Magical Mysteries (Vegas Paranormal/Club 66 Book 2)

by C. C. Mahon

  I suppose I have to thank you for that too? I thought.

  My sword answered with a musical vibration.

  Thanks, then. I would just like to know where all this is leading.

  Having indestructible hair, I could get used to. My aura changed, but I wouldn’t have known it if Matteo hadn’t mentioned it. Using magic more easily, that was pretty neat. All that, I was sure, I owed to the sword. But nothing in life was ever free, and I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was going to demand something from me. Take a part of me. Exact its pound of flesh. I would have liked to have known the price before signing the contract, but I was in too deep to turn around now. Especially when Matteo’s and the others’ lives were in danger. With Callum back in my universe, I needed the sword. I only hoped I would be able to pay the price.

  Under my appearance of a small blonde, I left the dark alleyway and the two metamorphs.

  “I’d take a cappuccino,” said Walter at the last second.

  There was a coffee shop, several feet before the door to the building, on the opposite side of the street. A dozen people were lined up onto the street, waiting for their daily dose of sugar-filled coffee. I joined the line, bothered at having to turn my back on the building. I quickly found a window whose reflection allowed me to watch the luxury boutique in front of which Britannicus was now loitering.

  The baristas were good at their jobs, and the line moved quickly. I had to leave my vantage point and once again found myself unable to watch the building.

  I just hope the girls make it out, I thought. They were only two, facing God knew how many bodyguards, in addition to Callum. Julie was in charge of leading the conversation and keeping Callum’s attention to allow Lizzie to search for the seal. It was a magical mark, invisible to the uninitiated, that must have been somewhere on the wall. Not a partition, Britannicus had insisted, but a wall directly linked to the outside of the building.

  Lizzie had to find it then manage to touch it for the few seconds necessary to deactivate it. Brit had explained to her how to do it, given her the Guild’s usual codes, explained all the possible variations.

  This didn’t make the task any easier. And what if the Guild had updated their procedures? After all, Britannicus had slammed the door to venture off on his own; the other wizards could have taken steps to avoid this exact situation.

  “What can I get you?” asked the barista.

  I jumped. I was too nervous. I’d better lay off the caffeine.

  As if that would actually happen.

  I ordered a large coffee and Walter’s cappuccino, paid and left with a big cup in each hand.

  I resisted going towards the building with great difficulty. Instead, I went back towards the alley and the two metamorphs who were waiting there.

  Nate greeted me with a reproachful silence. Walter smelled his cappuccino and started drinking with obvious pleasure. For the needs of the mission, he had abandoned his leather biker getup in favor of everyday jeans and a black T-shirt. His arms, his neck, and his shaved head were still covered in tattoos, but he had removed all his piercings. A smart precaution, I said. No one wants to have an earring ripped out in the middle of a fight; it hurts, it’s distracting, and you probably won’t see that earring again.

  31

  “How long does it take to deactivate a spell?” grumbled Nate.

  Walter and I had finished our coffees, and I had explored every square inch of the alley where we were hiding out. My brain had laid out a string of catastrophic scenarios involving Lizzie and Julie. I had ended up taking out my sword, under Nate’s disapproving look. The contact of the weapon allowed me to maintain my mental health, or the little I had left.

  Finally, I felt my cellphone vibrate in my pocket.

  “It’s done,” said Britannicus.

  “We’re on our way. Let Lola know.”

  I hung up, my heart beating.

  “We going?” asked Walter.

  “We’re up,” I confirmed. “Wardrobe change!”

  They stood on either side of me, and I looked them over, detailing their appearances in my mind to better manipulate them.

  Nate had tied his blond hair into a ponytail. I replaced it with short dark brown hair. He was also wearing a black T-shirt and matching jeans. I transformed them into a gray suit, a white dress shirt, and a pearl gray tie. I didn’t forget the shoes: shiny black leather shoes instead of combat boots. There, my bouncer was now a respectable lawyer. I gave Walter a similar treatment, then me. I gave myself a red bun, a gray pencil skirt, and skyscraper-high stilettos. The sword I was holding in my hand, hidden in its case, transformed into a fancy briefcase. It was the most complex illusion I’d ever called up, but I was confident: my sword was providing me a generous dose of magic.

