The Junkyard Druid Box Set 2

by M. D. Massey

  I made a mental note to have one of Maeve’s fixers mind wipe the couple in Unit 4016. By the time I hit the balcony, I could tell it was already a shit-show up on the penthouse level. The first indication was that my sensitive ears caught the familiar sounds of violence and mayhem coming from above. And second, a body plummeted past me flailing and screaming bloody murder. They were moving way too fast to get an ID, so I glanced over the side to see if it was someone I knew.

  Ew. Nope, not anyone important. Time to get my ass moving.

  I started speed-climbing from balcony to balcony, scrambling up the side of the building like a crack-addicted spider monkey going after the last rock in the bag. I hit the top floor and vaulted myself over the edge, but I was on the other side of the building from the mystery wizard’s penthouse suite. With no time to waste, I climbed up and jumped the walls that separated the balconies until I reached my destination.

  Holy hell—what a fucking scene this is.

  There were body parts everywhere, and from the smell I deduced they were almost all vamps. One of the girls Remy had been feeding on floated face down in the hot tub, her blood gradually turning the water a pale shade of pink. The other girl cowered behind a large potted plant—apparently, she hadn’t yet been tapped by any of the vamps present for a quick heal or boost of energy.

  The glass doors leading from the balcony inside had been shattered and torn from the frame. A bedroom lay beyond that entry, where more charred and dismembered corpses adorned the floor and furniture nearby. From somewhere inside the penthouse apartment, I heard Remy, Cornelius, and Germain yelling curses at each other in various languages, a conversation that was punctuated by the sounds of furniture breaking and the occasional small explosion.

  I grabbed the girl hiding behind the planter, lifting her gently and setting her on the other side of the wall, in the neighbor’s patio balcony.

  “Get the fuck out of here—and stop hanging around vampires.”

  She nodded nervously while avoiding my gaze, clutching her bikini top to her chest as she padded off into the neighboring condo.

  Guess nobody locks their doors up here—why would they? Rich people, go figure. I shook my head and turned my attention to the fight going on inside. Time to make my entrance.

  I barreled through the entry to the bedroom at a crouching run, shattering the doorframe as I continued straight through to the living room. The scene there was a mess. There was broken glass everywhere, along with burned and charred furniture and body parts. The thick, dark blood of vamps painted the walls and ceilings, and the sofa was half-melted by what looked like an acid of some sort and half on fire.

  The wizard stood on the balcony above, surveying the carnage. He’d reverted back to the male version of himself that I’d seen through the portal of my prison cube, so I assumed that was his true form. I still couldn’t make out a face, but I did notice that weird clawed hand of his poking out from his sleeve.

  On the lower level of the condo, mayhem reigned supreme. Gaius lay in a broken and unconscious heap, sprawled across the kitchen counter with a toupee clutched in his hand. Guess the hair hasn’t grown back yet—shame. The other three vamps darted to and fro, human-shaped blurs that chased each other around the space. Every so often, one blur would throw a glass vial at another, missing for the most part, but still doing a tremendous amount of damage.

  Each time those vials struck the floor, or the walls, or a piece of furniture, they exploded and released their contents into the environment, some of it splashing on Germain’s intended targets. Fire, acid, frost—it appeared he knew a thing or two about using elemental magic via alchemical means, at least enough to hold his opponents at bay. But, he couldn’t keep it up forever.

  I gathered in the scene in the span of a few seconds, then jumped into the fray, grabbing a passing blur by the neck with my huge Fomorian hands. As my prey squirmed in an attempt to escape my vice-like grip, I took a moment to determine the unfortunate bastard’s identity. On confirming that I’d nabbed Remy Decoudreaux, I tossed him through a nearby window, hard enough to separate the pane from the frame.

  “Surprise, motherfuckers!” I shouted to no one in particular. “Look who’s back!”

  20

  As Remy went sailing out into the Austin night, the tableau before me froze for a brief moment. Cornelius glared at me from across the room, then glanced at the now empty window frame. Proffering me one final scowl, he leapt after the NOLA coven leader.

