Magic Brew Read online

  MAGIC BREW

  By T. Rae Mitchell

  Genre: New Adult Urban Fantasy

  If you like Dresden Files and Iron Druid Chronicles, you’ll love this fast-paced urban fantasy thriller inspired by the cult hit movie, The Warriors.

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Supernatural gangs. Out for blood. Tonight they bleed.

  Something bad's about to go down at a supernatural gangland summit. Being part Djinn gives Edge a razor-sharp ability for knowing what’s ahead. It’s why his gang, the Forsaken, is undefeated. But this time he’s plagued by a vague, supersized case of the dreads.

  Sure enough, the brown stuff hits the spinning thing at the summit. The gang’s been double-crossed and Edge finds himself at the center of an ancient power struggle he never knew existed. Now he’s running with what’s left of his gang through enemy territory thick with bloodthirsty gangs of shifters, witches, vamps and demons hunting them for the bounty on their heads.

  Good thing Edge has an angel sitting on his shoulder–albeit a depressed one–because it looks like it’s going to be a hell of a night.

  Start reading and dive into this edgy, supernatural adventure today!

  PRAISE FOR MAGIC BREW

  “YOU'RE IN FOR QUITE A TREAT”

  Magic Brew is…The Warriors with an Urban Fantasy twist… The world created here is imaginative and engaging…every single character you meet is a fully-rendered person with their own personality, strengths, weaknesses and desires.” ~ San Francisco Book Review ★★★★★

  “FANS OF THE MAZE RUNNER WILL LOVE THIS BOOK”

  “Magic Brew is a fast-paced adventure with unforgettable characters and a strong narrative voice. Holding true to its name, it’s a kick-ass blend of every sort of fantasy creature you can imagine. A literary feast for fantasy geeks. ~ Tiana Warner, author of Ice Massacre ★★★★★

  “GRABBED ME FROM THE FIRST PAGE AND DIDN'T LET GO”

  “Edge is a strong, smart, larger-than-life hero who battles evil with just the right touch of humanity...” ~ Award winning author, Kay Gregory ★★★★★

  “FULL OF ACTION, SUSPENSE, BETRAYAL AND LOSS”

  “This was a great start to a new series and I look forward to what comes next for the characters.” ~ Lucky Devil Reviews ★★★★

  “MAGIC AND CHAOS ARE WOVEN IN WITH JUST THE RIGHT BLEND”

  “Vivid world building and vast and varied characters combined with seemingly unbeatable odds turned this story into a thrilling but also nail-biting race/chase through New York.” ~ Award winning author, Jacqui Nelson ★★★★★

  “WHAT A BLAST!”

  “Magical gang wars, betrayal, hard core battles, laughter (including my own - out loud), love, and death. There is some great character growth involved in the book, even better it's with all the characters.” ~ Goodreads Reviewer ★★★★★

  “AWESOME READ TO THRILL, MYSTIFY AND ENTERTAIN”

  “… a tight knit and uniquely bonded gang of half breeds……you will feel their disappointment, their pain and loss…” ~ 2 Read Book ★★★★★

  “A SUPERNATURAL VERSION OF THE CULT MOVIE, THE WARRIORS”

  “There is SO much going on in this book! It's well written, action packed and the characters are well developed and interesting.” ~ Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  “…LOOKING FORWARD TO MORE WORKS BY T. RAE MITCHELL”

  “Magic Brew is a fast paced, imaginative and totally captivating novel from start to finish.” ~ Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★

  Magic Brew

  By T. Rae Mitchell

  First Edition published September 15, 2015

  ISBN 978-0-9917987-6-6 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-0-9917987-7-3 (ebook)

  Copyright © 2015 by T. Rae Mitchell

  Cover & book design © 2018 by Terry Mitchell

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Original Mix Media Inc.

