Afterworld (The Orion Rezner Chronicles Book 1) (13 page)

Nothing happened.

Gun in right hand, wand in left, I focused on the figures lurking close to my side of the building. Even from this distance, I could see them suddenly clasp their throats.

He’s taken all the air out of the room.

In their panic, all seven attacked. I ducked low and shot as a wizard flew across the courtyard at me, hitting him in the thigh. He went down with a soundless howl. A witch leapt over the balcony and disappeared below. Beside me, Maximillian thrust his hands toward his opponents, blasting them with energy that sent them flying. The next wizard I faced raised his wand, but I was faster on the draw.

Unfortunately, though, the end of the wand just flashed and fizzled.

Shit! No air, no fire.

The wizard smiled, despite his reddening face, and hit me with a levitation spell that sent me flying toward the skylight.

In my surprise I let out all my air. I tried to breathe and started to panic, preparing for my back to smash through the skylight. Suddenly a force gripped me and held me still. I floated like a spaceman as Maximillian, with the agility of a twenty-year-old, used his staff to pole-vault over the balcony. He flew twenty feet to land on the stone floor at the center of the gardens. In a flash, he disarmed and put to sleep one of the witches.

Another of the wizards blasted a wind spell that filled the room with air once again. Invigorated, he lifted his spell book and began casting on the elder wizard.

Maximillian leapt and spun, ducked and dodged the barrage. He came up under the wizard’s slashing wand and laid him out with his staff.

One of the witches, a woman in her twenties whom I recognized, ran straight at the old wizard and leapt over him. He swiped at her with his staff, but she was too high. As she rotated over him in a flip, she blew down sparkling dust at him. Another wizard cast a whirlwind on the multicolored dust as it glittered down, and Maximillian dove to the side as it began to chase him.

I had to do something but was still stuck floating over the gardens, unseen by all but the wizard I’d shot in the leg. He’d finally caught his breath and was beginning to chant a spell.

I lifted my wand once again. I didn’t have time to recite something from my spell book, but I formulated a simple push spell, shot a couple rounds to disrupt his casting, and then cast the spell to pin his wand to the floor. Apparently I pushed too hard because I went flying up and slammed into the ceiling.

Just then, the spell which held me aloft died out and I dropped like a rock. I quickly improvised a wind spell to slow my descent—but once again my control was lacking. The spell shot out of my wand and sent me spinning through the air like a deflating balloon. I landed on top of one of the wizards and we crashed to the ground, rolling around, grappling over our wands and trying to point them at each other’s head. I knew this wizard—Thomas Merlot. He was in my graduating class at Harvard Wizardry.

“Thomas, it’s me, Orion Rezner. Snap out of it!”

His only response was to growl and twist my own wand around at me. He rolled on top and uttered the first word of a spell, but dropped as Maximillian’s staff took him upside the head.

The elder master ran past me and shot a spell at the dust trailing him. The whirlwind stopped dead, and the twinkling dust fell down upon the gardens lazily, wilting and killing the plants it came in contact with.

Maximillian and I held our ground as the remaining witch and two wizards circled us. All three of them shot spells at us simultaneously. Maximillian raised a stopping hand and the spells exploded against an invisible barrier. The eldermaster wasted no time and unleashed a blast of lightning which illuminated the gardens and almost blinded me. I braced myself and shot a wind spell toward the closest wizard, but he leapt out of the way and my little whirlwind only tore up vegetation. He dove and came up fast, hitting me with a shockwave that sent me flying through the air.

“Do not injure the host!” the witch yelled.

Spells zipped across the gardens as I lay stunned. Maximillian gave out a sharp cry of pain as a witch’s cackle echoed all around. One of the wizards came to stand over me. He stared down with a satisfied smile and reached a red, glowing hand toward my forehead. I was helpless to defend myself. I couldn’t talk, let alone cast a spell, but the wizard suddenly flew forward—to the tell-tale sound of an exaggerated Bruce Lee battle cry.

