by TR Cameron
Fear coiled around her mind. She’d never been comfortable with that form of magic, a fact her great aunt was well aware of. Despite her misgivings, she took a deep breath and pushed but nothing emerged.
“Don’t force it,” her mentor whispered. “Release it and simply let it flow.” She nodded and adjusted her thinking to imagine a line extending from her hand to the enforcer illusion like a candle wick. With that in place, she focused her entire being on the idea of flames racing down it. The power erupted from her almost instantly, seared across the intervening space, and engulfed the target. Unfortunately, it also spread about ten feet in every direction and several small fires started when piles of debris ignited.
Fyre responded in an instant. He immediately became airborne and swooped to bathe the area with his frost breath. For good measure—or simply fun—he rolled like an old-school biplane and coated the target as well, then flew through it with his claws extended in a show of Draksa martial prowess. Both women laughed at the display, and the dragon lizard made a few more rolls in the air before he landed beside her with a strong flap of his wings and folded them primly along his body.
Her great aunt shook her head. “So, control is an issue. Under the circumstances, we probably shouldn’t practice fire anywhere other than here.”
Cali laughed. “So, no showing off at the tavern?”
“I think Zeb would be upset if you incinerated his guests. Or his furniture.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Depending on the guest, of course.”
The older woman put her hand on her shoulder. “You did very well today. Changing your use of force and accessing new magic is no small feat. You have what it takes to be a devastatingly powerful sorcerer.”
As they stepped through the portal, the statement she knew was inevitable was finally delivered. “You know, you could probably learn about how to do magic at the library. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”
Chapter Eleven
Tanyith pushed through the door of the Drunken Dragons, careful not to let it slam against the wall, and took his usual seat with its back to the entrance and nearest Zeb’s custom brew. The dwarf pulled him a tall glass, which turned out to be a delicious mulled cider. He’d learned the hard way that the cask tended to be far more potent than most of the other offerings at the tavern, and this was no exception.
They chatted for a minute before the bartender stepped away to exchange words with the annoyed redhead who’d bounded up from the common room. Cali looked physically none the worse for wear after her fight against the Atlanteans, but he imagined it might nag at her mind. Or she’s simply irritated because customers are sometimes the worst kind of people. He laughed. Me included.
His reverie was interrupted when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder. “Hey, Shale, what’s up?”
Without looking back, he replied, “Not a thing, Detective. Are you here for work or pleasure?”
Kendra Barton shrugged as she slid onto the seat closest to him around the curve of the bar’s corner. “Work is a pleasure, am I right?” She was definitely off-duty, though, since she wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a motorcycle jacket, none of which he’d seen her wear in her official capacity.
“Not as such. Whatcha drinking?”
“What do you have?”
“Alcoholic rocket fuel with hints of apple, cinnamon, and cardamom.”
She laughed. “Can I have a taste?” He slid the glass to her, and she took a sip, then another. “Damn, that’s fine stuff. Barkeep,” she called and when Zeb looked at her, she pointed at the cask. He nodded, and she shoved the glass to her companion after one last sip. The red-bordering-on-purple shade of her lipstick was stuck to the rim.
He tapped his finger on the bar. “So, technically, you evaded my question rather than answered it.”
The woman nodded. “I’m good like that. It’s one of my better qualities. Try another.”
“Are you here to see me?”
“Not specifically.”
“Cali?”
Barton turned to look at the common room and her head tracked the girl’s movements for a few moments before she turned back. “Not specifically.”
“Zeb then.”
She laughed. “As a bartender, very specifically.” Her glass appeared before her and she drank a third of it quickly.
“Okay, so you’re suffusing yourself with the magical community, I get it.”
“What are you doing, question man? Have you found a job yet? Or are you still playing at PI?” She leaned an arm on the bar and twisted toward him. Her dark eyes were piercing, which was doubtless an advantage in her line of work.
“I’m not playing. I’m private and I’m investigating. It’s work.” Work that isn’t going particularly well at the moment. “Chasing down leads.” Literally. “Putting the pieces together.” Hah. If only they’d fit. “You know how it is.”
The woman drained another third of her drink. “I do indeed know how that game is played.”
Tanyith scowled to cover his enjoyment of the banter. “Not. Playing.”
“Right. I forgot. Sorry. Hey, maybe you should get a Sherlock Holmes hat and one of those big magnifying glasses.”
“He was a detective, Detective. Perhaps you should.”
She laughed. “You might be right. I could totally rock that look.” She leaned closer to him. “Okay, for real, I did come here for a drink, but I also kind of hoped I’d run into you three. Caliste seems busy, so you’ll do.” She dipped a hand into the pocket of her jacket and slid a small waxy package to him. A faintly glowing blue powder rested inside and a red symbol appeared on the front. It looked like a shooting star or something.
He shifted his gaze to meet hers. “Is this what I think it is?”
The detective nodded. “It’s a new drug on the streets aimed at humans and distributed by Atlanteans. They call it Shine.”
