Still My Ward - an Urban Legends story
This story started out as a scene in Echoed Memories. As it often happens, I let the plot get away from me, and, next thing I knew, I was writing something else entirely. I cut out the scene and decided to write a new story around it. The story changed several times. The setting of the second half of the story was inspired by my research into the 1st Ward. In case you're wondering, Lathrop Homes are real - though they aren't quite as dangerous now as they were at the time the story was set (Spring 2008).
The characters of Kuzma Ozyoskiy and Sumitra Laungani originally appeared in stories I wrote back in college. I had to go back into my archives and look up their names. Seeing my earlier writing was... humbling, to say the least.
I would like to thank mysticowl and noelct for helping me with some plot issues. I would also like to thank phoenix_anew for editing the story and providing some useful feedback and suggestions.
As always, comments and criticisms are welcome and very much encouraged.
Still My Ward
Being the Chief of Staff of the Alderman of the 1st Ward had its perks, and having my own office was definitely one of them. Sure, it was small office, but at least it wasn’t a cubicle. I just wish it didn’t feel so small when I had visitors.
“Dan,” Sumitra Laungani, head of the research division of Chicago’s Department of Special Events, gave me a brief hug. “It’s been a while. I’m glad you could see me on such short notice.”
“If you wanted to see me in person,” I said, “it had to be important. Come on, sit down.”
To most people, Sumitra’s title meant nothing. Chicago’s bureaucracy is notoriously bloated, and no one can keep track of everyone. But those who were magically sensitive knew the truth.
The Research Division dealt with paranormal threats - or anything that might turn into a paranormal threat. And out of all the people who worked in the Research Division, no one had quite as much raw power as Sumitra. She wasn’t quite the most powerful mage in the greater Chicagoland area, but she was definitely in the top fifteen.
But you wouldn’t know that from looking at her. At the casual glance, Sumitra was a fashionable woman in her mid-to-late 20s. Her outfit could be best described as business-class hipster - the sleek boots, the fashionable top and jacket, the pants that towed the careful line between casual and official. She wore a necklace, a few rings and a long scarf - every one of them magically charged and enchanted. Even the black-rimmed glasses she wore had magical properties.
Sumitra had a face that shouldn’t have worked on paper. Her chin was too long and narrow, her eyes were set a little too deeply and her nose was a bit too big. But somehow, it all added up to something that caught your attention and never quite let go.
Oh, if only I were a few years younger. And, you know, single.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I’ll get right to the point. Yesterday, the Chicago Police Department anti-gang task force intercepted a Chicago-bound truck full of the semi-automatic weapons at the Chicago Skyway tolls.” In other words, at the Chicago/Indiana border. “The truck belonged to the Latin Kings. What CPD didn’t know was that the weapons were magically altered.”
I suppressed a shudder. Enchanted weapons were messy. Take one and you could hit the target without really aiming, dodge enemy gunfire and shoot way more bullets than a normal weapon could possibly hold. In other words, magical semi-automatics could do everything you’d expect them to do in action movies.
Latin Kings were one of the most notorious gangs to ever come out of Chicago. It wasn’t really that long ago that their turf wars with Mexican gangs turned everything east of Western Avenue into a meat grinder.
Crap.
“Let me guess,” I rubbed my forehead. “The Latin Kings tried to fight their way out.”
“They did. It’s a good thing they weren’t facing run-of-the-mill gangsters. The officers knew exactly how the guns worked,” which interfered with magic, “and there were more officers than there were gangsters,” which made the interference stronger. “A few officers were wounded, but nobody died.”
That was a relief, at least.
“Do you have any idea where the Latin Kings got those things?”
“From Indiana,” Sumitra said, leaving the implicit ‘of course’ hanging in the air. “The Tri-County Task Force thinks they set up a sweatshop somewhere east of Gary, but they claim they don’t have the resources to track it down. And you know what? They’re probably right. The state government doesn’t know what they do; the counties are too busy arguing over taxes to fork over any extra funding. CTF barely have enough funding to hunt down werewolves and rust demons.” Sumitra’s face wrinkled with disgust. “You know, every time I think the City Council is full of petty and corrupt assholes, I look east and remind myself that no - it could be sooo much worse.”
I chuckled. Sure, the City Council paid our salaries, but that didn’t mean we had to kiss its ass twenty-four/seven.
“Anyway,” Sumitra continued. “When my people went down to investigate, we discovered that another truck full of enchanted weapons managed to get by us. We tracked it all the way down to Kennedy before the trail went cold. McKenzie calculated that they stashed it in Lathrop Homes.”
Double crap.
Julia C. Lathrop Homes were a part of the 1st Ward most people like to pretend doesn’t exist - a public housing development across the river from the rest of the ward. When it was built, it was in the middle of a decent-sized industrial area. Since then, factories gave way to big-box stores, and older working-class buildings were converted into middle-class condos. The developers keep hoping Lathrop Homes would just go away, but this hasn’t happened yet - though not for the lack of trying.
Lathrop Homes weren’t as dangerous as, say, Cabrini-Green, but they still had gangs. The Latin Kings controlled everything north of Diversey, and there are plenty of places where they could stash the weapons.
McKenzie was the best fate reader on the city payroll. Even if she were wrong, she wouldn’t be that far off.
“Do you think the semis are still there?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” Sumitra adjusted her glasses. “The Latin Kings could’ve moved them already. But I doubt it. The weapons are bleeding energy all over. So long as they’re stashed somewhere, the barriers will protect them, but once they move them, we’d be able to track them again. And they know it. They’re probably waiting until we stop looking.”
“Probably.”
The thing about weapons like this is that they weren’t enchanted by a mage with actual skill and practice. The Latin Kings (or whoever the hell they bought those guns from) smuggled in immigrants who showed even an ounce of magical talent and forced them to crudely hammer in the enchantments they copied off some spell book. And they kept at it until the poor people completely burned out.
The people who ran the magic sweatshops didn’t care. There will always be poor, desperate people trying to get into the country any way they could.
“You know,” I said, “when you said you had an emergency that couldn’t wait, I really hoped you were exaggerating.”
“And I really hoped I would get to go home early for once,” Sumitra grumbled. “But it never works like that, does it?”
“Nope,” I nodded “So, what’s the plan?”
“A raid,” Sumitra’s expression turned deadly serious. “We’re going to hit Lathrop Homes at 6:00 PM. The sooner we get those weapons off the street, the better I’ll feel. Heck, I would march down there right now, but I need to get my people in place, prepare reports and…notify the alderman.”
“Consider him notified,” I quickly assured her. “He knows the score, and I know he doesn’t want enchanted weapons in his ward any more than we do.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“The Alderman and I will spin it somehow.”
“Good. That’s good,” Sumitra’s expression barely faltered. “Thank you. But… Well, there is one more thing I wanted to ask you.”
I didn’t like where this was going. No, I didn’t like it at all.
“I’m listening,” I said.
“We’ll be entering Latin King territory,” Sumitra bit her lip. “And we don’t exactly have any legal authority on our side. I was kind of hoping we could borrow yours.”
“I see…”
Every private space has built-in magical resistance. It’s nothing the non-magical types need to worry about, but for magically sensitive types like Sumitra and I, it becomes a barrier. It dulls our powers, making every spell harder to pull off. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the owner gets a power boost. In his own apartment, even the weakest mage can fight Sumitra to a standstill.
You can push back against the barriers, but it requires a lot of power. Real-world authority gives you a nice shortcut. So long as you can legitimately claim any authority over the area, you push back against the barriers without spending much energy, and it gives a nice boost to your spells and the spells of everyone you work with.
“If you want authority, why not ask the Alderman?” I said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”
“He would,” Sumitra acknowledged. “But he doesn’t have any magical combat experience. You do.”
“I have a magic gun!” I pointed out. “That’s it.”
“That’s still more than the Alderman. Besides, do you have any idea how much crap I’d have to deal with if he dies on my watch? I’d be fired so fast you’d see skid marks all the way down Dan Ryan.” Sumitra looked me straight in the eye. “Listen… If you don’t want to help, fine. I can’t really force you. And if you’re scared….”
“If course I’m scared,” I threw up my hands. “I don’t want to die. Hell, I don’t want to get hurt at all. But that’s not really the point, is it?”
In Chicago, people tend to expect their ward offices to solve just about every problem that falls on their laps. And ward offices tried their best to help. You think there’s too much garbage on your street? We’ll send someone to clean it up. Did you find graffiti on your building? The office will remove it and make sure the local police district investigates.
And when somebody hides enchanted weapons in my ward, I am supposed to take care of it, one way or another.
Besides, if Sumitra goes in without me, her people might get hurt. They might die. Residents of Lathrop Homes might die in the crossfire. Sumitra would try to protect everyone, but even she had limits.
I took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it. On one condition.”
“What is it?” Sumitra’s response was curt.
“Your people are used to dealing with paranormals. Their first instinct is to shoot to kill. The Latin Kings may be scum, but they’re human beings. Their bodies won’t turn to dust. If any of them die, we will have to answer to their parents and the entire Lathrop Homes community. The Alderman will back you, but positive spin can only take you so far. So can you please tell your people not to kill anyone unless it’s absolutely unavoidable?”
Sumitra looked me over. I could see her thoughts racing across her face at lighting speed as she tried to work out the full implications of what I was asking. Then, she relaxed:
“Alright, that sounds fair. But if something does go wrong…”
“The Alderman and I will support you. I promise. All I’m asking for is a good faith effort.”
Sumitra nodded. “We can do good faith effort. Do you need anything else? Amulets? Weapons?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I have what I need. Save them for your people.”
Sumitra’s smile was brief - so quick you could almost miss it.
“We’re going to be staging the raid from the CHA administrative building parking lot,” she said, her tone still all business. “You know where it is?”
“The corner of Clybourn and Diversey?”
“You’re good.”
“Looking over ward maps all day does that,” I smiled. “Listen, I still got a lot of things I need to do, but I’ll try to be there by 5:40.”
