Wizard War

by Sheryl Steines

  “But he’s not magical, and she’s had a lot of help getting around,” Sturtagaard said.

  “Yeah. There’s that.” Annie walked to the cell door, turned, and looked at Sturtagaard, ensuring her back was facing the camera aimed in the cell.

  “So you think someone in the French Wizard Guard is assisting her,” Sturtagaard replied.

  She smiled and placed a finger to her lips. “Amelie fell on my stake and was pierced right through her abdomen. She’s leaking blood and feeding uncontrollably. Where would she hide?”

  “I suggested at one point the student hostels or drug dens. Those would offer a steady stream of easy food and low cost, though if she’s being assist—”

  Annie placed a finger against her lips one more time and waved her hand across the last of Sturtagaard’s restraints. “I don’t trust you, but if you want back in the States, you would be wise to keep this conversation to yourself.”

  *

  Sturtagaard stepped into the sun. As his blood warmed, his stomach roiled and his head grew light and airy. The scent of iron in neat little human packages wafted to him; he pinched his lips together to hide his fangs that extended on their own. He wiped the saliva dribbling from his lips.

  Passersby skirted around him, either feeling the chill from his skin or shrinking in fear of his menacing stare. Annie pinched him as they strolled through the crowd, a gentle reminder to mind his vampire manners, if that was at all a possibility.

  Not far behind, Spencer and Jory discussed the weather, their project at work, and other topics of little importance. No one bothered to notice them.

  Roland and Marielle strolled at a slow pace that implied a deep desire to not find the princess. Roland had to coerce Marielle to follow; she had been acting like a petulant child, which greatly angered her partner. While she dawdled against a large, flat window of an antique shop, he stretched his neck and watched where the team was heading.

  Sturtagaard, being himself, took a long sniff of Amelie’s coffin lining before they entered Paris. It was intoxicating and made him dizzy with desire. Much like a bloodhound, he was able to follow the scent through the city. Once he established her trail, the blood droplets became easy to see and smell.

  They bypassed the hostels, hotels, and abandoned buildings and turned down a dark, dank street. The smell of urine and rotted food overwhelmed their nostrils.

  “You sure about this?” Annie asked as they passed an elderly homeless woman lying in the street.

  “She’s too weak and too bloody to be seen anywhere else. She needs a place to hide. I’m sure she’s down here,” Sturtagaard said.

  It was Annie’s least favorite aspect of her job, the constant necessity to be in this part of town where society’s forgotten people roamed aimlessly, their worldly possessions carried behind them in a stolen store cart or strapped to their backs. Some begged for food or drugs and oftentimes offered sex for either.

  Annie wished she could help—give them food, clothing, a better shelter—but today, there was nothing that she could do.

  I need to find Amelie!

  Sturtagaard sidestepped human waste and grimaced as though the people who lived here were not good enough for him to eat. She would have laughed at the ridiculousness of his snobbery if it wasn’t so sad.

  Dark and dingy, reeking of urine and blood—it was what Annie expected of the house Sturtagaard said Amelie was hiding in. Bodies lay on dirty mattresses, old worn furniture, a pile of newspapers. Whoever it was that was sleeping on the floor did so with a large wet stain at his crotch.

  How does he not know?

  Annie couldn’t pretend it didn’t bother her. It greatly did. With magic, you could conjure, summon, or make bigger, but you couldn’t create food, clothing, or shelter out of nothing. Some things you needed good old money for.

  Sturtagaard sniffed and grunted and shook his head. Amelie wasn’t in this room, but she was here. While they crossed the room to the stairs, Spencer and Jory stayed at the bottom, guarding the exit. Marielle and Roland remained outside on the street, just on the off-chance both teams lost their hold of the princess.

  The stairs creaked under their weight. The handrail had long been missing, so Annie’s fingers grazed the dirty wall as she felt her way upstairs, her flashlight cutting through the smoke haze. Blank, drugged-up faces barely registered that they were there.

  A perfect place for Amelie.

