Magic & Mayhem

by Susan Conley

  The barren stretch of road where the skyway leveled out, imploded under the impact. The concrete tumbled, and the cars rose and fell as the skyway buckled.

  The car ahead of Mona was hit by the car in front of it as the sedan slid back. Mona sat back up and crossed her arms in front of her face a moment before her airbag exploded.

  Fuck, that hurt.

  The car swayed along with the overpass, but her section remained aloft. As the jostling slowed, the airbag deflated and she could see again.

  The blade stuck straight up in the dusk tinted sky, the road on either side gone.

  If she hadn’t sent the Jeep careening across the road, and there hadn’t already been a snarl-up, more cars would have been on the collapsed section.

  The Jeep.

  As if her thoughts had conjured them, the goons climbed up from the askew section in front of her. Dust swirling around them, they pulled their guns out of their holsters. Whoever had sent them was determined to end Mona’s interference.

  Mona saw the second part of the spell too late to save them. The same summoning whirlpool of magic she’d seen at the mall formed, giving her an ill feeling about what was coming next. This time, though, she knew where to look and could see sequence of runes and sigils. The mage had set the spell to pull the Weres and their innate magic back, whether or not they survived the shift.

  With all her heart she wished she could change the spell, erase it from being, but the linkage between the runes and sigils was too complex for her to manipulate without risking getting sucked in as well. This time she could see the coils of magic strengthening the spell and giving it the energy needed to change the men. She also saw some type of shield so mortals wouldn’t see this aspect of the working. Why the mage who had set this wanted to hide from mortals was something to consider later.

  A tentacle of magic wrapped itself around each man. Their bodies jerked at the contact. As soon as she realized what was going to happen, Mona closed her eyes and ducked under the dash.

  She could imagine all too well the mutant change of their bodies, followed by the evisceration of their innate magical energy once they were stuck half-man, half-beast and defenseless against the creator of the spell. Someone was harvesting the power of the failed change. The idea was sick.

  Nausea roiled and she lost the fight with her stomach. Fumbling to unbuckle her seatbelt, she shoved the car door open and lost what little contents her stomach had on the ice-laden blacktop as sleet pelted her head and back.

  Who could force Weres to change like this?

  Why was he then harvesting the failed attempts?

  What the hell had the power to make such a working—or even knew it could be done? Suddenly being shot by the spell caster’s henchmen seemed minor compared to the evisceration of the Weres.

  Dammit, Raine was right. They needed to track this person down and stop him, not wait for him to continue creating spells that killed Weres. And she still needed to find her friend.

  Of course, she had to get out of this alive first. But the pavement was still unstable and she was still in too much pain to move. All she could do was wait.

  Finally summoning the courage to look out the front windshield, Mona discovered the chunk of concrete that the pair of spelled Weres had stood on was gone. She doubted anyone with Folk abilities had survived the second part of the spell. Her vision blurred when she realized how close she’d come to being in that group. Somehow her unique ability to have spells slide over her had kept her safe, even though she had Folk blood.

  Shivers wracked her body.

  Pulling out the emergency and stadium blankets from the fateful kit from the mall, she bundled under them.

  • • •

  “Stay in your cars.”

  Someone was shouting instructions through a bullhorn. She rubbed her eyes. Darkness was rapidly falling across the steel-clouded sky. Red and orange lights strobed across the gutted landscape and flashed in her rear view mirror. Another blinked from the cubby in her dashboard.

  How had she forgotten she had a phone? Picking up her mobile, she saw eight missed calls and no messages. Every one from her brother.

  She tried to reach him, but her call went straight to voice mail. Her phone blinked a warning; the battery was getting low.

  He must have been at work and close to the collapse; his office in the federally-owned building wasn’t too far away. He'd been close enough to know she was in danger. Just like the time she'd been placed in the wrong group at a Taekwondo match and he'd shown up after racing across the college campus due to a feeling she was in peril.

