Creation Mage 6 by Dante King (detective books to read txt) 📕

bore back toward the stone wall of a building behind us. My assailant had his shoulder in my chest, his arms locked around my waist.

“You fucker!” he grunted in a cracked and broken voice as he drove me backward.

He was a short guy with a mop of tangled golden hair and spare tire around his gut. I guessed he was of the dwarf persuasion, though it was impossible to tell with him grabbing me like he was. He had a bit of weight behind him so, instead of trying to tussle it out with him like a couple of bar-room lemons, I grabbed his belt and back-pedaled with him.

My intent was to plow his head into the stonework behind me, but he pivoted and changed his direction at the last minute. I stepped to the side, and he crashed ribs-first into the rough stone, making a noise like a broken accordion.

Before he could recover, I summoned my black crystal staff to my hand, pressed it to his sternum, and hit him with a Paralyzing Zap.

I might, in retrospect, have overdone the spell a little, but it was hard to be sorry about that.

The dwarf went rigid as the Storm Magic filled him. He was blasted backward through the stone and into the brothel on the other side of it in a shower of dust and falling mortar.

I turned, intending to help Leah with the remaining pair of muggers. To my astonishment, Leah had what looked like a glowing silver dart of some kind embedded in her shoulder. Blood had spread in a small patch from the wound, soaking the light blue wool of her sweater.

One of the two remaining assailants was running down the alleyway toward her, while the other was peppering Leah with more of the little silver spell darts. I conjured up a Flame Barrier to protect Leah from the spell darts, which thudded into its incandescent surface and sizzled into greasy, gray arcane mist. Then I used my Telekinesis spell to dislodge a rickety red brick chimney and send it crashing down on top of him, effectively negating his ability to cause further trouble by breaking every bone in his body.

My attention flicked back to Leah just in time to see the perforated Chaos Mage dodge a big clobbering haymaker from the mugger who had closed with her. The mugger also held an effective-looking knuckleduster in his closed fist, giving his punch a little more weight. It might have stoved Leah’s head in had she been looking the other way. And drunk.

As it was, she had her face turned in the correct direction and was, as far as I was aware, as sober as a judge. She blocked the punch with an elbow, and then hammered the mugger twice in the armpit. He yelped like she’d stuck him with something sharp. As he staggered back, Leah raised her knee and stomped her foot into the side of the mugger’s kneecap. There was a juicy crunching pop, and her enemy went over like a tree, squealing.

Raising her hands, Leah hit her enemy with a scintillating blast of pearlescent pink Chaos Magic. It sent the mugger tumbling and skidding across the rough ground of the alley before slamming him into a far wall and sticking him there in a lollipop pink pat of…

“Bubblegum?” I asked, puffing out a breath and dusting off my hands. Nearby, the sylph owner of the brothel that I had just accidentally caved in was kicking at the prostrate figure of the dwarf and swearing at him in a continuous stream.

“Yes, bubblegum,” Leah said. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“How’s your shoulder?” I asked.

Leah frowned at me and looked over her shoulder at where I was pointing.

The silver dart had dissipated back into the ether, but the hole in her sweater and the patch of wet blood remained.

“Dang it,” Leah said. “I’m always letting the odd one sneak through.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Leah grinned at me; that strange half eccentric and half dazed smile. She pressed on the wound, and pink magic enveloped it. When she took her hand away, it was healed, but the skin was scarred where the dart had hit.

“Another scar,” she said. “Another story, eh, honeybunny? Let’s go.”

Chapter 11

Leah and I made it to the bottom of the cliff and scaled the rope ladder leading up to the pipe opening above us.

I had never been great with heights. My fears were soothed since I could easily save myself with magic if I fell. I considered using my Greater Flame Flight spell to carry Leah and me up, but figured I’d conserve my mana, in case I needed it later.

At the top of the ladder a crooked old witch with stereotypical green skin and a warty complexion greeted us.

“Two to the Castle of Ascendancy, basement level, please, you sweet little haggard crone you,” Leah said.

The witch didn’t seem all that offended by Leah’s words, but then Leah had also handed her a fat purse of coins. The witch led us along the disused and dusty sewer tunnel until we came to a phone box-sized booth cut out of the rock. It was a rough contraption made from hammered copper.

“Inside,” the witch croaked at us from under the brim of a shady hat.

We did as we were bid. Things were very tight. Leah was pressed up close to me, her ass squashed firmly against my groin.

“How long will this take?” I asked.

Leah wriggled her ass back into me, rubbing up against my other magic staff and said, “Not long enough for what you have in mind.”

The witch rolled her eyes at us. “When was the last time you nauseating lovebirds ate?”

I frowned. “I don’t know. An hour ago, maybe.”

The old crone harrumphed bitterly. “Well, just damn