Undead Chaos (14 page)

“I’ll nurse this one, thanks.”

Millie shook her head. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

“I was. Someone else wasn’t.”

“Looks like you got owned,” Steve said with a smile. Or at least what passed as one for Minotaurs. It was more like a vicious, hungry grin.

“That’s an accurate way of putting it. Made me wish I had a badass Minotaur at my side.”

“All you have to do is ask,” Steve replied. “I love cracking skulls.”

Millie peered at the gash on my shoulder and made a tsking noise. “Not very deep. Whoever performed the healing spell did a good job, but it needs to be treated to avoid infection. I may have something in the back.”

I stood to let her scoot out and she disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a second later with a first aid kit and a large metal tin of foul-smelling goo. She pulled my sleeve over my shoulder, scooped the goop with her fingers, and patted it onto my injury. It stung and burned all at once, the pain of which caused my knees to give. I caught myself on the table with my bad wrist and grunted as needles shot up my arm. Steve grabbed me with his massive hand before I toppled over.

“Sheesh, what a sissy.”

Millie glared at him, then slid my chair behind me. I slumped into it, thankful that if I passed out, I had less distance to travel to the floor.

She finished slathering the cut with her nasty goop and pulled a sewing kit from her apron.

“I’ll toss a couple quick stitches on just to make sure it heals properly. Don’t worry,” she said before I could say anything. “The balm will numb the wound, so you shouldn’t feel a thing.”

Her prediction was correct. I watched in fascination as she sewed the opening shut, encasing the goop under the baseball-style stitching. When she finished, she snipped the end of the thread and smothered the stitches with more balm. She inspected her work, then covered the entire thing with a large white bandage.

“That should hold for now.” She rolled the sleeve back down. “Let me see your wrist.” I lifted my busted hand. She felt around, noting when I winced.

“No broken bones, but a nasty sprain. You’ll want to keep it wrapped until you can see a Healer. Let me get you some ice for it.”

She disappeared once again into the back and returned with a bucket of ice. She murmured the words for a basic healing spell, wrapped my wrist, set it on the table, and placed a towel with ice on top. The cold seeped through the material and, along with the healing spell, helped calm the pain.

As she was finishing, the Minotaur swirled my drink, then slid it in front of me. “Dr. Steve recommends you have two of these and call him in the morning.”

I nodded, too tired to argue, and swallowed the Stonefire in one gulp. This time the liquid went down smooth, blasting my insides with warmth.

“Woah,” I muttered.

“Yeah, it’s always better to swirl it first,” he said. “Otherwise the grain alcohol floats to the top.”

“That would have been good to know a couple minutes ago.”

Steve shrugged. “Don’t blame me for your ignorance.”

Millie ignored the verbal sparring match, busying herself instead with the rest of my nicks and scrapes. Eventually she was satisfied I wasn’t going to die and returned to her seat. She swirled her own glass and took a sip, watching me out of the corner of her eye.

“So,” she said, “what happened?”

I gave them a rundown of events, glossing over the trip to Nick’s Knacks. Instead I kept the focus on my happenstance run-in with the Dubious Duo.

Millie refilled my glass. “They were pretty quick to pull the trigger.”

“They were waiting for someone,” I replied. “Claimed they received an anonymous tip that Fawkes or an associate was there.”

“Anonymous tip, huh?” she asked sarcastically. “Are you sure they weren’t waiting for you specifically?”

I nodded. “Jethrow was surprised when he saw me.”

She pursed her lips. “I don’t care if this is the Underground, no one has the authority to be judge, jury, and executioner. That’s especially true if it’s some lackey for the Delwinn Council.”

“I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt,” I said. “He may be a tool, but he’s a decent and honorable tool. If he claims he received a tip, then chances are that’s what happened.” More likely than not his information came from a local lowlife, which meant the person reporting it, and not Jethrow, was the one subject to error.

“But you’re right,” I added. “That’s still no excuse for him to just open fire. Even if they were issued kill-on-sight orders, Jethrow’s not the type to attack first and ask questions later. I’m not so sure about the Hunter, though. Could be that Treble acted before Jethrow could stop him.”

Mille frowned, still unconvinced.

“Here’s a thought,” Steve offered. “What if someone recognized you and decided to have the Hunter do their dirty work for them?”

“What do you mean?”

“If your friend had kill-on-sight orders, then it stood a good chance you’d be dead before the pair figured out their mistake.”

That was unnerving.

If someone did contact Jethrow to have him mistakenly take me out, then my window for anonymity was closed. Burning down The Golden Teacup hadn’t helped, and if Jethrow’s attack was a planned hit, the target was officially on my back. Worse, the presence of my old friend and his bulldog partner meant the Necromancer and his daughter were living on borrowed time.