“Sure,” Sumitra said. “And… Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll try to do my best.”
-------
Over the next few hours, I tried to focus on work. Thankfully, there is no such thing as a slow day in the Ward Office. Between constituent complains, permits, petitions, memos and reports to the City Council, my staff and I had our hands full. But as afternoon entered its final stretch, the reality of what I was going to do this evening crawled into my subconscience and launched a hostile takeover. By 4:30 PM, I realized that I was getting too distracted to be useful to anyone, so I tried to wrap up as much as I could and passed the rest on to the staff.
I locked myself in the office and began preparing my defenses.
I stripped down to my underwear and laid my clothes out on the floor. I tossed the tie aside - wearing a tie in combat was just asking for someone to pull it and choke you.
First thing first - establish the anchors.
I walked over to the pictures on my desk. Danielle Chui, my girlfriend for the past few years, looked past the camera, smiling without showing any teeth. Jasmine Morikawa, a long-time friend and a whole lot more, tried to hold on to her hat as the powerful Lake Michigan currents crashed into the beach behind her. Aside from her hair, it really was amazing how much she didn’t change over the past four years. And finally, there was my son, Toshiro. Jas and I were pretty young when we had him, but part of me is still couldn’t quite believe he was old enough to be in high school. Jas took this picture at a track meet, just after Toshi got his medals. In a few seconds, his friends would pile on. Dani would try to shoo them away before they ruined the shot and Jas would laugh and keep clicking.
I traced my fingers along the frames, drawing energy from memories, absorbing everything those images represented. That energy crackled at my fingertips as I crouched down and pressed them against the fabric, leaving focus points at the tips of the cuffs of the sleeves and pants, near the belt, at the collar, right over where my heart would be. Then, I traced the lines between the points, connecting them so that the energy would flow in just the right way.
But it would take a spell to turn that energy into proper enchantments.
“Broni i Chroni,” I chanted in Polish, the language of my family and the people who first settled in this ward. “Defend and Protect. Defend and Protect.”
The spell didn’t need to be complex - it just had to be meaningful.
The energy surged along the energy lines, blossoming into complex patterns that reminded me of tree branches. A few moments later, the glow dimmed. My clothes still felt warm. The enchantments were in place.
Now, what I needed was the energy to keep it going. I needed fresh, raw emotional energy.
So I called Dani’s office. Unless there was some kind of an emergency, she had to be there.
“Dan?” She said with a little tinge of concern “Hey. What’s going on?”
“I might be running a little late,” I told her after we exchanged greetings. “We have a situation in Lathrop Homes. It could get messy.”
What I did was manipulative as hell. For this defensive enchantment to work, I needed very specific kind of energy - the energy that comes when your loved one might be in danger and you want to protect them. In other words, Dani had to worry about me. I didn’t want her to worry about me.
On the other hand, she’d hate it if I didn’t keep her in the loop. And I usually did try my best to keep her in the loop. She wasn’t sensitive to magic, so I couldn’t tell her everything, but I could still tell a lot.
I waited for her to say something. Anything. Then, I heard her inhale and exhale.
“Is there any way you can get out of it?” she said.
“No. I wish I could, but it’s not the sort of thing I can avoid. Sorry.”
Another pause.
“I understand,” she said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Just be there when I get home. I’d ask you to make me some tea, but it would probably be too cold.”
“I can always heat it up, you know,” her chuckle came out forced, but I appreciated it. “It’s amazing what you can do with microwaves those days.”
“I know,” I smiled. “And if anything happens…”
“Don’t worry,” her voice quivered. “I understand. Please, take care of yourself.”
“I will,” I said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I took her love, that stubborn, protective love, and poured it into the spell.
Technically, it was enough. But I wanted more than just enough. I wanted the best protection I could conjure. And, for that, I needed something extra. I needed someone who knew me knew me better than anyone. Someone who would not give me any slack, but wouldn’t want to see me die, either.
So I called Jas.
She worked at the Evanston Hospital - the oldest and biggest hospital in our hometown. When she picked up, the peeps and shouts poured through the speakers.
“I’m at work right now,” she said, raising her voice just enough to out-shout the hospital. “Is this important?”
“Kind of. I’m going into a potential gang warzone. Ward business. Just figured you’d like to know.”
Dani liked honestly, but she also hated overreacting. If she was worried, she tried her best not to let it get to her. Not Jas.
“Shit!” I heard some commotion in the background, but Jas didn’t seem to notice. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. There is some trouble in… remember how I told you we have a public housing project in my ward?”
“Yeah. Lathrop Homes. You have to go there?”
“It’s not like it’s Cabrini-Green,” I offered.
“It still has gangs!”
Evanston was a pretty well off city, but it shared a border with Juneway Terrace, one of the dodgier parts of Chicago’s northern outskirts. When people get hurt there, they tended to wind up in Evanston Hospital. If anyone knew exactly how badly a person could get hurt in a gunfight, it was Jas.
“I know,” I said. “And I’m going to try my best not to get shot. It’s just… If something does happen, I wouldn’t want you to find out from the Tribune.”
Jas cursed under her breath. “God damn it, Dan. Why did you have to drop this shit in the middle of my shift? Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse…”
“I’m sorry, Jas. I shouldn’t have called.”
She sighed: “No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m just… I almost had a patient die on my watch and she might still… I don’t know. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“She’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” the words came automatically. I was so used to comforting Jas that it was almost a reflex.
“Thanks. ” She shouted ‘I’m coming!’ at someone on the other end and said: “Look, I have to run. I’ll call you when I finish my shift, and you better pick up.”
“I will. Good luck, Jasmine.”
“You too.”
She hung up. Another boost of energy surged across the floor. Complex energy that defied simple nouns - not quite love, not quite friendship and somehow all of the above.
The emotional energies crossed each other and stirred. I had to stabilize it, quick.
“Defend and protect.” I chanted. “Defend and protect. By the ties that binds us, by the history that defines us - defend and protect!”
The two energies clashed one last time before finally settling next to each other.
There.
Now, was it worth it? Upsetting two of the most important women in my life - was it really worth it?
God, I hope so.
I got dressed. The clothes felt comfortable and warm. The patterns pressed softly against my chest.
It would wear off in a few hours, but for now, it was… nice.
I reached into the drawer, pulled out my magic gun and headed out the door.
-----
One nice thing about having a boss who is aware of magic is that you don’t have to think of any excuses to leave office early. Very few people make the living off their magical talents. Most have regular, mundane jobs, and they have to fit the magic around them. It doesn’t always work. Half-assed excuses might work in movies and comics, but they only get you so far in real life.
Of, at least, that’s been my experience.
The local Chicago Housing Authority administrative building sat right at the tip of Clyborn/Diversey intersection, behind a lawn with a tall flagpole. The parking lot itself was behind the building. When I got there, I saw that it was completely full. I wondered how Sumitra was going to stage a raid from a full parking lot.
And then I realized that I was a moron.
The parking lot was warded. Of course it was warded. How else would Sumitra be able to commandeer a parking lot during rush hour?
Every instinct screamed at me to walk away, that there was nothing to see here, but I pushed on and stepped through a very convincing beat-up Ford.
“Dan!” Sumitra waved from across the lot. “Glad you could finally join us.”
“Hi, everyone.”
The parking lot actually did have a few cars. Most of them were black municipal vans. There weren’t really a whole lot of people. Adam Gibbons, Sumitra’s right-hand man, greeted me with a silent nod. A few grunt-level mages picked through the gear. McKenzie and Christina Olsen, the Division’s strongest fate readers, set up shop at folding table covered with cards, mirrors and maps. Olsen used a laptop and an iPhone. McKenzie stuck with pencils, tacks and string.
Two figures stood near the only non-black car in the parking lot - a middle-aged man in a gray suit with a waistcoat and a slightly taller man dressed head-to-toe in white runner’s clothing and a white jacket. The older man had severe features and receding, graying hairline. The younger man had his face completely covered by a white mask, a hat and tinted goggles. Both were built like athletes, which made sense - they both made their living contracting out their skills.
I would recognize those two anywhere.
“Kuzma,” I turned to the older mage. “I thought you said you’d never work for the city.”
“Masterson,” He sounded the way he usually sounded when talking to me - pointedly bored. “You are here. And still chattering.”
Kuzma Ozyorski was a gun mage - a combat mage who focused his magical talent on firearms. Which, if you ask me, was kind of limiting, but he managed to survive for over fifty years, so what do I know?
“Oh, come now, Kuzma,” the man in white walked over, his voice coming through slightly muffled “I love Dan’s chatter. A nice contrast to the whole Man-With-No-Name thing you’re doing, don’t you think?”
“Tenoch,” I held out my hand. “I knew I could count on you.”
He took my hand and shook it
“Oh, believe me, Daniel - pleasure is all mine.”
Becoming a vampire tends to bring out a person’s innermost urges. Some develop a taste for orgies and murders, but Tenoch, who’s been buying comic books since he was eight, saw his transformation as a chance to become a superhero.
Tenoch was changed recently enough to be able to move around during the day without losing powers. So long as the sunlight didn’t touch his skin, he was fine.
I scanned the parking lot again.
“Where is Adrian?”
I had known Adrian Cressman since he was ten. What he lacked in power he made up for with skill and ability to channel the magical energies that flowed through the city. That’s one of the reasons why Sumitra liked to contract him for her operations.
“Adrian is on another job,” Sumitra said a little too curtly. “And besides, we got more than enough power right here. Between our power and Dan’s authority, I think we’ll survive.”
I glanced at Tenoch. He shrugged.
Sumitra did have a point - bringing in Adrian might be overkill. It’s just that everybody knew that Sumitra liked the young mage. Some even said they were secretly dating. Or, at least, secretly banging. These were probably just rumors, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
But that didn’t matter at the moment. We had magical weapons to track down.
I turned to Sumitra and asked: “What’s the plan?”
