Ash Addict

by Al K. Line

  They came from every direction. On foot, on horseback, running, walking, crawling, even on bicycles. Vehicles were everywhere, the early arrivals having the chance to get up close and personal before, by the look of it, Cerberus had blown them and their vehicles up with something large and deadly.

  It was the perfect cover for a lone wizard with thievery in his heart.

  Part of me felt sorry for the death, part of me didn't. It was their choice, their decision, and we all have to take responsibility for our actions. Everyone knew what to expect, and even if the location had been utterly secure the scene would have been the same, for the draw was too much of a magnet for the magical magpies.

  As helicopters kicked up dust from the countless holes caused by explosions of one kind or another, and the wind whipped at my jacket and threatened to lift Grace until I upped the magic so she'd keep in place, I crouched low and dashed forward, avoiding Hounds and wizards alike. I knew exactly where I was going.

  At the top of the rise, directly above the offices and the medical area where I'd just spent a little time being poisoned, I came face to face with the full scope of the battle. The sheer numbers astounded me. There were already thousands of people, more of us than Cerberus, and they were coming thick and fast, numbers increasing exponentially. I assumed it would continue to do so throughout the night as people made their way here from all over the country, and from neighboring countries for that matter.

  This would continue for days, until eventually everyone making the trip arrived. Well, they'd be sorely disappointed, as by then I'd have the goodies and only slim pickings would remain.

  I kept chortling to myself, tittering like a schoolgirl as I dodged bodies and bullets, staying low, intent on my prize.

  I was, and it concerned me a little, in a very chipper mood.

  Breaking and Re-entering

  Something whizzed past my head, almost nicking Grace. Anger flared, uncharacteristic I know, but she was dear to me. I didn't even bother to glance around to see if it was from a bullet or a wizard's hand and just sped up, crouching lower still, focused.

  Being clearer of mind than when I had escaped this place, and with fewer people attacking me personally, I took in the true extent of the devastation wrought by the vampires intent on freeing Tasius and me. It was better than I'd thought, better than I'd dreamed. It was a free-for-all. The huge craters that exposed the interior were larger and more numerous, giving easy access no matter how hard the Hounds tried to protect them. They were so big and unstable that the Hounds didn't have a hope of circling them and keeping everyone out.

  And there were many such holes.

  Hounds formed tight semi-circles on stable ground at the edges but it wasn't enough to stop people circling behind and dropping inside when they were distracted trying to stop a full-frontal assault. Others came from above, using wild, hardly contained magic to shoot inside as fast as a dropped rock. And judging by the sounds they made once they got inside, landing like one too.

  I left the muppets to their own foolish attempts at robbing the largest secret organization in the country, certainly the best-equipped and undoubtedly the most fervent, and skirted further from the main action. Beyond the main scene of incursion, there were several smaller holes created by explosions gone awry, and it was these I was interested in.

  To be sure I was heading in the right direction, I pulled out Wand and flung him skyward. He shot up like an arrow aimed good and true, then, mocking the laws of physics, he turned a sharp right angle and sped along parallel to the ground. All the while, he relayed images of what he could see. A dizzying series of snapshots almost impossible to figure out, spanning three hundred and sixty degrees and taking in the whole sorry scene. I let my attention focus on what was in front, and below, and when he arrived Wand hovered over a small hole and pointed down, although to be honest I don't think he needed to do that to see.

  "Perfect, right?"

  "You bet. So, come on, what you waiting for?"

  With a grin, I redoubled my efforts and sprinted for all I was worth as choppers roared across the battlefield mere feet from my head and angry men raked the ground with bullets and mortars. I skirted holes into the interior, jumped small crevices only deep enough to twist my ankle, then arrived at our chosen entry point. Wand did a flip then shot back toward me. I lifted my arm, caught him in a tight grip, and smiled at my familiar.

  "Good job, dude."

  "Thanks. Now, in we go."

