by Gary Jonas
“Way to hit that guy in the fist with your face,” Kevin said. “Impressive.”
“Where did she go?” I asked.
Kevin pointed down the hall to the glowing exit sign above the back door. The guy who asked if I was okay pointed, too.
“Go get ‘em, dipshit,” Kevin said and zapped me in the ass again.
“Cut it out!” I said.
I don’t know how the pointing man reacted because I was already on my way to the back door with Kevin right behind me, zapping me every few steps. I hoped those jolts weren’t leaving marks on my ass.
CHAPTER THREE
I bolted out the door into the alley, and tripped over a stray cinder block. I tumbled forward and hit the pavement hard, barely getting my arms up enough to protect my face. I didn’t want to scratch up my palms, as that would make it harder to play the guitar. A scrape on my elbows wasn’t as bad. But who the hell would leave a cinder block right out in front of the damn door?
A streetlamp at the mouth of the alley cast just enough light to reveal other cinder blocks spread out on the ground, and a stack of blocks with several leaning at a precarious angle. Evidently, hot chicks being pursued aren’t above creating obstacles as they run away. Who knew?
I picked myself up, and flexed my hands. They were fine. My left forearm hurt like a son of a bitch and my elbow stung. I bent my arm toward me to try to get a look at it, which made it hurt more. The elbow was skinned up and bits of gravel and glass protruded from my skin. I plucked the glass out, and brushed the gravel off.
“Get a move on,” Kevin said.
My ankle complained when I put weight on it, but after a few steps, it dropped to a dull ache. Nothing broken. I stepped over the fallen cinder blocks as I moved toward the street.
I looked left down a dark residential street, then right toward the Strand. The two shark dudes dragged the woman back toward the alley. She struggled, and they had to focus on keeping her under control.
I was already bleeding, so I focused the magic Sabrina had been teaching me. I shot a bolt of energy at the Mako guy on the right, but he was too far away, and when it struck him, he barely flinched.
But he did notice me.
“Let her go,” I said, trying to sound tough.
He pulled his gun.
“Shit,” I said, darting back into the alley.
“Get back out there,” Kevin said.
“They’ve got guns,” I whispered.
“So don’t get shot,” he said and pushed me back onto the sidewalk. I hated that he could push me, but I couldn’t touch him.
The shark dude still had his gun out. “Back off, man,” he said. “Nothing to see here.”
“Blast him,” Kevin said.
I held my hands up. “Don’t shoot.”
“I just told you to back off. That’s how you avoid getting shot.”
Kevin shoved me forward.
“Stop it!” I said.
The Mako guy raised the gun. “Last warning, buddy. I really don’t want to shoot you. This ain’t your problem.”
The other shark dude had his arms wrapped around the woman. They’d shoved a rag into her mouth to keep her from screaming, and her eyes pleaded with me not to let them take her.
“You’re closer now,” Kevin said. “Blast the gunman.”
“Sorry,” I said, keeping my hands up. I was still bleeding, so I summoned up some magic.
Kevin darted past me. He pointed at the gun and a bolt of light shot from his finger to the barrel of the weapon. The muzzle melted closed.
At the same time, I sent another energy blast at the guy’s face. It still didn’t hold together well, but since I was closer, the blast pushed him back a step. He pulled the trigger and the gun blew up in his hand. He screamed.
The woman stomped on the other shark dude’s instep. He let go of her.
“Duck!” I shouted.
She crouched down and I blasted the second shark man in the chest. He staggered back a step, and I raced toward him, not sure what I could do, but I pulled up short because the woman twisted around and drove her knee up into the guy’s balls. She followed up with a throat punch and he dropped to his knees.
Note to self—hot chicks can hurt you.
She tried to shout, but what came out was, “Mmmm!” She ran toward me, pointing to the alley.
“I think she said run,” Kevin said.
The shark dudes were down, but not out, and I didn’t want to take any chances, so I followed the woman into the alley. She grabbed a cinder block from the stack and spun around ready to smack me in the face.
“Whoa!” I said. “It’s me!”
“Mmm,” she said, and handed the block to me.
She yanked the gag from her mouth.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Get ready,” she said. “They may be coming back.”
I moved to the mouth of the alley and peeked around. The shark men were helping each other down the sidewalk toward the Strand. I carried the block back and set it on the pile. “They’re giving up,” I said.
“For now,” she said.
Kevin walked behind her, staring at her legs. “Nice,” he said, and gave me a thumbs up.
I ignored him.
“I’m Brett,” I said, extending my hand.
“Helen,” she said, accepting the handshake. Her voice sounded like smooth, smoky music.
“It’s dress up day,” Kevin said and lifted the back of her dress to look at her ass.
“What the hell?” she said, pushing her dress down.
“Damn,” Kevin said. “She’s wearing black panties. Nice, but they cover too much.”
“Cut it out,” I said.
“Cut what out?” she asked.
“Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
She looked around. “There’s no one else here.”
