Courts and Cabals 2 G.S. D'Moore (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖

lined up bumper to bumper trying to get into the scene. People littered the sidewalks and road around it; some wrapped in gauze, and others caring for the injured. It was mankind at its best; helping others, but it only came out under the worst circumstances. Cops were everywhere roping off a perimeter several blocks wide, but they waved the UN SUV through the chaos.

Seeing the chaos was enough to know some serious shit had gone down. The last time Manhattan had seen something like this was the 9/11 attempts. Sure, the wards on the Trade Center turned the planes that tried to take them down into metal pancakes, but the hunk of mass had to go somewhere. The ruined planes dropped to the earth and still caused dozens of deaths, hundreds of injuries, and millions in property damage. Even with magic, nothing was perfectly safe.

The UN building probably had better wards than any other New York skyscraper, but those wards were designed to protect from external threats. “Gods,” my jaw dropped as I looked at the top of the UN HQ.

It looked like a pissed off dragon had taken a swipe at the building. A section of the top half dozen floors had been ripped out. Smoke was pouring out of it from electrical fires that were still raging inside. Even fifteen minutes later, papers and debris were still raining down everywhere.

I poked my head up and shifted my gaze to the people on the sidewalk. New York City was called the city that never sleeps, and that’s because people were always on the move. Not today. Today, everyone was motionless and staring at the UN. A hallmark of the New York skyline had been gutted, and the surprise, shock, and fear on people’s faces was palpable.

“Did I do that?” I felt myself getting sick again, but I swallowed it like a man.

It was hard to piece everything together. Everything had been muddled by pain, and then . . . a glorious sense of total completeness. I’d never felt that before . . . never. Not when I was adopted after spending years in an orphanage. Not when I’d made my first lasting friends at St. Vincent’s, and not when I was balls deep in a perfect 10 like Dani or Xamira. Nothing even compared to the totality of that moment when the mysterious girl and I were connected.

That overshadowed everything else, and I barely remembered the ripping sensation. “Not my fault,” I told myself so I didn’t put that kind of body count on my shoulders. “Not my fault,” I didn’t like the fact that I was having to convince myself of that.

“Okay,” Vernon’s eyes darted around the area looking for potential threats. “You can sit up now.”

The action sent a shockwave through my system, which helped fight off the grogginess. I still whimpered like a beat dog as I settled into a sitting position in the center of the middle seats.

“What the fuck was that?” Vernon snarled, as he tried not to look like he was fleeing the scene of the crime.

“What was what?” I wasn’t trying to be a smart ass, but the werewolf took it that way.

He slammed on the breaks, nearly making the next car rear-end us, and twisted around in his seat to grab me by the neck. His giant hand engulfed my throat, and he squeezed gently. His fingers were like the jaws of a mechanical vise; easily strong enough to compress the arteries and my windpipe. If he wanted to, he could end me right here and now.

“I felt what happened back there,” the shifter’s composure was gone. His eyes shone like the harvest moon, and I could tell he was losing control. His inner wolf was trying to break free and tear my throat out.

“I felt reality itself rebelling against what you were doing,” he snarled, spittle flying into my face. “The very fabric of this realm was trying to stop you. So, for the last time, tell me what the fuck you were doing; or I swear to all the gods, high and low, that I will rip off your fucking head and leave your body in a dumpster.”

His hand clenched a quarter inch tighter and I gagged as air refused to work its way into my lungs. It took the big guy a moment to realize I was trying to answer before he eased up on the asphyxiation.

“I don’t know,” I coughed. “I don’t go about giving myself raging diarrhea or epileptic fits,” I massaged my throat and glared at him. “You’re a fucking mage, tell me what the fuck was happening. You seem to know a hell of a lot more than me.”

The shifter swore under his breath as he turned back to the road and hit the accelerator. People all around us were honking, but the werewolf obviously didn’t give a shit.

“I don’t know what was happening. All I know was it was profoundly wrong.”

“No shit,” I didn’t push him, but it was obvious to me that spewing rancid things out of the majority of the holes in my body was profoundly wrong.

“Who was the girl doing a great impression of hamburger helper?” I asked, when he didn’t say anything else. Her eyes had burned themselves into my brain, and despite never seeing her before, they felt so familiar.

“A girl from Australia,” he replied bluntly. “We found her when we searched the globe for incidents similar to what happened at St. Vincent’s,” he turned his head to give me a look. “If you want to come clean about what happened there, now’s the time.”

“What is it with you people and thinking that I have any idea what the hell is happening? I’m just a kid who everyone; including, apparently, the universe, is fucking with,” I played the kid card because it was true, and