Johnny Mushiro smiled down on me.

“Mushi, watch out!” I yelled.

A spell hurtled down on him from one of the balconies. As he leapt out of the way, I rolled to the side. The plants I had been lying on erupted in a spray of dirt that rose high enough to hit the skylight. As I came out of the roll I fired three rounds at the wizard on the balcony. He doubled over and fell into the foliage below.

I jumped up and whirled around.

All had become silent.

Maximillian stood at the center of the garden, a witch and wizard unconscious at his feet. He raised his wand and sent a spell, out through the frosted glass. It erupted in the sky above—a call to the Boston Militia.

M
ushi and I collected the wizards and witches and brought them to Maximillian to detain. He cast a binding spell as we positioned them in the center of the gardens.

In the distance, the Boston Militia sirens screamed.

I went and found the wizard I’d shot off the balcony lying awkwardly upon a bed of trampled orchids. There was no need to check for a pulse—one of my three shots had taken him in the forehead.

“Marshal Kingston,” said Mushi, from behind me.

I was in shock. “I killed him…I didn’t mean to.”

“He was dead the moment he made a deal with Azazel,” said Maximillian. He came to stand beside me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “This is a much kinder fate than what awaited him under the demon.”

He and Mushiro went about collecting the remaining traitors, leaving me to stare into the eyes of the dead man. When I joined the Order of Franklin, I was told that my duties as a wizard would entail killing, but I had always assumed that meant killing monsters. I took no joy in killing the Cain during the flight from Crystal Lake, but at least they had been evil men. Marshal Kingston was a good guy, from what I knew of him. He didn’t deserve this. I imagined all the days of his life leading up to this event…years full of laughter and tears, sorrow and joy—a life which ended at my hand. Knowing that I acted in self-defense and had likely saved Mushiro’s life gave me little solace. I bent down and closed Marshal’s eyes forever.

The Boston Militia arrived in droves. Apparently the call to arms of an elder wizard is taken seriously. Within minutes, dozens of men and women were securing the building. Among them were regular soldiers, but also wizards and witches who went about muttering incantations or casting other spells.

A paramedic ushered Mushi and I outside, to the back of one of the few ambulances in use by the BM. I assured him that I was all right, but he insisted on giving me a look-over.

A woman wearing the robes of an elder witch approached Mushi and I. She had dark skin and dreadlocks that flared out from her head like the snakes of Medusa. Raising a crystal before us, she mumbled in a language I didn’t recognize. After making a quick pass over Mushiro, she stopped and lingered on me.

“You’ve a curse on you. Hold still now,” she said.

A tingling sensation washed over me as she lifted the curse.

“What was it?” I asked.

“Strange…you were cursed with a hex to make you susceptible to persuasion.”

“Persuasion…did you lift it?”

“Yes.” She moved the crystal over me once again and finally pocketed it.

I thanked her and she moved to inspect Maximillian. When she was through with him, he came over to me, eyeing the two bodies being loaded into a van. He must have inadvertently killed the other one. The rest of them were being taken away in an armored truck.

“What will happen to them?” I asked.

He leaned in quietly. “They will be exorcised, if possible. For now you must focus on your report. You came here at my request. Unbeknownst to you, I was using you as bait to flush out this group. Say nothing of the children of the Cain…I’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, Elder Wizard.”

“And Rezner…” he said, turning back to me, “your suspension is hereby reinstated.”

After an hour of making our reports and talking with the fine ladies and gentlemen of the Boston Militia, Mushi and I drove back to my apartment. I filled him in on what had happened, and checked my pocket watch when we arrived—1:30 a.m. I hadn’t slept for more than twenty-four hours, and the fight at the museum had drained me pretty bad. I was tired, but I dared not sleep. Azazel would be waiting.

“What’s on your mind, Rez?”

I remained on my scooter, considering my stoop. I had to find a way not to sleep.

“You know where I might find Melody?”

