Twisted Elements: Twisted Magic Book Two

  Twisted Elements

  Twisted Magic Book 2

  Rainy Kaye

  Twisted Elements © 2021, Rainy Kaye

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  1

  When Jada and I were fourteen, our paths had diverged. Although she had still been my best friend, she had become the popular girl, and I’d had Fiona. No one else deigned me worth hanging out with, but I hadn't needed anyone else.

  Fiona and I had become inseparable when, in fourth grade, she had dumped a glass of brush water on Megan Garrett's painting in art class. Megan had tripped me at lunch, and I'd spilled Wednesday spaghetti down my clothes. Fiona had taken it upon herself to add a little more water to Megan's watercolor project in the next class. She'd had zero remorse when she had been hauled off to the principal's office, flashing me a grin on the way out.

  Fiona had always been the one to stand up for others. That was why I had to go after her, to try to save her—even if that meant taking on New Orleans in its current state of disaster.

  As I stared out the windshield of Randall’s copper-colored Mustang, my heart sank. Up ahead, vehicles were parked at strange angles in the street, as if people had attempted to escape the oncoming disaster and then abandoned their plans. Belongings and trash were strewn across yards and into the road, and several buildings bore shattered windows and kicked-in doors.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. Just a few days ago, Randall and I had left behind Green River, Nebraska in a situation not much better. On the way out, I had discovered just how much damage Eliza Brown had caused to my little Podunk. That earthquake that had shaken the Victorian house had done quite a bit more to the town. Buildings, ones I had seen every day for my entire life, had collapsed. Some roads had split open. People had been lost, injured…or dead.

  It was no less disheartening to see with my own eyes that the mage was truly well and free out in the world here in New Orleans. Maybe a part of me had hoped the seal on his painting had not broken yet.

  That part of me was stupid.

  I twisted around to look at Randall who drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he took in the scene.

  “The way I see it, we can either go check out the warehouse on an empty stomach, or we can do it on a full stomach,” I said. “If Joseph Stone is right that they operate through there, then we have a big counter-abduction ahead.”

  Randall let out a long breath. “Even Joseph didn’t understand why anyone would take her in the first place. He’s not really convinced she’s going to be at the warehouse, either.”

  “Well,” I said, bristling, but I turned my head to look out the passenger side window so he wouldn’t see the tears welling up, “it’s the only lead we have, so that’s where we need to go.”

  The entire trip from Green River to New Orleans, Randall and I had not spoken much of Fiona, despite the fact she was the sole reason we had headed right into the epicenter of another paranormal disaster. As far as I was concerned, Joseph Stone had the training and knowledge to put away the mages and witches that had somehow been freed from their painted prisons, and even though we had helped recapture the one in Green River, this was far outside our wheelhouse.

  My wheelhouse, anyway. Randall couldn’t do magic, so his obligations were null and void by default. Mine would have more room to be questioned if Joseph Stone hadn’t been sent to save the day, but since he had, my one and only focus was on finding Fiona.

  Some dickweeds had taken her hostage and her last attempt to contact us had pointed us to New Orleans. Joseph could only think of one possible location to find her off the top of his head, given he had much bigger problems to concentrate on—like getting Eliza Brown’s painting back to the vault before she escaped her personal prison again—so here we were.

  Without a clue as to why Fiona had been targeted or any idea how to get her back.

  “One thing at a time,” Randall said, as if reading my thoughts. “Just focus on the next five minutes, and then the next. We got through the witch of Green River. We can find Fiona.”

  “I’m not sure how,” I admitted.

  “It’s what we do, apparently.”

  With that, he stepped on the gas.

  After a few miles, the streets showed less sign of distress and if I didn’t know an evil mage was running loose around the city, I wouldn’t have suspected anything was wrong. Several thick Southern live oaks stood on either side of the street, and beyond them, the shops proved to be intact.

  A blue building with the interior lights on through the big front windows caught my attention. A few people sat at the booths inside.

  “Looks like that restaurant is open,” I said, pointing as we rolled by.

  Randall nodded and pulled onto the curb as the parking lot barely existed.

  I pushed open the door and stepped out, taking in the scent of the city. It smelled wet but crisp, clean but earthy, with countless undertones I could not identify. Had the scent changed any since the mage arrived?

  With a glance over my shoulder to verify he wasn’t just strolling down the street—as would be my luck—I headed for the blue building. As we approached, a little dread from the day sat back, at least for the moment. We had a monumental task ahead, one that may cost my best friend’s life if we failed, but just for breakfast, I would bask in being in the Big Easy.

