Dirty Magic

by Jaye Wells

  The industrial adhesive ripped the first couple of layers of skin off, but at least the burning stopped. I dropped the patch without a second thought and moved on. I didn’t need magic patches to deal with Bane—just my wits.

  When I looked up, Morales was watching me. I froze. If he called me on taking off the patch, Gardner and everyone else listening in would hear. But he surprised me by tilting his chin down to acknowledge he wouldn’t rat on me. It made me uncomfortable, though, for him to have something to hold over my head.

  Once we passed through into the platform with four forks, our lights flashed off flailing limbs as junkies scattered like cockroaches. I hurdled over an overturned grocery cart and tackled a male who was running deeper into the tunnels. My body slammed into his and he came down hard on the concrete, breaking my fall. “MEA! Hands where I can see them.”

  He went limp. Scabs covered his arms and he stunk of shit. Suddenly glad I’d worn gloves, I made quick work of cuffing him with a zip tie. Once he was secure, I dragged him over to a wall where the others were lining up those they’d collared. “Stay,” I ordered.

  He lowered his head and huddled into himself. It had been so easy, I found myself disappointed. All the adrenaline pulsing through me demanded action. I turned to find some.

  It didn’t take long.

  Not ten feet away, Morales and Shadi were grappling with a pack of junkies whose addled brains told them it was a great idea to fight back. I rushed forward, pulling my hawthorn-wood nightstick from my belt.

  I arrived just as one of the junkies raised a bat toward Shadi’s exposed back. I stashed the gun and took him out at the knees with the wand. He screamed and crumpled, his hands grasping at his right knee. Before I could follow up, a chick with rotten teeth and wild hair ran at me screaming like a banshee. I smiled and wound up. The stick hit her square in the diaphragm. The air escaped her lungs in a whoosh and her eyes bugged out.

  I wasn’t sure what potion she was on, but it totally overrode her pain receptors. She recovered quickly from the lack of oxygen and came up scratching. I grabbed the S&P spray and pressed the button about two inches from her face. She collapsed in a pile of snot, tears, and pitiful mewling.

  While I’d been working, Morales managed to take down three junkies of his own. He had them lined up in a neat row of angst. Shadi had bagged one herself—a hulk of a man who looked like a kicked puppy in his cuffs.

  A quick scan of that part of the tunnel told me we’d managed to secure the spot. Morales punched the button on his vest. “This is Morales. We got ten tied up near the entrance for processing.”

  While he spoke, I got my two cuffed where they lay.

  “Good work, Agent Morales,” Gardner responded. “Proceed as we discussed.”

  “Roger that.”

  Morales turned to the team. “All right, you stay here until backup arrives to collect these guys,” he said to the two patrolmen. “You four take the tunnel to the right,” he said to Diesel and the other three tac wizards. They nodded and started out. “The rest come with me on the left,” he said to Shadi, Mez, and me.

  Shadi shot me a smile as we fell in behind Morales. “Fun, right?” she said, sounding as if we were playing paintball instead of raiding the lair of a violent coven.

  I realized with a start I was kind of enjoying myself, too. Whatever Mez put in those patches was still working with my adrenaline to improve my stamina. I’d just taken down three perps but I was barely winded. Part of me felt guilty because I shouldn’t have been using a potion to begin with, but another part of me—one long forgotten—was getting off on the feeling of power. It was hard to feel bad with the adrenaline and magic giving me such a buzz. Besides, it wouldn’t last long since I’d removed the damned thing.

  “Prospero?” Morales called. “Let’s go!”

  Once we entered the mouth of the tunnel, we paused to regroup. “All right,” Morales said to our huddle, “be ready. The Sentinels probably heard us coming and may be waiting to ambush. Mez, get those potion bombs ready.”

  “Already ahead of you.” He held something in his hand. He shoved a second one in my left. “If you see any movement, pull the pin and lob this at them.”

  The metal orb felt heavy in my hand. I raised it to my helmet light for a better look. It had a tab at the top. Like a grenade.