  1685 H Street #1046

  Blaine, WA 98230

  www.OriginalMixMedia.com

  Table Of Contents

  1 - On Edge

  2 - We’re The Forsaken

  3 - End Of The Line

  4 - Bad Hat Summit

  5 - Double Cross

  6 - Mayhem

  7 - Damaged Goods

  8 - Evil Dread

  9 - Shadow Surfing

  10 - Downhill From Here

  11 - Ghouls Will Be Ghouls

  12 - All Saints Feast

  13 - Rockabilly Knights

  14 - My Anguish

  15 - Dead Dogs

  16 - Bonegrinders

  17 - Weeds

  18 - Where The Wildlings Are

  19 - Weakest Links

  20 - You’ve Been Pinked

  21 - Spider Bite

  22 - Enter All Creatures

  23 - Ain’t Wise To Mess With Witches

  24 - Distortions of Darkness

  25 - Mechanized Warfare

  26 - Swarm

  27 - King Of The Hill

  28 - Something Wicked This Way Comes

  29 - Lava Lamp Genie

  30 - Burn Baby Burn

  31 - Heartstone

  32 - Goodie Bag

  33 - Shine On

  Forsaken Gang Stats

  Rival Supernatural Gang Stats

  Author Afterword

  About the Author

  On Edge

  THE FRONT DOOR TO MADDOX’S PLACE SLAMS, making me drop the journal I know damn well I shouldn’t be reading. If he catches me, he’ll put my eyes out.

  Literally. It’s the law for seeing things you’re not allowed to see.

  I shove the black leather book back under the mattress and reach into my center, where the fire lives, trying to picture the boardwalk so I can teleport my ass out of his room. But I can’t get past my rampaging fear. Adrenaline’s firing through my veins hot as acid and my heart’s pounding so loud in my ears it’s all I can hear.

  I sense Maddox’s suspicion. He already knows there’s a trespasser on the other side of the door.

  I am so much dead meat.

  The bedroom door bangs open. “Edge? What the hell are you doing in here?”

  I avoid looking into Maddox’s eyes. I can’t risk getting trapped in that stare. There’s a pink flush under his bone pale skin. He’s fed at least. Just maybe he’ll be in a good mood and I can talk my way out of this.

  Or maybe not.

  His lips twist into a furious snarl. “Look at me,” he says.

  I can’t help myself. My eyes lock with his. I’m lost in the cold depth of his stare and now he knows what I did.

  “You read my journal?”

  I try to look away, but he’s got me ensnared in that freakin’ hypnotic vampire scowl. “I…I didn’t mean to find it. I was looking for that stash of Velvet Haze I gave you.”

  That’s no lie. I need something extra smooth to take the edge off, and a nice big drag of that special blend of nightshade, moonflowers and mandrake is the only thing I know’ll do the trick. This trip into the city tonight is really messing with me.

  I haven’t been any farther than Brooklyn since Maddox brought me to Coney Island ten years ago. I wa
s just a scrawny kid then, surviving on the streets of New York relieving gullies of their watches, wallets and anything else I wanted. Only problem was, my moves made me the target of every gang in the area. Unlike all those gullible humans, who only believe what they’re told to believe, most of the gangs in New York are supernatural like me.

  Well, not exactly like me.

  None of them are part Djinn. And no, I don’t grant wishes like Jeannie. That’s right, I’ve seen the show. Okay, more than once. I may have been known to stream some of the old shows a time or two. What can I say? Jeannie’s hot and the show makes me laugh. Except for the being stuffed in a bottle part and made a slave. With the right spell, that’s a very real possibility for me. It turns out I’m a bit of a rare commodity. My ability to dematerialize into smoke and teleport anywhere, even warded locations, is something others–mostly warlocks and witches–have wanted to capitalize on for as long as I can remember.

  Pissed me right off that they thought that’s all I was good for. I could’ve been a real asset if one of the gangs had let me join. But those pureblood douches look down on halfbreeds like me. Maddox didn’t though. Which is why, if he wants to end me here and now, I won’t fight him. Doesn’t matter if I’m so scared I’m about to drop a deuce in my pants. He’s the only one in this screwed up world who’s given me family, respect and the means to protect myself. If he wants to, it’s his right to take away the life he’s given me.

