The Watchmage of Old New York (The Watchmage Chronicles Book 1) (19 page)

“Throw some punches or something,” Smokestack said.  “Or grab ‘em.  The crowd’s getting restless. C’mon and toe the line.  It’s time.”

Hendricks tried to do what Smokestack said.  He lunged at Hyer with both hands, but the former champion slipped each grapple and punished Hendricks with shots to his exposed ribs.  By round thirty-four, Hendricks was gasping in our corner and tears mixed with his blood.”

“Three more rounds.  You’re almost there,” I whispered.

“No,” he said with a determined chin.  “I’m going to knock him out.”

I could almost feel the rage radiating from his body.  “Don’t do this, think about the money.”

“I don’t care about money.”

“Smokestack’ll have us killed.  They’ll find us floating in the East River.”

“I don’t care.”  He whispered something in a strange language.  “I’m going to knock him out.” He stepped out and toed the scratch line.

Hendricks came out in a flurry for the thirty-fifth round.  He hit the surprised Hyer at least a dozen times before Hyer fell to the wood floor.  The spectators cheered as the former champion crawled back to his corner.  Hendricks raised one fist and pointed at the crowd.  They ate it like a dish of oysters and lime.

He came back to the corner and leveled a hard look at me.  “I’m tired of people telling me what to do.  You order me around.  Smokestack orders me around.  Master Nath…I don’t mind that so much.  You keep telling me that I’m a boy.  Today I’ll be a man.”

He trotted out to the line, and despite dripping blood from his head to his shoes, he smiled. Hyer, on the other hand, looked angry enough to spit

The bell for round thirty-six rang and they both started swinging.  Hendricks landed three blows for every one of Hyer’s, but Hyer’s strength and precision did as much damage.  Blood sprayed both men.  Hyer backed Hendricks against the ropes, but Hendricks slipped away and pinned Hyer against them.  Neither bothered to grapple.  They hammered each other until Hyer pushed Hendricks away.  Hendricks tripped over his feet and stumbled to the ground.

Hendricks came back to the corner still smiling, but breathing hard.

I slapped him on the face.  “Stop this madness!  You proved your point.”

“Madness?  Putting on a cowboy disguise and fake accent is madness.  Forcing me to fight and get beaten half to death is madness.  Thinking that you could solve Molly’s murder is madness.  This is the one sane thing I’ve done since following you.”

Hendricks stepped out to the center line.  He whispered some words in a foreign language, and made a gesture with his hands.  The crowd cheered, knowing what that meant.  He might as well have dragged a finger across his neck.

Smokestack gave me a hard look as he rang the bell.

I cupped my hands around my mouth.  “What’s gonna happen to Leenie?” I shouted.

Hendricks hesitated for a moment, and a moment was all that Hyer needed.  He lunged forward and stunned Hendricks with a perfect haymaker to the jaw.  Hendricks staggered.  Hyer threw a left hook, followed by a right uppercut to the liver and one to the chin.  Hendricks spilled onto the floor like an overturned bowl of oatmeal.

I tried to drag Hendricks to the corner, but he was dead weight.  I threw his handkerchief into the ring.  Hyer raised his hands in triumph.

The initial cheers of the crowd soon turned sour. “Hey, he told ‘em something!” Shouted one of Grizzlemaw’s b’hoys. “It’s a cross!” someone yelled, and the word ran over the benches like oil and fire.

Smokestack talked through it like there was nothing wrong, but the crowd’s cups of beer flew at us.  Then the whiskey.  Then the benches, as Grizzlemaw ripped his bench from its nailed position and hurled it, striking Smokestack in the shoulder and head, knocking him down.

Shadow McGuirk rose to his feet and in one smooth motion, drew his fancy pistol and shot Grizzlemaw in the head.  The back of Grizzlemaw’s head burst open like a dropped melon.

Then it reformed.

On the other side of the arena, the pistol shot broke the momentary truce between the rival and drunken gangs.  Daybreak Boys attacked Dead Rabbits.  Dead Rabbits attacked Bowery Boys.  Bowery Boys swung blindly, hitting anyone they could find.  Yankees attacked Knickerbockers, and everyone attacked the Irish. They became more blur than bodies, and I lost track of who was stabbing who.

