by C. C. Mahon
“What about the Guild?” I said.
If anyone had resources, it was the Sorcerer’s Guild.
Britannicus pinched his lips. “My American colleagues seem more interested in money than in the public good. Or they take a long time to react.”
“Probably both,” Lizzie said. “They probably spend their days in discussions to decide whether or not to get involved.”
“But all this magic,” I said, “won’t it run out at some point?”
“On the contrary,” Britannicus said. “According to my observations, the leak is emitting more and more magic.”
“How? Why?”
“I think the ley lines are getting unstable,” said Britannicus.
I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but Lizzie immediately enlightened me. “Maybe we’ll get our magic Chernobyl.”
3
RUMOR HAD IT that if the balance of the ley lines was upset, we would undergo a “magical Chernobyl.” The rumor was not very precise in its definition of such an event—rumors rarely were. But if I believed what I saw at Callum’s…
When I confronted Callum in his building, I chased him to the third basement level. There, I discovered a forest of giant crystals. I had later described their orange, purple, and blue lights, the way they sometimes emitted arcs of pure magic, their constant humming. Britannicus and Lizzie had concluded that it was a kind of transformer, intended to channel the raw magic of the ley lines into a slightly less explosive magic. Like an electrical transformer that changed high voltage into domesticated electricity.
While fighting Callum, I had broken some of these crystals. Some magical discharges had caused others to explode. And the whole thing had finally blown with such power that it razed an entire block to the ground. Dozens and dozens of dead. Hundreds of wounded. And now the whole population was about to be contaminated. All because of me. “Boss, stop it right now,” Gertrude said.
I jumped when I discovered the young troll standing in front of me.
“Stop what?” I said.
“You’ve been polishing this poor table for a good five minutes, looking like a martyr. I know what you’re thinking, and you have to stop.”
“I’m just tired, that’s all. It’s been a long night.”
She crossed her arms and frowned. “You are thinking about what happened in that basement,” she said. “About the explosion and all those victims. You are thinking about it, and you blame yourself. You think it’s your fault.”
“If I hadn’t chased Callum in the middle of those crystals…”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes. If wishes were dragons, trolls would ride.”
“But…”
“But nothing at all! Carver decided to kidnap poor people to take away their magic. He was the one who drilled into the ley lines to get the magic he needed. He was the one who found it clever to run away into the middle of his crystal transformer, and he was the one who tried to kill you with his awful spider legs.”
The mention of Callum’s legs made a shiver run up my spine. When I knew Callum Carver, he was human. But he had taken advantage of his cursed ritual to steal the powers of a phoenix, a young dragon, and a man who was also a giant spider. Combined in one body, these three magics had distorted Callum into a deformed monster. His appearance finally matched his personality.
Gertrude pointed her granite index finger at the middle of my chest. “You,” she said, “did everything you could to help this monster’s victims. You found them; you rescued them. Because I insisted. Without me, you would never have gotten involved. Do you think I should blame myself?”
“No, of course not…”
“Should I make myself sick? Spend hours staring into space with an air of martyrdom on my face?”
“No, Gertrude, it’s not—”
“Should I stop eating? Never go out again?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know very well that you blame yourself. We all know that. And we’re all worried about you. And on top of it, there’s this whole Valkyrie thing…” She looked worriedly at my large wings and continued, more gently, “You know I’ve had nightmares about Valkyries since I was a child? For trolls, they are like your bogeyman. So I understand that this appointment must come as a shock to you. But you have to pull yourself together. Get out of the club from time to time.”
“How do you know I don’t spend my days shopping while you sleep?”
She shot me a look that said it all: she didn’t believe that for a second. She was not wrong. Every night, I closed the club a little before sunrise, dragged myself up to my loft, tried to wash without breaking everything in my shower, and slumped in my bed—on my stomach because my wings forced me to sleep like that. I didn’t come down until the end of the day to prepare the club before opening, do a little accounting, and worry myself sick.
“At least Callum is lying low,” I whispered.
Gertrude grimaced, and my stomach tied.
“What?” I asked.
“Matteo checked it out. This Carver is gathering a group of fanatics around him—humans who want power, but also supernaturals who are afraid.”
“And they turn to Callum?”
“People say he’s invincible. That even…”
She stopped and lowered her head. I knew what she was going to say: “That even the Valkyrie slayer can’t kill him.”
And it was true. I had managed to behead a psychopathic Valkyrie, but I had failed to kill Callum. Partly because his dragon power made him so tough. Partly because eight giant spider legs and a 360° view gave him a definite advantage. But mostly because I had spent my adult life fearing him, even before he acquired magical powers, and it took me a little while to find the courage to face him. But then what was the point, since he stole the power of a phoenix? If I could kill him, he would be reborn from the ashes…
“What the hell is he doing?” I said. “What does he want?”
“Power?” Gertrude suggested. “That’s what bad guys always want in comic books.”
