Magic - Chapter 50

This is the second book in The Godsverse Chronicles, a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

Ollie wasn't looking for trouble, but after she saved the Antichrist from being slaughtered, it came for her.

Ollie lived by one rule. Never get involved with anyone for any reason; humans, demons, fae folk, it didn't matter. They were all trouble. Keeping her distance was how she survived in the criminal underworld for so long.

Keep your head down and don't piss anyone off. That was her motto, especially since her clients all had access to powerful dark magic.

She thought she had a flawless system for keeping her nose clean, so how did she wind up in a stolen car, with a demon spawn in her back seat, driving away from her ex-lover and a gang of demons ready to skin her alive?

That's a good question.

And why did she agree to help save the demon's life so she didn't get sacrificed to open the gates of Hell?

An even better question.

She had one rule. One stupid rule. And tonight...it goes right down the toilet.

Now, the only way for Ollie to get her life back is to save the girl, prevent the Apocalypse, and track down the people who betrayed her.

They will pay. Oh yes, they will all pay.

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“Are you sure about this?” Blezor asked after I filled him in on everything the imp told me.

“I’m not sure about any of this, but if you want to get some rest, then the best way is to make sure that the demon trying to kill you is dead, or at least sufficiently spooked, so they know we mean business.”

“I suppose that makes some bit of sense,” he said. “Though I’m not sure any of this makes any sense. I mean, she just tried to kill me. I don’t know how I feel about asking for her help.”

“That’s the most sensible thing I’ve ever heard you say. Unfortunately, unless you know any other people who can burn the fabric between Earth and Hell with Hellfire, our options are pretty limited.”

“I’m at a loss,” he said. “I won’t stop you from going—”

“Yeah, you can’t—"

“But I can’t go with you, either.”

“Fair enough. Stay here and drink yourself into a stupor, then.”

“I will!”

There was only one person who I knew had hired the Firestarter before, and I’d sworn the next time I saw that smarmy rat, I’d kill him. These extreme circumstances called for extreme measures and extreme flexibility to my usually rigid moral code.

I portaled to Ratinger Drug in Seattle and made my way inside. The pharmacist rolled her eyes and let me inside the hidden door behind the register. Gone were the half dozen monster guards protecting Dexter on our last visit, replaced by remote surveillance machine guns that followed my movements down the ramp toward his office.

“I thought we had an agreement,” Dexter said when we finally reached the bottom of the ramp. “You should know that these guns are filled with black metal and obsidian-tipped bullets. They will rip you apart with extreme prejudice. Thanks for that idea, by the way.”

“I’m not here to fight you, Dexter.”

“Oh, thank god,” the Rat King said, letting out a breath. “I was totally kidding about those bullets. They are crazy expensive. If you’re not here for revenge, then what can I do for you?”

“I need you to get in touch with the Firestarter for me.”

“I’m not going to set up one of my best contractors for you to kill.”

“I’m not going to kill her. I need her help.”

“You are full of surprises today.” Dexter thought for a moment. “Very well, I will set up a meeting. But if you kill her, then—”

“You could just trust me, Dexter. I’m not the one who betrayed you, remember?”

“And when has trust ever ended up well for anyone?” The rats that made up Dexter’s eyes narrowed them. “If the Firestarter dies, so do you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The Firestarter would only agree to meet with me under Dexter’s protection, so we chose a location that both of us knew well: Gino’s in Pine Street Market. Even though it was no longer used by the Elkman as a stronghold for his troops, there were monsters loyal to Dexter throughout the restaurant, from the boxer busboy strapped with a Glock to a pair of tigers dining near the window. As I spied the layout, looking for threats, an iguana hostess led me to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

Five minutes after I sat down, the Firestarter did as well, dressed in a hoodie and sliding into the chair with her hands deep inside her pockets.

“It’s good to see you,” I said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Skip the pleasantries,” the Firestarter said with a hoarse voice like she hadn’t had any water in days. “I’m only here because Dex asked nicely, and he’s a good client.”

“Fair enough. I’m glad we don’t have to pretend to like each other.”

“I don’t like or dislike you. You were just a job to me. When the job ended, I never thought about you. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed. Relieved, maybe.” I didn’t break my eye contact with her. “That must be nice, to have the ability to turn off like that, not think about all the people you hurt.”

“There’s no other way to get through the day. We all have our coping mechanisms. Some of us forget. Some lie to ourselves.” She hit the last line hard like it was meant for me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I studied your file. I watched you work. I know your clients, and yet you look down on what I do and who I am like you aren’t exactly the same.”

“I’m not—I don’t—I don’t hurt people.”

“Not directly, maybe, but the money you give to bad people lets them do bad things.”

I closed my eyes and took a breath. “I’m not here to fight.”

“No, you want me to believe that you need my help. Excuse me for being skeptical, given our past.”

“I’m willing to put all of that behind us if you help me.”

“How magnanimous of you.” She leaned forward. “And what if I don’t want you to forgive and forget. What if I want you to hate me? What then?”

I pulled out a wad of twenty thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and slammed it on the table. “Then I would hope you are as mercenary as you claim and take the money in front of you as a down payment for services rendered.”

“What services will I render?” she asked, casually flipping through the stack of bills as if this wasn’t her first time holding that much cash.

“I need you to burn a gateway to Hell for me, and then come with me so I can get back through to Earth when I’m done.”

“You want me to go to Hell with you?”

“In a very literal way.”

“That’s funny,” she said, even though she didn’t laugh.

“Why?”

“Well, plenty of people have told me to go to Hell in my life, including you, if I remember correctly. Two hundred and fifty thousand—”

“That’s crazy!”

“I wasn’t finished. Two hundred and fifty thousand in advance, another five hundred when we get back.”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But you’re asking for crazy, and I know you wouldn’t be coming to me if you had any other options.”

“You’re not the only Firestarter on the planet. I could find—”

“Good luck.” She kicked out her chair and stood. “I hope you do go to Hell, and I mean that in every conceivable context.”

“Wait!” I said, biting my lip. “I’ll pay it.”

“Good,” she said. “I knew you would. Now, come with me.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To cement our bond in fire.”

Read the next chapter

This is the second book in The Godsverse Chronicles, a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.

Paid subscribers can access the entire archive of this series from the beginning, along with other series and every article I’ve ever written.

If you are not a paid member, you can read everything with a 7-day free trial, or give us a one-time tip.