by S. C. Stokes
“Exactly. So, relax. For once, time is on our side.”
In her heart, Kasey knew Sanders was right. There was no shortage of criminals in the city—the cases she'd worked with Bishop told her that much was true—but she needed to start living.
If the Brotherhood comes, so be it. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
In the meantime, she had other plans. Her struggle against the Shinigami had awakened in her a need to study her roots. She longed to better understand the world of magic. She wanted to hone her skills and test her limits, and Sanders knew more about it than anyone she had ever met.
Sanders chimed in. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about. You see, Kasey, there is a vacancy on the Arcane Council. It appears the last head of the ADI was a dashing fugitive who lucked into a promotion. They made him Chancellor and now the ADI is in need of a new boss.”
Kasey shook her head. “Nope. No way. Not on your life.”
Sanders reached out. “You'll do great, come on.”
Kasey held up her hands. “Hell no. It's too much. The bureaucracy, the endless meetings, it would drive me mad. Besides, I spent so long running from the ADI that the thought of joining them, it just doesn’t feel right. It’s not me. I’d love to help, but I can't do that.”
There was a lilting laugh that carried through the ward. It seemed to be coming from the neighboring bed.
“I told you, Sanders, she’s never going to take your desk job,” a familiar voice said.
Kasey leaned over and ripped aside the curtain.
Her jaw dropped as she took in the occupant of the second bed. There, hidden beneath layers of bandages, was Hades.
“You don't look so happy to see me, Chase,” he said, his tone light-hearted. “I thought you'd be thrilled.”
Kasey shook off her surprise. “Don't get me wrong, it's good to see you, Hades, but I thought you were…”
“Dead? Pushing up daisies? Dearly departed?” Hades finished her sentence
“Yeah, I dunno about dearly, but the rest of them.”
“Ouch. I see what you mean, Sanders. No mercy at all,” he replied, looking at Noah.
Kasey shook her head.
“How did you survive?” she asked.
Hades smiled. “Sometimes you just get lucky. Zryx put three in my back. The vest took two of them, but the third got through, so when I went down, I played dead. When the surviving agents mopped up the traitors, they managed to get me out and stabilized before I bled out. I’m lucky to be alive.”
“Ewww,” Kasey teased. “Owing your life to the ADI, that has to be a bitter pill to swallow for the king of the underworld.”
Hades recoiled as if stung. “Oh? If I recall correctly, I saved all of you just this morning. Those Night Crew chaps were trying to blow your poor station to hell. As far as I can see, we’re completely even. Besides, if you aren’t going to work for the ADI, you could always come join me. I'm in need of a new lieutenant. Some rambunctious young woman barbecued the last one.”
“She had it coming,” Kasey replied. “Thanks for the offer, but no deal. I may have had a dalliance with the dark side, but I prefer being on this side of the law.”
Hades shrugged. “Well, you can't blame a man for trying.”
Sanders cleared his throat. “Okay, Kasey, final offer. I’ll create a new unit, the Arcane Alliance. Entirely independent of the ADI infrastructure, its mandate will be to hunt down extraordinary threats to our community. With the Council decimated, I'm sure there will be others who will want to prey on our perceived weakness. I would have you lead the charge in our defense.”
Kasey nodded. “The Arcane Alliance, I like the sound of that. Extraordinary threats, you say? I'm imagining that the Brotherhood would fall inside those parameters?”
Sanders smiled. “You never quit, do you?”
Kasey slowly shook her head, “I don't know how.”
Sanders laughed. “Deal.”
She reached forward and clasped his right hand.
“You will have to resign from your work at the Ninth Precinct,” he said. “You'll be far too busy to be doing both.”
Kasey paused. “I don't suppose you'll break the news to Bishop?”
“Bishop?” Sanders raised his eyebrows. “Not on your life. She terrifies me.”
“You big chicken.” Kasey laughed as she sank back into the chair.
Everything was changing so quickly, but for the first time, she felt like she was choosing her own path, rather than having it thrust upon her. It felt good.
“Another good one bites the dust.” Hades sighed, rearranging his pillow.
For the first time since she was twelve years old, Kasey looked to the future and saw promise.
The End
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Kasey will return in A Taste Of Death
The attack on New York City almost cost her everything. The 9th Precinct has been decimated. The few surviving members of the Arcane Council are fighting to protect the world of magic. The supernatural has been thrust into the spotlight, and New York City is not a fan.