  With a quick check to make sure nobody was looking, I bent my legs, flexed my abs, readied for impact, and jumped into the darkness.

  You Again

  And landed on something that felt familiar.

  "Get off me you stupid bugger," moaned what sounded suspiciously like Valera.

  "Yeah, watch it, Arthur. You'll break him," warned Nohr.

  I scrambled off the daft old sod, not without giving him an elbow in the nether regions for being here, then stood and held out my hands. I hauled him up then faced my friends; they looked guilty as hell but defensive at the same time. Guess I appeared the same.

  "What are you doing here?" we all asked at the same time.

  "You should be at home," we blurted simultaneously.

  "Okay, me first," I said, adjusting Grace and brushing myself down. "What are you doing here? I thought you guys went home? I thought I asked you to stay away? Did I? Things are sketchy after the fight at Ivan's." To be honest, I didn't have a clue where they'd got to, or if I'd even spoken to them before I left.

  "You asked us not to get involved with the vampire showdown that's bound to happen, that you'd deal with Ivan and Tasius. You said nothing about not coming back here."

  "He's right," agreed Nohr. "Not a word was said about that."

  The two wily wizards grinned at me sheepishly. I couldn't help but laugh.

  "Guess we all had the same idea."

  "You bet we did. Once we came to rescue you we knew we had to return. Then some numpty told the whole world about it."

  "Um, that might have been Ivan, with a little help from Vicky. Or maybe not Vicky, some other computer whiz. I thought it was a great idea. Teach Cerberus a lesson they'll never forget, certainly never recover from."

  "Haha, you got that right. But let's hope there's still plenty left for us."

  "Let's go find out, shall we?" They nodded eagerly, eyes wide with excitement in the low light coming from wands and fingertips.

  We checked our location, and I knew we were close, could feel the emanations from the warehouse. We were almost on top of it, several rooms away at most. A place unguarded because, well, because it was a broom closet.

  How did I know this? Because the moment we moved, I kicked over a bucket with a mop in it, Valera somehow got himself tangled up in a giant-sized pack of loo roll, and Nohr knocked over a whole collection of brooms leaning in a corner.

  At least the door was open, but if anyone had been out in the hallway we would have certainly been heard.

  Luckily for us, there was nobody there, but there was one hell of a racket coming from the gaping hole we now stood facing. An opening leading directly into the warehouse that was right now teeming with patrolling Hounds, several very high-up knobheads judging by the amount of tweed, twatty haircuts, and posh accents barking orders. Oh, and did I mention the hordes of baying witches and wizards running around like nutters, as excited as if they'd been told they could fill their trolley for free in the supermarket?

  It was, and I am not exaggerating, chaos on an unprecedented scale.

  Exciting

  Wizards and witches aren't ones for playing nice when it comes to getting what they want. You may think this means they were bickering, fighting amongst themselves, arguing over who got what and why they deserved it more. There was a bit of that, but mostly what we were confronted with in the vast underground warehouse where pockets of light spilled in from the numerous holes in the dizzyingly high ceiling were all manner of odd looking people dashing this way
and that with looks of utter glee.

  Short men struggled under the weight of wooden crates piled in their arms making them unable to see. Tall wizards of seven feet, men who lived in the woods and remained remote from us townies and were only heard of in stories, true men of nature dressed in natural furs and lots of bits of stinky leather, strode purposefully through the throngs with strange objects clutched tight in their hands.

  Witches formed groups and were surprisingly organized, using small collapsible sack trucks. I even saw a cart pulled by a wolf hybrid, or maybe even a shifter who'd teamed up with them to share the goodies, to remove as much as they could.

