Razor Dreams: The Seventh Jonathan Shade Novel Page 17

  “Now, Brenda!” I yelled.

  Brenda cradled her injured hand and limped toward the trapped darkness. She shoved her good hand through the light and touched the dark.

  The light exploded outward, sending Brenda crashing backward through the wall. The darkness staggered backward a step, twisted with an awful scraping noise.

  “Uh-oh,” I said before a stone fist smacked me in the face.

  I saw it coming, so I rolled with it, but holy shit did it hurt. I bounced off the dresser and fell to the floor.

  Kelly popped up to her feet and slammed a solid sidekick right into the stone man's chest. He flew backward, crashed through the window, and fell ten stories to the ground.

  I rubbed my jaw as I pushed myself up and joined Kelly at the window. We stared down and saw chunks of rock scattered in the parking lot. The rocks rolled a bit one way, back the other, then flipped toward one another.

  “It's re-forming,” I said.

  “I hate magic,” Kelly said.

  “We need to keep it apart,” I said.

  “I'm on it,” Kelly said and slipped out the window. She dropped two floors and caught the brick outcropping before another window then repeated the move to climb down to the parking lot.

  “I can't do that,” I said.

  “Need a ride?” Monica asked. She grabbed the ironing board from the closet, tossed it toward me, and waved her hands to keep it afloat like a surfboard.

  I jumped up, keeping crouched so I wouldn't bump my head on the stucco ceiling, and tried to keep my balance. I teetered one way then had to place a hand on the ceiling to steady myself. I pushed down and tried to stand as much as I could, but the ironing board tilted and I fell off onto the bed.

  “I'm not a surfer,” I said. “Let's try it this way.” I flipped the board over, extended the legs with a metallic screech, and climbed aboard using the metal legs as handles.

  “Attaboy!” Esther said.

  Monica walked over to the window and used her magic to send the ironing board outside. I ducked and felt a piece of glass scratch my back, but it wasn't too bad.

  “Ready?” Monica asked.

  “Oh yeah,” I said.

  “This will only work if I can keep you in my direct line of sight.”

  She sent the ironing board sailing down. I had a little control by tipping one way or another. I could pull back and push forward to adjust how the board rode the wind, and as the ground rushed toward me, I realized I'd just put my life in the hands of my sister, who blamed me for the death of our parents. If she wanted to, she could fly me right into the cement and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop her.

  Kelly kicked stones left and right. Two stones sailed through the air at her and she caught them, slammed them together. Pebbles and dust scattered on the parking lot and pinged off parked cars.

  I swooped toward her and pulled back on the legs of the ironing board. The board whipped back and slapped several stones apart. More stones shot into the air. One smacked me in the gut; another, in the arm. The ironing board skipped off the roof of a Volkswagen Bug then shot into the air. I held on for dear life as Monica guided it around. I sailed around like the Silver Surfer aiming at a pile of rocks beginning to take on humanoid form like the Thing from the Fantastic Four.

  “It's clobbering time!” I yelled and plowed into the stone man.

  The impact threw me over the legs of the board, and I crashed into a minivan. I hit the ground hard, pushed myself to my hands and knees, and shook my head. The stone man remained intact. He reached for me but then fell on top of me as Kelly kicked him in the back.

  “Oof!” I said, the wind rushing from my lungs.

  Kelly grabbed the stone man by one leg, yanked him up, and slammed him into the ground. Pieces of him shattered.

  “Throw down clothes and towels and blankets!” Kelly yelled.

  I fought to pull air into my lungs.

  Towels, pillowcases, sheets, and blankets rained from above.

  Kelly punched a rock, and I heard her hand break.

  She pulled me up with her good hand and shoved me toward the falling material. “Gather the pieces in cloth, and keep them separated.”

  Rocks flew at Kelly. She flipped out of the way, and several stones smacked parked cars, setting off alarms. People stared out windows. One man watched from a doorway off to the side.

