Strange Magic by James Hunter

Author:James Hunter [Hunter, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shadow Alley Press, Inc.
Published: 2015-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN:

Brainstorm

“Arjun,” Greg said.

“Yep,” I confirmed from my place within the bathtub full of ice. My torso looked like something Van Gogh might’ve painted on a dark day: black and blues swirled and intermingled across my ribs, chest, and shoulders, blending with the faded yellowing bruises from my encounter with the Rakshasa in Las Cruces. Looked a little like Starry Night, which was both cool and aesthetically pleasing. Also asstastic, did I mention that?

“What’s the end game?” Greg asked. “Long-term, where is this thing going?”

“Like I’ve got a clue.” I shrugged my shoulders and immediately regretted doing so. “Greg, I’ve been playing some hunches and following a few leads, but mostly I’ve been bluffing so far. You know that planning and forethought aren’t my strong suits.”

“You’re right—better to give the dyslexic kid the road map than ask you for insight and direction.”

“Why are we friends again?” I splashed some water at him, drawing minutely on the Vis to make sure he got a face full of freezing human-soup. “I have to admit, though,” I said after a moment, “Arjun struck me as sincere—whatever the hell he’s playin’ at, he sure thinks he’s doing good. He’s crazy as a horse in a tuxedo, but he’s got good intentions.” The sound of slushing water filled the quiet of the room.

“We better kill him quick,” Greg said, mopping the water from his face absentmindedly with a hand towel.

“Yeah” I agreed. “He’s the most dangerous kind of bad guy—one with a good cause. The quicker the better.”

“So how are we gonna get him into his pine box?” Greg asked.

“I don’t know. But we’re not going to be able to do it alone. I don’t have a clue where he’s holed up—he’s somewhere in LA, but LA is a big friggin’ place. Might as well be operating in some fallout shelter in Pakistan.”

“And he’s got a small army of monsters standing in our way,” Greg added.

“Right. So even if we get to Arjun, there’s no way we can handle nine Rakshasa popping out of the walls. Let’s not forget that he also has some serious hoodoo to fling around and a pet Hindu demon in his pocket.”

“You’re a real well of hope and optimism,” Greg said, unamused. “Now how’s about you stop whining and start thinking about solutions, princess.”

“How about you grow up a little, Greg. Name calling? We’re senior citizens, it’s … well frankly, it’s beneath us. So, if you could please just give me a friggin’ minute, you crotchety, old, backed-up-well-of-septic-waste, I’ll sort this all out. Okay?”

“Whatever,” he grunted noncommittally, which I took as his assent. I closed my eyes and let the water sluice over my body, let my arms relax and float upwards, clearing my mind of the pain, worry, and anxiety. Feeding all those unhelpful emotions into the fire of the Vis, letting energy and life fill me, while I floated in the coolness of the water. I always did my best thinking in the water; there’s something primal and inherently creative about water.

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