by RJ Blain
I staggered to my door, wiping the sleep out of my eyes, still dressed in yesterday’s clothing. Mr. Perron was tapping his foot, slapping a pad of papers against his leg. For a little old Asian man, Mr. Perron somehow rocked the pin striped Italian Mafia look from the 1920s, complete with a cigar dangling from his mouth. I couldn’t help but imagine him with a gun in one hand and a whiskey tumbler in the other.
“Never thought you’d get dogs,” Mr. Perron said, thrusting the papers and a pen at me. I took them, scanning over the lease for the changes. Instead of the five hundred extra I had expected, he was only charging me four fifty on top of my regular rent. I signed before he could change his mind and handed them back.
“They’re co-stars,” I explained, masking a yawn behind my hand. “Their handler was an idiot, so I’m taking them in for a while.”
“Movie dogs?” Mr. Perron’s eyes brightened with curiosity.
I opened the door a little wider and whistled for Rocky and Silver, hoping they’d understand the universal command for ‘get your furry butts over here.’ Both came barreling out of my bedroom, tails wagging and tongues lolling out of their mouths. “The larger one is Rocky, and his brother is Silver. They’re German shepherds.”
Mr. Perron whistled, tearing off some sheets from the stack of papers. “Big for shepherds. Gorgeous animals, Miss Thomas. Here’s your lease.”
Armed with the papers ensuring I’d be pinching pennies more than usual for the next few months, I waved farewell to my landlord and retreated into my apartment. Any other day, I would have gone straight back to bed, but the dogs couldn’t use my bathroom and I didn’t want to clean their messes off of my floor. Grumbling, I grabbed my cell phone. I glared at the number of missed calls.
Apparently Dominic had nothing better to do, because he had flooded my phone with texts and calls. I dialed his number as I gathered the leashes and shoved my shoes on.
“Nicole, you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Of course I wasn’t, I was asleep. After spending all night hunting for the dogs you lost.”
“I’m really sorry,” he said, his tone subdued.
I considered making him suffer a little, but restrained myself. If I had to pay four fifty extra a month to watch the dogs, I needed the movie contract, and that meant not pissing my agent off too much, especially since no one in their right mind would take me on as a client. “It’s fine. Who owns them? I’d rather just take care of them myself at this point, if you don’t mind.”
“You? Really? You’ll take care of dogs? Dogs are a huge responsibility.”
“I’ll take care of them,” I said, careful to keep the anger out of my voice.
“What about your apartment? Is your landlord going to be okay with that?”
I made a disgusted sound, and it came out as a hoarse grunt. “Four fifty extra a month. I’ve already signed the new lease. Any news about the studio? Or a contract?”
“So you’re in?”
“If the price is right,” I replied.
“I’ve got a tentative contract, but…”
“But?”
“I think you could do better.” Dominic sighed. “It’s decent, but I think I can get you better.”
“Just don’t lose the contract being stubborn,” I ordered. If I didn’t get a solid income, and soon, I wouldn’t have anything left—not even in my emergency savings account. At least when I was annoyed, it was far easier to take control instead of letting Dominic lead me around. If he seemed bothered by my initiative, he didn’t show it. “Do what you can in a couple of days—we have that long, right?”
“Easily. They’ll need a week or two to get the studio fixed up and the whole thing replaced. Fortunately, the model wasn’t damaged in the collapse, so once they clear the set and bring it up to code, filming can start. The director really wants you for the role. How’s your arm?”
“Sore, but I’ll live. Look, I have to walk the dogs, then I’m going back to bed. Don’t bother me unless there’s a problem with me keeping the dogs, okay?”
“Sure thing, Nicole. I’m really sorry they got away. They’re fast and I couldn’t catch them.”
“I forgive you, I guess.”
“You guess?” Dominic was trying to sound hurt, but I heard the hint of laughter in his voice.
