My Luck (Twisted Luck Book 1)

by Mel Todd

  "Well, if you got married, then you'd be my sister-in-law and you'd never be able to escape my clutches, so it does have its benefits."

  "Yes, but that would mean I was having sex with your bother."

  "Oh… ewww… yeah no. You're stuck with me as BFF instead. So, what's up?"

  "Well, all the water from my hot water heater is currently spilling out over the garage floor."

  "That would qualify as a problem. Yep, I'll grab him. Need me to bring anything else?"

  "Well, I've got a lot to tell you, but I think I have chips and salsa your mom gave me, so we should have snacks."

  "Hmmm… we'll see. Be over in a few." Jo hung up and I went to clean up my refrigerator. It didn't matter. I had family, chosen family, and I was starting to believe that just maybe they would be there for me always.

  Chapter 26

  Rasputin – even to this day his name can cause shivers of horror in those who knew of his reign of terror. Even though he worked with Lenin, it is speculated he drove Lenin's desire to control all mages. From what he was seen performing, most figure he was a Spirit merlin. Proof that the school of mage you have access to has nothing to do with the type of person you are. ~Famous Mages

  I need to convince them to install speech to text on their computers. They spend way too much time writing reports.

  After the last two weeks of doing a ride along with Sam, I'd come to a few more conclusions.

  Cops had to write lots of reports.

  Most people were idiots.

  I didn't mind the investigation part but dealing with people was annoying.

  That conclusion surprised me, to be honest. I thought I'd gotten good at letting people's little quirks and being obtuse slide off of me after all my years working at Grind Down. I'd had to argue with someone that an eight-ounce drink and a cup were the same amount of fluid. I even had to prove to someone that our medium at ten ounces was less than the large at sixteen ounces. They swore up and down that it was one point six, not sixteen.

  All of that meant that I thought I'd be able to handle people being silly or stupid in the line of enforcing the law.

  I was wrong, very, very wrong.

  The proof of that was a woman Sam pulled over for weaving across the lanes. It was about three in the afternoon and we were headed back to the station Friday to finish paperwork and kick me out. I was ready to go home. It had been a long week.

  "Stay by the car and watch. I want to make sure there isn't anything dangerous going on. Most likely she's looking at her phone and I'll be writing a ticket."

  I nodded. So far, he'd written at least five tickets for using a cell phone while driving. I could barely manage to walk and use one, so driving and doing that seemed reckless to me.

  Sam got out and I did too, my radio at the ready. That was the best part of having me there, I could call things in, call for back up, or whatever was needed. Half this week we'd spent going over all the call signs. I was surprised to realize the variation of signs between different departments but learning them wasn't an issue.

  He walked up to the driver's side of the cute little sports car. It was bright blue, with only room for two people in the front. A two door, and I wanted it with an odd wistfulness.

  "Ma'am, please lower the window," I heard him say as he stood by the car door. From my angle I couldn't see the window come down, but I could hear the radio on in the car, so I assumed she had complied.

  "Ma'am have you been drinking?" He'd reeled back a bit as the window came down. I titled my head back a bit, but nothing caught me. In in this instance it would have been excellent to be an Air mage and have the scent swirl to me, but it didn't.

  Whatever she responded with I either I missed or couldn't hear, but I heard him next. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the car."

  The door opened as he stepped back from it. It was a woman about Marisol's age, her business suit a shade too tight, and she had a full head of fake blond hair in a tight cut against her head, so most likely not a mage, not with hair that short.

  I moved to the driver's side of the squad car so I could see better. and to make sure I didn't miss if Sam needed me to get help.

  "Ma'am, may I see your identification, please?"

  "I already told you, I only had one drink. I'm fine," she protested, her hands on her hips, even as she swayed back and forth on heels that were taller than a medium coffee. I knew if I tried to wear those I'd hurt myself, badly.