  Many adepts were alone, like so many of us are throughout our lives, and were trying, and failing, to find specific items they knew Cerberus had in their possession. This was the thing about the place. It was nothing but a series, albeit a large series, of industrial shelving filled with crates of all sizes yet all rather uniform, give or take the change in basic design over the centuries. Just wooden boxes secured with wards that could undoubtedly be broken, and in some cases had been, with no way of knowing what was what. Numbers or letters were stenciled on the crates, the actual catalog obviously not pinned to a wall somewhere convenient so we could check the manifesto.

  I assumed there was a true inventory, probably computerized now, maybe even several hard copies somewhere secure, but unless I got Vicky to hack into their systems and discover the master list, I wouldn't know what was inside the crates. Neither did anyone else.

  So it was either pot luck, or you settled down and tried to break the wards on whatever took your fancy and hoped you didn't get shot by a Hound while you dicked about.

  Most took the sensible solution and grabbed what they could. The really sensible ones opting for small boxes to increase the haul.

  We ducked as a line of crates sailed overhead and then disappeared through the hole I'd come in by, a powerful person clearly staying above ground and using magic to grab a few artifacts.

  Hounds jumped in the air all around the warehouse, trying to snag crates drifting by lazily or zipping this way and that, many of them out of control.

  The Hounds were also shooting anyone they could take aim at, but there were more of us than them and even as we stood and watched, it was clear they'd be defeated. They were surrounded and attacked from all directions, including above, by those intent on getting what they came for.

  And yet, with all the fighting, the thievery, the energy that buzzed, and abandoned artifacts wreaking havoc, one thing was clear. It would take weeks for the magic users of the country to actually empty the warehouse. It needed teams of people who were organized, with vehicles and machinery, forklifts and large trailers, lorries and all the rest of it, to clear the place out. Not a bunch of misfits who knew nothing about factory work, and were too excited to even think straight.

  The collection was a major undertaking and we would hardly make a dent in it even if we had all night. I knew we didn't. Cerberus would gain back control eventually, I could feel it, sense it, as they got to grips with the attack, beefed up their defenses, more helicopters arrived, and they put up roadblocks and secured the perimeter from what were, in the end, mostly lone incursions from people with no experience of fighting let alone being shot at.

  It was now or never. And I had one thing most of these people didn't. My infinite bag.

  And so, for the second time, I opened it up and began to fill my boots.

  Fun Cut Short

  Valera and Nohr whooped as they skipped off into the maze of racking, bubbles of translucent protection ensuring they remained safe. They needn't have worried. Their tiny frames, albeit somewhat portly because they ate a lot of pies, were almost camouflaged thanks to drab hessian robes, blending as they did with the crates. I wondered if they were using magic to be so inconspicuous but either way, they were having fun.

  Wand flared and sigils activated as we worked in unison to create powerful changes to the air currents, lifting crates from their positions and directing them to the bag. I had to contain myself because I wanted to laugh and do a double middle finger whammy to any member of Cerberus who happened to be near. As a long line of goodies progressed from the higher racks—my reasoning being, the higher stuff had to be the best—I grinned manically, excited to see how much I could get in. I needed to speed things up, had to get as much as I could before everything became too confusing.

  As the first crate hovered overhead, ready to lower, Valera shouted, "Geddof me." He roared around the corner, closely followed by Nohr. Neither had their feet on the ground.

  "What are you guys—" I was lifted from under my arms, just had a chance to grab the bag, and then I was up, feet dangling.

  "What the hell?" I growled as I turned to see Ivan's grim features, holding me aloft without effort.

  "I knew you'd be here. What's wrong with you? You couldn't resist, could you? Come on, we've got things to do."

  "Wait! The artifacts. You can't make me leave before I get my fill. No, this is the only chance we'll get. It's inhuman. I'm a wizard, I have to have them."

  "Stop being such a baby. And it's already too late. I'm saving you, and your idiot friends. We're going. Now."

  I had no time to argue because Ivan had clearly made his mind up. For him to be here in person, getting his hands dirty, risking his life, it had to be serious. I still didn't want to go, and I wriggled and tried to prize his fingers apart from where he had a handful of my jacket, but it was no use, like trying to prize steel apart with a knife from the pound shop.

