Kindling the Moon (41 page)

Authors: Jenn Bennett

BOOK: Kindling the Moon

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He refastened the buckle. “Holy shit! I've never been this far down underground. There'd better be an elevator. This looks like the kind of place where you get stabbed and left for dead.”

Ugh. Tell me about it. Parking here was the worst part of owning my bar, but it was better than leaving my car on the street. I once had my window broken and my car stereo stolen while parked in front of the bar. At least the garage had cameras and a guard on premises 24/7.

“If I had to choose, I guess I'd go for the Eldorado,” I said, trying to distract both of us from a homeless guy sleeping in a dark corner by one of the stairwells. “But I'm kinda doubting that a measly fifteen-thou is going to buy you one.”

“My dad knows a ton of car collectors. He'll get me a deal.”

Mmm-hmm. Sure he would. We headed down the final ramp onto the monthlies level. I spotted a tight corner space, not too far from the elevator.

“We're parking here?” Jupe asked, wiping away the fog to peer out the window. “Gross.”

“Welcome to glamorous big-city life.”

“I bet the Snatcher would have a field day down in this dump.”

“Who?”

“The Sandpiper Park Snatcher,” he repeated, as if I were the dumbest person in the world. When I shook my head in confusion, he explained. “Some kid went missing in La Sirena a couple of days ago. Everyone at school says the Snatcher's back.”

I grunted and warily glanced out the window. Leave it to me to get spooked by a teenager inside my own parking garage. “Look, you said you wanted to see my bar before it opens today â¦”

“I do, I do!” he confirmed, throwing off his seat belt.

“Then help me haul this shit out of the car and let's get going before the rain starts.”

I popped the trunk as Jupe slammed his door shut and jogged around to meet me. The restaurant supply guy had screwed up our delivery yesterday, so that meant I had to take care of this weekend's garnish par-levels by tracking down mondo-sized sacks of lemons, limes, oranges, and pineapples. Jupe and I made a quick trip to the wholesaler's warehouse before the whole credit union fiasco. Along with the citrus, I let him pick out Halloween candy both for home and the bar, so we also had enough Tootsie Rolls, Pixy Stix, and severed gummy body parts to feed an army of demons.

While we unloaded the trunk, Jupe started in again about the Snatcher. In the oceanside town where he and Lon lived, this was apparently a local urban legend. A boogeyman whom no one had ever seen. When I pressed Jupe for details, all
he could give me was a tangle of motley stories about young teenage Earthbounds who were picked off one by one at Halloween in the early '80s.

Great. That was the last thing I wanted to think about. It had been a month since Jupe had been held hostage and his arm broken. That memory sent a familiar pang of guilt through my gut. And from the worry shading his eyes right now, I guessed he wasn't all that keen on pondering the possibility of getting kidnapped again, either. Best not to talk about it.

“Smells like someone's been pissing all over the walls,” Jupe complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust as we toted the bags of fruit and candy to the elevator.

“Someone probably has. Lots of someones.” I glanced over my shoulder and scanned the dirty garage. The concrete floor shook with the dull boom of a car on the level above us driving over speed bumps. Otherwise, it was quiet. Usually was, during the daytime on weekends. “Inhale through your mouth,” I suggested. “And stay sharp.”

He followed my instruction as I stopped in front of the elevator and used a knuckle to press the cracked plastic up-arrow button. I started to ask Jupe a question but was interrupted when something hit me in the shoulder, knocking me sideways. Pain sparked as my cheek smacked into the concrete above the elevator button panel. A bag of limes fell out of my hand as Jupe yelled behind me.

“Against the wall!” a voice hollered near me. “Move!” A man in a bright blue hoodie towered in front of me, his face shrouded in sharp slices of shadow under the dim garage lights. No halo, so he was human, not Earthbound. His blond hair was shaggily cropped. He carried a curved hunting knife in one hand and stood with his legs apart, bouncing on the toes of his tennis shoes, ready for a fight.

I dropped the other bag I was holding and backed up against Jupe. The scrape on my cheek was on fire. My heart was racing so fast, it didn't feel like it was beating at all.

“Money. Now!” the man shouted. As he did, his head shifted out of the shadows to reveal a mouthful of yellow, rotting teeth. Meth head, I assumed, pairing his dental issues with the twitchy way he moved. Not exactly a man in his prime, that's for sure. On one hand, I might be able to take him down with a swift kick to his balls. Then again, I might get stuck with that dirty-ass knife.

“Credit cardth too,” the man added with a lisp, looking me over with nervous eyes. He turned the knife over in his hand and blinked rapidly. His erratic, drug-primed pulse was probably a few pumps away from causing his heart to explode; I wondered if I could will it along a little faster.

