Mystical Alley Groove: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (Scions of Magic Book 2) Read online

  Mystical Alley Groove

  Scions of Magic™ Book Two

  TR Cameron

  Michael Anderle

  Martha Carr

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2019 TR Cameron & Michael Anderle

  Cover Art by Jake @ J Caleb Design

  http://jcalebdesign.com / [email protected]

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, December, 2019

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-618-4

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-619-1

  The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-19 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Author Notes - TR Cameron

  Author Notes - Martha Carr

  Other series in the Oriceran Universe:

  Other LMBPN Publishing Books

  Connect with The Authors

  Mystical Alley Groove Team

  Thanks to the Beta Readers

  John Ashmore, Nicole Emens, Kelly O’Donnell, Larry Omans

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Dave Hicks

  Jeff Eaton

  Deb Mader

  Kathleen Fettig

  Diane L. Smith

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Paul Westman

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  Skyhunter Editing Team

  Dedications

  Dedication: For those who seek wonder around every corner and in each turning page. And, as always, for Dylan and Laurel.

  — TR Cameron

  Chapter One

  Caliste Leblanc thrust a vicious jab at the throat of the tall, dark-skinned man across from her. It traveled toward him at a snail’s pace and the muscles in her arm trembled visibly. His block was equally slow, and a look of dramatic horror spread over his face at the realization that it wouldn’t be in time to block the punch.

  The crowd chuckled, then laughed harder at her theatrical expression of triumph. Bills and coins landed in Dasante’s black top hat, which rested on the ground between them and the audience. The scene ended with her fist an inch from his throat and his eyes closed in defeat before they turned together, clasped hands, and bowed.

  Frozen fighting was one of her favorite acts, and in the week or so of normalcy that had followed her adventures with the gangs and the uneasy truce that resulted from them, she’d spent time teaching Dasante how to be her partner. Before, she’d always included whoever was available, but D had learned enough of her secrets that he had become something more to her than he had been. He’d always been a friend but now was a confidant.

  He sat on the ground beside the hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and pushed his wavy black hair away from his face. Even in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, the blazing sun and the under-appreciated level of effort necessary to move so slowly had clearly drained him. Her t-shirt—advertising a David Bowie album cover—was noticeably damp as well above cut-off jean shorts.

  She turned her head at a series of barks nearby and stared at the illusion-veiled Draksa, who appeared to be a Rottweiler rather than the similar-sized Dragon Lizard he truly was. Apparently, a bird nesting in one of the trees on the opposite side of the Jackson Square fence had done something to offend him. “Knock it off, Fyre.”

  He gave her one of his looks—the kind where she could see the mocking expression of his true form shining through the illusion—and continued to bark. Dasante laughed. “I don’t think he’s interested in listening to what you have to say.”

  Cali shook her head. “No one is, really. And it’s sad because I’m so damn smart.”

  Her busking partner chuckled at her self-aggrandizing tone and retrieved the hat. He split the take equally and handed her coins and folded bills. “It wasn’t a bad crowd today.”

  “It was decent. Where are Jen and Jax?” The duo usually performed on this side of the square facing Decatur but was conspicuously absent.

  He shrugged. “They haven’t been around for a few days but didn’t say they were going anywhere. No news has come to my ears.”

  She frowned. Ever since her discovery of the battle for territory taking place in the city, every strange fact that entered her radar made her wonder if it was a symptom of the conflict. It was still slow-moving enough that it hadn’t registered with most people. If they noticed, it was only to cross the street to avoid the occasional tough-looking group acting like wherever they might be at a given moment belonged to them.

  “It’s probably nothing but still, it’s worth keeping an eye out. Maybe ask around if you see any of their friends.” Buskers looked out for each other. She’d always pictured the community as a giant team with individual members constantly trying to one-up each other. Overly competitive folks usually didn’t last long among them. “Let me know if you do.”

  His head swiveled sharply toward her. “Do you think it means something?”

  Cali sighed and stretched her legs out in front of her. The morning session with Sensei Ikehara had been a little more intense than usual, and she definitely felt it. “There’s no way to tell. I’m probably only paranoid.”

  When he grinned, his white teeth were a notable contrast to his dark skin. “It doesn’t mean they’re not after you.”

