Soulfire (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 4)

by A. Blythe

  “We don’t want to cause any trouble…” I began.

  “Good,” Balwick said. “Then stand aside.”

  “I think your boss would like you to listen to me,” I said. Because he digs me.

  “Maybe we should listen to her,” the female Protector said.

  “There you go,” I said. “Listen to the sensible one. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Lucy Silvers.”

  “She’s a trainee,” he said, and gave her a reproachful look. “Trainees need to follow the chain of command.”

  Thompson stepped forward. “I just want to ask them a couple of questions. It’ll take two minutes.” She didn’t wait for him to agree. She simply turned toward the Ghuls. “Whichever one of you talks gets to live.”

  Sounded reasonable to me.

  “No,” Balwick objected.

  Thompson glared at him. “This is my jurisdiction. The PTF trumps the Protectorate when human lives are not at risk. It’s in the regs.”

  “Human lives are at risk,” Balwick argued. “Whenever you have Ghuls on the loose, human lives are at risk.”

  “Right now, they’re only a threat to the dead ones,” I said, spreading my arms wide.

  “And us,” the third Protector said, his sword drawn but unsteady. He was a short, muscular guy with a buzz cut. My money was on trainee. He looked too green to be anything else.

  “What do you want to know?” the middle Ghul asked.

  “Why are there six of you here tonight?” Thompson asked.

  Balwick groaned loudly. “Because they were having a tea party. Come on! Who cares?”

  “Trust me. It matters,” I said firmly.

  “Not on purpose,” the Ghul grunted, and I noticed he was covering an abdominal wound. “I came first.”

  And happened to run into five other Ghuls in the same cemetery at the same time? Not likely.

  “Why did you choose to come here?” Thompson asked.

  “Because it’s a graveyard and he’s a Ghul,” Balwick shouted. “It isn’t rocket science, ladies.”

  Ladies? Right now I wanted to shove a rocket right up Balwick’s know-it-all ass.

  “Need to eat,” the Ghul replied.

  Without warning, the Ghul on the left shot out an arm and reached for Balwick’s companion—the only Protector not to speak. Quick as a flash, Balwick’s blade sliced through the air and right through the Ghul’s arm.

  It happened so fast.

  The other two Ghuls reacted—the one on the right charged Thompson and the middle one lunged for me. It sucked for us, but it gave one of the Protectors the chance to start lobbing fireballs. One whooshed past my head, burning my hair.

  “Hey,” I shouted, unable to turn away from my opponent and identify the guilty party. “My hair grows slowly.”

  Fire sparked on the Ghul’s mangled ears. He seemed oblivious to the pain as he threw another punch, catching the tip of my chin. I bit my tongue and tasted blood.

  “Perfect,” I said. “Now you’re only going to want me more.” I gritted my teeth and unsheathed my yantoks. “Ain’t gonna happen, Mr. Ugly.”

  I bolted right, trying to lure him away from the others. I hopped up onto a headstone. “Burn, baby, burn,” I said softly, and my yantoks began to glow with a reddish hue. I whacked his face with one and the skin immediately sizzled and bubbled. He growled. I did a backflip and landed on the grass, ready for another strike.

  One of the Protectors kicked the Ghul from behind and he fell forward, smashing the headstone into pieces. Before he could recover, I lifted a glowing red yantok over my head and brought it crashing down on the back of his skull.

  “One down, two to go,” I said.

  “One to go,” the Protector corrected me. “Balwick killed one with fire.”

  So the dipshit controlled fire like Reed. Life wasn’t fair.

  I sprinted back to the fray, although I couldn’t imagine they’d need my help. One Ghul against Thompson and all of those supernaturals shouldn’t be a problem.

  Uh oh.

  The Ghul was on the defensive, snapping his teeth. He clutched the female Protector under his bulky arm. Her skin was tinged with blue.

  “Get her out of there,” I yelled.

  “We can’t hit him without hitting her,” Balwick snapped, circling the Ghul from a safe distance.

