The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (2 page)

He shook his head, then raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He threw the balled-up lid to one side.

Well, that was humiliating
, I thought.
And possibly deadly
. As I deduced when I entered the alley, there were few useful weapons. Clothing lines and telephone wires hung high above us, but such flimsy things wouldn’t bind an immortal. The bricks in the walls were too processed and refined for me to access much of their earth magic. Still, there might be a bit I could use to heal myself. Heart pounding and chest heaving, I pressed my palm against the wall, willing the magic to restore me just a little.

“Not my best move, I admit,” I said. “But not my only one either.”

My reflexes might not be as good as a vampire’s, but years of training with my father had made them damn close. I grabbed a broken bottle at my feet and stabbed the vampire in the eye. He screamed and clutched his face as the bottle fell to the ground and blood poured down his shirt. Groping wildly, he slashed my chest with his razor-sharp nails. I automatically clutched my front, which turned out to be a mistake. The pressure of my hand and arm against the cuts made them burn like fire. Fortunately, the vampire had been too sloppy to take more than a swipe, so the wounds weren’t overly deep. If only that made them hurt less.

Roaring with agony and rage, the vampire lunged at me, reaching for my throat. A quick elbow in his forearm prevented him from succeeding, but not from punching me in the chest. I gasped and choked for breath, whirling around as the vampire moved in for a second blow. He grabbed me from behind and started choking me, my neck in the crook of his elbow. I ignored the crushing pain in my throat and kept going. I learned long ago that when you are the son of Titus Aurelius, you do not fail. Ever.

Grabbing the arm that was squeezing my throat, I bent at the waist and flipped the vampire onto his back. He jumped up, did a spinning kick, and gave another blow to my chest. Then he lunged for me again, but I gripped his head and flew in the air, feet first. Flipping him over, I smashed his back onto the ground, pulling at his neck as hard as I could.

It wasn’t hard enough. And it didn’t remove the vampire’s head so much as piss him off. I cursed myself for almost killing him—I’d been so focused on winning the fight, I’d forgotten I needed him
alive
. After all, dead vampires aren’t very good at dispensing information. It was the same reason I couldn’t throw random bolts of magic at him, tempting though it was. He leaped up, and I flew in the air again in order to gain a tactical advantage. But the advantage was temporary, and soon we were flying around the alley, pummeling each other in a whirlwind of magic and snarling.

Lord, but I do hate fighting vampires. Most of them are so coarse and brutish, it’s like fighting an animal. At least witches use spells. There’s elegance there, a
refined
violence. Of course, witches have the potential to do damage of a much more tortuous nature.

But back to the fighting—

Even though vampires are technically immortal, there are various ways to fell them, including using fire and beheadings. It was hard to determine which would work best at present, since I was trying to prevent a similar fate from befalling me as well.

And I was growing weary. Flying comes naturally to vampires, so it was much easier for my opponent than for me. Witches must use magical energies for such tasks, since we don’t have wings like fairies. Every bit of magic I performed depleted my stores, and it would be a while until I could build them up again. At the rate I was going, I estimated I’d need at least a few days to get back in fighting form. Assuming I lived that long.

I considered fleeing, at least for the moment, to recover my strength. But if I did, my father would never let me forget it. “Death before dishonor, et cetera, et cetera.” Though I didn’t see how being drained of all my blood in a stinking backstreet was honorable.

Another spinning kick to the shoulder tossed me across the alley again, only this time my magic stopped me just before I hit the wall. I slid down it to stand on the ground, and the vampire and I faced each other, my rival glaring at me with his one good eye. I could hardly bear to look at the other one, though my father would be ashamed of my weak stomach for such things.

“Tell me where Abigail—where my mother is,” I panted, “and I’ll let you go.”

“Let me
go
?” The vampire’s voice was deeper now, angrier. It sounded less human with every word. “You’re the one who’s about to die. And I’ll tell you about your mother when you
replace my fucking eye
!”

I shrugged. “Legend has it the god Odin gave up an eye for wisdom. Maybe you should have tried it before, you brainless twat.”

The vampire let out an animal scream that made the windows vibrate. He came at me in earnest now, fangs bared. Again and again he tried to strike, and I only just managed to block every blow. I had to admit, if it hadn’t been for all those training sessions with my father, I’d definitely be dead by now. I ducked one blow and his fist lodged in the wall. While he was busy extracting it, I moved to the opposite wall and—with a great deal of magical effort—placed an enormous piece of the broken fire escape in front of me. But that wasn’t going to stop him for long.

What the devil am I going to do?
I was a mess of cuts and bruises; muscles I didn’t know I had were throbbing with pain. My chest was heaving, my lungs were burning. It hurt to breathe because of the pain in my throat where the vampire first struck me. Blood strummed in my ears, and just below that I could hear the distant hum of magic.

Come closer, come closer
. I directed my thoughts to the energy, this force that had sustained witches for generations.
Blood of my mother, blood of my father, come to me. I need you now
. I felt it getting stronger, reserves of energy pooling inside me. But my supply wasn’t inexhaustible, and I hadn’t had much when I started. Tracking the vampire had been a long and arduous affair. My body felt so heavy, it was difficult to move.

As I predicted, the vampire took big, heavy footsteps towards the fire escape. His boots crunched on the debris and broken glass of the alley. With one hand, he pulled the huge hunk of metal away with such force that parts of it splintered off. He looked at me with murder in his eyes, grabbed my throat, and lifted me several feet off the ground. I grabbed his forearm and tried not to suffocate. I could feel his fingers tightening around my neck. Reaching down, I bent two of them back until they broke. Then I pulled the fingers off and flung them away.