And that was what Callum had always coveted. Economic power, power over his business competitors, and power over his women. When I met him, he had strong business acumen, a vast fortune, and an impressive collection of scalpels to exercise this power. And he had made my life a living hell. What could he accomplish with the powers of a dragon, a phoenix, and a giant spider? I didn’t want to think about it. But did I have a choice?
“I don’t want to go beyond my duties as a waitress,” Gertrude continued in a softer voice. “But I would feel more reassured if you thought less about your past and looked at what is happening around you now. People are afraid. They need to be reassured. That’s why they’re turning to Carver.”
“I’m not going to start my own cult for the sake of competing with Callum. My club is good enough for me. And the supernaturals are old enough to take care of themselves. Don’t worry, Gertrude. Everything will be fine.”
4
THE LAST CUSTOMER left the club. Nate closed the door and came down to see me. I was just starting to count the night’s revenue. He had a massive hammer in his hand.
“Do you want to compete with Gertrude and her magic hammer?” I asked.
He pointed to the door frame. “I’m going to break this piece of wall so you can get through with your wings. And then I’ll do the frames again.”
“Now?”
“Would you rather do it when the customers are here?”
He attacked the wall as if it had personally insulted him. I took the cash drawer with me and sought refuge at the very back of the club, in my office.
It was a small space, nestled behind the back room and the storage room, containing a wooden desk, two chairs, a few shelves, and an old-fashioned safe. I only came here to put the receipts in the safe and write paychecks. The place felt even narrower since I had a pair of wings on my back.
I turned the chair to straddle it and resumed counting money. Business had been good. Johnny’s rema
rk came to mind: the magic leak may have been good for the Guild’s wallet, but the supernatural community’s concern was undoubtedly good for the club’s finances. Bitter thought.
A long time ago, I went to college to study film. I worked on weekends in a bar near the campus to help pay for my education. And then one day, a professor gave me his invitation to a film premiere. His son had chickenpox, so he stayed at his bedside. I had borrowed a girlfriend’s evening dress and my mother’s earrings. The red carpet, the champagne, and the actors parading in front of me: I was living a dream. And then I met Callum Carver. He had produced the film, hugged the stars as if they had known each other forever, and dazzled me. I’m not sure why he noticed me. He was probably looking for a new toy to break. I should have known better.
Two years later, when he thought I was broken, I found the strength to run away. With a sword. A magic sword.
And now I had Valkyrie wings, and my mission was to protect the people of Vegas in case the ley lines exploded for good. Easy.
Erica St. Gilles, sheriff of Las Vegas.
Yeah, that’s right.
Anyway, Gertrude was right. I had to get out of my lair and see what was going on in the city. To say that Callum had recreated his fanatical sect and that I knew nothing about it… Truth was, I didn’t want to know anything.
At the other end of the club, the massive blows stopped. I closed the safe and ventured near the entrance door. The top of the doorway had disappeared. Its remains lay on the ground, and the edges of the opening showed the insides of the wall. Nate went down the stairs, a toolbox in one hand and a series of boards longer than him tightened under his other arm.
“I’ll be an hour or two,” he said. “After that, I’ll look at what to do with the counter. But this will take longer.”
I nodded and let him work. He still seemed to be mad at me for something, but I didn’t know exactly what. Was it because of the magical explosion? Was he angry with me for the victims who had succumbed to the rubble? Maybe he had lost someone? I’d have to ask Matteo. Nate wasn’t the kind of person who would share his personal life with his boss, but Matteo was an exceptional psychologist for a cook. But perhaps among psychic vampires, psychology and cooking were the same thing?
While wondering about these high-flying philosophical questions, I climbed the stairs leading to my loft. Once home, I resisted the urge to collapse on my bed and went around it to reach the glass case. The sword it contained greeted me with a melodious vibration. Melodious, but with a slight reproach.
“What, are you mad at me, too?”
I grabbed her and immediately understood how she felt: Odin had made me a valkyrie as the sword had suggested, but since then, I had abandoned her like an antique in her showcase.
“You’re right,” I said. “I neglected you. Let’s go for a ride around town, shall we?”
I placed the sword in its cylindrical case, the one that made me look like a fine arts student. I grabbed my motorcycle helmet but left my jacket behind; it was impossible to put it on over a pair of wings. I was already having trouble getting in a simple tank top in the morning, another thing I would have to discuss with Barbie. Did the harpies have clothing shops specializing in winged creatures?
I guessed it was the sound of the big metal door that caught Nate’s attention, as he emerged from the basement with a saw in his hand and frowned.
“Are you going out?” he said.
“Yes, why? Do you need me for anything?”
His forehead wrinkled a little more, and he shook his head before going back to the basement without a word. I was really wondering what I could have done to him to make him sulk like that. Typically, he would have asked me if I wanted him to come with me (which, for him, meant “escort me”). I would have refused, of course. Then he would have advised me to be careful. I would have turned him down, and he would have sulked like a big, upset teddy bear.
Did I deny him one too many times?
