The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2

by M. D. Massey

  In short, this was going to hurt.

  The Council members attacked as soon as I triggered the wards. Well, that didn’t take long. They threw fireballs, cast lightning spells, and shot cones of frost and shards of ice at me all at once. While the impact pushed me back several feet, none of their spells were able to penetrate the magical shield. At least, not at first.

  While the Council launched their initial onslaught, I was already starting to change. As I did, my skin stretched and morphed to accommodate my larger bone structure and swollen musculature. With every inch that my bones lengthened, with every increase in the circumference of my limbs, torso, and head, Crowley’s spell weakened. Thus, the Council’s attacks began to penetrate the shadow shield, bit by bit.

  I was certainly a lot more resistant to damage in my Fomorian form. But until I achieved a complete transformation, I remained somewhat vulnerable to their attacks. Lucky for me, the Council failed to coordinate their attacks, and some of their spells veritably cancelled out the effects of others. Elemental magic was the “rock, paper, scissors” of the spell casting disciplines; thus, the fire spells negated the cold spells on contact and vice versa.

  Still, other attacks hit their mark, and those grew more and more effective as the seconds ticked by. Electricity began to singe and burn my skin like a thousand tiny bee stings, and as the effects grew stronger, my muscles began to twitch and spasm. One of the wizards even got the bright idea to use an acid spell. As Crowley’s shields began to fizzle out, drops of burning liquid leaked through gaps in the shadow magic, melting away pieces of my skin faster than I could heal.

  I covered my eyes and face as best I could, bracing under the sustained attacks of the Council as the seconds ticked by. The air around me smelled of ozone and acrid chemicals, and I was forced to hold my breath and shut my eyes for fear of splash and inhalation damage. I growled my rage and frustration as I completed the last stage of my change, the point when my skin thickened and hardened, sheathing me in a veritable layer of armor akin to kevlar or rhinoceros hide.

  Yet their spells still did their work. As the last vestiges of my friend’s magic died out, I suffered under the full force of the wizards’ fury. Even though I’d managed to complete the change, I lay in a heap on the charred, singed, melted, and frost-rimed floor, seemingly cowering beneath the combined might of the Council.

  Finally, I heard Battleaxe’s voice rise above the din of elemental magic.

  “Enough! You’ll bring the building down if you continue in this manner. He’s done for by now. Let security come in so they can bind him, and we’ll dispose of him once we’ve placed dampening cuffs on him.”

  The sheer volume and ferocity of the Council’s magical assault had kept any of their hunter-mage teams from entering the room, but now they filed in to surround me. I continued to lay on the floor, appearing to be nothing more than a shivering, smoldering heap. Once the teams had encircled me, a smile curled the corners of my crooked, deformed mouth.

  Without looking up, I spoke aloud with menace in my voice.

  “My turn.”

  I was somewhat magic-resistant in this form, especially against necromantic magic. For some reason, carrying the Eye around in my head for over a year had made it nearly impossible to use necromancy against me. Why, I had no idea—but it had saved my bacon back when the Dark Druid had tried to body snatch me.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t nearly as resistant to other types of magic, but I was still a lot tougher than most. So, when the Council’s flunkies cut loose on me with their spells, I didn’t feel a thing. Sure, their bosses had enough juice to hurt me, but these guys weren’t in the same league—not even close.

  Most small-caliber rounds were also no match for my hide, which gave me another advantage. Fortunately for me, the hunter teams were packing black rifles chambered in 5.56. While the U.S. military’s favorite caliber was fine for chewing up softer supernatural flesh, the tiny .223 caliber projectiles simply couldn’t penetrate my thick, Fomorian skin.

  I was tempted to tear off a section of the conference table and start swinging, but the truth was I hadn’t come here to kill anyone. And while these morons were trying to kill me, or at least do me great bodily harm, they were just flunkies doing their jobs. I know, I know—so were the Nazis at Auschwitz. Still, an eye for an eye means everybody goes blind, so I decided to exercise some restraint.

