Power Mage 5 Read online

  Then his mind was speeding away, weaving south through the raw and rugged mountains of the Chihuahuan Desert.

  Releasing a blend of Seeker and Gearhead force, he strengthened his connection to the drone and directed its onboard chip to ping him when the truck stopped.

  Then he returned his consciousness to the night world around him and jogged across the rocky ground toward his team of beautiful ass-kickers.

  2

  Pa leaned and spat tobacco juice on the gravel. He had his old 870 Wingmaster over one shoulder, an MDR slung across his back, and a pistol on both hips. “Let’s get on with this. We got bodies to bury.”

  They were gathered in the gravel driveway outside what had been Widow Callahan’s ranch house. Sadly, in the aftermath of the fight with Blanton Cherry, they had discovered the widow’s grave in the desert.

  Now, Brawley and wives lived here. He’d given his trailer to Tammy, the kids, and Hazel.

  The new girls who had opted to stay lived over on the Mitchell spread under a clear set of rules.

  Shafts of pink light were breaking across the range now. Stars were winking out overhead, and a light breeze was sighing down from the north, stirring the girls’ hair.

  “Nice work, everybody,” Brawley said, but he kept his voice level and his face serious.

  An impromptu cheer rippled across the women.

  Stepping up beside Brawley, Arabella smiled brightly out at the others, as if instead of having killed sixteen people out on the range they had just wrapped up a university dance marathon to fund cancer research.

  “Great job, everybody,” the former sorority girl chimed, clapping her hands. “I’m super proud of you guys. You really kicked butt out there!”

  Brawley looked at the pretty Bender with no expression on his face.

  Arabella started squirming. She doubled down on her big smile. Her eyes flicked from Brawley to the others and back to Brawley.

  “You done?” he asked.

  “What? I think we did a great job.” Arabella raised her voice like a cheerleading captain. “Guys, don’t you think we did an awesome job?”

  Some smiled. Others nodded. Most simply waited for Brawley.

  He said, “We hit them hard and took no losses.”

  “I thought I was going to die!” Arabella chimed in. “That explosion was so loud, and then—”

  “Pipe down, Barbie, and let Brawley talk,” Remi said.

  “But we have plenty room for improvement,” Brawley said, eyes panning across the assembly.

  People nodded, wanting results more than praise. Nothing focuses like combat.

  “Those boys meant business,” Brawley said. “Probably expected to find us sleeping in our beds. I reckon they were kindly surprised when the Red Baron killed their psi power and Nina started pounding them to hamburger.”

  “Aw, thanks, babe,” Nina said. The fight had left her shining with vitality and happiness. Of course, she was also riding the high of a huge boost after wasting so many psi mages.

  Which meant she would be extra-horny and extra wild in bed.

  Soon enough, Brawley thought.

  Tessa the electrokinetic fidgeted beside Nina, grinning nervously. Tessa was a pretty twenty-year-old with the build of a soccer player. She kept her brunette hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and never seemed to quit moving, as if she was so full of energy that full rest was impossible.

  “Nice work with the lightning strike,” Brawley said.

  Tessa’s nervous grin upgraded to a 100-watt smile.

  “Remi, Ursula, nice work on the ground. You chewed them up.”

  Ursula nodded without smiling and kept her muscular arms crossed over her spectacular breasts. The young Carnal’s skin gleamed, unblemished by scars or ink.

  Ursula was tall with the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long, toned legs of a Scandinavian Olympian. Her shimmering, white-blond hair was plaited into a thick braid that lay over one shapely shoulder. With her icy blue eyes, high cheek bones, and square jaw, she looked like a Valkyrie come to Earth.

  “Thanks, handsome,” Remi said. “But we only got to waste three of them thanks to Nina the juice hog.”

  Nina laughed. “You snooze, you lose.”

  Remi flipped Nina the bird. “Suck my dick, Muppet.”

  Nina laughed harder.

  “I wish I had gotten to kill some of them, too,” Callie grumbled beside her petite friend Luna.