  The bullhorn, closer now, repeated the instructions from the safety of the ground below the skyway.

  “Please remain in your cars. Help is on the way. We will come to you. If you can hear this message, turn your hazard lights on. Please remain in your cars.”

  Gradually Mona became aware that Folk were helping in the rescue effort. Not just any Folk, but a full elf if her reading of the magic was correct. Unlike the nastiness of the spell on the Weres, this was warm, sunny, and grieving with every life lost. The only person she was aware of who might feel that way was the Maven, the ruler of Folk in the area, although Smythe had never introduced Mona to her.

  The storm had passed and the wind finally died down when she felt the Maven’s touch directly. It was an odd feeling. Somehow she felt both comforted, like someone had rubbed her shoulders, and uncomfortable, like the person’s hand was too hot for her body to handle. Something about it reminded her vaguely of Nic, but she couldn’t say why. Her brain was far too fuzzy to figure it out, despite the little bit of self-healing ability she had, and the sensation passed quickly enough that she began to wonder if she’d felt it at all.

  Very soon a rescue worker made it to her car. After a quick check of her vitals, it was determined she could probably walk herself down, with aid of course.

  At the bottom of the ramp she was checked over by a nurse and gave a heavily edited statement to the police. Released, she settled in a corner of the tent and tried Nic again.

  “You get out okay?” was his greeting when he answered the phone.

  “Yeah, thanks. How did you know I was in the collapse?”

  “Just knew.” He shrugged off the ability as if it was nothing. Something was going on; he’d never been this blasé about anything that might be tied to his Elf heritage. “You okay going back to your place tonight?”

  And he definitely sounded like he didn’t want her at the house. Unable to worry about it now, she added this bit of information to her long list of things to examine later. Along with the Maven being there and explaining the lack of remnants of her assailants.

  “Yep.” Well, no, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Okay, call me in the morning if there’s anything you need,” he said, adding softly, “Glad to hear you’re okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  She heard the vague mumbling of a female voice in the background. Her curiosity would have been more sparked if she’d had any energy for it.

  Mona tried Raine again. No answer. She called and left a message at the Buffalo pack leader’s house, telling them to contact her immediately, but not giving details. Past time she let them know, in hindsight she'd been foolish to promise Raine not to say anything. The pack could be compromised given how many spelled Weres she’d run into. She left a less harshly-worded message on Raine’s aunt Betty’s voice mail as well. Despite the frantic worry over where Raine was and how she was doing, Mona didn’t know who else to reach out to. Except the Warder. She should let Smythe know what she’d seen. But uneasiness settled in her stomach again, a sign she’d learned to pay attention to. There was definitely something off with Smythe, until she knew what it was she hesitated to contact him.

  When had her life gotten so complicated? She rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes, trying to focus, realizing her face had a bit of rug burn from the airbag deploying.

  Opening her eyes a
gain, she realized she didn’t have anywhere to stay tonight. Or any way to get there.

  There were a couple of last resort options, like Raine's Aunt Betty, but she didn’t want to call in those favors. Crappy end to a crappy day, it looked like.

  Mona wrapped her sore side securely in the blanket one of the workers had given her, knowing the warmth would help, and looked around the area near the triage tents, on the slight chance she knew someone. Worse came to worst, she’d take the first aid workers up on their offer of help.

  No luck.

  No, wait; a glimmer of a spell caught her eye. At one of the columns, at the very edge of the wreckage, stood a group of Folk, hidden behind a diversionary spell and examining bits of magic.

  She could only hope they were the good guys; it certainly seemed that way from their actions. Either way she should head over. Her ribs and shoulder ached with each step she took. Damn, she’d been hit hard, possibly even fractured her shoulder if she still had this much pain hours later. Somehow she’d managed to hide it from her original rescuers and the nurse at the foot of the skyway, although she didn’t remember intentionally doing so. Exiting the tent, she assured the women monitoring the victims she had a ride home. She only hoped it was true.