“I’m hanging up now, Dominic.” I ended the call, shaking my head. If I had known he didn’t object to me taking the lead and showing a little aggression, I would’ve done it years ago.
I felt the flutter of anxiety at having been so bossy over the phone. At the rate I was going, I risked stress-induced heart attack. All anger would do was get someone hurt. Fortunately for me, while I was furious at Dominic for losing track of Rocky and Silver, my powers hadn’t manifested as flame—or as something worse.
If my past experiences were any indicator, my luck wouldn’t last.
~~*~~
With the dogs taken care of, I unpacked everything I had purchased the night before, spreading it out on my coffee table. Rocky joined me on the couch, his head resting on my knee. Silver managed to worm his way under my feet. I ignored them.
Dogs couldn’t share my secrets. So long as they didn’t interrupt me, I figured it wouldn’t bring any harm letting them watch me sort through my things.
It wasn’t able to do much magic at the moment anyway. Between glimpsing the past and the truth of Scott’s death, as well as the collapse at the set, there wasn’t a whole lot I could do. I had overexerted myself and nothing but time would fix it. What little power I did have, I would route into the focal stones and that wouldn’t look like anything more than meditating.
Not that the dogs could talk about what I did in my apartment. They were dogs, they weren’t Fenerec.
I sorted through the stuff, shaking my head at the pointless purchases. Most of it I would take to my storage unit, hidden in the slim chance I would need it later. The incense wouldn’t help me, but I kept it because I liked the smell. I was hesitant about using the gypsy’s ointments; I couldn’t tell if she had used magic to create them.
I set the three gemstone spheres in front of me, considering them. The moonstone I would save for last. Unless my initial impression of it was wrong, it would give me trouble—lots of it. Like my debens, it had a history. They had given me trouble too, though they lacked the sense of personality the moonstone had. In a way, my new stone reminded me of the book. Alive. Sentient.
~Foolishness,~ the book murmured to me from my bedroom.
I ignored it. The citrine and rhodonite would work well enough to store energy; stones were stones, unless they were precious, and I couldn’t afford a diamond—diamonds worked best, though who would waste something so precious creating a sphere?
I settled on the rhodonite, tossing it from hand to hand to get a feel for it. I closed my eyes and focused on the electricity around me. The building was loaded with devices and energy. I stole a little bit from here and there, careful to control how much I drained away.
Most of it, though, came from my apartment. I was familiar with the outlets, especially the one my television was plugged into. More importantly, I was familiar with the television and how much electricity it used. Since most focal stones couldn’t handle any more energy than what my television could use without shattering, it worked out perfectly.
In the still and quiet of my apartment, charging the rhodonite gave me time to think. Silver Moon’s closed audition bothered me—and not just because of the collapse on the set. I didn’t know much about how they handled guns on sets usually. None of the movies I had worked on included real guns. They had been stage props, enhanced with CGI to look real.
What did the film entail that needed me to do more than point and shoot? Did I really need any lessons beyond how to hold the weapon, turn off the safety, and fire it when told to?
I rolled the rhodonite between my hands, tossing it up in the air and catching it. Despite being opaque, my magic gave the sphere a bit of a glimmer. Its
colors resembled blood in my apartment’s dim lighting.
Marie had escaped with a few scratches. I had those too, and Rocky’s bite ached whenever I moved my arm. Our injuries weren’t severe. They wouldn’t hamper a film where blood and cuts part of the job.
It just didn’t add up. Silver Moon had a good reputation as a small studio. Could rusted bolts really bring down the lighting? And even if that had been a coincidence, why had the electric box been bypassed? And by who? I had always thought wizards were rare.
Maybe Harding was right. Maybe someone really was after me. I couldn’t justify Marie being the target. She certainly wasn’t a superstar, but neither was I. Unlike her, however, I had witnessed Scott’s death. Add in the fact that my car had been vandalized and it was looking more and more like I was the one in real trouble.
But why?
