by TR Cameron
“They were nice people,” she said as she pushed through the curtain and closed it carefully behind her.
“They seemed so. Did the runes work?”
“Of course. I never err in my choice of tools.” Emalia filled a teapot from the electric kettle Cali had started, set the tray at the small table, and took a seat opposite her. “So, are you ready to train?”
She shook her head. “In a while. I have some questions first.” The older woman raised a hand in invitation. “Okay, so…before, it always felt like I was drawing from a finite pool of power. Now, it seems like I’m full of magic—so much that it’s trying to push its way out.”
Her mentor delayed responding by checking to be sure that her long grey hair was properly restrained—it was—and by fussing with the teapot. Finally, she replied, “I can think of two possible causes. It may be a reaction to having your power suppressed. The pendulum swinging the other way.” Cali nodded. That makes sense. “Or it might be that you contain so much power that you’ll need to work extra hard to keep it in check. Your mother was strong and her mother before her.”
She tilted her head. “Do you know my family all the way back?”
The woman lifted the pot and poured the tea. Notes of matcha and passion fruit filled the air above the cup as she placed it in front of Cali. “I do not. That is something you’ll need to discover on your own if you choose to.”
“Okay. So, how will I figure out which reason it is?”
Emalia shrugged. “If the pendulum swings back, you should notice. If it does not, you’ll know.”
The boxer at her feet snorted and she poked him with a foot. “No one likes a cynic, Fyre. So, okay, next question. Did I get any additional powers when my magic was unlocked?”
Laughter filled the room. “Of course not. It doesn’t work that way. If you want to do new things, you’ll have to study like everyone else.”
Cali rolled her eyes. “Awesome. So, to sum up, more power, more problems, more work.”
Her teacher raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Of course. That’s always how it is for honest folk.”
She sighed. Just once, would a shortcut be so awful? “Then I guess we better get to it.”
Her guardian hadn’t been willing to close the shop for the afternoon to train her directly, so Cali sat in the lotus position in the small dressing area and stared at a flickering beeswax candle that spread suggestions of honey through the room. “The first step toward using your new strength is understanding it,” Emalia had instructed. “Focus inward and find the paths.”
It was an exercise she’d done many times before in order to allow her reduced magical power to flow without obstruction when she called upon it. She’d always been able to see the map hovering in front of her, lines snaking from her core, through the chakras, and spreading all over her body. Now, though, it stubbornly refused to appear.
Fyre nudged her with his snout, and she scratched his head absently. When her fingers touched him, magic flowed between them and the image she’d been seeking materialized before her. She glanced at him but he ignored her aside from luxuriating in the attention. “Huh. You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Magic pulsed in streams that looked like arteries, veins, and capillaries. Cali focused on her illusion power and a set of currents brightened. She marshaled force, and another group gained strength. Okay, I get it. More to draw from, distributed for faster response. Sure. That makes sense.
She closed her eyes and pulled the idea of cold into her mind—frost, snow, and the way the shower hurt when the hot water ran out. Then, she envisioned the mist that the Draksa had ejected at her on the night they’d met. Her mind focused and investigated it, watched it stream past as she slipped into the gaps between the crystalline motes, and let it suffuse her. Without letting her attention falter, she raised a hand, seeking within for the paths that would bring the ice into her waiting palm. She felt a stirring and opened her eyes with a smile.
Her hand was empty.
“Damn it!” She blew out an annoyed breath. “Okay, that’s enough for now.” She rose and descended the stairs with Fyre plodding along behind. Emalia was in the back room sipping tea that smelled as if it had received a liberal dose of bourbon. The woman didn’t quite smirk as she asked, “How did it go?”
Cali fell heavily into the chair across from her. “Great. So. Awesome.” Her guardian laughed. “I thought of another question, though. What do you know about the gangs around here?”
A nod of the grey-topped head was encouraging. “I wondered when you would think to ask. Not too much. Long ago, there were as many magical gangs as there were immigrant families. But most of them departed for New Atlantis when it was completed. The last decade or so, there’s only been one.”
That lines up so far. “What do you know about that one?”
She shrugged. “For a time, it seemed to be an acceptable thing. Now it doesn’t. I’ve heard rumbles about unsavory practices and other noises about pressure on businesses. No one’s come here yet.”
The young woman laughed. “As if anyone could intimidate you into anything.”
“True enough. And now that I have you and your Draksa, it’s even less likely.”
“As long as no one who has a problem with me decides to take an interest in you.”
“You’ve been trouble since day one, child. I’m not concerned about it now.”
Fyre growled as if to confirm he wasn’t worried either. Cali checked her watch and sighed. “It’s time to take this beast home and get to the tavern.”
Emalia grinned. “Are you not ready to share him with Zeb?”
She shook her head. “He might think that a dwarf-snack would be tasty.” The faux-dog looked at her with something that resembled a scowl. “What? As soon as I have time for twenty questions, we can discuss it.” She tugged gently on the leash and he climbed to his feet when she did.
The older woman wrapped her in a hug, then stepped back. “Take care of each other.”