  “Sorry, man. I know I shouldn’t have cracked your diary open.” I attempt a lame smile and chuckle, an indication I’m not feeling nearly as self-sacrificing as I think. “Call me a curious cat.” I leave out that I’m burning with questions after reading his entry with today’s date.

  “A metaphor which implies you should be killed.” He runs the tip of his tongue over one of his sharp incisors.

  Terror ices through me again. I gulp, a pathetic sound that fills the quiet room.

  Maddox’s unwavering gaze bores into my head, probing deep. Everything I am is laid bare. I’m shocked. And hurt. He’s done surface scans on me before, but never to the core. At this point there’s nothing about me he doesn’t know–private stuff that’s always been mine alone are now his.

  In a heartbeat, I go from gratitude to rage for violating me this way.

  Maddox lets go. The humiliation stops, but the resentment’s just begun.

  He pulls a tiny glass vial from the pocket of his leather coat and snorts the moss-colored granules it contains. Pixie dust, a nice name for dried pixie spit. Nasty stuff that turns most everybody into revved up arrogant jerks who can’t stop jawing about themselves because they think they’ve suddenly turned into a superstar. It’s annoying. They never clue in they’ve been infected by pixie.

  At least Maddox isn’t affected that way. The dust actually mellows him out, which I guess is why India’s his girlfriend. She’s a pixie with some demon mixed in.

  “Round up the troops and get them to the pub. It’s close to go time,” Maddox says, his lids now heavy with pixie opiate. He’s been doing a lot more of the stuff lately. And after what I just read in his journal, something major is happening. Which would explain why he’s as keyed up about tonight as I am.

  “So…we’re cool now?” I ask.

  Maddox tilts his head to one side. Long strands of winter-white hair fall down over one eye and the silver cross dangling from his ear rests on his skin, burning a red mark over the double cross tattoo on his neck. Don’t ask. He always does the opposite of what you’d expect.

  “Didn’t say that,” he says, his anger flaring again. “You crashed my pad and poked your nose in my private stash. You know I can’t let that slide. I’ll deal with you later,” he promises. “Right now I need you to sack up and be my second.”

  I should be relieved I’m not going to die or be blinded at this very moment, but I’m even queasier with dread than I was before. I can’t put my finger on it. Something’s not right.

  Maddox grabs a wooden box inscribed with symbols from a shelf full of old grimoires. I’m pretty sure he knows magic better than any warlocks I’ve ever had the displeasure of crossing paths with. Those dudes are dangerous. They came the closest to catching me. “Why are you so spooked?” he asks, his attention on rifling through the box’s contents.

  I want to punch him. He shouldn’t have to ask. Not after that brain rape. “It’s this summit you’re making us go to tonight. I don’t get why we’re invited. You know how they all feel about halfbreeds.”

  “They’re making an exception. We’ve proven our power.”

  I don’t buy that. Centuries-old prejudices don’t change overnight. “What if it’s a trap?”

  Maddox looks up from the box. “You don’t trust my judgment on this?” he says, his voice sharp. He grips my hand, twisting it palm up to look at the symbol tattooed on the inside of my wrist. “You have my protection. Isn’t that enough?”

  I stare at the protective ward he inked into my skin when he first brought me into his gang. Two concentric circles inside a downward pointing triangle with the Djinn glyph, consisting of a line, squiggle and a dot at the very center. When he needled that blue ink into my skin, he told me I’d never have to fear being enslaved again. He promised me his wards were unbreakable.

  Tonight will be the true test of his magic when we’re standing next to every gang in New York under some sort of truce. I want to trust Maddox, but this relentless sense of danger won’t let up.

  I don’t get why he isn’t listening to me. The main reason he made me his second in command is because I can sense what’s ahead. I can tell him if there’s six Swamp Lords hiding in wait around the next corner and where each one’s positioned. Maddox says we’re undefeated because I’ve given our gang the edge no one else has. It’s how I earned my name.

