Alchemist rules, p.6
Alchemist Rules, page 6
part #3 of The Ironspell Chronicles Series
“You seem pretty good with magic. Why aren’t you at a university instead of being a cop?” Tuzren asked.
I rolled my eyes and tossed the letter at him.
“Oh,” he said after he freed it from the envelope and read it. “That’s rough, kid. Who’s this Carnaz, anyway?”
“Apparently the Dean of Wizardry and Alchemy Studies,” I said. I looked at the demon and a thought popped into my head. “Tuzren, how good are you at finding information?”
Tuzren looked askance. “I’m a demon. That’s what demons do.”
“How would you like to hang around here a while longer rather than go Dumpster diving again?”
A sly smile crossed the demon’s face. “Really? What kind of information do you need?”
I pointed to the letter. “Find out everything you can on Carnaz and tell me. I did some research in the Enchanted Forest’s Library with a friend and somehow Carnaz is associated with Myrkálfar Enterprises, LLC.”
“Myrkálfar Enterprises, Myrkálfar Enterprises.” The little demon’s face grew serious as he considered the information. “What’s my payment? Can you send me back to my plane?”
“That’s out of my league.” I shrugged. “But I’ll look into it. In the meantime, I’ll let you stay for a week.”
“Too short. Make it a month and get rid of the monster.”
“Fluffy stays. I’ll give you two weeks.”
Tuzren shook his head. “No dice, a month or you can find your own information.”
“All right,” I sighed. “But on one condition: you need to find out everything you can about Myrkálfar Enterprises, and why a new professor got the dean position instead of someone else in the department. And you live by my house rules. No partying, guests, or destruction to anything in here. Including Fluffy.””
Tuzren made a face. “What, you think I’d bring lady demons here? I can’t even get back to my plane.”
“Just making sure.” I glanced at the time. It was almost 6:00. “Got to get ready. You make yourself at home, but just don’t go where there are wards or locks, and don’t antagonize Fluffy.”
“What if it antagonizes me?”
I didn’t deign a response. Instead, I went back upstairs and picked out jeans and Warren Zevon t-shirt saying Send Lawyers, Guns and Money. Luna had given me a Werewolves of London t-shirt, but it was dirty, so I settled for the next best shirt. Given that I was going to Trader Vics—a popular Supe hangout—I might as well dress the part. I slipped on my belly band holster for a concealed weapon and added my 9mm. To hide the weapon, I added a dark, long-sleeve shirt and kept the shirt unbuttoned. As a cop—even one on administrative leave—I was supposed to respond to any sort of incident that would require the police. Hence, I carried concealed. I wasn’t expecting trouble, but going to a Supe bar could prove interesting. While I could use magic for the worst offenders, bullets generally take care of most problems. I left the bedroom and walked down the stairs.
Suddenly, Tuzren was flying next to me. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” I wasn’t in the mood to discuss my social life with a demon.
“Can I come?”
“No.”
“What? You have a hot date?”
I shrugged. “Just going to meet some friends.”
Tuzren’s face brightened. “Then, you don’t mind if I tag along.”
I turned to him. “Actually, I do mind. You should be searching for Carnaz.”
“I’ve got a month.” He grinned. “Besides, you’ll impress your girl that you summoned a demon.”
“I didn’t summon a demon,” I said crossly. “I found him Dumpster diving.”
“She doesn’t need to know that.” He flitted in front of me. “Come on. I really don’t want to be stuck here with that monster.”
I stopped at the front door and looked at him. “Promise me you won’t make any trouble.”
“None whatsoever. Scout’s honor.” He raised his hand in the Boy Scout salute.
“You were never a Boy Scout.”
He nodded. “True. Can’t get anything by you.”
I sighed. “Okay, but cause trouble and you’re going straight home.” I opened the door and readjusted the wards so that it allowed Tuzren to enter and leave without getting zapped. I stepped out of the tiny house and unhitched the Toyota from it. Denver really wasn’t a mass transit city, despite the light rail. The buses primarily worked for the 8-to-5 crowd, which meant those who didn’t conform were mostly out of luck if they didn’t have a vehicle.