  That left me, Germain, and the wizard—and Gaius too, but he didn’t count.

  Now that the playing field had been leveled, I wasted no time going after my prey. Knowing that it took a little time to rev up the Eye, I also knew my ability to withstand its blasts would be useful, yet limited. My Fomorian body was uniquely capable of channeling the Eye’s energies, giving me at least some resistance to the destructive capabilities of that magic.

  But that didn’t mean I was immune to it. Not by a long shot.

  As soon as I moved, the wizard released a spell at Germain with that withered, deformed hand. I sensed rather than saw the magical energy he released—a powerful stasis spell that froze my companion in place, taking him out of play.

  Whoever this guy is, I can’t match his magic on my best day.

  The hairs on my arms stood on end, indicating that the wizard was spinning up another hellaciously strong spell. My eyes zeroed in on him as I leapt toward the balustrade above. Once again, I noticed that silver nimbus of light, the same one that had shone on the runes in the prison cube.

  Where else have I seen that before?

  I’d reached the balcony railing when the wizard released his spell, another invisible magic barrier designed to prevent me from getting to him. A quick look in the magical spectrum showed me that the protective spell he’d cast was spherical, designed to keep me at bay while he figured out what he was going to do next. Such spells were stationary by nature, so he had nowhere to run.

  Gotcha, you prick.

  I plunged my hands into the barrier, tearing a small opening in the weaves as I wriggled my fingers inside. Once I’d gained purchase, I began pulling the edges of the hole apart using my Fomorian strength and knowledge of warding magic.

  All the while, I kept my eyes on the wizard behind the invisible shield just a few feet away from me. “You’re done for—and I will have my Eye back.”

  “The Eye doesn’t want you,” he rasped. “I’ve agreed to its terms, and now the artifact and I are fully integrated, symbiotes working synchronously to achieve converging goals.”

  I grunted with the strain as I tore the hole wider. “And what—goals—would those be?”

  “The first you already know,” he sneered. “To free the Earth from the influence and presence of the Tuatha Dé Danann. That has always been the Eye’s intent and purpose, and if you’d only cooperated with the artifact in achieving it, you’d still be in possession of its power.”

  I’d ripped a decent-sized hole already, but it wasn’t enough to allow me to squeeze through the barrier. Eager to get at my enemy, I tore at it with even greater intent.

  “You know—it’ll be free—once the fae—are gone, right?”

  I could hear a sneer in his voice as he responded. “Yes, but by then I’ll have achieved my own goals. Thus, it will not matter.”

  “Not—if I stop—you two—first,” I growled.

  By this point, I’d almost made the rip wide enough to squeeze through. I stepped on the lower edge with one foot, pulling in three directions to make the opening wide enough to get at the wizard. At the same time, my enemy pulled the glove from his twisted right hand.

  He shouted with triumph in his voice. “I think not, McCool. Behold!”

  “Behold? Seriously?” I had to laugh at how ludicrous the whole thing was. My laughter didn’t last long.

  The wizard held that deformed appendage up, palm extended toward me. The thing was a withered, dead version of my claw-like left hand in my current f
orm. And dead in the center of the palm, Balor’s Eye was embedded into the dried, decayed flesh, a red-hot lump of molten mineral with a pupil that darted to and fro, looking for something to incinerate.

  Fucking hell. The crazy bastard grafted a mummified Fomorian hand onto his arm. That’s how he’s managing to control it.

  Seeing Balor’s Eye embedded in that hand triggered a slew of ideas and emotions in me. Chief among those thoughts was the realization that I’d needlessly blinded myself each time I’d used the Eye.

  Wait a minute—this whole time, I could have had that thing embedded in my hand instead of behind my eyes? Are you fucking kidding me?

  I expected the wizard to unleash the Eye’s formidable, deadly energies on me. But instead, he turned his head toward another high-rise to the northwest—a forty-story, glass and steel residential building. Nodding once, he raised his withered hand, palm extended, to point the Eye at the other building.

