Rogue Ghosts & Other Miscreants (The Guild Codex: Warped, #3)

by Annette Marie

My hand jumped into the air, finger pointing at the only possible choice: a hot pink unicorn the size of a chubby corgi with squat little legs and a sparkly, rainbow-colored horn. “No thanks,” Lienna said, pushing my arm down. “We can’t carry it.” “You won so you get a prize.” The woman tugged the unicorn down and held it out insistently. I scooped Sir Sparkles the Joy Bomb out of the woman’s hands and hugged him tightly to my chest. His beady eyes bulged and Lienna’s brown eyes rolled.

:D

I swung Sir Sparkles into their path, and the darts sank harmlessly into his thick, huggable tummy.

Oo ... Well hopefully the darts don't do significant damage

“She … she wants us to meet her for dinner.” It took a moment for Lienna’s words to sink in, then I blurted, “She’s been abducted!” “Huh?” “It’s a call for help. She can’t let her captors realize what she’s doing, so she sent an innocuous message to tip us off.”

Oo

“This”—she waved around the room—“is Shane Davila’s apartment. Former apartment, I should say.” “Dr. Bunsen Honeydew?” I exclaimed. Both women gave me a questioning look.

:)

but, more importantly, I was thrown off by seeing Blythe willingly give up a pile of folders. It felt like a queen handing over her scepter. Wait … did that mean …? “I’m the captain now,” I whispered to myself. Thankfully, Blythe didn’t hear me and continued giving instructions.

Oo

Weird. Most mythics couldn’t pin me and Lienna as MagiPol agents at a glance. We must’ve been giving off real-deal law-authority vibes tonight. Or maybe it was the box I was carrying, full of random items in evidence bags.

heh

Darius King didn’t look terrifying, not at first. A well-dressed man in his late forties or early fifties, he exuded cool competence and quiet authority. But behind his amused gray eyes were cutting intelligence and beguiling charm, which he used to manipulate anyone and everyone who put themselves in his crosshairs. At least, that’s the impression I got when he had waltzed conversational circles around me and Lienna the last time we’d tried to interrogate him.

:)

“If he’s anything like this shit stain’s other victims, he’s probably part of the foster system or a runaway or something.” “Runaway, maybe, but he’s a mythic, so he wouldn’t be in the human foster system. The MPD has their own system for orphans and abandoned kids.” A mythic foster system? That was news to me. How different would my life be if I’d ended up there instead of the human version? Would that have been possible? I had no idea if either of my parents had been mythics. Arcana, Spiritalis, and Elementaria powers were hereditary, but Psychica was the only class known for “spontaneous” development of magical abilities.

Um Lienna -- remember who you are sitting next to? Or she meant a non-spontaenous mutation mything classed kid?

I’d last seen him back in June during that exciting period of my life when I’d been on the run from MagiPol after escaping Lienna’s custody. I’d helped rob Faustus’s restaurant, and long story short, Lienna and I had faced him and his goons in a free-for-all battle where he’d tried very enthusiastically to kill me. Since then, he’d spent a couple of weeks in holding until the Judiciary Council had decided to levy a hefty fine against him and send him into a rehabilitation program. Despite working inside the MPD for over seven months, I still didn’t understand how the Judiciary Council made decisions. Whether you got a slap on the wrist, a swift execution, or a financially crushing penalty was an utter crapshoot.

><

“I’ll make this easy for you, Faustus,” I growled. “I’m going to ask some very simple questions. If you don’t answer them, my lovely colleague will remove your lungs and make balloon animals out of them.” Faustus looked more confused than scared, which was not the response I’d been going for. Maybe the balloon animal bit had undermined the threat. Lienna, on the other hand, looked more alarmed than I’d expected. Oh, yeah. Balloon animals … clowns. My bad.

lol

That could only be Shane Davila. Was he allowed to pose as an agent? And had he really gone all Hugo Weaving with that “Agent Smith” nonsense? That was the best he could come up with? Agent Henson, Agent Cantaloupe, Agent Rapscallion III. Be creative, Shane!

