Cold Burn of Magic
Page 6
Mostly, though, the tourists loved to dawdle on the sidewalks, lick their disgusting ice cream cones, and gawk at everything, even though they could see the exact same stuff back home if only they looked hard enough. Talented magicks were everywhere. Monsters, too.
But legend had it that Cloudburst Mountain itself was particularly magical, especially since so much bloodiron had been discovered and mined there. Some folks even claimed that the mountain emanated power, sort of like a giant magnet, which was why so many magicks and monsters made their homes in, near, on, and around it. Either way, the town officials had decided to play up the magic angle. Well, they and the Families. The Families got a cut of everything in this town, including all the cash the tourists left behind.
I plopped down in an aisle seat on the trolley. The lady sitting by the window didn’t even glance at me. Instead, she raised her camera and snapped a photo of a food cart shaped like a miniature metal castle, as if she’d never seen a guy wearing a black cloak and matching cavalier hat, holding metal skewers full of hot dogs and roasting them with the flames shooting out of his fingertips.
I rolled my eyes. Tourist rubes were the worst. I thought about stealing her wallet, just on principle, but I decided against it. The twenty bucks that was probably inside wasn’t worth the hassle.
Thirty minutes later, the trolley stopped in front of one of the many squares that branched off the Midway, the main tourist drag in the center of town. While the tourists were grabbing their purses, cameras, and jumbo sodas, I was already striding down the aisle and stepping off the trolley.
The street ran by the front of the square, while shops and restaurants made up the other three sides, with several walkways in between the buildings leading back to the Midway or to the next square over. A park lay in the middle of the area, with leafy trees that provided a bit of shade from the mid-May heat. A gray stone fountain shaped like Cloudburst Mountain, complete with a waterfall on one side, gushed in the center of the park.
A bronze plaque stood next to the fountain, telling about the town’s history and how two local families—the Sinclairs and the Draconis—had started guiding folks up the mountain to see the falls and monsters. Some of those early tourists swore that drinking the water and breathing in the clouds of mist from the falls cured everything from baldness to stomachaches, and the views were so spectacular and the monsters so creepy that word got out, and more and more folks began flocking to the area. As a result, Cloudburst Falls was pretty much tourist-central all year-round now, although the summer months were the most crowded.
I snorted. The plaque failed to mention the real history of the town. Namely, that the Sinclairs and the Draconis had both been poor mountain families who ran moonshine during Prohibition before they realized they could make more money by luring tourists to town and showing them the scenery and monsters. Rumor had it that a Sinclair had opened up the first business in town, a shack selling fudge and other sweets to tourists at the base of the mountain. A Draconi had retaliated by setting up an ice cream cart. And so on and so forth, until the town had become what it was today, with the Sinclairs and the Draconis still fighting for control of everything. It was more Hatfields and McCoys, or Capulets and Montagues, than a fairy tale come true, but the town officials had prettied up the past, just like they had everything else.
I was skirting the fountain when a pack of girls stepped in front of me, laughing and talking. I rolled my eyes and pulled up short, but I still couldn’t help clipping the shoulder of the girl on the edge of the pack, one who looked around my age.
“Watch where you’re going,” she growled.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I snapped right back.
The girl stopped, then turned to face me. She was beautiful, with long golden hair, perfect porcelain skin, and dark blue eyes that glittered with anger. She was the only girl in the group not wearing a sundress, although her white shorts and cropped red top were still the best that money could buy.
So was the black blade belted to her waist.
Guns had long ago been banned in Cloudburst Falls for the simple reason that big, beefy, scary-looking guards carrying guns made the tourist rubes nervous. So the Sinclairs, Draconis, and other Families kept law and order with swords, daggers, and, you know, other sharp, pointed weapons. And the tourism officials had totally embraced the idea, claiming that the old-fashioned weapons added to the town’s magical atmosphere. Whatever.
Besides, a gun wouldn’t do you much good against someone with a speed Talent, who could dodge bullets like they were as big and slow as beach balls. A little more magic and a whole lot more skill was involved to keep out of the way of a sword’s edge for any length of time, especially if the person wielding the weapon knew what she was doing.
This girl looked like she knew exactly what to do with her sword. In fact, she was already rocking back and forth on her feet, ready to attack me at a moment’s notice, studying me as closely as I was her.
She took in my battered black backpack, sneakers, gray cargo pants, and faded blue T-shirt that had been washed and worn a dozen times too many before her gaze focused on my wrist. I knew what she was looking for. A cuff that would let her know which Family I belonged to, if any.
Like the one she was wearing.