  "I still need to see your ID, please." Sam stayed calm and professional even as she bent over to get her purse out. Even me, with my almost famous obtuseness to sexual innuendo didn't miss her tight skirt and the way she waved her ass at him. Granted she had a good figure, but when she came back up I saw her face and blinked. I hadn't seen that much makeup on a face since I went to the circus and got freaked out by clowns.

  "Here. See, I'm legal. I just need to get back to my job." Even her speech slurred a bit and I wasn't sure why she'd even tried to drive. "I only had a martini, well maybe two, but I'm fine." She leaned forward and slurred a bit. "I'm a functioning alcoholic. Have to be. Only way to survive the stress. I don't get drunk."

  "Ma'am, can you walk on the line between here and my partner standing over there?"

  I had a giddy reaction to being called his partner and stood up a bit more. Stupid, but it felt good.

  "Fine, but I'll have your badge for this." She started walking towards me swaying like a flag in a stiff breeze. Personally, I was glad there was very little traffic here, given how badly she stumbled and weaved.

  "Cori, will you please get the breathalyzer out of the back?" He'd followed her, watching with an annoyed expression. I was getting good at reading Sam.

  "Sure." A minute later I had the kit for him. It rather reminded me of a stud finder used in construction. He put a clean cap on it and had her breathe into it.

  "I'm not drunk. You'll see. I've barely had a drink."

  "Of course, ma'am." He looked at the numbers and held it out to me. I raised my eyebrows. Driving while under the influence rates were one of the things we went over. And anything over a blood alcohol content .08 in Georgia was legally drunk. She was at a 1.3 BAC.

  "How in the world did she drink that much and still get served?"

  "Ma'am, please put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for driving while under the influence." Sam, at this point, had passed into really annoyed.

  "I told you, I'm not drunk. Now let me go."

  "Ma'am, please."

  "No!" She turned and swung a fist at him. As she did, she fell backwards, her heel snapping, and she landed on her ass.

  "And now I'm adding the charge of assaulting an officer."

  The next hour, all through the ride back, the booking, and the blood test she continued to protest that she wasn't drunk That she hadn't swung at Sam and that she must have been drugged.

  By the time we were done it was six P.M.

  "Are all people that stupid?"

  Sam laughed. "You be amazed at how many people ignore what is in front of them. They don't want to admit they did anything that might get them in trouble. Or worse, change how they view themselves. We lie to ourselves more than anyone else."

  "Maybe. But still, that scares me."

  "Good. It means you'll pay more attention to people and think about what lies they are telling themselves. Like, I can have one more drink. Or, no one will notice if I just steal one thing. People need to protect their view of themselves more than most things."

  I had thought about that over the weekend a lot. By the end of this I might be even more cynical than I already was. That was a sobering idea.

  But outside the drunk driver and the exciting start of the first week, it had been relatively routine. I suppose I should have expected the universe was just saving up energy to mess with us the next week because it started with a bang. Monday had been a normal class day with more practice in medical stuff, which I loved, and I was feeling pre
tty good passing all the tests on medical procedures. So that hadn't worried me much.

  Tuesday, I came in with my normal coffee for me and Sam. The extra money from the Munroe's had made it so I didn't mind doing this little splurge, plus next week I'd get another paycheck. That excited me as much as anything else did. Maybe I could get some nice clothes for Atlanta.

  "Hey, Cori, thanks" His response was abstract and distant as he accepted the coffee. "Ready to go? We're going to have a busy day."

  "Sure. What's going on that makes this different from last week?"

  "Big rally in town for a motorcycle club. They are out at the fairgrounds, but historically they've drifted out of the zone a bit. So, we need to make sure they don't cause any issues." He headed to the car and I followed trying to remember if I'd ever heard about this.

  "This happen every year?"

  "No. Every four. They rotate out to different areas—apparently they are a pretty big group." Sam looked worried as he slid into the car.

  "What aren't you telling me?"

  "The club is called Bad Ass Mages. Or BAM. To even apply to the club, you have to be at least a wizard. And even the girlfriends or wives have to meet that rank requirement."