He turned it in his hands, careful to hide it from outside view. “Holy hell. That can’t be good.”
“The people on the drug enforcement side of the house shared it with me. They think it’s merely more of the same. But, given what y’all have been involved in recently, I have some serious doubts about that.”
“Me too.” He thought about the implications. “They must be trying to cut into the Zatoras revenue, at least.”
“Yeah, and they don’t seem to be too happy about it. There were beatings and a couple of killings of Atlantean gang members. They didn’t have any drugs on them but it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.”
Tanyith caught Zeb’s eye and gestured for another round while he considered what she’d told him. “What do you think the Atlanteans are up to?”
“You’re the one with the inside track.”
He sighed. “I’m honestly not sure if you’re merely bashing me for no good reason or if you believe it.”
She finished her drink and leaned closer. “It’s the first one. I’ve had people watching you so I know you’re clean. At the moment, anyway.” She returned to her previous pose and sipped her second glass.
“So. Quit dodging and answer the damn question, then.”
“Okay.” Barton laughed. “There are a number of possibilities, any or all of which could be true based on my long experience with criminal organizations.” She counted them on her fingers. “One, it’s only a money-making ploy. Everyone needs money, especially those who need to show flash and success in order to stay in power.”
“That’s a given. Even stupid people like me could have come up with that one.”
“Two. It’s a deliberate strike against the Zatoras’ ability to make money for the same reasons in reverse. It would make them look bad and weaken the leader.”
“Okay, I can see that. When do we get to the part where your vast knowledge of criminal organizations comes into play?”
The woman stuck out her tongue at him, which probably didn’t achieve the effect she was going for since it made her seem less professional and m
ore fun. “Three—and here’s where the scary stuff starts—it’s a deliberate effort to weaken the humans in the city through drug addiction. We’ll know more about that when we get the tests back and have an idea about how potent it is.”
That possibility hadn’t occurred to him and the potential danger left him speechless for a moment. When he could make words happen again, he asked, “How likely is that? And how long before you have the results?”
Barton shrugged. “There’s no way to tell how depraved these bastards might be. We gotta plan for the worst. And hopefully tomorrow, maybe the next day. It’s fast-tracked, but the lab is busy, as always.”
“It must be hard putting yourself in that headspace.” He didn’t know the comment was coming until it was already out, and the look of pain that flickered across her face was equally unexpected.
She sipped her drink before she replied. “It can be but it comes with the territory.” She sighed. “And we haven’t even reached the worst one yet.” She lifted four fingers. “What if it’s a delayed poison? They could be out to kill everyone who’s not a magical.”
The shock of her words left him momentarily woozy. “That’s…insane.”
The detective nodded. “Yep. There are many crazies out there, though. Mind you, that’s worst-worst-case and unlikely.”
“What would you do if it turned out to be true?”
Her laugh was brittle. “Call in the National Guard, quit my job, and move to Kansas to become a corn farmer.” The image of her on a tractor in a straw hat surfaced, and he choked on the sip of cider he’d taken. She slapped him on the back several times before he regained his composure and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you all right over there?”
He nodded and his eyes watered. His voice was hoarse, unfortunately not in the leading man sexy kind of way. “Yeah. You. A farmer. Not likely.”
“I agree. So let’s hope option four doesn’t happen. Okay, tell me about your alleged job.”
“That will require a third round. Maybe something a little less potent, though.” Zeb was in earshot and delivered a winter lager from one of the local breweries. It complemented the cider, which proved once again that the dwarf knew his brews. Barton nodded in satisfaction after a sip. “So, I’ve been hired to find a guy who seems to have vanished into thin air.”
“By who?”
“An old friend. It’s not important. I’ve gone through all the people I know from the past who are still around. I track them, watch them for a while to make sure they’re not connected to the gang anymore, then have a chat with them. By now, I’ve talked to more than a dozen and a half and only a couple have had anything useful to share.” It was mostly the truth, although Dray’s connection to the gang activity in town retained an open question mark. The other man had been out of touch since their last meeting, and part of Tanyith worried about what he’d landed himself in by pretending to be interested in joining his team.
“So, you’re saying you’ve also identified some who are still with the gang?”
He shook his head. The woman is always working. “I guess I have.”
She leaned forward so they wouldn’t be overheard, even though the only one close enough to do so was Zeb or maybe Cali as she hurried past on the way to retrieve drinks. “Do you care to share?”
“You don’t quit, do you?”
Barton laughed. “Never.”
Tanyith took a deep breath and looked her squarely in the eyes. “What’s it worth to you?”
An elegant eyebrow raised in response. “If you rub my back, I’ll rub yours.”
A million flirty answers came and went in an instant, and he selected none of them. “Do you have access to police records on your phone?”
“Sure. We’re not complete Luddites.”
“Will you look someone up for me and forget about them?”