Or honeydo even. ;)

“Wait!” I caught her elbow. “We’re looking for a specific seller. Or, actually, we’re looking for a rogue who might be dealing with a specific seller.” “What sort of rogue?” I took out my phone and pulled up the picture I’d snapped of the Ghost’s photo. “Do you recognize this guy?” Vera pursed her lips in appreciation. “Hell, no. I’d remember a jawline like that.” “He’s hot, right?” “I’d put that photo up as a poster above my bed.” Lienna rolled her eyes at us. “We need to track him down. He’s a serial kidnapper.” Vera smirked. “If you need bait, I’d be willing to—” “You’re not his type,” I cut in. “You’re too old.” Her nose scrunched up. “Ew.”

:(

On my bucket list of agenty things I wanted to do before my inevitable death in a Smart Car-related disaster was a whole sub-list of secret agent awesomeness. Using a shoe-phone to call for backup, saving a dignitary from an assassination attempt at a fancy opera, casually opening a hidden bookshelf door to reveal a secret room full of insane weapons, state of the art computers, and expensive whiskey. And, of course, sneaking into a casino run by a terrifying cartel while on the hunt for a dastardly, untouchable outlaw.

oO

Bland Voice scoffed. “Are you upset I’ve added to your reputation? Or are you shedding that alias now that you’ve been revealed as the Crystal Druid?” So wait, the new guy was the real Ghost? But then who had we been tracking? Bland Voice had the scepter, which meant he’d sold his victims’ belongings to Brad. Or did it? Did both Sexy Voice and Bland Voice sell to Brad, the vendor unaware that two scary hooded men were peddling ill-gotten wares? My head spun with renewed confusion.

lol

“Very funny, Shakespeare,” the Ghost growled. “I don’t work with comedians either—or fools.” Hold up a hot second. Had the scary rogue man recognized my King Lear quote? Was he bantering back at me by referencing the fool? How could this guy be a literal god of manliness and well-read? My pretend crush on his unholy, broody hunkiness might’ve just shifted closer to reality.

;)

Among the shards of acrylic and twisted metal, the tentacles of the mini-kraken writhed. The Ghost in his long coat and shadowed hood stood feet away from the creature. The water nymph clung to his arm, her limbs visibly trembling. As the crowd of shocked mythics retreated, he pulled something from his belt, shook it, then tossed it into the air. It exploded into white mist. The hazy cloud roiled outward, sweeping over the crowd. They all vanished—then a scream rang out. Suddenly, everyone was screaming, and a handful of white-faced gamblers bolted out of the cloud. A thick tentacle shot through the rolling mist and caught a man’s leg.

Atta boy. ;)

I hesitated—and got angrier because I was hesitating. “What do you suggest we do?” “We arrest him and get his info that way.” I scoffed. “He kicked our asses without breaking a sweat. We’d need an entire team to take him down, and Blythe told us we’re on our own. The only way we’re getting information from him is if he gives it to us.” Her hands clenched and unclenched, then she blew out a furious breath. “Fine! We’ll meet with him. But if this backfires …”

Girl stop taking your Daddy issues out on the boy. ><

His gaze slid across the identical Kits on every side as though debating whether one was real or they were all fake—and a slow smile curved his lips. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t even amused. It was a cold acknowledgment. “Interesting.” He arched an eyebrow. “But I’m still not sharing my information first.” I let out an exasperated huff, then let the Split-Kits vanish. “Fine, I’ll go first. Lienna and I were given this case: catch the Ghost, who just abducted another teen victim. We started following the evidence but ended up tracking that other shit-wicket instead of you. We have no idea who the hell he is, why he’s impersonating you, or which one of you is the scummier scumbag.” Zak snorted with muted amusement. Maybe I was breaking through that rough, chiseled exoskeleton.

