Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem Book 2) Page 24

  “Roger… the Alpha of the North American pack?” Emery’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah. We have a love-hate relationship. Anyway, I just want to make sure Red’s gone. If so, then we need to make our way into those bars and see what we can see. If I get close enough, I’ll be able to point out the mages.”

  “Given how they react to me, I’ll be able to tell you which mages are friendly and which aren’t,” Emery said dryly.

  Reagan turned slowly with glimmering eyes. A smile curled her lips. “Yes, indeedy. Fantastic.” She turned back around. “As soon as we know Red is safely out of the way, we’ll go dangle the bait. Roger may want to do things by the book, but why wait for the Guild to start a fight? Let’s get them to play their cards.”

  “Oh good, you’re the bait this time. I like that better.” I felt an itch between my shoulder blades, like someone was focusing so hard on me that they were poking me in the back.

  Emery turned before I could, and looked in the direction of the gaze. A group of laughing people wearing beads and funny glasses sauntered down the sidewalk. A couple crossed the street, a man and woman with a slight limp. There were more the other way, coming around the corner. People were everywhere, in all moods. Hiding here would be a piece of cake.

  “If we mask ourselves with a spell,” Emery murmured, “we’ll give away what we are.”

  I clutched my hoodie again. “Reagan, get this show on the road. I want to get out of here.”

  “I’ll get the show on the road, but you’re not getting out of here.” Reagan ducked, bobbed, and weaved, making a fool of herself while trying to scope out the bars. “With Emery here, they’ll be pulling all their resources into one place. And with the Guild’s money and power, a few of the lug nuts in Callie and Dizzy’s groups will be stupid enough to join their forces. Teamed with the creeps who are already loitering around this city, sticking to the outskirts and waiting until the time is right, we’ll have a small army on our hands.”

  “They’ll attack during the day so we can’t use the vampires,” Emery said. “Given that they’ve seemed to stop caring about keeping their magic under wraps…” He shook his head and scanned the crowd. “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. We need to dangle some bait.”

  “The bait. You,” I said between clenched teeth, my body shaking. I knew a battle was coming. I’d known that for months. But the last few days had given me time to relax in relative safety. Time to better hone my craft. Then Emery had shown up and the danger around me had seemed to melt away.

  I’d fallen into my own false sense of security.

  And it had just been ripped away.

  “Perfect. Yes!” Reagan grabbed my arm and dragged me up the street toward the bars. “Keep that mojo going, Penny. Get those shifters eager to help you. That’ll at least give us a few more hands on deck.”

  A big man with a unibrow stood in front of the bar we’d been thrown out of the other night, taking some woman’s ID. She laughed and touched her hand to her chest, making a joke about feeling young again. Her comments were met with a hard scowl.

  “Jimmy,” Reagan said, crossing in front of him and leaning against the wall beside him. I awkwardly stood next to her, since she hadn’t let go of my arm. Emery stood on the other side, staring at me with a perplexed expression, as if he still couldn’t see me as a damsel in need of rescuing.

  Mr. Unibrow, Jimmy, curled his lips and shook his head. “You shouldn’t be here. Management ain’t impressed with you right now.”

  “When is management ever impressed with me?” she asked.

  He handed the woman’s ID back and took one from a man wearing an excited, dopey smile. “Fair point. Red’s gone.”

  “Good. Say, listen, what’s the scuttlebutt? What have you got wandering through here?” Reagan pushed me back against the wall so she could look down the sidewalk.

  Jimmy handed the ID back and finally looked at us. His eyes snagged on me, and his scowl increased. “What’s the deal with her? She need rescuin’ from you or what?”

  “See?” Reagan shot Emery a glance. “What did I tell you?”

  Jimmy followed her glance, keeping his focus on Emery for a few beats longer. When he finally returned his attention to Reagan, there was a wary light in his eyes. “What are you into now?”

  “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. I can’t use the help of a sea creature shifter, no matter how perplexing and secretive their mating habits…” Reagan waggled her eyebrows at him.

