Magical Storm: Vegas Paranormal / Club 66, #4

By C. C. Mahon

When raw magic threatens to drown Las Vegas and its people, Erica and her friends risk everything to save the city.

But in the face of unleashed elements, uncontrolled supernaturals, and betrayals, good intentions won't be enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allure Editions
• Release date: Jun 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9791095394389

Book preview

1

Standing in the middle of my loft, I contemplated the sky through the glass roof. It was late afternoon in early June. The sky should have been dazzling blue. Instead, heavy black clouds concealed the very existence of the sun. The loft, too, was shrouded in darkness because of yet another power outage. The power grid had been capricious in recent days, and it often left us in the dark for hours on end.

However, Vegas did not lack electricity; lightning tore through the city’s atmosphere as it had been doing for the past three days. Three days and three nights of magnetic and magical storms. Three days and three nights of torrential rains and supernatural events that were increasingly difficult to hide from the seven hundred thousand humans who inhabited the city. The streets were furious torrents into which cars no longer ventured, perhaps because motors and especially on-board electronics were particularly affected by the magnetic storm. So were phones and modern technology in general.

As the city slowly drowned, my club looked like Noah’s Ark. Witches, mediums, and supernaturals of all kinds had come to take refuge behind the protection spells of my establishment. Because outside, the elements were not the main threat.

Several rivers of raw magic met under Las Vegas. Called ley lines, they were the magical equivalent of very high voltage lines. They flowed hundreds of yards below the city but were so powerful that all supernaturals felt the magic they emitted. That’s why there were so many of them—"so many of us"—in Las Vegas. The ley lines attracted us as honey attracted bees.

Unfortunately, a fool of my acquaintance had decided that the magic naturally seeping to the surface of Vegas was not enough for him. He would draw directly from one of the ley lines.

Things had not gone exactly as he had hoped. His installation had exploded, destabilizing the ley line in which he had drilled. Then the magic network tried to compensate, as my friend Britannicus had tried to explain. What I understood was that the functioning of the ley lines remained unknown even to the best sorcerers and that all explanations were highly theoretical—speculation at most.

Anyway, the result was there: a second explosion had volatilized the first crater, releasing an astonishing mass of energy. A geyser of raw magic gushed out in the middle of the city and just kept going. The light column lit up the sky of Las Vegas like an air defense spotlight.

In response, Customs—the administration responsible for maintaining the balance of magical flows in Vegas—had triggered its emergency plan. A colossal dome covering Las Vegas and the surrounding area now prevented this energy from spreading. The purpose of this dome was to prevent magic from contaminating the rest of the country. But in the city, it had a worrying side effect: the level of ambient magic had skyrocketed. And since the dome prevented any magic from passing through, no supernatural person could leave the city—or enter it, for that matter.

Everyone reacted in their own way. Gertrude, my waitress, took the opportunity to have an impressive growth spurt. I heard that’s normal for trolls. For other creatures, more magic meant more instincts to contain, like Nate, who had trouble controlling his grizzly nature. Or like Matteo, my once vegan vampire cook, who had lost control of his appetite. He’d almost killed Lola, his girlfriend. Then he’d run away, and I hadn’t heard from him since. As for me, my teeth were grinding, and I was getting static electricity discharges in my wings. I didn’t know if this was normal for Valkyries—I hadn’t been one for a very long time. And since I was the only one in town, I had few opportunities to talk shop and feather care with my colleagues.

According to rumors, packs of feasting ghouls were roaming cemeteries, and raging succubi patrolled casino corridors. Truth be told, the rumor mill was out of control. But I was too busy managing my club to check what was going on in the casinos. And I wasn’t too motivated to go, alone and in the pouring rain, maintain order in the Las Vegas cemeteries. Ghouls were unpleasant individuals, with more teeth than necessary, and jackal breath. As long as they limited their appetite to cemeteries, I thought we were lucky. If they got bold and attacked the living, things could quickly get out of hand. This was one of the fears of the most vulnerable members of the supernatural community—those who had no fangs and no granite skin to protect themselves. Those who continued to flock to the door of my club night after stormy night.

Of course, ordinary humans were in danger, too. But they didn’t know that. The sacrosanct rule of the Great Secret forbade us to reveal the existence of the supernatural world to ordinary humans. Until recently, I thought it was a good idea. Humans tended to destroy what they didn’t understand, and even without magical powers, they were capable of causing a lot of damage. But since the magic had been unleashed in the city, I couldn’t help but worry about the average citizen. They could see the magnetic storm and its effects on technology, but not the magic geyser. And they had no idea of the appetites of some of their neighbors.

