Page 32 of Elixir of Strife
“Oh,” Ross said, craning his neck. “Did he say what he wanted?”
The werewolf scratched the end of his nose. “Probably to put the brick through a window?”
“Not on my watch.” Tina sprang to her feet, making a beeline for the front door.
“Hey!” Johnny followed her, still holding his drink. “Not on my watch, either.”
The werewolf went back to his spot at the bar. Roscoe shrugged and followed the others. I glanced at Max, who similarly shrugged and headed for the door, too curious to be left out.
A sweaty, fidgety man was standing on the sidewalk, the brick almost too heavy for him, his arms dangling near his waist as he shuffled from one foot to the other. Said brick predictably had a note tied to it.
“Can we help you, sir?” Roscoe asked, polite as anything.
The man said nothing, eyes wide with terror. I mean, he was up against five of us, any of whom would likely take him down before he could even think about using his brick.
“Hey,” I said, pointing at his neck. “He’s got one of those diamond tattoos, too.”
“A Brillante goon,” Tina snarled.
Max groaned and smacked himself on the forehead. “One of Divina’s. Looks like she wants revenge. Sorry, guys, this one’s on me.”
The man yelped, dropped his brick, and took off running. Tina sprinted after him, boots slapping against the concrete as she gave chase.
But while the man was totally inept at hurling warnings through plate glass windows, he was actually very, very talented at running at top speed. Good for him. I didn’t want to know what Tina had planned for when she caught him.
Roscoe freed the note from the twine still attaching it to the brick, unwrapping it and smoothing out the creases. We crowded around him, peering over his shoulder to look. Roscoe wrinkled his nose.
“They can’t even spell ‘you’re’ correctly. ‘Your in trouble now.’ It’s pitiful. Who’s teaching these thugs about grammar?”
“Bottom of the barrel, Divina’s goons.” Max shook his head. “We’re not dealing with the Brillante family’s best and brightest here.”
Johnny sighed and rolled his eyes. “Guess we should get ready for a scrap. Any guesses whether they’ll try to put a Molotov cocktail through the window next?”
I looked between their faces, impressed at how unbothered they seemed. I’d expect someone who owned a bar to be a bit more worried about some crime family threatening to potentially fire-bomb said bar, but Johnny was acting like this was just some annoying utility letter warning about a power outage. Max had already lost interest.
“Let them come,” Roscoe said, crumpling the letter in his hands.
Plumes of fire licked between his fingers, turning the sloppily written warning into a twist of blackened paper. He dusted his hands off, letting the charred bits drift onto the sidewalk, then turned to the rest of us with a bright smile.
“Nightcap, anybody?”
14
MAX
Tina never did catch the Brillante goon, unfortunately. Sorry, the Divina Brillante goon, to be specific. She’d hardly broken a sweat by the time she made it back to Unholy Grounds, muttering something about taking her aggression out at the late-night gym. She quickly downed her drink and left again.
Good thing Divina hired cowards, or perhaps they were all she could afford to ensorcel. For all the years I hadn’t seen her, she’d refined the power, but not the range of her talent. Her magnetism didn’t reach far enough, diminishing or cutting off completely, like a radio signal. Her lackey was scared, not a shambling zombie like the others.
It must have been nice to have lackeys at all, though giving in to one facet of the family business meant giving in to all of it. I wasn’t bred to be a mob boss. Didn’t have the stomach for it. Besides, I had plenty of help around me already. My old Dos Lunas crew would always be there for me, and I could definitely count on my new partner, too.
My new partner who went tottering out onto the Unholy Grounds sidewalk with a glass of iced water in his hand. Sure, the dragon had made him a compass that would supposedly lead us straight to the second elixir, but that didn’t mean we had to go on foot.
I tried not to watch Leon too closely as I guided him to my car by hand. Distressingly cute, the way that a bit of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on keeping all the water inside the cup. Johnny had made us promise to bring it back, too, the damn sourpuss.
“Way too grumpy about it, wasn’t he?” I asked Leon, who was still focusing very hard on his glass in the passenger seat. “I mean, it’s just a glass.”
“It’s not ‘just a glass,’ Max. It’s our ticket to the second elixir. And finishing the job request. And eventually getting that paycheck.” He sniffed, wrinkling his nose as he stared at the shard of ice, how it slowly rotated as we turned corners, followed side streets. “Besides, it’s a very nice glass.”