  The easy comfort they had with each other was never better expressed than in the fact that they could tell one another the dumbest jokes and be assured of a positive result. “Who wouldn’t want to be after this, really?” She gestured at her tanned skin and entirely average figure, which drew a laugh from her companion. Cali wouldn’t win any beauty contests but she was fully comfortable in her own flesh, which was made for running, fighting, and working. Speaking of which…. She pushed to her feet with a groan. “I’ve gotta head back and get ready for work.”

  Fyre barked again a
nd ran to her side, clearly in support of the idea. He’d joined her at the tavern during her shifts, hanging out quietly behind the bar with her boss, Zeb. She was fairly sure the dwarf was feeding him stuff he shouldn’t eat while she was busy serving the customers. It didn’t seem to harm him, though, so she wasn’t about to object. Anything that made two of her favorite people—well, beings—happy couldn’t be bad.

  Dasante laughed at the illusory dog. “I guess he gets bored easily, huh?”

  She grinned. “Maybe we should include him in the next performance. He can chew on your foot.”

  “Good plan, as long as it’s your foot instead.”

  As she moved toward him for the secret handshake they’d adopted, two shouts from farther down the sidewalk stopped her in her tracks. A busker painted gold and wearing a matching wedding dress stood over her partner, who sported the same colors on his skin and tuxedo and lay in an awkward position on the ground.

  The woman yelled, “Hey, get back here, thief!” A bald man in a ratty t-shirt and jeans scrambled across the traffic with a gold purse in his hand.

  Cali ran to the downed golden groom with Fyre at her heels and reached him as he regained his feet. “Rip and run?”

  He nodded, and his partner said, “It’s not a big deal. I was surprised but there is only a couple of days’ worth in there.” Her face suggested it was a bigger thing than her words described.

  She growled annoyance. “I’ll get him.”

  They both shook their heads. “You don’t need to. We’ll be fine.”

  Her glance slid to Fyre, who stared after the running thief with his muscles trembling. As always, she was glad to see they were of like mind. “I know you will. Right after we teach that jerk a lesson. No one gets away with that kind of nonsense when I’m around.” The Draksa dashed forward toward where the man had disappeared into the trees near Café du Monde, and she pounded after him.

  The moment they rounded the corner into the parking area behind the restaurant, Fyre launched himself up to the roof of the long building. She muttered and increased her pace. Without him to lead her, she’d have to get into the visual range of the thief, who was currently halfway down the row of cars. Damn, he’s fast. I wonder if he’s using magic? Discovering whether her own powers could be used to increase her speed or strength was on her magical to-do list, but it was fairly far down in the ranked priorities. When he vaulted a low wall and scrambled back toward the city, she lost sight of him again. She lowered her head and pushed forward at her top velocity.

  Cali skidded around the corner on Dumaine Street and narrowly avoided a collision with a group of laughing pedestrians who made their way from the nearby trolley stop. The flash of her quarry’s red shirt on the other side of the road and to the right caught her eye in the same moment that Fyre glided over her head toward the rooftop diagonally across the intersection. She assumed he had veiled himself since most of the passersby stared at her rather than the small dragon or Rottweiler that soared over them.

  Her path was blocked by a tall iron gate when she entered the narrow alley. Three-story-high buildings lined it to the left, and a two-story wall made up the right side. She caught hold of the bars and yanked, knowing it would be locked but needing to try anyway. With a sigh, she climbed and used force blasts to carry her the final foot over the sharp points on the top and prevent her from major impact with the ground below. She landed hard, rolled, and came up running again. Irritation surged through her at the new tear in her t-shirt.

  An opening yawned ahead on the right, and she was about to curl into it when Fyre roared a warning. She slid instead, unable to arrest her momentum, and heard the staccato barks of a pistol and the sound of the bullets whistling over her head. Her momentum careened her past the gap and she bounced up again, her bare legs scraped from the grinding contact with the rough asphalt of the alley. Counting on the unlikelihood of a street tough having the expensive ammunition that could ignore magic, she summoned a full-body force shield and held it before her as she darted around the corner.