  I raced over, grabbed two pillowcases, and tossed a couple of rocks into each. I tied the cases closed and tossed them aside. Next I grabbed towels and filled them with a few rocks each, twisting them so they would remain closed. The pillowcases danced on the ground, but with two rocks in each, they couldn't get launched properly.

  Kelly kicked a rock toward me, and I caught it in a sheet. I wrapped the sheet around it, smashed it on the ground, and wrapped another rock in the same sheet before moving on.

  We worked that way, filling sheets, towels, washcloths, shirts, pants, socks, underwear, bras, robes, blankets, you name it.

  I looked up at the window where Monica and Brenda watched. Esther floated outside the window, smiling. “It's all berries!” she said.

  “We're going to need some new clothes,” Monica said.

  “They're starkers,” Esther said with a grin.

  Kelly walked over, smiling. “Now we just have to get rid of the rocks.”

  “How's your hand?” I asked.

  She held it up, clenched a fist, unclenched it. “Already healed.”

  “Must be nice,” I said and turned to show her the cut on my back. A few bruises were already forming on my arms and stomach.

  “Poor little baby,” Kelly said.

  “Hey,” I said. “I have to live with the pain.”

  “Yes,” she said, “but you got to surf on an ironing board.”

  I grinned. “True that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  We got rid of the stones. Most of them were scattered in New York Harbor all around Ellis Island. Some went into a vault at DGI. I wanted to object to that, but Brenda talked me into being calm about it. Amazing how a beautiful woman will make me forget an argument.

  Monica went home, Kelly went to her room to nap, and Esther wandered the streets of New York to give me some privacy.

  Brenda and I spent that night together. The stone statue of Martin stood in the center of the room in front of the television.

  “I'm not sure I want to get naked in front of that,” she said.

  “He's dead. Besides, you were naked in front of it earlier.”

  “Sure, but his face was to the floor, so he couldn't see us.”

  “True.”

  “It's creepy.”

  “You think he can see from those stoned eyes? Like, wow, man,” I said in my best stoner voice. “Hot chicks are cool.”

  She slapped at me. “You don't know. Maybe he can. And some of the things I want to do to you tonight are illegal in most states.”

  “Yeah, but who's he going to tell?”

  “If you don't want to have fun . . .”

  “Say no more,” I said and kissed her knuckles like a knight ready to go on a quest.

  I pushed Martin into the corner so his back was to us. The next morning, a crew from DGI was scheduled to pick him up because Brenda wanted to put him in her office.

  “Better?” I asked once he was the bad boy in the corner.

  “Much.” She gave me a smile that brightened the entire room. “Now come to bed.”

  ***

  Around noon the following day, Brenda and I met Monica at a restaurant by Penn Station. As always, there were people everywhere, but in spite of its being incredibly busy, Monica assured me that she could get a table. Someone would no doubt be finishing their meal right as she approached, and if anyone else were in line ahead of her, she would have reservations in spite of scheduling the lunch thirty minutes before. And sure enough, when we arrived, I moved past thirty people waiting in the cramped entrance to approach the hostess.

  “We're me
eting someone,” I said.

  “You must be Jonathan and Brenda,” the hostess said. “Ms. Chastain is expecting you. Allow me to escort you to her table.”

  We followed the hostess into the restaurant, and Monica had a nice table with water already placed for us.

  “Enjoy your meal,” the hostess said.

  “Your transfer came through,” Monica said as soon as the hostess moved away from the table.

  “Hello to you too,” I said.

  “Five million dollars. All cleared. You weren't lying.”

  I pulled out a chair so Brenda could be seated. She wore a nice thin, long-sleeved dress; sheer pantyhose; and elegant gloves. I sat down beside her and picked up a menu. “I'm still offended that you think so little of me.”

  “You've moved up several levels on the esteem front, little brother.”

  “But you still want me out of your city.”

  “You're allowed to visit,” she said. “On a contingency basis.”

  “Booty call,” Brenda whispered.

  I smiled. “Works for me.”

  “Where's Kelly?” Monica asked. “I wanted to thank her. I think she saved our lives. I think you both did.”

  “She's at the hotel, getting to know Esther,” I said.