I abandoned my dark loft and my dark thoughts. It would soon be time to open the club, and I had work to do before I could welcome the customers.

On the ground floor, the atmosphere was almost as electric as it was outside. The place had never been designed to accommodate refugees. Originally, it was a hangar with a dirt floor and reinforced sheet metal walls. When I had the basement dug to bury my nightclub, I didn’t see the point of converting the ground floor. The vast space usually housed nothing more than my faithful Italian motorcycle.

About ten camp beds were now added, grouped into small groups according to the affinities of their occupants. The sun was about to set, and my guests were getting restless. Some followed me with their eyes as I crossed the makeshift camp to get down to the bar room. Some of them smiled or nodded at me. No one said a word. I could almost taste the tension between the individuals. No one liked to leave home and take refuge in a hangar. Nor did anyone want to live in terror, wondering what monster would attack them next.

I was already descending the stairs to the bar when I heard the hangar door creaking. It was still too early to open the club. I turned around and wondered who was motivated enough to go out in this weather. But no one was going out. A dripping mass of rain was standing on the threshold, a travel bag in each hand. She wore a scarf over her head, and her eyes were hidden behind wide, dark glasses.

Eupraxie? I said. You’re early.

Eupraxie, gorgon by birth and bouncer by trade, dropped her bags on the ground and closed the door with a sharp gesture.

I claim asylum! she declared theatrically.

I went back up the steps. Eupraxie had refused to stay at the club until then. She had explained how she absolutely needed a bathroom worthy of the name—not to mention her dressing room. In any case, no one, magically overloaded or not, would dare attack her. I had no doubt about that last point. If the snakes hiding under her scarf were not enough to discourage potential aggressors, Eupraxie only had to remove her dark glasses to transform the unwise into stone. The only thing that could frighten her was probably breaking a nail.

I joined the gorgon to ask, in a low voice, Is everything all right?

She sighed, irritated, and crossed her arms. My bathroom is flooded. Waste flows up through the pipes. I don’t even want to talk about it. I hope your plumbing is better than mine.

Uh…me, too, I confessed.

The situation was already tense enough without our toilets betraying us. I remembered that the Sorcerer’s Guild had put a spell to prevent the Lake Mead sirens from entering the club through the pipes. Because of course, in Las Vegas, you also had to worry about lake mermaid incursions. At least that’s what the sorcerers claimed when they wanted to sell you a security system.

Excellent! said the gorgon. Where can I put my things?

2

While Eupraxie was setting up as she could, I went down to prepare the club for the opening. Johnny, my bartender, had preceded me. He had not needed to be asked twice to move to the hangar. Johnny had no magical power to defend himself and depended on his bike to come to work. After a memorable journey during which he had almost been sucked into a sewer drain, he took his peacock blue suits and toothbrush and settled among the first of my refugees.

Good evening, boss! Johnny said from the counter.

How are our toilets? I replied.

Eupraxie’s misadventure had made me rethink my priorities.

Johnny didn’t seem to take offense at my repartee. Tolerable, he said, given the circumstances. On the other hand, we’re going to run out of whiskey, vodka, and gin. Not to mention lemons and other fresh products. Is it still raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock?

Cow’s still pissing! confirmed a voice behind me.

Barbie shook her large red wings, projecting water droplets all around her.

And I got my feathers toasted along the way, she added.

Lightning? I asked.

Yep! Not a good day to go flying. Any news from Nate and Matteo?

None, I said. I guess Nate found himself a patch of desert where he could let his grizzly bear express himself, and Matteo went back to his father’s house. If your commute becomes too dangerous, remember that my offer still stands: you can stay here until things calm down.

If they ever calmed down.

Barbie shook her head. I can’t smoke here, and in this weather, I can’t smoke outside. At least in my apartment, I can smoke as much as I want.

Didn’t you stop? Johnny questioned.

Barbie shrugged her shoulders. The sky fell on our heads, and the club turned into the Raft of the Medusa. I decided it wasn’t the right week to quit smoking.

Johnny welcomed the argument with an appreciative nod. I used to smoke, too. But the thing about turning into a bird is that you can’t handle the lighter anymore. So I had seventy years of detox. I don’t think I’m going to take it up again. It would be a shame to ruin everything now.

Johnny had once been transformed into a peacock by a magician. From that time, he had kept some tics and a solid philosophy of life.

Barbie began to prepare the room for our customers. Because we couldn’t count on the electrical grid, we had candles and oil lamps on the table. The Fire Safety Commission would have screamed their head off if they could have seen my club, crowded and lit by dozens of open flames. But in recent days, the commissions and regulations had been replaced by creativity. And then there was always the Sorcerer’s Guild fire spell. I had already tested it in my loft, and I could testify to its effectiveness.