“We’re having trouble narrowing the weapons down to a specific building. We could search it one by one, but we don’t have enough people to do it all at once. Can you bring down the barrier?”
I looked out at Lathrop Homes. From the parking lot, we could march straight into the courtyard. If I stood right in the middle, I should be able to improvise a magic circle and cut the barriers from all the building at once.
I relayed my thoughts Sumitra.
“Sounds good,” she nodded. Then, to everyone else: “Alright, we’re going in. Kuzma, Tenoch- you’re with us. Gibbons - stay here for now. Be ready to move if we call you, otherwise - protect the parking lot. McKenzie, Christina - as soon as the barrier weakens, start running location probabilities and call me the second you get something.”
“Got it, boss,” said McKenzie.
Sumitra nodded: “Everybody else - spread out and ward off every major street entrance into Lathrop Homes. Let the locals through, but if you sense anyone carrying magical firearms…”
“Block them and contain them,” one of the low-rung mages said. “Got it.”
“Good.”
“Hold on,” Kuzma piped in. “You want the four of us to walk around in the open? That’s going to draw attention.”
“None of us is black of Puerto Rican,” Sumitra replied. “We’ll draw attention no matter what we do. Now come on. Time’s a wasting.”
We stepped out of the defensive ward and walked to the courtyard, into a part of Chicago that might as well be another world.
---
Lathrop Homes were built during the Great Depression, before Modernism reduced public housing to plain, white boxes. Oh, they were still boxes, each one between 2 to 4 floors, but at least the architects tried to make them appealing. The buildings were made of nice brown and red brick. White trimmings framed every doorway, and square patterns outlined the staircases and the corners of the buildings. And thanks to a beautification project a while back, a few buildings were decorated with colorful Aztec-themed mosaics.
Looking at them now, I could see plenty of broken windows, scorch marks and graffiti on the doors, but it didn’t take much to imagine a time when those buildings were new and beautiful.
North of Diversey, most of the buildings were built between Leavitt and Clybourn. They faced the sidewalks, forming a nice protective barrier around the courtyard. Steam rose out of the heat vents. As we walked toward the middle, we passed a group of kids playing soccer. Their parents checked their watches nervously. Everybody knew that, in a few minutes, staying outside would be too dangerous. The Latin Kings would come out of the shadows.
A few feet past the soccer field, we saw a cement circle with benches that roughly corresponded to cardinal directions and four small pillars closer to the middle. Enormous trees loomed around it, almost forming a circle of their own.
“Wow,” I said. “This is just too perfect.”
“Let’s hope a mage didn’t claim it already,” Sumitra said.
I walked in the middle and took out my city ID, ready to assert my authority against the barrier, when I heard someone calling out:
“Mr. Masterson!”
I turned around and saw a middle-aged black woman in a casual business suit and a wide-rimmed hat. She walked along the path from Clybourn - she probably just got off the bus. I reached into my mental rolodex… Aha!
Mrs. Eugenia Thomas. Social worker, community activist, member of the Lathrop Homes’ Local Advisory Council - the closest thing the projects had to official representation. Yes, I’ve definitely met her before.
“Mrs. Thomas. What can I do for you?”
“Why, Mr. Masterson - you do remember,” she smiled wryly. “I’m shocked.”
I… kind of deserved that. When Alderman Salgado ran for reelection, the race was pretty close. We needed all the votes we could get. I suggested reaching out to Lathrop Homes, the one part of the 1st Ward that candidates tend to ignore. God knows we ignored it last time.
I was only a communications director back then. I worked with the Local Advisory Council to get the voters out. The Alderman himself showed up and made a lot of promises about beefing up police patrols and preserving affordable housing in Chicago. In the end, we didn’t get quite as many voters as we wanted, but “not quite as many” was still enough.
But how often have I been back since? How often has anyone from the Ward office been back since?
“I am sorry,” I said. “I know I’ve been a stranger. But I am here now. What can I do for you, Mrs. Thomas?”
She looked into my eyes, studied them carefully and nodded:
“Actually, there is something you can do. The family in the apartment next time mine hasn’t had running water in three days. We’ve been asking CHA to repair it, but all we got back are promises that they’ll get right on it.”
Of course. Business as usual at the Chicago Housing Authority.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell you what. Give me that number of the building and the unit. If CHA doesn’t send someone by the end of tomorrow, call this number,” I handed Mrs. Thomas my business card, “and our office will take care of it - no charge.”
“Are you sure about this? Doesn’t the Ward office have more important things to do?”
“You are in our ward, Mrs. Thomas. So is everybody in Lathrop Homes. I know it doesn’t feel like it most of them time, but that doesn’t make it any less true. We will take care of you.”
Mrs. Thomas has lived in Lathrop Homes since she was a teenager. She was used to being disappointed. And she had every right to take what I said with a grain of salt.
“Thank you, Mr. Masterson,” she said. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I expect no less, Mrs. Thomas.”
It was subtle, but I could have sworn her face brightened just a little bit.
“Have a good evening, Mr. Masterson.”
“You too, Mrs. Thomas.”
And with that, she walked past us, heading towards her building on the other side of the courtyard.
I glanced at my companions.
“Did you mean all of that?” Sumitra asked, “Or are you just trying to kiss up to your constituents?”
“Both. The people of Lathrop Homes aren’t going anywhere. If we want them to vote for us, we have to take care of them.”
Or at least that’s how I was going to pitch it to Alderman Salgado.
Sumitra shook her head: “You confuse me, Dan.”
And then, her phone rang.
“What it is?” she said. “Oh, really? Okay, thanks.” Then, to us, “The barrier is down. We got the lock on the building. House number...” She moved her hands over the side of her glasses. “There it is!” She gestured at the building at the northwestern corner of the courtyard. “Let’s see… Sightbeyondsight… Second floor, somewhere at the end of the building. We need to get closer.”
We ran out of the courtyard and out on Leavitt as Sumitra shouted into her phone:
“Kastiel, Gabby, Irma- converge on Blocks 2815 - 2827 and ward them off ASAP! Nobody gets in or out but us!”
If you looked at it with Google maps, the building would resemble a blocky question mark. It followed the street in a straight line until it bent, surrounding the front yard area from three sides.
That’s where we stopped.
The front yard wasn’t much to look at. Two trees rose out of a plate of worn, beat-up asphalt, shrouding parts of it in shadow. There were three entrances - one in the middle, two on the sides.
Sumitra glanced over the building again, scanning the second floor carefully.
“Second apartment from the middle staircase!” she practically spat out. “Tenoch, you’re on the roof. Kuzma, cover the yard. Dan - with me.”
She and I strode into the central entrance and ran up the staircase. The walls were caked with decades of paint and graffiti, but you could still see some traces of old patterns on the ceiling.
The second floor hallway barely had any light. The small lamps flickered.
“Which side?” I said quietly.
“Right,” whispered Sumitra. “There are three people here. One has been exposed to magic, but I can’t tell if he has any abilities. You might want to get your gun out.”
“Not yet,” I whispered back. “We don’t know who’s in there. For all we know the Latin Kings found a family and threatened them into hiding the weapons. Waving a gun in their faces wouldn’t help.”
“Good point. Let me see if I can get something.” She traced her hand along the wall, intricate circles forming around her fingertips. “I swear, sometimes I think the astral plane runs on dial-up. Here we go. Four people live in this unit. Alberto and Silvia Gutierrez… They have two children - Lucia and Paco. It won’t give me anything else.”
We could get more info with a proper scouting spell - but it would take too long.
“Alright.” I thought aloud. “Both of the kids could be Latin Kings. Or they might not. And we don’t know who’s actually inside.”
“Not until we open the door.” Sumitra shrugged. “Guess we’re going to have to go in and find out”
She touched the sleeves of her coat, charging up her protective enchantments. I moved my gun to the front pocket.
Sumitra knocked on the door.
At first, no one replied. Sumitra glanced at me, and I could tell that she was prepared to force the lock open, but then, the locks clicked and we saw a middle-aged Puerto Rican couple staring on the other side.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez?” I said. They nodded. “Dan Masterson, 1st Ward Office,” I flashed my city ID. “This is Sumitra Laungani, Department of Special Events. Is your son home?
The Gutierrezes exchanged glances.
“Oh no…” Mrs. Gutierrez said. “What did he do this time.”
“Same thing he always does,” Mr. Gutierrez grumbled. “Sticks his face where it doesn’t belong. I keep telling him - everything has consequences, but does he listen? No. Of course not!”
“It might be nothing,” I tried to reassure them. “But we have a lead and we need to check it. We think your son might be hiding illegal merchandise in your apartment.”
Mrs. Gutierrez looked like somebody punched her in the gut. She even gasped.
Mr. Gutierrez glared at us: “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Please leave.”
“Sir,” Sumitra said. “We are not out to get your son. We are just trying to find the…merchandise. It’s dangerous. If we don’t secure it, people might get hurt.”
“Please,” I said. “Just let us take a look inside. I promise that your son won’t be charged with anything.”
Which, ironically, was true - we didn’t have the authority to arrest anybody.
Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez looked at each other and exchanged a few words in Spanish.
Then, Mr. Gutierrez spoke, his voice thick with reluctance:
“Okay. You take a look. Take this… merchandise and go.”
“That’s fair.”
The Lathrop Homes family units weren’t very big. Each one had a kitchen that doubled as a living room, a small washroom and two small bedrooms. Colored photos gave the drab walls a touch of life. Most of the pictures had kids - a young girl that I assumed was Lucia and an older boy.
“Paco!” Mrs. Guiterez called out “We have…”
One of the doors opened.
The first thing I noticed about Paco was that he had the Latin Kings’ five-point crown tattooed on his left shoulder.
The second thing I noticed was that he had a gun. An enchanted handgun.
“Where did you get that?” Mr. Gutierrez tried to sound stern, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice.
“Take it easy, Paco,” Sumitra’s enchantments blazed blue. “We are not trying to hurt you.”
