Pursuit: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Lillim Callina Chronicles Book 4) Read online

  “Um… hi?” I said, as it bounded up to me and seized my pant leg.

  “Where do you want to go?” it asked in a voice that reminded me of cartoon mice.

  “To Antigua,” I said with a sigh.

  “Okay,” it replied and scampered away, leaping up the tree and disappearing from my sight into the effervescent branches.

  “Well, that was helpful,” I murmured. Then an acorn struck me in the side of the head.

  “Hey!” I yelped, bending to pick up the nut. It glowed with eerie green light and the word “eat” was scratched onto it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said, but neither the tree nor the chipmunk responded.

  I sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching me and popped the acorn into my mouth. The taste of acrid smoke filled my mouth, and I shut my eyes, swallowing as hard as I could.

  When I opened my eyes, I was standing on a beach. The waves lapping at the sand so gently that it made me want to jump in. These waves were nothing like the ones back home in Huntington Beach.

  I wiped my brow with the back of my hand as the sun bore down on me. The air clung to me like a wet sweater.

  “So this is Antigua?” I mused as I made my way from the beach and moved through the bustling streets. Evidently, fall was the busy time here. All around me, maniacs in cars older than my seventeen years darted through the too narrow streets. Everywhere I turned, people gave me one of two looks. The please don’t come talk to me look or the please come buy something from me look. There really wasn’t a third look. It made me feel sort of unwanted.

  Still, it was tropical, and I had nearly an hour to myself. After that, Masataka’s goons would use the full power of Lot’s surveillance equipment to track me down and pinpoint my exact location.

  I harrumphed and hugged myself despite the heat as a chill sauntered down my back. I stepped up to one of the local shops and glanced up at a sign that said Nelson’s Boatyard. Inside, there was nothing but swimwear and souvenir t-shirts.

  “A little girl like you shouldn’t be walking around in bloody clothing,” an older female voice said from behind me. I spun, my heart leaping into my throat, to see an elderly lady with skin the color of melted chocolate. “I can make you a fine deal on some new clothes,” she added, grinning at me.

  Well, that’s a good idea, I thought, unconsciously picking at my bloody sweatshirt.

  A few minutes later, I settled for a blue ‘I heart Antigua’ T-shirt that was authentically made in China because it had a jolly roger instead of a heart and a pair of pink board shorts with white stripes down the sides. Why? Because sauntering about in bloody clothing didn’t seem fun, and the only thing the shop sold was swimwear. I was just thankful that the lady had girl shorts in addition to bikini bottoms. I was about done fighting monsters in my underwear, water-resistant or not.

  Now, as I stood between two giant pillars that had once been the site of an immense boat cleaning industry during the whaling years, I realized I had no idea who I was looking for. The “person” Gib mentioned could just as easily be a three-inch tall blue elf with a coloring book.

  Then again, Gib had said the man had been a Dioscuri. Great. I was trying to find someone I’d never seen on an island full of people I’d never seen before. No problem.

  “And do you know why it took several months to clean and repair a boat?” asked a tall, thin black man as he sauntered up to me, a bottle poking up from the paper bag in his hand. “Because they were all drunk.”

  “Is that so?” I asked, glancing at him and sighing. He was wearing a loose-fitting red Hawaiian shirt with a nametag that said Joe pinned to it.

  “It is so! What they’d do is get people drunk and ship ‘em over here.” He pointed at two huge stone doors that must have been twenty feet tall as he pulled up his baggy canvas pants with his other hand. “Then they’d shut those doors. Once you were inside, you were screwed.”

  “Well that doesn’t explain why they remained drunk,” I said, glancing past Joe and toward what looked like a bakery. Even from here, the smell of fresh baked bread had my stomach rumbling. “What kind of treats do you guys have here?”

  “They were drunk because they got paid in rum!” Joe exclaimed before he took a slug from the bottle hidden in his bag. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned at me. “And we have lots of local treats… if you like bananas and coconut.”

