Power Mage 2

by Hondo Jinx

  “Put your hands in the air, or I’ll blow you to hell,” Brawley said, rising from the tall grass with the XDS trained on her.

  “Is that you, handsome?” Remi said, her voice sly. She raised her hands slowly into the air without turning around. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you.”

  “Talk, huh? In what language, Mossberg?”

  Remi laughed. “Oh, don’t mind that old thing. It’s just—”

  She moved with superhuman speed, squatting and spinning in a blur, scooping the shotgun into her hands and swinging it around in his direction.

  But Brawley had been ready.

  The medicine ball hurtled like a cannonball and slammed into the barrel of the Mossberg. He put a lot of telekinetic force into the throw, and the shotgun’s barrel kicked back and smashed into Remi’s face, splitting her forehead and knocking her on her ass.

  “Drop the shotgun, or I’ll shoot you,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

  Remi tossed the shotgun aside and smiled, bright red blood draining from the gash in her forehead. “Pretty sneaky, handsome.”

  Smirking, Remi stood and put her hands on her head. Her mesmerizing breasts wobbled, barely contained in the black tank top. In the pale moonlight, her muscles rippled, making her tattoos shift and crawl like living murals.

  Remi stared with gleaming eyes, beautiful and deadly. The line of blood draining from the cut in her forehead slowed and stopped, and as Brawley watched, the gash sealed itself from bottom to top, knitting the flesh smoothly together and closing tight as a zipper.

  “Who are you working for?” he asked.

  “What’s it matter?” Remi said. “Everybody’s after you. And even those who aren’t will be soon.”

  “Who are you working for?” he said again.

  “The Order,” she said. “Why don’t you let a pretty girl like me take you in, get her bounty, and save you the messy trouble of getting yourself and your girlfriend killed a few miles up the road?”

  “That’s all right, darlin,” he said. “I believe we’ll just carry on and take our chances.”

  Remi laughed dismissively. “You have no idea what you’re up against, Brawley Hayes.”

  That stopped him. “How do you know my name?”

  Remi grinned. “I’m the best, handsome.”

  “Be more specific, or I’ll pull this trigger.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Such a sour puss. I know people at Blue Heaven. They shared your image from security camera footage. I know someone else who knows someone else who knows someone else who just happens to have access to the FBI’s facial recognition database. I have to say, I’m impressed. World champion bull rider, huh? How’s the neck?”

  “The neck’s fine,” he said. “You mean to tell me the FBI has my name?”

  “Not officially,” Remi said. “Though if I end up dead, I figure that friend of a friend of a friend might hear about it and spread the word.”

  “Well, I don’t want to shoot you almost as bad as you don’t want to get shot, I reckon. Almost, that is.”

  “You wouldn’t actually shoot an unarmed woman, would you?” Remi said, taking a small step in his direction.

  “Not another step, darlin,” he said, his voice as hard and flat as a coffin lid. “I don’t make a habit of shooting unarmed women, but I will make an exception if you don’t stop creeping.”

  Remi beamed with mischievous amusement, as if they were two kids playing tag instead of a pair of lethal adults teetering on the edge of life and death. Then she shrugged. “It’s a close thing, right? There’s what… ten yards between us? Nine?”

  “More like six or seven,” he said.

  She raised one eyebrow. “I might be able to reach you before you could even pull that trigger.”

  “Because you’re a Carnal.”

  Remi nodded. “Yes, because I’m a Carnal. And because I’m awesome.”

  “You have plenty of juice right now?”

  “Oh yeah, handsome,” she said, swaying seductively back and forth. “Full power. My body can do amazing things.” Her breasts swelled, straining forward, nearly popping free of her top, and her abdomen undulated like that of the world’s greatest belly dancer.

  “Neat trick,” he said, annoyed to realize he was rock hard, “but don’t think I missed you inching forward.”

  Remi grinned, blushing cutely and batting her lashes. “Oh my, but you’re an observant one, Brawley.”

  “So you’re saying you still have enough juice to fight or fuck?”