  “What kind of sea creature?” I whispered, losing the battle with curiosity.

  “Merman. How do they mate? No one knows.” Reagan waved that aside. “Doesn’t matter. At the moment. Listen, Red was concerned enough about the strangers of this area to call. What have you seen?”

  Jimmy stared down someone who had stopped outside the bar and looked in. The poor guy with the strange taste in Hawaiian shirts clearly liked the music and was thinking about a libation, but the intense furrow in Jimmy’s bushy unibrow scared him off. He skulked farther on down.

  “We got mages.” Jimmy spat to the side, nearly hitting Emery’s shoe. “Sorry, bro.” He curled his lip. “Heard someone talking about some nasty shit. Shit I don’t even want to repeat. Got him all sorts of power, la-dee-da. Had to brutally kill someone to get it. Didn’t seem to bother him.” He shifted to a wide, aggressive stance. His magic, the call of the sea, deep and powerful, washed over me. “I threw his ass out. Said he couldn’t be talking about none of that in my bar. Hell no. But he has friends. I know he does. Shifty-eyed, scrawny little hacks coming in here and staring holes in my back. When I look around, they have something else taking up their attention. Driving me crazy. But I don’t know no more than that. I don’t know enough to start banning people. Hell, I don’t even know who to ban.”

  “Any other bars you’ve heard about this happening in?” Emery asked.

  “A couple. All magical clientele. But again, aside from a few things people have mistakenly overheard, that’s all we know. It’s bugging me out. At least you can tell when it’s a vampire. Hell, even you.” He gestured at Reagan. “You smell different. Do I care why? No, I do not. I know you ain’t human, I know to watch my six around you, and that’s that. But these fuckers.” His lip curled again. “They’re dressing like tourists. They’re drinking and trying to fit in. I don’t know one from the other, but I know they ain’t right in the head. I know they don’t give two shits about killing people. That’s got me jumpy, I don’t mind telling you. I do not want that shit in my town, do you hear me?”

  “The real question is, does Roger hear you?” Reagan asked, a gleam in her eyes as she surveyed the street in front of her. It was the look that promised action, and I was just thankful not to be on the other end of it.

  “Yeah, he knows, but he doesn’t know how big the threat is yet. Doesn’t know how many people to bring in.”

  “Tell him the Rogue Natural is on scene. We’ve got both targets in town, together. It’ll draw big numbers.”

  Two younger girls stopped outside the bar and looked in before shooting furtive glances at Emery. They giggled, and one flicked her hair.

  “Hey, you coming in?” Jimmy asked in a rough voice.

  The smiles faltered. The one with long blond hair batted her Bambi eyes at Emery. “Well? Are we?”

  They both giggled. I wanted to swat her.

  “No, no!” Reagan stepped in front of Jimmy and pointed a finger at the girls. “No way. He’s taken.” She jabbed a finger at Emery, who cracked a grin. “Don’t you be creepin’ on my girl’s man. He’s not for you. I will cut you, do you understand me?” Eyes wide and smiles dipping in confusion, the girls started backing away. “I will cut you if you so much as glance his way. Tell all your friends. He’s off the table, bitches.”

  Faces fallen, the girls hurried off. I couldn’t do much more than stare.

  “That was a bit much,” Jimmy said, putting his hand in front of Reagan without touching her. “Respe
ct, but it was a bit much.”

  Reagan laughed and stepped back. “I’ve always wanted to do that. I could get down with having a girlfriend to defend.”

  “You don’t need more reasons to fight.”

  “What a horrible thing to say to me.” She cracked her knuckles. “Speaking of starting fights, let’s see who’s in the bar today. If Red comes back, don’t let him in. He’ll just tell Roger on me.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Back corner. Glasses,” he said, waving her in. “Give him hell. We need to clean up this town.”

  Reagan stopped me before entering the doorway. “Give me a moment. Then drift off to the right and try to find a corner. Emery, head to the nearest end of the bar. We’re splitting up.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” he said, his hand firm on my back.

  “I need Penny to draw on heartstrings, and she’ll do that better alone in a corner. As for you, I want to see who recognizes you. That’ll be telling.”