  “Let’s go.”

  I headed to the building’s front door, my two “associates” on my heels. Britannicus greeted us with a cordial smile, as if we had a business meeting.

  “The lock?” I breathed, gesturing to the double glass doors.

  Britannicus passed his hand under the lock, and it unlocked with a “click.” He took a step forward and quickly backed up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s strange. Like a strong magical current that runs through…”

  He ran his fingers a few inches from the door to the adjacent door.

  “Yes, a magical current going through the building’s walls.”

  “The protections spells are still active?” asked Nate.

  Britannicus shook his head. “No, it’s different. I think that…” He crossed the threshold, shook himself like a dog coming out of water, and turned back towards us. “All good,” he said, “we can get through. The magic is raw; no spell has given it purpose. It’s just moving around.”

  He held the door for me, and I followed him across the threshold. The magic cascaded over my head and my shoulders like a wall of fresh water. It smelled of wet dirt and musk.

  Nate and Walter came in after me. To a human onlooker, we were a group of lawyers here on business.

  “Elevator or stairs?” asked the wizard.

  “Elevator,” I said. “We stop four floors from the top and go the rest of the way on foot.”

  “We need a key for the elevator to stop at the right floor,” said Nate, pointing to the row of small locks next to the numbered floor buttons.

  “Not when you have a wizard with you,” said Britannicus.

  He brushed his fingers over the lock and pressed the button. The elevator doors closed on us. Even so, I maintained the illusion. I didn’t know who we might run into.

  The ding of the elevator seemed to chime way too loudly. The doors opened, revealing a hallway with a luxurious carpet, a receptionist desk and, further, a maze of offices with glass doors. The place was deserted. I let my illusion fade away.

  “Buddy’s got some money,” breathed Walter, “to afford keeping all this empty.”

  A door creaked behind us, and I turned around with a start. Barbie and Lola appeared, out of breath. Lola was holding her weapon in front of her. Barbie had to duck down for her wings to pass through the door.

  “You were quick,” breathed Lola.

  “Brit unlocked the elevators,” I said.

  “Cheaters!” breathed Barbie between two whistling inhalations.

  “Are we all here?” asked Lola.

  “My guys are on their way,” said Walter. “Is the coast clear?”

  Lola nodded. “We left the garage door unlocked. After that, there’s the stairs. Lots of stairs.”

  “Only two more stories,” I said.

  I took my sword out of its case and, after a moment of hesitation, put the case back on my back. The air shimmered around Nate and Walter. My ears whistled, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. A six foot five grizzly was now standing where Nate had been. Beside him, the puma must have been five foot nine in length, to which three feet of tail was added, nervously whipping the air. His coat was the co
lor of ripe wheat, his eyes golden, his ears tipped black.

  Lola whistled between her teeth.

  “Everyone ready?” I asked.

  I looked over to check that Lola had recovered from the shock of witnessing these transformations. I was pleased to see her focused again, professional.

  “I’m going first,” I said. “I’ll project an illusion to hide us. Lola, you’ll be behind me.”

  The grizzly growled softly.

  “No,” I said, “you’re not going first because you don’t know how to project an illusion and not right behind me because you can’t attack over my shoulder. Lola can fire if she sees danger.”

  The grizzly shook his head, breathed through his nostrils, and seemed to resign himself.

  I climbed the stairs in silence, projecting the image of an empty stairwell in front of me. Which it seemed to be. The next floor was the last one that had once been lawyers’ offices. The carpet was as thick as sheep’s fleece, the counter made of luxury wood, just like the doors. Bosses always liked to be above the others. Kind of like me above the club.

  The door leading to the loft had been condemned. Brit approached the door handle. A discharge of magic pushed him back, and he fell on the plush carpet. I helped him back up, all while keeping an eye on the booby-trapped door.