Millie’s eyebrows knitted together with concern. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “Jethrow would never work with a man like Treble unless he was ordered to do so by the Council. If that’s the case, then they are deadly serious about making an example of Fawkes.”

“You honestly think the Council ordered them to attack on sight?”

“It’s possible.”

Millie darkened. “They’d have a lot of explaining to do if their operatives killed an innocent.”

“Actually, they wouldn’t. They could easily claim it was a random Underground murder and no one would question it. This is, after all, a very dangerous place.”

She was horrified. “They would do that?”

I scowled, sharing her displeasure. “They have before.”

Steve shook his head.

“It’s times like this that I lose my faith in your species,” Millie said quietly. Then she smiled sweetly at me. “At least there are people like you trying to stop the madness.”

“I’m not sure about stopping it,” I replied, my ears turning red, “but at least minimizing the hemorrhaging. If Jethrow and Treble are in the Underground hunting Simeon, then there are probably half a dozen other Warlock/Hunter teams across the globe doing the same thing. The only way to protect him and his daughter is to find them before anyone else does and get them to safety. From there, my father can convince the Council to focus their energy on tracking down the person responsible for Tony Banks.”

“Maybe afterward you can conjure up a pony and a Ferrari,” the Minotaur said. “You know, since you’re dreaming and all.”

“Maybe I will,” I grumbled, staring into my drink. After a moment, I looked at the pair. “What are you two doing up at this hour anyway. Aside from heckling me.”

Steve refilled his glass. “I needed a break from Jones. Between his mutterings and vomiting, he’s made sleep impossible. Not to mention, the room smells awful.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Millie said heavily.

“What happened?” I asked.

“One of the Elven couples bailed on me.”

“Really?”

Millie nodded. “They apparently went shopping yesterday afternoon, but my girls say they haven’t been back to their room since. I checked on them this evening, and they’re still not there. No bags, no clothes, nothing.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

She sighed. “Sadly, it’s not the first time an Elf has done this to me and, given my good nature, probably not the last. The second pair is around, but won’t give me the time of day.”

“Well, they’re Elves,” I offered. “We should all be glad we were allowed to bask in their presence, no matter how short the time.”

Millie chuckled and Steve grunted with approval.

“Seriously, though,” I said. “Don’t let them keep you up.”

“Actually, I was waiting for you. After all, I promised you a hot meal.”

I’d been so distracted by our conversation I had been unaware of eating. Staring at the empty plate, however, my body became aware of the combination of food and Stonefire sitting in my belly. Exhaustion hit me and my eyes grew extremely heavy.

Millie scooted my drink away from me. “You should get some sleep. Don’t worry about Steve and me. We’ll clean up down here.”

I was too exhausted to argue. I slid out of the chair, grabbed my gear, and stumbled several paces before turning around.

“Hey, I’m really glad you guys were up,” I said around a thick, heavy tongue. “This was a good way to end a crappy day. Thanks.”

Millie winked and Steve raised a glass.

The stairway felt narrower than normal, and it took several attempts to open the door to my room. I staggered in and was only barely aware of the thick, musty stench of sweat and puke. I dropped my gear on the floor, collapsed into the spare bed, and was lulled to sleep by the distant, muted groans of Forlorn Jones.

Chapter Twelve

Dream a Little Dream

I
am the golden child;
the one destined to inherit greater Skill that any person of my generation.
My genetic makeup is far superior to my peers and that entitles me to push the limits.
Only those that take risks ever leave a mark on the world
,
and I am preordained to do so.

I
am young
,
yet I know the spells better than anyone.
I
have studied and practiced them
,
putting in more hours than all my classmates combined.
My house is one of power and I must prove my worthiness to carry on the family name.

Now is the time to show everyone my capabilities.

The spell that would challenge others is simple for me.
I
command the power with ease.
I
close my eyes and reach out
,
tapping into the forces around me.
The response is staggering.
Tendrils of magic explode in all directions
,
stretching and interweaving with one another.
I
am like a spider and my web expands
,
gaining momentum with my command.

The experience is intoxicating.
I
have never felt magic of this magnitude
,
and my control over it is addictive.
I
push harder
,
seeking more energy.
Nothing responds.
I
call again
,
begging for the power.
The earth screams for me to cease
,
but I ignore the plea.
This is my destiny
,
my birthright.

Something notices me.
I
feel the awareness.
It is like a hurricane of fury ready to explode.
It acknowledges my presence and cries out.
Others respond.
It is a hunting call.

For the first time
,
I
am frightened.