  “Just be sure you’re at least twenty feet back,” he added, “or you might get some of the blowback. Wait thirty seconds. When the screams stop, it’s safe.”

  I swallowed and shoved it in the breast pocket of my vest, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it.

  “Shadi and I will take point. Prospero, be ready to provide cover.”

  I nodded and removed my Glock from my belt. “Ready.”

  “Move out.” Morales and Shadi took off at a jog. Mez shot me a here-goes-nothing-look and together we took off after them.

  This section of tunnel was enclosed, like a large concrete pipe. Our boots splashed through puddles of liquids best left unexamined. Every now and then, an echo would carry down to us from clashes the other cops were having in other parts of the tunnels. But our path remained unobstructed except for piles of trash.

  Eventually, we came to a spot where the pipe opened up to the platform. A throne made from an old armchair, tires, and two rusty bumpers sat empty in the dark. Morales put a fist up to indicate we should halt. Then he slowly worked his way to the lip of the tunnel. We’d all turned off our lights, so we couldn’t see much besides vague shadows. The only sound was my heartbeat thumping in my ears and the sound of air scraping in and out of my lungs.

  My instincts prickled with something that felt a lot like alarm. It took me a minute to pinpoint the source of my unease. “Guys, this feels wrong,” I said. “Why haven’t we run into anyone else yet?”

  Shadi shrugged. “Maybe they’re all asleep.”

  It was true that blood fiends tended to be nocturnal, but it still felt off. Wouldn’t Bane have Sentinels set up at intervals?

  Morales made a hand signal to move in. He and Shadi moved forward to check the area. Finally, I heard a whispered “Clear” from Shadi, followed soon by another from Morales. They jumped back down to join us.

  “Okay, the area we believe to hold the stash is probably three hundred yards farther. That’s probably where we’ll find the guards. Be ready to go in hot and fast.”

  Morales gave the signal to head out. This section of the tunnel had several niches set into the walls, which meant each had to be cleared, making our progress slow.

  Finally, up ahead, the light looked different as we approached another train platform.

  “Cover me,” Morales whispered. I crouched down by one wall and Shadi took the opposite. With each step he took, I scooted forward a bit. Behind us, Mez readied his potion bombs.

  When we’d studied the blueprints, we discovered this platform was different from the other because it held a large room originally designed to be an electrical shed. We figured it was the most likely place for the stash since it had a door Bane could lock and guard.

  “Clear.” Once Morales called to us, we all climbed the platform.

  Once again, my alarms started buzzing. “Guys, something’s really wrong here.” Where were all the Sentinels?

  The door was maybe fifteen feet away. The area in front of it was covered in trash, just like the rest of the tunnels. I shined my light around and froze when it hit the ceiling. Over our heads, someone had spent some time creating a spray-painted masterpiece.

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” Morales hissed. He was approaching the door but stopped when I spoke.

  I pointed up and everyone stopped to look. “I think someone’s trying to tell us something.”

  “It’s a lizard eating a pig—so what?” Shadi said.

  “That’s a red dragon,” I corrected. “The symbol of Bane’s coven. Anyone want to take a wild guess at what the pig might represent?”

  “That could have been done anytime.” Morales n
arrowed his eyes as he studied it. “It’s certainly not the first graffiti we’ve seen down here.”

  “Yes, but it’s the first we’ve seen outside a stash room that is conspicuously free of guards,” Mez said. “What if it’s a message?”

  Morales raised his gun and turned back toward the door. “Only one way to find out.”

  The wizard and I exchanged a tense look. Finally, he shrugged and pulled a potion bomb from his bandolier just in case. “Here goes nothing.”

  Since Morales had left the ram near the entrance of the Arteries because of its weight, he had to open the door the old-fashioned way.

  “Step back,” he warned. Two seconds later, he raised his weapon and shot the lock. Sparks flashed off the metal door, which now sported jagged bullet holes. When no one fired back through the door or threw it open to engage, he started ramming the thing with his shoulder.

