Crossroads by Stephen Kenson Read Free Book Online

Rox.”
    I sat up a bit more in bed and set the broth bowl on the table. “What's your name?” I asked.
    “Names have power.” he said sternly and I was taken aback. His expression softened and he smiled again . “It’s not always polite to ask someone’s name. Better to ask what they prefer to be called. They call me Jase. How about you?”
    “Talon.” I said. At his curious look I quickly added, “Er, Tommy. Talon is just sort of a nickname, I... I don't have a real last name.”
    “Okay, Talon.” he said, not questioning me further. “As to why I’m helping you . . . let’s say we’re kindred spirits. I know you’ve been having a tough time with the awakening of your Talent.”
    “Awakening? Talent? What the frag are you talking about?”
    He touched the star at his throat and said, “Magic.”
    I felt a chill go up my spine. I knew, just like everybody, that magic had come back to the world and that magicians, ghosts, and dragons were a reality. The native Americans, led by the Ghost Dance prophet, Howling Coyote, had used their magic to reclaim much of their lost land and form the Native American Nations. Magic was a reality, but few people ever saw a real magician. I certainly never had, until that moment.
    “You’re a . . . wizard?”
    “It’s as good a name as any, I suppose.” he said. “Yes, I’m a magician, but don’t be too impressed. As you'll learn, magic is more a state of mind than anything. Unless I miss my guess, you’re a magician, too.”
    I refocused my eyes on the black pit of the gun barrel and yanked my thoughts out of the past. The woman still regarded me coolly over the gun.
    “That’s how I knew Jason Vale.” I said. “He saved my life when I first discovered my Talent and taught me how to use it.”
    She looked slightly surprised for the first time, and her gaze flicked from my feet to my face as if she were getting a second look.
    The gun barrel dropped about ten centimeters. I decided to take that as an opening. “So tell me, what does all this have to do with Jase?”
    “Someone wants to kill me, and maybe you, too. Because of him and something he was involved with.”
    “What?” I said.
    She took a deep breath and started to explain. “I was hired by a Mr. Johnson to —” The crack of shattering plastiglass cut her off as a small, roundish object crashed through the window and tumbled into the room.
    GRENADE!
    Everything went into automatic as time seemed to slow to a crawl. I hit the floor and rolled behind the heavy steamer trunk I used as a coffee table. There was a dull “wumph” as the grenade went off, and a thick, white mist filled the room. Almost immediately my eyes began burning and I started coughing. Tear gas!
    I crawled toward the door on knees and elbows and nearly bumped heads with my uninvited guest as she did the same. When she reached for the doorknob, I grabbed her hand and shook my head.
    Holding the bottom of my coat over my nose and mouth, I choked out a phrase in Latin, extending my senses beyond the door and the walls of my apartment. Suspicions confirmed I stood up, eyes burning and streaming profusely now, and thrust my hand toward the door, palm out as I coughed out a single sharp word.
    The door exploded outward like it was hit by a bullet train. I heard shouts of surprise and pain as the thugs waiting in the hall were struck by jagged fragments of flying synthwood. A gun roared and blasted chunks of wood and plaster from the ceiling as its startled wielder fell backward, clutching at the bloody piece of door protruding from his throat.
    There were two other attackers awaiting me as I stepped out into the hall. One ork and a human woman who looked to be hyped up on something, whether drugs, magic, or wire, I couldn't say. The third guy was down and bleeding from the throat wound. I turned toward the ork and thrust my hands forward as though holding an invisible ball between them. Pale magelight flickered around them like heat