Shadowstrut

by Orlando A. Sanchez

 

  “Your powers of observation are off the charts, Izzy.”

 

  She hated the nickname. Which was why I used it.

  “We have to stop that thing,” I said. “Fluffy created it, and we have to undo it. Can you handle it?”

 

  “I’ll explain later,” I said, whispering ancient words under my breath. The pain ratcheted up slowly, gripped me by the base of the neck, and hovered around anesthesia-free root-canal level.

 

  It was the right question. The only way to deal with the rummogre was to give Darkspirit free reign, unleashing its power. It wasn’t as bad as casting dark spells of world-ending destruction, but it would raise some eyebrows, especially among the resident mages.

  And it would hurt.

  This kind of magic didn’t do subtle well. I looked around, and noticed zero of those mages in my immediate vicinity, which was exactly how many fucks I possessed to give, if they got their panties in a bunch.

  The rummogre turned and narrowed its eyes, noticing me. Its movements weren’t the erratic, random jerks of the smaller rummers. This thing was moving slowly, methodically, with purpose. Its eyes held intelligence, and that intelligence was hungry.

  “I’m going to eat you, little wizard,” it said, its gravelly voice carrying throughout the Terrace. Part of my brain was still contemplating the ‘run to the Beast, and drive away’ option. “Right after I rip off your arms and legs.”

  I had to remember to give Fluffy an extra stab for this evening’s entertainment.

  “That’s just uncalled for,” I said, holding my ground as it thumped its way to me. “Dark mages will give you indigestion, so you don’t want to eat me. I’m sure a light mage will be along at some point. He’d be much tastier than me.”

  I unleashed Darkspirit.

  Black tendrils of energy erupted from a muffled explosion of dark energy.

 

  The tendrils felt alive, and I realized these were extensions of the runic filaments that connected me to my psycho sword.

  “I’m going to kill you,” the rummogre said with a growl, pounding the ground with a massive fist.

  My body screamed as the pain gripped me. The rational part of my brain shook its head, packed its bags, and walked away, waving. That left the primal, feral, and pissed-off part of me.

  I smiled as the rummogre closed.

  “You first,” I said as I ran at the monster.

  SEVEN

  Ogres were slow-moving freight trains of violence.

  Rummogres were not slow. In fact, they were surprisingly fast. This lesson came to me courtesy of the huge, fast-moving fist that launched me into a nearby wall, cracking the brick.

  My duster absorbed and dampened most of the blow, which meant my spine remained intact, allowing me to roll away from the second blow that cratered the same wall.

  Black tendrils shot forward from Darkspirit, burying themselves in the rummogre’s body. I didn’t bother with Fatebringer, and went in with the cutting immediately. I stepped inside its stance and slashed down behind the knee.

  It screamed in anger and agony, burying an elbow in my side with a fantastic precision that my ribs didn’t appreciate. I slid back several feet from the blow.

  I gestured, forming an orb of black energy. It crackled with excess power radiating around it. I caught my breath, and released the orb as my vision went slightly out of focus.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “Not now. Please, not now.”

  It lunged for me, attempting a bear hug that would have ended my days of walking upright, or walking…period.

  I slashed across its arms as the orb impacted its chest. It looked down to where the orb had hit, and then back up at me. A sick, malicious smile spread across its lips.

  “Looks like the wizard has run out of power,” it said.

  “I’m not taking it personally, but not everyone who uses magic is a wizard, you know,” I corrected. “There are some very accomplished mages in this city.”

  “Mage or wizard,” it said with a growl, “your little spells can’t hurt me.”

  “I’m not looking to hurt you,” I said with a gasp, as the pain decided this was a good time to introduce itself anew. “I’m looking to end you.”

  I threw Darkspirit. The rummogre caught it with a grin.

  “And now you’ve given me your weapon,” the rummogre said with a laugh. The intelligence exhibited by this monster was disturbing. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

  I whispered, and Darkspirit reverted to black mist, surrounding the creature. The rummogre looked around, surprised.

  “I didn’t give it to you,” I said with a final gesture. “I gave you to it.”

  The mist swirled around the rummogre, as black tendrils erupted from its body. The orb that had hit it earlier exploded outward. The black mist was actually composed of small blades that cut through the air…and the rummogre.

  I staggered back to the steps, and fell to one knee as the rummogre’s screams filled the night. In seconds, it was gone. I outstretched a hand, and Darkspirit flowed back into my body.

  “If you feed me that tainted energy,” I said, gritting my teeth against the pain of casting, “I’ll make sure your next residence is a glass case in some dusty museum no one ever visits.”

 

  “Glad I could provide you with a meal,” I said, making my way to the Beast. “Whoever or whatever made that thing is still out there. I need help.”

 

  “Yes, besides you,” I snapped. “Not everything is solved by cutting it down to small, unrecognizable pieces.”

 

  EIGHT

  I placed my hand on the Beast, and it unlocked with a metallic clang. An orange wave of energy raced across its chassis. I opened the heavy door, stumbled inside, and sat in the driver’s seat for a few seconds, gathering my breath.

