Excerpt: Community Service

Broken Mirrors, Book 3

The King is dead, long live the King. And, uh, could you float him a couple bucks?

Life as the only human sorcerer isn’t all it’s cracked up to be for James Black, the Lightning Rod. Between gremlins in the closet, paladins crashing through skylights and working spells in a storage locker, hunting a body-hopping spirit is a welcome distraction. If only he didn’t have to partner with a Coyote.

After being punted to the curb by his roommate (with benefits), things are looking dire for trickster Spencer Crain, until an old friend offers him a shot at a big score scamming the best of marks: a vampire. Thing is, he’ll have to work with his worst enemy to pull it off.

With lives in the balance, James is learning the hard way what being a sorcerer really means—and that he picked a hell of a time to quit smoking. Spencer is faced with the choice between his future and his friends. Yeah, like he’s never seen that movie before…

Currently Available as a PWYW in the City Bundle

Chapter One
James
“Jimmy?” The voice is small and frightened.
On the TV, The Late Show is only halfway into the opening monologue. I yawn, stretch and look over at the source of my broken reverie. She’s short, dark-complexioned; has black hair tightly braided, dark eyes; is wearing pajamas with a big pink pony surrounded by cupcakes on the front.
“Yeah, sweetie, what is it?” It doesn’t take much effort to not sound annoyed. Sharon’s daughter isn’t difficult to babysit. I only have to remind her a couple times to brush her teeth and eat the dinner her mother left. Then it’s an hour and a half of cartoons and bed at eight thirty. Easy money, really.
“There’s a monster in my closet.”
I should have expected this. She’s only seven, and I remember being terrified by any number of things when I was her age. With her dad deployed overseas and her mom at work, it falls to me to deal with the monster problem. This is my first experience with this from the other side though, so I have two options: handle it like my mother did and tell her stories from Irish folklore and the innumerable rules of the Fair Folk until she falls asleep, or handle it like my father and “chase the monster away”. Only one of these options will get me back to The Late Show before the special guest comes on.
I get up off the couch and smile reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Tessa, I’ll make it go away.” I offer her my hand, but she elects to stay behind me while I head into her room. It’s dark, obviously, but even her nightlight's out, so I can guess why she panicked. I flick the switch on and off several times. Nothing.
Crap, bulb must’ve burned out.
Well, to be honest, I didn’t believe my dad when he turned on the lights to show me that my closet was empty and there was nothing under my bed. The monsters only came out when it was dark, after all, and I wasn’t about to listen to Dad’s silly logic on the matter.
“Okay, sweetie, you get into bed, under the covers all the way, and I’ll make the monster go away, all right?”
She nods, grabbing a purple plush unicorn and hugging it tightly in one arm, while she tugs the covers over her head. Yep, kid logic—if I’m completely under the covers, they can’t get me.
Might as well not stall. I do need her to be asleep when her mother gets home if I want to keep this job, considering Sharon finds me creepy. Most people do. (The white streak in my otherwise red hair doesn’t help matters.) I cross to the closet, the door slightly ajar, and I pull it open, the hinges giving an eerie creak as I’m treated to the view of a rack of hangers with clothes and pajamas, a backpack hanging on a door hook…
…and a three-foot-tall, implike creature—grayish-black skin, a long hook nose, longer pointed ears, glowing yellow eyes, bony tail, and clawed hands and feet—sitting in a hunched position on top of Christian-themed board games.
Damn it.
Slowly, deliberately, I kneel, now eye to eye with the creature. It bares its claws, hissing loudly, showing a row of needle teeth. Considering that it didn’t come out of the closet to go after Tessa, I have to assume it can’t leave it. Maybe it needs to be invited? I have no idea. I’m relatively new to my job.
Not babysitting, that’s just moonlighting. I have another job with a specific skill set.
I bring my right hand in front of me, making sure it’s not visible (from the bed), in case Tessa is watching. With a slow exhale, I let my will flow into my fingers, thick jagged arcs of electricity jumping across my palm. “Boy, did you pick the wrong closet.”
Its eyes go wide, and it makes a tiny squeak of fear.
“Do you know who I am?”
It nods very quickly.