  “I thought the spells were deactivated,” said Lola in a furious tone.

  Britannicus approached the door again, this time with more caution. He felt the air, stuck out his tongue as if to catch a snowflake, moved his jaw as if he was tasting wine, and finally said, “It’s a different spell, just for this door.”

  “Can you open it?”

  “No.”

  “We’re not gonna let a door stop us!” exclaimed Barbie.

  “We could break the wall?” suggested Lola. “What? That’s how we cops do it.”

  Britannicus examined the walls on either side of the door and shook his head. “Booby trapped.”

  “The elevator?” suggested Barbie.

  Britannicus looked at me. I turned towards Lola, who shrugged.

  “Does someone have a shield?” she asked. “Because they’ll see us coming.”

  “I have a decent spell,” said Britannicus.

  “I can project the image of an empty elevator,” I added.

  Lola shook her head. “Empty elevators don’t just open like that.”

  “A cleaning lady then? A Jehovah’s witness?”

  Lola smiled. “Yes, those people knock on everyone’s door. But they’re normally in pairs.”

  “Let’s go with the mystical salesmen,” I said. “The real question is can we fit a grizzly, a puma, and a harpy in an elevator?”

  32

  Nate settled in the back of the elevator on all fours. Walter and Barbie perched on his back. Britannicus took his place on one side of the door, Lola on the other. I stood in the center of the elevator, closed my eyes, and began imagining the two Jehovah’s witnesses.

  I pictured two men, young. One with brown hair, the other blond, both shaved closely, hair well-kempt, suit ironed, and tight necktie. I equipped them with a big book and a bag full of pamphlets. I murmured the incantation and signaled to Britannicus. I heard the doors close and felt the elevator begin to move.

  The journey was a short one. When the elevator stopped, my heart was beating so loudly in my ears that I didn’t hear the usual “ding.” All the pores on my skin opened to expel clouds of sweat. The doors opened.

  The elevator opened directly onto a huge living room: exotic rug on the floor, several sofas as big as boats. In the very back of the room, a fire was burning in a marble chimney. Subdued lighting highlighting a tasteful darkness. And two men in suits, their weapons aimed at us.

  Or rather, at a pair of young men in white shirts, pamphlets in hand.

  “Hello,” said Britannicus. “Have you heard about our Lord and Savior?”

  I took one step forward. My illusion did the same, and the men quivered.

  “Don’t move!” shouted one of the guards.

  “How did you get in?” asked the other.

  “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” answered the illusion in Britannicus’ voice.

  The men hesitated, and Lola took advantage of it: she slipped out of the elevator to get around them. I stepped forward again, to give Walter and Barbie room to get out too. My illusion’s movement surprised one of the guards, who fired a shot. Everyone froze. Britannicus’ spell stopped the bullet in mid-air, and it fell back on the floor with a small metallic sound. I felt a puma jump over my shoulder. He landed on the guard who had shot, and they both rolled on the ground. The second guard lost a fraction of a second looking at the puma before reacting. Lola took advantage of it to get her arm around the man’s neck. Lola was small, and to reach the guard she had to get on her tippy toes. It didn’t stop her from pressing her closed fist against the man’s trachea. She even leveraged herself against the guy’s back to squeeze better. The man let off several rounds without hitting anyone. He dropped his weapon to be able to fight better. But his movements were already losing their strength and precision. He dropped one knee to the ground, then the other. Lola accompanied him to the ground. When she let him go, he was purple, but he was still breathing. The cop flipped him on his stomach, took plastic handcuffs out of her pocket, and handcuffed the man behind his back.

  The other didn’t fare so well, and when Walter was done with him, his neck was broken. I saw Lola’s face darken.

  “He shot at Jehovah’s witnesses!” I exclaimed.

  She shot me a look that I interpreted as “we’ll talk about it later.”

  Meanwhile, Barbie and Nate had pulled the bodies into the elevator. Britannicus pressed a button, and the doors closed.

  “And now?” Barb asked.

