Chapter 15
The next day we went into town—Lake Placid, that is. I knew very little about it other than it had hosted several Winter Olympics in decades past. That history was very much on display as we walked into town.
There were no cars at the Marshall base, but cars are unnecessary when you can portal anywhere. Vesta brought us out in a back alley behind a little strip of shops that all connected to each other. Once we were on the main street, we could walk everywhere.
Clearly, Lake Placid was the kind of place that thrived in the winter, the streets busy with ski-laden cars and the sidewalks thronged with pedestrians.
There were all kinds of little shops and cafés, and we hit most of them.
Vesta being a werewolf and me being me, we ate our way across town, trying crepe places, coffee shops, a couple of bakeries, and finally a bistro for an actual sandwich and soup.
The place was crowded, but tables for two are easier to come by, so we were seated fairly quickly.
On the opposite side of the dining room, a table of eight was making more noise than every other table put together.
The loudest voice was an aggressive younger man with a beard, a muscular build, and lots of attitude.
He browbeat most of the people at his table as well as the waitstaff.
It was a study in poor self-esteem and narcissism until it boiled over into outright bullying and abuse.
That happened when the loudmouth took umbrage with a family of four seated near him, specifically the father, who was maybe similar in age but vastly different in demeanor.
Calm and confident, he and his wife were working on getting their elementary-aged son and daughter fed when the muscle guy deliberately knocked into his table, spilling a pitcher of water over the mother and daughter.
When the father spoke up, he stepped right into the bully’s trap.
Instantly, the bearded wonder was looming over the dad, although bullyboy was only of average height.
The restaurant staff were all frozen in fear and the other diners were holding up nano recorders to capture the moment.
“I think he’s a famous MMA fighter, Corrigan Fife,” Vesta said. “Skilled fighter, world champion, welterweight. Causes trouble almost everywhere he goes. Huge ego.”
I looked at her with my brows up and she smiled.
“Excuse me,” I said, standing and walking along behind the bully, who had one hand on the family’s table and the other gripping the father’s shoulder tightly. I made sure to bump hard into bully man.
“Hey, asswipe,” he growled at me.
“No, I’ll wipe my own ass, but thanks for the offer,” I threw back over my shoulder.
“Hey!” he yelled. I turned around calmly.
“Do you know who I am, hayseed?” he demanded.
“Corrigan Fife, celebrity asshole. Also, a renowned wiper of other peoples’ asses,” I said.
His face was the red of Valentine roses. “I will beat you to a pulp, you little shitbag. You’re just a little punk. I’m the fucking welterweight world champion.”
“Will you?” I asked, curious. “Beat me? How do you know? I mean, I understand you’re tough… for a human. What if I’m not human?”
He looked at his table, specifically at a woman. She was middle-aged, well-dressed, and studying me with a frown. She shook her head and he turned back to me, triumphant.
“You’re not a werewolf,” he crowed.
I felt a frown form. “Wait, you have a witch on staff to tell you if you’re about to get into it with a were? You profile who you can bully? That’s nuts. Also, you need a better witch.”
He came at me fast, a sadistic grin on his face.
There wasn’t a lot of room to work with between the tables, and I didn’t want to involve any other tables, so I went straight back at him, rushing his attack.
He hadn’t expected that, but he just grinned wider until he started to comprehend how fast I was moving.
The kick was great, smooth, and he didn’t telegraph it at all: a center kick straight at my gut.
Very fast and very hard to avoid. I read it with Intent, accelerated into it so that I met the kick while his leg was still bent, well before it had developed anything near full speed and power.
It hit my abs, which I held as tight as I could.
The result was he pushed himself backward and tripped over the leg of the dad’s chair.
He flailed, catching the backs of two chairs and preventing himself from hitting the floor.
With a savage grin, he started to pull himself back up but met my punch to his gut before he could release his hands.
He grunted and fell straight down on his ass, his expression surprised and then determined and then severely pained.
And surprised again as he wheezed for breath.
“I can hit a lot harder than that, Corrigan,” I told him in a calm voice.
He turned and looked at the woman and the man next to her. The man reached toward his belt. “Nope,” I said. “If you pull that gun, I’m going to implant it in your digestive tract,” I said.
“Craig,” Vesta said, in a lightly warning tone. “You can just take it away from him. No need for surgery, right?”
“I guess,” I said, watching the witch who was casting a spell. It rebounded off my shields and shoved her over backward.
The bodyguard went for the gun anyway. It wasn’t there.
It was in my left hand. A Glock. I took it apart, tossing him the pieces one by one until I had just the barrel.
I moved that to my right hand and closed my fist to hide it from view.
Then I Apported it into the lake behind me, under the ice.
Then I opened my hand like a stage magician. Look! It’s gone!
“Okay. We done here? Lessons learned? Profiling bullying victims, for goddess sake,” I said, shaking my head. Vesta was standing next to me by this point. How she got there, I’m not sure, but I had been focused on the idiot on the floor.
That’s when the cops came in. Three deputies, one holding a taser ready. They looked surprised when they saw Corrigan Fife on the ground holding his stomach. The owner or manager went right over to them but two of them came our way.
“What’s going on?” one deputy asked.
“I want to press charges,” Corrigan said.
“So do I,” the dad said, “Against you… for assault.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. First, I need ID from you,” deputy one said to me. Then he added, “And you, miss.”
I pulled my student ID from my pocket, handing it to him while Vesta’s came from just behind me. He looked at mine first. “College Arcane? You a werewolf, Craig?”