  “You know it,” she said, and ran her tongue across her lips, eyeing him lasciviously. “I have enough juice for both, if you’re in the mood.”

  “I’m always in the mood, darlin, but I don’t think I’d like how things would end if you and me had a roll in the hay.”

  “It would be worth it,” Remi said, grinning slyly. “Trust me, cowboy. It would be the best night of your life… even if it was the last.”

  “Well, you sure are easy on the eyes, and you talk a good one. So you’re telling me you have plenty of juice. Enough to heal yourself.”

  “Why, Brawley Hayes, you kinky devil. Yes, I’m strong enough to heal from whatever twisted shit you wanted to do to me.” She inched closer. “What are you, some kind of sadist?”

  “No,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

  9

  “Son of a whore!” Remi hollered, lying on her back, covered in blood.

  He’d punched a hole through her hip and likely blown out a good portion of her ass cheek in the process. By the way she’d dropped he figured he’d shattered her pelvis, too. That ought to slow her down for a tick or two.

  She lifted her head and glared at him. “That fucking hurt, you asshole!”

  He walked around her, cutting a wide berth, keeping his pistol trained on her pretty face. “You weren’t taking me at my word. Now you know I mean what I say. You force me to pull this trigger again, the next one’s right between the eyes. Understand?”

  “Fuck you, asshole.”

  “Remi,” he said, “I need you to say it.”

  “Say what, you crazy son of bitch?”

  “Say you understand that if you try anything else, I’m going to shoot you between the eyes.”

  “All right, I understand,” she growled. “Okay? Shit, this hurts.”

  But even as she bitched, he could see her crumpled pelvis reflating, and when she rolled onto her side, pressing both hands to her lap, he saw that her ass had knitted back together. The same could not be said for her leather pants, across the seat of which gaped a large hole that gave him a window onto the smooth and sexy curve of her completely healed ass cheek.

  The RV door swung wide, and his psi-wives leapt out, firearms at the ready.

  “Ohshitpissfucktool!” Nina spat, clamping her foil hat to her head with one hand and pointing the Mac-10 at Remi with the other.

  Sage held the Glock 43 in a perfect shooter stance, just like he’d shown her.

  Making the scene stranger still, both women were stark naked.

  “Oh,” Nina moaned, “this is sooooo fucking bad, man.”

  “You got that right, sweetie,” Remi growled. “You and Brawley are fucked now.” Her eyes, blazing with rage, twisted toward Sage. “Who the hell are you?”

  Sage smiled politely and wrinkled her nose, squinching her glasses higher up the bridge. “I’m a very dear friend of yours.”

  “Bullshit,” Remi said. “You—” But she stopped, and the anger fled from her eyes, replaced by a cloud of confusion. “I—”

  Sage laughed pleasantly. “I am your friend. Someone you wish to protect. In fact, we are all your friends. You would love to stay, but unfortunately, you must return to Key West.”

  Remi nodded. All the tension left her muscles. An easy smile came onto her pretty face.

  Then she noticed Brawley and frowned, looking more confused than angry. “Hey Brawley, why are you pointing that thing at me?” She squinted as if remembering somethi
ng and looked down at herself. “Wait, why did you shoot me?”

  “He didn’t shoot you on purpose, sweetie,” Sage cooed. “It was an accident, remember?”

  Remi nodded.

  “Think about it,” Sage said. “If Brawley ever decided to shoot you, he would kill you with the first shot. He’s much more powerful than you. Faster, stronger, more deadly. The best shot in the world. You would be foolish to ever challenge him.”

  Remi kept nodding, appraising Brawley with impressed eyes.

  “It’s a good thing we’re all friends,” Sage said. “You would do anything for us.”

  “I would,” Remi said, standing up and dusting herself off. “I really would.” Then, casually, to Brawley, she said, “Wanna fuck?”

  Brawley grinned, appraising the gorgeous badass. That would be one hell of a ride, and he could open his third strand, allowing them to skip Miami and head straight for God’s country.