Cali nodded. “Will do. Same time tomorrow?”
“I’m always here, you know that.” Her mentor smiled. “And you both are always welcome, whether I’m present or not.”
They walked out into the heat and only then did it occur to her that she had to think of a way to sneak the Draksa back to her room. She sighed and shook her head at him. “You’re one challenge after the next. You’d better be good at sneaking because I can veil you, but I can’t keep someone from stepping on you.”
He opened his mouth only enough to stick his tongue out at her.
Chapter Thirteen
The training and work shift the day before had tired Cali out, and she’d slept in until almost the last minute. A rushed shower and a dash across the quarter got her to the station only five minutes after the time the Detective had named. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, took a deep breath, and pulled the doors open.
The building was old and well-kept, especially given the constant activity that required policing in the streets that surrounded it. She walked through a metal detector without setting it off, her first clear victory of the afternoon. A bored older man in a uniform grunted when she asked for Detective Barton and waved her toward a doorway in the rear wall. She threaded a path through the room and studiously ignored the open files and visible computer screens on the way lest someone decide to take a closer look at her.
Simply being here is more than close enough, thanks. She’d never had any issues with the law, and knowing she had the ace in the hole of being able to portal meant that if things went south to the level that she was imprisoned, she wouldn’t stay confined against her will for long. But difficult as it was, she liked her life and had no interest in abandoning everything she’d built for an existence on the run. Plus, getting in trouble with the police wouldn’t exactly be conducive to her plan to become an investigator.
The rooms through the rear doorway were small, clearly repurposed from some other use. Two desks
arranged front-to-front were positioned inside the door of one, and Barton looked up and smiled. “Caliste. Thanks for coming.”
She sighed. “Cali.”
The detective nodded. “Kendra. Please, have a seat.” She gestured toward a chair that sat at the side of her desk.
It squeaked as she lowered herself into it and for a moment, she thought it would collapse. Old city, old station, young detective. “Nice place you have here.”
Barton laughed. “Yeah, sure. A real vacation location.”
Cali’s lips twitched into a smile. “It is for some, I imagine.” Her server instincts rarely failed her and giving someone an opportunity to talk about themselves was one of the most reliable tactics.
A nod of agreement followed. “Any number of tourists find lodging here during their time in the city. But, generally, the folks out front go easy on them. That’s not my area, and I’m definitely not interested in going easy on anyone.”
“Tough woman in a man’s world?”
She laughed again. “Nah. Merely a hardass who’s devoted to her job. Which is why I wanted to have a chat with you.”
On your own territory, sure. No accident there. She shrugged. “Well, here I am, as requested.”
The officer’s dark hair fell in her face as she looked at the folder on the desk in front of her, and she flicked it out of the way with a look of annoyance. “So, Jarten. How do you know him?”
Cali leaned forward and the chair creaked ominously again. “He’s a frequent customer at the tavern. Usually on his own and occasionally with a lady friend of questionable taste.” The other woman chuckled. “I never really put him in with a gang, though. That’s what you do in the Specialized Investigations Division right?” She’d done some Internet searches between customers the night before to prepare for the encounter.
Barton nodded. “Correct. And he does seem to be hooked into the city’s magical clan. Atlanteans.” She felt the detective’s eyes burning into hers, likely seeking any sign of a reaction to the revelation.
“There’s many of them around, that’s true.”
“In your tavern?”
She shook her head. “No more than anyone else. Zeb has a very specific policy. Everyone gets along or they aren’t welcome anymore. One strike and you’re out.”
The woman’s chair creaked, too, as she leaned back. “So, is Jarten out then? Is that why you chased him?”
Cali kept her face neutral. “Jarten’s still allowed in.”
“So why did you hit him?”
The questions came as no surprise and she merely laughed. “Who claims I did?”
The detective leaned forward to consult the folder again. “It says here that an eyewitness saw a girl with long red hair fighting four men who were later identified as being part of the Atlanteans.”
Her stare was one of calculated bemusement. “Are you seriously telling me I’m spending my afternoon here based on being a redhead? You’d better get Gillian Anderson and Christina Hendricks in here right away.”
“And the subject was at your workplace shortly before the incident.”
“That seems thin, Detective.”
She shrugged. “I’ve had thinner. It’s not so much that I’m concerned with this particular event. It’s part of a pattern, though, an increasing willingness to mix it up in public where innocents can wind up endangered. That’s something I am concerned with.”
Cali frowned at the revelation. Not good. “That makes sense. Still, I’m not sure why I’m here.”
Barton sighed. “Okay, don’t admit it was you. We both know the truth. But the real reason you’re here is that I want to use you.”
Now, her laugh was a little shocked. “That’s bold, Kendra. Buy a girl a drink first.”
The woman rewarded the joke with a thin smile. “I need you to keep an eye out at the tavern and let me know what you see. You’re uniquely positioned to do it since it’s an open location for everyone.”
She leaned back, folded her arms, and ignored the chair’s protests. “Why not ask Zeb?”
“I’m not convinced he’s one of the good guys.”
Cali scowled. “You’d best think again on that subject.”
