Free Stone and a Hard Place by R. L. King Page A

Let me drop you off at your place so you can get some rest, and we’ll get back to it tomorrow if you’re feeling up to it.”
    “Sounds good.”
    Stone glanced sideways at him, but didn’t reply.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    The walls in the attic of the abandoned house that The Three used as their ritual space were painted black, dotted here and there with magical sigils spray-painted like graffiti. They had long since cleared the uneven wooden floor of debris and moved in the larger gear they needed for their activities. They didn’t worry about anyone getting in and disturbing it. Not only had they gone to the significant extra effort of weaving spells and wards around the place that prevented anyone but the most persistent fellow mage from finding it, but if anyone had managed to break in, the enchantments would trap them in place until such time as The Three could make use of them. It was kind of like a bonus.
    It was three a.m. on a rainy night. The door flew open and Oliver entered first, dripping, carrying a smaller box stacked on top of a larger one. Miguel came in behind him bearing a pizza box. Trin, of course, carried nothing. She never did.
    Oliver set the smaller box down and pulled out various bottles of liquor, a baggie of pot, and some rolling papers, setting them down on a nearby table. The larger box he placed in the middle of the floor. The three of them chattered on about their evening at a particularly good party, performing their jobs without needing to discuss them.
    For a while they just talked, eating pizza, passing a joint around, and downing shots of the liquor. Finally at about three-thirty, Trin pulled something from her pocket. “Okay. Ready to send that bitch a little fun?” She waved the lipsticked napkin that Angelique had given Oliver back at Will to Power.
    Miguel grinned. “What do you have planned?”
    “We could make all her hair fall out,” Oliver suggested.
    Trin glared at him. “The problem with you, Oliver, is that you don’t think big enough.”
    He frowned. “You’re not gonna kill her just for being a skank, are you?” He appeared mostly unfazed by the idea, as if he were merely bringing up another suggestion.
    “Oh, no. I thought maybe we could set her house on fire or something. Or blow up her car, if she’s got one.”
    “Nice,” Miguel said, nodding. “Or maybe give her an uncontrollable case of the shits. Less conspicuous, but a lot more embarrassing.”
    “Hmm...” Trin considered that. “Not a bad idea, but a little juvenile. And the fire’s going to be tough in this rain. I’ve got it: let’s flood her out. She’d better hope she can use those implants as flotation devices.”
    The other two recognized the finality in her tone, and didn’t bother suggesting anything else. Oliver picked up the large box and began passing out various pieces of ritual material, and The Three set to work customizing the magic circle they’d painted on the floor. As before, they moved as a single entity and without words, each one knowing his or her role in the ritual so well that they didn’t need to consult.
    When the circle was complete, the candles were lit, and the foul-smelling incense was burning in the brazier in the center, Trin flipped on a small radio in the corner. An eerie instrumental metal tune wafted over the attic, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to disturb them. She nodded to the others, and each stepped to their appointed place inside the circle.
    Oliver pulled a small knife from his pocket and waved it over the brazier, then used it to make small nicks in both of his palms. He handed it to Miguel, who did the same thing and gave it to Trin. Nicking her own palms, she set it aside and the three of them clasped hands around the circle. They could each feel the magic already forming, a low current of energy passing between and around them. They had hunted well tonight at the party, drawing energy from many of its guests—including one man Miguel