Without hesitation, she slid her hand into the inner pocket of her jacket and pulled a cell phone out. It was in a heavy black case with the NOPD logo on it. She set it on the bar so he could watch as she swiped to wake it, put her finger in a box that appeared on the screen, and entered an eight-digit code. In silence, she swiped through apps until she found the one she wanted, and when she tapped it, had to enter another numerical password. Finally, she said, “Okay, who’s the person?”
He sighed. “I notice you didn’t actually commit to forgetting about them.”
She gave him a smile that would have looked right on a movie star. Damn, no more drinking for you. He pushed his glass away. Barton gestured toward the phone. “Are we simply gonna dance all night, or will you make your move?”
“Try Adam Harlan.” He assumed the odds of the alias being in the system might be greater than the man’s real name. Or maybe he was still somehow trying to protect Sienna from the truth about her ex-boyfriend. Either way, I’m probably an idiot.
She typed it in and data scrolled on the device. “Okay, Adam Harlan. He was picked up several times for small stuff, including drug use but not dealing, and it looks like five arrests but no convictions. He’s a handsome fellow.” She held the phone up to display a mugshot that had captured him with dirty and tousled hair and a drugged expression. She returned to looking through the information. “Gang affiliations—oh, look, he was part of your old crew. Imagine that.”
“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”
“It says here he was also a person of interest in investigations with several other gangs, both magical and not. Your boy got around.”
“Why do you say that in the past tense?”
Her expression remained blank. “His records end about seven months ago.”
“Damn it.” He thumped his fist on the bar in frustration a little more powerfully than intended. “Can you try Harry? Harry Harlan maybe? It was a nickname.”
She stared at the record, then typed in a few words. “I’m updating the known aliases for Adam. Okay, let’s see what the new search brings.” Her eyes widened as the data scrolled. “There’s considerable chatter about a Harry, sometimes also using the word Harlan.” She looked at him. “Everyone’s looking for this guy, and not to shake his hand.”
“Including the police?”
Barton nodded. “Yeah. He’s into some stuff, man.” She turned the phone so he could see the details and he gaped in surprise. Murder was at the top of the list, and not only a single charge. “Shale—Tanyith, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I really don’t know.”
She snaked a hand out to catch his wrist. “I’d tell you to stop but somehow, I don’t think you’re smart enough to listen. So instead, let’s go fifty-fifty on this guy. I help you find him and you help me catch him so we can either protect him or put him away, depending on what’s actually going on.”
The seriousness of her grasp made him abandon the flippant reply that was his brain’s first offering. The happy haze of drinking had been banished by the cold shower of the new information about the man he thought he knew. He nodded. “Deal. I’ll start tomorrow.”
Chapter Twelve
Cali had kept an eye on Tay and Barton at the bar all evening and made up stories about their future lives together as a married couple as she worked the floor of the tavern. The crowd wasn’t bad for a Wednesday, all things considered, although an annoying group of drunken, cackling witches in the back corner was downright irritating.
Thoroughly disgusted, she stepped up to the bar and gave their orders to Zeb. “Honestly, if they’d drink something other than daiquiris, I’d probably have at least a little respect for them. But as it is, I think they’ll have to be banned forever.”
He laughed as he filled the order. “Now, now. Remember, those folks pay your salary.”
She snorted. “I can do without that portion.”
“Well, I can’t. This place costs money to run, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m aware.” She stacked the new drinks on her tray. “I couldn’t possibly help but be aware
, given how much you talk about it.” She spun away and headed to the crowd before he mustered a reply. Lame answer, Cali. Do better.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of service activities, trading quips with her boss, and trying to listen in on Tay’s conversation. Eventually, Barton left and looked a little unsteady as she crossed to the door. When closing time arrived, Tanyith was still in his seat. He helped with the final cleanup and ushered people out of the bar, then reclaimed his seat as she climbed onto the stool the detective had abandoned. Zeb shot a stream of soda water at Fyre, who was resting behind the bar, and they all laughed as he snapped at it exuberantly. He settled onto his belly and the dwarf lit his pipe and pulled a soft cider for each of them before he sat across the wooden surface from her.
“Good work tonight, Cali.” He usually gave her some kind of gruff compliment at the end of the evening. She was sure it was a technique he’d picked up from a management book or something.
“Yeah, it was a decent night, but the bartender has the worst attitude. I wish you’d fire him.” Another lame response. I think my sarcasm generator is broken. She turned to Tanyith. “So, you and Kendra had quite the conversation. Did you set a date for the wedding? Where will you go on your honeymoon?” That’s a little better but it’s still not up to my normal standards. I must be tired. And why am I talking to myself? She sighed and took a sip of her cider, then focused her sleepy brain on the man across from her.
He rolled his eyes, but his heart wasn’t in the banter either. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re thinking New Atlantis. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
Cali laughed. “You’d probably be eaten by a monster octopus en route or something, the way our luck is running.”
Zeb interjected, “Speaking of luck, have you made any progress on your mystery man?”
Tanyith shrugged. “Nothing particularly useful. He’s in the system and Barton will run more searches to see what she can dig up. But pinning him down at any particular time or place is difficult, present or past.”