“Who am I?”
Its voice is rough, breathy, jagged like broken glass, but it speaks in Sigil, the language of magic, and it hurts my ears. “Keth.” It trembles in terror. “Sorcerer.”
This is why most people find me creepy. Sorcerers aren’t supposed to be real, so normal people tend to see me as someone to generally avoid.
Also, I’m a little relieved that the creature got it wrong. I don’t like advertising the full extent of my title. “Correct. Now, what do you think I’m going to tell you to do?”
I keep the electricity jumping between my fingers, the sound of crackles and pops intensifying to drive the point home. It’s sort of draining to be this showy. I could tap a few things in the room to fuel the working, but then I’d have to explain to Tessa (and her mother) why half of her dresser and three of her toys evaporated, and like I said, I want to keep this job.
It shrieks suddenly, and the darkness of the closet behind it spreads as it attempts to escape into the black. I snatch it by the neck, the creature screaming in pain as the lightning in my hand races through its body. Its voice devolves into a language I can’t understand as it thrashes, attempts to free itself, the electrical current keeping its limbs seized.
“Yield! Yield! Yield!” The pool of darkness vanishes as I drop it onto the Bible version of Scrabble, and it immediately clasps its hands in supplication.
Wasn’t expecting that, honestly.
The yield, not the Bible edition of Scrabble. Since I started babysitting for Sharon, I’ve learned that there are Bible editions of everything.
“I don’t buy it.” I’ve played a certain game before that definitely does not have a Bible edition, and when confronting imps and demons in that game, one of the easiest ways said creatures have of fooling a sorcerer is to make them think they’ve won. “A few jolts of electricity and you want to play Let’s Make a Deal?”
“Utrix tells truth! No want anger Keth!” Its voice is even worse when it attempts English.
“And you’d give up your name to a sorcerer that easily? You’re not very good at this, are you?”
A reason most non-normal people aren’t fond of sorcerers is what we can do with names. If Utrix is really its name, I could change it into whatever else I know the name of, like say, a bunny rabbit or a statue of Merv Griffin carved from Vermont cheddar cheese. Well, I could if I knew the name of such things. Mostly, all I could threaten this creature with is turning it into an order of French fries.
It continues to tremble like a puppy left out in the cold, even whimpering. Fine, we’ll see if it is that inept.
I focus my will and let my tongue shape the words in Sigil. “Utrix, you is go away now. Come back here no time ever or you is hurt long time.”
Utrix tilts its head, confused. “Utrix not understand.”
Perhaps I should mention that just because I’m a sorcerer, it doesn’t mean I’m good at it.
Sigil is a complicated language. It sounds like English coming out, but it’s nothing like it. As a result I have the magical vocabulary of a five-year-old and the grammar of a typical Internet commenter.
“I’ll turn you into a head of Romaine lettuce if you don’t leave and never come back. Understand that?”
Now I have its attention. But instead of vanishing into darkness, it shrieks again and dashes out of the closet and into the living room, where the lights promptly go out.
“Damn it!” I head into the living room and look back at the huddled lump on the bed. “Stay under the covers and don’t open the door until I come back.” I wince. “And, uh, don’t tell your mother I used profanity.”
I shut the door and turn to face the living room, where the TV is still on, glowing softly, The Late Show into the interview, filling the room with inane banter while some movie star hawks a children’s book they wrote. The rest of the apartment is split into the living room with a kitchenette sequestered by a half-wall, the bathroom, and Sharon’s bedroom. A check of the clock makes it worse, considering Sharon’s shift ended five minutes ago, and it should take her fifteen more minutes to get home. I get the feeling if I’m caught demon-hunting in her apartment I won’t be called back to babysit ever again.
I fish out my necklace from inside my shirt, a clear cylindrical stone with six cut sides, all etched with ancient symbols. A screaming diamond, it’s called, a relic of an ancient world, and for me, a nice battery for magic. Activating it causes it to glow, however. Hence why I didn’t use it in Tessa’s room, but I’m alone out here now.
I exhale, focusing my will, and whisper a simple spell. “Light.”