  I sighed. “I’m allergic to both coconut and bananas,” I replied crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Too bad. That bakery makes the best… erm… I’m not sure what they’re called actually. I usually just point at the glass.”

  “Cool,” I said, making a move to walk past him toward the bakery. This was an island, islands had pineapple. They had to have something with pineapple, right? “Though I’d expect a tour guide to know things like that.”

  He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. His face had lost its gentle, fun drunk look. Now he was staring at me, head tilted slightly to the side. He reached up and stroked his stubble-covered chin with one boney hand. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I said with a shrug. “I’m not with a tour group or anything. I was just wandering around.”

  The man grimaced, his yellow huge teeth glinting in the warm light. He reached up and ran his hand over his shaved head. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked, eyes sparkling with intelligence.

  “Uh… yeah?” I said, suddenly worried because I’d stashed all my weapons in my spirit pouch, my very own portable interdimensional locker. I mean, I could probably take some drunk on the street but still… this guy was starting to give me the creeps.

  He leaned down close to me, folding his body in on itself like a praying mantis. He sniffed, his nostrils flaring huge and wide.

  “Are you seriously smelling me? Did that really just happen?” I asked as I backpedaled, my hands curling into fists.

  “You smell like Lot. I don’t know when you were last there, Dioscuri, but that smell of dead air hangs around you for months after you leave.” Joe straightened, dropping his bottle to the ground. The sound of breaking glass split the air and several people turned to look at us. “I’m not going back with you. So, unless you want me to ship you back there in a very tiny box, I suggest you get the hell off my island and don’t come back.”

  My heart hopped into my throat as he narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re him…” I murmured, my eyes going a little wide.

  “Yeah, I am.” Joe said with a shrug. “I’m Kain. You found me, want a gold star?”

  “Like from the bible?” I swallowed. “Where’s your mark?”

  “Yeah because that joke didn’t get old the first five thousand times I heard it.”

  “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s start over,” I added, holding out my hand. “I’m Lillim Callina. Gib told me you were here. I’m not trying to take you anywhere. I just want to talk with you.”

  He glanced at my hand like it was a snake. Then very slowly he reached out and engulfed my hand in his. His grip was firm, but not firm enough to cause pain. He shook my hand once before releasing me and wiping his hand on his pants. “Pleased to meet you Lillim Callina. I’m Jeremiah Kain, former Hyas Tyee of the Dioscuri.”

  Chapter 4

  We were sitting at a restaurant that was, basically, a bunch of wooden picnic tables under a straw-thatched roof. It overlooked a cliff that fell a few hundred feet to the rocky surf below. The jungle loomed around us like a living thing, patiently waiting for its chance to take back the tiny patch of civilized earth we occupied.

  Kain had insisted we come here because Shirley Heights was “the place to be” in Antigua. This was fine because it was pretty scenic, but it’d eaten up a lot of time I didn’t have. Spending thirty-plus minutes on a bus when you only have an hour to spare isn’t exactly my idea of fun.

  I’d tried to talk to him while he’d navigated the crowded, winding streets in an old white pic
kup, but every single time he’d shushed me or turned up his music, and I was left to stew in silence while Kain belted out old show tunes in an off-key tenor.

  Still, I was here now, the marmot was still scurrying around on my arm like an animated tattoo, and the place was pretty. Getting upset was not going to give me back time.

  “So… why would someone be looking for you? Dioscuri hole up on Earth all the time,” I asked as I tipped my root beer to my lips and took a swallow. I winced. I didn’t normally drink fizzy drinks, and the carbonation bit into my throat like an angry dog.

  “Um… because I betrayed the Dioscuri during the war with Manaka?” Kain replied sullenly and drained half his glass in one shot. “You might be too young to remember the actual events, but they should have told you who I was. Don’t they teach you people history anymore?” He leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs and throwing his feet up on the table like a god-damned savage.

  “Did you seriously put your feet on the table? We’re in public, and besides, that’s super rude,” I said incredulously as I glanced around to make sure no one was watching us. Even still, I felt heat spread across my cheeks.

