “If you’re this nuts, the council’s going to kick you out ’cause of your own stupidity.” She started when a heavy hand landed on her right shoulder. She twisted her head, startled to see one of Limani’s finest frowning down at her.

  “What seems to be the problem here?” For once, the phrase didn’t seem quite so cliché. The police officer looked stern.

  Fabbri beamed at him. “Thank goodness you arrived in time, officer,” she said. “As you heard, this young woman entered my establishment to threaten me.”

  Toria’s temper itched to spill out, but she bit her tongue. She’d been set up. The charm had alerted Fabbri, who must have called the cops before she even left her office.

  His hand felt heavier on her shoulder, fingers digging into her skin. “I did indeed hear that. Perhaps the young lady and I need to have a talk about respect. And your name is?”

  “She’s Toria Connor.” Fabbri answered before Toria could even open her mouth. “She’s the daughter of the Master of the City.”

  Frown deepening even more, the officer said, “I see. The daughter of such an upstanding member of the city should understand that she needs to set a good example for her peers.”

  “Then I will leave her in your capable hands, sir.” Now Fabbri was just was simpering. “I need to attend to my customers.”

  Toria was disgusted. Her hands clenched into fists, and she fought back every instinct to throw up a shield and repel the policeman.

  “Of course, ma’am.” His grip tightened another fraction on Toria’s shoulder. “Allow me to escort her out.”

  The grip released, and he nudged her forward. Toria held her head high as she preceded the cop toward the exit. Paige the waitress stood in her spot next to the menus, jaw hanging open. Toria ignored her.

  First she almost blew up her apartment. And now she might get arrested. At least Kane was outside, not in here with her stupidity.

  Mama is going to kill me.

  Kane had come to Toria’s rescue, as usual, and scrounged up both the best and worst possible adult to get her out of this mess. Dr. Lena Joensen, dean of Jarimis University, where Toria and Kane had both just finished their sophomore years. She was the second dean of Limani’s local university, personally picked to succeed the founder, Victory’s progeny Jarimis. And since Jarimis University included students from both the British and Roman colonies, the dean maintained one of the unelected city council seats along with Victory. She’d also taken a personal interest in the education of the young pair. When Kane had showed up at the small police station with Dean Joensen in tow, the police released Toria into her care after a lecture on “appropriate public behavior” and “representing her mother in public.”

  Now Toria and Kane leaned against each other on a bench outside the station while the dean finished filling out paperwork inside. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been arrested, the damage was done. The few cops and visitors in the station now knew the Master of the City’s daughter had been there. Rumors would spread.

  “Thanks, hon,” Toria said after soaking in her partner’s calming presence.

  He tilted his head and kissed her temple. “Still couldn’t reach Victory or Mikelos at the house.”

  At last, Dean Joensen exited the station and sank onto the bench on Toria’s other side. Toria forced herself to look at the dean. But the older woman stared across the parking lot, her expression unreadable, as she brushed an errant silver lock behind her ear.

  “Um . . . I’m sorry?” Toria knew it wasn’t enough. Another potential rumor: Dean Joensen bailed out a simple university student because she was the daughter of the Master of the City. Talk about favoritism. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper. But she set me up.”

  “No harm done, Toria. You’re not in any permanent trouble.”

  “People will talk.”

  “So let them talk. We can hope the smart ones will wonder what happened and see the sign on the restaurant.” Dean Joensen patted Toria’s knee. “And that those same smart ones will start to rethink who they have elected to Limani’s ruling council.”

  Now she began to get it. “You don’t like her either, do you? That’s why you came when Kane called.”

  “I was given a seat on the city council after I became dean of Jarimis University,” Dean Joensen said. “Because so many of the students are citizens of the Roman and British Empires. I’m their voice while they live in our city, another check on Limani’s neutral position between the two colonies. Jarimis never sat on the council because Victory already had a seat, and many people couldn’t distinguish Jarimis the dean from Jarimis the vampire. I’ve always followed your mother’s example of quiet neutrality. But I wasn’t about to ignore Kane’s call for help. I suppose I’ve finally backed myself into a corner.”

  “Because your spot on the council is permanent.” Toria compared her recent experience with scattered memories. “Mama has complained about that same thing. It looks like you guys have a lot of power because you weren’t elected, but at the same time, you can’t make too many waves because otherwise you’ll be accused of abusing your power. That’s what Ms. Fabbri was harping about.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You would have come for any student who called,” Kane said.

  “But not two students such as yourselves. Not Limani’s warrior-mage pair, who happen to both be children of current and former councilmembers,” Dean Joensen said. “Did you know that Victory and I have only seen each other once outside of the council chamber since Jarimis died? For your parents’ funeral, Kane.”

  “Have things gotten so bad that
two councilmembers can’t even socialize without suspicion?” Kane said. “Mom and Victory used to see each other all the time, even before Toria and I bonded.”

  “The problems picked up when your parents passed away. You both have taken Legacy of the Modern World, yes?”

  Toria and Kane heaved identical sighs. “Yeah,” Toria said, “we got it out of the way our first semester.”

  Dean Joensen laughed. She knew full well that Toria preferred her science courses and that Kane would live in the literature department if he could. “Not your favorite class, was it?”

  “Give me a scientific equation any day,” Toria said. “Don’t ask me why some jerk two hundred years ago did what he did.”

  “I’ll try not to,” Dean Joensen said. “But you know why the existence of Limani is so important.”

  The small city-state of Limani on the New Continent had been founded as a Greek colony, modeled after the multiple Greek city-states that funded the expedition. Less than ten years later, the last major Roman expansion had swallowed all vestiges of the independent Greek cities. Now either empire to the north or south could use their colonial forces to take over the city by moving in a few battalions of soldiers and announcing they were now in control. Limani’s regular military defense consisted of the handful of civic police officers, the small branch of the local Mercenary’s Guild dedicated to Limani independence, and one former mercenary playing politics as the Master of the City.

  But the tiny city-state acted as a neutral zone between the two territories. The city was situated where the safe zone outside the Wasteland bottle-necked at the coast between the north and south, barely fifty miles away. Any hostile act by either side could once again result in all-out destruction, with Limani at ground zero.