“No, I’m a witch,” I said. He eyed me dubiously, looking at my chest and shoulders, then glanced absently at Vesta’s ID. Then he froze. Blinked. A lot. Looked up at her, then me, then back at the card, his eyes going really, really wide. So wide.
“You’re…”
“His daughter,” she said.
He gulped. Fricking gulped. And turned to the other two. Both noticed his expression, both moved to meet him as he stepped to them. They conferred, quickly, then the other two looked at us, eyes widening like deputy one.
“I want to press…” Corrigan started to repeat himself, but deputy two turned to him.
“Shut. Up.”
“I’ll sue…” Corrigan got out, but deputy two squatted down and leaned in real close and personal in a manner that surprised the shit out of Corrigan. Deputy two whispered a few words and Corrigan’s eyes got real wide.
“So, the whole thing should be available on video,” I said. “Omega, is there anything…” I started to ask, but then Omega’s avatar appeared next to me and ten people jumped, three of them, two women and one man, screaming briefly.
“Yes, I have a montage of footage from all the recordings plus a few from my own small drones. I expect it will help clarify this matter.”
The deputies were speechless. That’s the moment that Agent Jensen walked in.
“Craig Blackmore, why am I always finding you standing over people?”
“Agent Jensen, are you stalking us?”
“Well, I came to talk to you but yet again, every scene of violence I walk into has you at the center of it.”
“Oh, come on. You must see like one to three scenes of violence every day. And I haven’t done anything for days and days,” I said.
One of the deputies was talking to the owner and nodding at Vesta. More wide eyes.
“Who are you, ma’am?” deputy one asked.
“Special Agent Caeco Jensen, FBI, Special Threats Response Team,” she said, flashing her creds. “Not here to step on anyone’s toes, Deputy… Brunner,” she said, reading his nametag.
“No ma’am. If you’re familiar with these… ah, folks… you can step right in,” deputy one said.
The owner was talking to several waitresses, who then started to talk to customers.
“Wow, Craig, making friends all over the place,” Agent Jensen said.
“I, for one, am thinking friendly thoughts toward him,” the dad said, which was almost as brave as standing up to Corrigan in the first place.
I turned to the little boy in the chair at my left side. He looked about eight or nine. “That man right there is as brave as they come,” I told him, pointing at his father. He blinked at me, clutching a ceramic figurine in one small hand.
“Max is nonverbal,” his mother said.
“Oh, well. Words are overrated, Max,” I said to him. Caeco and Vesta snorted at the same time, but I manfully ignored them. “Actions speak louder and your dad stood up to a man who has spent his whole life learning to beat people up. That’s some loud brave stuff right there, Max.”
“You fighted him,” the daughter said. She was like seven or maybe six and cute as hell.
“Oh, well, see, I’m used to fighting. I was born on another planet, Golf Alpha. You know what that is?”
She nodded. “Green-actors.”
“Yes, Greenacres. Exactly. And everything is heavier there and all my friends and enemies there are werewolves, so that’s who I wrestled and sparred with.
Mr. Fife was worried about fighting werewolves, but that’s all I know.
So it wasn’t brave for me to fight him ’cause he’s a punk bully,” I said, turning to stare at Corrigan with my last words.
“Sucker punched me,” Corrigan said, rubbing his stomach. “If you wanna step into a ring, we’ll figure this out as long as your girlfriend’s daddy doesn’t object.”
“Is that a Challenge?” I asked.
“No!” Vesta and Caeco yelled at the same time. “No Challenges, Craig,” Vesta added. “He’s human and he won’t heal like Steve did.”
Steve, an upperclassman at Arcane, hadn’t been hurt at all, so I figured she was playing for effect. Clever girl.
“Too scared, asshat?” Corrigan asked.
“Look, you moron, he was born and raised on a high-gravity world where he fought weekly with high gravity werewolves,” Caeco said to him.
“He helped train Alphas and other MMA fighters from Earth. You’d have been better off fighting a werewolf from here.
There’ll be no fight because he’d likely kill you by accident. Plus, he’s a minor. And he’s a witch.”
“He’s male. They’re nothing,” Corrigan said.
Jensen started laughing, full-on, gut-busting laughing. “Oh, my god. He goes to Arcane, you fool. Only the top witches go there.”
I was pretty sure I wasn’t a top anything as a witch, but I kept my mouth shut.
“Are you… are you the Steward’s daughter?” a teen girl at a table of teens suddenly asked Vesta. The whole bistro had become focused on my girl as word spread around the room.
“See?” Vesta said to me before turning to the girl. “Yes. I’m Vesta, by the way.”
“I’m Jasmine. Is he your…?” the girl asked, looking my way.
“Yes. He’s mine,” Vesta said with a sigh.
“She wonders why she keeps me around,” I said to the girl, Jasmine.
“I think I know,” Max’s mom said.
“Yeah,” Jasmine agreed.
“Okay, well, I guess the show is over,” Agent Jensen said, clapping her hands. “You two think you can break free for a moment? Unless the deputies here need a statement or something?”
“Ah, no, no. The video is plenty,” deputy one said rather hastily. “Should we be expecting a visit from, ah, your father?” he asked Vesta.
“Actually, that’s why I’m here,” Caeco said. “I came looking for these two and the Steward sent me here to collect them. He said you could get us back to your home,” she said to Vesta.
“Yup. No problem.”
“Well, let’s go…” Caeco said, pushing open the door and revealing a large crowd that seemed to be getting bigger by the second. “Hmm. Thoughts?”
“No one out back,” I said. “Exit the door out the kitchen and she can open a portal before anyone can get there.”
“Yup. Let’s do exactly that.”
So we did.