  I punched the floor with my huge, hammer-like right hand, sending out a shockwave that made the hunters and mages stumble. While they were recovering their balance, I grabbed their guns and twisted the barrels into pretzels. Moving at near vampire speed, I gave each of the hunters and mages a “love tap” across the jaw or at the base of the skull. Not hard enough to kill, but plenty rough enough to take them out of commission.

  This all happened in the span of a few seconds, and I snagged a body and tossed it at the nearest Council member as I finished. I was banking on the fact that they wouldn’t fry or otherwise harm their favorite thugs to save their own asses. All I needed was a moment’s distraction to finish enacting my plan, after all.

  As the unconscious Circle operative flew toward his intended target, I followed right behind, hoping that the mage would only see one of his own people coming at him and not my huge ten-foot-tall ass. As I expected, the wizard reacted with a spell that froze the operative in mid-air. I dove under the suspended figure, closing the distance between me and his boss.

  Rather than attacking the mage, I simply snatched away his robes. With my Fomorian strength, the whole garment tore off like one of those trick outfits on television. To my surprise, the individual I’d disrobed was none other than one of Austin’s city council members, Darius Simmons. Simmons was a known slime ball who’d been accused of using government and campaign funds to fuel his lavish lifestyle. Yet he somehow managed to emerge from every scandal looking and smelling squeaky clean.

  “Why am I not surprised?” I rumbled. “I wonder, who else among Austin’s elite will I find beneath those hoods today?”

  With that, the room broke out in sheer pandemonium. Some Council members cast temporary invisibility spells on themselves as they fled from the room. Others opened portals through which they leapt to make their escape. Still others decided to renew their magical attacks against me, causing poor Darius to dive over the remains of the conference table so he didn’t get fried.

  Undeterred, I made a beeline for the next closest Council member.

  Meanwhile, Battleaxe stood there looking at me, arms crossed and shoulders set as chaos erupted all around. I was too busy shielding my face from a fiery magical missile to catch exactly what she did next, but I did see her clutch her right fist. Instantly, an invisible force field slammed down around me, protecting me from the spells her fellow Council members had cast but also cutting me off from those who remained.

  When I reached out to probe the barrier I detected something unique in it, a distinctive quality that sang to me like the song of my people. It was the Eye’s magical signature, I was certain of it. I’d lived with that thing inside my head for over a year, and I could recognize its magic anywhere. She had it on her, and the Eye was helping her by boosting her containment spell.

  Gotcha.

  “Why, Madam Chairwoman,” I said. “I do believe you’re a liar, and a thief.”

  Rather than try to push the barrier back, I instead examined the weaves in the magical spectrum to find a weakness in the spell. Once I knew where to strike, I speared my hands into the barrier, forcing my fingers through as I attempted to rip it apart by strength and will alone. I strained my every muscle, exerting myself fully to tear a hole in the invisible cage so I could reach the one who’d cast it.

  As soon as I’d made a large enough tear in the barrier, I hocked phlegm from the back of my throat and launched a loogie that hit her square in the chest.

  I couldn’t see her reaction, but I knew I’d pissed her off by the way her body stiffened. I redoubled my efforts to reach her,
but before I could escape, she gestured as if shooing a fly away. Even as I was ripping her spell asunder, an unseen force wrapped itself around me like a giant hand. Then, it lifted me off the floor and tossed me through a nearby window.

  18

  I crash-landed on a nearby rooftop, suffering a few minor injuries but nothing that would be enough to bench me. After breaking into the roof access stairwell, I stealth-shifted and sprinted back to the Circle’s HQ, looking like a typical Austin bum in my ripped, charred, and shredded clothing. I wasn’t headed back to nab the Chairwoman, because she’d be long gone by now. I simply wanted to retrieve my things.

  I burst through the front doors and sprinted to the holding cell adjacent to the now empty lobby, unlocking the door with a cantrip without slowing down. Once I’d verified the room was as empty as the lobby, I stuck my head out the door to see if the coast was clear. Security hadn’t made it back down from their secret hideout above the seventy-umpteenth floor, but the indicator lights above the elevator doors said they were headed my way. After using another cantrip to fritz the elevators, I gathered my possessions and stuffed them inside my Bag before hauling ass down the street.