  “No, don’t—!”

  My protest fell on deaf ears. As the wizard cut loose with the Eye’s full power, a beam of pure molten energy instantly vaporized another of the penthouse condo’s windows. Once that obstacle had been removed, the beam shot forth, connecting with the other high-rise at its leading edge, somewhere around the twenty-fifth floor.

  The ruthless son of a bitch moved his arm just a hair, but at this distance it was enough to direct the beam of energy clean through the neighboring structure from one side to the other. Wherever the glowing shaft of light hit, that section of the building went up in a cloud of ash and smoke. When the dust cleared, I saw that the magic heat ray had disintegrated an entire floor of the building, save for a few concrete and steel support columns that miraculously remained intact.

  My face twisted in a mask of rage and horror.

  “Mallacht Dé ort, wizard!” I howled, meaning every word of the old Irish curse.

  “There is no god but magic,” he rasped in reply. “You of all people should know that by now.”

  I glanced back at the building, which somehow still remained standing. Someone needs to evacuate the building—now.

  “When I’m done with you, your god will be pain,” I snarled, releasing my hold on the barrier.

  In the blink of an eye I was in motion, my huge Fomorian legs pumping like pistons as I sprinted toward the hole the Eye’s blast had left in the side of the wizard’s apartment. As I neared the edge, I leapt with everything I had at the teetering remains of the other tower, all while its remaining support columns screeched under the sudden stresses placed on them.

  I was still airborne when the building began to collapse upon itself. I hadn’t been old enough to witness 9/11 firsthand, but I’d seen the footage, and this was a mirror image of each tower’s collapse. Heat from the blast must have weakened the steel in the remaining support columns, causing them to fail catastrophically, just as it had in the Twin Towers. First, the top floors fell while remaining relatively intact, crushing the next floor down. This caused a chain reaction as the lower floors each buckled sequentially under the weight of the falling structure above.

  Floor after floor gave way, and as they did the upper half of the building gained momentum, dropping faster and faster toward the ground below. Finally, the upper floors hit ground level with an earth-shattering boom. The impact threw dirt, dust, and debris up in a rapidly expanding cloud, obscuring the area around the building for an entire city block and busting out windows in every nearby building.

  When I landed on an adjacent five-story apartment complex, the entire area below was completely concealed in the dust cloud caused by the building’s collapse. But what my eyes couldn’t reveal, my other senses might. I cupped a hand to my ear, hoping and praying I’d pick up something, anything to indicate survivors were in the rubble.

  All I heard was the sound of steel creaking and straining, electricity sparking, fires burning, and a forty-story collapsed superstructure settling into its final grave.

  I fell to my knees and buried my deformed face in my hands.

  “My God, what have I done?” I whispered.

  Then, the screams started. Not from the structure, but from the surrounding area. People who had been asleep in their beds awoke to a horrific tragedy. The concussive force of the collapse had sent debris, including glass fragments, steel, and concrete, flying in all directions, injuring passersbys. Others were picked up by the pressure wave caused by the displacement of air as the building fell, tossed like rag dolls against cars and other buildings.

  Multiple motor vehicle accidents had been caused by the debris cloud. As the cloud continued to spread, I heard the sounds of cars screeching to a halt only to be struck by those vehicles coming up behind. Every few seconds, the squeal of tires and brakes would be followed by the sickening crunch of glass and steel, echoing through the streets below.

  I froze. Never in my life had I witnessed such destruction—at least, not all at once. Certainly, I’d seen the aftermath of nuclear war and an undead outbreak during my time in the Hellpocalypse, but this was happening in real time. And it was horrific.

  My nostrils filled with the smells of burning plastic, wood, and bodies, as well as fresh blood and human waste. My ears now heard the sounds of dozens of people, all calling out for help at once. Grown men and women were shouting the names of their loved ones or screaming in abject terror. Children were crying for their parents. I might have even heard someone’s final death rattle.

  I wanted to help, but I had no idea where to even begin.

