Street Spells: Seven Urban Fantasy Shorts

by Aimee Easterling

  James went with honesty. “Alchemy fascinates me. If I can bribe you with a benefit for the shop, then I can learn more. Maybe get some schooling.”

  George chuckled. “I knew there was an angle. You're a Huntsman. You don't do selfless.”

  James held his gaze. George was right. That was the family mantra.

  George abruptly held out the flyer, offering it to him. “Call the number and tell them you're interested.”

  James gripped the paper, but George didn't let go.

  “You’d better not be lying to me.”

  “Lying about what?” James asked. “You read the flyer, and I told you why it interests me.”

  George eyed him a moment longer, then released the page.

  James turned to go and made it as far as the door.

  “Where is the Alchemica?” George asked.

  James didn't hesitate. “Columbus,” he lied.

  “Make that call.”

  With a nod, James left the room. It was ironic that George expected them to pursue their selfish desires, but he would not put up with a lie to his face. If he found out, things would get ugly.

  But the risk was worth it. Learning alchemy was James’s only means of escaping his family curse. If he had to face hell to do it, it was no less than what he expected.

  Chapter 2

  James returned the phone to the charging cradle and wiped his palm on his thigh. He had gotten worked up for nothing. Whoever was in charge of taking his information at the Alchemica had been out. James had left his name and number, and now there was nothing to do but wait.

  Would they call back this evening? Tomorrow?

  George had already locked up the shop and headed for the house—or maybe the local bar—along with Henry and Brian. James would not be welcome in whatever form of entertainment they had sought, but he was fine with that. Climbing the steps to the workshop, he smiled to himself. It looked like he would get to spend the evening pursuing his alchemy interests after all.

  Retrieving his notes and his newest text, he decided to do a little more research before he jumped into his next experiment. It was frustrating to be forced to take things slow, but with no prior knowledge, he didn’t have a choice. If only he had an instructor. It was a long shot, but if the gun shop got that contract with the Alchemica, maybe he could find a way to make that a reality.

  He had told George that alchemy fascinated him—and that was the truth—but there was more to it. According to family history, their particular talents were a product of an alchemical potion used on an ancestor centuries ago. James dreamed of finding a way to reverse it, but like all his dreams, it seemed destined to remain unfulfilled.

  Forcing back his frustration, James returned to his text. Bemoaning his fate would not change it. Only by taking action could he hope to change his destiny.

  JAMES WENT FROM A DEEP sleep to full alert in the time it took to fall from his chair to the floor. He rolled to the side upon landing and caught Brian’s foot before it could connect with his ribs.

  It would be a simple maneuver to twist Brian’s leg and throw him to the floor. Even simpler to snap his ankle. Instead, James released his leg with only a gentle shove and sprang to his feet.

  Henry still held the chair James had been sleeping in—before he had dumped James on the floor. He seemed to be considering whether to attack James with it.

  “Was there something you wanted?” James asked, working to keep his cool.

  “The shop opened ten minutes ago,” Henry answered. “George told us to come find you.”

  “You found me.”

  Henry pursed his lips, the look in his blue eyes suggesting that he still hadn’t decided whether to take a swing at James or not.

  “George got a call for you,” Brian spoke up. “It sounded like a woman.” He exchanged a grin with Henry.

  “Is she still on the phone?” James asked, all interest in pounding his brothers momentarily suspended.

  Brian barked a laugh and gave Henry a nudge with his elbow. “Maybe he ain’t gay after all.” The fact that James had never had a girlfriend was a source of endless amusement for his brothers.

  James ignored them and hurried downstairs. George stood behind the counter; unfortunately, he wasn't on the phone.

  “Brian said I got a call.” James stopped across from George. “Was it the Alchemica?”

  “Yes.” George eyed him.

  “Well, what did they say?”

  “You slept in the workshop?”

  James struggled to keep his tone neutral. “I dozed off while reading.”

  “We opened ten minutes ago.”

  “I know. Sorry.” James was certain that George was dragging this out on purpose. “The Alchemica?”

  “The woman I spoke to seemed eager to work with us. I told her you could drive up this afternoon.”

  “This afternoon?”

  “The man who runs the Boy Scout camp is coming by after lunch. You will recall that we are supplying him with the bows and arrows for his archery activities.” George looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. He wasn't a fan of the low-tension bows and untipped arrows.

  “Can’t Brian or Henry meet with him?”

  “You and I both know that wouldn’t go well. The scout master would certainly not be a returning customer.”

  James knew better than to argue.

  “I told the woman from the Alchemica that you would drive up after you finished. She seemed fine with that.”

  “Do I have an appointment time?”

  “No.”

  James frowned. That seemed unprofessional. He hated to get off on the wrong foot.

  “Well?” George lifted a brow.

  “I’ll go get a shower.” This day was shaping up to be a long one. Now that he was so close, James didn’t know how he was going to handle the wait.