Mushi made a
how the hell should I know
face. “Beats me, man. Try Fracco’s.”

It was a start. “C’mon. You up for a beer?” I asked him.

He laughed. “Always ready for beer, Roundeye.”

We cruised over to Fracco’s and parked. I scanned the bar quickly as we walked in but didn’t see Melody.

Fracco nodded to us. “Wizards, what’ll it be tonight?”

I glanced at Mushi and his shrug told me it was my call.

“Double shots of whiskey,” I said, “and an IPA to wash ’em down.”

Fracco leaned in. “I seen women drive plenty of men to drink—what’s her name?”

“Death,” I told him.

Fracco gauged my sincerity and looked to my friend.

Mushi raised a serious eyebrow.

“Sounds like a real bitch,” said Fracco. “Beer’s on the house.”

He turned to get our drinks.

I nudged Mushi. “No Melody.”

“We can ask ’round. There are other witches here, you know. We can ask one of them to give you no-sleep curse.”

“No...” I shook my head as I eyed the witches he spoke of. They were playing a game of pool with a few BM thugs, and had either laid an enchantment on them or the guys hadn’t been laid in months. The way they so obviously drooled over the ladies made my eyes roll. I’ve never understood why men so quickly toss dignity aside in the pursuit of ass. I mean, don’t get me wrong, ass is great and all, but this was like a scene from
Animal Planet
.

“No,” I said again, “I don’t know any of them.”

“You don’t know Melody either.”

“I know she stayed behind with us at Crystal Lake—that’s enough for me.”

Fracco placed the drinks on the bar. “Here we are, boys.”

I told him to put it on my tab, and he nodded and scribbled in a ledger from his back pocket. When he finished he leaned in a little close and said, “I wasn’t eavesdropping but…sound carries to this side of the bar for some reason. Anyway, Melody was here an hour ago. Had a beer, looked bored. Said she was going to do some research.”

“She say where?” I asked.

He shrugged and began wiping down the bar.

“Thanks, Fracco.”

We tossed back our shots and pounded our beers.

By two fifteen we were parked outside the library. Old Ben sat upon the steps, looking up at the stars. I stopped before him and stared. He didn’t seem to notice, but Mushi turned to regard me.

“Gimme a minute,” I said.

He shrugged and went inside.

“What it is, Ben?”

Old Ben was startled. He looked as if he didn’t know me and turned back to the sky. I took a seat beside him. “What can you tell me about Eldermaster Maximillian Snelbecker?”

He smiled, even laughed to himself. “There is a difference between imitating a good man and counterfeiting him,” Ben quoted himself.

“Are you saying he’s a good man?”

Ben nodded.

“Where have you been? You
know
I got Azazel on my ass?
The
corruptor of mankind?”

Ben turned his gaze to the sky once more. “What makes resisting temptation difficult for many people is that they don’t want to discourage it completely.”

“Gee, that’s great, Ben, but I got a serious problem here.”

He regarded me with a withering glare.

“You know I really wish you could just speak without this riddle-past-quote shit.”

He shook his head slowly as he gazed through the spell shield at the stars. I had a feeling he knew more than he was saying. He had shown quite an aversion to the demon at the Marks’s residence. At first I had thought it was because he was a ghost and naturally feared such a supernatural foe, but now I had my doubts it wasn’t something deeper.

“What are you not telling me?”

He looked to me with a yearning to speak plainly. “There is a difference between imitating a good man and counterfeiting him,” he said again.

I too looked at the sky. “Well again, Ben, thank you for your—”

He was already gone.

I entered the library and found Mushi sitting at the far end with Melody.

“Mush told me all about it,” she said when I walked up, looking concerned.

“
Mush
?” I said.

He winked. “That’s what she calls me.”

“Sounds like you’re part of a dogsled team.”

“Yeah? And Mushi sounds soggy,” she retorted.

“Christ almighty. Who gives a shit, you guys?” said Johnny.