  Sturtagaard led Annie down the hallway. His grip on her arm was tight. She shivered at his icy chill.

  “A little overprotective much?” Annie whispered as she tugged her arm from his grasp.

  He held tighter. “If you die, I get staked,” he muttered.

  They entered the first room, empty of both the living and the undead, though the scent of human odors hung over the room. It permeated the drapes and the carpeting. The latter was so sodden with something, their shoes stuck when they walked.

  “I thought you could smell her,” Annie said as he pulled her out of the first room and into the second.

  “She had been in there at one time.” He pointed to the next door. “She’s in there.”

  He opened the door. The princess lay on a dirty mattress, her abdomen saturated with blood, her eyes dazed and unfocused she looked through them as though they weren’t there. The princess was attended to by a young girl with stringy matted hair. Her slight hands held a greasy cloth over Amelie’s deep wound.

  Annie texted Spencer before kneeling beside the vampire.

  Though the witnesses most likely would not remember anything, Annie couldn’t stake the vampire here.

  “Anastasia. I’m so glad I found you. We need to get you home,” Annie said to the vampire who rolled her head sideways, her lids closed.

  Annie jinxed the young girl, enough to convince her to stumble from the room.

  “She’s gone,” Sturtagaard said, leaving Annie to work quickly, magically cutting through the stake so it was flush against Amelie’s stomach. Once she had room, she placed a clean bandage over the hole, taping it to Amelie’s cold skin. The vampire growled and groaned. As Graham had warned, Amelie was slipping into a zombie state.

  “Why aren’t you staking the bitch?” Sturtagaard growled.

  “I need to know who helped her,” Annie said. “We need to go.” Annie placed a collar around Amelie’s ankle. The light blinked and beeped softly. If Amelie noticed the new hardware, she didn’t react.

  After putting a secure ankle bracelet on Amelie, Annie snapped one side of a pair of handcuffs to the vampire and the other to herself. When she was finished, she yanked the vampire to her feet.

  “You can’t escape this time.” Annie’s smile was wan; she was exhausted as she pulled on the handcuffs. “You do have use. Good for you, vampire,” she whispered to Sturtagaard, and they exited through the drug den.

  *

  Amelie slumped against the outside wall. She shook from exhaustion from the loss of blood, from the sun that beat down on her vampire skin. The bandage across her belly was saturated with blood.

  She growled softly but scared no one as she slipped to the ground.

  “You sure about this?” Spencer whispered. It had been a contentious trip back to the French Wizard Hall. The French wanted nothing to do with bringing Amelie to the hall, but Annie claimed to want information from her.

  It’s not a lie.

  Though they thought Annie would interrogate the vampire about her death list, Annie wanted to know who was helping the vampire.

  I might not get much.

  She observed the vampire, slumped against the wall, unable to lift her head.

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” she responded.

  They were huddled around the hidden entrance to the French Wizard Hall. The rusty door had an eerie quality. It did a good job discouraging anyone from trying to get inside. Marielle shot a spell at the speaker hidden in the rock wall and waited for the door to slide open.

  The door remained tightly locked.

&nb
sp; “What is this?” Marielle asked as she shot a second spell into the speaker. The magic did nothing.

  Annie and Spencer glanced at each other. Annie’s stomach roiled at the prospect of again using the other entrance into the hall.

  “Let me try,” Jory said and tossed his spell. “I don’t understand,” he said as he looked at his hands.

  Marielle placed a call to security.

  “Yes, we can’t get in. Yes, I know the spell to use. We all tried,” she pleaded into the phone. “Yes, of course.” She hung up.

  “No one is allowed in through this back entrance. Only through the Eiffel Tower.”

  “Why? This is the safest entrance to use. The other’s in the open,” Annie said incredulously.

  She glanced at the princess, whose eyes had rolled inside her head. Dark purple circles lined the vampire’s eyes. Her skin, so white, was devoid of any color of health or warmth; she most certainly was slipping into the zombie state. There seemed to be no recognition on the part of the vampire when she looked at Annie.