The stone fills the room with its lambent glow and casts shadows. I turn off the TV to diminish the sound to only my movement, the ambient sound of the City beyond the closed windows and, hopefully, the movements of Utrix. No scuttling or scurrying sounds, so I assume it’s hiding. Best go room to room, I guess.
I cross to the bathroom, avoiding the couch and coffee table where it could hide and rake my legs with those claws. I scared it, but that doesn’t mean it’s any safer to deal with. I certainly wouldn’t want to be turned into salad ingredients, after all.
The bathroom is minimalist, a sink, a toilet and a shower stall. I check the ceiling first, because I’ve seen the occasional horror movie, then the rest. All good. Rather than lift the toilet lid, I press down hard on it and flush, the sound of rushing water normal, uninterrupted. Bathroom’s clear. I close the door behind me and head on to the master bedroom.
Sharon’s room is simple, narrow aisles around the double bed, a closet with three doors lines the wall opposite the door. The decorations are Spartan, only a crucifix hanging over the headboard. A test of the light switch reveals the power’s not on in here either.
“Y’know, I don’t really want to hurt you. I just want you to leave.” I take a deep breath and kneel, checking under the bed, the light from my necklace revealing a vast array of plastic storage bins. “Isn’t there someone else you could traumatize by hiding in their closet? Like a pedophile or a serial killer or that guy who overuses ‘ironic’ even though he clearly has no idea what it means?”
I have pet peeves, I’ll admit. At least I didn’t mention people who constantly use air quotes or talk at the theater.
It’s silent out in the living room, no panicked screams from Tessa, so I’ve got that going for me. Maybe it just found a dark place to hide and escaped? With any luck, I intimidated it enough that it won’t return.
I open the first door of Sharon’s closet—storage bins, winter clothes, a few textbooks on restaurant management. Sharon’s been going to night school. Good for her. Good for me, too, since she’ll need a sitter more often, provided I don’t let her daughter get eaten by an imp. I move on to the next door, just clothes, nothing else. I pull open the last, more storage bins and…
The imp shrieks in fear as it dashes past me toward the living room. I roll across the bed to keep up with it, my necklace swinging and bouncing about from all the quick movement. The light shines everywhere but where I’m going, and I stub my toe on the corner of the couch and fall flat on my face just as the front door opens.
“Close the door! Close the—”
Too late, Utrix slips by and out into the hall, screeching the whole while.
“Damn it.” I bang my head against the floor in frustration before looking up at the front door as the lights come back on.
Standing there is a man at five foot six - only a couple of inches shorter than me - slim build, wearing a tailored suit all in black, even the shirt and tie. His skin is pale, eyes gray, hair ebon and cut stylishly short. Just his presence makes me feel cold, but considering he’s the god of the underworld, it’s to be expected.
“There’s a legal matter I need you to look into.”
He’s also my attorney.
Hades glances into the hall, and then at me where I’m still on the floor. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
“I was chasing a… I have no idea.” I find my way to my feet, grumbling. “Had it cornered until you showed up.”
He nods curtly. “Yes, that appeared to be the case.” He reaches into his jacket and produces a manila folder. “Please be certain to mark down any time you’re working on this. Billing is quite strict.”
I take the folder. “I’m getting paid for this?”
“No, I’m getting paid for this. This is getting written up toward your sentence.” He flashes a million-dollar smile. Dick.
I was sentenced by Hades to two hundred hours of community service for breaking into a secure facility and ending the world. I don’t see the big deal. I only went to the roof and didn’t see or steal anything. And the new world is still pretty shiny. I’m surprised he’s bringing it up, actually. It hasn’t been mentioned since I was sentenced eighteen months ago. I figured he’d forgotten about it.
“And the…thing that just got away?”
Hades leans back into the hallway for a second. “Mister Cerberus is currently fighting with himself over it.”
“What?”
He shrugs. “Gremlins are high in protein.”
“That was a gremlin?” I process the rest of the sentence. “Oh God. He’s not… Is he?”
One of the upsides is that as far as humanity is concerned, sorcerers, gods, gremlins, dragons, vampires, werewolves, what have you, none of it exists to them. So, when confronted with the sight of something that shouldn’t exist, like say, a three-headed man eating a creature alive, they’ll just see it as something else, like an obese man tearing into a bucket of fried chicken.