  “Thompson can,” I said. She was an expert shot. She could nail that Ghul with a copper bullet right between the eyes.

  Thompson shook her head. “Empty.”

  Crap on a stick.

  The Ghul began to drag the woman backward toward the mausoleum. His getaway hostage. Not that he’d free her once he was in the clear. He’d kill her without hesitation. He was here to feed, after all, and she was now takeaway.

  We couldn’t let the Ghul kill the trainee. In addition to all the obvious reasons, there was the simple fact that Reed would hold it against me. Not intentionally, but I’d see it in his eyes every time he looked at me. I couldn’t handle the guilt.

  I had to save her.

  Because of the way he gripped the Protector, the left side of the Ghul’s body was partially exposed. If I could knick him there, it might be enough. I grabbed Thompson’s blade and used a headstone to catapult myself toward him.

  “Holy Plasma Plane,” I breathed.

  I overshot and knocked against the hostage. All three of us tumbled to the ground. The Protector rolled to the side, gasping for air, and I thrust the blade deep into the Ghul’s gut and twisted. He yowled in pain and tried to wrench the blade free.

  “Move,” Balwick bellowed.

  I instinctively moved aside. I turned in time to see Balwick douse the Ghul in flames.

  “My saber,” Thompson cried.

  “It will survive the fire,” Balwick assured her.

  The Ghul crackled and charred until he was a pile of blackened dust. The saber was unscathed.

  “Well, that was not how I planned to spend my evening,” I said, brushing off my pants and rising to my feet.

  Thompson looked at me askance. “It kinda was, actually. You and I came here on a stakeout, remember?”

  “Yes, but we wouldn’t have made so much mess.” I shot a pointed look in Balwick’s direction.

  “I told you not to talk to them,” Balwick said, and capped off his brief lecture with a long string of obscenities.

  “And I told you to let us handle it,” I said.

  “You got what you wanted,” Thompson said, with a glare that should have made Balwick’s toes curl if he was smart. “They’re all dead. Happy now?”

  “I have two injured trainees,” Balwick spat. “It’s going to be my head on a platter.”

  “Good,” I said. “And I’ll be sure to add my two cents when I speak to Captain Reed as well.”

  “You act like you’re somebody,” Balwick said, looking me up and down. “All I see is a big mouth with tits.”

  Anger reared inside me. My fingers twitched, eager to launch one of my daggers at his smug face.

  I felt Thompson’s hand on my shoulder. “He’s not worth it, Alyse.”

  My fingers relaxed. Thompson was right. I couldn’t be the one to deal with Balwick. He belonged to Reed. But I would make damn sure Reed knew every rotten word that came out of Balwick’s mouth. I had a feeling the punishment would be much worse coming from him.

  “What are you smiling at?” Balwick asked. “I just insulted the hell out of you.”

  “I’m imagining what your boss is going to do to you when he finds out you insulted the hell out of the woman he wants a relationship with.”

  Balwick paled. His companions grabbed him by the arms and steered him back toward the street.

  “Let’s go, Lieutenant,” the female said.

  “Be sure to pass along my regards to your captain,” I called with a friendly wave.

  “Dipshit,” Thompson muttered.

  “There’s one in every office,” I said.

  5

  I arra
nged to meet Serena at a small restaurant called Lamberti’s. It was neutral territory. She had her finger in more pots then I knew, but Lamberti’s was owned by an Italian family that I was friendly with when I lived here as a kid. The restaurant went back several generations and I knew for a fact that the crime syndicate had no hold on them. Giuseppe Lamberti had been a tough old codger who came to America from Italy in 1930. He refused to take crap from anyone and, somehow, he managed to bind his badassery to his DNA because his heirs were all the same.

  Serena was there when I arrived, looking like her usual calm, cool, and collected self. She had the sleek blond look of Grace Kelly. She gave me a tiny wave from the table in the back of the restaurant. There were only a few other diners, probably because it was only five o'clock. Too early for the rush hour crowd.

  "I see you’ve chosen nice, casual clothes to match your nice, casual restaurant," she said. Bitch.