Jupe made a soft mewing noise behind me as his hands gripped the back of my jacket. I thought of the magical seals on my inner forearm, white ink tattoos etched into my skin. I could charge one of them to make Jupe and I seem to disappear; we could run to the car and escape. But most of the seals require blood or saliva to activate, both rich with Heka, the magical energy needed to power spells. Not exactly practical at the moment; by the time I pushed my jacket sleeve up, the meth addict could easily shiv me in the gut.

What else? Not enough time to break out a hunk of red ochre chalk and scribble out a spell, and I couldn't very well knock the guy out with a sack of lemons. What in hell was I going to do?

“You got a wallet, boy?” the mugger asked.

“No fucking way,” Jupe whispered in my ear. “He's not getting my car money.”

“What did you say? You got money?” The man twisted
his head around, scanning the garage as another car drove through the level above us. “Let's get in your car and drive to the ATM.”

I didn't answer. Like Jupe said, no fucking way.

“I don't mind hurtin' either one of you,” the man warned. “Eat or be eaten. A big, bad thtorm's a-comin'. Can't you feel it in the air?”

From the psychotic glint in his eyes, I didn't think he was talking about the afternoon rain forecast. Stupid bastard was out of his ever-loving mind. Dirty, diseased, high, and crazy. Awesome.

A fluorescent light shone above the elevator. I was going to have to shock him; why was my last resort always my only option? Best not to kick a gift horse in the mouth, I supposed. Most magicians would probably give their right arm to be able to kindle Heka like I could; my sensitivity threshold to electrical shock was pretty high. “Stay away,” I threatened, “or whatever god you pray to better help you, because I'm going to fry you to hell and back.”

“Say what?” He narrowed his eyes and visually searched me for a weapon.

I tapped into the electrical current. My skin tingled with the familiar flow of foreign energy as I began to spool electricity into myself. No time to be gentle about it, so I pulled fast. Lights flickered. The descending elevator groaned in protest. Within a couple of seconds, my body hummed with enough charged Heka to shock the guy pretty badly. But I'd have to get close enough to touch him; the concrete floor was a poor conductor.

“Let go,” I growled through gritted teeth, trying to shake Jupe off of me. He was gripping my jacket like death. If he didn't let go, I couldn't do this. Without a caduceus staff to
even out the release, it was going to hurt all of us when I released the kindled Heka.

The garage elevator dinged.

The mugger yelped and swiveled wildly, searching for the source of the sound.

The elevator doors parted.

“Police are coming! Run!” Jupe shouted near my ear. I jumped in surprise, nearly losing control of the charged Heka.

Spooked, the mugger cried out incoherently, turned on his heels, and fled from Jupe's nonexistent police in the empty elevator car. We watched in disbelief as he raced his own heartbeat up the parking garage ramp toward the next level; I'd never seen anyone move so fast. But when he barreled around the corner, a large blue minivan sped down the ramp. It slammed on squealing brakes as Methbrain ran out in front of it. The disconcerting thump of metal on flesh echoed through the garage. The man's body jerked as he crumpled on top of the minivan's hood.

Jupe gasped.

The doors to the elevator closed.

Unable to hold the Heka any longer, I shoved a shaking hand into my inner jacket pocket until my fingers wrapped around a pencil. I pushed Jupe off of me forcefully, then thrust the pencil into the concrete wall, releasing a substantial volt of charged Heka through the small graphite lead. The wooden caduceus staves I normally use for magical work contain fat graphite cores that allow smooth releases of kindled energy. This puny pencil? Not so much. It overloaded and immediately shattered, wedging a wooden yellow splinter into my skin.

“Shit!” I stuck my injured finger in my mouth as a wave of post-magick nausea hit me and I swayed on my feet. The
sound of car doors opening drew my attention to the minivan. Three people were running to help the meth head. Before I could scream for them to stop, he popped up from the hood like an unkillable video game character, briefly shook himself, and tore off again, farther up the ramp and out of sight.

Jupe's eyes were two brilliant circles of leafy green surrounded by white moons. “You okay?” I asked, putting my hands all over him like a soccer mom, as if there was a chance that all of his bones were crushed. Panicked thoughts of him needing another cast ran through my head: he'd only gotten out of the last one a couple of weeks ago.

“Whoa â¦” He was shaken, but otherwise fine. His eyes darted between me and the minivan. “We almost got mugged. Holy shit.”

“Oh, God, Jupe. I'm
so
sorry.” I wrapped my arms around him. A dark laugh vibrated his shoulders. I released him to study his face; he wasn't smiling.

“Do you believe me now?” he said. “I did that, Cady. Like I convinced the manager at the credit union.”

“Jupeâ”

He shook his head, dismissing my lack of belief, then said firmly, “I just made that mugger believe the cops were coming.”