  While he punished the door for existing, Shadi stood nearby with her rifle. Mez and I hung farther back, offering additional cover.

  Soon the door surrendered and flew open. Morales dropped into a crouch and aimed his weapon into the dark room. Shadi went forward, shining her light inside. I couldn’t see past either of them but moved ahead just in case things got spicy.

  “What’s that?” Morales called. “Get the lights!”

  A split second later, Shadi flipped the switch and light spilled out of the room to create a pool on the platform.

  “Shit!” Shadi called.

  “Prospero, Mez—get in here!”

  My heart started running before my feet did. The short distance separating us felt like miles instead of yards. When I skidded to a halt inside the room, Morales was squatting next to something. Shadi was in my way so I couldn’t see what. There was no doubt we’d found where they’d kept the stash. The scent of ozone permeated the concrete and made my lungs feel clogged with dust.

  “What’s wrong?” Behind me, I heard Mez echo my question.

  Morales didn’t say anything, just looked at me with a grim expression that made my bowels feel watery. His finger pointed to the only item in the room—an empty, upturned crate. A piece of paper lay in the center.

  “What’s it say?”

  Morales lifted it, read it, and then passed it over with a grim expression.

  The words were written in dark red—blood, probably. “Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves.”

  “What the hell?” Mez asked.

  “Not often you hear a wizard quote the Bible,” Morales said, his jaw tight.

  “How the fuck did he know we were coming?” I said.

  “Let’s figure that out once we get the hell out of here,” Shadi said.

  Morales punched the comm button on his vest. As soon as he finished filling in the commanders at the other end, shouted curses crackled into all of our ears.

  “Goddamn it, Morales. Get your team out of there, STAT.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. I was glad he didn’t argue. Lord only knew what other surprises Bane had stashed in those tunnels for us. We exited the room and gathered on the old platform to regroup.

  But before we made it more than twenty feet, high-pitched howls shattered the silence. It was the kind of sound that made you believe in the existence of the devil. It was not the clicking sounds of Sentinels. It was the howls of Gray Wolf freaks. A lot of them, too, judging by the echoes.

  My courage shriveled inside my skin. I could practically see the hackles rise on the back of Morales’s neck. “What the fuck?” His tone wasn’t frightened so much as pissed off.

  In the silence, Shadi cocked her assault rifle with an ominous metallic crack. A smile spread across her dark face and for a moment I wondered whether the addicts were the ones who should worry.

  I’d learned from experience that Gray Wolf users enjoyed human flesh, but they also fed off fear. They sipped it from the air like a fine wine, savoring the taste of terror. I couldn’t count how many of them were howling from the tunnels. Hell, I couldn’t even tell which tunnels they were coming from. But I knew we were outnumbered.

  Morales shot me a look as he removed a second weapon from his hip holster. I didn’t bother telling him that Mundane bullets were as effective on a pack of blood fiends as a pellet gun was against a herd of bulls. I trusted that he was smart enough to heed my warning about playing this carefully. In truth, my heart had started doing a tap dance against my ribs the minute I heard the first howl.

  “Prospero?” Mez this time. He sounded less sure of himself than the other two, but I guess that was to be expected from someone who spent most of his time tinkering with beakers.

  “Stay calm. They’re trying to make us run.” Wolves loved to play chase. “Hold your ground and they’ll eventually come to us.”

  The howling went on for what felt like hours. There’s this weird effect after you listen to feral beasts snarl at you long enough. At first it’s easy to remind yourself that it’s a trick, a ruse to scare you. But after a while, with the stink of shit and blood and the darkness and the shrill sound of their prey calls, it’s easy to forget to be brave.

  Despite my sweaty palms and the nagging stab at the base of my skull urging me to freak the fuck out, I planted my feet and focused on breathing slowly through my mouth. I could practically feel Morales’s heart pounding against the walls. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and his jaw clenched even as he hunkered into his fighting stance.