His eyes darted at his parents, then us.
He swore in Spanish and said: “What the hell are you?”
At first, I didn’t get what he meant. But then I realized - he was holding an enchanted object. And he’s probably been holding it for a while. He could see magical energy. And Sumitra, with all her enchantments combat-ready, must have looked like she was glowing.
“Please,” Sumitra said. “We are not trying to hurt you. We just need to take a look inside your room and everything will be fine.”
And as I saw his face shift from nervousness to terror, a second horrible realization hit me. Paco didn’t know. Nobody told him anything about magic. He probably didn’t even know his gun was enchanted. He was being a good gangster, doing what he was told.
The poor kid had no idea what he got himself into.
“You had no idea what you have, did you?” I said. “You just held those boxes for your friend? Right? You had no idea what was inside?”
And as looked at him, I realized that, no, he did. He looked. He’s been in a room where enchanted weapons have been leaking for over a day, their energy bottled up inside thanks to the barriers. At this point, he probably wouldn’t need to hold an enchanted weapon to see magic.
“There are weapons in those boxes. Dangerous weapons. If you just let us take them off your hands, you will be fine. You’ll never hear from us again.”
Mrs. Gutierrez said something in Spanish. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was saying. ‘Please, son, listen to what the man has to say. Please.’ And, for a moment, he actually seemed to hesitate. But then, Paco looked back at us and his eyes turned cold.
“Fuck you,” he snarled and fired.
The bullets slammed into our clothes and dropped harmlessly, but the enchantments didn’t absorb all the kinetic energy. Sumitra staggered back and nearly tripped over a chair. I pretty much fell on my ass.
By he time we got up, Paco was already running.
Shit shit shit shit shit!
Sumitra flung her hand and the door snapped shut, but it was too late.
“Shit!” She reached for her phone. “We need to secure the weapons. Shit!”
“Just ward it! The cleaners will pick it up later!”
Paco ran, but his gun was leaking all over. I followed his trail down the stairs.
I reached inside my pocket and shouted:
“Megagun!”
Magical energy surged down my hand and the weapon morphed, growing and expanding into something my sixteen-year-old self thought was badass - enormous grip, an oversized barrel and several clear tubes sticking out the back. If it had any actual mass, I would’ve had hard time lifting it, but most of it was ectoplasm.
“Knockout mode.”
The gun sang in approval as the tubes on its back turned blue.
Outside, Paco pointed his gun at Kuzma. The older mage pulled out one of his weapons - a Soviet-made handgun with extra-long barrel covered in runes and Cyrillic letters. The runes glowed green.
“You don’t want to do this, son,” Kuzma said. “You are in over your head. Put the gun down and walk the hell away.”
I raised my own gun.
“What the fuck is this shit!” Paco cried out.
“Magic,” I said. “Real-life magic. Your friends are trying to control forces they don’t understand. They dragged you into this and didn’t bother to tell you anything.”
“Fuck you!” He jerked the gun towards Kuzma’s face, but his hands were shaking. “You’re just trying to keep my people down. Every time we get anywhere, it’s don’t do this, don’t do that… Fuck you!”
“Are you getting sick of this bullshit, Masterson?” Kuzma said. “Because I am.”
Paco cursed in Spanish and fired.
Three things happened at once. I fired. Kuzma fired. Kuzma’s bullet sliced right through Paco’s and kept going, slamming straight into the barrel. My bullet hit Paco in the shoulder.
“Razbey!” shouted Kuzma and Paco’s gun shattered into millions of harmless shards.
Paco reached for his shoulder and slumped onto the ground. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he had no magical resistance.
By the time Kuzma and I lowered our guns, Paco was out cold.
“Damn…” I mumbled under my breath.
“How long until the knockout charge wears off?” asked Kuzma as he looked over the boy
“30-45 minutes.”
“Not bad, Masterson. You could do better, but not bad.”
I smiled. “I am sorry, but was that a compliment?”
“Hold up,” Kuzma raised his hand. “Movement.”
I followed his eyes and saw someone leaning against the window of the fourth floor, on the other side of the central staircase. The window flew open…
“Sniper!” Kuzma shouted as he pushed me out of the way raised his gun.
Kuzma was fast, but Tenoch was faster. He jumped down from the roof and dove right into the open window. Seconds later, a large rifle flew out of the window. Tenoch stepped out on the ledge, dragged the sniper by the shirt collar and jumped down.
Magic stirred as I heard the sickening crunch of his bones breaking and mending.
Once his body healed, Tenoch let go of the sniper. The magic that kept Tenoch alive shielded the sniper from the laws of motion, but dropping down several floors was still too much for the kid. He tried to move his head, looked up at the sky and fainted.
Tenoch sniffed the air: “Four more,” he gestured right. “That door.”
Of course the sniper had back up. Why was I surprised?
If the gangsters were smart, they would have taken cover behind the door. But those guys had enchanted handguns. So they ran out into the yard, cover be damned, and fired.
I ducked behind the tree and ordered:
“Megagun - Knockout Mode, Scatter-fire.”
I ducked back out and pulled the trigger. Megagun spat out several bullets at once, but those goddamn enchanted guns interfered with aim. Only two bullets hit their target. One gunman clinched his arm and I heard a loud clang, but that still left three more.
Tenoch moved so fast the human eye could barely follow, but he was up against enchanted weapons. He barely managed to stay ahead of the bullets as the guns kept firing clip after self-regenerating clip. Kuzma crouched behind a tree, firing off a few bullets carefully, precisely. Another one down.
The bullets slammed into my defensive enchantments, pushing me back against the wall. I ducked back behind the tree. Enchantment or no enchantment, it still hurt like hell.
“Rustify!”
Sumitra walked out the door as the bullets dropped all around her. The remaining Latin Kings watched in shock as the metal of their guns turned dull brown.
“Unbind, unwind, unhand, unmake!”
The crude enchantments that powered those guns gave one last surge of power and faded away. Everything that held the weapons together vanished, and the once-enchanted guns collapsed into parts.
The two gangsters tried to run, but Sumitra moved at a speed worthy of a vampire and struck their pressure points. Tenoch made sure they fell gently.
“Sorry it took me so long,” Sumitra said as she massaged her hands. “I had to neutralize the parents.” She looked at the knocked-out Latin Kings, than at Paco. “Damn…”
“It could’ve been worse,” Kuzma said. “Nobody died. Nobody is even seriously injured.”
“Yeah,” Sumitra said. “Definitely could’ve been worse.”
She pulled out her phone and called her people. A pair of low-level mages walked through the ward and started cuffing the prisoners.
“What are you going to do with them?” I asked Sumitra.
“Pack them up and interrogate them,” she said without missing a beat. “I would really like to talk to Paco. He didn’t smuggle the weapons, but he probably knows the people who did.”
“What about his parents?” I asked. “We can’t leave them here.” As far as the Latin Kings were concerned, Paco failed them, and I wouldn’t put it past them to take it out on his family.
“I’ll contact the CHA. They might be able to move them to Dearborn Homes until things cool down.”
Dearborn Homes had gangs, but none of them were allied with Latin Kings - and Latin Kings would not go into enemy territory for petty revenge.
“Alright,” I said. “Are the weapons secured?”
“They’re warded. Retrieval will pick them up in two minutes.”
I breathed a huge sigh of relief: “Good.”
“I have a better question,” said Tenoch. “What happens to the kid once you are done interrogating him?”
“Point,” said Sumitra. “If we let him go, the Latin Kings will definitely come after him. And after all the magic energies he’s been exposed to… he might actually develop a talent. If he falls into Latin Kings’ hands, they’ll stick him in a sweatshop and run him dry.”
And if Sumitra puts a tracking spell on him, they might be able to track him back to the sweatshop and shut it down.
The thought made me shudder.
“I’m sure the city could use some low-level talents.” I suggested. “If he works for the city, it would be easier to protect his family.”
Plus, this way, he would at least have a choice.
Sumitra considered it for a moment: “That would depend on how he answers our questions.”
“Fair enough.”
The sun was already half way to dusk. In the sunset light, the Lathrop Homes seemed brighter, rosier. The light shone against the windows, which made the buildings seem even brighter.
And that’s when I noticed it.
Hundreds of eyes stared at us from all angles. They hid behind the curtains, because nobody wanted trouble, but they kept watching.
Ectoplasm dripped from Megagun as it shifted into a more discreet form. The runes of Kuzma’s gun dimmed. Tenoch sniffed the air uneasily. Everybody’s defensive enchantments lit up, only to dull again.
“Barriers are up again,” Kuzma commented.
Of course they did. Whatever pass we got from Mrs. Thomas would only last so long. And now, there were way too many people staring at us. They couldn’t see magic, but they could see a bunch of strangers standing over a body of one of their own, taking away neighborhood kids.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I think we’re about done here.”
We stayed to make sure the retrieval team was safe and escorted them back to the parking lot. Kuzma carried Paco with us and handed him off to Gibbons, who took him downtown, to one of the Research Division’s secret underground holding cells for prisoners with magical talents.
Sumitra thanked all of us for a job well done. I nodded along. All things considered, we accomplished a lot. Nobody died. The enchanted weapons were off the street. And the Research Division might actually be able to shut down the sweatshop that produced them.
That was good.
Except I didn’t feel all that accomplished. I just felt tired. Tired and disappointed.
But all I told Sumitra was, “You are welcome. And if you need anything else, let me know.”
As I walked home, I took out my phone.
“This is Jasmine Morikawa’s voicemail,” the recording replied. “If you’d like to leave a message, please make it a good one.”
“Hey, Jas,” I said. “Just wanted to let you know that everything was great. I’m a little bruised, but hey, at least it’s nothing painful. I hope that your patients are doing well. I… I think I sometimes forget that what you do… You literally have people’s lives in your hands. I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Being responsible.”
Silence. Nothing but silence on the other end of the line.