  “I needed you on watch here with Pa,” Brawley said. “Thanks for keeping everyone safe.”

  The two Beasties smiled. Over recent weeks, Callie and Luna had become good friends. A strange pairing, considering the tiny, seventeen-year-old Luna was a mouse girl.

  “Nice work, Gearhead girls,” Brawley said.

  Frankie and Jaz lit up the night with their bright smiles, Jaz’s extra luminous in contrast to the rich chocolate hues of her smooth skin.

  “We need to improve our security system,” Brawley said. “That’s job one.”

  “Improve it?” Jaz said. “The system worked perfectly.” With her backward hat, black hoodie, and geeky glasses, the pretty nineteen-year-old Gearhead could have been a celebrity gamer girl.

  Brawley said, “We have to identify threats sooner. Jamaal’s call gave us an extra half hour, but we still only got into position what… five minutes early?”

  “Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds, husband,” Sage reported.

  “Thank you, Robbie the Robot,” Remi said.

  Sage wrinkled her nose, walking her glasses up the bridge. “Without Jamaal’s early warning, we would have been forced to split into groups. Fighting would have occurred closer to our homes. A single blast like the one that nearly struck you might have cataclysmic effects in that arena.”

  That thought knocked some levity out of the group.

  “We can’t count on Jamaal to warn us,” Brawley said. “We need to know sooner and buy some time.”

  “So, you want us to extend surveillance beyond our property?” Frankie asked. “We could use more drones and create an additional flight pattern, farther out.”

  Jaz frowned. “Hmm. Lot of ground to cover. Lots of variables. I’d need a whole new algorithm, that’s for sure. And we’d probably need to quadruple Neuromancer’s speed and power.”

  Neuromancer was Jaz’s name for the supercomputer she’d built to monitor ranch security.

  “Order whatever you need,” Brawley said.

  Jaz looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Even with extra power, there will be an adjustment period where algorithmic shifts might cause Neuromancer to underestimate a closer threat.”

  “We’ll work it out,” Brawley said. “I also want to set up caches in defensive positions across the ranch. Guns, ammo, water, triage, comm.

  “Sage, you and Hazel sort out the best places. Jaz, have Neuromancer come up with a list, too. Then you guys can compare notes and show me what you come up with.”

  Spotting Yolanda at the back of the group, he realized that he had forgotten to thank the short, curvy Cosmic whose dragon illusion had flushed the final assassin from hiding.

  Now Yolanda stood with her nose pointed at the sky, apparently studying the stars, which were fading as pink light suffused the east, heralding the dawn of a new day.

  “Good work out there, Yolanda. That was one hell of an illusion.”

  Yolanda lowered her eyes to blink at him. Her irises were almost as dark as her pupils, giving her stare a haunted quality and adding to her sad and creepy vibe, one part lost child, one part soul-eating ghost-thing.

  She served as a constant reminder of how difficult it would be to find a Cosmic to bond with. And with only two strands left to crack, that was becoming a bona fide problem.

  Was that a hint of a smile on Yolanda’s tiny mouth or a trick of the light?

  Brawley had no damn idea. Whatever the case, Yolanda gave no other reaction, so he moved on, holding up his walkie talkie for the whole group to see.

  “Next problem. Y
’all were talking over each other.”

  All around the semicircles, women nodded. Except one.

  “In all fairness, it was an extremely stressful moment, sir,” Arabella said. “Perhaps you should be more understanding of the girls.”

  “Bullshit,” Brawley said. “These walkie talkies are for crucial information only. If the line is tied up, people are going to die.”

  “No need to reinvent the wheel, love,” Frankie suggested. “We can look up military protocol and follow their lead.”

  “Good idea,” Brawley said. “Track that down this morning, darlin, and we’ll take a look at it over lunch.”

  “Will do,” Frankie said, all dimples. “I’m guessing you want me to spend the rest of my time on the RV?”

  Brawley nodded. “You guessed right, darlin. How’s your mysterious project coming along?”

  Frankie beamed with excitement. “Great. Operation Apache Glide is almost ready. I can’t wait for you to try it!”