I continued rolling the sphere in my hands. It didn’t have any answers for me. The book also remained silent, though I was aware of its presence as an itch in the back of my head. I needed to learn the truth before someone—me—got seriously hurt or killed.
Guilt once again settled in and I was powerless to drive it away. Harding had given me his number. Disappearing was possible. If I vanished, no one else would get hurt. I could leave all of my problems behind.
But my sister, my father, and my mother would all die, along with the rest of the Fenerec. The bridges I had burned could be rebuilt, but only if my family survived.
There were those who said there was always a choice, but there wasn’t for me.
I would stay and live with the consequences of my decision.
Chapter Nine
The sun had set by the time I had finished with the rhodonite. I should have pulled out my copy of the script, which Dominic had shoved into my messenger bag, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I needed to clear my head, and walking with the dogs seemed like a good way to go about it. Silver was more enthusiastic about the idea of going out, while Rocky cocked an ear back and gave me the canine version of the silent treatment.
“Come,” I ordered, glaring at the animal until he obeyed. Rocky huffed, got off my couch, and wandered to the door, giving me dirty looks. I stuck my tongue out at him, and was rewarded with a single wag of his tail.
Despite Dominic’s worries, my neighborhood wasn’t all that dangerous—not like some other parts of the city. I wasn’t fond of walking alone at night, but with Rocky and Silver at my side, I doubted anyone would bother me.
There was something liberating about being able to go out without worry. While no one was supposed to use the dog park after sunset, I didn’t care. Rocky and Silver were too large to get exercise in my apartment and I’d make sure they were taken care of, even if it meant I had to chase them around the park and play with them.
There were worse fates.
I tried to remind myself I wasn’t supposed to like dogs, because dogs were too similar to Fenerec. Rocky and Silver wagged their tails at me, staring with begging eyes. It was a good thing that not all dogs were as charming, as I’d probably end up liking the species.
With the dogs in tow, I headed upstairs. I had meant to thank Greg for his help, but he wasn’t on duty. I didn’t recognize the young man seated behind the desk.
“Oh, Greg’s not working tonight?” I asked, looking for the new guy’s name tag. I didn’t see one.
“Took the night off, ma’am. Be careful out there, it’s late.” He had a nice voice, deep enough that it rumbled in his chest.
“Thanks.” I looked for his name tag, but didn’t find one.
“Simon, ma’am.” He smiled. There was a gap between his front teeth, which put me at ease for some reason. If I had lived closer to Hollywood, I doubted the security guards would’ve been as laid back and friendly.
I smiled back at him. “I’m Nicole.”
“Enjoy your walk, ma’am.” He nodded to me before turning his attention back to the security cameras.
I opened the door and held it for the dogs before letting myself out of the building. I resisted the urge to breathe deep; while the smog was worse during the day, the air never smell right. The fumes of too many cars and a thriving industry made me long for the clear air of a forest.
The dog park would have to do, despite it being more of a dust bowl than green space. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about whether or not Rocky and Silver would get along with other dogs. No one would be at the park and I’d have to unlock the gate to get in.
It took me less than a minute to focus the little energy I had into a solid, invisible key. I don’t really know how it worked, but I didn’t care—I wanted a key for the gate, and that’s what I got. It opened with a satisfying click.
Rocky and Silver bolted into the park the instant I unclipped their leashes. Leaning against the fence, I watched their pale forms romp under the city lights. They charged across the field, kicking up dust in their wake. Instead of barking, as I expected them to do, they battled each other, teeth bared in silent snarls. Their ferocity was undermined by their wagging tails and pricked ears.
There was something nice about being outside, away from the familiarity of my apartment. My awareness of electricity was dulled to a pleasant hum; background music in my head, soft and unobtrusive, without any one specific source distracting me.
I was comforted by its presence, but I didn’t hunger for it. I didn’t need it. In a way, I thought of my power as a leviathan, ready to devour whatever it could. It slept and didn’t bother anyone at all—especially me—and I couldn’t help but smile.