;)

“And that means Varvara’s lieutenant wasn’t as dedicated to her as she thought. He took a contract on Filip Shelton. There’s no other explanation for why he’d target someone after she died, especially an adult.” “He found a paying client two days after his former boss’s death?” Lienna murmured. “That’s fast.” “Too fast,” I agreed. “He was already supplementing his villain income with abductions.” Zak nodded sexily. How did someone nod sexily? Maybe it was the steely gaze. I needed to take notes.

:D

Zak watched me work with a Shania-Twain-esque “that don’t impress me much” expression. “They teach you this in MagiPol school?” “Not where I come from,” Lienna muttered. “I saw it on Criminal Minds,” I said. “You could learn a thing or two from Dr. Spencer Reid.” We appraised my hallucinatory multimedia presentation. There definitely wasn’t a circle anywhere on the map that screamed, “Bad guy sleeps here!” I sighed. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a pattern when I put this together.”

:) Or the old TV series "Numbers" FBI & math professor combo. ;)

“I didn’t kidnap anyone.” His emphasis on “kidnap” grabbed my attention. Just because he hadn’t abducted them didn’t mean he hadn’t done something else to those kids. “Where are they, then? In the bellies of your pooches?” “Tell you what. When the MPD starts giving a fuck about homeless mythic teens, I’ll let you know what happened to them.” My renewed revulsion toward the druid faltered. I stared at him, brow furrowed. “The MPD has a foster care system,” Lienna said sharply. “And—” Zak barked a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, sure. And their system, run by an understaffed, underfunded handful of MPD administrators who couldn’t keep track of every kid and every foster parent even if they worked a hundred hours a week, isn’t an unofficial kid auction for mythic traffickers.” My eyes bulged, and beside me, Lienna’s mouth bobbed open and closed.

:(

“By the way, Kit …” The darkness looming beyond the glare of the work light thickened. Shadows writhed to life, oozing upward like smoky tendrils. The Ghost smiled icily. “The shadows of your ‘warps’? They aren’t nearly convincing enough.” He pulled his hood up—and a swirl of shadow formed around him. The darkness swept over his body, and when it faded, he was gone without a trace. Lienna and I stared at the spot he’d vanished in frightened silence. “Shit,” I muttered weakly. “He really is the Ghost.”

;D

“Follow me or don’t. Just stay out of my way.” Lienna grumbled something under her breath, and I doubted it was complimentary. The two of us followed the mysterious, unsociable rogue into the dark tunnel. “Maybe he can sense the other Ghost,” I whispered to my partner. “How would he do that? He’s not a telethesian.” “Secret druid powers? Maybe his wolf pack is running ahead to check things out.” “Or maybe he can’t stand the idea of someone else taking the lead.” I bit my tongue. Pot, meet kettle.

:)

Maybe I should quit the MPD agent business and get into couples’ counseling. I could sport some spectacles, hold a notepad, and say, “… and how does that make you feel?” a whole bunch. Not that I needed to ask to know how my comrades felt. Lienna was furious we were letting a self-admitted murderer lead our investigation, and Zak was peeved that two rookie MPD agents were tailing him like lost ducklings. “So,” I called out, breaking the combative silence, “assuming we find this guy hanging out in his lair like Lex Luthor, what’s our plan?” “Kill him.” “Arrest him.” I sighed. “‘Kill’ and ‘arrest’ are fantastic verbs, guys, but neither constitutes a plan.” Zak looked over his shoulder at me and put a quieting finger to his lips. Oh, so no discussion needed, then? Wasn’t I silly, wanting to pause for a strategy sesh prior to a potential battle against a criminal who’d easily thwarted our collective magic once already?

oO

“Nice to meet you, Daniel. Would you like to get out of here?” “Yes,” he choked, tears filming his eyes. His gaze darted to Zak, who looked more like a jacked-up Ringwraith than a benevolent rescuer.