  Who or what could create a rummogre? I needed answers, but first I had to make sure Street was safe.

  I made the call to Haven.

  “Director DeMarco,” Roxanne said after two rings.

  “Hey, Rox,” I said with a grunt, as I placed my hand on the dashboard panel, starting the Beast with a roar of the engine. “How’s Street?”

  “Was that you I sensed earlier, Grey?”

  “What are you talking about?” I feigned innocence. “Earlier when?”

  Roxanne DeMarco was the director of Haven, one of the largest medical facilities in the city. They treated both normals and supernaturals, and they contained the strongest supernatural detention area on the Eastern seaboard.

  Aside from being an excellent director, Rox was also one of the most powerful sorceresses I knew. Getting on her bad side usually meant I spent a few days ‘under observation’ in one of her null rooms.

  Considering where I was, the fact that she could sense my activity meant I was going to get calls from other not-so-friendly mages in the near future.

  “You can’t lie to save your life,” Rox answered. “Don’t bother denying it. You act like I wouldn’t know your signature. Besides, your apprentice told me where you were. Two plus two equals one stubborn Night Warden.”

  Shit, I should’ve remembered Koda would tell her about the park. I was so focused on Street, I’d completely forgotten.

  “She’s not an apprentice,” I said. “Is Street okay?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Rox said with a sigh. “He’s jumpier than usual. What was out there, Grey?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, driving out of the park. “There were plenty of ru
mmers, but there was something else—something that controlled them.”

  “Controlled them?” she asked, and I could hear the concern. “How is that possible? Once they turn, they’re mindless beasts with only one urge…to feed.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, leaving out the rummogre. “Seems I was wrong. Can you ask Mr. Tea & Crumpets if he’s picked up on anything odd in the city lately?”

  “His name is Tristan, and I guess I can ask,” she said, sighing deeply. She added, “Have you two spoken since…?”

  “No,” I answered quickly. “And I intend to keep it that way. He knows I’m dark. I know he knows, and he knows I have the sword. Not much else to say.”

  “Grey…”

  “What?” I asked. “I told him if I go ‘full dark mage, take-over-the-world-mental,’ he’d better make sure to put me down.”

  “That’s not the answer.”

  “It is for me,” I said. “I’d do the same for him—and he knows it.”

  “I sensed a strange energy signature in the park,” Rox said, after a pause. “It was a rummer, but it wasn’t. It was immense. Then…it was gone.”

  “Could be the entity that controlled the rummers,” I answered, keeping my voice even. “I never got to see Fluffy, but it was there in the dark.”

  “Fluffy? What’s a fluffy?”

  “It’s what I called whatever was out there,” I said. “It was a little shy about sharing its name.”

  “And you named it Fluffy?”

  “Seemed appropriate at the time.”

  I still avoided mentioning the rummogre. If I shared that information, she’d shift into full-blown ‘Sorceress Mom’ mode, and order me off the streets for the night. Normally I would ignore her, but she had the power to back up the threats she made. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where fighting her turned out well for either of us.

  “I gave Street a sedative, and I placed him in stasis,” she said. “He should be back to normal in the morning.”

  “Street doesn’t do normal,” I said, with a tight smile. “Where’s Koda?”

  “She’s downstairs in the cafeteria,” Rox said. “Do you feed that child? I swear she ate her own weight in food.”

  I nodded. “She has a fast metabolism. Tell her—” Another call interrupted my conversation with a specific tone—The Dive. “One sec, Rox. Cole is calling.”

  I put it through.

  “Speak,” I said.

  “Grey, you need to get down here…now,” Cole said. “You have a guest.”

  “What kind of guest?”

  “The kind that wears black suits, looks average, and belongs to some unknown government agency.”

  “Shit, I’m on my way.”

  I reconnected to Rox.

  “How bad is it?” Rox asked. “Cole never calls unless it’s urgent.”

  “Government agent in The Dive,” I said. “I don’t recall bumping into any agents recently.”

  “Did he say which agency?”

  “Are there any good ones when it comes to me?”

  “Point taken,” Rox said. “Don’t piss them off, Grey. Do you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” I said. “Do I look like I would start trouble with the government?”

  “Do I really need to answer that?”

  “Tell Koda I’ll meet her at The Dive after she finishes stuffing her face.”

  I stepped on the accelerator, and let the Beast tear down the street.

  NINE

  I arrived at The Dive twenty minutes later.

  On the way downtown, I’d managed to catalog at least three agencies that would want to have ‘a word’ with me due to my recent activities. I heard the engine of the Shroud approach as I locked the Beast. I looked down the street, but didn’t see Koda.

  She had managed to somehow activate the camouflage while riding the bike, something I had never managed to pull off. Her abilities were off-the-charts scary most of the time, and full-blown frightening every other moment.

  One day, I’d have her look at the runes on the Beast and see if she could undo them. If she did, we could find a way to destroy it. Not that I was in any hurry, but I recognized the danger presented by the Beast. Even I had a healthy respect for it, and for some reason it liked me enough not to try to kill me.