  As dawn broke over the range, Brawley covered the rest of the day’s marching orders and cut everybody loose.

  His people broke apart, drifting toward their various tasks.

  Arabella waggled her fingers and moved hastily toward the vehicles. “Okay,” she chimed, “bye-ee!”

  “Hold it right there, darlin,” Brawley said.

  Arabella froze in her tracks, shoulders hunched with sudden tension. But when she turned back around, she was smiling as if everything was sweet as a Georgia peach.

  Feigning confusion, Arabella touched her fingertips to her round breasts. “Are you referring to me, sir?”

  “You get your ass back here,” Brawley said.

  Arabella laughed, doubling down on the confused act. “But sir, I thought you wanted me to help with meal prep today. It takes a long time to prepare palatable and nutritious meals for such a large group of hungry people.” She turned to the remaining women. “Didn’t he say—”

  “Cut the playacting and get over here,” Brawley said, pulling the pretty Bender’s hobble collar from his pocket.

  “Oh, that ugly old thing again?” Arabella moaned, making a face like she’d done a shot of lemon juice.

  Brawley nodded.

  “But I helped you.”

  Brawley nodded some more.

  “And you said if I helped you—”

  “I said we’d see. In time.”

  Arabella’s jaw dropped wide open. “But the other girls don’t have to wear their collars.”

  “I trust them.”

  “But I’m loyal to the cause, to you,” Arabella said. “I shouldn’t have to wear a collar. I was a big help tonight. Besides, whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “Arabella’s right,” Luna piped up.

  Which was weird. Normally, the tiny Beastie was too timid to bite a biscuit.

  But now the mouse girl strode forward looking brave enough to shoot craps with the devil himself. “Arabella proved herself tonight. She was brave and loyal.”

  “Oh, why thank you, Luna,” Arabella cooed. “That is so sweet of you to say, dear. And accurate, of course.”

  Brawley looked at them both. “Arabella, have you ever manipulated anyone on this ranch?”

  “Are you seriously asking if I would manipulate my very own people?” Arabella asked, touching her bosom again and parting her full lips in mock disbelief.

  “These women are my friends,” Arabella protested dramatically. “No, more than friends. They are my sisters. And I must say that I am disappointed, sir, that you would even pose such an insensitive question after all I have done for you and yours.”

  “Please listen to her, Brawley,” Luna insisted with uncharacteristic boldness. “Arabella is always so kind and thoughtful. She has done so much for us girls.”

  “Bullshit,” Brawley said. He crossed the gravel, grabbed a handful of Arabella’s thick blond locks, and tugged her toward him. “You’re slicker than a boiled onion.”

  The tug was gentle, but Arabella cried out as if he’d torn out half of her hair. “Unhand me, you brute. I am a lady!”

  “You’re manipulating Luna right now.”

  “I never!” Arabella gasped. “Sir, you wrong me by even suggesting such a thing!”

  Brawley pulled down on her hair, lifting the chin of her pretty, heart-shaped face. Arabella’s cheeks were red. Her big, blue eyes shined with desperation as Brawley lifted the collar and slipped it around her slender neck.

  “Wait!” she pleaded. “Hear me out, sir. This is all a misunderstanding.”

  Feeling a warm tickle glance off his mind, Brawley laughed bitterly. “Darlin, you don’t know when to quit. I’m shielded, remember? You try that shit again, I’ll take you over my knee and spank your ass till it’s red as a cherry.”

  Arabella’s mouth dropped wide open. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Brawley clicked the hobble, cutting off her psionics and freeing Luna, who blinked her oil-drop eyes and scampered off.

  “Try me next time I decide to take this thing off you,” Brawley said, “and we’ll just see if I dare.”

  Arabella glared at him, stamped a sandaled foot on the ground, and stormed off toward the vehicles. “It isn’t fair, you callous, cold-hearted brute!”

  Remi sidled up beside Brawley, slipping her arm into his. “Why don’t you just get it over with and bang her, dude?”

