Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser Series Book 5) (15 page)

“Yeah,” I interrupted. “Name calling isn’t exactly diplomatic, sixteenth century.”

“I was simply stating the truth,” Warner said. “But you don’t bring a dragon and a vampire to a dance club and expect diplomacy either.”

Kett laughed.

“Don’t you get started,” I snapped at him. He was still standing way too close to the girl I thought might be the amplifier. “Again.”

He shrugged, but lifted only one shoulder in an attempt to ape that human gesture. Between him and Warner, I was ready to swear they were going to drive me batty. I found myself wishing Kandy were there.

“There was too much magic in the room,” Kett said. “Including yours, dowser.”

“You knew that going in.”

“Indeed. My control is not as it once was.”

“Don’t play the London card with me!”

“We’re not going to stand here while you bicker, lady,” the nullifier said. He was rubbing his chest. “You attacked us!”

“Lady? Who the hell are you calling a lady?” Next thing, he’d be calling me ‘ma’am.’ Then things were going to get nasty.

“Actually,” Warner said, raising an arm to quell my desire to gouge the guy’s eyes out, “you attacked first.”

“After he grabbed Cicely!” the nullifier shouted and pointed toward the wide-set-eyed girl, who I was starting to think really wasn’t okay because she hadn’t spoken yet.

I sighed, loudly and deliberately. “You bring me to the best parties, vampire.”

The trio froze. Prey-in-the-headlights stock-still. Even the guy’s arm remained suspended in the air, hanging there as if he was afraid of putting it down.

“What?” I asked, still attempting to defuse the tension. Covered in foam and with nary a cupcake in sight, though, I was feeling completely off my game. “No one noticed the vampire?”

The amplifier — Cicely — flung her hands up over her head and somehow managed to clamp them on either side of Kett’s face behind her.

Peppermint magic exploded all around them. Kett stumbled. Cicely twisted away from him, ran toward her friends, and pulled a gun out of her etched bag.

A gun.

She pressed back between Paprika and the nullifier, shaking almost uncontrollably as she alternated pointing the gun at Kett, Warner, and me. I couldn’t tell if her tremor was from nerves or from the magical toll of whatever she’d just done to Kett.

The vampire shook his head. Then he shook it way harder. “Impressive,” he murmured, closing the gap between us so Cicely didn’t have to swing the gun so wide.

“What is that supposed to be?” Warner asked, not sounding the least bit concerned. Of course, it helped that he looked like a million bucks while the rest of us resembled foam-covered rats.

“A gun,” I answered. “A human weapon. I don’t know what kind. I’ve never seen one in person before.”

“Canadian,” the nullifier sneered. “That’s the accent.”

“The true north strong and free,” I said agreeably. He didn’t get the reference.

“It’s a Smith & Wesson,” Kett said. “An M&P Shield. A striker-fired, polymer 9 mm pistol. The safety is built into the trigger. Lightweight. A good choice to carry concealed, though I doubt she has the permit to do so.”

I stared at Mr. Know-It-All. Cicely started to sneer some retort — probably about the permit — but then snapped her mouth shut on whatever she was going to say.

“How can an Adept not be aware that I can simply reach out and take her toy?” Warner asked, unintentionally — but still extremely — intimidating.

My boyfriend, the accidental badass. “It fires bullets,” I said. “Bullets are fast.”

Warner snorted.

Cicely pressed the trigger halfway. Paprika placed her right hand on the amplifier’s shoulder, then her left hand actually burst into flames.

“Well, that confirmed you’re the amplifier,” I said.

“One step closer,” Paprika hissed.

I waited a beat. “Oh, that’s it? I thought you were going to say something witty or sarcastic.” Where was Diplomats-R-Us when you needed them? Not here, obviously.

Cicely leveled the gun on me.

“Yes,” Kett said. “Shooting the dowser is the best choice. The only choice.”

“Kett!” I cried.

“The bullet won’t slow me,” Kett continued, nonplused.

“I will,” Paprika snarled. Ashy magic filled my mouth and I resisted the urge to spit it out. Geez, I hated swallowing.

“The dragon’s magic will likely cause a misfire,” Kett coolly assessed.