  “And you?” he asked quietly.

  “Why, I’ll raise hell, of course. Smacking down mages in bars seems to be a specialty of mine.”

  34

  Emery took my hand as Reagan drifted into the bar, her posture a little hunched and her head pointed down a bit. It was her version of skulking, even though she still looked like she was about to kill everyone in the place. Electricity sizzled up my arm and fizzled through the air, crackling with static.

  “Whoa, shit.” Jimmy stepped away from us. “You guys are packing some heat, huh? Don’t blow this place up. I need this job.”

  “Hey,” Emery whispered into my ear, his chest against my arm. The chill on the air caressed my skin and the breeze flicked my hair. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, okay? You don’t have to be scared.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, closing my eyes as the throb and wobble of the world around me simmered down into a steady hum. The feel of Jimmy’s magic drifted over me like sea foam, soft and salty, lightly scratching. For a moment, the call of the blue depths of the ocean tugged at my heart, begging me to return and drift among its currents. Promising to protect me.

  Other magic pushed at me from all directions. Spicy, sweet, gritty, thick—the patrons of this bar represented a cross-section of the magical community, I could feel it. Though I didn’t know what they were, the shape of their magic was taking form for me as it played, pushed, or messed with mine.

  “Step back. They’re going through something, here,” I heard Jimmy say, his magic vibrating around me, wanting to lead me to his home. To the place he felt the most comfortable. The most powerful. So he could help.

  “Keep your eyes out—that is help enough,” I murmured, concentrating on the magical bubble that sprang up so easily whenever Emery was around. “The balance is so easy with you,” I whispered.

  “I’ll make sure no harm comes to you,” Emery said.

  “It’s okay,” I repeated. “I’m used to being scared in this town. It’s a normal state of affairs. If I start running, look around for danger.”

  I fluttered my eyes open and walked forward, wondering if I’d be able to hold the balance as his body drifted away from mine. He’d been right. This mutual sharing brought a different feeling than simply reaching out and using his magic. It was a calm, peaceful place that made it easier for me—and him, I sensed—to properly feel the world around me.

  I wondered if I could bring Reagan into it.

  I wondered if I’d be able to do magic comfortably without it, now that I’d experienced its comforting embrace.

  I wondered why the heck I was suddenly the center of attention.

  Almost every eye in the bar had turned to me. I’d stopped just inside the doorway, my hands at my sides and my body straight and tall.

  Hunch, you idiot! You’re Captain Skulks-a-Lot, not a super fighter like Reagan or Emery. Own your mantle.

  I bowed my back, but it was too late. Two guys had turned toward me with lopsided grins and puffed-out chests. Farther down, a woman had narrowed her eyes at me, and it clearly wasn’t because of the two non-magical tourists with too much alcohol in their system. A pair of middle-aged men met my eyes with sparkles of menace before slowly turning around to their drinks, not saying a word or looking at each other.

  The Guild was in this bar. But they were far from the only magical people present. A row of rough-and-tumble men and women had bristled into a state of readiness.

  Ready to help me, I gathered.

  I could feel it like I had with Jimmy. Their power surged up around them, stuffing the air with territorialism and vicious intent. They felt threatened by the mages, and planned to do anything in their power to extinguish that threat.

  I was the thing that could help them, and whatever magical feelers I’d put out had them convinced I could help them.

  Which was good, because there was no way I could make a stand alone, but I was also attracting way too much attention.

  Beside the table in the corner was a small hollow, visually cut off from the live band on the other side, which was why it was empty, even though the table a few paces from it was full of people.

  As I made my way to the empty table, a man I didn’t know with dirty-blond hair falling to his shoulders in a wave nodded at me, his eyes glimmering with violence and kindness at the same time. He didn’t mean me harm. His companions had already looked away, studying their drinks.