I left Barbie and Johnny working in the dining room and went into the kitchen.

Since Matteo had left for an indefinite period, I had to recruit another cook at short notice. As a matter of fact, the cook volunteered. Vera Applebaum had hired herself. Three nights earlier, I had discovered her in the club kitchen, baking omelets and Tatin pies for my customers. No one had complained about the result, so Vera stayed.

Vera Applebaum was a middle-aged woman with short grey hair. Since taking refuge at the club, she had abandoned her high school principal skirt suit in favor of borrowed clothes: wide jeans and old blouses, covered by an apron. She did not seem to regret this change.

Good evening, Miss St. Gilles!

Call me Erica, I said. How are your scales?

Vera looked down at her forearm. She rolled up the sleeve of her blouse and showed me the plate of golden scales that were gradually replacing the skin of her arm. It itches, but I hear that’s normal.

Do you know what you’re becoming?

A dragon.

Oh, really?

Gertrude’s friends seem confident. Did you know we have a small dragon community in Las Vegas? And that they can take on a human appearance? It is simply incredible. After thirty years of teaching in this city, I continue to learn every day…

Vera had discovered the existence of the supernatural world all of a sudden, one week ago, when one of her students tried to sacrifice her during a necromancy ritual. A few hours later, she noticed the appearance of her first scales. She seemed to accept the change with worrying enthusiasm. I expected her to collapse into nervous sobs at any moment, but she was surprisingly resilient. All these years spent managing hundreds of teenagers had obviously prepared her for the worst.

I left Vera, her talkative enthusiasm, and the kitchen to return to the main room. Barbie had done an excellent job: the chairs were in place, the tables were clean, and the saltshakers were full.

Ready to serve! Johnny shouted in a cheerful tone.

Bring in the hungry hordes, Barbie added.

I went back up to the ground floor. Breakfast! I announced.

Eupraxie asked, Can I have a coffee before I open the doors? With all this, I left on an empty stomach.

The club doors would not open until half an hour later, and Eupraxie had plenty of time to eat before that. I was counting on her to maintain order in a crowd of worried supernaturals overloaded with magic. For that, the gorgon would need all of her energy.

3

Half an hour after the club opened, Eupraxie called me. I joined her on the ground floor near the door that was open to the night and the rain. The gorgon was standing with a woman I had never seen before. She must have been in her thirties—it was hard to be precise. Her expression, a mixture of fear and despair, distorted her features. She had long brown hair soaked by the rain, and she shivered, her arms clenched around her as if to warm herself up. As I approached, I noticed that she smelled like a wet dog.

Boss, said Eupraxie, this is Tina. She says she needs help.

Tina turned to me, and her eyes widened.

In my club, at night, I didn’t bother to hide my Valkyrie wings. Obviously, Tina had never met any winged humanoids before. What was she doing here?

I…um…guess I’m in the right place, stuttered Tina.

What brings you here?

I…he…I’ve been…

Tina is a new shapeshifter, Eupraxie explained.

The gorgon moved away from us to greet some regulars, and I turned back to Tina.

Shapeshifter? I asked. What species?

I don’t know! exclaimed Tina. That was the first sentence she said without hesitating. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t understand anything!

She smelled like a wet dog, so I took a chance. Coyote, maybe?

People turn into coyotes?

We have a whole pack of them in town. I mean, right now, they’re in the desert.

Why?

Too much magic in the air makes shapeshifters nervous. Max—he is the head of the coyotes—preferred to take his group camping away from civilization.

This Max, could he help me? Can you call him?

I shook my head. As I just said, Max and the others are standing aside right now. But Liam should be coming by soon.

Another coyote?

A lion. Don’t worry, he keeps good control over his internal cat. He decided to train the new shapeshifters and comes every night to check in with the community.

The new shapeshifters? repeated Tina. The community?

Did you think you were the only one?

Tina blushed and nodded.

There are several thousand supernaturals in Las Vegas, I said. And with this magical leak, new ones are created every day.

What leak? she asked.

I think you need a drink and a long conversation. Come with me, please.

Are you going to help me?

Of course.

Why?

I turned around. Tina stared at me with a mixture of hope and mistrust in her eyes.

If there is anything I can do, I said, why would I stand by and do nothing?

The evening was well underway, and the club was packed. The place smelled of candle, wet dog, and a myriad of magic, ranging from overripe orange to burnt rubber. The mixture made my head spin. In a corner, Tina and Liam were immersed in conversation.

Barbie came to me, a frown on her face. Boss, it’s Lola. She’s in trouble.

I turned towards the entrance of