  The Folk continued to work until she got quite close. Ah, the edge of a spell. Mona looked it over. Yes, it would let her through just fine. She stepped across and all activity stopped.

  A row of unwelcoming, but not necessarily unfriendly faces turned toward her.

  One man, the one she’d seen directing things, stepped forward. Were, she was pretty sure; she had no energy to spare to read him. He was quite tall. Mona, at five six, could fit under his chin with a bit of room. Even in the bulky clothes, he looked powerful and sleek, reminding her of a prowling cat. Mona wondered if he, unlike the three men she’d seen forced to change, was a strong-blooded Were, and could turn into his den’s totem at any time. Somehow she thought he could, despite being unable to check.

  She hoped she was never put in the situation where they would find that out.

  “You are?” His strong Brooklyn accent threw Mona for second.

  “You’re from New York?”

  He remained silent, but a small grin teased the corner of his mouth.

  “Oh, right.” She executed a short half bow, no saying how much protocol he expected. She bit back on the hiss of pain the movement caused her shoulder and ribs. Stupid, stupid of her. “I am Mona Lisa Kubreck, trainee to Warder Smythe.”

  The group behind him eased their stance, although he stayed still.

  “I’m Were Protector and Trainer Josiah Carthage Dupree of the New York Were Training Center. Welcome.”

  “I think I’m supposed to welcome you, since you’re in my territory.” The thought slipped out before she could think it through.

  The smile almost broke out then, but was suppressed. His brow arched, as if querying whether she was going to do so.

  A wave of exhaustion hit her and she steeled herself from swaying on her feet. As much fun as all this was—not—she was too tired to be tactful anymore. “Right. Welcome. Thanks for coming, glad you’re here. Look, do you have a way to get out of here? I’m stuck without a ride, since my car is up there.” She gestured with her free arm at the wreckage of the ramp.

  The playful light left his face, replaced by a “don’t give anything away” mask she knew too well from her brother Nic. Well, at least they’d gotten past the careful banter.

  “I’ll take you. Tiffany, you’re in charge until I get back. Hyram, I want you to continue to look for any signs of Folk.”

  “Try a little further up, by where that triangular piece of roadway is missing,” she said, gesturing. “I know two Weres were blown away by the spell there.”

  Another inscrutable look from the Protector. Without taking his eyes off her, he waved at his group. “Take Menlo and go. Be careful. You’ll be out of the spelled area.”

  He walked up to her, then past. “Let’s go.”

  Mona didn’t move. He realized it when he turned to ask her something and she wasn’t there.

  Scowling now, he came back. The man did have an expressive face; she briefly wondered how he’d look with a smile. With a sensual mouth, medium brown hair with blond streaks, and tawny eyes, probably too darn fine for his own good.

  She really needed to get some sleep. Her exhaustion heightened her attraction to him. Tiredness made her defenses low, she needed distance before she did anything stupid. Like jump in his bed. Sleeping with a Were, this Were, would be a colossal mistake. They were far too dominant and controlling and she liked doing things her own way. He was already acting as if there were one set of rules for him and a different one for her. That was so not going to happen

  “What?” he asked once he’d crossed the spell line again.

  “Either you use that damn protocol you had me go through or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways, formal one minute and then so informal, you’re rude the next.”

  A short silence, then, “Would you please come with me? I can take you out of here.”

  “Yes, thank you. I appreciate your offer.”

  Mona would have swept off, but she was too tired to do more than stagger. He grabbed her unencumbered elbow with a muttered, “Let me do the honors.”

  If she had thought about it, she would have realized there would be a long walk. The group was on the lake side of the skyway and any cars would have to be on the far side.

  They’d made it past the collapsed inner lanes of the skyway when he spoke again. “You’re wrong, you know.”

  “About?”