  Once clear of the building and any potential pursuers, I turned completely human and headed into a gas station to change. While I was cleaning up, I set my phone on the sink and hit a number I had on speed-dial.

  “Crowley, do you have it?”

  “Yes, the signature is very distinct. After you reverted to your human form, the locator spell picked up a second, weaker Fomorian DNA signature immediately. It hasn’t traveled far, however—only a few blocks. What do you want me to do?”

  “Text me the address and have Germain call me as soon as he wakes.”

  “Do you want me to come along? I could be of use if you’re going up against a member of the High Council.”

  I considered it, but didn’t want him to expose his whereabouts to The Cold Iron Circle on my account. “No, but thanks. We’ll handle it from here.”

  “Very well, then. I’ll give Germain the message.”

  The wizard ended the call without so much as a fare thee well, which was typical of him. While he normally had impeccable manners, Crowley rarely wasted time on social niceties when dealing with me.

  Ah, frenemies. Can’t live with them, and can’t shoot them when they hit on your girl—er, ex-girlfriend.

  It was four o’clock, which meant I had some time to kill. My stomach was grumbling—shifting always made me hungry—so I decided to call a ride share and grab a meal before Germain woke from his nap. I was halfway through a huge barbecue beef rib and half a dozen sides at Terry Black’s when my phone rang.

  Unknown caller. This should be interesting.

  “Speak.”

  The voice was disguised electronically. “I have vital information on your enemies. Meet me at Waterloo Park in thirty minutes, near the entrance to the flood control tunnel.”

  “Wait—”

  The line went dead. Shit.

  Waterloo Park was about a mile-and-a-half down the road. I could hoof it, but the Circle jerks were on the lookout for me and I didn’t want to risk being spotted. I called another ride share and had them drop me off at the southeast corner of the park. When no one was looking, I cast a “look away, go away” spell, then jumped over the side of the spillway, down to the creek bed and the tunnel entrance.

  The place was still under construction, part of a flood control and revitalization initiative that had cost the city nearly $200 million. Waller Creek Tunnel was a huge, man-made aqueduct built to prevent flash-flooding in the downtown watershed. Roughly a mile long and thirty feet in diameter, it was designed to divert rainwater and run-off directly into Ladybird Lake.

  Why my anonymous caller wanted to meet me here was a mystery to me, but it smelled like a trap. Cursing my curious nature, I pulled a long sword from my Bag and headed for the tunnel entrance.

  As I neared the tunnel, I saw a dark figure slip past the heavy iron grates that were designed to prevent debris and humans from entering. At first, I thought the person had gone incorporeal, which meant either they were a ghost or one hell of a powerful mage. But as I approached the barrier, I saw that the bars had been bent back to create a narrow gap for entry.

  Well, that’s not good.

  Whoever had done that had to be incredibly strong—easily as strong as I was in my stealth-shifted form. I decided to choose discretion over valor, shifting forms under my skin as a precautionary measure. When I reached the gap in the grate, I caught sight of that same dark figure fleeing down the tunnel.

  Fuck.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I squeezed through the gap in the grate and followed the figure at a distance, exercising caution as I searched high and low for any potential ambush. A hundred feet in, the light began to fade into darkness, so I lit a magic orb and set it aloft. While I had decent night vision in my current form, the orb would greatly reduce any advantage that a nocturnal creature with superior visual abilities might have.

  I edged my way around a bend, sunlight spell at the ready in case Remy and his thugs were setting me up. Further down the tunnel from somewhere deep within the gloom, a familiar voice shouted a greeting.

  “McCool-san, it is good to see you again.”

  Hideie!

  “You motherfucker!” I yelled as I leapt at the figure in the darkness. My orb tagged along for the ride, and the light it cast illuminated the tengu’s face as his strange features registered first amusement, then surprise.

  Didn’t expect me to be this fast, did you, punk?