  But he would never bang a hypnotized girl, especially one he’d just shot. Taking advantage of Remi in her current state would amount to rape, plain and simple, and that was something he would never do, thank you very much.

  Besides, bonding was for life, and Remi clearly had more issues than Sports Illustrated.

  “Thanks for the offer, darlin,” he said. “I’m sure it’d be the ride of a lifetime, but we gotta get on up the road.”

  “Let me come,” Remi said. “I have to keep you safe.”

  “That’s kindly nice of you,” Brawley said, “but we’ll be all right. Besides, we have something we need you to do. A couple of things, actually.”

  “You can count on me,” Remi said.

  “First of all,” he said, and released a trickle of Seeker juice. He didn’t know if it was strictly necessary, what with Remi being in such a suggestive state, but he wasn’t taking any chances. “Tell us who hired you.”

  “Jamaal Whittaker,” Remi said without hesitation.

  Nina stomped her feet rapidly up and down, making her naked body jiggle in a very distracting way. “Jamaal? Fuck, this is so bad. Did he say anything about my dad?”

  Remi shook her head. “But I wouldn’t worry about Jamaal. He’s tied down until morning. That’s why he’s not hunting you himself. He has a meeting with the Central tomorrow.”

  Brawley nodded. That was good news. Gave them a bit of a head start.

  “The psi mob is coming for you,” Remi said. “Dutchman has a pair of legit hitmen, Uno and Dos. I doubt he’ll send both because the psi cartel will probably move on him as soon as they hear about Junior. But who knows?” She shrugged her sculpted shoulders. “Junior was his son, and blood makes people crazy.”

  “That’s the truth,” Brawley said. “Who else is hunting us?”

  “The FPI for sure, after your gun shop shootout,” Remi said. “Don’t look so surprised. I heard about it on the scanner and put two and two together.”

  Remi glanced down the highway. “So yeah, the FPI is flying here in full force. The local cops are hunting you, too, but their heads are so far up their asses, they should quit chasing you and use their time to learn Braille. Come sunrise, more players will enter the game. The separate orders will join, wanting to curry favor with the Order. Some juice-head Chaotics will join the chase, hoping to render you like organ thieves.”

  Let them come, Brawley thought. He’d pound their points like a beer on a hot day.

  “Other than that,” Remi said with a grin, “every single psi chick in Florida will be hunting that power mage dick of yours.” She stared at his crotch and licked her full, ruby red lips.

  “That’s it?”

  Remi nodded. “More or less. Beware of Uno and Dos. They’re pros. And don’t let the FPI get you in a corner. Give them the upper hand, and they’re ruthless. But honestly, your biggest problem is the Order. Those fuckers do not play.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up,” he said, taking it all in. More than ever, he just wanted to hole up and hunker down, but he knew that would only delay the inevitable. With all these high-powered assholes hunting him, the only sensible course of action was opening his five remaining strands and going full power mage.

  “Happy to help,” Remi chirped. “Was there something else? You said you wanted me to do a couple of things.” Stepping forward, she smiled up at him and ran a finger across his face, tracing his jawline. “Sure you don’t want me to give you the night of your life?”

  “That would be sweeter than strawberry pie,” he said, surprised to find that he was hard again, “but we have important business on up the road. Here’s what I’d like you to do, darlin. Go back to Jamaal and tell him that Dutchman’s assassins beat you to us. You found our corpses.”

  A pained expression twisted Remi’s beautiful features. “Oh, I can’t even bear the thought.”

  “You will do it for us,” Brawley said, releasing another trickle of juice. “Tell Jamaal we’re dead. He’ll quit hunting us for a bit, and that’ll buy us a minute.”

  Remi nodded. “I’ll do it. But I wouldn’t worry much about Jamaal. Much scarier agents are approaching. And if the woman coming from Central is who I think she is…”

  “Who?”

  Remi hesitated for a second, looking grim. “The Dragon.”

  10

  Brawley drove slowly through the trailer park. Here and there, lights were on, but most of the homes were dark.

  “I just know Remi is going to snap out of it and come after us again,” Nina moaned.