  "Well, we can't all afford to eat at five-star restaurants every day of the week. Not those of us who come by our money honestly anyway." I took the seat opposite her.

  She sucked in a mocking breath. "Whoa, right to the point. One of the things I like about you."

  “Color me shocked. I didn't even realize there was one thing."

  "I took the liberty of ordering for us," Serena said. Of course she did. It was all about control for her. Dinner, the fate of a colony—it was all the same to her. "I ordered a bottle of Malbec and the oysters to start."

  "Followed by what? Veal parm? Lamb to the slaughter perhaps?”

  She rolled her eyes in a way that reminded me of Pinky. "Oh Alyse, don't be so dramatic."

  The lone waiter in the restaurant hurried over with our wine and two glasses. I laughed when Serena realized that the glasses were plastic.

  "Only the best for you, Mrs. Edwards.”

  Serena frowned, but took it in stride. “Why bother to have such an excellent wine available if you’re going to serve it in plastic?”

  “I’m sure they won’t mind if you drink it straight out of the bottle.”

  She glanced around at the modest decor. “No, I suspect you’re probably right.” She returned her attention to me. "So what has prompted this meeting of the minds? Are you here to talk about Pinky? Something I should know? A new boyfriend?“

  "Not today.” I tapped my nails against the side of the plastic wine glass, enjoying the sound. “I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve offered to host the Officers’ Gala this year. Out of the goodness of your philanthropic heart, I can only assume?”

  A vague smile played upon her lips. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you caught wind of it. As a matter of fact, it is a matter of civic pride. Despite what you think, Alyse, I am not all bad. Neither of us is entirely one thing or another, are we?"

  I knew exactly what she was getting at. My life as a Shadow Elite agent meant that I’d done a lot of things I was not necessarily proud of—the means to an end.

  "I'm on a better path now,” I said. “You know that."

  Serena sipped her wine. "And what if you manage to have your cuffs removed? What then? Another fork in the road for Alyse Winters? How many times can one djinni reinvent herself?"

  I speared an oyster and sucked it down. "I don't see it as reinvention. I see it more as evolution." And truth be told, I'd stopped thinking so much about what life would be like with my powers back. The longer my stasis continued, the less likely it seemed that I would live out my days as anything other than human. An abbreviated life, but a life nonetheless.

  "All of our mirrors are distorted, are they not?" Serena indulged in a few oysters, chewing daintily. You’d never guess the kind of evil that lurked within such an elegant package. “These are surprisingly delicious. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t expecting quality in this establishment." She looked around approvingly. “I’ll be sure to remember this place."

  "Please don't," I said. "Some neutral territory needs to remain in this colony. Let Lamberti’s be one of them."

  "So how is my Pinky getting on under your tutelage?" she asked. "Let's talk mother to mentor for a moment.”

  "Pinky is exactly as you would expect. Amazing with untapped potential and a very firm moral code," I said pointedly.

  Serena shrugged. "I do wonder where she would've gotten a moral code from. Must be her father. Between you and me, I hardly think either one of us is suited to guide her."

  "What are your plans for the gala, Serena? You're going to have the entire city police force on your premises at once. You cannot convince me that there’s no malevolent plan at work."

  "I don't need to convince you of anything, dear. I'm one of the biggest charitable contributors in the colony. Animal welfare, art museums, nonprofits…Why should my generosity not extend to the hard-working police force?" She batted her eyelashes and I wanted to rip each one off her eyelids one by one. The woman was infuriating.

  "This is my colony, Serena. Watch your step."

  The ice queen leaned forward, lowering her voice to a menacing snarl. "I think you will find this is my colony. Remember, Alyse. You were offered the chance at leadership, but you chose a selfish path. We must all live with the consequences of our actions.“

  I choked back laughter. “And you haven't? You’re delusional. Nothing you do is for the benefit of anyone except Serena Edwards. Don’t worry. Your day of reckoning will come."

