Page 40 of Elixir of Strife
Now, I wasn’t in the food and beverage business, but it was easy enough to see from body language alone whether a small gang of burly gentlemen was considering patronizing your fine establishment, or smashing it up with some baseball bats.
The baseballs bats in their hands certainly helped me arrive at that conclusion. Oh, and the balaclavas fully concealing their faces, too.
I pushed my chair back and rose to my feet. “We’ve got company, people.”
From the bar, Guillotina’s head whipped toward the entrance. Her eyes narrowed, a wildcat assessing her prey. Roscoe rolled up his sleeves. Leon, wiry and limber, automatically came to my side, equal parts nervous and excited for a scrap.
And good old Jonathan Slivers rang the old-fashioned bell above the bar. Someplace else, it might have been used to announce the beginning or the unhappy end of happy hour. But at Unholy Grounds, it was a warning. Heads turned from all around the room, customers dutifully getting up and gathering their things.
“Out the back, folks,” Johnny announced. “We’ll settle your tabs later. For your safety, please leave the establishment in an orderly fashion. Thanks. Yes. Thank you.”
What Johnny really meant was that they should leave for the safety of the thugs upfront. There was no trace of panic in his posture, nor in his expression. If anything, he welcomed the opportunity to ethically beat someone’s face in. This was just standard procedure at the bar for when the locals decided to act up.
Only a shame that these particular locals belonged to our community, too. Nobody ever said the arcane underground was a utopian society.
The lenses of Roscoe’s glasses flashed as he scanned the sidewalk. “Mundanes. Hired thugs. Guess who they were hired by?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, great. Divina Brillante, still at large. Sorry again, you guys. This is all on me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Johnny said, circling around the bar counter. “Still, she would have found out that you seeded the capital for the bar — for which we are eternally grateful, of course — but it still links it to you. Which is to say that yes, this really would be your fault, either way. But that’s cool.”
“Gee, thanks,” I grumbled.
Leon chuckled, trying to keep things light both for my sake and the sake of his nerves. “He’s just joking.”
I smiled at him brightly as the five of us fell easily into place. Fast friends, and a solid line of defense. Good luck getting past our wall.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I know he’s messing around. Those fuckers look pretty serious, though. Look alive, people.”
But one last resort, just to give them an out, if they were smart about it. Tina and I exchanged glances, then nodded. We raised our hands toward the thugs, shaping our fingers into that familiar Brillante configuration, our clan mark. The diamonds glowed white-hot within our hands.
“Hey,” Tina shouted, face bathed in the magical light. “Last chance, fuckers. You know who we are, and we know who you are. You sure you want to settle it this way?”
The goons looked uncertainly at each other. Kind of hard to tell what with the full masks, but again, body language. One of them scratched his neck, flashing the diamond tattooed on his arm. The muscles in his forearm flexed as he gripped his bat with renewed resolve.
I sighed. Hey. At least we tried.
They yelled as they charged into the bar, a ragged battlecry, some small, sad attempt to intimidate us. I did a quick head count. Seven of them, all big and beefy, too. Hardly a fair fight.
For them, of course.
“Penetrate,” I whispered, savoring the familiar tinkle and clink of the crystalline slivers that manifested between my fingers. One of the thugs flinched and backed up a step, but didn’t run. That was fine. Everybody makes mistakes.
The men closed in.
Roscoe snapped his fingers. Pink light erupted from the floor, a circle etched with intricate sigils. I never would have known the glyph was there if he hadn’t activated it. The Brillante thugs looked down, too surprised to move away in time.
A wave of air pulsed out of the circle as the magic activated, a dull, forceful thump that blew the thugs on their asses. One scrambled back to his feet and bolted right out of the bar. Wow. Very bad quality control at Casa Brillante these days. Total cowards they were hiring.
“Really, Roscoe?” Johnny shouted, slugging his first thug in the face. “You couldn’t have inscribed something more violent?”
“Jonathan Slivers,” he shouted back, retreating into a corner of the shop. “You’re the one who told me to stop using fire traps.”
Another thug followed him into the corner, over by a potted plant. He should have known better. Roscoe smirked, then clicked his fingers again. Another circle exploded from the ground, instantly igniting the thug’s jeans. This one went screaming out the front door.
“Except for that one,” Roscoe called out gleefully. “I kept that one.”
I dashed toward the closest man. I slashed with the diamond daggers, going for exposed skin, gritting my teeth as I avoided hitting any major arteries. Draw just enough blood to make it hurt, to terrify. These were low-level Brillante grunts. It wasn’t too late to turn them away from a life of crime and regret.