  I buckled in and looked at him feeling my stress ratchet up a bit. "You're telling me we have a biker gang made up of nothing but mages here in town?"

  "Yep. And it means we need to be extra cautious. While true rogue mages are rare, if only because the people that hunt them don't allow them to ever serve time, asshole mages are common."

  "Oh. So, be extra polite?"

  He gave me a cynical smile. "It means yell for help if you think you need it. No one is going to criticize you for over-reacting. There are some archmages coming in for extra shifts. Their call codes are here." He said that as he taped a piece of paper to the dash. "If anything goes sideways, you get on the radio and yell for these people."

  Working with the cops had just gotten more real. Up until now, I'd still felt a bit like an actor in a boring movie. But that was the goal of the police, to be bored. I suddenly got that being bored was an excellent goal. Maybe I should try it more often.

  "Absolutely. So, what's the plan for today?"

  "Mostly patrolling, but the schedules have been changed so we all go by the fair grounds to make sure we have a strong presence there and keep an eye on things. The last thing anyone wants is to provoke them, but at the same time we don't want them to think no one is paying attention."

  "Sounds like a delicate balance to keep."

  "Welcome to the exciting world of police work." Sam smiled at me and he seemed less tense than a few minutes ago. "But I think this day will require extra coffee." He reached back and pulled out a large travel mug. "Nothing fancy this time, just black coffee with a couple squirts of syrup. Enough to enjoy the flavor."

  "I think that can be arranged."

  We drove out and I watched the city, the areas of fields and trees, wondering if lurking behind one of them was danger. I'd always liked the idea of dragons or some of the other magical creatures that occasionally appeared but working with the police was making me realize that people were the worst dangers of all. It didn't really surprise me, but it was a mindset adjustment. Most of the bodies or people I found were freak accidents, almost never were other people involved. Just fate.

  After a quick stop at Grind Down, we headed out. We hadn't even made it more than a half hour into our day when the first call came over the radio. The code sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it immediately.

  "Which call is that?"

  "Suspected overdose. They'll have an ambulance on the way too, but because of where it is, they want me to go in first and make sure it isn't a danger."

  "Where is it?" That confused me. Rockway didn't exactly have a bad side of down, or places where it was dangerous to go. So where would it be happening at that they wanted cops there first?

  "Where else? The fairgrounds." With that, he flipped on his lights and we took off. My stomach had tightened into a knot of worry with the sirens and lights announcing our presence to the world as we pulled into the fairground. The back area was covered with RVs, motorcycles, tents, small campers, and sometimes just a cot near a bike. We were waved down by a man in leather who looked like a stereotypical biker, but the Chaos symbol on his temple gleamed out at us, reminding me exactly what we were walking into.

  He didn't look threatening. If anything I'd say he looked exasperated.

  "Officer," he said leaning down. "George is over there. No one else is around for the most part. They went on a scenic ride. Bus coming up behind you?"

  "Yes. Where is George, you said?"

  The man stood up and pointed down the road to a tent that looked like all the others with a big three wheeled motorcycle outside it. Sam nodded at him and drove down there slowly, watching everything. He'd shut off the siren, but still had the lights going. Once he reached the tent, he opened the door.

  "You know the rules: stay watchful, yell for help if we need it."

  I nodded, but as I looked around this all seemed so normal, not really scary like we were about to be attacked. Maybe just false confidence, but it still seemed odd to have it be so normal after how much I'd worked it up in my mind.

  Chapter 27

  Spirit is the rarest of the classes and its branches possibly the most misunderstood. Everyone knows that a Psychic can read your mind and a Soul can see ghosts, but as science understands the skills that isn't accurate. A Soul mage can see, feel, and hear imprints of emotions and some of those emotions are solid enough to form ghosts. But nothing has offered any evidence that the soul can be manipulated at all. ~ Magic Explained

  Never, ever think it is boring and routine, 'cause that's when it bites you.

