The Princess of Wands (Villainess Book 3)

by Alana Melos

  “I didn’t mean to,” I said quickly, wiping my blade on one of my sleeves to clean it before sheathing it and getting it out of his sight. “It was instinct. He was harassing a friend.”

  “You,” he said, glancing to Rebekah who squeaked when he turned his attention to her. “You’re banned for a week.”

  That wasn’t so bad. Maybe he wouldn’t….

  “Whimsy,” he said, turning his burning blue eyes to me. “You’re banned for life.”

  “What?!” I said. “That’s not fair! I was defending her!” Well, sort of. It was an excuse, anyway. If I worked real hard at it, it would even become truth to me but Malech didn’t care. We had broken his rules. No one broke his rules and left without punishment.

  “Please,” he said, his tone dripping with dark eagerness. “Please fight me on this.” When I opened my mouth to do just that, I saw Michael in the background shaking his head vehemently no. He even used exaggerated hand signals to catch my attention and, once he had, mimed slicing his own throat. When I looked to Malech again, the look on his gorgeous marble face made me pause. Here, in his place, it would be no contest.

  Fuck.

  I shook my head stiffly and curled my hands into fists. It was my own fault and I knew it. I let my irritation and shock get the better of me. No, wait, it was all Tim’s fault. He should have told me right at the beginning he was a white hat!

  Malech’s lips turned up in a cruel smile. “Pity,” he said.

  I looked past him to Michael, who kept shaking his head. Rory, looking confused, had come up behind him, beers in his hand. When he spotted the corpse on the ground, he grinned and gave me a shrug. Shit happens, he thought at me loudly. I ripped my eyes away from them and looked to Malech, opening my mouth to protest. I just couldn’t be banned for life… all the contacts I knew pretty much hung out here and this was the best place to shake a shadow.

  Before I could utter a single word, the surroundings changed around me. My stomach, already upset, lurched with the change as my mind tried to catch up. Rebekah and I stood just outside of the Underground in a different entrance than we’d entered. There was still a small line there waiting to get in and the bored looking sucky-bus who glanced at us and curled her lip up in derision.

  “What the--” Rebekah said, then wobbled a little as she got her equilibrium back.

  “He kicked us out,” I replied, huffing.

  “No, not that,” she said, and raised her hand to point away from the club.

  “Capricious Whim,” said a strong female voice. I looked up at where it came from, which just so happened to be where Rebekah was pointing. No less than a dozen officers in the dark blue and black of the ICPD stood there, along with a couple of others dressed more garishly: heroes. The woman who spoke stood in front of all of them, her long steel blue hair tied back in a ponytail underneath her cap. The amazon--she stood at least eight feet tall--wore a close match to the ICPD’s riot gear, sans the helmet: her uniform was dark blue and sleek, with armor over her chest and legs. She even had mirrored shades on. I knew who she was, though I’d never seen her in person: Bluecoat. “You’re under arrest.”

  “Fuck,” I swore softly under my breath. She was probably the second toughest white hat in the city, behind Imperius himself. Strength, speed, and invulnerability were her gifts, and she worked closely with the ICPD in their metahuman division. “This day cannot get any worse.”

  Later on, I would come to see how terribly naive those words were.

  Chapter Five

  The crowd behind us surged to get into the Underground and the sucky-bus let them, ushering them in while mouthing mocking words of comfort. It was like an Old West showdown; in a matter of seconds, the street was clear though people peeped from the windows to see what was going down, rubbernecking as people did at the site of accidents or crimes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if a tumbleweed had drifted between us, even though it was in the dead of winter and snowing.

  Rebekah began edging away from me, and Bluecoat pointed at her, “Freeze! Nacht Sirene! You are under arrest as well. Neither of you make any moves. This can go down easy, or really damn hard.”

  When she squeaked in indignation and put on her ‘I’m cute and innocent’ face, I shrugged at her. “Just ask for a lawyer,” I said. “Don’t say anything without a lawyer present.” Even though I kept my tone light, I was all business. I counted the minds present and there were fourteen cops sent after the both of us. Someone had called my presence in. It was good to be wanted… but this was a set-up. Septimus had turned us in. How else could they have been here so quick?