  Across the bar, Reagan was sitting next to a youngish guy with a goofy grin. She cradled a tumbler half-full of brown liquid, probably whiskey. Apparently she was the type to drink on the job. The bartender, Trixie from the other night, took Reagan’s money with a flat expression and headed to the till. Her posture screamed wary. She was uncomfortable with something in the bar, and based on how she’d handled Reagan’s violence the other night, it wasn’t her.

  Guild.

  Anger wobbled my balanced bubble, but Emery strutted into the bar behind me, his posture loose and relaxed, confident and in charge. He surveyed the crowd, letting his gaze linger on a few of the male patrons, probably magical people, before drifting out of my view, toward the area of the bar nearest the band. He’d go deaf on this stakeout.

  In the far corner, Reagan glanced up at me before shifting her attention back to the crowd in the bar. I couldn’t tell who interested her most, because one of the lopsided grinners from the bar cut off my view, his lean pronounced and his eyes slightly glazed.

  The dirty-blond man who’d nodded at me stood up, pushing his chair back as he did so. Just over six feet tall with a powerful frame, he turned toward the bar with a loose body that almost looked like it was lounging. Like he was getting in a good stretch before he attacked.

  “What do you want?” he growled out to Drunk Guy, and a spicy elixir tickled my magic, like a wind-swept prairie in the hot moonlight.

  “I got no beef with you, bro,” Drunk Guy said, the words slurring and jumbled together. “I’m just heading over there.” He pointed in my direction, and I shrank back without meaning to.

  The shifter stepped into the path between me and Drunk Guy. “Does she look like a ringmaster, mate?” he asked.

  Drunk Guy frowned and swayed. Confusion turned to anger, and alcohol erased the desire for self-preservation. He bristled and stepped toward the shifter. “Why don’t you get out of the way, bro.”

  “I said, does she look like a ringmaster?” the shifter said, not moving. The change in his body was slight, but I could feel raw power and brutal grace exude from him. “Because if not, she has no need of clowns.”

  “Get him out of here, Steve,” Trixie yelled across the bar. “He’s had enough.”

  “With pleasure, love.” Steve, the shifter, grabbed the man by the shirt with both hands, lifted him without effort, and muscled him toward the door.

  As soon as they left, I caught another glimpse of Reagan, downing her whiskey and staring toward the corner that Jimmy had pointed out.

  She nodded to Trixie and slapped another five on the bar, no
w staring straight ahead.

  Steve wandered back in, seemingly without a care in the world. He nodded at me as he passed, then shrugged at my muttered thanks. He took his seat without a word, and the others around him shifted and adjusted their positions. Certain figures stilled, their hands in front of them, close together. Others straightened up, ready for action. Still more shifted and fidgeted, looking around uncomfortably. It felt like we were all in a pressure cooker, waiting for something to blow.

  My attention was drawn to one of the middle booths in the bar. The occupants were studying each other intently, silent communication in their eyes.

  I edged farther out of my nook so I could see better.

  Magic wisps rose feebly from the hands of the man nearest the bar, his hands clasped next to his empty glass. Another mage had her hands below the table, magic rolling into a messy sort of weave intended for destruction.

  “This is about to kick off,” I told Steve absently, edging still farther out.

  “It was about to kick off when these maggots wandered into the wrong part of town. We’re just waiting for the go-ahead.”

  “No, I mean, it is about to kick off right now. They are creating shitty spells that will get Reagan riled up, which will get Emery riled up, which will make me do something stupid. You might want to walk out now.”

  “What? And miss the fireworks?” He laughed and turned in his chair. I got the impression he was preparing to surge up and out. The people around him pushed their chairs back a little, too, also in anticipation.

  “You don’t know what you’re messing with,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “They don’t scare us, love,” Steve insisted. “Just lead the charge. We’re right behind you.”

  “I meant, you don’t know what is going to come at you, probably accidentally. I have no idea what I’m doing!”

  Steve looked at me in confusion, but it was too late to explain.

  A man with wire-rimmed glasses and a comb-over popped out of the corner booth. Glasses. A gush of magic ballooned up in front of him, intending to melt the face off someone. The weave was loose but orderly, and he’d called it up quickly. And it was directed at Reagan.