  JAMES PULLED OVER TO the side of the road to let yet another fire truck pass. It was the third one to come roaring up behind him, heading the same direction he was going. James tapped the steering wheel in frustration, waiting for the truck to get out of the way. He felt guilty about being annoyed since someone had far bigger problems than he did if it required three fire trucks. Still, the day had been one delay after another. If he believed in fate, he might fear that something was trying to stop him.

  Easing back into traffic, James continued along the residential street that would take him to the Alchemica. It was well into evening, and probably past the time anyone would consider seeing him, but he had come anyway, driving much faster than he should on the two-hour drive over.

  He crested a rise and was once again forced to stop, but he would have been stopping anyway. He had reached his destination. Unfortunately, it was the fire trucks’ destination as well.

  James’s stomach dropped as he stared at the ruins of what had been a three-story building. Whatever force had been trying to stop him had succeeded. In the flickering red lights, James could see the engraved stone marker on the front lawn. This was the Alchemica.

  One side of the building had been completely demolished while the rest still stood, though it was currently engulfed in flames. Judging by how little the flames had consumed, James wondered if an explosion had been responsible.

  “Damn it.” James smacked the steering wheel. Then grimaced at his irreverence to the death that had certainly accompanied such destruction. He raked a hand through his hair. He had been so close. If anyone could have helped him, it would have been an Alchemica alchemist. They were the best of the best. Or they had been.

  The traffic began to move again, and he went with the flow, not certain where he’d go now. He didn’t want to turn around and drive home. Maybe he’d grab a bite to eat. Or park the car and go for a walk.

  The flickering neon sign of a bar drew his attention, and he pulled into the parking lot. It was as good a place as any to leave the car. Unfortunately, he still had a couple of years until he reached legal drinking age, so consoling himself with a cold one
wasn’t an option.

  He shut off the car and stepped out into the evening gloom. Smoke rose in the distance, silhouetted against the light of the city. A siren wailed, echoing the howl of despair that wanted to leave his throat. Why did nothing seem to go his way? He knew he was cursed, but it was moments like these that truly drove the point home.

  Eyeing the bar, he considered trying his luck, but decided against it. Instead, he started off down the sidewalk. A walk would do him some good. The night air would clear his head and the exercise would make him feel less like a caged beast. He hoped.

  He’d gone about a block when movement at the next intersection drew his attention. A woman darted across the street. James blinked in surprise when he caught sight of what she wore: the dark robes of an Alchemica alchemist.

  She stopped when she reached the opposite curb and looked over her shoulder. James thought she might be gazing back at her burning home, then he heard the distant sound of multiple footfalls.

  “There she is!” a male voice carried to him.

  The woman turned and ran. A moment later, three men came into view; they sprinted across the street, clearly chasing the woman.

  “Cowardly bastards,” James growled. He took a step to follow, then hesitated. His brothers would have a fit if he intervened and potentially revealed what he was.

  But his brothers weren’t here.

  A faint smile curled his lips, and he sprang into motion, relishing the chase to come.

  James reached the next street in time to see the trio dart down a narrow alley. An idea forming, James turned down an alley that ran parallel to the one they had taken. He stopped in the shadows shortly past the entrance and stripped off his clothes. Time to see how well those guys liked being chased.

  Grinning, James shifted into his other form with liquid ease and dropped to all fours. George would blow his stack if he knew James had shifted. At home, he was only allowed to do this with George’s permission. But he wasn’t at home.

  James flexed his paws, unsheathing ebony claws to grip the old cobblestones beneath him. His surroundings snapped into focus, all his senses so much keener than when he was in human form, but it was his sight he relied on now.

  He turned in the direction those men had gone. Walls were not an obstacle, and he had no trouble picking out the tantalizing glow of their souls. His ability to see souls just came with the territory. After all, it was the soul that a hellhound hunted.

  He eyed his prey on the other side of the building from where he stood, but it wasn’t just the men’s souls that he spied. It looked like they had cornered the woman. Her bright soul glittered in the gloom, such a contrast to the others.

  James sprang forward, slipping into the twilight region where the mortal world met the next. He ghosted through the brick wall before him, landing within the building. He sprinted through rooms and more walls, unseen and unheard, until he emerged in the other alley.

  The three men had the woman backed against the side of a dumpster that blocked the way into the next street.

  James moved closer to the woman, but since he still walked the veil between worlds, none of them could see him.

  “Got you cornered,” the man in the lead said. He smiled at the woman, exposing his overlapping front teeth.

  “Marigold, dried and chopped,” the woman replied.

  James glanced up, not certain what that meant.

  “What’d she say?” one of the other men asked; then all three laughed.

  The woman clenched her fists.

  James admired her refusal to cower before these thugs. It was time to level the playing field—or more accurately, swing the advantage completely in her favor.

  Slipping back into the mortal world, James appeared at her side. She gasped as his midnight fur brushed her bare arm. By canine standards, he was massive, but then, a hellhound wasn’t exactly a canine, despite the hound part of the name.

  James growled, and the other-worldly sound echoed off the stone walls of the alley. But it wasn’t just his growl that filled the alley. He knew his eyes gave off their own light, the green glow clearly visible in the dimness.