Maybe I was wrong about her actually seeing Kevin. But she’d still managed to kick him. And she was staring at me strangely. I needed to explain why I was talking when no one else was in sight. The first thing that popped in my head was the TV show Leverage, which I’d recently binge-watched.
I turned to the side and pulled an earplug from my pocket, then pretended to take it out of my left ear. I held it up between my thumb and forefinger. “Communication device,” I said. I held it close to my mouth. “Team Blue, stand down.” I put the plug back into my pocket.
“That was an earplug,” she said.
I shook my head. “It’s a sophisticated comm unit,” I said. “I’m with Homeland Security.”
She laughed. “Bullshit. You were on stage playing guitar when I arrived.”
“So you noticed me,” I said and gave her a nod. “Cool.”
“You’re cute,” she said. “Kinda weird, but cute. You sure those guys are gone?”
“Pretty sure. You want to tell me what’s going on? Why are they after you?”
She shrugged. “Human trafficking?”
Now it was my turn to laugh. I took a chance. “Those were Mako Clansmen,” I said.
Her eyes widened for a moment. “You know about the Clansmen?”
I nodded. “Yeah, now tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”
“I’ll help her,” Kevin said.
I ignored him.
“Not here,” she said. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll tell my friends I’m leaving. You can do the same.”
“Works for me.”
Kevin waggled his eyebrows at me. “Gonna get lucky tonight, and I get to watch.”
When Helen turned to grab the door, I took a swipe at Kevin, but my hand went through him.
“Be good,” I whispered.
“Oh, I will be,” he said with a wicked grin.
“You stay with Sabrina,” I whispered.
“Make me,” Kevin said.
Helen turned toward me as she held the door open. “Did you say something?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She narrowed
her gaze, but then smiled and went back into the bar.
CHAPTER FOUR
Helen sat across from me in a small diner on Broadway not too far from Bishop’s Palace. It would have been a nice place to chat, but Kevin was there, and the dumbass kept going from table to table to unscrew the caps from all the salt shakers. As it seemed Helen couldn’t see him, I couldn’t call him out on his dick moves without looking like I was on a weekend pass from the local asylum. So I tried to focus only on Helen’s deep blue eyes.
We ordered coffee, and stuck with simple small talk until our cups were filled and the waitress moved off to help the poor sap who just dumped salt all over his chicken fried steak.
“It was tight when I used it a minute ago,” he said.
Kevin chuckled and went to another table to continue his mischief.
So far, all I knew about Helen was that she loved the sea, and had been singing her entire life, but the guys she had in her band were recent acquisitions. I also knew from experience that her voice could mesmerize the opposite sex, but even without that, she was easy on the eyes, and speaking as a representative of my gender, we tend to be easily manipulated by hot chicks.
“How did you get on the radar of the Mako Clansmen?” I asked.
“How do you even know about them?” she asked.
“You first.”
“A record magnate from Nashville wants me to record for his label.”
“That must really suck for you,” I said.
She reached across the table and patted my hand. Her touch was warm and gentle. “I know I sound ungrateful, and if you knew how much money he was offering, you’d want to strangle me.”
“I doubt it,” I said. My parents were rich, and while I relied on my asshole of a father to keep my bank account healthy, I wasn’t lacking for anything.
“That’s sweet of you, but it’s a lot of money. Especially since I’ve never allowed any recordings of my voice to exist.”
I laughed. “Somehow, I think you’re mistaken about that. You have an amazing voice, and every guy has a recording device in his pocket while every woman has one in her purse. You might look yourself up on YouTube. You may be surprised how many recordings are out there.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I’ll bet you the bill for the coffee that there aren’t any recordings of me on YouTube.”
“You spend your mornings sending DMCAs?” Digital Millennium Copyright Act notices were supposed to protect artists from having their music stolen, but good luck with that.
“Of course not,” she said. “Look me up.”
“They might not have the videos labeled as Helen and the Peregrines.”
“Get out your phone, Brett. Look me up.”
“It’s not important.”
“I’m just going to sit here until you look it up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I pulled out my phone, called up YouTube and did a quick search. Nothing under her name. “There’s a trailer for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children,” I said.
“Sounds like your kind of place.”
“You already pegged me for that?”
She nodded. “What else?”
“Something called Los Elfos Peregrines. I have to check this out.” I clicked it and shook my head as crazy elves danced to a godawful disco version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
“What the hell are you watching?” Helen asked.
I turned my phone so she could see it.
“Please make it stop,” she said, recoiling.
Kevin rushed over to the table and started dancing to the music. “I love that!” he said.
I stopped the song.
“Hey!” Kevin said, and zapped my leg.
I grimaced.
“Something wrong?” Helen asked.
“Leg cramp,” I said, and rubbed it. “All right, you’ve got free coffee, so spill the details.”
“I use magic to prevent recordings,” she said.
“My cousin uses magic to sweep the floor,” I said.
“No, I’m serious. Magic is real.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m a wizard,” I said.
“Come on.”