  “Put your hands in the air,” Bluecoat said.

  “And wave ‘em like we just don’t care?” I snarked as I reviewed my options. If Bluecoat got her meaty fists on me, it was game over. Unless I dropped the barrier in my mind to use my telepathy, but all of the regular cops were wearing helmets… and I would bet you anything those were of the psychic barrier variety. Bluecoat wasn’t, nor were the other two metas I saw with her in their own garish costumes. One red and orange with sleek lines, almost looking like racing stripes. I bet he either shot flames or lasers. The other was clad in light blue, with a cape which billowed around her. More than likely a weather or element controller of some type, and if it was an element it would be air or ice. One thing I still didn’t get about heroes and villains alike was how they dressed according to their powers. I would never give people a tip off so obvious like that.

  “Very funny,” the meta-cop said as she moved forward. “Get down on the ground with your hands up, and let’s make this easy for everyone.”

  “What are you arresting me for?” Rebekah said, reaching up and putting her goggles on. I knew she was getting ready to fight or flee. Either way, she wasn’t going to stand here and be arrested. I didn’t blame her. In the Reich, people who were arrested got disappeared. It wasn’t quite the same here, but close enough for horseshoes and hand grenades.

  “Three counts of burglary, one of corporate espionage, and the FBI wants to talk to you too, Sirene,” the hero said. She was close enough for a lunge now, while the other two metas flanked us. The rest of the cops stood there, weapons at the ready for any signs of movement.

  “Let me guess, murder, assault with intent to kill, burglary, and assault for me?” I said, tensing. The Siren glanced over to me and I upnodded. I waited for her. It wasn’t just that I wanted to act in a coordinated manner--though I did--but I wanted the cops’ first reactions to be geared towards her rather than myself.

  “Close enough,” Bluecoat said, unhooking a pair of manacles from her belt. They were bulky and big, but they looked like toys in her massive hands. Although the technology for meta-suppression wasn’t as advanced here as it was in Axis, the cops still had it. That’s why they were so big compared to Rebekah’s little silver bracelet. A fluttering thought crossed my mind--what if they got a hold of her bracelet? That would bode ill for everyone.

  The Nacht Sirene moved just as Bluecoat reached for her. She ducked back and threw a flash bomb grenade right into the meta cop’s face. When it went off, I shielded my eyes as best I could, though it still caught me by surprise and made stars dance in my line of sight. Smoke erupted from somewhere near Rebekah--I think she threw another grenade--and a dark clouded erupted from seemingly out of the ground. The cops began to fire and one of the bullets hit me… and bounced off. Rubber bullets. Good. They hurt like hell, but they wouldn’t slow us down too much.

  I slid to the side, trying to use the smoke for cover as I reached into my jacket and pulled out my mask. In honor of FU Night, black and red flames danced up the side of the strengthened porcelain mask. I put it on one-handed with practiced ease as I drew my sword with the other. Fire erupted in front of me and I jerked back. The pavement cracked and burned under the force of the blast and heat. For a heartbeat, I thought about leaving. I would have, but I couldn’t let the cops get the tech on the Siren’s arm.

  I couldn’t see her through th
e smoke, but I trusted they were going to take her in rather than kill her outright. Heat rushed over me and I threw up a telekinetic shield just as the flames came into view. They splashed off of the shield and I raised myself above the smoke to see the fire thrower. Keeping the shield raised, I charged him. He threw fireball after fireball. Each hit on my shield made fire rain down below, but caused me no harm at all. At the last second before collision, I dropped the shield and thrust with my blade. He dodged, but I chased him as he flew higher. Blasters like that were all cowards and not usually trained in hand to hand combat as they relied on their powers.

  Dodging and weaving, we flew around each other looking for an opening. The cops below didn’t fire, and I heard shouts erupt. Another flash went off and I surmised the Siren was still free. Another fire blast singed my jacket and I smothered it out with a thought I as moved. I hadn’t eaten in a while--having planned to later on--and I had limited resources, some of which I needed to keep to get Rebekah and I out of here.