Meanwhile, Grizzlemaw let out an ursine roar with his newly formed head.  His whole body shimmered like a reflection on the water.  His head changed shape.  His body widened and thickened until he was huge and hairy.  It was like something out of a nightmare, a true monster, half man and half bear, with claws the size of pull plows.

His b’hoys transformed as well.  One turned into a weasel creature, another a boar.  A hideous man-spider leapt forward, black, hairy arms poked out of his shirt and vicious pincers replaced his mouth.  A white rabbit creature searched for a place to hide.  There were over a dozen in all, and they looked ready to kill.

I knew what a Pooka was.  Several lived on Pop’s property and they often let their disguises down.  None of those had ever scared me before.

Smokestack staggered to his feet while clutching his shoulder, unfazed by the magic.  “Please, calm yourselves!  There’s no fix.  It was an honest fight!”

A series of shots rang out.  I moved to Smokestack’s side.  “It’s too late for that.  We gotta get outta here.”

He looked at me, eyes glazed over, stunned by the throng of fantasy creatures around him.  “Where’s your accent?”

“It’s in the back.  Is there some way out?”

He nodded.  “My shoulder’s broke.”

“Not what I asked, but my condolences.”

I saw Grizzlemaw charge at Shadow, who backed away and fired his barker again.  The bullets burst through Grizzlemaw’s hide, but the wounds healed instantly.  A bullet struck one of the Daybreak Boys in the side and he crumpled like paper. Grizzlemaw swiped with one mighty paw.  Shadow dodged with unexpected dexterity and leapt into the ring, taking a protective stance in front of Smokestack.

Leenie emerged from the chaos and tumbled into Hendricks. In her hand was a broken bottle, slick with blood. She shouted a few very unladylike words. I was impressed.

I looked at Hendricks.  “For God’s sake, wizard something!”

Hendricks, Smokestack, and Leenie all looked at me.  Hendricks answered.  “I can’t.  There’re too many people. The Warp could destroy the whole ward. Master Nathaniel wou—”

“Look around you, dammit!  There’s a man-bear killing everything in sight.  If they don’t believe in magic yet, nothing you do is going to change that.”

And like I summoned the Devil himself, the whole damn thing went to Hell.

A purple mist rose from around a trio of Daybreak Boys. Their bodies shook apart as the mist overtook them. Even through the roars and gunfire, I heard their screams. An Upperten melted into the wooden floor until only his head and hat remained. A sailor from the Orient cried as the skin shimmered and slipped away from his arms, revealing bloody muscle and pale bone. Then the rest of him vanished. A row of seats flew into the air and crashed against a wall. A b’hoy with soaped up locks fell stone dead.

Shadow pointed his gun at a cat creature.  “It’s too late. Do it now,” he rasped with a voice like broken glass. It was the first time that I heard Shadow speak.  The sound hurt my ears.

Shadow whispered some words and pulled his trigger. A glowing bullet the size of a small cannon ball fired from the gun, blowing the man-cat apart, destroying the benches and back wall.  The gory pieces of Pooka faded from sight.

“Damnation,” I muttered. The man-spider had crawled into the rafters, and he dropped down into the ring.  His many eyes were focused on me.

Hendricks yelled a warning and thrust out his hands. Spouts of flame erupted from his fingers, overwhelming the man-spider.  He screamed with all six arms thrashing, and then fell to the ground and set the ring ropes aflame.  He faded away, but the smell of burnt insect hair remained.

The flames spread and threatened to engulf us.  Shadow snarled as his coat caught fire.  Even his neckerchief smoldered.  He ripped them both off and cursed. God’s bloody wounds!  Shadow’s’s neck was covered in the most hideous scars that I had ever seen.  They were like the ones on his wrist, but even more terrifying, like his skin was melted down and reshaped by a crazed blind man.  I looked away and pictured something beautiful for balance.

“We have to get out of here,” I said again.  There was no way that the situation could sink any further into madness. The purple mist spread, lighting fires where it touched. Half of a Troll appeared from the mist, one bulging eye open.

Someone cried havoc and a side door flew inward.  A nine-foot tall, monstrous Ogre charged in, taking part of the door’s frame with him.  He could’ve been Arrock’s bigger, nastier older brother.   In each hand was a club, and he smashed a swath through the crowd, killing gang members, honest spectators, and Grizzlemaw’s b’hoys.  He left a writhing path of shattered body parts in his wake.