  The sound of a stampede answered her. High heels. No, hooves, I understood when I saw Enola rushing towards us. Her beautiful hair was a mess, her dress torn, her eyes widened by panic.

  “Erica, thank God!” she cried out when she saw me.

  She threw herself into Britannicus’ arms, and he backed up from the impact.

  “Help me!” exclaimed the young woman.

  Britannicus turned towards me, as if to ask what he should do with my bartender. His expression suddenly transformed, going from confusion to fear. I understood why when I spotted the thin blade that Enola had just pressed at the base of his neck.

  Britannicus held his breath.

  “Enola,” I asked. “What do you want?”

  “I already have what I want. A man who loves me. Supernatural powers. Money. Once Dimitri gets rid of you, I’ll be perfectly happy.”

  Britannicus let out a small strangled sound. Enola brought her attention back to him.

  “You, wizard, you’re going to make my master even more powerful than he already is. You’ll see, it almost doesn’t hurt.”

  My sword caught fire.

  “Let him go or I’ll burn you.”

  “And risk injuring your dear wizard in the process?”

  “What are you going to do to him?” asked Lola in a detached voice.

  She had holstered her weapon and was holding up her hands.

  “Enola won’t do anything,” declared a voice from the back of the enormous living room. “Me, on the other hand…”

  I turned towards the origin of the voice. “Callum?”

  The tone was his, the ego, the contempt. But the voice seemed different…smothered. As if he was speaking under a mask or a scarf.

  The lighting of the room was supplied by lamps placed on consoles near the elevator, and the fire burning in the marble chimney at the other end of the immense room. A shadow moved forward, too far from the lamps to be lit up by them. The silhouette was outlined in front of the chimney. It was definitely Callum—his tall stature, his wide shoulders, and his slim hips. But he was surrounded by strange appendages, like the statues of Indian goddesses. He moved towards us, slowly, the expensive rug muffling the sound of h
is steps. A shiver of disgust originated in my gut, turned my stomach, cut my breath, and squeezed my throat. My mind still didn’t understand what it was seeing, but my body already knew what it was. Somewhere to my right, Walter the puma was hissing. I felt Nate’s silent growl to my left, and my fingers met his fur. I reflexively gripped onto it.

  Lola cleared her throat and said, “The two Customs officers who were here this morning. Where are they?”

  “Ah,” said Callum, “yes. The Customs officers. Follow me.”

  He pivoted, and his multiple arms pivoted with him.

  “Move,” ordered Enola, her knife still against Britannicus’ throat.

  They proceeded to execute a strange pas de deux towards the depths of the loft. I didn’t want to follow them. Not at all. I focused on the heat of my sword in my right hand and the thickness of the fur under my left hand.

  You’re not here for you, I thought. You have to find Matteo, Kitty, and Patricia; get back Julie, Lizzie, and Britannicus. Once that’s done, you’ll have all the time in the world to listen to your fear. But until then, put your traumas back in your pocket and forget about them.

  I almost managed to convince myself and followed the others to the back of the loft and what those shadows concealed.

  33

  The living room led to a dining room where the morning sun was coming through the vast windows. The Strip extended beneath our feet and, beyond that, Vegas, a bland urban expanse interspersed with the crazy architecture of the casinos.

  If my eyes were incessantly drawn towards the windows and the landscape they revealed, it was because my mind refused to face Callum. The daylight revealed without alterations what the darkness had spared us until then.

  Callum was standing in the middle of the room. His feet were bare, covered in green scales, his toes adorned by black claws. His luxurious pants were held low on his hips by a belt because of the pair of legs coming out of his waist. They were long black and hairy legs, tipped by a kind of claw. This pair of legs, unfortunately, wasn’t the worst spectacle that Callum offered. No, the worst was that he had three other pairs that came out of his torso at regular intervals. The top pair was implanted in his shoulder blades. That might be why he kept his arms crossed over his chest covered in green scales. And then there was his eyes. Too many eyes for a human face, but I refused to look at them. My stomach would not have been able to handle it.