  Finally, the menacing howls got too close and the first shadows moved into my line of sight. They were technically human, in that they had two arms, two legs, one head, etc. But the minute the potion hooked its claws in them it transformed the appendages—elongated them, curled them, sharpened them. Fingers had become claws with long, yellowed nails caked with blood. Lips curled back to reveal canines, like daggers in the mouth. Ears grew and morphed into the highly advanced listening tubes of a predator. Backs bent to make running on all fours an option—the sound of claws scuttling against concrete was almost as spine-tingling as the howls. But what made my skin prickle were the glittering shards of yellow slashing through the darkness.

  When I’d faced Harkins I learned firsthand how strong Gray Wolf made an addict. Now my team faced a whole pack of them.

  “How many potion bombs do we have?” Morales asked.

  “A few, but they’re too close.” Mez shook his head. “We can’t risk one hitting us, too. I do have two knockout potions, though.”

  “Two won’t get us very far.” Morales punched a new cartridge into his rifle. “We shoot to kill.”

  Several more howls echoed from the darkness. My heart slammed against my ribs. One second we were surrounded by shadows and the stench of garbage. The next a group of monsters with fangs and claws and yellow eyes emerged from the dark like beasts straight out of hell.

  They came at us hard. Chaos in motion. Leaping up off the tracks as if they’d been catapulted. We barely had time to point our weapons before the first wave attacked.

  One landed almost on top of me. He came at me snarling, but my Glock was hot for action. The bullet ripped a path through his eye socket and made itself at home in his brain. His momentum carried him forward. Slammed me back against the concrete wall. The last gasp of breath escaped his mouth with the scent of blood and rot.

  He collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap. But before I could catch my breath, three more monsters replaced him.

  I shot one in the face. Pivoted. Used my right forearm to ward off the snapping teeth of another. With my free hand, I removed the salt flare from my left side. Slammed it up under the asshole’s chin and fired. The surface of his face exfoliated into one large wound. His screams pierced my eardrums and crawled inside my chest. I needed to finish him, but before I could, two strong hands grabbed my arms from behind.

  I didn’t have to think about my next move. On autopilot, I slammed my head back and punched my heel down into the soft instep of my attacker. The hands didn’t ease up and no yelps of
pain escaped him. But my scalp stung as if I’d hit a couple of teeth, so I knew I’d clocked him good.

  I threw my weight forward, going limp. Slid out of his arms and swiveled so I landed on my back. The instant I made contact with the floor, I pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through his chest, just to the left of his breastbone. The fiend shrieked in rage and lunged toward me. The second bullet finally brought him down after it tore through his esophagus. His weight landed on top of me like a sack of anvils. I kicked him off me and rolled.

  Other gunshots cracked off the walls and pounded against my eardrums. I squinted through the dim light and the smoke to take stock. Morales and Shadi were fighting back-to-back, picking off any wolves who even looked in their direction. I could see Mez, but occasionally the air sizzled with the static of spent magic from one of his party favors.

  It was hard to get a head count through the chaos, but I managed to identify at least a dozen deformed shapes outlined in the shadows. The potion patch had worn off, but my adrenaline was pounding like lightning through my veins.

  A new figure ran at me from the tunnel. She wore a dress over her furry body that tented her thin frame like a muumuu. The floral catastrophe screamed Goodwill donation box.

  I raised the Glock, only then realizing I’d lost count of my bullets. The woman ran at me so fast I didn’t have the luxury of a tactical reload, so I just pointed the gun and prayed I had enough juice to bring her down.

  The woman fell to her knees like a two-dollar whore. A dark-red splotch spread across the chest of the dress. Her hands clawed at the stain, as if she could scratch it away. When that didn’t work, she pacified herself by sucking the blood from her fingertips. She looked so happy that I could only watch in horror, mesmerized by the unsettling image.

  “Kate!” Morales shouted. My head jerked up. “Behind you!”

  I swiveled, bringing up my gun as I went. A flash of pale skin and lips red with blood.

  Click. Click. Click.

  It was on the last click of the empty magazine that I recognized the face.

  I dropped the gun as if it had burned me. My mind reeled. The sharp claws of fear scratched down my spine.