The vampire dropped me and clutched his hand, screaming longer and louder than before. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a foot-long metal rod—a piece of the broken fire escape. I called the rod into my hand and held it before me like a wrought-iron wand. Maybe there was some metal magic in it I could use to—

Crunch. Again, the sound of the vampire’s boots. I looked up from the rod, but it was too late. The vampire’s one eye was bulging, his nose still a bit crooked from where I punched him. He was breathing heavily through slightly parted lips. I could practically feel the white-hot fury rising off him. His good hand grabbed the hair at the back of my head, exposing nearly all of my throat.

I gripped the metal rod in my left hand and squeezed it hard, summoning all the magic I could. My forearm ached from the force of the summoning. I felt magic burning in the metal, almost enough to scorch my skin. As the vampire leaned his head towards my throat for the second time that night, I raised the rod, praying it was enough to—

A few feet away, an enormous crash made the vampire turn around and let go of my hair, and I dropped the rod in surprise.

Dammit
. I had hoped the other vampire wouldn’t get involved.

Nonetheless, he’d swooped down from the roof and knocked over the trio of garbage cans. Before my adversary had time to react, the second vampire punched him in the stomach and then in the face. Both blows landed much harder than any of mine. The last punch completely shattered his nose. But the second vampire didn’t stop there. He kept hitting the first one over and over, in the face, the stomach, the chest. He struck so sharp and hard, the first vampire could do little more than cover his body with his hands.

The second vampire was tall, with very short, light blond hair and blue eyes. He had long, muscular limbs, and appeared to be in his forties. The merciless look on his face told of a true hardness his tattooed foe could only hope to achieve. Finally, he swiped the first vampire’s leg, and the latter fell back onto a tall pile of reeking garbage. I picked up the rod from where I’d dropped it and ran over to them.

“Excuse me,” I said to the tall vampire, “but just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Father?”

Chapter 2

“Why did you have to interfere?” I demanded. “Victory was a hair’s breadth away!”

My father wrapped his fingers around the vampire’s throat as he tried to get up from the garbage heap. Then he turned to me. “Your own death was a hair’s breadth away, you damnable fool!” he snapped. “I’m the only reason you’re alive right now!” I had the strong feeling
I
was the one he really wanted to be choking.

“I had him right where I wanted him!” I insisted.

“And where would that be exactly? Leaning over your dead body with a mouthful of your blood? Because that’s what was about to happen.”

“I was working on a
spell
.” I motioned to the rod as the vampire choked and tried to pull my father’s hand away.

“In All Fate’s name!” he spat. His deep, booming voice was no match for my softer one, and never failed to make me wince. “At the rate you were going, another Rome could have been built before you finished. Battle tactics should’ve been enough for you to defeat him without resorting to magic.” The vampire continued choking and flailing, his pale face turning red.

Resorting
to magic. My father never had a problem with my using magic before. What he really meant was, he didn’t believe my magic was strong enough to do the job.

“You were favoring your left side—
again
,” he continued. “Your
Tannick maneuver had no follow-through. And what the hell was that with the garbage can lid?”

I rubbed my forehead where the vampire had smashed it against the wall. You might think my father was being a bit hard on the son who practically fought an immortal to the death. And you’d be right. But when you’re the child of a two-thousand-year-old Roman general, it all becomes clear.
Painfully
clear. I rubbed my forehead again. I at least thought my father would be impressed I relieved the vampire of his eye and several fingers. But no; nothing matters except winning. That’s what it means to be Titus Aurelius’s son.

I could never tell if my father considered me a son, a magical tool, or just a nuisance. Had he saved me as a protective gesture? Or was it merely to manipulate my abilities for his own ends at some future date? Not that I needed saving, mind you.

“Let’s just see if our gentleman friend can tell us what we need to know, shall we?” I lowered the rod to my side. “We can discuss fighting strategies another time.” With that, my father released the vampire’s throat from his grasp, but did not back away. The vampire coughed and rubbed his Adam’s apple, around which I could see the bruised indentations of Titus’s thumb and fingers forming on his skin.

“That’s . . . that’s your father?” The vampire coughed again, then snorted, causing blood to gush from his broken nose.” He looked up at us. “That apple fell far, didn’t it?”

“Oh, shut up, you ass,” I snapped.

“Yes, I agree; do shut up,” said Titus, leaning over our prisoner. “You’ll tell us what we need to know . . . whether you want to or not.” The vampire swallowed hard and began to shake as my father peered into his eyes and smiled a little. Our victim knew what was happening. But my father’s smile faded when he realized it wasn’t going to work. He straightened up and glared at the vampire.

“I already tried reading his thoughts,” I said. “You didn’t think that was the first thing I tried?”

Now Titus was glaring at
me
. “Well, it never hurts to make a second attempt,” he said.
By someone who’s better at it
. I didn’t have to read his thoughts to sense that part.

As you probably guessed, most witches can read minds, including my father and me. Actually, so can many vampires; you’ll have to be careful of that if you ever encounter us. But perhaps you’re one of those fortunate few whose minds are mysteriously impenetrable. Or perhaps you’re a magical creature, such as a vampire, who can put a block on their mind to prevent such things. Like the one in front of us now. Many of them are also telekinetic—like witches—and can move things with their minds. Fortunately, my opponent had relied too much on his brute strength when fighting. As I said, some vampires are utterly without class.

But neither that—nor the blocks on my father’s mind and my own—did me any good. Although my block prevented the vampire from anticipating my moves, he still kicked my ass. And
his
block was preventing Titus and me from getting the information we desperately needed. I was growing impatient, struggling like this. Impatient . . . and angry.