“Anyway, I’m rambling. Sorry about that. Take care, Jas. I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and speed-dialed Dani.
God… I couldn’t wait to get home.
2011 (c) strannik01
The characters of Kuzma Ozyoskiy and Sumitra Laungani originally appeared in stories I wrote back in college. I had to go back into my archives and look up their names. Seeing my earlier writing was... humbling, to say the least.
I would like to thank mysticowl and noelct for helping me with some plot issues. I would also like to thank phoenix_anew for editing the story and providing some useful feedback and suggestions.
As always, comments and criticisms are welcome and very much encouraged.
Still My Ward
Being the Chief of Staff of the Alderman of the 1st Ward had its perks, and having my own office was definitely one of them. Sure, it was small office, but at least it wasn’t a cubicle. I just wish it didn’t feel so small when I had visitors.
“Dan,” Sumitra Laungani, head of the research division of Chicago’s Department of Special Events, gave me a brief hug. “It’s been a while. I’m glad you could see me on such short notice.”
“If you wanted to see me in person,” I said, “it had to be important. Come on, sit down.”
To most people, Sumitra’s title meant nothing. Chicago’s bureaucracy is notoriously bloated, and no one can keep track of everyone. But those who were magically sensitive knew the truth.
The Research Division dealt with paranormal threats - or anything that might turn into a paranormal threat. And out of all the people who worked in the Research Division, no one had quite as much raw power as Sumitra. She wasn’t quite the most powerful mage in the greater Chicagoland area, but she was definitely in the top fifteen.
But you wouldn’t know that from looking at her. At the casual glance, Sumitra was a fashionable woman in her mid-to-late 20s. Her outfit could be best described as business-class hipster - the sleek boots, the fashionable top and jacket, the pants that towed the careful line between casual and official. She wore a necklace, a few rings and a long scarf - every one of them magically charged and enchanted. Even the black-rimmed glasses she wore had magical properties.
Sumitra had a face that shouldn’t have worked on paper. Her chin was too long and narrow, her eyes were set a little too deeply and her nose was a bit too big. But somehow, it all added up to something that caught your attention and never quite let go.
Oh, if only I were a few years younger. And, you know, single.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I’ll get right to the point. Yesterday, the Chicago Police Department anti-gang task force intercepted a Chicago-bound truck full of the semi-automatic weapons at the Chicago Skyway tolls.” In other words, at the Chicago/Indiana border. “The truck belonged to the Latin Kings. What CPD didn’t know was that the weapons were magically altered.”
I suppressed a shudder. Enchanted weapons were messy. Take one and you could hit the target without really aiming, dodge enemy gunfire and shoot way more bullets than a normal weapon could possibly hold. In other words, magical semi-automatics could do everything you’d expect them to do in action movies.
Latin Kings were one of the most notorious gangs to ever come out of Chicago. It wasn’t really that long ago that their turf wars with Mexican gangs turned everything east of Western Avenue into a meat grinder.
Crap.
“Let me guess,” I rubbed my forehead. “The Latin Kings tried to fight their way out.”
“They did. It’s a good thing they weren’t facing run-of-the-mill gangsters. The officers knew exactly how the guns worked,” which interfered with magic, “and there were more officers than there were gangsters,” which made the interference stronger. “A few officers were wounded, but nobody died.”
That was a relief, at least.
“Do you have any idea where the Latin Kings got those things?”
“From Indiana,” Sumitra said, leaving the implicit ‘of course’ hanging in the air. “The Tri-County Task Force thinks they set up a sweatshop somewhere east of Gary, but they claim they don’t have the resources to track it down. And you know what? They’re probably right. The state government doesn’t know what they do; the counties are too busy arguing over taxes to fork over any extra funding. CTF barely have enough funding to hunt down werewolves and rust demons.” Sumitra’s face wrinkled with disgust. “You know, every time I think the City Council is full of petty and corrupt assholes, I look east and remind myself that no - it could be sooo much worse.”
I chuckled. Sure, the City Council paid our salaries, but that didn’t mean we had to kiss its ass twenty-four/seven.
“Anyway,” Sumitra continued. “When my people went down to investigate, we discovered that another truck full of enchanted weapons managed to get by us. We tracked it all the way down to Kennedy before the trail went cold. McKenzie calculated that they stashed it in Lathrop Homes.”
Double crap.
Julia C. Lathrop Homes were a part of the 1st Ward most people like to pretend doesn’t exist - a public housing development across the river from the rest of the ward. When it was built, it was in the middle of a decent-sized industrial area. Since then, factories gave way to big-box stores, and older working-class buildings were converted into middle-class condos. The developers keep hoping Lathrop Homes would just go away, but this hasn’t happened yet - though not for the lack of trying.
Lathrop Homes weren’t as dangerous as, say, Cabrini-Green, but they still had gangs. The Latin Kings controlled everything north of Diversey, and there are plenty of places where they could stash the weapons.
McKenzie was the best fate reader on the city payroll. Even if she were wrong, she wouldn’t be that far off.
“Do you think the semis are still there?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” Sumitra adjusted her glasses. “The Latin Kings could’ve moved them already. But I doubt it. The weapons are bleeding energy all over. So long as they’re stashed somewhere, the barriers will protect them, but once they move them, we’d be able to track them again. And they know it. They’re probably waiting until we stop looking.”
“Probably.”
The thing about weapons like this is that they weren’t enchanted by a mage with actual skill and practice. The Latin Kings (or whoever the hell they bought those guns from) smuggled in immigrants who showed even an ounce of magical talent and forced them to crudely hammer in the enchantments they copied off some spell book. And they kept at it until the poor people completely burned out.
The people who ran the magic sweatshops didn’t care. There will always be poor, desperate people trying to get into the country any way they could.
“You know,” I said, “when you said you had an emergency that couldn’t wait, I really hoped you were exaggerating.”
“And I really hoped I would get to go home early for once,” Sumitra grumbled. “But it never works like that, does it?”
“Nope,” I nodded “So, what’s the plan?”
“A raid,” Sumitra’s expression turned deadly serious. “We’re going to hit Lathrop Homes at 6:00 PM. The sooner we get those weapons off the street, the better I’ll feel. Heck, I would march down there right now, but I need to get my people in place, prepare reports and…notify the alderman.”
“Consider him notified,” I quickly assured her. “He knows the score, and I know he doesn’t want enchanted weapons in his ward any more than we do.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“The Alderman and I will spin it somehow.”
“Good. That’s good,” Sumitra’s expression barely faltered. “Thank you. But… Well, there is one more thing I wanted to ask you.”
I didn’t like where this was going. No, I didn’t like it at all.
“I’m listening,” I said.
“We’ll be entering Latin King territory,” Sumitra bit her lip. “And we don’t exactly have any legal authority on our side. I was kind of hoping we could borrow yours.”
“I see…”
Every private space has built-in magical resistance. It’s nothing the non-magical types need to worry about, but for magically sensitive types like Sumitra and I, it becomes a barrier. It dulls our powers, making every spell harder to pull off. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the owner gets a power boost. In his own apartment, even the weakest mage can fight Sumitra to a standstill.
You can push back against the barriers, but it requires a lot of power. Real-world authority gives you a nice shortcut. So long as you can legitimately claim any authority over the area, you push back against the barriers without spending much energy, and it gives a nice boost to your spells and the spells of everyone you work with.
“If you want authority, why not ask the Alderman?” I said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”
“He would,” Sumitra acknowledged. “But he doesn’t have any magical combat experience. You do.”
“I have a magic gun!” I pointed out. “That’s it.”
“That’s still more than the Alderman. Besides, do you have any idea how much crap I’d have to deal with if he dies on my watch? I’d be fired so fast you’d see skid marks all the way down Dan Ryan.” Sumitra looked me straight in the eye. “Listen… If you don’t want to help, fine. I can’t really force you. And if you’re scared….”
“If course I’m scared,” I threw up my hands. “I don’t want to die. Hell, I don’t want to get hurt at all. But that’s not really the point, is it?”
In Chicago, people tend to expect their ward offices to solve just about every problem that falls on their laps. And ward offices tried their best to help. You think there’s too much garbage on your street? We’ll send someone to clean it up. Did you find graffiti on your building? The office will remove it and make sure the local police district investigates.
And when somebody hides enchanted weapons in my ward, I am supposed to take care of it, one way or another.
Besides, if Sumitra goes in without me, her people might get hurt. They might die. Residents of Lathrop Homes might die in the crossfire. Sumitra would try to protect everyone, but even she had limits.
I took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll do it. On one condition.”
“What is it?” Sumitra’s response was curt.
“Your people are used to dealing with paranormals. Their first instinct is to shoot to kill. The Latin Kings may be scum, but they’re human beings. Their bodies won’t turn to dust. If any of them die, we will have to answer to their parents and the entire Lathrop Homes community. The Alderman will back you, but positive spin can only take you so far. So can you please tell your people not to kill anyone unless it’s absolutely unavoidable?”
Sumitra looked me over. I could see her thoughts racing across her face at lighting speed as she tried to work out the full implications of what I was asking. Then, she relaxed:
“Alright, that sounds fair. But if something does go wrong…”
“The Alderman and I will support you. I promise. All I’m asking for is a good faith effort.”
Sumitra nodded. “We can do good faith effort. Do you need anything else? Amulets? Weapons?”
“No, I’m pretty sure I have what I need. Save them for your people.”
Sumitra’s smile was brief - so quick you could almost miss it.
“We’re going to be staging the raid from the CHA administrative building parking lot,” she said, her tone still all business. “You know where it is?”
“The corner of Clybourn and Diversey?”
“You’re good.”
“Looking over ward maps all day does that,” I smiled. “Listen, I still got a lot of things I need to do, but I’ll try to be there by 5:40.”
“Sure,” Sumitra said. “And… Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll try to do my best.”