  “I don’t know. But this is the order. We must go back to the tower.” Marielle watched the princess.

  “I need to get her inside.” Annie pointed to the vampire, whose head fell backwards hitting the stone wall. “Why can’t you get inside and let us in from here? What’s the point of making us go through the front entrance?”

  “If you would just stake her, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and security would let us in. Now we must leave for the other entrance!” Marielle shouted back.

  “If you had any idea of what you were doing, this wouldn’t be a problem. Now I have to drag her through…” Annie stopped when Spencer squeezed her shoulder.

  Hearing the ramblings, Amelie rolled her head forward. Her eyes stopped on Marielle and registered familiarity, but only for a moment.

  “Help me disguise her or leave me alone! We need to find out what Amelie has done!” Though Annie’s voice was calm, she was seething. Her hands shook as she summoned her field pack and rummaged for anything that could hide the princess.

  “Here,” Spencer said, handing her sunglasses.

  It’s a start.

  Annie placed them on her head, found a scarf in her bag, and wrapped it around her neck. She slipped off her jacket and pulled the vampire’s arms through the sleeves.

  A hand tapped her shoulder. Marielle handed Annie a wide-brimmed hat.

  What’s that for? Annie wondered why Marielle carried such a hat with her, but she ignored her own question and placed the hat on her head, hiding her face well.

  “Okay, Amelie. It’s time to go,” Annie said as she snapped the handcuffs back on and hoisted her up.

  The princess was no more than dead weight. She slumped against Annie, covering her in blood.

  “I can’t go into the crowd like this!” Annie groaned. Her arm, though healed, was easily fatigued and shook as it held the vampire. She slipped to her knees before Spencer pulled the creature up. Amelie’s head rolled backwards, and she squinted in the sun.

  “Annie, listen. We need to get back inside. Teleport to the building across from the tower. There’s a courtyard behind the building. It’s our designated safety location. Get there first, and we’ll get inside,” Jory said. He took hold of Annie’s shoulders and held her tightly. “We’ll get inside, just get to the courtyard.”

  Annie wrapped her arms around the vampire, closed her eyes, and pictured the building he spoke of. For a moment, she trusted him as her body floated upwards, leaving the safety of the field. She opened her eyes when she felt the solid earth beneath her feet. She fell with the vampire to the ground.

  It didn’t take long for another pop of air to burst out around her.

  “Okay,” Jory said. “Annie, you and Sturtagaard take Amelie. Spencer and Marielle will leave first to clear your way. You and Sturtagaard make your way inside as quickly as you can. Roland and I will stay outside and clean up what we can, should it get out of hand.”

  Jory peered through a window to the street on the other side. “Go through that door to the sidewalk and across the park to the tower. It looks like a normal day. Be careful. I fear something is not right at the hall.”

  Spencer and Marielle stepped into the dark, empty building, exited onto the busy street, and strolled toward the Eiffel Tower on the other side of the park.

  Annie watched with a sense of anxiety as she stood without her partner, alone in Paris with two vampires and two members of a foreign team.

  I have no choice.

  She and Sturtagaard held up the disguised princess and dragged her through the door and down to the park.

  Annie’s heart raced as she picked up the pace, eager to be in the safety of the Wizard Hall. Sturtagaard walked with confident, easy strides; the princess allowed herself to be dragged.

  “Come on, princess, start walking,” Annie growled. The vampire only stumbled across the pavement.

  “This was a big mistake,” Sturtagaard derided.

  “Too late now,” Annie said.

  They were an odd grouping as they were sucked into the crowd. Annie was aware of the stares and mumblings that followed them.

  Annie’s eyes darted across the crowd, spying Spencer and Marielle sweeping the crowd. Their palms gently waved as they jinxed the crowd. Tourists scattered from the line for other locations around the city.

  Do they ever wonder why they changed their minds?

  “We need to get inside,” Annie whispered.