  She laughed lightly. “My, my. You sound so very serious today. My day of reckoning." She laughed again. "I can see why Captain Reed likes you. It must be the intensity. He is such an intense creature himself. He probably recognizes a kindred spirit.” She gave me an appraising look. “I certainly hope that intensity carries over into the bedroom. It would be such a waste otherwise.”

  “Keep Reed out of this," I said firmly. "He doesn't know who you are and I have no plans to tell him."

  Serena sighed dramatically. “Shame. I would enjoy watching you both squirm helplessly, watching the other one writhe in agony.”

  I squinted at her in disbelief. “How did you get so twisted?”

  She took another sip of wine. “Years of practice, darling. Years of practice.”

  “Annie, go rub your face against Pinky’s leg,” I told the enormous pig. We were sitting in Mix’s apartment with his pet pig, waiting for him to get home from work. Pinky’s efforts to find Mikaela through a locator spell using the black bra from Preston yielded no results. It was as though she’d vanished into thin air.

  “Annie’s totally welcome to hang with me,” Pinky said.

  Well, she’d certainly inherited her mother’s love of animals great and small. It was Serena’s one redeeming quality.

  Pinky scanned her text messages. “Tell me again why we have to break into Mix’s apartment instead of just waiting for him to get home.”

  “Because it’s fun,” I said simply.

  “Your idea of fun is weird.”

  At that moment, Mix unlocked the door and jumped back about a foot when he saw us. “What the hell, Alyse? A simple text to let me know you’re here was too tough?”

  I laughed and Pinky allowed herself a small smile. “Okay, maybe that was a little fun.”

  Mix glared at me. “How’d you get in?” He pointed to Pinky. “I’m guessing you.”

  “Actually the old-fashioned way.” I said. “I picked the lock.”

  Mix tossed his workbag onto the counter and retrieved a bottle of beer from the refrigerator.

  “I’d offer you something, but I’m sure you helped yourself already,” he said.

  “We did, thanks. That mango salsa was delicious, by the way,” I said.

  He groaned. “You’re the worst.”

  “And you’re the best.” I patted the sofa. “Now come sit next to me and work your magic.”

  “What do you need?” He plopped down beside me and sucked down his beer.

  “I need to trace a phone,” I said, and handed him the business card with Mikaela’s phone number scribbled on
it.

  “Someone wants you to locate a missing phone?” he queried. “That’s lame.”

  “It’s the person the phone belongs to, dumbass.”

  Next to me, Pinky snorted.

  “You’re working missing persons cases now?” he asked. “What does Thompson think about that?”

  “Why would she mind?” I asked.

  “Is the missing person a human?” he asked.

  “Yes, so what?”

  “That’s clearly the domain of the human police. Even Detective Thompson wouldn’t work that case.”

  “Detective Thompson gets paid to work paranormal cases. I get paid to work whatever the client needs. If that’s his missing teenaged daughter, then so be it.”

  Mix set his beer on the coffee table and pulled out his laptop. “Let me see what I can do after my already long day at work.”

  “Thanks, Mix.”

  His fingers flew across the keyboard at a rapid pace. Of all my supernatural friends, Mix was the most likely to survive without djinn magic in the human world. He’d honed his technology skills over the years and could cope perfectly well without the use of his Jann abilities. After all, how often did the IT department of the law firm require him to shift into a giant white tiger?

  “Her phone is here,” he said.

  “Here?” I echoed. “In Center City?”

  “Within a ten mile radius,” he said. “I’ll see if I can narrow it down.” He continued typing, and I could see Pinky’s admiration growing as she watched him work.

  “This is totally cool,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Mix said, his gaze fixed on the screen. “I come in handy on occasion.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “You really do.”

  He squinted at the screen. “The signal just died.”

  I peered over his shoulder. “What?”

  The blinking light was gone.

  “Give me time to work with it,” Mix said. “I’ll see if I can find another way to track it.”

  “Okay. Let me know as soon as you learn something.”

  No luck with a locator spell and now a dead signal? This wasn’t good news. Although I hated the thought of it, I was beginning to lose hope for Mikaela.