Swift (Strangetown Magic Book 1) (2 page)

I am the Law.

Sorry, but I've always wanted to say that. Yes, I read too much Judge Dredd when it came out. Besides, I don't like to lose, and there is protection as a Justice. But you cannot fail; no second chances. Leaving a job unresolved means you are out, on your own, no longer part of the team. I needed the protection and sanctuary of my own kind, and I sure as hell needed somewhere to lie down right about now.

No rest for the wicked.

"Oi," squeaked Mack as I stuffed him in the pocket of my cargo vest. I took a final drag of my cigar, stubbed it out on the floor and pocketed the butt—mustn't litter—then ran away like a wuss as the elf controlling the troll let out a high-pitched cry and several tons of mobile rock came charging toward me, knocking over lampposts and kicking abandoned cars out of the way as it blindly obeyed its master.

Some days I really wish I hadn't got out of bed.

Ties That Bind

Have I introduced myself properly? No? I'm Swift. Yes, that's it. There was another name, a Normal name, but that's long gone, in the past and not who I am now, or who I have been for centuries.

Only family knows that name, and there isn't much in the way of that. I'm not even sure if I've said it since I was a child, and half the time it's a struggle to remember. This is the issue with being over five hundred years old—there's only so much room in the noggin, so some things have to go. You can't remember it all, the span is too long and the human mind isn't wired that way.

So if we meet and I don't remember you, then sorry, but it's just genetic, not personal.

My job? It was good, really good, for a long time. One of the main Justices for the Queen. Not, "The Queen", Her Majesty of the United Kingdom, but Queen Witch, some might say Queen Bitch, but not if they value their life, so no telling!

She's fair, but harsh, and for my entire life I've been part of her inner circle. Ultimately, I answer to her and nobody else. We all do. I do my work, I make things right, and I get left alone.

It all went wrong with the Rift and since then things have been, shall we say, different. For the longest time being a Justice had real perks. I met a lot of interesting people, had my independence, took no nonsense from anyone apart from the big boss, and even got paid.

Now it's not so easy, and there are a lot of haters. Humans disappeared when our guests arrived, taken to places they would never survive, and many blame the new arrivals for this.

We were accepted, we were welcomed, we were members of society as long as we towed the line just like everyone else. Meaning no using magic to do anything illegal, which is fair enough but a little annoying, and now half the country wants me and my kind dead. We are no longer magical human beings, we are lumped in with those that came through the Rift. Strange.

I kind of like it. Who wants to conform? But it makes going on trips a little awkward, and don't even get me started on the banking. I do it all online now, it's less hassle.

All this chaos that has built and built, fracturing our society here and across the globe, it's been a real eye-opener. Some people are downright mean. They want to build walls, erect fences, make "safe-zones" and segregate anything not purely human and Normal. But many, the majority, have just got on with things, and truth be told it has done the world economy no end of good. More products to produce, new stuff for our visitors. It's all good in the end.

It's understandable that this is a shock. People are scared for their lives, for their jobs—and rightly so—their families and their futures. Reactions have been extreme.

It makes my job that much harder, but, as I said, failure is not an option.

So I kept running from the troll and the damn elf handler, mean sods that they are. I, along with everyone else, hate what they have brought to our side along with their golden good looks and entrancing sexual chemistry. Oh, and their hair is to die for, sometimes literally.

The dark elves are worse than any other species I have ever encountered. They are here and stuck and they are cruel. They want what is ours, what is humanity's, and they mean to have it.

A mess, right?

So give me a little sympathy as I try to make good on the job I was given. Things were, to put it bluntly, a bit shitty at the moment.

Back to the impending squished-Swift vs elf and troll issue.

Dealing With the Haters

The park was nice, with large expanses of open green space for children to run around like nutters, burning off their fizzy drinks and driving their parents to distraction, while others walked their dogs and threw sticks.

There were a group of goblins in the kids play area hogging the swings, but they seemed happy enough and the braver toddlers love nothing better than tapping their noses and watching them wobble.