  She pulled the princess up until her feet dangled in the air. Sturtagaard’s long strides grew wider. It took all Annie had to keep up with him; she was nearly dragged through the crowd. No longer incognito, they ran for the elevators, dodging clusters of people in their way.

  “No,” Amelie murmured.

  A police officer followed closely.

  Jory and Roland spotted the officer and followed him closely until they were parallel to him. He was squat and short and his strides were quick, but Jory and Roland easily matched his stride. When he picked up his stride, Jory and Roland did as well. The three were heading directly toward the crowd waiting for the elevator—another odd sight to ogle.

  Annie, Sturtagaard, and the princess entered the fences around the Eiffel Tower.

  Knowing the group had been spotted, Spencer and Marielle increased their pace through the perimeter of the crowd, pushing it away. A jinx slipped from Marielle’s palm, hitting a lamp post. Magical energy ricocheted off of the metal and flew across the street, shattering a store window.

  Fearful nonmagicals shouted and screamed, unsure what was going on and what to do about it. They acted as though it might have been a terrorist attack. The crowd ran in circles or ran from the Eiffel Tower, stretching outward.

  The police officer continued running, and yet he couldn’t shake Jory and Roland. They waved a palm at him, slowing his speed as if he were running through the water.

  The elevator’s bell dinged as it neared the ground. Annie glanced at Sturtagaard, and he pulled the princess up. She growled.

  Almost there!

  Marielle cast a spell parting the rest of the crowd as the elevator landed and the doors slid open. Annie and Sturtagaard lunged inside the elevator, followed by the rest of the team; the doors squeaked and slammed shut as the police officer reached the door.

  He watched as the princess slumped against Sturtagaard and slid to the ground and saw that Annie’s shirt and hands were covered in blood. He watched in horror as Jory cast the jinx into the magical box, and the elevator cage flew down the shaft to the French Wizard Hall.

  Chapter 25

  Fabien, usually gentle and structured, burned hot and red with anger when he realized the wizard guards had not staked Amelie when they caught her. Annie roughly dumped the princess into the jail cell and sneered as the cell door slammed shut, locking both the vampires inside.

  “Please leave us alone for a moment,” Annie said to Fabien. He scowled and slammed the door shut. Annie started sl
ightly at the sound before turning her attention to Sturtagaard, who wore a mildly amused grin. The tension between Wizard Guard units was rising.

  Annie cleared her throat and wiggled her finger for him to come to the cell door.

  “You’re not done yet,” she whispered and glanced at the princess, sprawled on the floor. Her head rolled as if it were too heavy for her thin neck to support.

  There can’t be any blood left.

  Annie sighed. “I want names. Most importantly, who’s helping her?”

  When Sturtagaard saluted her, she rolled her eyes and left him in the vampire wing. Angry, she stomped down the hall so that her heavy footsteps echoed off the walls.

  I hope they hear me!

  Annie stepped out of the prison wing.

  “What the hell was that?” Fabien shouted from the shadows beside the door.

  Her quick strides left him behind, and he had difficulty catching up with her. Tired and angry, she was no longer willing to be bound by protocol.

  I’m in charge now.

  Annie knew the team would be descending on them soon. She no longer cared about doing it the right way.

  “You don’t just stake the vampire because it’s convenient. I want to know who else she killed before we do. There’s a lot of clean up, or hadn’t you noticed?” Annie, always practical, tried very hard not to let her emotions run free while at work. But now, after all they had experienced in France, she was finding it difficult to keep her anger from dripping out.

  Right now she didn’t care.

  “This is not how we do it here! I cannot have this!” Fabien argued.

  “Well, if you had been able to assist us, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I need to resolve this, with or without your help.”

  Flushed, Annie entered the Wizard Guard department. Her eyes widened when she saw her entire team—Cham, Lial, Gibbs, Shiff, and Brite—waiting for her, joined by Phillipe and Marcus. She couldn’t help but notice the French Wizard Guard standing in awe, fear, or confusion that was most likely caused by the outburst.

  “You found her,” Cham noted with a relieved smile.