I sat down and leaned in as Mrs. Greene offered our table a disapproving glare. “Melody, can you curse me not to sleep?”

“Uh, why?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Yeah? And it’s a powerful curse—it could kill you.”

“So could sleeping.”

She searched my eyes. “Does this have something to do with Azazel?”

“Something like that.”

She considered for a moment. “A curse like that is too dangerous.”

“What about a potion? Something that’ll keep me up. You witches got a Red Bull spell?”

“Oh man, Red Bull…I forgot about that stuff,” said Mushi.

“Yeah, good stuff. Mix it with vodka and you either end up naked or fighting,” I said.

“Or fighting naked.” Melody laughed.

“Exactly!” said Mushi.

Mrs. Greene gave us an exaggerated shush—though there was no one else in the library.

“I’ve never made an insomnia potion,” said Melody, quietly.

“Can you?”

She gave me a flat stare. “Of course I can. I just have to do a bit of research and gather the materials if I don’t have them at home.”

“Great!” I got up. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” She looked at her watch.

“If you would. I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours. I can go longer, but it won’t be pretty.”

She rose with a sigh. “All right, let’s go see what I have at home.”

“Been a long night…” Mushi stretched his arms and yawned. “You kids go on, I’m going home.” He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes when Melody glanced my way.

Mushi’s smirk grew.

“All right,
Mush
, see you tomorrow,” I said.

“Yeah, bro. Be ’round about noon.”

“If I’m not home, I’ll probably be at Trinity,” I added.

“Later, Mush,” said Melody.

We hopped on my scooter and buzzed to her place at a cool ten miles per hour. The weather remained warm, and the star-filled sky still shone beyond the spell shield. I was surprised that Melody wasn’t afraid of being around me, given that I had just been attacked. Maybe it hadn’t occurred to her that they would attack again.

“So when did Ben Franklin’s ghost first come to you?” she asked.

“He started appearing to me a few years back.”

“You know you sound like a nut job when you say that?”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

“So…what does he say?” she asked.

“He tells me how to lure them away from public places…and where to put the bodies.”

Silence followed.

In the mirror I saw her roll her eyes—but she was smiling.

“Ooh, scary. Shut up, you dumbass,” she said. “If you were up to no good, I would have known a long time ago.” She punched my arm and added, “Asshole.”

She was still smiling though.

We pulled up to a townhouse on Cedar Street—red brick with black shutters and a gray-blue door. The place didn’t look like much from the outside. The inside was a different story. In the days before the Culling, this place could have gone for a few million. Likely, some rich douche had lived here, but now it was home to a coven of witches.

The kitchen was bustling with activity. Witches and wizards tend to be night owls. The forces we do battle against aren’t broad-daylight types. They like lurking in the shadows, baying at the moon—that kind of nocturnal creepy shit. The coven of cackling twenty-something witches stopped and stared… and I swear to Dog, the music even stopped playing.

There were four of them, all of whom looked to have just had a hair-dying contest. Their perked heads were a sea of pink, blue, green, silver, red, orange, and what have you. They couldn’t really help looking a bit Goth in their all black attire.

“Everybody, meet Orion Rezner. Orion, this is everybody,” said Melody.

I smiled. “Hello, everybody.”

One of them, a plump, freckle-faced woman with orange hair, scowled at me. “High Priestess, you said no men allowed in the house after sundown…ever. This is bat wings!” The others clucked agreement and half-hearted outrage.

Melody headed up the stairs. “He’s not a man, he’s a wizard.”

I began to laugh but caught myself. “Hey, wait a minute…”

“Fire up the cauldron—I’ve a potion to make.” She spoke to no one in particular, but beckoned me upstairs.

The stairwell had a crazy, psychedelic design on the side wall that made me want to puke, but aside from that, the interior was all whites, earthy greens, and browns. The second floor boasted the same light-brown hardwood floors—and not the laminated crap, real hardwood.