oO

“What happened to your shirt?” she asked after a moment, slowing until we were walking side by side. “That shit-wizard set it on fire. And my jacket. But you were probably too busy trying to outdo Zak to notice.” Her jaw locked. “I created a whole new spell back there, and it would’ve worked if that asshole druid had—” “If he’d looked six feet to his left at what you were doing, yeah,” I growled. “And his spell would’ve worked if you’d looked six feet to your right at what he was doing. But neither of you did, because you both wanted to prove you’re better.” “I wasn’t—” “Get your head out of your ass, Lienna.” “Excuse me?” I kept my eyes on the ground ahead—partly because I was still concerned about the ankle-breaking potential of the tracks and partly because I didn’t need to look at Lienna to feel the death glare she was shooting my way. “A druid-alchemist, an abjuration sorceress, and a psycho warper,” I said tersely. “Against one man. And it’s not like he’s a goddamn demon mage. But he got away because you refused to make a plan, refused to cooperate with Zak, and refused to pay attention to him in the middle of the fight. And now that bastard has Daniel and we have nothing.”

POint -- not to mention her Daddy issues with not folling policy

“There was a big sale so I picked up a bunch of them after work. If you buy in bulk, they give you this special case. I can make some recommendations, if you like.” Vinny stared at me. “You can’t bring sex toys to work.” I snapped my fingers. “Damn, you’re right. I’ll go turn myself in to HR right now. Lienna, you’d better come too. You’ll need to testify against me.” She made a half-coughing, half-choking sound. Fighting back a snicker at Vinny’s expression, I waltzed away with the briefcase in hand. Lienna hurried after me.

;)

“Close the door,” she ordered. I shut it, then warily turned. Ah. There was the furious blue-eyed laser beam of death I’d been expecting.

;)

She hesitated, her lips thinning. “The information leaks help Zak more than the kidnapper. There’s a good chance he’s the one who bought or blackmailed an agent.” I scoffed. “Zak’s been on the MPD’s radar for eight years. Do you think he, all by himself and only eighteen years old at best, bought a mole in the MPD? Compare that to Varvara, who had a whole network of criminal lieutenants running million-dollar businesses for her. Who seems more likely to have bought a mole?” “Varvara,” Lienna admitted.

he has a point

She was desperate to prove she wasn’t like her dad. But she had to know I wasn’t like her dad either, right? I wasn’t cheating the system for personal gain. Time slipped away as I vacillated between guilt for forcing Lienna into an ethically compromising situation reminiscent of her painful past with her father, and resentment that she was painting me with the same brush. She knew me better than that, right? Oh wait, she didn’t. She’d said as much herself.

as I said -- daddy issues

As soon as the latch clicked, the spot in front of it shimmered. A man in a long black coat with the hood drawn up appeared like a highly realistic hallucination. But I didn’t hallucinate. I gave other people hallucinations. The Ghost lookalike wasn’t Zak—I’d spent enough time with the real-deal hunk to tell this dude’s shoulders were lacking in muscular breadth—meaning Daniel’s kidnapper was paying me a nighttime visit.

oO

“So Blythe keeps saying, but if she spent half the energy she’s wasting on this raid on following a useful lead, our investigation would’ve been over yesterday.” “A useful lead like what?” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, indicating the briefcase on the backseat, sitting beside my backpack. “We could focus on the luminamage’s briefcase, which he wants back very badly. Or—and this is crazy, I know—we could focus on the victims. You know, the boy named Daniel who’s been in that lunatic’s care for almost forty-eight hours.” Her scowl deepened at my sarcasm. “What do you want me to do, Kit? Tell Blythe she’s dead wrong and wasting her time?” “Yeah, that’s exactly what I think you should do. It’s what I did.” “Look how much that accomplished,” she snapped. “There’s no changing her mind. She’s convinced it’s Darius.” “And you’re just going to go along with it?” I shot back. “Pretend you don’t realize this is Blythe’s revenge fantasy playing out and she’s letting a personal grudge derail our investigation?” “You’re just going along with it!”

Chickie you're the senior here.

“But that doesn’t matter,” I told her. “Even if Blythe had shit evidence, you’d still do what she says because you follow orders, and you follow rules, and you follow laws, no matter what else is going on.” And I don’t. She turned in her seat, her dark eyes pained as they met mine. “If we pick and choose what orders and rules and laws to follow, then what are we, Kit?” Pushing her door open, she climbed out. The door closed behind her with a thunk. I stayed where I was, watching through the windshield as she joined the other agents. They milled about, waiting for something before moving on Darius’s residence several houses down. What are we, Kit?