If walking the dogs meant I could be free from the burden of what I was for a little while, it was worth every penny to keep them—I wondered if I could convince the owners to let me keep them. I’d walk them, let them into my life and allow myself to be charmed by their doggy grins, wagging tails, and sloppy, canine kisses.
It wasn’t until I heard the crunch of feet on gravel that I realized someone was behind me. I turned to explain what I was doing at the park so late at night. Two men stood before me, but before I could catch more than a glimpse of dark hair and equally dark clothing, something rammed into my gut, driving the air out of my lungs. Before I could suck in a breath to scream, something sharp jabbed me in the side.
Pain ripped through me, accompanied by the crackle of electricity. My legs gave out while my arms twitched uselessly. Then as the electricity surged and pulsed through me again, I felt nothing at all.
~~*~~
I don’t think I was unconscious for long, but when I awoke, my body twitched and convulsed, and a burning sensation rippled through me. Nothing obeyed me, not even a single finger. I was aware of someone touching me and the pain of something small and cold being torn out of my side. I gasped in air to scream, but my throat clenched at the agony of drawing breath.
The sound I made was too pathetic to count as a scream; it was more of a mewling whimper. I opened my eyes, but there was something wrong with them. Light and color distorted into an unfocused blur and someone picked me up. I was powerless to fight against them. I wanted to, but I couldn’t force myself to move.
It didn’t take long for my attackers to throw me into a car, where I sprawled over someone’s lap. Hands jostled and shoved at me until I was crammed between two people. Through it all, I was helpless.
Fear choked off my breath. While the shock faded, I still hurt over and my muscles twitched. Uncontrolled shaking made it difficult to sit upright without help. I leaned against one of my captors, who was tall enough that my cheek rested against his arm instead of his shoulder.
“Go!” the man I was leaning against barked.
Tires squealed. Someone’s arm braced across my chest kept me in my seat. I squirmed—or tried to. With the worst of the convulsions gone, I was able to lift my arm, but my fingers refused to grip the arm holding me. My hand fell away, hanging limply at my side.
“Anyone see us?” someone asked from the front of the car. I focused my attention on my kidnappers, turn
ing my head a little. Once again, I was able to move, but I felt more like half-set Jell-O than a human.
“Just her dogs. Locked them in the park.” This time, it was the man on the other side of me who spoke; his voice was husky and his tone satisfied.
“You fired a shot,” the driver commented.
“One of them got a little close.”
I stiffened. The arm holding me in place pressed me harder to the seat. I tried to say something, but my tongue refused to obey me. My face tingled.
“Did you kill one of them?” It was the driver again.
“What’s the deal, man? It’s just a dog.”
“You were told no killing,” the driver snapped. “Did you kill it?”
“Nah, didn’t hit either one of them. Just wanted to scare them off.”
“And attract attention, you idiot.”
The car slowed, and I shook my head. My eyes focused enough I could make out the familiar streets outside of the window. It took me a few moments to get my bearings. We were headed southbound, towards the highway.
“What do you want us to do with the broad?”
“Keep her still and quiet,” the driver ordered, adjusting his mirror to get a good look at me. “Ah, with us now? You play it cool, lady, and you go home safe and sound, with nothing more to show for it than a headache and a couple of cuts. Unless, of course, you want another taste of the taser.”
~Lies,~ the sweet voice of the book whispered to me, despite being in my apartment somewhere far behind me. It was faint and fading, but it echoed my feelings on the matter.
Unless I did something, or somehow escaped on my own, I wasn’t going home. I could see their faces.
I didn’t have the courage to come up with a scathing retort, not that I was confident I could say anything without biting my tongue in the effort. Considering how much punch a taser packed, I was astonished I hadn’t felt the device coming near me—or hadn’t been able to stop it. As a wizard, I was supposed to be good at handling electricity.