Read Online Strange Magic: A Yancy Lazarus Novel by James Hunter - Free Book Online Page B

finagle a way out of this shit-storm.
    I slumped forward in my chair, letting my eyes drift close, feigning unconsciousness, as two of the gunmen approached with zip-tie hand restraints. They’d probably shot me full of enough tranquilizers to subdue a small elephant. They should’ve used more. The Vis grants me a far greater resilience to debilitating and intoxicating substances—unfortunately, including alcohol—so it takes a whole lot more to put me down. These tranqs would undoubtedly affect my system in a big way, but instead of knocking me out cold in thirty seconds it might take as long as ten minutes. Ten minutes to get the hell away and find a place to pass out safely.
    Sounded like a frat rush challenge.
    Though I might have been able to handle Morse and his boys outright, it would’ve been a risky endeavor: close quarters, surrounded and outgunned, and they’d shot me with friggin’ tranquilizers for Pete’s sake. Heck, even if I took out Morse and his boys, I couldn’t possibly leave through the front—must’ve been thirty bikers in the main bar and most of them would be packing. I know bad odds when I see them and I wasn’t feeling real lucky at the moment.
    I wasn’t completely up a creek, however. I still had the concussive wave of force which I’d channeled and constructed while Morse and I had played our last hand. Could only use that once though, so I had to make it count. With the front door out, I’d have to go out the back—even if it meant I had to make a back door. I pumped more energy into the construct, supercharging the working until all that accumulated energy made my head want to explode like an over-pressured boiler. More and more until I couldn’t hold the power in anymore.
    A barrage of raw force jolted out as the first gunmen placed his hands on me.
    The construct rolled out of me with an accompanying flash of angry green light. Chairs flew end over end and guards tumbled through the air like scattered bowling pins. They’d be okay in a few minutes. The far wall—connecting to the parking lot—couldn’t say the same thing.
    Pieces of brick, concrete, and cheap red wood paneling flew outward in a confetti blast of rubble. The resultant sound wave was like the blast of a small-scale building detonation. What was left of the thick concrete looked like someone had taken an industrial wrecking ball to it. Precisely what my construct had been: a giant wrecking ball of channeled Vis.
    I jerked the darts from my neck, stumbled to my feet, and shambled through the opening I’d punched into the rear of building, crouching down to hide my head and neck from any possible suppressive gunfire.
    The sound of smashing wood followed me through the new emergency exit—the regulars in the main bar must’ve broken through the reinforced door to the back. Gunshots erupted from behind me, the roar of muzzle blasts shockingly loud in the night, while the whine of incoming bullets sent a wave of goose flesh running up and over my spine. I felt an impact under my right shoulder blade—my coat prevented the bullet from penetrating, but the impact hurt like a bitch and threw me off balance.
    I managed to keep upright and moving in something that vaguely resembled a run. After about fifty feet, however, I found myself settling into a shuffling gait as my legs started to go numb.
    I tried to draw up a reflective shield, but I might as well have been trying to fly away for all the good it did. I was already losing touch with my well of power—I tried to reach out and embrace the Vis. It was like a thick layer of molasses sat between me and my life sustaining force. I didn’t have long then, and I didn’t have access to much by way of defensive or offensive constructs. What I needed was a place to hide.
    Once I broke clear of the infernal open parking lot, I hobbled into a narrow alleyway nestled between two large, run-down brick buildings—abandoned office spaces.
    Everything felt so heavy, my