  The blaster tried to keep his distance and attack at the same time. After the next few jets of flame, I noted he dipped to his left and used the same repetitive throwing motions. When I’d attack after the fire, he repeated the same dodge. I closed the distance once more, intent on making it the last time. When he attacked, I slashed. When he dodged, I twisted the cut and tagged him across the belly. It wasn’t deep, but it didn’t have to be. Time ticked away and the longer we fought, the less our chances to get out of this. I just wanted to drive him off.

  It worked. He shot up, clutching his stomach. I told you: they were all cowards.

  I turned to throw myself back into the fray, and I couldn’t move. Bonds made of nothing held me. I snarled, trying to move myself forward, down, to the side… anything. His partner had taken the opportunity to snare me in some sort of ball of hardened air. I couldn’t turn my head to see her, but I sensed her gloating, thinking I wasn’t so tough. Without any other option available, I dropped the barrier around the contamination in my mind. When I found the core of her thoughts, I found I couldn’t affect them in the slightest… just like that cop who had hunted me down before. The area around her head seemed to flex under my telepathic might, but wouldn’t break. Like the barrier around me physically, it was invisible but strong. I could “see” her, but I couldn’t touch her.

  A yell in German below alerted me to Rebekah’s situation. She shouted she was cornered. I couldn’t see her, but I scanned Bluecoat’s surface thoughts for information. They were trying to capture, not kill, and the hesitation would be their undoing. I saw glimpses of the Siren through Bluecoat’s thoughts, mostly on how she was hard to grab.

  I switched my mental track to the blue clad heroine who lowered me to the ground. I waited until my feet touched snow, then tried to focus on the device holding her thoughts at bay. I couldn’t see her directly and cast my mental net wider. One of the watchers from across the street had an unimpeded view of the fight. He was recording it, thinking he’d post it to the net later. Hmph. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Without him even knowing I was there, I looked through his eyes. The white hat who held me had no helmet. Considering the helmet of the other ICPD meta cop had held a device designed for protection against mind control, I surmised she had to be wearing something similar. It must have been an earpiece. Well, this was going to hurt her a lot more than it hurt me.

  A couple of the riot guard clad police officers approached me. As one of them grabbed my free hand and began pulling it behind my back, I concentrated on the heroine. The smoke had mostly been blown away by now, though wisps and tendrils impeded the watcher’s view. It had to be enough. Using my teke, I clamped her head in an imaginary vice and squeezed. My bonds broke instantly and I turned in the cop’s grasp, slashing with my sword. The blow glanced off his armor, but it was enough to make him shrink away out of instinct. Gunfire popped and the hard rubber pellets banged and bounced off the back of my trench. One hit me in the side of the head, shattering my concentration on the vice. When the heroine stumbled forward, I caught a glimpse of her. The bright red blood which leaked from the split skin spilled onto her outfit, making her look garish, only a shade away from horrific.

  The butt of a rifle hit my side. A rib cracked. Out of instinct, I threw everything around me away from me telekinetically. The cops went flying and I blinked, trying to orient myself. With the smoke down to just wisps and vapors, I saw the Siren cuffed and being dragged away. A large figure loomed in my field of vision, obscuring everything else.

  “One down, one to go,” the meta cop said as she reached for me. I spun out of reach and lashed out, hitting her armor with my weapon. From the corner of my eye, I saw the Siren bucking and thrashing like a wild woman trying to get free. She kicked one cop in the face and used the momentum to propel herself backwards, toppling over the other cop behind her. Even cuffed and powerless, she was dangerous.

  Ducking under Bluecoat’s next strike, I moved to the side and jabbed with my sword. Again, it deflected off the armor she didn’t need. She and I were moving too fast for me to get a bead on her head to crush the mental shield she had. If I slowed down, she’d get a hold of me. One slap from someone that strong and it would be lights out. The cops kept firing at me, heedless of the hero. They didn’t have to be careful; the rubber bullets couldn’t hurt her. I danced around the bigger woman, using her as a shield from the gunmen.