I hated leaving the tiny house there. I needed to get an Ignore Me spell charm when I checked up on my mom to make sure she was doing okay. The last one clearly had faded over time. If I were to stay in the house all the time, I could keep an Ignore Me spell on it indefinitely, but seeing as I didn’t stay at the house all the time, maintaining a spell like that used up a huge amount of power.
I drove toward downtown, my mind still trying to wrap my head around the events of the last night. As I passed by Washington Park, my mind replayed the fight with the troll. I had almost forgotten about the entire incident with DU’s rejection to my Masters’ application. I idly wondered how Douglas was faring and decided I really didn’t care, as long as he wasn’t dead. Yeah, he was an asshole and an idiot to break police procedure and go off on his own, but he didn’t deserve to die. I felt a little guilty that I didn’t have more concern over his welfare, but after having four other partners injured, I was getting a bit jaded.
But that incident led to the same question I pondered earlier before I got the letter. What in the hell was a troll doing in Washington Park? Trolls weren’t exactly city dwellers. This troll looked like a mountain troll, which made him equally puzzling. With no caves or even a decent bridge nearby, the troll would’ve turned to stone in direct sunlight. While he could’ve come from one of the I-25 bridges, most trolls wouldn’t be caught dead far from a safe place away from sunlight. Pun intended. Trolls were stupid, but they weren’t that stupid.
“Why would a troll hang out in Washington Park?” I said aloud.
Tuzren eyed me from the passenger side headrest where he had chosen to sit. “That’s a good question.” He paused. “Want to give me an extra month?”
“No, I’ll figure it out myself,” I said sourly. I didn’t need a houseguest for two months.
“Suit yourself.” Tuzren shrugged.
As odd as the little mystery was, it really wasn’t in my job description as a paranormal cop—assuming I still had a job. If I wanted to keep my job, I couldn’t show too much initiative. Hell, one letter of reprimand in my file was enough to keep me out of the Wizard Task Force. And no one would hire me as a cop, let alone for magic control, with that in my file.
To make matters worse, it appeared that I got the chatty demon. Tuzren talked about everything and anything—and nothing. I wondered if I made the right call having him work on the Carnaz problem, but if Spaz was as stumped as I was, only a demon would be able to find something about the professor and his company.
I made it to LoDo in decent time and, as usual, dinner and bar-goers’ vehicles filled the parking areas. Even my favorite lots were full. I had to settle parking in a shadier side of LoDo and walking to Trader Vics. Not that I was too concerned. My situational awareness was pretty good, as cops go. Plus someone taking me on would have a nasty surprise. The cool air made me reconsider my wardrobe, so I threw on my leather DPDS jacket. Everyone at Trader Vics knew I was a Supernatural cop, so it was cool.
We got out and I engaged the wards. I wanted to be sure I had a truck to come back to. Tuzren flitted beside me, gawking over the area like a tourist and chatting me up about the area.
“Wow, I’ve never been in this section of town before. This is cool.” Tuzren spun around in the air in a demonic pirouette and looked up at the older buildings. “I bet you could find a load of Supes here. This is way cool! How far do we have to go? Can we take a detour when we come back? I want to check out their Dumpsters…”
Damn, did that demon ever shut up? I tuned him out. Instead, I paid attention to the alleyways we passed, the shadowy sidewalks, both up and down the street, and the buildings’ entranceways. I tried to block out the demon’s nattering and use my magical sight to see if there were any supernatural threats, but that sort of magic doesn’t come second nature to me. I caught a glimpse of something dark hanging out in a doorway on the other side of the street, but other than that, the place was empty except for me and the demon.
We walked past the building with the suspicious shadow lurking in the doorway. Glancing over, I could see nothing alarming there. Whatever was there had probably moved on. My mind was on getting to Trader Vics which was just three blocks away. That and Tuzren’s nattering explains why I didn’t sense the attack.