  “About the protocol. It’s a tool—one you need to learn how to use and manipulate. Most of the time, it’s not an either/or situation, but a ‘what will serve me best’ one.”

  “I see, so using it to find out the full name of a person in a possibly hostile situation is okay, but not using it to aid that same person isn’t? Which justifies being uncivil? Something’s wrong there.”

  He muttered something about her not having seen uncivil yet. She pretended she couldn’t hear him.

  “I know you want to query me on how I came to be on the bridge, what I saw, and more. I hope, though, you can wait until I get some sleep.”

  “No, I can’t, trainee. There’s definitely something wrong going on with the Buffalo pack and I’ve been called in to find out what it is. I’ll have an imp help you make a memory ball when we’re in a secure place.”

  “I doubt it’ll be complete, since I can barely remember my name.”

  “That’s fine. I’d rather have it now, before you process what occurred too much, than after you’ve slept and your memory has already changed.”

  Man, she hated losing the argument, but knew he was right.

  “Can we do it in the car then? Is your place far?”

  He halted. “You’re inviting yourself to my place?”

  This time she was the one who kept on walking, forcing him to catch up, fighting the images of the two of them in bed. This was insane. She never reacted like this before.

  “I’m not sure if the two guys I saw on the skyway were the same two who staked out my place last night. Plus there’s something screwy going on at the Warder’s complex, although Smythe tells me everything’s okay. Not to mention every single Folk I’ve seen controlled by the magic has been Were, so heading over to the Pack House in Lackawanna is out. And that doesn’t even cover what’s going on with my friend Raine. Or my brother.”

  Mona wasn’t sure why she threw in that last bit, except it seemed to fit.

  “You do have somewhere you’re all staying, don’t you?” she asked. “The Maven—I’m guessing she’s the one who set this up—surely arranged a place for you to stay. Or are you just crashing with the Buffalo Were pack? Although, since I’m pretty sure some of them are involved with this, you may not want to do that. And Maven’s place is somewhere near Dunkirk, in the wine country—that’s a good hour or more, too far to
be useful, I’d think. No, there’s got to be somewhere close you’re staying.”

  Oh no, she was babbling and couldn’t seem to stop. Something had made her nervous.

  Right, the frisson of excitement that had raced through her when he’d asked if she was inviting herself to his place. Her mind had somehow imbued his simple question with sexual overtone.

  Man, she really needed to sleep.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, you’re inviting yourself to my place.”

  “Right.” She clamped her lips shut.

  Chapter Four

  “Trainee.”

  Someone shook her shoulder. She batted at the hand.

  “Trainee Mona Lisa,” the female voice said.

  She knew she grumbled something less than polite. She hated being called Mona Lisa. Mona was fine, thank you. The hand was back. She jerked her shoulder away and rolled into the back cushions of the couch.

  A new voice, a male one, sexy yet irritating, said, “I got it, Tiff.”

  Silence and stillness at last. Mona snuggled back under the covers.

  Which were immediately yanked off. “Mona, get up now.”

  She bolted upright and off the couch. She swayed, her not-quite-healed ribs protesting the sudden movement. Protector Dupree held her elbow while she regained her balance. She pulled her arm out of his grasp, irritated at the urge to lean on him. “What?”

  “You’ve got an imp waiting,” Protector Dupree said, gesturing to the hovering spark of pure magic. He was up and dressed and distracting.

  “Oh?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the blue sparkler. This was the first time she’d ever had one appear with a message for her. It was one thing to find them hiding in lights or zipping by as they did magic, quite another to have the sparkling shimmer of one hovering in your face. A faint hope stirred that it might be from Raine, but it was quickly squashed. No way would her friend have access to one.

  Coffee. She needed coffee. She’d ask for some but somehow she didn’t think the man would humor her. Protector Dupree stood at her other side, nearly as close as the imp. Disconcertingly close given sleep had not accomplished what she hoped and diminished her attraction to him. A step to the side, and she felt better. The imp merely moved along with her.