Rogue wizards roam the streets, and criminals from across the country are flocking to help themselves to the spoils of a city in chaos.
This mayhem would just be another Monday for Kasey...if it wasn't for the freshly exsanguinated corpse in SoHo.
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As the pair descended the cliff road Marcus drew nearer to Dariyen and spoke quietly: “Don't look now, but it seems we've attracted a few friends.”
“What do you mean,
friends?” Dariyen asked, fighting the urge to turn around. The pair wound their way down the cliff road toward the docks.
“A pair of thugs have been following us since we left the Palace. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but these two won't quit. Either they have decided they wish to get a drink at the Galleon as well or they are following us.”
“Friends of yours?” Dariyen asked.
“I doubt it. I've never seen them before. Pretty sure I'd remember a face like that.” Marcus answered.
“What do you mean?”
“The big dopey-looking fellow seems to have had his nose broken a few more times than he would have cared for. Come to think of it, his whole face looks like it's taken a bit of a drubbing. Ring any bells?” Marcus asked.
“Not particularly—that could describe almost any of the enforcers that work the streets of King's Court. They are a rough-and-tumble sort—the kind you civilized folks would rather avoid.”
“Enforcers?” Marcus asked, a little confused.
“They do the grunt work for the gangs here in the city. You have the Devils of the Deep who run the docks, the Sewer Rats who run the poorer districts, and the Cobblestone Crew who run most of the higher end of town—mostly brothels for the aristocracy. Rich folks don't like to dabble with the peasants, you see. These boys could work for any of them. Beyond that, anyone with a bit of coin can hire some muscle here in the city.”
“Would any of them want to cause you harm?” Marcus asked.
“Why do you assume it's me they’re after?” Dariyen demanded.
“Shhh! They'll hear you,” Marcus replied. “First and foremost, because they've been watching you the entire time—the big one's been sizing you up like a prize ham, I'm not sure if he wants to eat you or knock your teeth out. Second, I'm Marcus Listar, and while many a fool has wanted to tear my head off my shoulders, there isn't an imbecile on this island that would be willing to risk my mother's wrath to do it. If there is I haven't met him yet.”
Dariyen nodded. Amarisa was a formidable woman whose reputation preceded her. Even with her husband's passing she had maintained the Listarii's status with an iron fist. Those who had sought to take advantage of her husband's untimely death were still licking their wounds. “What would they want with me? I'm in the Town Guard. Nobody wants conflict with the Guard. It's bad for business.”
“All the same, it seems they've got a bone to pick—what do you want to do?”
Dariyen thought about the predicament. Having reached the base of the cliff road, they could continue on to the Golden Galleon knowing that these two might be waiting for them when they emerged, or they could confront the thugs now and deal with them. If there was going to be a brawl Dariyen would rather it take place before he'd drunk himself into a stupor.
“Follow me, there are enough warehouses and alleys around the docks, we could get lost for days if need be. We’ll have a chat with our friends more privately.” Dariyen whispered before darting into the alley.
Together the two made their way deeper and deeper into the maze of alleys. Eventually ducking behind a series of crates that had been neatly stacked along the edge of a warehouse. Then they waited.
Soon enough the two men appeared. Convinced their quarry was near, they picked up the pace.
The thugs breezed straight past the crates and the concealed youth. As the second passed them Dariyen stuck out his leg, tripping the burly man. He stumbled and plowed roughly into the cobblestones. Cursing heavily, he tried to get to his feet only to find Dariyen's sword at his throat. At the commotion, his companion turned and came face to face with Marcus, whose broadsword danced menacingly before his chest.
“Now gentlemen, would you mind explaining why two upstanding citizens such as yourself are following a member of the Town Guard through the city. While not a criminal act in and of itself, it certainly raises a few questions.”
“Just hand over the gold and we'll be on our way,” the thug who was still on his feet replied, with scant regard for the sword point mere inches in front of him.
“The gold?” Dariyen asked, feigning ignorance.
“The winnings from the Tournament. We know you're carrying a hundred pieces—now hand it over and you can go about your business.”
“Oh, so you know who we are, and you were still dumb enough to try to rob us?” Marcus chimed in. “What sort of imbeciles try to rob a pair of master swordsmen? Have you no regard for your own lives?”
At that the men laughed. “We work for Khazim,” one said, “and he doesn't give a damn about our lives, but more importantly he doesn't give a damn about yours. Now hand over the coin and be on your way.”