Hades nods. “Of course. It’s in his job description. Speaking of jobs…” He points at the folder in my hand. “I’d like this matter settled, so feel free to bring in help if you’d like.”
Well, Spencer will likely be up for it as long as it doesn’t involve the walking dead.
The god reaches into his pocket and takes out a cigarette, lighting it. “I’d recommend against the Coyote.”
I quirk a brow. “How’d you know I was going to—”
“I know everything.” He takes a long drag on his cigarette and exhales the smoke into the air, smiling as he does. He knows I’m trying to quit. For the ninth time. Asshole.
“Fine, great, whatever. Would you two mind leaving? Sharon will be back any minute.” I thumb through the thick file, but it’s all in Sigil and will likely take a couple hours to understand.
“Babysitting.” He sighs in disappointment. “The Ra’keth is watching over children for five bucks an hour.”
“Six.” I shrug. “Plus I can raid the fridge.”
He shakes his head and turns to the door.
“Wait, tonight’s still on, right?”
The summer solstice starts at midnight. One of the reasons I agreed to babysit (in addition to money) is that I needed an easy way to kill time so I wouldn’t spend the evening watching the clock. But it’s worth it. Long-distance relationships take a lot of work, especially when the distance covers the space between the land of the living and the underworld.
“Has a visit ever been cancelled? That’s part of the deal and I always uphold my agreements.” He looks back at me. “Some free advice: get a better job, James. Perhaps outside the service industry?”
Hades closes the door behind him, and I grumble, but he’s right. Washing dishes and watching someone’s kid while they study their way to a better career isn’t going to get me into my own apartment.
Sure, I could conjure up a few stacks of hundred-dollar bills, but magic’s kind of a bitch in that regard. Anything I conjure is constructed
from memory, and while I do have a lovely memory of getting a fifty-dollar bill for Christmas one year, I would be conjuring the exact same bill. Right down to the serial number. Eventually I’d end up in jail for counterfeiting. Besides, making phony money would be a sin, and I’m not keen on going to hell.
I return to Tessa’s room and try to put on a convincing smile. “You can come out, it’s safe. The monster’s gone. It won’t scare you anymore.”
She peeks out from under the covers, clutching the purple unicorn as she looks around, and then squeals, diving back under the covers.
“What?”
“It’s still there!” She whimpers, muffled by the comforter over her head, but she slips a hand out to point at the closet.
Did Utrix escape? I inspect the closet closely, but there’s nothing there. Can it become invisible? I know there are spells to see through illusions, but I’d have to crib them from that certain game I’ve been known to play. “Where is it? I don’t see it.”
She peeks out and points more specifically. I follow her finger to find…
“This?” I blink several times and try not to chuckle. “Tessa, sweetie, this is your coat.” I smooth it out and push it back into the closet, where it had been sticking out at an odd angle. “It’s nothing to be scared of.”
“Oh.” Now she’s embarrassed, but I’m more relieved she didn’t see the gremlin that was actually in her closet. Kid doesn’t need any nightmare fuel.
“Okay, your mommy should be home any minute and you’re supposed to be asleep. I won’t tell if you won’t.”
She nods readily, and I tuck her in before leaving, her nightlight glowing on the wall. Outside her room, I hear the door open, Sharon’s voice coming through the doorway. “I’m home. Jimmy?”
I head into the living room. “Just checking on her. She’s asleep.”
Sharon is in her mid thirties, Mediterranean complexion, bleached hair tied back in a tight bun, for efficiency more than anything, dark eyes. She’s still in her waitress uniform and looks exhausted, frankly. Between waitressing at the same diner where I wash dishes, doing final count-outs on the drawer, and now night school, I’m amazed she’s still mobile. She fishes a few bills out of her pocket, peeling off singles from her daily tips before handing them to me. “I’ll get you the rest tomorrow, all right?”
I nod. “Not a problem, really. Thanks for letting me do this.”
She shrugs. “She likes you, Jimmy, and I’m grateful for the help. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, okay?” She yawns, stretching before heading toward Tessa’s room. She stops, sniffing the air, and turns to give me a mother’s glare.
“James Black, were you smoking?”
Shit.