  Koda materialized a few seconds later. The fact that she was a runic cipher, and could ride the Shroud camouflaged, meant she could effectively disappear, and neutralize any tracking tech or spell. She could be next to a target without giving away her location. Like I said, off-the-charts scary.

  “A bus is going to squash you if you keep doing that,” I said as she locked the Shroud. “They can’t see or sense you.”

  “Just the way I like it,” she said, adjusting her rune-covered leathers and removing her kinetics. “I’m practicing stealth running Dead Sexy.”

  “Dead Sexy? Is that the state you’re going for, weaving in and out of traffic? Squashed but good-looking?”

  “Dead Sexy is the new name of the bike and my boots. Both make me look…?

  “Dead Sexy?”

  “Exactly,” she said with a nod.

  “Until a car cuts you off, then it’s just dead,” I said, shaking my head. “At the very least, let them see your lights.”

  “Defeats the purpose of stealth running,” she said. “What went down at the park? You had Roxanne using some of her choicer curses. I swear, she seemed about five minutes away from heading to the park herself.”

  “Later,” I said, pressing the runes on the door to deactivate the defenses. “We have a serious issue to deal with.”

  “Connected to Redrum?”

  “I really hope not,” I answered, stepping into The Dive. “If it is, we are in deeper shit than I imagined.”

  She stepped in behind me and closed the door.

  The Dive attracted a specific kind of clientele, and had recently become a de facto neutral zone for the supernatural community. As large as the Dark Council was, there were plenty of supernaturals and magic-users who preferred not to be associated with them.

  The building was located in what was once called Alphabet City, on 4th Street between Avenue C and D. The neighborhood had changed recently into a cross between upscale and pretentious, with transplants coming in from other parts of the city and buying property to add a new flavor to Lower Manhattan.

  It wasn’t working out well. Either that, or I was becoming the old man of the neighborhood, and would soon find myself screaming at people to pick up their trash and stay off his property.

  I owned The Dive and used it as my informal base of operations.

  Mostly, it served as a supernatural bar. Think Cheers, but where nobody wanted to know your name, nor really cared. Most of the patrons went out of their way to avoid giving that kind of information. I didn’t ask, they didn’t share. Everyone was happy.

  The Dive always tasted like bitter honey to me, the ambient magic a mix of minor traps and lethal failsafes. Today, the light scent of cinnamon joined the mix. I had a small apartment upstairs, and enough runes to fry any magic-user thinking of casting inside its walls.

  It also had a state-of-the-art security system to make sure we had all the bases covered. If you wanted to unleash mayhem inside its walls, you’d find ample amounts of pain waiting to convince you otherwise.

  There was only one rule in The Dive: Drink in peace, or leave in pieces. Frank, the resident mage lizard, made sure the rule was enforced. The Dive’s security was three layers deep. Runes for supernaturals, tech for normals, and when everything else went to hell, Frank. Of the three, Frank was the most dangerous, and the most volatile.

  TEN

  “You have a guest,” Cole said from behind the bar. He indicated to the corner with a look. “Says he needs to speak to you.”

  Frank flicked his tail on the counter, causing electric sparks to fly everywhere. I leaned up against the bar and grabbed one of the rune-covered rags, tossing it on the small flames that resul
ted from Frank’s agitations.

  “What did you do now, and how pissed-off are they?” Frank asked, glaring at me. “This guy is screaming government suit.”

  “I didn’t do anything, at least nothing I’ll admit to,” I said. “I don’t know who he is, or who he represents.”

  “I need a shower,” Koda said, heading to the stairs. “Haven always makes me feel like I caught something, every time I visit.”

  “It’s too bad you can’t wash off that severe case of PITA,” Frank said, scurrying to the other end of the bar as Koda glared. “If only there were a cure for obnoxious, arrogant, unemployed cleaners…. A shame.”

  “Did anyone hear that squeaking?” Koda asked, putting a hand to her ear while looking around. “It sounded like a mage with phenomenal cosmic power residing in an itty-bitty lizard.”

  “Dragon! Dragon! Not lizard. I don’t do that tongue thing,” Frank yelled, flicking his tongue. “Get it straight, Lockpick.”

  Koda returned a one-finger salute as she climbed the stairs.

  “It’s good to see you two bonding,” I said, rubbing my temple against the low-level pain. “Now I know why my head hurts all the time.”

  “That’s easy,” Frank snapped. “Little brain, excess room. It keeps bouncing around in there, giving you mini-concussions.”

  “And here I thought it was my condition. Maybe we should rename this place, The Migraine?”

  “You brought that on yourself. I told you to leave the Lockpick to Hades.”

  “Oh, you think she’s the only cause of my aggravation?”

  “Of course,” Frank answered. “I know it’s not me. I’m the definition of decorum.”

  Frank spat on the bar, causing another small bonfire. I threw a rag on it, dousing the flames as the rag glowed orange.

  “That…is a nasty habit, lizard.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “He said it was urgent,” Cole said, interrupting the start of our skirmish without looking at us. He was underneath the bar, fixing some of the bottles and putting some of our recent inventory away. He glanced up and stood with a grunt. “By the way, you look like hell.”