  Monica nodded then fidgeted a bit. She stared at the table more than me, but her words were sincere. “I'm sorry about . . . well, everything. I blamed you for Mom and Dad, and that was wrong of me. I blamed you for Janey, and that was wrong too. I never considered what you were going through.”

  “In a sense, you were right to blame me. Mom and Dad died trying to protect me, and I wasn't there for Janey when I should have been.”

  “You were young. Just a kid, really. It wasn't your fault.”

  I shrugged. “Don't go all chick flick on me. I don't want to lose any man points by getting misty-eyed.”

  “I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I'm here for you.”

  “And I'm here for you,” I said.

  “You're still not allowed to live in New York.”

  “Don't worry,” I said. “Too many jackhammers going off at all hours of the night and day.”

  “It's in the rule book for living in the Big Apple, little brother. Shall we order?”

  “Sure, if the waitress will ever come over here.”

  Monica winked. “I've been keeping her away with magic, but I can use the same magic to call her. Watch.” She gave her nose one of those Bewitched twitches, and the waitress hurried over.

  “Hi,” she said. “I'm sorry I didn't get over here sooner. Can I take your order?”

  ***

  A few hours later, I sat on the bed in Kelly's hotel room. Esther sat beside me, leaning against the headboard.

  “I'm not willing to swear allegiance to you,” Kelly said, standing before me.

  “I understand,” I said.

  “My allegiance is only to myself.”

  I nodded.

  “I was right to kill Martin.”

  I shrugged. “No argument.”

  She drew a deep breath, sat down on the bed across from me, and stared into my eyes. “We worked well together.”

  “We did.”

  “In many ways our instincts combined are better than they are separate.”

  “Oh,” Esther said. “I know what's coming!” And she clapped her hands with excitement.

  Kelly glanced over at her and grinned. “Ghost girl is on to me.”

  “Living man is still waiting,” I said.

  She kept the grin, which was a good thing. She reached for my right hand and held it in a firm handshake. “I think we're probably going to be better together than apart, so instead of my allegiance, I offer you my friendship.”

  I smiled and said, “That's all I've ever wanted.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Gary Jonas grew up in a military family, so he moved a lot as a child. His original plan was to be a comic book artist, but in college things changed. He took a creative writing class for the easy A, and found that when he wrote stories, people were affected emotionally by them in ways they weren’t by his artwork. He switched from art to writing without ever looking back. Well, he might have looked back a few times, but by then it was too late. He sold his first short story to Marion Zimmer Bradley for the anthology Sword and Sorceress VII. Many short story sales followed to various magazines and anthologies including Robert Bloch’s Psychos, It Came from the Drive-In, 100 Vicious Little Vampire Stories, Prom Night, and many more.

  His first novel, One-Way Ticket to Midnight, was published in 2002, It made the preliminary ballot for the Bram Stoker Award. While the novel was well-reviewed, it didn’t sell diddly squat, so Gary turned to writing screenplays for a few years. A couple of Hollywood options led to nothing, and the notes from producers, while sometimes spot-on, were also sometimes way out in left field (if they were even in the ballpark). Gary returned to novel writing with Modern Sorcery. You can visit him online, and sign up for his mailing list on his rarely updated blog.

  Books by Gary Jonas

  The Jonathan Shade series:

  Modern Sorcery

  Acheron Highway

  Dragon Gate

  Anubis Nights

  Sunset Specters

  Wizard’s Nocturne

  Razor Dreams

  The UFO Conspiracy Files series:

  Guardians of the Sky

  Rogue Alien (coming soon)

  Stand-alone novels:

  One-Way Ticket to Midnight

  Pirates of the Outrigger Rift (w/Bill D. Allen)

  Novella:

  Night Marshal: A Tale of the Undead West

  also available in Night Marshal Box Set (the first three Night Marshal tales in one bundle--includes Night Marshal by Gary Jonas, High Plains Moon by Glenn R. Sixbury, and This Dance, These Bones by Rebecca Hodgkins). The set kicks ass.

  Collection:

  Quick Shots

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