The detective tapped her fingers on the desk. “Your loyalty is clear. But what do you really know about him?”
It took effort but she managed not to snarl. “My parents liked him. That’s all I need to know.”
“Your parents, who were killed in a suspected gang attack.”
Her resistance failed, and she bolted to her feet. “Listen, lady, I’m not sure who you think you are, but no one talks about my family or my friends like that.”
Barton stood and met her gaze, her aggressive tone a mirrored response. “You don’t have the whole picture. I suggest you sit down and get it. For your sake and for your boss’s.”
The magic burned for release and it took a conscious effort to push it down. Slowly—too slowly—logic reasserted itself. This is not the time and not the place. She took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the seat, her spine rigid. After a moment, she managed to unclench her teeth enough to push, “Fine, tell me,” through them.
The officer looked satisfied and Cali resisted the surging desire to throw a force bolt at her chest and portal out of the station. “A couple of years ago, things started to change. For about six months, it was a mess out there. Several human gangs warred among themselves and the Atlanteans took potshots when an opportunity presented itself. It finally resulted in two main groups—the Atlanteans and the human faction left standing.”
She sighed. “We’re not as effective as we’d like to be, of course, but we’ve managed to keep a lid on things since then. It’s probably mostly because the gangs were regrouping and solidifying their holdings. But now, it’s like someone lit a match and the whole thing has fired up again. Territories are in flux, big time. Not a night goes by without some block changing hands. Your place is unlikely to remain untouched, either by those wanting to claim it or by the random violence these things bring.”
Cali shook her head. “So you say. But it’ll take more than threats to cause Zeb to give in, regardless of who makes them.”
“Your response is an example of the problem. You act as if this is normal, like it’s status quo. New leaders have taken over both groups, and they face the same challenge—do enough to justify their positions of power. And that has the potential to do serious damage to everyone. That’s why I need you to be my early warning system. I’m not asking you to betray anyone. Merely to keep me informed if you see something worrisome.”
Despite her desire to reject the woman outright for being such a pushy jerk, she forced herself to consider the situation from an outside perspective. She sighed. “I’m not promising to work with you. I’ll decide in the moment. But this will to be a two-way flow of information or it won’t happen at all. For anything I give you, you’ll have to share what you know about that bigger picture you want me to focus on.”
Barton nodded. “Sure. Fair is fair. But you can’t bring me junk and expect gold.”
“Deal.” She stood more slowly this time and extended a hand, and the detective rose and gripped it. The banana flavor of suspicion hit her tongue, which was certainly expected from someone in her job, but also the faint hint of pineapple that suggested goodwill. She released the other woman’s hand. “See you around, Detective Barton.”
“Anytime, Caliste.”
She wandered the streets for an hour while she tried to put the pieces together and failed utterly. Her steps had delivered her to the Dragons, and she pushed through the door with a resigned sigh. Even on my day off, I wind up at work.
Chapter Fourteen
Tanyith had put the information the fight had gained him into almost immediate use. After a much-needed eight hours of sleep, he’d followed up on the name the crew leader had provided. It had taken half a day of dropping the name among shopkeepers in the quarter before anyone gave him anything. Since then, he�
��d been on the woman’s trail. More focused questioning into the late night and early morning had given him the location of a restaurant and a description of her.
That was why he was seated at a bar with a beer at his right hand and a plate of spicy barbecued oysters in front of him, his second round of each. Like many Atlanteans, he had a preference for products of the seas, but he wasn’t a purist about their preparation. Some were, and in his experience, they tended to be more concerned about purity in all areas than he was. To him, part-Atlantean was Atlantean. To them, anything other than a direct descent on both sides was a flaw.
There were sounds of welcome through the restaurant entrance behind him and to the right. Without breaking the pattern he’d established—eat one, sigh with pleasure, and chase it with a gulp of the strong brew—he flicked his gaze away from the Saints news site on his phone to the mirror that was the back wall of the bar. The new arrival matched the description he’d been given perfectly—pale skin and straight ebony hair that fell naturally to the middle of her back. She wore a sharp navy-blue business suit with a black blouse and matching heels. His quick survey couldn’t capture the details of her face, but she exuded a sense of professional competence.
She wouldn’t look out of place in a boardroom, and yet she’s a mid-level leader in a street gang. Things really did change while I was inside. In his day, the Atlanteans took pride in rejecting the styles of the human gangs in the city. Apparently, that was no longer the case. The woman, Danna Cudon, was led to a seat alone at a table with a reserved sign. Two mismatched men sat at the next one over a moment later. One was very pale, tall, and muscular, and looked uncomfortable in his own suit. The other was dark, thin, and perfectly at home in a masculine version of his boss’ outfit.
Tanyith ordered another round of food but switched to water now that his quarry was in sight. She selected the raw plate, and his brain automatically ascribed the definition of purist. While internally acknowledging that it was by no means sure, he wasn’t able to discount the possibility either. Fortunately, her meal didn’t take long as after the third helping, he really couldn’t face a fourth. He paid his tab as her coffee arrived and headed out the door to find a vantage point.