Free Summoned Chaos by Joshua Roots Page B

enormous relic from the 80s out of his gym bag.
    “Go for Steve,” he said, holding the phone to his ear. He grunted, then hung up.
    “Your old man wants me to check out some security upgrades to the Homestead. Care to join?”
    After having his place torched by me, then allowing me to drag him into a Charlie Foxtrot of a war at my folks’ house, Steve had gone to work for Dad on his security detail.
    Apparently dealing with drunken patrons every night had been perfect training for the job.
    In the months since, he’d been happily rebuilding his life at my family’s mansion while meeting with me twice a week to help me improve my close-combat skills.
    Or simply kick my butt, as he had so easily done.
    I shook my head. “Nah, I need to run a few errands. How about a beer later?”
    “If it’s The Olde Irish Inn and you’re buying, then absolutely.”
    I gave him a thumbs-up. “It’s a date.”
    “See?” Steve said, pointing a massive finger back and forth between us. “Communication.”
    * * *
     
    The drive home from the gym took longer than usual thanks to a handful of idiots making drastic lane changes or forgetting that “red” meant “maybe you don’t go no more.” Normally I didn’t mind the morons behind the wheel, but the lingering aches and pains from the night before coupled with the new ones provided by Steve were making me impatient.
    To calm myself, I rolled down the windows, then cranked some Huey Lewis tunes as loud as I could. A woman in a red convertible next to me glared as I belted out some awesome notes, but I simply waved.
    By the time I reached my neighborhood in Reston, I was feeling a lot better. Turning the corner toward my townhouse, however, the small grin that had crept onto my face faded. A large van blocked the visitor parking spots and as I keyed my garage door, and a pair of heads popped out from around the vehicle. I parked the Ghost as two bright-eyed twenty-somethings walked up my driveway.
    “Well, if it isn’t the Wonder Twins,” I said, easing out of the Ghost. “Royals of the Internet Gossip World.”
    The girl beamed, her hazel eyes crinkling with amusement. “Well, if it isn’t Marcus Shifter. Master of the Magical Arts.”
    I snorted. “Hardly.”
    Tessa Gibbs was short and attractive with blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail. A long feather was weaved into the strands. She and her partner, a kid named Mike Yu who had sunken eyes and a nervous cough, were a pair of Normals who ran a small blog that focused on the Skilled. They and their followers were obsessed with the Skilled society and published regular articles about our world, paranormal oddities and any other bit of magical pop-culture.
    I’d met them completely by accident five months earlier after a particularly nasty incident with a rift. This one had popped up near a bar in D.C. The team and I had our hands full keeping bystanders from getting too close and by the time we had shut the unnatural window, we were all exhausted. Tessa and Mike witnessed the whole thing and offered to buy me a beer. My “interview” appeared on their blog the next day, much to the chagrin of the Council.
    We’d been friends and cohorts ever since.
    But as much as I liked them, they rarely showed up on my doorstep. I had a sinking feeling I already knew where this was headed.
    “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
    “Don’t play dumb,” Tessa said.
    Crap. “Listen, if you want to talk about cars, beekeeping or why I don’t like zombies, I’m game. Anything else and it’s ‘no comment.’”
    “Oh come on.” Tessa groaned. “You have to give us something. You’re a hero. If we can be the first to interview you, it’ll really help the hits on our site!”
    I turned to her in surprise. “Wait, what? A hero?”
    “Absolutely! You saved the life of Ambassador Jones. People are clamoring to talk to you. If we can be the ones to break the story,