“They're brazen, I'll give them that,” Marcus answered. “With our blades at their throats, they are still determined to rob us.”
“That's because there are a lot more of us than there are of you,” the man responded. For the first time since they had cornered the thugs Marcus scanned the alleyway. Approaching fast from one end of the alley, was a handful of brutes. They were already drawing arms to aid their comrades. From billy clubs to brandished blades, it was an imposing sight of skin and steel.
“Thoughts?” Marcus asked nervously.
“It's them or us.” Dariyen declared. “Kill 'em or maim 'em, it's your choice, but if it can swing a blade when you’re done, you've stopped short of the goal.”
Hearing the declaration, the man on the ground tried to rise and was rewarded with Dariyen's sword in his chest. His companion perished moments later as Marcus ran him through.
Marcus could hear voices in the maze beyond, “Head deeper into the alleys. We may yet slip past them! If we are lucky we'll break through before the others can catch up with us.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Dariyen replied as he began running deeper into the maze of alleys.
“Who's Khazim?” Marcus asked as he tried to keep up.
“He's a moneylender, one of the worst in the city.”
“Business must be bad if he's turning to petty theft,” Marcus replied.
“A hundred gold pieces is a lot of money, Marcus. it's enough to make men stupid.”
“Speaking of which, you left yours in the Palace, right?” Marcus asked.
Dariyen shook his head. “Like I said, enough to make men stupid.”
Marcus couldn't believe his ears. The news gave them all the more reason to try to escape. For a hundred gold Khazim's thugs would slit both their throats simply to ensure there were no surviving witnesses.
The pair rounded a corner and came face to face with more of the thieves. The heavy footfalls of the approaching thugs drowned out all other attempts at communication and the duelists were soon thronged and fighting for their lives.
Marcus ducked underneath a billy club aimed for his skull and delivered a wicked slash to the man's midsection, stepping past the man as he crumpled in a heap. Moving on, the youth batted away a short sword and ran its owner through.
Marcus sneaked a glance to his right and could see that Dariyen had been true to his word. One thug lay clutching at his throat. Another lay on his side, blood pooling from a wound in his chest while the guardsman ran a third thug through.
Together, the pair were a whirlwind of death and soon the alleyway was littered with thieves. Some were dead, others dying, but still they pressed on.
Who is this Khazim that these men fear him more than us? Marcus wondered. Surely there are easier ways to make coin in this city.
Just as their ranks were beginning to thin, the thugs trailing them reached the fray. With foes in front and behind, the dangers multiplied. Stepping outside the thrust of a dagger, Marcus struck with fury, catching the man just above the hand, severing it completely. The thug howled in pain, but Marcus delivered a savage kick, knocking him to the ground.
Dariyen was moving swiftly through the pack. By keeping in motion he was striving to use the weight of numbers against them. Where trained soldiers were used to fighting in formation and could use thei
r numbers to their advantage, street fighters seldom had the same discipline. Instead the brawny thugs would get in each other’s way. The lack of discipline allowed the duelists to deal with them one or two at a time and prevent the attackers from truly bringing their numbers to bear.
Dariyen knew that to stop moving was death. As soon as the men could pile on top of them there would be no space to fight effectively. Marcus tried to follow the guardsman's movements as best he could, and another thug fell, his knife little match for Marcus’s longsword.
As the man fell Marcus, heard a heavy thud and saw Dariyen arching backwards in pain. One of the thugs with a club had finally caught up to him and, from the look of things, delivered a bone-crushing blow to the guardsmen's back.
For Marcus the world seemed to slow as he watched his friend fall. He was helpless to intercede as the throng of men was simply too thick to break through. A sniveling thug drove his knife straight into Dariyen's chest.
Angry shouting carried over the din as Marcus hacked down two more in quick succession, seeking to fight his way through to his newfound friend.
The club man turned on Marcus and was rewarded with Marcus's blade in his belly. Tearing it free, Marcus whirled and found himself face to face with the rat-faced thug who had stabbed Dariyen.
The thief was close, too close—Marcus could see his yellow teeth as the thief stared at him in slack-jawed amazement. The thief thrust at him with his dagger, the blade still bloody from where he'd plucked it out of Dariyen's chest.
Marcus batted the arm away with his left hand and finding he was too close to swing his sword properly, he shifted strategies and instead used the basket hilt of his broadsword to punch the thief in the face as hard as he could manage. The steel broke skin and struck bone, and the force of the impact knocked the murderous thief unconscious.