  Brawley wasn’t sure which was more fucked up, shooting Remi or brainwashing her. Not that he would change a thing. Self-defense was self-defense.

  “She undoubtedly will,” Sage said. “However, she will remain convinced of our friendship until something jars her hard enough to make her question everything. And in the meantime, our wonderful husband disposed of the transponder unit she had hidden in his backpack.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Nina said. “That bitch will find us. Trust me.”

  A psychic wind ruffled the surface of Brawley’s intuition, shifting his sense of anticipation toward a feeling of expectation.

  “We’re getting close,” he said.

  “Yeah, it’s just up ahead,” Nina said.

  To the right, a pair of weather-beaten high-top sneakers hung from the power line in front of one particularly rundown trailer. Its driveway was overflowing with cars. Eight or ten hard-ass types lounged around a firepit, drinking forties and smoking weed. Brawley took in their tats, sagging pants, and the shiny chains hanging around their necks.

  As the RV rolled past, several of the thugs hauled pistols from their waistbands, posturing like a pack of feral dogs raising their hackles.

  “There,” Nina said, pointing to a darkened trailer on the other side of the bumpy lane.

  Brawley killed the lights, pulled into the driveway, and parked beside a rusted Ford Focus with a dented fender and a sheet of plastic duct taped over the passenger window.

  They got out.

  Rap music thumped and jabbered across the road.

  That was aggravating. Neighbors were trying to sleep. Working people, kids, the elderly.

  He glanced in that direction and saw thugs eyeballing them. Staring but staying put. For now, at least. But you never knew with a crew of drunk, bored dudes in the middle of the night.

  Inside the darkened trailer, a dog started barking. A small dog, from the sounds of the yapping, and that came as a relief, because in Brawley’s experience, trailer park dogs tended to come in two varieties: ankle biters and pit bulls.

  Nina climbed the rickety steps and knocked gently at the door.

  “I got a feeling she already knows we’re here,” Brawley said, “what with the dog and all.”

  Through the door a woman’s voice hissed, and the little dog stopped barking.

  The door opened several inches, and a tired-looking woman in a long white t-shirt leaned into the gap beyond the screen door. Her puffy eyes had dark circles beneath, suggesting she hadn’t ha
d enough sleep for a long, long time.

  The little dog appeared at her side, its eyes very bright and black and round in a sea of white fur. Brawley didn’t know the breed. He’d always had dogs, mostly collie mutts, but he didn’t know shit about little dogs other than they were ten times more likely to bite you than other breeds.

  They seemed about half cat to him. But he liked them all right. Hell, they were dogs, and dogs beat people any day of the week. This little fucker stood there shaking like the coils on a rattlesnake, a constant growl humming in his tiny throat.

  “What the hell, Nina?” the woman said. “It’s one in the damn morning.”

  The woman glanced at Brawley. A strange, prickling warmth crawled over his mind and whipped away.

  “Yeah, it’s actually closer to one fifteen,” Nina said, “Sorry, Tammy, but—”

  Tammy waved her off. “I know why you’re here, and I have an idea of what happened. Shit. Come on in. But for fuck’s sake, be quiet. You wake the kids, I’ll skin you alive.”

  The dog barked again when they stepped into the gloom, but Tammy snapped her fingers and hissed “Luna,” and the little dog shut up.

  Brawley crowded in alongside his women, who stood just inside the trailer, which wasn’t much bigger than the inside of his RV and nowhere near the size of his double wide back home. The place was dingy but clean despite a colorful menagerie of dolls and dump trucks strewn across the dark shag of the living room carpet like the aftermath of a Toyland tornado. An AC unit hummed in one window, but the air was still hot and stuffy and smelled of diapers, dogs, and stale cigarette smoke.

  “Pardon my mess,” Tammy said, sweeping a pack of cigarettes off the countertop. “The maid ran off with the groundskeeper, and I’m having a hard time staying on top of things. Go ahead and close the door. Those boys across the street probably won’t give you any shit. Better safe than sorry, though. They see these two hotties, they might take a notion. And lock up your vehicle.”