  As I closed the gap at lightning speed—or, rather, Fomorian speed, which didn’t sound as cool but was just as impressive—my blade sliced through the air with a whistle, straight at the tengu’s collarbone. Most people think the neck is the proper target for a diagonal downward cut, but it’s not. What you want to target is the clavicle and subclavian artery, because it’s a two-for-one. Break the collarbone and you hamper the use of that arm considerably. Cut the subclavian artery, and your opponent is going to bleed out PDQ.

  Hideie’s weird avian eyes widened then narrowed, all in the short span of time it took to make my initial attack. Milliseconds before my blade landed, the mountain goblin beat his wings, which had the dual effect of blowing mud, sand, and water in my face as well as taking him out of range of my attack. I was already stepping through on the reverse cut, left foot shooting forward as I sliced left to right at an upward angle intended to cleave Hideie from his groin to his ribs.

  The yōkai was already on the move, again using his wings to propel him away from my attacks. I sprinted after him with a dizzying combination of cuts, forcing him to fly backward down the tunnel and away from me. Finally, he gained enough distance to snap his wings out fully, and with a single powerful stroke they carried him to the roof of the tunnel some thirty feet above me.

  I stood there in the shallow waters of Waller Creek, legs spread wide and sword held at the ready in a high two-handed guard. My chest was heaving, but not from the exertion. I simply wanted a piece of this guy, and badly.

  “Come down here and face me, coward—sword to sword!” I bellowed, the deep, growling bass of the beast within layered under my own voice.

  It sounded creepy as hell, and that was sort of the point. My Hyde-side’s voice triggered a primal reaction in most people, so I often used it to intimidate. Shit like that had been freaking people out since the Gerasene demoniac, after all.

  But, Hideie was no person—he was a demon himself, of a sort. And he was not impressed by my outburst. In fact, the mountain goblin smiled, in that weird way that only his strangely-pliable beaked mouth could. Truth be told, seeing him smile was almost as creepy as my double-voice trick.

  Almost.

  “McCool-san, you are full of surprises!” Hideie exclaimed with a gleam in his fucked-up bird eyes. “Days ago, you were hardly a match for my skill and speed in your human form. Yet here you stand, forcing me to use my
other talents to avoid your wrath. Not only do you manage to surprise—you present a mystery as well. How delightful.”

  “Draw that meat cleaver and come back down here, and I’ll unwrap this mystery for you up close.”

  His beak twitched slightly, and those big black pupils in his eyes widened a tad. Then, the birdman made a crisp bow, deeper than the last time we’d met.

  “It would be my honor to accept your challenge, McCool-san. First blood, or to the death?”

  The corners of my mouth curled into a wicked grin. “If you think I’m letting you walk out of here after you tricked me into giving up the Eye, you ought to share what you’re smoking.”

  “Hah! To the point as always, if lacking in eloquence. So be it.” He drew his sword from midair, as if pulling it from an invisible sheath. “Let us begin.”

  The tengu floated down from the ceiling without any apparent use of his wings. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he settled into gedan no kamae, a low guard stance. It was a defensive posture, which told me he was taking this duel seriously.

  I cracked my neck. “Alright, fucker. Let’s dance.”

  I ran at him, sword held high. Hideie responded by raising his sword into an offensive guard, hassō no kamae, as he sprinted to meet me.

  Holy shit—this is just like Rurouni Kenshin.

  We clashed blades as we passed each other, but I deflected and snuck in a cut just a tad faster than the tengu. I felt my blade catch on something, but I was already spinning on heel with a backhanded cut, so I didn’t have time to see if my blade was wet. Damned good thing, too. That ugly fucker was already dropping a straight vertical downward cut at my back.

  I managed to perform a decent roof block as I stepped off the X, then it was on. Human eyes couldn’t have followed what happened next, but I caught the action just fine in my stealth-shifted form. In the span of ten seconds, we traded dozens of blows. Cut, parry, counter, deflect, riposte—our exchange almost became a rhythm as we sliced and stabbed at each other from every angle imaginable.