The trio looked at Warner. Dragon either meant nothing to them, in which case he was a complete unknown. Or, he was a myth standing before them, and they were starting to wonder if the entire confrontation was all happening in their heads.

“Magic in this concentration,” I said, practically grinding my teeth as I gestured around us, “will cause the gun to explode in her hand. That’s the most likely outcome.”

Kett smiled and inclined his head, as if he was ceding the point to me.

I glared at him, then spoke to Cicely. “You can feel the magic in the room, can’t you?”

Cicely slowly nodded.

“And what if I were to tell you that the vampire and the dragon are experts at dampening their magical signatures. And that I wear a personal shield to help contain my own?”

“Except on the dance floor,” Kett added.

“Well, that was the point!”

Cicely bit her lip. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice was less childish than her appearance. Under the full fluorescent lights of the club, they were all older than I’d thought them. My age, at least.

“You, of course,” Kett said.

Cicely didn’t lower the gun — and neither would I, if a vampire said that to me.

“Kett, don’t tease.” Except I wasn’t entirely sure he was teasing.

Warner reached into the pocket of his jeans and flipped something into the air over the trio. It flashed gold as it spun up, then down, reflecting the overhead light.

A gold coin.

At the last possible second, Paprika snatched it out of the air. She turned it in her fingers, showing her companions. I realized at once how green, untested, and ignorant the three of them were. First, stupid enough to touch me. Then, silly enough to grab an unknown item out of the air. Even I hadn’t been that dumb when first confronted by a vampire. Well …

“You’re for hire, aren’t you?” Warner asked as he flipped two more coins toward the trio.

The nullifier caught one. Paprika caught the second.

“What is this?” the nullifier sneered. “Some joke? Gold coins from a guy who calls himself a dragon?”

Kett laughed, completely involuntarily.

I joined him. “That’s pretty funny, sixteenth century,” I said. “You know, because dragons hoard gold.”

“More practical than funny,” Warner said huffily. Then he turned to lay a blazing smile on me. My knees turned to goo, but I refused to acknowledge this with a gun trained on me.

“Even if it’s gold,” the nullifier continued, “what the hell are we supposed to do with it? It’s not American dollars.”

We all stared at the moron. He stared back, mouth still open as if he was jeering us while he waited for an answer.

Cicely cleared her throat apologetically. Paprika elbowed nullifier-guy in the ribs.

“What?” he asked.

“We exchange it, idiot,” his orange-swathed friend hissed.

Warner reached out and took the gun. A second later, Cicely reacted to the loss of her weapon with a shriek.

The sentinel turned the Smith & Wesson 9 mm around in his hands. Kett stepped over to peer at it as well. They completely ignored the trio, all of who turned too-large and way-scared eyes on me.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “Immortals get bored quickly.” With the situation vaguely defused, I attempted to rid my hair and outfit of as much foam as possible without a shower and a washing machine.

Something plastic snapped. Warner let out a disappointed huff. “I wanted to see the bullets.”

“You broke my gun,” Cicely said. “I didn’t even see you move.” Brave woman, finding her voice so quickly. I might have misjudged her earlier silence.

“I’m sure the gold will cover its replacement,” Warner said, looking to me for confirmation.

“You broke my gun,” Cicely repeated.

“You’ve broken the amplifier,” I said to Warner, gesturing toward the wide-set-eyed woman as she visibly stopped herself from repeating the bit about her gun a third time. I also narrowed my eyes to express my disappointment with Kett.

“She didn’t return my phone call,” Kett said. He’d taken the gun from Warner and was trying to fit the broken pieces back together.

“I was taking a sick day,” Cicely said.

“Plus, there’s like a three-month waiting list,” Paprika said. “That’s if we decide to take you on as a client.”

“Well,” Kett said, “if the dowser wasn’t here, I could have simply snatched the amplifier and killed the two of you. That would have been much smoother. And more satisfying.”

“Less boring,” Warner said agreeably.

Oh, God. I didn’t need those two in cahoots with each other.

Paprika opened her mouth, but I interrupted her before she could speak. “Please don’t say, ‘Why don’t you try it?’ I’m covered in foam and getting hungry. And I’m the nice one.”

She snapped her mouth closed.