Well not a Nazi anyway -- following orders isn't exactly an strong indicator of ethics or honor.

“Fifty shades of gruyere,” I whispered in awe. The man fondled a mozzarella-based whip. “I have some very specific feta-shes.” Good god, between the stress of the investigation, sleep deprivation, lying about sex toys, and the fact I hadn’t eaten in far too long, my mind was a swirling mess of strangeness.

lol

The fur-coated lady unzipped her suitcase. She took off her glasses and replaced them with a pair of safety goggles, then grabbed two more pairs and tossed them to Zak and me. “Protect your peepers, boys.” Zak fastened his around his face and still managed to look hot as hell, while I stared at my pair, confused. “Aren’t you a thief?” I asked. “Why?” Demi shot back as she dug through the suitcase. “Are you a cop?” I made sure to keep my voice even as I replied, “No. I mean, aren’t you a lock picker or something? What do we need safety goggles for?” She pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and snapped them into place. “You don’t want any shrapnel in those puppy-dog eyes.” “Woah, hold your detonators for a hot second. Just how committed to this demi-lition nickname are you?” She gave me an impish smirk. Zak shrugged.

;)

Was she going to defibrillate the briefcase? “Clear!” she yelled, punching a button on the device. The briefcase hopped a couple of inches off the table and the red shield erupted around it. Yes. Yes, she was.

;)

“You’ll find more talented mythics with unique skills hiding from the MPD than joining it. Give me the suture thread and needle.” I passed him both. “Are you going to give me a Darth Vader speech next? ‘Give yourself to the power of the dark side. Join me and we can rule the galaxy.’” Yeah, I was mixing and matching quotations, but I was too tired and frustrated to care. And he just ignored it anyway. “How were you recruited?” he asked. “Blackmail or a plea bargain?” My jaw clenched. Captain Blythe giving me the choice between a lifetime in jail or seven years of the MagiPol life probably counted as both. “Is that a common recruitment technique?” “For powerful mythics they want to control?” He shrugged and threaded the curved suture needle.

Oo

“Was he an epic shit-stain?” “Understatement.” “Then I get it. I had a foster dad in that category.” I hesitated. “But why keep killing after that?” His green eyes turned to mine, and there was a brittle resignation in them. “Once he was dead, all the targets on his back shifted to mine. All his enemies wanted to rip me apart and all his former associates wanted to snuff me out. I kept killing to survive.” I let that sink in, feeling the weight of it. Could I have survived something like that? I doubted it. “So you’re right,” he added, returning his attention to his gory sewing. “We aren’t that alike.”

at 17 :(

Her face twisted as though this conversation was physically painful. My gaze unintentionally darted away and landed on Zak. I didn’t know what I’d expected from him, but somber consideration wasn’t it. “‘Good guys’ and ‘bad guys’ is bullshit and you know it,” he rumbled. “But she’s not wrong about your magic.”

oO

“I’m worried about you, Kit,” she said softly. “You don’t see it, but you’re going back—” “Back to my criminal ways?” The painful uncertainty clogging my lungs flashed into burning anger. “You’re right. I haven’t changed a bit. This is exactly what I did before—risking everything to save a kid’s life. Glad you noticed.” She recoiled from my venomous sarcasm. Turning away, I strode to the table and grabbed my backpack. For a second, I met Zak’s questioning gaze, the grimoire open in front of him. I turned my back on him too. “I’m out of here.” “Where are you going?” Lienna asked, concern sharpening her voice. “I don’t know, but this thing—us—it doesn’t work if we don’t trust each other.” “You don’t trust me either?” My limbs spasmed oddly as her words cut me like a knife. This whole conversation had been leading to that inevitable point, but hearing her verbalize it stung worse than I’d anticipated.