  Kain gestured at the empty patio where we sat. “I don’t think anyone minds. Besides, I’m comfortable. And you didn’t answer my question. You just got all indignant.”

  I huffed at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Please take your gross feet off the table.”

  “Fine,” he said with a shrug and swung his feet back off the table. “Better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” he added with a grin. Then he downed the rest of his drink and slammed the mug on the table so hard that the heavy glass left an indent in the wood. “Barkeep, keep ‘em coming. The girly is paying.”

  The bartender, a short black woman who must have weighed six-hundred pounds, glanced out the service window and smiled at us. “What’d you do, Miss? Lose a bet? Ole Joe there can drink all night long and still be twice as sharp as a needle.”

  “I have a company credit card,” I replied with a shrug.

  “Make it two pitchers then,” Kain said with a smirk, and the woman cackled.

  She appeared with the two pitchers so fast, it was like she already had them both ready. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. As she set them both down between us, I took another sip of my root beer. Yep, definitely over-carbonated.

  “Are you always like this?” I asked as Kain grabbed the first pitcher and put it to his mouth, not even bothering to use a glass.

  “Yes,” he replied through a mouthful of amber beer. “So what’d you want to talk to me about?”

  “How are you able to hide from the Dioscuri?” I asked, glancing at my wrist where the marmot was busy burying its head in the sand. Where it had gotten sand, I had no idea. “I need to do the same trick.”

  “Yeah… well, can’t help you with that, sister,” Kain said as the last of the pitcher’s contents disappeared down his gullet. It was like watching a vacuum cleaner drink.

  “And why is that?” I asked, barely resisting the urge to smash the now empty pitcher over his stupid face.

  “Because you aren’t a Dragon Knight. You don’t have a dragon to hide you from the Dioscuri’s prying eyes. I don’t recommend you go trying to become one either. For one, dragons are needy. They are like one of those sick kids who rings a bell every time they want something, only they never stop wanting things. For two, the ‘current’ knight is Warthor Ein. I dunno if you’ve heard of him since you seem a little dull, but he’s pretty much unstoppable. You don’t want him coming after you for assuming the mantle of a dragon.” Kain grinned at me and picked up the second pitcher. He made a cheers gesture at me and took a huge swallow. “Talking makes me thirsty.”

  “There can only be one Dragon Knight. How can you be a Dragon Knight?” I asked.

  “There can only be one,” he said making air quotes and some of his beer sloshed out of the pitcher and splattered on the table. He looked down at it sadly before continuing. “There can only be one dragon on Earth. Mine’s back in the Nether. Him and Trius reached an agreement. I’d like to think he left because he didn’t want Ein to slit my throat.” Kain shrugged and took another gulp from the side of the pitcher. “Ein only became a Dragon Knight to stop me from being one. With my dragon hidden away in the Nether, I’ve basically lost all my swanky dragon powers. Hence, he was okay with not killing me.”

  “Seems like a whole lot of work for Warthor,” I said, staring down into my root beer. It bubbled like a witch’s cauldron. Should have gone for the pineapple juice.

  Kain waved of his free hand. “Nah… right now, I’m a card in his hand no one knows about, well, besides you and a werewolf who needs to keep his damn mouth shut. Someday, Warthor’ll call me, and I’ll have to either give up my life here in paradise…” he gestured around the restaurant, “or give up my life.”

  “Which is classic Warthor Ein,” I said with a sigh. “So your dragon can’t shield me too?”

  “No can do, honey. Your best bet is to head into the Nether and hide there. Sure it’s dangerous, but the Nether screws up the Dioscuri’s super computers pretty good. They’ll have a lot harder time tracking you there. Unless they fixed that bug, I’m not sure. Like I said, I haven’t been around in a while.”

  “Either way, the Nether will only work until something comes and eats me,” I replied.

  “Life is all about the choices we make,” he said and drained the second pitcher. He glanced at me for a second. “You gonna finish that?” he asked, pointing at my nearly untouched soda.