I
scramble to return
,
cutting lines of energy as quickly as I can.
The predators shift and move to follow my retreat.
Some are slowed by my actions
,
but there are too many.
I
sever magical ties with reckless abandon
,
slashing at them frantically.
I
feel the pressure on my mind as the unnatural forces push against me.
I
launch what spells I can at the approaching storm
,
but to no avail.
They are nearly upon me.

One of the predators is well ahead of the rest and leaps toward me.
I
panic and blast the web with every ounce of strength within me
,
draining my reserves.
The explosion vaporizes the webbing
,
snapping the connection.

With a rush
,
I
return to my world.
I
collapse to the ground
,
sweating and crying with relief.

Then the reality before me splits open and my pursuer steps through.
I
have heard of this monster before—the Hellcat.

A
beast of raw evil that feeds upon fear and hate.
The paws are larger than truck tires
,
and its fur is made entirely of fire.
Red eyes peer into my soul
,
sizing me up
,
while the flaming tail whips back and forth.
Power pulsates from it
,
filling my senses with terror.
I
can smell nothing but scorched marble while the heat from its body scalds my exposed skin.

It lets loose a bellow that shatters my mind
,
and charges.

I
scream and pain explodes across my body as the claws tear into me.
I
am lifted into the air and hurled down the hall.
I
land in a heap—sliding on cool marble flooring.
My neck burns and blood pools beneath me at an alarming rate.

I
am dying.

There is the sound of pounding feet and shouts of alarm as my family and guards pour into the room.
I
see fear on my parents’ faces
,
but also grim determination.
My father unleashes a flurry of spells while my mother charges the beast with sword held high.
The guards unload a deafening barrage of firepower.

As the battle rages
,
I
feel the warm hands of the Healer on me.
He whispers to ignore the screams of death but I cannot tune them out.
I
am also powerless to tear my gaze from the fight.
Several guards fall to the Hellcat’s claws.
Then Sparrow
,
the Healer’s wife.

Jenkins’s scream cuts deeper than any slash from the Hellcat ever could
,
and he scrambles over me to rush to her side.
I
feel hot tears slide down my cheeks and drop into the expanding puddle of my warm
,
sticky blood as I watch him desperately try to save her.

It is in vain.

Darkness seeps into my vision.

As it envelops me
,
I
know that all of this blood is on my hands.
I
fade to my own screams of guilt and shame.

Suddenly a frigid coldness stabs at me
,
yanking me upward.
I
cry out in surprise only to feel the stabbing once again.
My mind reels
,
and it races from the darkness toward the light.
Pain explodes across my face
,
yanking me back to earth
...

* * *

My eyes jerked open and I was staring at a beast.

“Finally,” Steve said as I blinked awake. The room was spinning and I was soaking wet. I gazed around, squinting at the harsh light pouring down from the overhead lamps.

“What’s going on?” I stammered, tugging on my sopping T-shirt.

“You were screaming in your sleep. I didn’t think it was possible, but you were actually more annoying than Jones. I had enough and decided to do something about it.” He raised a small wooden bucket for emphasis.

My heart raced as the tendrils of the dream slowly turned to wisps. The images faded, but the terror still felt real.

“Dammit, Jethrow,” I muttered.

“No,” the Minotaur said. “Me Steve. You Marcus,”

I grimaced as pain prickled across my jaw. “Why is my face sore?”

“The water wasn’t doing the trick.” He smirked and showed me his backhand. “Works every time.”

I rubbed my cheek and nodded. “Yeah, I’d say so.” Then added, “ouch.”

Steve rolled his eyes and offered me a hand. “Come on, you big baby, time to get up. Millie’s serving breakfast downstairs and I’m starving.”

I gripped the bartender’s hand and he hauled me easily out of the bed. Blood rushed to my body and my vision grayed, but cleared a moment later.

I stretched, wincing as the rest of my body slowly woke up. The stitching in my shoulder was still numb, but the rest of me felt as if it had been through the wringer. My wrist was throbbing and my muscles ached from the beatings I’d received recently and the overexertion of Skill. This was compounded by an excruciating headache. I dug through my backpack and put two painkillers into my pocket to take with food.

“Let’s go, slowpoke,” Steve grumbled. “Daddy’s famished.”

“I need a shower,” I said, catching a whiff of myself. “Go ahead without me.”

“I can’t. Millie refuses to feed me unless I drag your sorry butt down there. That means you’re showering after breakfast.” He took a deep breath and exhaled with a grunt. “Those eggs smell so good.”

“Eggs, huh?” I asked, pulling off my wet shirt and tugging on a dry one. “Was she out of Grecian virgins or something?”

Steve opened the door and motioning me out. “I don’t eat virgins anymore, thank you very much.”

“How come? Did you develop a more sensitive palette?”

“No, because they’re impossible to find.”

