you want, you can transport their consciousness somewhere else—”
“There’s a lot of options,” I said. “I know they depend on how powerful or skilled the witch or warlock is. How do you break someone out of one?” This was a conversation I’d had over a hundred times now, and I could already tell it would be the same as all the others.
“The original caster has to do it,” Trenton said.
“And if you don’t have the original caster?” I asked.
He mulled that over for a moment. “It’s near impossible. You’d need to—”
“Assess the cause, figure out the exact spell, find a witch or warlock that basically has the power of a god and can counter it—and then hope that they do it right because if even one thing goes wrong the person in the coma is likely to die. Anything else? Come on, Florida State, dig deep.”
His mouth fell open, and then closed. “If you already know all of this, then why are you asking me?” I looked at him and laughed humorlessly.
“Because I keep hoping I’ll find someone that can give me a different answer.”
At that, I moved to get to my feet.
“What—” he started. I reached over the table and hit him upside the head with the butt of my pistol. Again.
I’d done this exact thing so many times now that just like his answers, I knew where it was going. I’d pull him out of the booth. He’d try to curse me and run. Or, provided we got past that, we’d get out to the street where he would inevitably find some stupid supe that would try to help because they didn’t know what they were getting involved with.
Trenton fell sideways, and I hauled him out of his seat. Flinging his longer arm over my shoulder, I wrapped mine around his waist and walked right out the front door.
Now, anyone that saw us would think he was drunk, and I was the poor girlfriend or friend helping his ass get home. Worked like a charm every time.
With it being dark out, most people didn’t look close enough to notice how hard I gripped his middle, or that there was a goose egg forming on the side of his head where I’d hit him twice.
The wind whipped through the alleyway the second I made it outside. My blonde hair tangled, strands slipping from the braid to cut across my eyes, and they got stuck on my mouth.
“Ugh,” I groaned, swiping it back in place once more as I dragged Trenton down the alley with me, thankful for the extra hours I’d been working out. Dark clouds blotted out most of the sky, but an almost full moon peaked through every now and then as the wind blew them south.
Most of the buildings appeared uninhabited, but they would any time after dark, regardless of whether people were in them or not. Not a lot of cars ran in the city nowadays, apart from taxis. They were still heinously expensive, though, and other methods had popped up for getting around, both more and less effective—all relying on magic. I preferred my own two feet because I was the only thing I could trust in this whole goddamned city.
We passed through the worst of town with nothing more than some interested looks from beggars and lowlifes. One flash of my gun and they would turn the other way.
Magic may be flashy and get you far in this world, but a gun still did the trick—less impressive as it may be.
My fingers were stiff, and my cheeks flushed when I finally came to stand beneath the flashing yellow sign that read: The Underworld.
It was a casino, a hotel, a place to buy and sell almost anything—but most importantly, it was where I worked. I walked around the side. The alley was seedy. The pipes leaked. The concrete cracked or was crushed in places. A chain-link fence blocked off the other side, but lucky for me, I only needed the heavy metal door on my right.
I wrenched it open, pushing Trenton through it first, and then following after.
The door slammed shut at my back as lights flickered on in the hallway. At the very end of it, a door that led out into the main casino opened and closed, music played, and lights pulsed with every movement as servers and armed guards walked in and out. I ignored that one for the moment and instead dragged my ass to the door on the right