-------
Over the next few hours, I tried to focus on work. Thankfully, there is no such thing as a slow day in the Ward Office. Between constituent complains, permits, petitions, memos and reports to the City Council, my staff and I had our hands full. But as afternoon entered its final stretch, the reality of what I was going to do this evening crawled into my subconscience and launched a hostile takeover. By 4:30 PM, I realized that I was getting too distracted to be useful to anyone, so I tried to wrap up as much as I could and passed the rest on to the staff.
I locked myself in the office and began preparing my defenses.
I stripped down to my underwear and laid my clothes out on the floor. I tossed the tie aside - wearing a tie in combat was just asking for someone to pull it and choke you.
First thing first - establish the anchors.
I walked over to the pictures on my desk. Danielle Chui, my girlfriend for the past few years, looked past the camera, smiling without showing any teeth. Jasmine Morikawa, a long-time friend and a whole lot more, tried to hold on to her hat as the powerful Lake Michigan currents crashed into the beach behind her. Aside from her hair, it really was amazing how much she didn’t change over the past four years. And finally, there was my son, Toshiro. Jas and I were pretty young when we had him, but part of me is still couldn’t quite believe he was old enough to be in high school. Jas took this picture at a track meet, just after Toshi got his medals. In a few seconds, his friends would pile on. Dani would try to shoo them away before they ruined the shot and Jas would laugh and keep clicking.
I traced my fingers along the frames, drawing energy from memories, absorbing everything those images represented. That energy crackled at my fingertips as I crouched down and pressed them against the fabric, leaving focus points at the tips of the cuffs of the sleeves and pants, near the belt, at the collar, right over where my heart would be. Then, I traced the lines between the points, connecting them so that the energy would flow in just the right way.
But it would take a spell to turn that energy into proper enchantments.
“Broni i Chroni,” I chanted in Polish, the language of my family and the people who first settled in this ward. “Defend and Protect. Defend and Protect.”
The spell didn’t need to be complex - it just had to be meaningful.
The energy surged along the energy lines, blossoming into complex patterns that reminded me of tree branches. A few moments later, the glow dimmed. My clothes still felt warm. The enchantments were in place.
Now, what I needed was the energy to keep it going. I needed fresh, raw emotional energy.
So I called Dani’s office. Unless there was some kind of an emergency, she had to be there.
“Dan?” She said with a little tinge of concern “Hey. What’s going on?”
“I might be running a little late,” I told her after we exchanged greetings. “We have a situation in Lathrop Homes. It could get messy.”
What I did was manipulative as hell. For this defensive enchantment to work, I needed very specific kind of energy - the energy that comes when your loved one might be in danger and you want to protect them. In other words, Dani had to worry about me. I didn’t want her to worry about me.
On the other hand, she’d hate it if I didn’t keep her in the loop. And I usually did try my best to keep her in the loop. She wasn’t sensitive to magic, so I couldn’t tell her everything, but I could still tell a lot.
I waited for her to say something. Anything. Then, I heard her inhale and exhale.
“Is there any way you can get out of it?” she said.
“No. I wish I could, but it’s not the sort of thing I can avoid. Sorry.”
Another pause.
“I understand,” she said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Just be there when I get home. I’d ask you to make me some tea, but it would probably be too cold.”
“I can always heat it up, you know,” her chuckle came out forced, but I appreciated it. “It’s amazing what you can do with microwaves those days.”
“I know,” I smiled. “And if anything happens…”
“Don’t worry,” her voice quivered. “I understand. Please, take care of yourself.”
“I will,” I said. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I took her love, that stubborn, protective love, and poured it into the spell.
Technically, it was enough. But I wanted more than just enough. I wanted the best protection I could conjure. And, for that, I needed something extra. I needed someone who knew me knew me better than anyone. Someone who would not give me any slack, but wouldn’t want to see me die, either.
So I called Jas.
She worked at the Evanston Hospital - the oldest and biggest hospital in our hometown. When she picked up, the peeps and shouts poured through the speakers.
“I’m at work right now,” she said, raising her voice just enough to out-shout the hospital. “Is this important?”
“Kind of. I’m going into a potential gang warzone. Ward business. Just figured you’d like to know.”
Dani liked honestly, but she also hated overreacting. If she was worried, she tried her best not to let it get to her. Not Jas.
“Shit!” I heard some commotion in the background, but Jas didn’t seem to notice. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. There is some trouble in… remember how I told you we have a public housing project in my ward?”
“Yeah. Lathrop Homes. You have to go there?”
“It’s not like it’s Cabrini-Green,” I offered.
“It still has gangs!”
Evanston was a pretty well off city, but it shared a border with Juneway Terrace, one of the dodgier parts of Chicago’s northern outskirts. When people get hurt there, they tended to wind up in Evanston Hospital. If anyone knew exactly how badly a person could get hurt in a gunfight, it was Jas.
“I know,” I said. “And I’m going to try my best not to get shot. It’s just… If something does happen, I wouldn’t want you to find out from the Tribune.”
Jas cursed under her breath. “God damn it, Dan. Why did you have to drop this shit in the middle of my shift? Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse…”
“I’m sorry, Jas. I shouldn’t have called.”
She sighed: “No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m just… I almost had a patient die on my watch and she might still… I don’t know. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“She’s going to be fine. You’ll see,” the words came automatically. I was so used to comforting Jas that it was almost a reflex.
“Thanks. ” She shouted ‘I’m coming!’ at someone on the other end and said: “Look, I have to run. I’ll call you when I finish my shift, and you better pick up.”
“I will. Good luck, Jasmine.”
“You too.”
She hung up. Another boost of energy surged across the floor. Complex energy that defied simple nouns - not quite love, not quite friendship and somehow all of the above.
The emotional energies crossed each other and stirred. I had to stabilize it, quick.
“Defend and protect.” I chanted. “Defend and protect. By the ties that binds us, by the history that defines us - defend and protect!”
The two energies clashed one last time before finally settling next to each other.
There.
Now, was it worth it? Upsetting two of the most important women in my life - was it really worth it?
God, I hope so.
I got dressed. The clothes felt comfortable and warm. The patterns pressed softly against my chest.
It would wear off in a few hours, but for now, it was… nice.
I reached into the drawer, pulled out my magic gun and headed out the door.
-----
One nice thing about having a boss who is aware of magic is that you don’t have to think of any excuses to leave office early. Very few people make the living off their magical talents. Most have regular, mundane jobs, and they have to fit the magic around them. It doesn’t always work. Half-assed excuses might work in movies and comics, but they only get you so far in real life.
Of, at least, that’s been my experience.
The local Chicago Housing Authority administrative building sat right at the tip of Clyborn/Diversey intersection, behind a lawn with a tall flagpole. The parking lot itself was behind the building. When I got there, I saw that it was completely full. I wondered how Sumitra was going to stage a raid from a full parking lot.
And then I realized that I was a moron.
The parking lot was warded. Of course it was warded. How else would Sumitra be able to commandeer a parking lot during rush hour?
Every instinct screamed at me to walk away, that there was nothing to see here, but I pushed on and stepped through a very convincing beat-up Ford.
“Dan!” Sumitra waved from across the lot. “Glad you could finally join us.”
“Hi, everyone.”
The parking lot actually did have a few cars. Most of them were black municipal vans. There weren’t really a whole lot of people. Adam Gibbons, Sumitra’s right-hand man, greeted me with a silent nod. A few grunt-level mages picked through the gear. McKenzie and Christina Olsen, the Division’s strongest fate readers, set up shop at folding table covered with cards, mirrors and maps. Olsen used a laptop and an iPhone. McKenzie stuck with pencils, tacks and string.
Two figures stood near the only non-black car in the parking lot - a middle-aged man in a gray suit with a waistcoat and a slightly taller man dressed head-to-toe in white runner’s clothing and a white jacket. The older man had severe features and receding, graying hairline. The younger man had his face completely covered by a white mask, a hat and tinted goggles. Both were built like athletes, which made sense - they both made their living contracting out their skills.
I would recognize those two anywhere.
“Kuzma,” I turned to the older mage. “I thought you said you’d never work for the city.”
“Masterson,” He sounded the way he usually sounded when talking to me - pointedly bored. “You are here. And still chattering.”
Kuzma Ozyorski was a gun mage - a combat mage who focused his magical talent on firearms. Which, if you ask me, was kind of limiting, but he managed to survive for over fifty years, so what do I know?
“Oh, come now, Kuzma,” the man in white walked over, his voice coming through slightly muffled “I love Dan’s chatter. A nice contrast to the whole Man-With-No-Name thing you’re doing, don’t you think?”
“Tenoch,” I held out my hand. “I knew I could count on you.”
He took my hand and shook it
“Oh, believe me, Daniel - pleasure is all mine.”
Becoming a vampire tends to bring out a person’s innermost urges. Some develop a taste for orgies and murders, but Tenoch, who’s been buying comic books since he was eight, saw his transformation as a chance to become a superhero.
Tenoch was changed recently enough to be able to move around during the day without losing powers. So long as the sunlight didn’t touch his skin, he was fine.
I scanned the parking lot again.
“Where is Adrian?”
I had known Adrian Cressman since he was ten. What he lacked in power he made up for with skill and ability to channel the magical energies that flowed through the city. That’s one of the reasons why Sumitra liked to contract him for her operations.
“Adrian is on another job,” Sumitra said a little too curtly. “And besides, we got more than enough power right here. Between our power and Dan’s authority, I think we’ll survive.”
I glanced at Tenoch. He shrugged.
Sumitra did have a point - bringing in Adrian might be overkill. It’s just that everybody knew that Sumitra liked the young mage. Some even said they were secretly dating. Or, at least, secretly banging. These were probably just rumors, but I couldn’t help but wonder.
But that didn’t matter at the moment. We had magical weapons to track down.
I turned to Sumitra and asked: “What’s the plan?”
“We’re having trouble narrowing the weapons down to a specific building. We could search it one by one, but we don’t have enough people to do it all at once. Can you bring down the barrier?”
