Update
Today, I did work with my weakest point in writing, the scenes between action scenes. I had a lot of fun with the dialogue, as I always do, but I never know how long to make these kinds of scenes last. I also changed quite a bit here from the original story, and reworked a lot of Morgana's personal history.
Current Word Count: 26,104
Scene of the Day
“You shouldn’t’ve hit me, bitch,” he snarled.
“You shouldn’ta’
tried to blow the livin’ hell outta’ my office,” I retorted.
His eyes turned bright red, and everything around me
began to warm up.
When he started to glow, I moved forward to knock him
out.
Steam was starting to bubble up from his arms, making me
hesitate with my so-recently burned hand still in the back of my mind.
Bare fists would probably not be the way to handle him.
“I’d drop the fire, were I you, boy,” Mikhail’s voice
grumbled from directly behind me.
I didn’t jump, but only barely.
As he spoke, the heat dropped out of the air, and the
thug stared at the mountainous man in shock.
He snapped his fingers a few time, seeming to expect
something that wasn’t coming.
“What!?”
“Yeah, you’re employer really picked the wrong club to fek with,” Collin laughed.
I didn’t resist as he oh-so-subtly grabbed my elbow and
dragged me out of his bartender’s path.
“You aren’t the only one ‘round here that can play with
fire. And I promise you, he’s much better
at it.”
The magician was shaking at that point, and I didn’t
have a hard time imagining his life flashing before his eyes just then.
“Now that ya’ realize just how badly yer outta’ yer league, let’s try this again.”
Shaking Collin’s grip off, I stepped up to be at
Mikhail’s side.
It felt like I’d just stepped into an active furnace,
but I did my best not to let the discomfort show.
“Yer goin’ ta’ tell us who you idiots are working for,
and then, we’ll see if I have to let him at you or not.”
“He attacked my bar. You can’t stop me if you tried,
little witch,” the Russian grumbled.
How confident I was that I’d win that fight was
overshadowed by how much I really didn’t
want to find out the answer, and his smirk told me he knew it.
The display got to the thug, though, as he started
violently trembling.
“Talk, moron. Now.”
This time, I’d intentionally released magic with my
statement, giving it a little more impact.
Amazing, how well that trick made tough guys look ready
to break down in sobs, just as well as when I learned it as a kid.
“I don’t know her name. I’m just on loan to those two
assholes that left me here. She’s some bitch from down the river.”
“Is that a euphemism, talkin’ about somewhere in the
underworlds, or the Miskatonic?”
“That hellhole Dunwich,” he spat.
“What’s she want with the Zodiac?”
“Hell if I know. Best I can guess, the bitch wants to
start something ugly, and doesn’t
want a neutral zone in her way. That’s all I got, I swear. Those other two were
the ones that actually work for her.”
Despite his fear, he managed to sneer at me, which was a
little impressive.
“Sucks that you grabbed the wrong one, huh?”
“You’ll do fer a nice punchin’ bag for our trouble,” I
assured, to his increased pallor. “Where in Dunwich does she call home?”
“You’ll know it when ya’ see it. Only decent-looking
building in that damned pit stain people call a town, so you can’t miss it.”
Unfortunately, his description of the tiny village,
stuck in the backwoods of the Miskatonic River Valley, wasn’t too far off.
Most of the buildings had been thoroughly beaten with
time, and the idea of human life being supported in any of the ancient
monstrosities had always struck me as a faerytale way less believable than anything
the Grimms had come up with.
In my one experience passing through, I had to say the
people there reflected it well, standing as shining examples of the “don’t stay
too long after dark” this part of Massachusetts was famous for.
If the bankroll for this all had set up shop there, they
probably weren’t just some random rich woman who got bored.
Towns like Dunwich and Innsmouth were perfect if you
wanted to hide from people, or set up a criminal empire without notice.
I wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy, since I could hear
Collin fidgeting to my side.
With a huff, I brought my hand into the thug’s chest,
and he fell limp to the street.
“Sounds like my work should be done, Mr. Maxwell. I
found your issue.”
“Should be?”
he mused with an arched brow.
“Someone’s using Arkham as a chessboard. I hate bein’ toyed with.”
"Agreed. Shall we go meet my pain in the arse?”
Nodding, I headed for my car with him close behind.
“Mick, hold down the fort. Give the raven some crackers.
I’ll grab somethin’ to clean all the soot up on the way back.”
“Better,” the bartender grunted. “I’ll keep a watch over
the place. I got a nice human shield if they decide to come back while you’re
out.”
I probably should’ve felt bad with the implication, but
hey, the guy had tried to kill me three times in even less days.
We were barreling down the roads towards Dunwich without
another word.
The closer we got, the more fidgety I felt myself
becoming, and the truly annoying part was trying to rein it in only made it
worse.
The fact that I’m not the most talkative person around,
and that I was in the car with my client, who was one of the few that weren’t
afraid to jump into the hellfire with me, made me squirm even more.
Him obviously noticing it didn’t help much, either.
“Is this a normal job for you?” he asked, finally
breaking the drawn out silence.
I hid the huff of relief that bubbled up, and feigned
deep thought on the question instead.