  I did have to wonder if I could, or should, cross this off my bucket list, considering I wasn’t exactly sightseeing.

  We waited a few minutes at the front, but when no one came to greet us, we looked at each other, shrugged, and took a seat at a booth away from the other patrons: a woman reading a book, and two men sitting close together, watching something on a shared tablet, both with rather serious expressions, or just in great need of coffee.

  I could go for some magic in a cup, myself. We didn’t exactly have a lot of time to hang out here while Fiona was who-knew-where.

  Tapping my fingers on the table, I scanned the restaurant but didn’t find any waitstaff. A coffee pot rested on the counter behind the server station.

  “I’m going to get us something to drink,” I said, starting to stand.

  A waitress with thick curls, wearing a blue polo shirt and black pants appeared from a doorway I hadn’t noticed far to my left. She strode over to us, and I plopped back down in my seat.

  “What can I get you folks?” she said, no pen and paper in hand.

  “Coffee, please.” I nodded
toward the server station. “And just eggs, toast, whatever is the quickest. We’re in a rush.”

  She nodded. “Hash browns?”

  “Yeah. Sure, sounds great. We’re not fussy.”

  We just needed to eat so we could get out of here.

  “We can make you up some grits, if you’d like,” she said.

  “Yeah, that too,” I said, resisting the urge to shoo her away with the order. “As long as they’re instant.”

  “If I served instant grits, my mama would come out of her grave just to slap me,” she said with a laugh.

  I smiled because I really didn’t want to be a jerk. “Just coffee and toast, please.”

  “Sure thing,” she said, turning to leave, but Randall put up his hand in front of him.

  “And beignets, please,” he said.

  I swiveled toward him like I was the Terminator.

  “What?” He lowered his hand back to the table. “We’re in New Orleans.”

  I sucked in a breath, cocking my head at him, but then smiled to dismiss the server. As she walked away, I threw myself back in the seat with a small groan.

  “I hope everyone at the warehouse has taken the day off,” I said. “Do you think it’s staffed with normal workers who don’t know they are employed by magic-tentacle wielders who apparently think they can catch all the evil mages and witches like they’re Pokémon?”

  Randall blinked at me, hands flat on the table, and then leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “That was…That was quite the mouthful,” he said. “Let’s walk through this. Joseph Stone was sent by some consortium to stop the witches and mages that were freed from their paintings. The wielders have come to collect them before Joseph puts them back. Fiona came up missing, and when we went looking for her, we gave these men the wrong idea that we were working with Joseph, because we thought he had taken her. Turns out, they were the culprits, but we have zero ideas why they want her. And the best anyone can come up with is that they are going to process her through the warehouse, though we, again, have no idea why, and we’re going to barge in and try to rescue her. I got this all in order, right?”

  I nodded, narrowing my eyes as I waited for his grand finale.

  “And we have no weapons,” he said.

  There it is.

  I let out a huff.

  “We have…No, we have no weapons. I can only warm coffee, which I probably will need to do by the time our order gets here.” I shot a pointed look at the coffee pot at the server station. “Weapons aren’t a bad idea, but I also don’t want to use them, because that means they’ve found us snooping around. Stealth is the way for us.”

  “We can’t—” Randall started, but the server approached with a tray, so we zipped it up and pretended to be casual tourists.

  She sat down the tray and unloaded fresh coffees, and several plates full of food—eggs, toast, hash browns, beignets—as well as two bowls of grits with cheese.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, lifting the empty tray from the table. “Milk? Juice?”

  “No, thank you,” I said but my attention was on the food. We had eaten value menu fast food on the drive here and I could basically feel the grease oozing out my pores. This spread was the closest thing to homecooked I’d had in weeks. “This looks great, thank you.”

  She smiled and sauntered to the server station to pluck up the carafe before heading over to the woman still reading from her book.

  Randall and I dove in. Every bite was worth the wait, and I barely stopped long enough to grab the hot sauce before continuing to chow down, pushing aside the gnawing guilt that we needed to get moving to find Fiona. We had practical limits, like food.

  As I shoved another bite of grits into my mouth, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Still holding the spoon, I turned to look as a gold ribbon of light undulated through the window on the far wall and danced overhead as it snaked through the air. I cocked my head, scanning the room for what could be reflecting, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

  “Uh…what is that?” I asked no one in particular.

  Randall took a bite from his beignet but stopped chewing as he turned to see what I was looking at.