  He immediately unloaded several more shots into the barrier, then seemed panicked as he turned again to run. The building ahead appeared to have been an industrial space before it was converted to apartments, and clothes hung on lines on the porches that covered the back wall. He disappeared into a door at the bottom, and she stalked carefully toward it. Fyre landed on the roof high above. She looked up and gave him a nod of approval. He’ll watch the outside so the jerk can’t escape. They’d decided that was the best strategy to avoid revealing his true nature if his veil slipped. She didn’t want to play that card until it was truly essential. It’s time to explain to the idiot that stealing is bad.

  She pushed through the scratched metal barrier into a narrow hallway that ran to another door on the opposite wall. An opening between took up the middle of the building, and she crept warily forward to discover a staircase leading up on each side. She jogged partially up the one to the right, stuck her head out to peer upward, and caught a flash of red on the top floor. With another sigh, she followed carefully, speed no longer essential. At times like this, I wish I had a radio to coordinate with Fyre. He could go in a window and chase the jerk out for me.

  Cali cleared the second level without incident but noticed a strange shimmer near the switchback halfway up toward the third. She slid her hands behind her back and commanded her red-etched black bracelets to become her magical Escrima sticks. They vibrated as energy flowed into them after the grips slipped into her palms, sipping her power to refuel for the next transformation. She kept her eyes defocused and her attention wide and detected the attack before it could strike. A blast of shadow magic met her crossed weapons and dissipated. She threw the left-hand stick at the source and an illusion dropped to reveal a man casting another spell at her.

  She ducked and rolled forward under the burst of force magic that rippled the air over her head. Her body straightened in time to block the shadow knife he stabbed at her with a frantic swipe of her stick. The quarters were too close for planning and too close for anything other than immediate action. She planted her left fist in his stomach and the breath whooshed from him. A step back gave her room to kick, and she drove her foot up toward his groin.

  He blocked it with a downward punch that hurt more than it should have—force shield around the hand, ow—and launched a back fist at her nose. With stairs behind her, all she could do was drop to the floor, and his follow-up knee strike connected with her shoulder and dislodged her right-hand stick. Unfortunately for him, her Aikido training emphasized groundwork.

  Her hand snaked out to grasp his shin and she used it as a lever to pull herself around him, lock both his legs, and bring him down with one quick yank. Before he could react, his neck was trapped between her crossed calves and his air supply cut off. He battered at her, but his punches lacked power. When he managed enough brainpower to summon his magical blade again, she blocked it with a force shield. He passed out, and it was only when she released him that the true import of the short battle hit her mind.

  This isn’t the guy I was chasing. Which means he has friends, which means this is an ambush. A clatter as doors banged open above and below her position on the stairs confirmed her realization.

  Chapter Two

  On the assumption that there were two floors’ worth of potential adversaries behind her but only one above, Cali raced up the remaining half-flight of stairs and called her sticks back to her hands. She raised them in an X as she cleared the stairwell and intercepted an arc of lightning that coalesced around them before it vanished. “Nice trick.”

  The hoodie-wearing caster made no reply and merely launched another electrical barrage, this one aimed at the floor beneath her. She leapt to avoid the possibility of the boards collapsing beneath her feet and her trajectory took her toward her attacker. His magic crackled ominously but she cleared it easily it to land a short distance away from him. She broke into an immediate run and stabbed her left stick a
t his solar plexus as a feint before she swung the right one in a hard, lateral strike from outside.

  He blocked the first with a downward swipe of his free hand and managed to place his opposite forearm in the way of the second. A loud crack signaled at least a fracture, and he howled in immediate pain. She used the moment of distraction to dispatch him with a front kick to the center of his body that stole his breath and dropped him into a crumpled heap. Damn. I need to carry rope or a tranquilizer or something. One more thing on the to-do list.

  Her brief concern over how to ensure his non-participation in the rest of the fight was blown away by the force blast that caught her squarely in the back. She catapulted down the hallway but managed to raise her hands and twist her body in time to take the impact with the far wall—originally twenty feet distant—on her side rather than her face.

  Cali fought against the continued pressure of the spell to position her sticks in the way, and as they crossed, the assault faltered. She slid down the wall to the floor, held her defense before her, and identified three attackers. The woman in the front wore a hoodie that was apparently the Atlantean gang’s uniform, and her hair and skin were both dusky in the minimal light provided by the pair of bare bulbs hanging overhead. The defeat of her attack had brought a snarl to her face.