I looked out at Lathrop Homes. From the parking lot, we could march straight into the courtyard. If I stood right in the middle, I should be able to improvise a magic circle and cut the barriers from all the building at once.
I relayed my thoughts Sumitra.
“Sounds good,” she nodded. Then, to everyone else: “Alright, we’re going in. Kuzma, Tenoch- you’re with us. Gibbons - stay here for now. Be ready to move if we call you, otherwise - protect the parking lot. McKenzie, Christina - as soon as the barrier weakens, start running location probabilities and call me the second you get something.”
“Got it, boss,” said McKenzie.
Sumitra nodded: “Everybody else - spread out and ward off every major street entrance into Lathrop Homes. Let the locals through, but if you sense anyone carrying magical firearms…”
“Block them and contain them,” one of the low-rung mages said. “Got it.”
“Good.”
“Hold on,” Kuzma piped in. “You want the four of us to walk around in the open? That’s going to draw attention.”
“None of us is black of Puerto Rican,” Sumitra replied. “We’ll draw attention no matter what we do. Now come on. Time’s a wasting.”
We stepped out of the defensive ward and walked to the courtyard, into a part of Chicago that might as well be another world.
---
Lathrop Homes were built during the Great Depression, before Modernism reduced public housing to plain, white boxes. Oh, they were still boxes, each one between 2 to 4 floors, but at least the architects tried to make them appealing. The buildings were made of nice brown and red brick. White trimmings framed every doorway, and square patterns outlined the staircases and the corners of the buildings. And thanks to a beautification project a while back, a few buildings were decorated with colorful Aztec-themed mosaics.
Looking at them now, I could see plenty of broken windows, scorch marks and graffiti on the doors, but it didn’t take much to imagine a time when those buildings were new and beautiful.
North of Diversey, most of the buildings were built between Leavitt and Clybourn. They faced the sidewalks, forming a nice protective barrier around the courtyard. Steam rose out of the heat vents. As we walked toward the middle, we passed a group of kids playing soccer. Their parents checked their watches nervously. Everybody knew that, in a few minutes, staying outside would be too dangerous. The Latin Kings would come out of the shadows.
A few feet past the soccer field, we saw a cement circle with benches that roughly corresponded to cardinal directions and four small pillars closer to the middle. Enormous trees loomed around it, almost forming a circle of their own.
“Wow,” I said. “This is just too perfect.”
“Let’s hope a mage didn’t claim it already,” Sumitra said.
I walked in the middle and took out my city ID, ready to assert my authority against the barrier, when I heard someone calling out:
“Mr. Masterson!”
I turned around and saw a middle-aged black woman in a casual business suit and a wide-rimmed hat. She walked along the path from Clybourn - she probably just got off the bus. I reached into my mental rolodex… Aha!
Mrs. Eugenia Thomas. Social worker, community activist, member of the Lathrop Homes’ Local Advisory Council - the closest thing the projects had to official representation. Yes, I’ve definitely met her before.
“Mrs. Thomas. What can I do for you?”
“Why, Mr. Masterson - you do remember,” she smiled wryly. “I’m shocked.”
I… kind of deserved that. When Alderman Salgado ran for reelection, the race was pretty close. We needed all the votes we could get. I suggested reaching out to Lathrop Homes, the one part of the 1st Ward that candidates tend to ignore. God knows we ignored it last time.
I was only a communications director back then. I worked with the Local Advisory Council to get the voters out. The Alderman himself showed up and made a lot of promises about beefing up police patrols and preserving affordable housing in Chicago. In the end, we didn’t get quite as many voters as we wanted, but “not quite as many” was still enough.
But how often have I been back since? How often has anyone from the Ward office been back since?
“I am sorry,” I said. “I know I’ve been a stranger. But I am here now. What can I do for you, Mrs. Thomas?”
She looked into my eyes, studied them carefully and nodded:
“Actually, there is something you can do. The family in the apartment next time mine hasn’t had running water in three days. We’ve been asking CHA to repair it, but all we got back are promises that they’ll get right on it.”
Of course. Business as usual at the Chicago Housing Authority.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell you what. Give me that number of the building and the unit. If CHA doesn’t send someone by the end of tomorrow, call this number,” I handed Mrs. Thomas my business card, “and our office will take care of it - no charge.”
“Are you sure about this? Doesn’t the Ward office have more important things to do?”
“You are in our ward, Mrs. Thomas. So is everybody in Lathrop Homes. I know it doesn’t feel like it most of them time, but that doesn’t make it any less true. We will take care of you.”
Mrs. Thomas has lived in Lathrop Homes since she was a teenager. She was used to being disappointed. And she had every right to take what I said with a grain of salt.
“Thank you, Mr. Masterson,” she said. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I expect no less, Mrs. Thomas.”
It was subtle, but I could have sworn her face brightened just a little bit.
“Have a good evening, Mr. Masterson.”
“You too, Mrs. Thomas.”
And with that, she walked past us, heading towards her building on the other side of the courtyard.
I glanced at my companions.
“Did you mean all of that?” Sumitra asked, “Or are you just trying to kiss up to your constituents?”
“Both. The people of Lathrop Homes aren’t going anywhere. If we want them to vote for us, we have to take care of them.”
Or at least that’s how I was going to pitch it to Alderman Salgado.
Sumitra shook her head: “You confuse me, Dan.”
And then, her phone rang.
“What it is?” she said. “Oh, really? Okay, thanks.” Then, to us, “The barrier is down. We got the lock on the building. House number...” She moved her hands over the side of her glasses. “There it is!” She gestured at the building at the northwestern corner of the courtyard. “Let’s see… Sightbeyondsight… Second floor, somewhere at the end of the building. We need to get closer.”
We ran out of the courtyard and out on Leavitt as Sumitra shouted into her phone:
“Kastiel, Gabby, Irma- converge on Blocks 2815 - 2827 and ward them off ASAP! Nobody gets in or out but us!”
If you looked at it with Google maps, the building would resemble a blocky question mark. It followed the street in a straight line until it bent, surrounding the front yard area from three sides.
That’s where we stopped.
The front yard wasn’t much to look at. Two trees rose out of a plate of worn, beat-up asphalt, shrouding parts of it in shadow. There were three entrances - one in the middle, two on the sides.
Sumitra glanced over the building again, scanning the second floor carefully.
“Second apartment from the middle staircase!” she practically spat out. “Tenoch, you’re on the roof. Kuzma, cover the yard. Dan - with me.”
She and I strode into the central entrance and ran up the staircase. The walls were caked with decades of paint and graffiti, but you could still see some traces of old patterns on the ceiling.
The second floor hallway barely had any light. The small lamps flickered.
“Which side?” I said quietly.
“Right,” whispered Sumitra. “There are three people here. One has been exposed to magic, but I can’t tell if he has any abilities. You might want to get your gun out.”
“Not yet,” I whispered back. “We don’t know who’s in there. For all we know the Latin Kings found a family and threatened them into hiding the weapons. Waving a gun in their faces wouldn’t help.”
“Good point. Let me see if I can get something.” She traced her hand along the wall, intricate circles forming around her fingertips. “I swear, sometimes I think the astral plane runs on dial-up. Here we go. Four people live in this unit. Alberto and Silvia Gutierrez… They have two children - Lucia and Paco. It won’t give me anything else.”
We could get more info with a proper scouting spell - but it would take too long.
“Alright.” I thought aloud. “Both of the kids could be Latin Kings. Or they might not. And we don’t know who’s actually inside.”
“Not until we open the door.” Sumitra shrugged. “Guess we’re going to have to go in and find out”
She touched the sleeves of her coat, charging up her protective enchantments. I moved my gun to the front pocket.
Sumitra knocked on the door.
At first, no one replied. Sumitra glanced at me, and I could tell that she was prepared to force the lock open, but then, the locks clicked and we saw a middle-aged Puerto Rican couple staring on the other side.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez?” I said. They nodded. “Dan Masterson, 1st Ward Office,” I flashed my city ID. “This is Sumitra Laungani, Department of Special Events. Is your son home?
The Gutierrezes exchanged glances.
“Oh no…” Mrs. Gutierrez said. “What did he do this time.”
“Same thing he always does,” Mr. Gutierrez grumbled. “Sticks his face where it doesn’t belong. I keep telling him - everything has consequences, but does he listen? No. Of course not!”
“It might be nothing,” I tried to reassure them. “But we have a lead and we need to check it. We think your son might be hiding illegal merchandise in your apartment.”
Mrs. Gutierrez looked like somebody punched her in the gut. She even gasped.
Mr. Gutierrez glared at us: “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Please leave.”
“Sir,” Sumitra said. “We are not out to get your son. We are just trying to find the…merchandise. It’s dangerous. If we don’t secure it, people might get hurt.”
“Please,” I said. “Just let us take a look inside. I promise that your son won’t be charged with anything.”
Which, ironically, was true - we didn’t have the authority to arrest anybody.
Mr. and Mrs. Gutierrez looked at each other and exchanged a few words in Spanish.
Then, Mr. Gutierrez spoke, his voice thick with reluctance:
“Okay. You take a look. Take this… merchandise and go.”
“That’s fair.”
The Lathrop Homes family units weren’t very big. Each one had a kitchen that doubled as a living room, a small washroom and two small bedrooms. Colored photos gave the drab walls a touch of life. Most of the pictures had kids - a young girl that I assumed was Lucia and an older boy.
“Paco!” Mrs. Guiterez called out “We have…”
One of the doors opened.
The first thing I noticed about Paco was that he had the Latin Kings’ five-point crown tattooed on his left shoulder.
The second thing I noticed was that he had a gun. An enchanted handgun.
“Where did you get that?” Mr. Gutierrez tried to sound stern, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice.
“Take it easy, Paco,” Sumitra’s enchantments blazed blue. “We are not trying to hurt you.”
His eyes darted at his parents, then us.
He swore in Spanish and said: “What the hell are you?”