I mean he can trust you to be a rule follwing idiot? Overly focused on your Daddy issues before a kid's life ... an now an apparent phobia over his gift.

My increasingly depressing train of thought lost coherency as exhaustion took over, then derailed entirely into a burning wreckage of REM-induced abstraction. Although this time, my dreams lacked any sexy cheese closets. Thank Gouda. A loud clatter shook me from my impromptu slumber.

Oo

“I care, Kit,” she said quietly. “I’ve cared all along. But caring about a victim’s safety doesn’t mean we can go off the rails.” My eyebrows lifted. “You saved my life by going off the rails.” “That—” Her lips turned down. “That was an extreme situation.” “You were saving a life, and Daniel’s should be worth as much as mine.” She let out a slow breath. “Kit, this isn’t an ‘obedience equals failure’ and ‘rebellion equals success’ equation. I don’t follow the rules because I can’t think for myself or because I don’t care enough to break them. I follow them because when I do, I get results. I save lives and stop criminals, and the system helps me do that. It’s not perfect, but it works.” I opened my mouth, but she cut me off before I could jump in. “Not always. But most of the time.” Shifting the grimoire to my left hand, I pushed off the wall. “Every system I’ve ever been thrown into has failed me. So the rules—I have trouble trusting them. I go with my gut and that’s what’s always worked for me.” She parted her lips to speak, a worried crease in her forehead. “But,” I added before she could say anything, “shirking rules doesn’t mean I’m reverting to the rogue life or turning into a violent criminal. I was never that kind of guy, and a few hours of Zak exposure won’t change me.” “You’re right,” she whispered. “You were never that guy, not even when we first met.”

:(

Zak strode in last, his amber whip glowing and long coat billowing out behind him. He casually plucked a vial off his belt, pulled the cork with his teeth, and tossed it into the middle of his trio of enemies. The potion exploded into a gray mist, and the three rogues doubled over in violent coughing fits. And that’s why we’d brought the Ghost, aka the Crystal Druid, aka Vancouver’s most notorious rogue, who kicked ass and looked good doing it. Except as soon as I thought that, Zak faltered.

oO

“Show yourself, you sniveling weasel!” Projected Kit commanded. “Quit hiding like the spineless, subservient troglodyte you are and face me like the strapping young lad you wish you were!” Was there some irony in my insults? Hell yeah. I was hiding behind a warp and calling him out for hiding behind his light magic. Did I give a shit? Not even the tiniest mouse dropping.

;)

He had no defense and no escape from my power, from the weapon I’d turned against him: his own mind. And I finally understood, really understood, why my powers scared Lienna.

Oo

“Captain!” Vincent Park hurried over, his black leather jacket hanging open to reveal a crisp suit and white collared shirt beneath it. “The crew is about to pull it up.” I squinted at him. “Doesn’t Agent Harris wear a jacket just like that?” Vincent scowled. “Thank you, Agent Park,” Blythe said, ignoring me. He held out a dripping wet camera. “The divers are done taking photos.” Claiming the camera, Blythe waved him away. As he hastened back toward a group of crew members and agents, she turned on the camera. “So?” I prompted, vibrating with curiosity. “What is all this?” “A bounty hunter called in an incident on the helipad involving rogue sorcerers who were attempting an illegal spell. There was an altercation. The sorcerers were killed.”

ahah the 2nd story cross over point after the library. nope at 96% the 3rd isn't in this book

“What …” Lienna’s voice shook. “What is it?” Whatever it was, it was dead. I gulped my stomach down. “It looks like someone crossbred an anglerfish with Godzilla and raised the offspring in a meth lab.”

oO

“But why?” Lienna asked again, stepping toward the captain. “You could’ve gotten that memory stick from him without letting him walk.” “Keep friends close.” She tucked her clipboard under her arm. “Keep enemies closer. And keep pawns where you can use them. Agent Shen, Agent Morris, protect that memory stick with your lives—and ensure no one else ever lays eyes on it. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, ma’am,” Lienna and I chorused.

1) not really Lienna 2) where does Kit fall in the classification? Pawn?