A gold cuff wrapped around her right wrist, a snarling dragon stamped into the middle of the gleaming metal. Blond hair, black blade, gold cuff. Terrific. Out of all the girls in the square, out of all the ones in the entire town, I had to run into her.
But legend had it that Cloudburst Mountain itself was particularly magical, especially since so much bloodiron had been discovered and mined there. Some folks even claimed that the mountain emanated power, sort of like a giant magnet, which was why so many magicks and monsters made their homes in, near, on, and around it. Either way, the town officials had decided to play up the magic angle. Well, they and the Families. The Families got a cut of everything in this town, including all the cash the tourists left behind.
I plopped down in an aisle seat on the trolley. The lady sitting by the window didn’t even glance at me. Instead, she raised her camera and snapped a photo of a food cart shaped like a miniature metal castle, as if she’d never seen a guy wearing a black cloak and matching cavalier hat, holding metal skewers full of hot dogs and roasting them with the flames shooting out of his fingertips.
I rolled my eyes. Tourist rubes were the worst. I thought about stealing her wallet, just on principle, but I decided against it. The twenty bucks that was probably inside wasn’t worth the hassle.
Thirty minutes later, the trolley stopped in front of one of the many squares that branched off the Midway, the main tourist drag in the center of town. While the tourists were grabbing their purses, cameras, and jumbo sodas, I was already striding down the aisle and stepping off the trolley.
The street ran by the front of the square, while shops and restaurants made up the other three sides, with several walkways in between the buildings leading back to the Midway or to the next square over. A park lay in the middle of the area, with leafy trees that provided a bit of shade from the mid-May heat. A gray stone fountain shaped like Cloudburst Mountain, complete with a waterfall on one side, gushed in the center of the park.
A bronze plaque stood next to the fountain, telling about the town’s history and how two local families—the Sinclairs and the Draconis—had started guiding folks up the mountain to see the falls and monsters. Some of those early tourists swore that drinking the water and breathing in the clouds of mist from the falls cured everything from baldness to stomachaches, and the views were so spectacular and the monsters so creepy that word got out, and more and more folks began flocking to the area. As a result, Cloudburst Falls was pretty much tourist-central all year-round now, although the summer months were the most crowded.
I snorted. The plaque failed to mention the real history of the town. Namely, that the Sinclairs and the Draconis had both been poor mountain families who ran moonshine during Prohibition before they realized they could make more money by luring tourists to town and showing them the scenery and monsters. Rumor had it that a Sinclair had opened up the first business in town, a shack selling fudge and other sweets to tourists at the base of the mountain. A Draconi had retaliated by setting up an ice cream cart. And so on and so forth, until the town had become what it was today, with the Sinclairs and the Draconis still fighting for control of everything. It was more Hatfields and McCoys, or Capulets and Montagues, than a fairy tale come true, but the town officials had prettied up the past, just like they had everything else.
I was skirting the fountain when a pack of girls stepped in front of me, laughing and talking. I rolled my eyes and pulled up short, but I still couldn’t help clipping the shoulder of the girl on the edge of the pack, one who looked around my age.
“Watch where you’re going,” she growled.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I snapped right back.
The girl stopped, then turned to face me. She was beautiful, with long golden hair, perfect porcelain skin, and dark blue eyes that glittered with anger. She was the only girl in the group not wearing a sundress, although her white shorts and cropped red top were still the best that money could buy.
So was the black blade belted to her waist.
Guns had long ago been banned in Cloudburst Falls for the simple reason that big, beefy, scary-looking guards carrying guns made the tourist rubes nervous. So the Sinclairs, Draconis, and other Families kept law and order with swords, daggers, and, you know, other sharp, pointed weapons. And the tourism officials had totally embraced the idea, claiming that the old-fashioned weapons added to the town’s magical atmosphere. Whatever.
Besides, a gun wouldn’t do you much good against someone with a speed Talent, who could dodge bullets like they were as big and slow as beach balls. A little more magic and a whole lot more skill was involved to keep out of the way of a sword’s edge for any length of time, especially if the person wielding the weapon knew what she was doing.
This girl looked like she knew exactly what to do with her sword. In fact, she was already rocking back and forth on her feet, ready to attack me at a moment’s notice, studying me as closely as I was her.
She took in my battered black backpack, sneakers, gray cargo pants, and faded blue T-shirt that had been washed and worn a dozen times too many before her gaze focused on my wrist. I knew what she was looking for. A cuff that would let her know which Family I belonged to, if any.
Like the one she was wearing.
A gold cuff wrapped around her right wrist, a snarling dragon stamped into the middle of the gleaming metal. Blond hair, black blade, gold cuff. Terrific. Out of all the girls in the square, out of all the ones in the entire town, I had to run into her.