At first, I didn’t get what he meant. But then I realized - he was holding an enchanted object. And he’s probably been holding it for a while. He could see magical energy. And Sumitra, with all her enchantments combat-ready, must have looked like she was glowing.
“Please,” Sumitra said. “We are not trying to hurt you. We just need to take a look inside your room and everything will be fine.”
And as I saw his face shift from nervousness to terror, a second horrible realization hit me. Paco didn’t know. Nobody told him anything about magic. He probably didn’t even know his gun was enchanted. He was being a good gangster, doing what he was told.
The poor kid had no idea what he got himself into.
“You had no idea what you have, did you?” I said. “You just held those boxes for your friend? Right? You had no idea what was inside?”
And as looked at him, I realized that, no, he did. He looked. He’s been in a room where enchanted weapons have been leaking for over a day, their energy bottled up inside thanks to the barriers. At this point, he probably wouldn’t need to hold an enchanted weapon to see magic.
“There are weapons in those boxes. Dangerous weapons. If you just let us take them off your hands, you will be fine. You’ll never hear from us again.”
Mrs. Gutierrez said something in Spanish. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was saying. ‘Please, son, listen to what the man has to say. Please.’ And, for a moment, he actually seemed to hesitate. But then, Paco looked back at us and his eyes turned cold.
“Fuck you,” he snarled and fired.
The bullets slammed into our clothes and dropped harmlessly, but the enchantments didn’t absorb all the kinetic energy. Sumitra staggered back and nearly tripped over a chair. I pretty much fell on my ass.
By he time we got up, Paco was already running.
Shit shit shit shit shit!
Sumitra flung her hand and the door snapped shut, but it was too late.
“Shit!” She reached for her phone. “We need to secure the weapons. Shit!”
“Just ward it! The cleaners will pick it up later!”
Paco ran, but his gun was leaking all over. I followed his trail down the stairs.
I reached inside my pocket and shouted:
“Megagun!”
Magical energy surged down my hand and the weapon morphed, growing and expanding into something my sixteen-year-old self thought was badass - enormous grip, an oversized barrel and several clear tubes sticking out the back. If it had any actual mass, I would’ve had hard time lifting it, but most of it was ectoplasm.
“Knockout mode.”
The gun sang in approval as the tubes on its back turned blue.
Outside, Paco pointed his gun at Kuzma. The older mage pulled out one of his weapons - a Soviet-made handgun with extra-long barrel covered in runes and Cyrillic letters. The runes glowed green.
“You don’t want to do this, son,” Kuzma said. “You are in over your head. Put the gun down and walk the hell away.”
I raised my own gun.
“What the fuck is this shit!” Paco cried out.
“Magic,” I said. “Real-life magic. Your friends are trying to control forces they don’t understand. They dragged you into this and didn’t bother to tell you anything.”
“Fuck you!” He jerked the gun towards Kuzma’s face, but his hands were shaking. “You’re just trying to keep my people down. Every time we get anywhere, it’s don’t do this, don’t do that… Fuck you!”
“Are you getting sick of this bullshit, Masterson?” Kuzma said. “Because I am.”
Paco cursed in Spanish and fired.
Three things happened at once. I fired. Kuzma fired. Kuzma’s bullet sliced right through Paco’s and kept going, slamming straight into the barrel. My bullet hit Paco in the shoulder.
“Razbey!” shouted Kuzma and Paco’s gun shattered into millions of harmless shards.
Paco reached for his shoulder and slumped onto the ground. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he had no magical resistance.
By the time Kuzma and I lowered our guns, Paco was out cold.
“Damn…” I mumbled under my breath.
“How long until the knockout charge wears off?” asked Kuzma as he looked over the boy
“30-45 minutes.”
“Not bad, Masterson. You could do better, but not bad.”
I smiled. “I am sorry, but was that a compliment?”
“Hold up,” Kuzma raised his hand. “Movement.”
I followed his eyes and saw someone leaning against the window of the fourth floor, on the other side of the central staircase. The window flew open…
“Sniper!” Kuzma shouted as he pushed me out of the way raised his gun.
Kuzma was fast, but Tenoch was faster. He jumped down from the roof and dove right into the open window. Seconds later, a large rifle flew out of the window. Tenoch stepped out on the ledge, dragged the sniper by the shirt collar and jumped down.
Magic stirred as I heard the sickening crunch of his bones breaking and mending.
Once his body healed, Tenoch let go of the sniper. The magic that kept Tenoch alive shielded the sniper from the laws of motion, but dropping down several floors was still too much for the kid. He tried to move his head, looked up at the sky and fainted.
Tenoch sniffed the air: “Four more,” he gestured right. “That door.”
Of course the sniper had back up. Why was I surprised?
If the gangsters were smart, they would have taken cover behind the door. But those guys had enchanted handguns. So they ran out into the yard, cover be damned, and fired.
I ducked behind the tree and ordered:
“Megagun - Knockout Mode, Scatter-fire.”
I ducked back out and pulled the trigger. Megagun spat out several bullets at once, but those goddamn enchanted guns interfered with aim. Only two bullets hit their target. One gunman clinched his arm and I heard a loud clang, but that still left three more.
Tenoch moved so fast the human eye could barely follow, but he was up against enchanted weapons. He barely managed to stay ahead of the bullets as the guns kept firing clip after self-regenerating clip. Kuzma crouched behind a tree, firing off a few bullets carefully, precisely. Another one down.
The bullets slammed into my defensive enchantments, pushing me back against the wall. I ducked back behind the tree. Enchantment or no enchantment, it still hurt like hell.
“Rustify!”
Sumitra walked out the door as the bullets dropped all around her. The remaining Latin Kings watched in shock as the metal of their guns turned dull brown.
“Unbind, unwind, unhand, unmake!”
The crude enchantments that powered those guns gave one last surge of power and faded away. Everything that held the weapons together vanished, and the once-enchanted guns collapsed into parts.
The two gangsters tried to run, but Sumitra moved at a speed worthy of a vampire and struck their pressure points. Tenoch made sure they fell gently.
“Sorry it took me so long,” Sumitra said as she massaged her hands. “I had to neutralize the parents.” She looked at the knocked-out Latin Kings, than at Paco. “Damn…”
“It could’ve been worse,” Kuzma said. “Nobody died. Nobody is even seriously injured.”
“Yeah,” Sumitra said. “Definitely could’ve been worse.”
She pulled out her phone and called her people. A pair of low-level mages walked through the ward and started cuffing the prisoners.
“What are you going to do with them?” I asked Sumitra.
“Pack them up and interrogate them,” she said without missing a beat. “I would really like to talk to Paco. He didn’t smuggle the weapons, but he probably knows the people who did.”
“What about his parents?” I asked. “We can’t leave them here.” As far as the Latin Kings were concerned, Paco failed them, and I wouldn’t put it past them to take it out on his family.
“I’ll contact the CHA. They might be able to move them to Dearborn Homes until things cool down.”
Dearborn Homes had gangs, but none of them were allied with Latin Kings - and Latin Kings would not go into enemy territory for petty revenge.
“Alright,” I said. “Are the weapons secured?”
“They’re warded. Retrieval will pick them up in two minutes.”
I breathed a huge sigh of relief: “Good.”
“I have a better question,” said Tenoch. “What happens to the kid once you are done interrogating him?”
“Point,” said Sumitra. “If we let him go, the Latin Kings will definitely come after him. And after all the magic energies he’s been exposed to… he might actually develop a talent. If he falls into Latin Kings’ hands, they’ll stick him in a sweatshop and run him dry.”
And if Sumitra puts a tracking spell on him, they might be able to track him back to the sweatshop and shut it down.
The thought made me shudder.
“I’m sure the city could use some low-level talents.” I suggested. “If he works for the city, it would be easier to protect his family.”
Plus, this way, he would at least have a choice.
Sumitra considered it for a moment: “That would depend on how he answers our questions.”
“Fair enough.”
The sun was already half way to dusk. In the sunset light, the Lathrop Homes seemed brighter, rosier. The light shone against the windows, which made the buildings seem even brighter.
And that’s when I noticed it.
Hundreds of eyes stared at us from all angles. They hid behind the curtains, because nobody wanted trouble, but they kept watching.
Ectoplasm dripped from Megagun as it shifted into a more discreet form. The runes of Kuzma’s gun dimmed. Tenoch sniffed the air uneasily. Everybody’s defensive enchantments lit up, only to dull again.
“Barriers are up again,” Kuzma commented.
Of course they did. Whatever pass we got from Mrs. Thomas would only last so long. And now, there were way too many people staring at us. They couldn’t see magic, but they could see a bunch of strangers standing over a body of one of their own, taking away neighborhood kids.
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I think we’re about done here.”
We stayed to make sure the retrieval team was safe and escorted them back to the parking lot. Kuzma carried Paco with us and handed him off to Gibbons, who took him downtown, to one of the Research Division’s secret underground holding cells for prisoners with magical talents.
Sumitra thanked all of us for a job well done. I nodded along. All things considered, we accomplished a lot. Nobody died. The enchanted weapons were off the street. And the Research Division might actually be able to shut down the sweatshop that produced them.
That was good.
Except I didn’t feel all that accomplished. I just felt tired. Tired and disappointed.
But all I told Sumitra was, “You are welcome. And if you need anything else, let me know.”
As I walked home, I took out my phone.
“This is Jasmine Morikawa’s voicemail,” the recording replied. “If you’d like to leave a message, please make it a good one.”
“Hey, Jas,” I said. “Just wanted to let you know that everything was great. I’m a little bruised, but hey, at least it’s nothing painful. I hope that your patients are doing well. I… I think I sometimes forget that what you do… You literally have people’s lives in your hands. I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Being responsible.”
Silence. Nothing but silence on the other end of the line.
“Anyway, I’m rambling. Sorry about that. Take care, Jas. I’ll talk to you later.”
I hung up and speed-dialed Dani.
God… I couldn’t wait to get home.
2011 (c) strannik01