  I jabbed again, slicing her uniform as she punched at me. Her style reminded me of a boxer’s with her quick jabs and powerful haymakers. She was much lighter on her feet than I would have thought, and faster too. You never thought of the big metas as being fast, but most of them were. When they got an enhanced body, reflexes usually went with it and being strong meant more power to make you move fast. Just like mentats usually had more than one gift. Telepathy and telekinesis were the most often paired, but I’d met a pyrokinetic who had clairvoyance once. That had been a scary combination. She’d terrorized the city, setting fires at random everywhere and demanding no payment to stop. She torched the city simply to see it burn. So far as I knew, Mindfire still rotted away in the Citadel, the metahuman prison.

  As I moved, I heard the Siren’s shrieks and screams as she fought tooth and nail. With the fliers out for the moment, all I had to do was get away from Bluecoat long enough to yank the Siren out. Up, up, and away we’d go. I ducked another of her grabs as I chewed on how to do just that, and screwed up. The big woman did a leg sweep when I moved and I didn’t see it coming, not in her thoughts nor her body language. I didn’t get out of the way in time and her foot hit me high on my thigh, hitting higher than a normal sweep would. Kicked to the side, I fell to the ground, but rolled with the blow to come up on my feet. My thigh ached where she struck me. I knew it wasn’t nearly at full strength. It would be broken then. Maybe obliterated would be a better word for it. The muscle and fat on my thigh padded the blow, but I knew the bruise would still be dark as the ace of spades when I checked it later.

  The cops held their fire as more of them went to subdue the struggling Sirene. Without having to worry about the damn guns, I concentrated on Bluecoat. Each punch, I dodged. Each grab, I evaded. We were pretty evenly matched for speed, but no simple tripping trick would take her out like I’d done with Ger during our sparring match. I backed up faster than I needed to, luring her to overstep. When she did, I sidestepped her, grabbed her wrist, and used her momentum to throw her. She landed with a heavy crash and I wasted no time in lifting off. Ever fast, she caught my foot and pulled me down. I turned and slashed at her head. She caught the blade with her gloved hand.

  Well, crap. Bye-bye blade.

  I still jerked on it out of instinct, trying to free it. When the meta cop yelped and let go, I floated backwards out of reach, not expecting her to release me. She looked at her hand with a dumbfounded expression and I blinked, just as surprised as the big blue bimbo. I had cut her. She of the impervious skin had been cut.

  That changed
the game.

  The bright red blood on the palm of her hand spurred me forward. I smiled and lunged, sending a flurry of blows towards her oh so very unarmored head. She blocked most of them with her forearms, but soon she was bleeding from a half dozen cuts. None of them got deep, but that didn’t matter. I could win this.

  “How?” she gasped. “That’s impossible!”

  “You got me,” I replied as I thrust. She blocked with her arm again, using the armored pads to great effect as she shifted her fighting stance from defense to offense.

  When she attacked, she opened herself up. I redoubled my efforts. I used my teke to keep me in the air. On the ground, she had the height advantage. Now, I did. It wasn’t the same as fighting on the ground. I had to pay attention to my swordplay and my telekinesis, partitioning my mind to divert mental resources to both. My energy was running out fast. I was deadly in short, fast bursts. If it went on too much longer, I wouldn’t have the strength to get us out of here.

  When she grabbed for my leg, I allowed the catch. Wincing with pain at her impossibly strong grip around my ankle, I thrust towards her neck once she pulled me into range. That close, I didn’t miss. The white hat jerked her head to the side, but my blade sliced through her skin with no resistance. Blood spurted from the wound, covering my boots. She let go to clamp her hands over it. I didn’t think I’d hit the major artery or vein. Head wounds, even those on the neck, just bled a lot.

  Free now and not under attack, I turned my attention to the Siren. One of the riot vans had left. The remaining handful of cops fired as I flew by and a gout of flame joined them. I threw up a shield as I raced after the retreating van, pursued by the fire meta. He must have decided it wasn’t a fatal wound, or he’d healed enough to know he’d be OK and joined in the pursuit. Weaving back and forth as I flew, most of the fire missed, but a few licks of flame hit the shield. Every hit drained me more.