  The ribbon was halfway across the room, swimming along. It dropped down and swiped straight through the woman with the book and the two men at the same time.

  I watched, unblinking, as the people froze in place, and their clothes rippled and changed to turn purple and gold and green. Their lips curled into a snarl as Mardi Gras party masks materialized over the top half of their faces, and they peered through with black eyes that consumed the sclera. There was nothing human about what stared out.

  The patrons twitched, and then began to stand.

  “Uh…”

  The ribbon extended farther, coming toward us, arching higher.

  Randall and I dropped our silverware with a clatter and scrambled out of the booths just as the ribbon dropped. We ducked to the ground, scurrying towards the front door. Pushing upright, I bolted through the restaurant, Randall right behind me, and darted outside.

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked between breaths, wiping my hands on my pant legs because I had long forgotten manners. Through the window, I could see the ribbon sauntering in the air, coming toward the entrance. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I turned and jogged toward where we had parked the car, weaving around a southern oak. Behind us, at the restaurant, the ribbon still moseyed along. I yanked open the passenger side door and dropped inside.

  Randall hurried around to the driver side and, without a word, started the car and pulled out. He didn’t speak until we were out of sight of the restaurant.

  “That was not on the brochure,” he said, deadpan.

  “Yeah…” I turned in my seat to look out the back window, as if I expected the ribbon had followed us, but it hadn’t. I sat forward again but my mind busied itself replaying the scene from the restaurant. “That had to be the mage. I mean, what else could it be? Not quite what I was expecting. Let’s go scope out that warehouse. We need to find Fiona and get the hell out of this city. Something tells me the mage is just warming up.”

  With a nod, Randall pulled his phone from his pocket and, glancing from it to the empty road and back, enabled GPS with the location of the warehouse Joseph had given us.

  Our destination was five minutes away.

  Five minutes, and we would find out what it was going to take to save Fiona.

  2

  The GPS led us to a narrow part of town dotted with warehouses settled on large parking lots. Semitrucks without their trailers waited in clusters. The area seemed abandoned, though I wasn’t sure if it always felt that way or if maybe the gold light ribbon had been through here and turned all the happy workers into strange evil-eyed mask-wearing…demons.

  I shuddered and pulled my limbs closer to my body as Randall turned off the map and peered at the road, trying to find our location. After a few minutes, he pulled to a stop on the curb.

  “This is it,” he said, picking up his phone and shoving it back into his pocket. “Got a plan, or just want to go walk around and see what stands out to us?”

  “That last thing sounds exciting,” I said with no enthusiasm. “Let’s go.”

  We piled out of the car and joined together as we headed into the parking lot. The warehouse was smaller than the others, white with faded red accents and no windows. No one came in or out the only visible door.

  To the right stood several large blue shipping containers

  “Containers or warehouse?” Randall asked in a low voice as he dug around in his pocket and produced a coin. “Heads or tails?”

  “Warehouse, heads.”

  He paused long enough to flip the coin into his palm, slapping it and then lifting his hand. “Tails.”

  With a shake of my head, I veered toward the containers. As we approached, I slowed to size them up. They were the kind innovative people, or a
t least ones who watched too much HGTV, turned into houses, but these had not yet been touched with power tools.

  “They can’t keep people in these things,” I said, careful not to speak too loudly in case anyone was around to hear. It seemed like our voices would carry in this area. “They would overheat.”

  “Then let’s hope they didn’t,” Randall said, reaching for the double front doors on the nearest container. They weren’t locked, and he swung it open to reveal…nothing.

  “Explains the super tight security around here,” I said, already heading off to the next one which was staggered farther down the lot.

  My heart stopped in my chest.

  In between the two containers, the ground had opened up in a strange whirlpool that swirled around like it was in water, not asphalt. The whirlpool churned blue energy.

  Randall came up behind me. “What the hell?”

  “I…I got nothing.” I stared at it a long moment, until my eyes felt like they would cross. I tipped my head up to him. “We can agree that it’s a stupid idea snooping around New Orleans while a mage that was determined too much of a threat to roam free is, well, roaming free, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Oh, good,” I said, looking back at the whirlpool. “Let’s just stay away from whatever that is. I really don’t want to go down the rabbit hole.”

  Randall squeezed my arm as he passed by me, heading toward the next container, but keeping a distance from the swirling pit. I followed after him, and together we tried the doors.

  That container was empty, too.

  “Let’s see if we can get three for three,” I said, stomping over to the last container.