  The three men began to back away. Even the woman backpedaled until she bumped up against the dumpster. James felt bad about frightening her, but it couldn’t be helped.

  He snarled, and the three men let out simultaneous screams, then turned and ran.

  For just an instant, James watched them go, relishing the moment, then he sprang after them. Their frantic footfalls echoed off the walls of the alley while James’s tread made no sound. It caused the men to glance back over their shoulders frequently to see if he was still there.

  James could have caught them easily, but it was far more fun to toy with them. He chased them for over four blocks, following at a comfortable lope. But as the chase progressed, a dark need rose within him and he found himself longing to close the distance and end this.

  Alarmed by such a notion, he broke off the chase and skidded to a stop. Maybe his brothers weren’t wrong to deny him this. It would certainly be easy to lose himself to the hellhound’s more primeval instincts.

  James hurried back to his clothes and shifted to human form. His senses dulled, but his perceptions returned to those he knew. As his head cleared, he remembered the reason he’d shifted in the first place. Chiding himself for getting so lost in the moment, he dressed quickly, then jogged back to the alley where he’d left the woman.

  “Hello?” James sucked in a lungful of dumpster-scented air, then bent to grip his thighs as he almost gagged. Oddly, the odor hadn’t bothered him as the hound, even though his senses had been much keener.

  Movement drew his attention to the dumpster, and he spied the woman pressed between it and the wall. She leaned out to study him.

  He smiled and straightened. “Are you okay? I saw those guys harassing you.” He waved a hand toward the street beyond the dumpster, pretending that he’d seen the confrontation from there.

  Moving closer, he stepped over a slimy-looking puddle and stopped beside her to offer a hand. “Do you need some help?”

  She looked up and her dark eyes met his.

  In his mind’s eye, he could see the brilliance of her soul. He didn’t use his ability enough to understand what it meant, but her soul had been one of the brightest he’d ever seen. It shouldn’t have anything to do with her being an alchemist. After all, anyone could be an alchemist, magical or not.

  She reached out and took his hand.

  “I’m James,” he said as he helped her up. “James Huntsman.”

  She swayed, and he gripped her shoulder, afraid she might pass out. A few blinks, and she seemed to regain control but didn’t speak.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. “Were you in the Alchemica when it—” He didn’t get to finish as she swayed again. “No, I don’t think you’re okay. Shall I drive you to the nearest hospital?”

  She shook her head, though she moved carefully as if her head hurt.

  “Can’t you speak?” He studied her. She didn’t seem hurt, but maybe she had smoke inhalation or something.

  She held one hand flat and with the other, pretended to write on it.

  “I’ve got a pen in the car—if you want to write something.”

  A careful nod was her answer. For a moment, he considered that she might be mute, then he remembered her odd comment to those men earlier.

  “Shall I show you where I parked? I’m not an axe murderer or anything.”

  She offered a tired smile, but remained silent.

  “This way.” James led her back down the alley, then around to his car in the dimly lit parking lot beside that bar. If nothing else, he could escort her inside and ask to use their phone. But first, he needed to figure out what she wanted.

  Once they reached his car, he dug out the pen and handed it, along with a napkin to her. Using the hood of his car as a desk, she wrote a few words, then showed him what she’d written.

  I can’t remember any
thing.

  “You mean about what happened at the Alchemica?”

  She wrote another sentence on the napkin. What is the Alchemica?

  Chapter 3

  James stared at her. Was she telling him she had amnesia? “It’s an alchemy institute. The best there is, and you’re dressed like an Alchemica alchemist.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and a wrinkle creased her brow. She looked so tired.

  “Seriously, I think you should get some medical attention,” he insisted.

  Once again, she carefully shook her head, then returned to the napkin. I need to get out of town.

  “Okay. Where shall I take you?”

  Her brow wrinkled again and she shrugged, then cast a worried glance over her shoulder. Were those guys who were chasing her something other than street thugs? Their dark clothing had been similar, but he had just assumed they were in some sort of gang.

  “All right. Maybe you’ll figure out where you need to go as I drive.” He stepped around her to open the passenger door.

  She gave him a grateful nod and got in.

  Shutting the door firmly behind her, he hurried around to the driver’s side. He paused a moment to pull the hound closer to the surface and scanned the area. The only souls nearby were within the bar. It didn’t seem those guys had circled back.

  He was careful to let his other sight fade before he slid in behind the wheel. Letting the hound’s vision overlay his own caused his eyes to glow. He didn’t want to freak out his new friend. It seemed she’d had enough stress for one evening.

  Closing his door, he turned the key. The engine sputtered, but caught on his third attempt. “She can be a little temperamental,” he explained as he put the car in gear. He drove to the exit and stopped to check for traffic before pulling out.

  “By the way, what’s you name?” he asked. She still had the pen and napkin.

  He glanced over to check her response.

  “Decant the supernatant,” she answered, then pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in both surprise and fear.