  3

  Brawley watched the hobbled hottie climb huffily into the truck. She had an ass made for slapping, that was for sure.

  “Think about it,” Remi continued. “You’d kill two birds with one stone. Crack your strand and put Arabella’s ass permanently in line.”

  Nina appeared on Brawley’s other side, taking that arm in her own. “Don’t even think about it, babe. You’d break Tammy’s heart.”

  “I’ll do what I reckon is right,” Brawley said.

  Remi had a point. Arabella was a pain in the ass, but bonding would fix that.

  And yet something held him back. Pride, perhaps. Or maybe it was common sense. Whatever the source, it didn’t feel right, banking on bonding to fix the raw materials. If he was going to get with Arabella, he would need to trust her first.

  Tammy, on the other hand, was everything he could want in a wife. Beautiful, smart, down-to-earth, a great mother to her children, and a hard worker who’d grown up on a farm and didn’t mind getting her hands dirty.

  But Tammy was still holding back. Part of it was the kids, of course.

  Not that Ty and Hannah would have a problem with Tammy and Brawley getting married.

  When Ty had first arrived, he’d guarded his mother fiercely, practically growling every time Brawley passed.

  Now the kid followed him everywhere. Whatever Brawley did, Ty wanted to shadow him.

  Brawley didn’t mind. He liked the kid. Ty was a tough little son of a gun and didn’t talk too much.

  Hannah blabbed all the time, but she was sweet as cherry pie and loved to sit on Brawley’s lap, so she already had him wrapped halfway around her finger.

  But Tammy understandably wanted to check her math, cross her t’s, and dot her i’s before hitching her wagon, kids and all, to another man.

  Brawley respected that.

  Yet something else was also holding the good-looking Bender back.

  Fear, Brawley reckoned. But fear of what, precisely, he couldn’t say.

  One of these days, he planned to ask her. Lay it all out. See what she wanted, what she needed.

  “And right now,” he continued, “I reckon I’d better head over to Red Haven and check on you-know-who.”

  Dozens of times per day, he visited Red Haven, hoping to rendezvous with the mysterious woman who’d taken The Tome of Seven Strands.

  The result was the same, time after time.

  Nothing.

  No woman. No tome. No holographic message.

  And no third gift, whatever the hell that was.

  But he kept checking. He had to find her, get the
book back, and claim his final inheritance.

  Needless to say, he was pissed.

  Maybe the red-haired woman intended to return his things but hadn’t had a chance yet. She didn’t know who or where he was. Time dilation made reuniting at Red Haven tricky. And she apparently had a lot going on and a lot of people counting on her.

  So yeah, maybe she was still fixing to return his book and give him the third gift.

  But he kindly doubted it.

  He reckoned he’d been swindled.

  That, or maybe the mysterious woman had gotten herself killed. If so, he would never see her or the tome ever again, and he would never even know what the third gift was.

  All he could do was keep going back.

  So much of life boils down to that. You set your mind on something and keep showing up, day after day.

  It can drive a man crazy, sticking to a plan and pushing hard day after day, but it sure beats getting desperate, switching things up, and going off the damn rails.

  “Not so fast, Brawley,” Frankie said, stepping in front of him. “Take us with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Duh,” Remi said. “We haven’t fucked for hours.”

  “Y’all are incorrigible,” Brawley said. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be back.”

  “Please?” Callie purred from behind him. Her slender arms encircled his waist, and he felt the cat girl’s lean body press into his back. “Please, Brawley? I’m aching for you.”

  “My sister-wives are correct,” Sage announced. The sexy former librarian started unbuttoning her white blouse. “You should take us to Red Haven, and we will capitalize upon the time exchange rate and have vigorous sexual intercourse to celebrate our victory over the enemy.”

  “Celebrate our victory over the enemy?” Nina laughed. “What are you, Conan the Librarian?”

  “Shut it, Muppet,” Remi growled. “You’re not helping matters. Do you want to fuck or what?”

  “You know I’m down,” Nina said.

  “Well then, help me get that key!” Remi said, and lunged at Brawley.