The noise from the diner echoed up the stairs. We descended slowly—okay
I
descended slowly—and entered the back of the main room.

The place was alive with patrons and the smells that billowed from the kitchen were intoxicating. Waitresses zipped past us carrying massive plates of food, and the trailing scents caused my stomach to howl with desire.

Millie waved at us from behind the faded counter and motioned toward a table with a small sign that read “Reserved.” I walked over and tenderly sat in the chair. Apparently I’d somehow bruised my bottom in the fight—sitting was especially uncomfortable.

“Glad to see the patient is mobile,” she said. “You were so beat last night that I assumed you’d be asleep for days.”

“I would have been,” I replied as a bubble gum—popping waitress slid an impressive mound of scrambled eggs in front of me. “Unfortunately, my Minotaur alarm clock woke me up early.”

“Says the man who was screaming in his sleep, Nancy-boy,” Steve said around a pitchfork of eggs. “Besides,” he added defensively, “I was hungry.”

Mille frowned at me. “Nightmare?”

I felt my face turn pink.

“I guess,” I lied. It was the same one that had plagued me for years. One that repeated itself every so often, especially when I was stressed. I did my best to block it, but sometimes the dream overpowered me with a vengeance.

“Nothing a little breakfast won’t fix. Eat your food, then take a shower. I’ll check your stitches after you clean up.”

She left us to the eggs, which disappeared in record time. I threw down the painkillers, then helped myself to another round of chow. Steve was silent as he gobbled three plates worth of food and drained at least a gallon of orange juice. By the time we finished, I felt bloated and very happy.

“Dibs on the shower,” I said, heaving myself out of the chair. My body felt looser, and I made a mental note to thank Healer Jenkins for the drugs.

“Go for it,” Steve replied as a waitress topped off his bucket of coffee. “I prefer baths anyway. Way more relaxing.”

I laughed. “Weirdo.”

I turned and ran full-bore into one of the female Elves from the day before, spilling coffee all over her. She cursed in her native tongue.

“Imbecile!” she snapped, scowling at me as she shook the coffee from her sleeves. “Do you humans ever bother to watch where you are going?”

“Sorry,” I said, grabbing a napkin and offering it to her. She sneered and pulled away from me as if I was contagious.

“Filthy mongrel,” she snapped. “Keep your fetid paws off of me!”

By this point the entire diner was watching the show. I smiled sheepishly at the crowd, then turned back to the Elf as her male counterpart appeared. Like the lady, he was dressed in matching leather boots, britches and tunic, but his outfit was slightly more rugged. And while the female’s soft, ethereal hair was pulled back in a severely tight braid, he wore his long and allowed it to fall in a way made popular in anime films. Still, had it not been for the ample breasts on the female, I’d have had a difficult time guessing their genders.

“What is going on here?” he demanded.

“This oaf attempted to touch me.”

The male fixed me with a withering gaze. “You
dare
lay a hand on my mate?” he snarled.

“We just bumped into one another,” I said.

“Then he tried to use that disgusting rag to make unwanted advances,” the woman added.

“Woah, what?” I replied in surprise. “Miss, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We just—”

“Oh, there’s been a misunderstanding,” the male growled. “You, Human, do not understand the level of offenses you have committed against our kind.”

“Listen, obviously this is all a mistake, so allow me to apologize again and offer to pay for your breakfast. As well as buy a new tunic for the lady.”

Mr. Elf blanched. “You think you can
bribe
you way clear of your misconduct?” he thundered. “Your dishonor deserves retribution!”

There was a blur of motion and suddenly a knife was quivering inches from my face. My bowels weakened a little as I stared cross-eyed at the tip. Then I noticed the catcher’s mitt—sized hand that was clamped on the Elf’s wrist.

“Now that,” Steve said, “was about the dumbest thing you could have done.”

He was still seated with his coffee in one hand, the Elf in the other. The Elves turned to see who the intruder was and their perfect eyebrows lifted as Steve stood to his full height.

“The way I saw it,” the Minotaur continued, “these two simply ran into one another. My friend here was trying to be a gentleman and help the lady out. Your woman, on the other hand, has been nothing but an overreacting, pompous bitch. Since you seem not only incapable of recognizing a very kind gesture, but also completely prejudiced against his species, I recommend you leave at once. Oh,” he added, “and I’m keeping your knife.”

“Never,” the Elf said defiantly. “It was given to me at birth and has been a part of me ever since.”

“The same can be said about your hand,” Steve replied, “You can lose one or both. Your choice.”

The Elf dropped the knife instantly. Steve looked down as it clattered noisily to the floor.

“Scabbard too,” he said. The Elf used his free hand to unhook the scabbard and drop it next to the knife.