“Hmm… Some mysterious woman’s runnin’ a scheme to use
hired thugs to get rid of a neutral zone, probably so she can start a war.
Actually, yeah, I think that does sound like a Wednesday, thinkin’ on it,” I
sighed.
Sadly, it was more normal for me than he’d likely think.
“You’ve got an interesting job, Lugus.”
“Sometimes. Mostly, it’s just a pain in the arse, and
anywhere else the bastards can break bones. Makes my bank account, and Jess,
pretty happy though, an’ I help keep people from turnin’ to puddles, so that does make up for it. A little, anyway.”
“Sounds about right, from everything I’ve heard. I am curious, though. About a few things,
actually, but fer now, I noticed you came up with that trick with the athame
pretty quick, when your wards started to fall. Almost like you expected it.”
“Trust me on this, Maxwell. If I’d been expectin’ it, I
woulda’ taken that bastard before he sicced whatever that fire beast was on us…
The windows will come from your payment, too,” I added as an afterthought.
“You deduct a lot from your expenses. How do you stay
afloat?”
“When I fek up, I deal with it. I didn’t think the
bastard’d have somethin’ of any caliber ta’ throw at us, an’ I ended up causin’
a fair bit a damage by pokin’ the damn thing thinkin’ it was just some demon. I
set the wards as part a the job, an’ they failed, so I sure as hell wouldn’t
charge fer it.”
“There’s no need for all that,” he retorted with a
flippant wave. “It would’ve been a lot uglier
if you hadn’t been quick about handling it. Way I see it, you earned your
paycheck, since I’ve still got a bar.”
“Fair enough. Still, wish I’d kicked the cretin in his
damn head a few times. Havin’ somethin’ break my magic that quick is just plain
insultin’.”
“Twice,” he added with a smirk. “Got your office, too.”
“An’ thanks fer that, because that makes me feel so much better.”
A thought occurred to me, and I winced.
“Actually, Jess set up the wards at the office. I’m good
at hittin’ things, but she’s a damn prodigy at defensive magic. Shoulda’ taken
that inta’ account, I suppose.”
“If she’s that much better, why didn’t she come help
out? She’s your assistant, right?”
“She’s smarter’n me, too,” I snorted. “Last time I had a
nasty case, was down in this little shitehole in the Avalon, she came with me.
Seemed simple enough. ‘Til the arsehole started throwin’ fire spells left an’
right. Bein’ a snow woman, she’s not a fan, an’ it nearly got ‘er killed. ‘er
girlfriend was even less happy than me er Jess, an’ Jess doesn’t want a
repeat.”
“Not to be rude, but can you cut the brogue a bit? It’s
making me think of home, and I wasn’t much of a fan when I was there.”
“Normally, it’s under control. When I get… agitated… it
tends ta’ flare up. Can’t really control it.”
“So you’re really nervous now, then, huh?”
“I don’t like walkin’ inta’ these kinds of things blind.
Wish I’d gotten one of the actual employees to get a better idea what we’re
lookin’ at,” I complained.
“Mikhail doesn’t regret it, if that counts for anythin’.
He’s probably taking some of his frustration from the past few weeks out on the
greasy little idiot right now. So, you’re from Ireland, I take it?”
“Born an’ raised, yeah. Well, technically, anyway. I was
in the Courts, right outside Dublin. When I hit 19, I made it clear I wasn’t
goin’ back willingly, an’ booked it fer Arkham.”
Somehow, I felt the compulsion to keep talking, and it
was making me even more uncomfortable, though for a much more mundane reason.
“Why Arkham, of all places? Not exactly a nice place to
visit, much less live, ‘specially for a woman, and even less for a woman who’s
a cop. Or P.I., in your case.”
“I’ve asked myself that plenty a times, myself,
actually,” I quipped.
Shrugging, I let my mind continue to wander down memory
lane.
At least it was more interesting than twitching the rest
of the drive.
“My brother used ta’ bring me all over the world, from
the time I was twelve. First time out, he took me ta’ Salem, the real Salem,
not the place that bought the name. I’d never experienced magic and psychic
clutter like I did right then. When I moved stateside, I was lookin’ fer work
at the time, usin’ what I’d picked up at uni.”
“Oh? And what did the P.I. faery witch want to be when
she grew up?” he asked with a smirk.
“I was inta’ computers, believe it er not. It just
happened that the APD was lookin’ fer techies, and I happened upon ta’ be
there. I joined up, and about six months in is when shit hit the fan.”
“Thing’s’ve been screwed up here for decades.”
“Sure, but they didn’t have the Camarilla here before.
When those bastards moved in, the supernatural side of things broke loose. If
ya’ were here already, ya’ know what I mean, an’ if not, be happy ya’ weren’t.
Havin’ my unique qualifications, I took on some cases on the side. Voila, six
years of red tape, broken bones, and psychological traumas, an’ I’m a certified
P.I.,” I mused.
“So you willingly took
all this city’s got goin’ on? Do you have some screws loose?”
“It’s been said,” I agreed easily. “Since I was around
this stuff since I was born, I’m better equipped ta’ handle the stuff than some
poor slob.”
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