  Valera and Nohr were arguing with the two tall vamps carrying them like small, knobbly bags of potatoes, but the men remained impassive, merely moved past us then were gone in a blur.

  "Ivan, let me explain," I moaned, feeling like a naughty kid discovered stealing from the snack cupboard before breakfast.

  "No need," he whispered. "I know you too well, and I understand you can't help yourself."

  "Yeah, it's a medical condition." I smiled sheepishly then gave it up as a lost cause. If he was here to get me then he had good reason, reason beyond merely wanting to get the ashes as fast as possible.

  Ivan moved from stationery to super-speedy in an instant, and we were beneath the hole. He crouched, my toes touched the floor, then he launched up like Superman and shot skyward. We burst out of the hole, projecting ten feet above the ground, then landed with ease, smooth and slick as though he had pneumatics built into his legs.

  I stared around in horror. As Ivan released me and I stepped back, he nodded. "See? This is why I had to get you. You're no use to me dead. And, I owe you. You saved me a lot of trouble with the witches. This is payback."

  "No need, and you already saved me once from here. Although," I mused, "it was all your fault anyway." I'd never tire of reminding him of that.

  "Let's not play the blame game," he snapped. "Let's go." Ivan nodded to the men still dangling Valera and Nohr and they nodded back.

  Then they were off.

  I waved as my buddies gave a cheery thumbs up. They didn't mind, were happy enough. All just one fun adventure for the aging misfits.

  "Where to?" I asked, trying to pull my jacket into shape.

  "Just grab on. We'll be out of here in a moment." Ivan extended his hand and I took hold, feeling weird holding another man's hand.

  Ivan's tall, slender frame bent like a preying mantis and then he was in motion. Faster than you'd believe possible, straining through the carnage and madness like a bullet, of which there were many.

  I was off my feet, streaking out behind him like a ratty rag, horizontal and gripping like my life depended on it, which it assuredly did.

  Helicopters were deafening. They raked across the land now, the men manning the weaponry spraying gunfire indiscriminately. Seemed somebody had had a brain wave, and rather than Hounds fighting hand-to-hand with the magical community, they'd all retreated and left it to the heavy artillery.

  Witches grouped close, protecting the
mselves in large bubbles of rainbow-colored magic as they headed towards the woods. Wizards pointed staffs to the sky and shot angry flares of jagged death at the helicopters, forcing the pilots to bank wildly and several to retreat to a safe distance. But it was clear who was winning, the bodies told tale enough. The battlefield was clearing of would-be thieves as the helicopters flew back and forth, the co-ordination it took for them to continually cover the area with gunfire something to be admired if it wasn't so bloody annoying.

  As we sped down to the woods, I saw more and more people giving up the battle and running away, disappointed but still whooping and hollering, at least having had a vicarious, yet life-threatening thrill.

  Without warning, it all changed, and we thudded to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

  A small man wearing an awful lot of denim and more hair than I'd believed possible to fit on one head groaned as he kicked out, panicking as he clambered to his feet.

  "Need to watch where you're going," I muttered to Ivan as we stood rapidly.

  "It's not easy when you're going so fast."

  "Whatever. Let's go."

  "That's why I'm here." Ivan gave me a snarl for my trouble then grabbed me again, ready to run.

  "I'm fine," I said, turning as a sound so fierce it drowned out the helicopters ripped the air asunder.

  Valera and Nohr were by my side, Ivan was in front, surrounded by goons, yet we all stood stock still and watched the sky explode.

  Luminous orange, deepest vermilion, blinding white, an all-encompassing yellow sun, the colors mingled then burst into pure brilliance as a lone wizard stood at the top of the hill, staff raised aloft, hood blown back, hair blowing dramatically, shouting and then mumbling, his words lost to the maelstrom he created.