  From the dust cloud below, Germain whizzed up next to me in a blur of motion and supernatural grace. “Sacré Dieu… ‘cest un cauchemar,” he exclaimed in horror.

  His voice snapped me out of my stupor. I can engage in self-hate later. Right now, people need our help. I stood and faced Saint Germain, swallowing a lump in my throat before I spoke.

  “Dozens of bystanders were injured when the building fell, and there may still be survivors in the debris. Call Luther and tell him to bring the coven to help with the rescue efforts. Then, I want you to use that blood-detecting nose of yours to look for anyone who still might be alive.”

  The old vamp nodded. “It will be done,” he said before speeding off.

  I shifted to look as human as possible while still retaining much of my Fomorian strength, speed, and durability. Then, I slipped on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, forgoing shoes to save time and so I’d look like just another survivor. Listening intently for the location of the closest victims, I locked their positions into my memory, then took a moment to send out a text to everyone who mattered.

  Huge tragedy at Fifth and West. Please come help.

  With a sigh, I tucked my phone into my Bag and leapt down to street level to begin searching for survivors.

  The rescue effort lasted through the night and into the following day. Luther and the oldest members of his coven showed up first, darting in and out of the scene while they could still use the settling dust cloud to disguise their movements. They saved quite a few people. Could’ve been more if Luther had brought the entire coven. But with all the blood around, well—the young ones might have gone crazy and started feeding on the survivors.

  Yeah, imagine that.

  Bells and several independent hunter crews showed up after that, along with the entire Austin Pack. Samson organized his people into teams, and Belladonna did the same with the hunters who arrived. Bells was a natural leader, and she did a hell of a job keeping the human hunters on task as the day wore on.

  Despite the tragedy all around, I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell with pride a bit at watching the girl work. But I kept it to myself. Too much to do, and all that.

  Maeve portaled in on a local rooftop with every healer she could muster, plus a mind mage to make sure none of the survivors talked. Vamps, ’thropes, and hunters shuttled the injured into makeshift field hospitals manned by Maeve’s people, and the Faery Queen kept prying eyes away with her magic.

  Finn and Maureen ev
entually turned up as well, pitching in at a couple of medical stations without saying a word. They just went to work, healing the wounded and saving lives where they could. Throughout the night, I caught them casting concerned glances my way when they thought I wasn’t looking. Not in the mood for conversation, I let them think I didn’t notice.

  Meanwhile, Chief Ookla, Guts, and most of the Shanktooth troll clan arrived via the sewers, along with a shaman to keep their odor-negating spells working—that way, they wouldn’t harm any potential survivors with their smell. The lot of them worked below ground level to search for anyone who might still be alive and buried in the rubble. At first, they were enthusiastic about their task, but after a while, it was like watching a search and rescue dog working a dead scene—heartbreaking.

  The trolls found body after body, all deceased, as they picked through the rubble well into the next day. By the time the human crews from above began to penetrate the dark below, the disappointment and sadness around the clan was more palpable than the powerful odors they usually emitted. Everyone knew they were retreating from more than just the deadly threat of encroaching daylight when they headed back to their homes.

  And me? I kept working the area—righting flipped cars, going through apartment buildings, and searching every side street and back alley for any living survivor. I’d started with the rubble, but my senses soon told me that no one had survived the building’s collapse. Not. One. Soul. Worse, the debris was a charnel house, with body parts everywhere. I decided to leave the recovery of the dead to the authorities.

  Finally, sometime during the afternoon of the next day, I was about to head back in when I felt a hand clamp on my shoulder. There stood Finnegas, his white, pearl-buttoned cowboy shirt and jeans stained with blood. He had dark circles under his eyes and a look that said it’d been a long time since he’d seen such tragedy.

  “It’s done, son. Time to pack it in.”

  I looked out the front windows of the restaurant. Maeve had set up one of the aid stations here the night before, and I’d been delivering the wounded here since then. I’d lost count of how many people I’d pulled from wrecked cars and debris.