Chapter Ten
One moment I was walking next to Tuzren; the next moment I was flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me and seeing stars. Which was unusual, given the light pollution a city generates. A large Orc loomed overhead and dropped his knee into my stomach, causing those stars to turn into large black spots in my vision. I retched. The Orc cocked back a fist the size of a small frying pan and slammed it down. It would’ve connected with my jaw, but despite his surprise attack, I managed to get my arms up to protect my head.
Off ut a me nunc! I shouted. It was one of the few spells I didn’t need to look up, having rehearsed it plenty of times before I graduated from police academy just for these kind of occasions. The Orc flew off of me as if something hammered it hard in the chest and threw him a good twenty feet back.
I scrambled to get up but the Orc had already recovered and pulled a wicked knife from his belt.
Arripite clypeum! I shouted again, this time before the Orc got to me. A magical shield formed around me in time to catch the knife and turn it aside. I managed to stand up, despite feeling awful from the knee in my guts. My head was woozy to make matters worse, and I couldn’t recall a simple incantation for a fireball.
“Asshole wizard-cop!” The Orc snarled and pounded on my shield with his hands. It flashed with each pounding, which didn’t help the shield at all. It wouldn’t last forever, either. I reached for my Glock, only to see it ten yards away on the ground. Shit.
“Need help?” Tuzren spoke in my ear, nearly causing me to jump out of my skin.
“Crap, Tuzren, give me a little warning when you do that.” The demon must have been close when I raised the shield, because he was inside it. I winced as the Orc pounded the shield harder.
“Well, if you don’t need my help…” He crossed his arms and sat on my shoulder.
“What’s the payment?” I suddenly remembered the fireball spell. “Globus ignis!” A fireball appeared in my hand and I tossed it at the Orc. The Orc ducked and it went crashing into one of the sidewalk trashcans and set it ablaze. Great.
“Let me stay one more month.”
“Oh, hell no.” The Orc smashed through the shield and I tossed another fireball at it. This time, the fireball impacted and the Orc screamed as the fire went to work like napalm. The stench of barbequed Orc was unbearable. I took the moments I had to grab my Glock and point it, but the Orc fled.
I walked over to the burning trashcan and muttered an extinguish spell. The fire went out and I gazed ruefully at the trashcan. Most likely the city workers would chalk it up to homeless trying to keep warm. Even though it was spring, it was still somewhat chilly. I dusted myself off. The leather jacket kept my shirts intact after my roll on the ground, and my jeans looked none the worse for wear.
I had to reevaluate my choice of holsters, though. It did me no good to lose my weapon when someone got me on the ground.
“Nice fireball.” Tuzren flew into view. “You do decent magic when you’re motivated. You should hire me on as a motivational counselor.”
I looked askance at the demon. “You don’t give up, do you?”
Tuzren shrugged. “I need a pad, what else can I say?”
“Why don’t you find a way to get back to your plane?” I asked as I continued walking toward the bar. I knew I should call the attack in, but I wasn’t sure how using magic would go over with the higher ups. The higher ups that were evaluating my job performance and who might just fire me as a cop for doing magic. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that it might not be a great idea.
“I’ve tried,” Tuzren said. “Stupid summoner didn’t release me from the geas but still cut me loose.”
“Well that was shitty of him. Who was it?”
Tuzren shook his head. “That’s part of the geas. I can’t say.”
“Oh great.” I actually felt sorry for the demon. Not only was he stuck on this plane, but he couldn’t even tell anyone who did this to him. Demons were interesting creatures in that they could only speak the truth, but over the millennia they learned to twist their words so they could seriously mislead someone to thinking one thing. This clever wordplay got them a bad rap and a reputation for malevolence. Most summoned demons arrived in a murderous mood—after all, how would you like it if you were yanked surreptitiously from your life and demanded that you do something? I understood that, which is why I never bothered with demon summoning. Too much of a pain in the ass.
Tuzren was a bit different, though, I had to give him credit. I felt sorry for the little guy, but he really wasn’t my problem. My guess was that whoever summoned him was powerful enough to thwart a small demon’s attack. That made him a pretty serious summoner and one wizard I really didn’t want to cross.