I was sure I spotted a few dog shifters, too. You can tell, there's nobody shouting at them to fetch a ball.

The sun was fierce and my pale skin screamed for sunblock I didn't have, sweat slick on bare arms and skintight black jeans I wriggle into every morning—my bum is like two albino melons wrapped in denim so you can bet I'm gonna show you what you're missing.

I kept on going until the lack of fitness gave its lactic acid warning once again. Scanning the park quickly, I knew this was about as good a spot as any to deal with Mr. Squisher and Mr. Nasty Elf. The other park goers were spread out, well away from me, so I stopped and turned, back to the sun. I put my hands on my hips, trying to look calm, cool, and badass, the effect only slightly spoiled by a little dormouse sat on my head and deciding now would be the perfect time to scratch.

Not in the mood, I picked him up and put him back in my breast pocket, ignoring his objections and fastening the popper.

"Quiet, you moaning mouse, or I'll throw you to the troll and you'll be nothing but stinky droppings." There was a muffled shriek of horror that vibrated across my breast. Gotta admit, it felt kinda nice.

Getting my breathing under control as the troll slowed and approached at a more sedate pace, I let my mind empty of everything apart from magic. There was no me, not in the sense of a person with cares, worries, concerns over her future, all of that was gone.

All that remained was a vessel for magic. Strong magic. My magic, access granted via the Pool. It builds inside of me, all the years of training, all the practice, the perfecting of my art. The pain, the bliss, the thrill of the esoteric energy that permeates the Universe and the planes of existence, the reality we see and the endless ones we don't. It gathered inside my body, swirling and churning and feeling more real than the reality before me.

I was white light and I was dark matter, heavy and weightless, good and evil, pure and soiled, and utterly ruthless. I knew without looking that my body was shining, sparks of magic dancing off me, crackling and spitting like I'd split open and a frenzy of wildness would envelop the troll and elf and they would be no more. Which, unless I kept control, could very well happen, at least the me exploding bit. Magic is wild and terrible and dangerous as hell, and it can wreak havoc on your body unless you are adept.

The more you use, the more dangerous it is, so I kept focus, willed it into being in ways I wanted, and as the troll came to a halt, the elf squinting at me, half-blinded by the sun, I reached out into the vastness and took the quickest glimpse I could into the countless timelines that were my possible futures.

Paths split and converged endlessly, into myriad very different futures. Some contained me, many didn't. Some saw me victorious, some saw me dead. Some saw me broken and bleeding, others saw me stomped to mush like the vampire.

But plenty of futures saw me victorious, whole and unharmed. In the blink of an eye I chose one such path, retreating quickly before I was burdened with the Sight, a terrible gift of utter futility if you got too deep. Nobody wants to see their whole future laid out for them—can you imagine how boring that would be?

"Such fun sport," said the elf, voice beautiful, scent intoxicating even from a distance.

I felt its mind reaching for me, to take me and wrap me in the most comfortable blanket ever. To soothe, calm, and entrance me so it could do as it wished. To seduce me. A mental block slammed down like a steel shutter, locking him out, my mind impervious to his nonsense.

"Shut up, you sick freak. You murdered my friend, for no reason."

"This world is dirty, so I'm cleaning it up and having fun doing it."

These damn dark elves, they want what is ours now they are stuck here, and I know for a fact that many parts of the world are close to being under their control. It doesn't take many of them to enthrall a city; they are like vampires with their glamor but multiplied a thousand-fold.

Once they get their evil minds into yours you are lost, theirs to do their bidding, and they are playing havoc with our lives. But we fight back and the only good thing that has come out of it is that us human magic users are no longer held in such contempt as before. Yeah, whoop-de-do, thanks for nothing everyone.

"Not any more, you aren't." I wasn't in the mood for showdown chit-chat and the magic was becoming wild, ready to explode if I didn't release it soon.

