Alchemist Rules Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Llaughing Llama Media, LLC

  Dedication and Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

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  ALCHEMIST RULES

  MH BONHAM

  Llaughing Llama Media, LLC

  © 2019 by M. H. Bonham.

  Published by Llaughing Llama Media, LLC.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

  Cover by M.H. Bonham.

  Printed in the United States of America

  9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Dedication and Acknowledgments

  For Larry

  Special thanks to Gary Jonas and Kate Steenberg

  My cheerleaders and Beta critics

  Chapter One

  Supernaturals tend to go crazy on Mondays, and today was no exception. My partner, Officer Jim Douglas, just pulled our car into a typical Denver strip mall off Broadway and Evans and the fairies were out in force today. The little creatures were buzzing like mad hornets all along the sidewalks, causing what supernatural mayhem packs of six-inch-tall little people can do.

  Normally, we wouldn’t bother to be here, but it was 10 p.m., which meant a visit to the local doughnut shop before they closed up. Yeah, laugh all you want, my partner is a stereotypical cop right down to the doughnuts. He had to have his sugar buzz, which meant fat bombs. It also meant I had to put up with his attitude since he was my fifth partner in four weeks. Right now, it was looking like he’d last the fifth week.

  Even though it was a pleasant night for early April, the air was thick with smog and I decided to keep the windows up in the patrol car and avoid getting lung cancer. I’d run the air conditioner too, but it wasn’t that warm.

  Instead, I picked up my book, Alchemy Magic for Beginners and leafed through the first pages until I found where I had put the book down last. The store front was so lit up, I could read the pages without the map light.

  “Hey Cabbage,” Douglas jeered when he slammed the door, and swatted a Peter Pan looking creature away from his pocket protector. “Should I get you some doughnuts with sprinkles on them?”

  “Ouch!” the fairy squeaked, flitting away.

  I glared at Douglas. “It’s Bob. Bob Ironspell-Cabas.”

  “Yeah, whatever, Cabbage.”

  “Keep eating those doughnuts and they’ll be changing your name from Officer Jimmy Douglas to Officer Jimmy Dean in no time.” I added pig noises for dramatic effect.

  Douglas, in his incredibly professional manner, flipped me off as he entered the doughnut shop. I thought about trying the new hex spell I read about in Alchemy Magic for Beginners, but instead flipped open my magazine of Alchemy Magic Today. Yeah, what can I say? The radio crackled as I perused the new spell of changing water into ice as a party trick.

  “DPDS Car 51.”

  I picked up the mic. “This is DPDS Car 51. Ironspell here.”

  “Ironspell? You still in the vicinity of Washington Park?”

  “Affirmative,” I said, trying to sound official.

  “We got a supernatural disturbance in Washington Park. Do you copy?”

  “Roger that. We’ll investigate.” I sighed and looked over at Douglas who was still at the counter trying to decide what fat bombs to buy. I tossed the magazine in the glove compartment and got out of our police cruiser. I then warded it locked. Specially made for those in the Denver Police Department Supernatural Unit, or DPDS, the car originally had been a Dodge Charger. The wards glowed and screamed to anyone with half a brain to not even think about opening it.

  I ducked to avoid two fairies that nearly collided with me. Obviously lit from a sugar high. Both wore green Peter Pan type outfits—the latest rage among the current Supernatural little folk—and both were tugging on what was left of a frosted doughnut.

  “Gimme that!” One shouted in a sharp little voice which promised to piece my eardrums.

  “Mine! Mine! Mine!” The other shouted with a voice that could put nails on a chalkboard to shame. They tugged at the doughnut jerking back and forth while their wings were beating blindingly fast.

  Some cops would’ve arrested them for disorderly conduct, but I couldn’t see being the big bully here. They weren’t driving, and they weren’t hurting anyone, no matter how annoying they might be. Once they sobered up, they’d be hit with the mother of all hangovers. Unless they started punching each other, it was just a typical night in fairyland. I walked into the doughnut shop, blindingly lit up to screw with my night vision. Douglas stood at the counter as the kid was ringing up the doughnuts.

  “Can you do something about the bugs?” the kid waved at the fairies outside.

  “Why, are they bothering you?” I asked.

  “Yeah, they steal from the trash.”

  “Maybe we’ll swat them,” Douglas said, pulling out his card to pay.

  “We got other problems,” I said. “Dispatch came on.”

  “Well, fuck.” Douglas picked up the bag of doughnuts and a coffee. I noted he didn’t bother to get me a coffee.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “What?” Douglas snapped, as we walked out the door.

  “You owe me like…twenty cups,” I said, not bothering to hide my irritation as he walked to the driver’s side.