I thought about it. When was the last time Nate offered me protection? When did he treat me like a little fragile thing? I couldn’t remember a single time, not since the magical explosion. That had to be it: Nate was mad at me for the explosion. Maybe he thought I hadn’t been careful enough in chasing Callum to the third-level basement. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
I engaged my motorcycle in the streets of Vegas and tried to chase away my ruminations. The sun was barely rising. The last partygoers, unsteady on their legs, crossed paths with the already rushed morning workers. The air was fresh, but it wouldn’t last. Vegas was bracing for a hot spring day. And above the city, the fog of magic hovered, a threat invisible to humans but omnipresent for the supernaturals.
5
THE STRIP WAS always crowded. Since the collapse of an entire block, and with the clearing work, traffic jams should have worsened. But on this bright early morning, the most famous avenue in Las Vegas was strangely quiet.
A few pedestrians hurried onto the sidewalk. A few cars were negotiating the bottleneck at the construction site. The site itself was silent, no workers in sight, all earth-moving machinery at a standstill. I decided to take a closer look.
I parked my motorcycle in a perpendicular alleyway and pictured myself as a worker in a flannel shirt wearing a construction helmet. The charm worked immediately. Since I received my Valkyrie wings, performing the only spell in my repertoire had become as easy as snapping my fingers.
In my appearance as a worker, I went to the site entrance. The access had been locked, but a simple chain was no match for my sword. The weapon cut the steel like paper, but not without reproach; it considered itself well above the use I made of it. My sword was a diva.
It was the first time I had returned to the scene since the explosion. The machines had cleared much of the rubble, revealing the gaping hole where the giant crystals used to be. The air smelled like magic, and I felt like my hair was just waiting to stand on my head. I leaned over the edge of the crater, wondering if there were any crystals left underneath. I didn’t see any. According to Lizzie, they had been vaporized. This meant that they no longer channeled the leak of raw magic from the ley lines. I didn’t know anything about ley lines, but Lizzie seemed well informed. And I could feel the energy rising from the ground. I had goosebumps…
A voice came to me over the purring of the city.
“The chain was cut off,” said one man.
“I have eyes,” replied another voice.
A man’s voice, cold and authoritative, suddenly felt like a blow to my stomach. Callum? Here? No.
The access door creaked, and I looked around for a hiding place. I was standing at the edge of the crater. At the very back of the lot remained a large pile of rubble and clearing machines parked in an arc. To reach them, I would have to go around the crater and run several dozen yards. No time for that.
I rushed towards the voices, stuck to the palisade that surrounded the site, and concentrated on the sheet metal and its faded paint. The charm changed immediately; the worker and his helmet were no more. I was now as bland and faded as any portion of the palisade.
The two men appeared to my right, and I held my breath.
I easily recognized Callum. He wore a perfectly cut gray suit that highlighted the narrowness of his hips. Ten to one that under his illusion, he was in jogging pants, shirtless. Because I would have been surprised if Callum had found a tailor who could fit his eight spider legs into such a slim-fitting suit. Not when I had to give up my beloved leather jacket because of only one pair of wings.
The other man also wore a gray suit, slightly less well-cut than Callum’s. He was holding a leather briefcase, from which he pulled a bundle of papers. “We took all the necessary steps with the city,” explained the man. “But the bureaucracy…”
Callum didn’t listen to him. He walked quickly to the edge of the crater, looked down into the depths of the earth, and inhaled deeply. The air shone for a moment around him. The other man approached, trying not to damage his pri
cey shoes on the concrete debris and the dirt. He kept babbling about his administrative difficulties. He went towards Callum at the edge of the crater, but Callum stretched out his arm behind him without turning around. “Distances!” he barked.
The other stopped abruptly, took two steps back, and apologized profusely.
Callum ignored him and breathed in deeply.
That was what he came for: to get a little more magic from the leak he had created. As if he didn’t have enough. As if the combined powers of a giant spider, a dragon, and a phoenix were not enough for him.
The air shivered again around Callum. The morning sun cast long shadows on the scene. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Callum’s shadow suddenly swelling up. Then nothing. I must have imagined… No! There, again. Intermittently, his shadow showed Callum’s true silhouette, with the eight giant legs coming out of his torso.
The other man hadn’t noticed anything; his nose was dipped in his papers, and he was still chatting.
Callum clenched his fists, and from where I was watching him, I thought I saw him shaking. Then his shadow took on a shape more in keeping with human anatomy, and Callum relaxed.
“His eyes were bigger than his belly,” whispered the sword.
“Excuse me?”
“When he absorbed those powers. A dragon and a phoenix cannot have descendants together. The same goes for a spider and a dragon. These three powers have never cohabited in the same body before.”
“And cohabitation is more difficult than expected?”
“Looks like it.”
The sword seemed to be enjoying the show. Personally, the memory of Callum’s true appearance was making me queasy.
“I don’t care about your apologies!” Callum suddenly growled.
The other man jumped and dropped his papers.
“This place belongs to me,” said Callum, “and so-called experts won’t keep me away from it any longer.”
“I fear I must disagree,” said a female voice.