The air hummed, the grass burned away, and my body vibrated. I turned in a circle, slow then gaining momentum, spinning with my arms out wide and I was a blur, head snapping around faster and faster, trying to stop myself getting too dizzy as I entered a different place, a different world. A reality where time slowed and I caught snapshots of the troll as the elf goaded it forward, until it was running right at me, intention clear.

Timing it just right, watching the troll like it was wading through air as thick as soup, I flung myself in an upward arc that saw me launch at the elf like a javelin, trajectory perfect.

Arms outstretched, hands brimming with magic, I caught the elf around the throat and we sailed backward, me pushing more and more barbed magic through my hands and inside of him. As we dove toward the ground I saw the understanding in those impossibly beautiful eyes, and watched, transfixed, as a perfect single silver tear trickled as slowly as the Galaxy traverses the Universe itself from the corner of his eye.

We landed with a thud, the wind torn from his lungs as he hit hard with a crunch, me atop him, hands still around his throat, a knee on his breastbone. I squeezed tight, his long and elegant neck bruising beneath my cramped hands oozing malevolent magic that was already fading.

It was enough, and I watched dispassionately as the tear slid across his cheek to the ground and the eyes closed.

Dead. He was dead. It wouldn't bring back my friend, could never right the wrongs the elf had committed, and it gave no sense of satisfaction, it just was what it was—me protecting myself. Selfish, I suppose, but I'd done the best I could as soon as I could. But it was too little, too late.

The magic went away, back to the Pool. Waiting to be called, to make me something else again, take away a little more of who I am and what I am, but I've lived this long and I intend to live a lot longer.

The troll just stood there, shaking its head. It would be a while before it was back to being itself, and who knew what damage had been done. But there was nothing I could do for it, so I left, and went home.

"Oh," I said, turning. "You might want to stomp that elf until it is flat and food for the worms. We don't want the place to be untidy." I studied the troll, knowing my words must have filtered through as it slowly moved, joints stiff but functioning.

They are incredible creatures—silent, always watching, but easy prey for those that would do them harm. Only bonus is they cannot be killed, but I often wonder if maybe that isn't the worst kind of curse imaginable.

I didn't stay to watch. There would be no joy in that, and the morning had been bad enough already.

Home

I needed a rest, and food. Lots and lots of food. Using magic makes many a witch, wizard, sorceress, vampire, even zombies, et al, ravenous. Lucky for me, my tastes are focused on pasta and meat rather than the blood or brains of humans—definite drawback to being one of the undead or immortal human or ex-human beings, depending on your point of view.

Dragging my feet like my boots were full of troll bits, I got to the outskirts of the city, passed through the various communities that spread to fill the abandoned streets, skirted the no-go zones, and made it to the relatively new witch HQ. I had a nice simple semi-detached. Light, airy, spacious, and quiet, the perfect antidote to my often jumbled thoughts and my sometime memory loss.

Meaning I hated it.

The Queen thought it would be a good idea for us to take over one of the vacated streets, and fair enough it may have been for good reason as we were out of favor with many humans and despised by the elves, but when you find segregation anathema it's rather rich to then separate yourself from society and voluntarily make the haters' job easier.

Strangetown, that's what home was renamed when the beasties arrived, and I guess it's apt. Not exactly an imaginative rechristening of the old city, but it stuck.

The house was delightful, the reasoning utterly distasteful. I want to be me, live how I want, not hide and only feel safe surrounded by my sisters and brothers. One end, Queen, other end, the world and its problems. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

All the doubt vanished as I opened the door and breathed deeply. Such an intoxicating scent, almost overpowering, and I felt the familiar tingle in my belly and the nervous flutter as I gently closed the door behind me with a soft click.

Home. Peace. Safety—of sorts—and a messed up, totally inappropriate, stupid bubble containing a warped idea of a future happiness I knew could never be.

"You made it," said Zeno Cleave, blinking his oversized, freaky as hell, yet adorable eyes. Voice like a lullaby, making me want to curl up in his lap and listen to him talk until I took my last breath, dying a happy old witch with a smile on my face.