Behind the Ogre stepped two Goblins in leather aprons.  They carried blunderbusses attached to leather pouches on their backs.  Another Ogre came through, followed by another and a Troll that jumped up to the rafters and unstrapped the rifle on his shoulder.

With a mighty screech, a bald eagle flew into the room.  He took roost next to the Troll and transformed.  The creature was covered in splendid white and brown plumage, with a hooked beak and eagle’s head.  In one hand was a saber, and draped across his back was the American flag.

“Artillery, fire!” the man-eagle cried.  The Goblins pulled triggers and sprayed the room with glowing bullets.  Hendricks waved his hands and the bullets coming our way swerved and hit the back wall.  Several of Grizzlemaw’s b’hoys went down and some faded away.

Grizzlemaw took three bullets to the chest, but he shrugged them off like bee stings.  He turned his attention away from us and toward the Goblins.

“Cadatchen, you bastard!  Where are you?” Grizzlemaw lumbered forward, shrugging off another shot from the Troll rifleman.

“Infantry, advance!” shouted the man-eagle.  The three Ogres stepped forward and raised their weapons.

In his rage, the massive Grizzlemaw could handle an Ogre, but his b’hoys weren’t as lucky.  The Ogres beat his b’hoys back, while Grizzlemaw grappled with one Ogre and threw it to the ground.

Meanwhile, we used the smoke and fire as cover to hide behind the ring.  Smokestack passed out from his injuries.  Hendricks worked a spell to keep the smoke out of our lungs.

“So you’re a wizard too?” I asked Shadow, leaning in close to hear his answer.  There was none. Drops of Shadow’s blood landed on my coat.

“Wizards?” Leenie ducked a piece of flying wood. “Yer all daft.”

The man-eagle let out a loud screech and waved his flag in the air.  “Cavalry, charge!”

Leenie looked at the battle. “An’ I am too.”

“Cavalry?” Hendricks said.  “This can’t be good.”

It wasn’t.  From the barroom came the squeal of pigs.  Four Redcaps armed with lances charged into the fray.  They rode pigs covered in spiked barding.  The hog cavalry closed the trap on Grizzlemaw’s b’hoys, and the slaughter was on.

A thick, white fog fell upon the room, billowing in from every window, door, and sundered wall. It quenched the fires around us and blended with the purple mist.  Even I, an utter failure with magic, felt the tingle of power as it surrounded us.

That’s when Pop walked in through the broken wall.

“You are all under arrest,” he said with trembling fury in his voice.  He raised his cane and a blue beam of light struck a weasel Pooka, freezing it in a block of ice. He moved the cane and the beam caught the entire Redcap cavalry, doing the same to them.

Grizzlemaw roared and slapped the Ogre in front of him out of the way.  He lumbered for the exit, but his Ogre grabbed him from behind and wrapped a thick arm around his head.  Pop fired a beam of gray light their way, wrapping them together in smoking bands of iron.

Shadow ducked down lower. “Damned Watchmage,” he creaked. One of his rings glowed, and his shape wavered.  He shrunk and turned black and scaly. In moments, I was looking at a long, black, pit viper.  The snake raised his head and nodded, and then slithered away.

“Hendricks, did you see that?”  I turned to him, but he was staring slack-jawed at Pop.

“Retreat!” Cried the man-eagle, and he transformed back into a bird and took wing. Pop raised his staff.  A black cloud covered the eagle.  It condensed into chains and the eagle crashed into a wall.

Pop rose into the air. His hair looked whiter somehow, like he had aged fifteen years since entering the saloon. The Troll rifleman fired at him, but the bullet halted midway, turned around, and blew through the Troll’s heart.  The creature faded before it hit the planks.

“Ah, there you are,” I heard him say as he looked into a corner.  He pointed and the rabbit Pooka that I saw before floated toward him, arms and legs flailing to no avail.

“It’s time to go,” I said to Hendricks.  I pointed to the hole that Pop made. “Grab Smokestack.”  Hendricks nodded, and we dragged Smokestack through the hole and into the November night. Leenie followed close behind, still clutching her broken bottle.