Now we were getting somewhere.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The trio, fronted by Cicely, led us along empty sidewalks and through quiet industrial streets to a derelict warehouse about three blocks away from the underground club. They whispered between them for the entire walk, hastily dissecting the events that had transpired at the club and cobbling together a plan on how to deal with us now.

Apparently, they were unaware that the dragon and vampire behind them could hear every word. I didn’t bother to try to listen in, beyond the few words that filtered through.

The warehouse appeared to be empty from the outside and wasn’t magically warded. Even the soft moonlight that now filtered through the skyscraper-filled backdrop couldn’t prettify the peeling paint and boarded windows. I would have thought a hunk of real estate this close to the waterfront in San Francisco would have been way too pricey to sit half-abandoned.

The interior of the warehouse was littered with broken pallets, piles of blackened rope, and worn-out buoys. Three derelict fishing boats occupied the large main room. A lofted second floor ran the length of the back of the warehouse.

After unlocking an exterior side door, Cicely cut immediately right to a narrow set of wooden stairs. We climbed up to the loft, from where we could look down and see the fishing boats.

We passed a bathroom at the top of the stairs that scared me into not needing to pee, even by the muted moonlight filtering through its cracked window.

“Which one of you?” Cicely asked, rather abruptly, as she unlocked a paint-challenged, grimy glass-windowed door and led us into what appeared to be a makeshift office.

Again, I couldn’t taste any magic, not one single ward on the door, windows, or building.

“I don’t even know what sort of magic he wields,” the amplifier continued, eyeing Warner distrustfully. “And I’m guessing you’re a witch of some sort. Dowser, they called you. You need help finding something?”

“All expenses paid,” Paprika said as she threw herself onto a faded couch against the wall to the right of the door. Even in the low light of the single shoddily wired fixture in the center of the ceiling, I could see a cloud of dust rise up around her. “Hotel. Travel. For all three of us.”

An electrical cord ran through the rafters from the light to an outlet on the far left wall. The desk was actually propped up at one corner by a column of ancient phonebooks. Three mismatched chairs that looked as though they’d been salvaged from the dump completed the dingy decor.

“Three-month waiting list,” I muttered as I glanced around. “Right.” I caught Kett’s gaze.

“A lifetime of education is direly needed here,” he said. “About magic and etiquette.”

“Not our circus,” I said. “Not our monkeys.”

Kett nodded. Well, he tipped his chin about a millimeter, so I took that as agreement. The trio was going to have to find their own way in the world of the Adept. And make plenty of mistakes while doing so. Just like we all did … well, just like I did.

Warner snorted as he cased the room, then followed the smell of burnt coffee through a door to the back and right of the desk. I hazarded a guess that this led to a break room of some sort, and shuddered to think of seeing it in the daylight.

“I’m the client,” Kett said. His cool tone cut through the shabby atmosphere just by being completely at odds with it.

This really wasn’t what Cicely wanted to hear.

“How could we help a vampire?” the nullifier sneered.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” I asked before fangs were dropped and knives were pulled. “And you?” I looked at the orange-swathed fire wielder, who was so moronically confident she was lounging on a couch. Oblivious to — or in spite of — the two predators and an unknown ‘witch’ standing in her office. “It’s silly to enter into verbal contracts with people you don’t even know.”

They all exchanged glances.

I stifled a sigh. Kett was right, maybe we should school them … maybe just a tiny teachable moment … like about the wisdom of leaving the hall door hanging open behind three Adepts of unknown power, who — as soon as Warner took two more steps — occupied the entire center of the room. We were unencumbered by furniture or other bodies. They had no perimeter or defensive positioning.

Yeah. I thought about things like that now.

“Smells like fish in here,” Warner said, curling his lip as he returned from the break room.

“You like sushi,” I said placatingly. Then I let the teachable moment dissipate from my mind and attitude. “Look, I’m Jade. This is Warner and Kett. I caught Cicely’s name. I can just keep calling you Not-So-Ordinary and Paprika if you want to be babies about it.”

Paprika sneered and opened her mouth as if she was intent on continuing her stupid streak, but Cicely interrupted.

“Ash is on the couch,” the amplifier said.

Of course the fire wielder had a cute nickname.

“I’m Dave,” the guy said. So Not-So-Ordinary guy had a completely ordinary name. Not surprising.