  The thought seared into my mind as I dove back into the car, slamming the door as a huge dog that wasn't a dog came bounding out of the tent growling at us. It stood about three feet at the shoulder and if I'd seen it in the woods, I would have thought it was a werewolf. Even if they only existed in fiction, that's what I would have thought it was.

  "Dahli, down. They're here to help George." The man who'd met us at the turn in yelled at the werewolf, Dahli, as it stood in front of Sam, growling loud enough that I could feel the vibrations in the car. Sam had his hand on his pistol, but there was no way to pull it before Dahli could have ripped out his throat.

  "Dahli, I mean it. Or we'll just let George die like the idiot he is, then where will you be?" The man had gotten closer and had quit yelling.

  The growling stopped and the dog—oddly it almost looked like a dog now—whined and went over to the man, collapsing at his feet, huge head on its just as huge forepaws.

  "Ignore Dahli. She's George's familiar and is a bit protective. I swear if it wouldn't kill her, I'd kill him for causing her so much stress and worry."

  Sam, whose face had gone pale, nodded. "In the tent?"

  "Yep. Not sure why they sent the cops out for this, though." The man sounded bewildered as he crouched down and rubbed Dahli's ear with one hand.

  "Standard protocol for drug overdose in a potentially dangerous situation," Sam said as he cautiously stuck his head in the tent, then backed out. "What'd he take?"

  "Drug overdose? Take? Things really do get corrupted as it travels from person to person. George is diabetic. He took too much insulin. I've got him stable, but I can't do anything more without the right drugs. Normally he monitors it better, but he couldn't resist the cinnamon rolls this morning, then tried to balance it out. Took too much. Really need the bus here."

  "Crap," Sam muttered and I opened the door cautiously, watching the not-dog as I did so. Sam jumped on the radio. "Escalate the bus to my location. Diabetic coma, not an OD."

  I heard the response and went over. "Want me to get him out so they can help faster?"

  "Yes, please." It only took a minute to pull the man out from the tent on his foam mat. Older, obviously overweight, with a spirit tattoo bright on
his temple. The whine of the sirens coming up the drive let us know help was almost here.

  "No, you can't go, Dahli. Let them take care of him. You freak out too many people." The man paused, looking at the dog and sighed. "Then next time be a cute cuddly cat or a Pomeranian, not something from most of our nightmares."

  "I thought," I stopped myself from saying werewolf—barely—"Dahli was George's familiar."

  The ambulance came and two people I didn't recognize jumped out, headed over, and immediately started working on George. I stayed out of the way, since I wasn't allowed to jump in and help no matter how much I kept running through all the procedures in my head for a person in a probable diabetic coma. They really shouldn't have gotten the call messed up. The time might make a difference in his survival but then again, mages tended to be tough.

  "Oh, she is. But familiars can talk to anyone they want to. If they want to. That is usually the catch. They seem to find only their chosen mage worth talking to."

  "They're intelligent?"

  Dahli sniffed at me in a disparaging manner, but she kept her eyes on her mage, now being loaded onto a gurney.

  "Very, but they aren't human, so their reactions and thoughts don't always make sense to us. Sometimes they freak us the fuck out." The man laughed, but his eyes tracked George. "What hospital will they take him to? He's got VA coverage, did his four years then another decade in the army."

  "Kennestone," one of the paramedics said as they buttoned him up. He glanced at Dahli. "While she can come see him, it would be nice to wait until he's in a room."

  "Thanks." The man stood and looked at us. "Thanks for the help, officer, ma'am." Then he walked away with the werewolf trailing after him, tail between her legs.

  I didn't say anything until we were back on the road. "That was both more and less than what I expected it to be."

  Sam laughed. "The BAM can be scary and a pain in the ass. But they aren't ronin. They are still subject to rules. They are just a pain in the ass because it's the equivalent of walking through a room of ticking bombs. You never know when one, none, or all of them might go off."