“I blasted those two shark dudes for you.”
She studied me. “I didn’t see that. Of course, I was busy trying to get away from them.”
“You seriously didn’t see it?”
“If you’re such a powerful wizard why was it so hard to save me?”
“I’m not much for practicing.”
“Show me something.”
“Oh, this ought to be good,” Kevin said.
I wanted to shoo him away, but since she doubted my wizarding skills, I didn’t want to tell her an invisible demon with red skin and a black diaper was trying to look down her dress.
“Magic requires blood,” I said.
“Really?”
“My magic does. There are other kinds of wizards and sorcerers and witches and mages and dumbass demons, too.”
Kevin flipped me off.
“That’s a lot of magic.”
“Hurts the brain, doesn’t it?”
“So show me what you can do.”
I put my right arm on the table, turned palm up to display a Tarot card tattooed on my forearm in the middle of another tattoo of flowing plants and flowers. The Tarot card, however, was part of a full deck that had been tattooed into my arm with blood magic, so the price had been paid. I could ask a question, shake my arm, and the Tarot card would give me an answer. Not a real answer, of course. Bullshit Tarot answers, which were a step above a fortune cookie in my view.
She frowned as she looked at the tat. “Flowers?”
“Don’t judge,” I said. “I was drunk.”
She laughed. “I wasn’t being judgmental, I was born on a flowery island myself.”
“Whatever. See the card?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Okay,” I said, and focused on my question. “Should we be worried about the shark dudes?” I gave my arm a shake and the card shifted to the Five of Pentacles.
“If I know my Tarot,” she said, “that card means we should be worried.”
The card did indeed mean worry.
“Unless it’s reversed,” she said, “in which case it’s the end of an adverse situation. Right?”
“Something like that.”
“Is it reversed? I mean, it is to me, but it would be upright for you. Does that mean you’re the answer to my problem, but I’m now your worry?”
“Hell if I know,” I said. “I hate Tarot cards.”
“That was impressive magic, though,” she said. “I have to hand it to you because that little trick works because of someone else’s power, not yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the magic is in the tattoo, so you didn’t use any of your own magic there.”
“Not exactly,” I said. “It draws on my magic to work.”
She shrugged. “Can we ask another question?”
“Not for twenty-four hours.”
She laughed. “So even with someone else’s magic, you’re extremely limited.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I already did.”
“Bored now,” Kevin said and moved off to mess with someone else.
“Fine,” I said. I bent my arm, and scratched open the wound from earlier enough to draw blood. I dabbed my finger against the scrape, winced a bit, then put my finger in my mouth. I didn’t have to do that in order to use the blood magic, but it made the task easier.
I pointed at the salt shaker, and it levitated six inches above the table. Kevin had loosened the lid, so it slid off the container, and bounced twice before rolling onto the bench seat of the booth. The motion distracted me, and the shaker tilted enough to spill salt, and I lost control of it. The container dropped to the table and tipped over, making a mess.
Helen laughed and shook her head. “Impressive.”
“Whatever. Your turn,”
I said, as I righted the salt shaker. “What’s the deal with the record guy? Why don’t you want to sign the contract?”
“Because the contract is draconian, and if I agree to it, I’ll be his slave.”
I grabbed a napkin, held it in one hand beneath the edge of the table then brushed the spilled salt into it. “You don’t want to do radio interviews and long concert tours?”
She shook her head, and her grin gave way as a troubled look crossed her face. She scanned the customers in the diner, then leaned forward. “I mean I would literally be his slave if I signed that contract.”
“Good incentive not to sign,” I said as I folded the napkin so the salt wouldn’t spill again. “You don’t want to spend your prime years chained up in a recording studio.”
“I can’t sign any contracts, Brett. If I sign a contract, I’m enslaved to the contract holder. I fought for many years to get my freedom.”
“Many years? You’re what, twenty-five?”
“I’m a bit older than I look,” she said.
“Twenty-six?”
“I was enslaved for thousands of years.”
And I was worried she might think I was crazy.
I looked around for the waitress and raised my hand. “Check, please?”
Helen pulled my hand down. “I’m being serious.”
“I know,” I said. That was the problem. I knew she meant it. Her eyes told me she believed it.
“You heard me sing,” she said.
“Indeed I did, and you’re incredibly talented. Alas, you’re also batshit crazy.”
“No,” she said. “What I am is a siren.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I stared at Helen. “Aren’t sirens part bird, part woman?” I asked. “I don’t see any feathers on you.”
“Don’t believe everything you read about mythology.”
“So you’re not a bird chick?”
“No.”
“But your voice can lure men to their deaths.”
“I can sing people into doing things for me with some degree of success.”
“That’s why the shark dudes were wearing headphones.”
She nodded.
I’d felt the power in her voice, so maybe she was telling a version of the truth. I didn’t think she was thousands of years old, but she had some kind of magic, and it cost me nothing to let her believe she was a siren. Still, if I ever took her to bed, I’d be looking for feathers.