  “No, help yourself,” I said, standing up sighing. Well this was a colossal waste of time. Not only had I spent most of my incognito time with the town drunk when I could have been doing anything else, I’d offered to pay for his stupid drinks when I was low on cash and on the run. I pulled a ten dollar bill from the wad of bills in my pocket and tossed it on the table. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Hey don’t mention it. I’m a helpful guy. But don’t mention it, seriously. I’d hate to see the looks on Dirge’s and Diana’s faces if they found out I was still kicking,” he said, reaching over and grabbing my glass.

  I cocked my head at him. “You’re messing with me, right?”

  His face got a strange look on it. “What do you mean?”

  “Dirge is dead. She died fighting Manaka during the siege a few years ago,” I whispered, shutting my eyes for a second so that the memory wouldn’t take hold. Thanks to the Blue Prince, I relived that one a lot more often than I’d have liked. Why? Because he’d sent me back in time to experience it firsthand.

  “Oh, I didn’t know. I’ve been gone since just before the siege. When I die, I’ll have to buy her a beer in hell.” He shrugged and took a sip of my root beer. His face scrunched up and he stared down into the drink. “Seems over-carbonated, no?”

  “You don’t need to do that either,” I replied, ignoring his comment.

  “Sure I do, she was my friend. If Manaka killed her that makes it partially my fault since… well… I let his army into Lot,” Kain said and downed the root beer in one gulp. He shrugged and stood up, raising his hand to silence me before I could say anything. “Don’t ask me why I helped him. It’s complicated, and I don’t want to go into it.”

  I glanced up at the sky and didn’t know how to respond to that statement. Clearly this guy either didn’t know anything about me or was playing dumb. I wasn’t exactly inclined to tell him I was Dirge Meilan reborn, anyway. That would open the floor to a whole bunch of questions I was not interested in answering.

  Mom had never talked about Kain, either, which was odd if they’d known each other. Then again, Mom never talked about the siege at all. The subject should have been analyzed to death by the Dioscuri, but I barely knew anything about it. What had happened during the siege had definitely not come up in any of my Dioscuri History classes.

  A Molotov cocktail smacked into the table we�
��d been sitting at and exploded in a flash of flame and debris. I threw myself backward, wrapping my magic around me like a shield, but I needn’t have bothered. The fire flared for a nothingth of a second before going out. Like instantly. And I didn’t have anything to do with it.

  Kain stood next to the table, one hand clenched around the handle of my mug. His brown eyes had taken on a strange shade of silver. Had he just turned the fire off? I knew Caleb could do that, but for whatever reason, I was pretty sure Kain didn’t have fire mastery like Caleb did. Hell, no one had fire mastery like Caleb did.

  “I know you’re there,” Kain said. “I can smell the stink of Lot on you. Just come out here already so I can kill you and go back to drinking.” He jerked his thumb at me. “She still owes me one more.”

  I whirled around as over a dozen Royal Guards emerged from their places in the shadows. I glanced down at my wrist. Yup. The marmot was dead. I should have tied a bell to its neck so I’d have known when it stopped moving. How long had it taken them to find me? The thing couldn’t have been dead long. I just saw it moving a few minutes ago.

  “It’s okay, Joe. These guys are here for me,” I said, purposely using his fake name as I reached down for Shirajirashii. My eyes went wide and my heart hammered in my chest because my swords weren’t there. They were still tucked into my Spirit Pouch. How could I have been so careless? I’d never get them out in time to take on all these guys. I curled my hands into fists and moved so that I was facing them. “I don’t want them to hurt you.”

  They hadn’t bothered to spread out and surround us. They were all standing together in a group. And why had they used a Molotov Cocktail… that didn’t make sense. Unless? Had the bartender thrown it? Was this a thing she had worked out with Kain beforehand? Had she been trying to warn us?

  “Tut, tut, Princess,” Kain said with a shrug. “What kinda guy would I be if I let fifteen guys take on a tiny girl by herself?” He waved the empty pitcher dismissively. “Whatever type of guy that is, I’m not him.”