But right now I had other things to worry about. As I walked toward Trader Vics, I kept an eye out for any other attackers. Tuzren looked pensive as well. If it had been a typical mugging, the Orc would’ve demanded my wallet and absconded with my Glock. But no, he didn’t. He was focused on killing me, or at least doing serious bodily harm.
Maybe he was just a random psycho-killer? Except, he knew I was a cop. Maybe he recognized the jacket? Maybe he just had a beef with cops in general, and I was there? I pondered that for a bit as we walked up to the doorway to Trader Vic’s. I turned to Tuzren before we walked in. “Watch yourself here. The werewolves claim this bar as their own and it can get a little rough.”
“Just werewolves?” Tuzren asked.
“No, there are other Supes there, too, but the majority are weres. Watch your step.” With that, we entered the bar.
~ * ~
Trader Vic’s isn’t more of a bar than it is an honest-to-god tavern. You walk down a flight of steps to get inside. Trader Vic’s is like its own time capsule with décor that fits in with the 1880s. The walls, floor, and furniture are all made from well-oiled white oak and pine. The bar has an ebony top and brass foot rails and the ceiling was real tin. On the walls hung various game trophies of elk and deer, with the occasional moose.
The owner, Cassidy Jones, likes to keep it dark and smoky to add the allure. Ever since the Denver smoking ban went into effect, Jones made the main bar the smoking area and a separate, much smaller room non-smoking, just to comply with the law, but everyone ends up in the smoking area, unless they’re a tourist who don’t know any better. One look at the tavern’s denizens and most Normals leave fast. It’s not as if any weres would harm them, but most humans are scared shitless of them—and with good reason. Werewolves are pretty scary creatures when they’re in a human form, let alone when they change. Think biker bar on steroids and you have the local werewolf pack.
“Wow! This is great!” Tuzren shouted in my ear just above the heavy beat of the Scorpions on the speakers. “You got any cash? I’d love a beer.”
Demons liked beer? Go figure. I handed him a twenty. “Since I’m buying, you can get me a Red Dragon ale.” The demon snatched my cash and flew over to the bar.
Closer to the stairs sat Alaric Kerr and a few other Supes I didn’t recognize. Alaric is the Alpha of the local pack and word has it that his mate is Kira Walker, a computer guru who is a close buddy of Spaz. How she came into the pack is another story. I glanced around until I saw Luna in a booth with a couple of my friends. Her face lit up when she saw me and she waved.
Alaric looked up as I made my way through the crowd. He raised his glass in acknowledgement and went back to talking business with the two men he was with. One was a dark hair creature with pale skin in a tailored suit; obviously a vampire since he was deathly pale. The other looked human, but my magical senses told me he was a type of shifter. What kind, I didn’t know, nor did I really want to find out. I made my way to the table my friends were at.
Luna sat beside her brother, Jimmy. A pretty were, she has blonde hair and yellow eyes, but for some reason unknown to me, she didn’t have control over her shifting yet. Silver agouti hairs covered her otherwise human face, arms, and hands, and I presume the rest of her body. As a result, she couldn’t hold a job—at least a job which dealt with Normals—because her condition freaked people out too much. The pack pretty much took care of her, because that’s what the pack does. Unfortunately, her lack of control made it difficult to find an appropriate suitor among werewolves. See, none of the werewolves wanted a mate who might pass along the lack of control gene.
Her condition made it impossible to find a boyfriend outside of the Supernatural community. And since I didn’t have any girlfriend prospects, we kind of hooked up. I met her in the Denver Zoo of all places, hired along with her pack mates to show Normals what werewolves looked like. Later, she got kidnapped along with four other weres right before I picked her up on our first date. I rescued her and the other weres. Alaric made me an honorary pack member for that.
I liked Luna a lot and there was a fair amount of attraction between us. Her lack of shifting control relegated my love life to times around the new moon, but I didn’t mind so much. The closer she got to the full moon, the wilder she became, which meant she was only safe around her own people.