  Maddox slaps the large braided joint I’d risked my life to find into my upturned hand, and releases his grip on me. He hasn’t smoked my masterful weave of potent botanicals I gave him a few weeks back. I’m a touch insulted.

  “I trust you,” I say, raising my gaze to his. He seems calmer, but he’s put up a wall. The conversation is over.

  I wave the Velvet Haze at him. “Thanks. This’ll help. See ya back at the pub.”

  Anxious to split, I waste no time curling my awareness inward, allowing the unceasing violet fire in my core to consume me. In the flash of a second, I’m pure heat, liquid smoke and air snaking through space and time.

  2

  We’re The Forsaken

  SOMETIMES I WANT TO REMAIN IN THIS LOOSE, fluid state forever. This is where I’m free. But I never stay this way too long. If I did, I might lose myself in the vastness of space and become nothing more than stardust.

  That scares me.

  I put my attention on Magic Brew–the can to be exact. In that moment, my fiery particles solidify into dense matter and I’m gravity’s slave once again.

  Oh man, it reeks in here. The smell of the urinals is more than my churning stomach can take. I run to the toilet and hurl my lunch. There’s a good chance I’ll never eat fish tacos again.

  With sweat pouring off me, I stagger to the sink and splash water on my face. Leaning in to get a better look through the smudged mirror, I stare into my bloodshot violet eyes–the telltale color of the Djinn. I like to think I have the eyes of my mother, but the truth is, I really don’t know if they’re hers or not. Same goes for my high cheekbones and mouth. They might belong to my father, but I’ll never know.

  The only thing I know about this mug of mine is who gave me the thin scar slashed across my left brow and cheek. Warlocks. I suppose that’s something.

  Running my hand over the growth of stubble along my jaw, I turn my head from side to side. Whoever my long-gone parents are, I suppose they popped out a half-decent looking kid. The ladies go after me like I’m made of ice cream. Curious as I am about what mom and dad looked like, I’d appreciate more knowing which one was Djinn. But if I have to, I can live without ever knowing that
. What’s really driving me nuts is not knowing if one of them was human.

  Every muscle tightens. I can’t have gullie blood. Being human is the lowest of the low.

  Desperate for a change of attitude, I light up and inhale deeply. As the thick indigo smoke fills my lungs, delicious euphoria flushes through my chest, rushes to my head, buzzing all the way to my fingers and toes. I’m practically floating.

  Hurley busts through the swinging door, harshing my newfound cool. “Hey bro. Whatcha got there? Is that Black Venom?” He reaches for my joint and I push him away, which is easy to do. He’s a wiry stick that's only about 120 pounds soaking wet. Unless you piss him off. That’s when the hulking Japanese Oni demon comes out.

  “What’s up, man?” Hurley snarls, his fine-boned elfin features thickening into crude lines. “Don’t Bogart the good stuff.”

  “This isn’t Knox’s crap,” I say, totally offended he’d think this masterpiece is one of Knox’s disgusting batches of ragweed soaked in snake bile and pig’s blood. “It’s my own special blend.” I take another long drag and blow the smoke in his face.

  Hurley samples it with a big sniff. Unhappy with the smell, his skin turns red and he bares his fangs. “Gross, there’s mandrake in it.”

  I nod with a lazy smile. Demons don’t like plants with magical properties, but Hurley’s part Shinto forest elf. He should be going for it. Faes love mandrake and the like.

  “Where’s Maddox?” he asks. “We’re all itchin’ to go.”

  “The whole gang’s here?”

  “All but Zulu,” Hurley says as he walks over to the urinal. “Last I heard he was headed down to the boardwalk for some tail.”

  He’s not exaggerating. Every time Zulu gets amped up, he finds himself a mermaid. I have no clue how that works, anatomically speaking. I guess since he’s got gills and webbed hands and feet, he has the necessary parts to get down with those fishy skanks. I just hope he got what he needed and won’t be any trouble tonight. The self-important bastard’s always vying for control. He wants to be president, and he’s always in my face about how he should be second in command instead of me.