fyin’ all over the place. It’s good yer down there, lass.’
‘It depends on your point of view, sir.’
Chapter Eleven
Stewart stood at the far end of the shopping mall near two magic users he now considered friends: Mortimer Alexander, a summoner, and Ayden the witch. They’d been called
to put a stop to a magical dual and this was their second such call today. ‘Any idea how this started?’
‘Trash talking, probably,’ said Mort, his dark navy summoner’s robe hanging loosely from his shoulders. It looked like a tent on him as he was as wide as he was tall.
‘Ever since Lord Ozymandias raised those demons, there’s been hell to pay.’
He ducked a particularly poorly aimed spell and it struck the front of a New Age shop. Every single crystal inside lit up a Christmas display.
‘Witches can’t aim worth a darn,’ he said to their other companion.
Ayden cranked an eyebrow at the summoner, her auburn hair and full cleavage tattoo commanding attention no matter what clothes she wore. ‘You necros aren’t any better with that aim
thing,’ she said, gesturing towards a gaping hole in the mall’s ceiling.
‘True, but –’
They both jumped as a blast of magic impacted a few feet from them, generating a swarm of tiny armour-plated butterflies armed with swords. A counterspell enveloped them and the winged warriors
turned to brightly coloured confetti.
‘Time to shut this nonsense down,’ Stewart said.
He stepped forward and planted his feet to prevent himself from being toppled by the magical waves rippling through the structure. ‘I’m Grand Master Stewart of the Atlanta Demon
Trappers Guild. Cease and desist, this instant!’ he roared.
The dualists – a younger witch and an older summoner – ignored him. A wave of magic clawed its way up the walls, causing them to turn transparent, revealing the pipes and wiring
underneath.
Mort joined the master. ‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Knock it off!’
The guy in the pale green robe opened his mouth to argue, but then clamped it shut, no doubt noting that Mort’s robe was darker than his. The darker the robe, the more power. This guy was
outclassed and he knew it.
‘Ah, only if the witch stops,’ the necro called out, clearly nervous now.
‘Your turn,’ Mort murmured.
Ayden took her place next to the other two. ‘It is time to end this,’ she said.
‘He started it!’ the witch called back, slowly working a spell between her hands.
‘You’re not three years old. Lobbing spells around makes us look ignorant and we don’t need the bad press.’
‘But – ’
‘There are people who believe we work for Hell and would love to kill us because of that. We’re trying to get them to think otherwise,’ Ayden replied, her voice tighter now.
She gestured at the destruction, including the line of fizzling magic playing along the rafters. ‘This is NOT helping. You understand me?’
The witch mumbled under her breath but the spell she’d been forming died out.
‘Go home, people. Do not start a war ya canna win,’ Stewart commanded.
The combatants frowned at each other, then they headed in different directions, trailing magic in their wakes.
Mort let out a sigh of relief. ‘Better than this morning.’
‘That was ugly. At least the bystanders’ hair will grow back . . . someday,’ Ayden replied.
‘You know, my mother wanted me to be a dentist,’ Mort said as he rolled up the sleeves of his robe. ‘No, I just had to be a summoner. Look what it got me.’
‘A steady job,’ Stewart replied, smiling now that the dual had ended. ‘Someone has ta clean up the magical Hazmat and yer good at it.’
‘Don’t remind me.’ Mort looked over at Ayden. ‘You ready?’
She nodded and began extracting various witchy supplies from the tapestry bag on her shoulder, including candles, crystals and magical chalk.
‘I’ll leave ya ta it, then,’ Stewart said.
As he walked away, he heard them discussing the best place to set
‘It depends on your point of view, sir.’
Chapter Eleven
Stewart stood at the far end of the shopping mall near two magic users he now considered friends: Mortimer Alexander, a summoner, and Ayden the witch. They’d been called
to put a stop to a magical dual and this was their second such call today. ‘Any idea how this started?’
‘Trash talking, probably,’ said Mort, his dark navy summoner’s robe hanging loosely from his shoulders. It looked like a tent on him as he was as wide as he was tall.
‘Ever since Lord Ozymandias raised those demons, there’s been hell to pay.’
He ducked a particularly poorly aimed spell and it struck the front of a New Age shop. Every single crystal inside lit up a Christmas display.
‘Witches can’t aim worth a darn,’ he said to their other companion.
Ayden cranked an eyebrow at the summoner, her auburn hair and full cleavage tattoo commanding attention no matter what clothes she wore. ‘You necros aren’t any better with that aim
thing,’ she said, gesturing towards a gaping hole in the mall’s ceiling.
‘True, but –’
They both jumped as a blast of magic impacted a few feet from them, generating a swarm of tiny armour-plated butterflies armed with swords. A counterspell enveloped them and the winged warriors
turned to brightly coloured confetti.
‘Time to shut this nonsense down,’ Stewart said.
He stepped forward and planted his feet to prevent himself from being toppled by the magical waves rippling through the structure. ‘I’m Grand Master Stewart of the Atlanta Demon
Trappers Guild. Cease and desist, this instant!’ he roared.
The dualists – a younger witch and an older summoner – ignored him. A wave of magic clawed its way up the walls, causing them to turn transparent, revealing the pipes and wiring
underneath.
Mort joined the master. ‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Knock it off!’
The guy in the pale green robe opened his mouth to argue, but then clamped it shut, no doubt noting that Mort’s robe was darker than his. The darker the robe, the more power. This guy was
outclassed and he knew it.
‘Ah, only if the witch stops,’ the necro called out, clearly nervous now.
‘Your turn,’ Mort murmured.
Ayden took her place next to the other two. ‘It is time to end this,’ she said.
‘He started it!’ the witch called back, slowly working a spell between her hands.
‘You’re not three years old. Lobbing spells around makes us look ignorant and we don’t need the bad press.’
‘But – ’
‘There are people who believe we work for Hell and would love to kill us because of that. We’re trying to get them to think otherwise,’ Ayden replied, her voice tighter now.
She gestured at the destruction, including the line of fizzling magic playing along the rafters. ‘This is NOT helping. You understand me?’
The witch mumbled under her breath but the spell she’d been forming died out.
‘Go home, people. Do not start a war ya canna win,’ Stewart commanded.
The combatants frowned at each other, then they headed in different directions, trailing magic in their wakes.
Mort let out a sigh of relief. ‘Better than this morning.’
‘That was ugly. At least the bystanders’ hair will grow back . . . someday,’ Ayden replied.
‘You know, my mother wanted me to be a dentist,’ Mort said as he rolled up the sleeves of his robe. ‘No, I just had to be a summoner. Look what it got me.’
‘A steady job,’ Stewart replied, smiling now that the dual had ended. ‘Someone has ta clean up the magical Hazmat and yer good at it.’
‘Don’t remind me.’ Mort looked over at Ayden. ‘You ready?’
She nodded and began extracting various witchy supplies from the tapestry bag on her shoulder, including candles, crystals and magical chalk.
‘I’ll leave ya ta it, then,’ Stewart said.
As he walked away, he heard them discussing the best place to set
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