  “Put it on my bill.” He shoved the bag of doughnuts into my hands and put the key in the door lock. It gave him a good zap. “Jesus fucking Christ, Cabbage! Do you have to do that? Most people settle on door locks, you know.”

  “Oops,” I said, not feeling sorry. “You know it’s standard procedure.” I touched the car and the wards flashed, effectively neutralized. “Go ahead now.”

  Douglas unlocked the car and climbed into the driver’s side. He reached for the doughnut bag, but I skittered out of reach. “Hey!” he said.

  “Put it on my bill,” I said and whistled. “Hey guys! Want some doughnuts?” I shouted to the fairies.

  Like moths to a flame, the little miscreants came out of hiding. Given how busy the intersection of Broadway and Evans was, I couldn’t believe how many appeared out of nowhere. Soon, I was surrounded by a swarm of hungry, buzzing fairies.

  “Hey guys!” I shouted over the noise. “Quit harassing the customers around here, and I’ll give you free doughnuts on Mondays, okay?” I tossed the bag in the air. It never hit the ground.

  One of the fairies flitted in front of my nose. “Is that a promise?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’ll bring you some doughnuts.”

  “Hurrah!”

  “Deal?” I asked.

  “Deal!” They all shouted in their diminutive voices. They whirled around in the air, clinging to the doughnut bag like an angry bee swarm and disappear
ed into the night.

  I got into the car. Douglas was on the radio. “10-4, we’ll be right there.” He glared at me. “You owe me for those doughnuts, Cabbage.”

  “You owe me for the coffee. Consider that paid up.”

  He shot me a look and started the car. Tonight was going to be fun, I could just tell.

  Chapter Two

  Washington Park looked like a war zone. As part of the University District of Denver, Colorado, it had just enough trees and ponds to make it pleasant for Normals to go jogging or walking their dog. Before the Supernaturals came out of hiding, you had your regular drug traffickers and occasional criminals. You didn’t hang out there at night, even with the street and pathway lights. Now, with the Supernaturals, people were careful in the daytime and avoided it altogether at night. More than once, I’ve seen selkies and water horses in Grasmere Lake hunting the ducks, and the occasional roving bands of Orcs, but they seldom did more than scare the locals. And then, of course, the fairies were an ever present nuisance. Many Normals avoided the park now, but those few brave souls were often rewarded with a mostly unmolested experience.

  Now, from what I could see under the few lights standing and the gibbous moon rising, the graded paths around Grasmere Lake had giant holes torn in them. Something had uprooted the trees as though shells exploded there. Whatever it was ripped out the bridges along the City Ditch, the old irrigation canals people used to use to bring water in for their crops.

  I looked over the devastation and felt the itch of dark magic in the area. Douglas got on the radio and called for backup but I wasn’t sure what they could do other than piss off whatever it was out there. I closed my eyes and stretched my senses to see if I could figure out what caused it.

  Despite the name, Ironspell-Cabas, I’m not a wizard or a mage. At least not yet. My mom told me long ago that my father’s clan, the Ironspells, were a powerful wizarding family that fell on hard times. My mom claims she’s only a hedge witch with enough power to read Tarot cards or maybe make a third class love potion. Me? I’m just a cop with some magic sense and an ability to do basic spells; no more powerful than simple ward runes and maybe a hex or two. Hell, even Normals could probably conjure up the spells I can do, if they practiced. That’s why I applied to the Alchemy department at the University, so I could join the Denver Police elite Wizard Task Force. Once I got my license, I could ditch Jimmy Dean here.

  Right now, I was at best a cop with just a few spells and a feel for magic. But one thing I did have was the uncanny ability to sense trouble—and somehow get into it head first.

  “C’mon Cabbage, quit snoozing and let’s take a look around.” Douglas got out of the car. I tried to ignore him as my magical senses stretched across the park. I had learned long ago you didn’t want to go blazing in with guns drawn on something Supernatural, until you knew what that something was. I tried to get a good sense of what exactly was making my black magic gauge peg the meter. “Cabbage?”

  “Hang on, this is serious,” I said, still keeping my eyes closed. God, it was hard to concentrate with a buffoon of an officer breathing down your neck. My partner moved off a few paces, giving me the physical—and mental—space I needed to concentrate. I then felt what they were.

  Shit.

  “Trolls, Douglas!” I opened the door and tumbled out of the car, still unsteady from the magic. Looking ahead, I could see Douglas twenty yards away with his hand on his weapon—still undrawn—walking right toward the ambush. His flashlight was on. “Jim! It’s a troll!”

  If Jim heard me, he didn’t react. He kept walking. “Jim!” I shouted, but my voice was dampened as if a thick blanket got dropped over us. Oh hell, this was serious. Somebody actually set up a dampening spell. I was about to draw my Glock 9mm, when I decided that what I really needed was the Remington 870 shotgun. I dove back in the car and unlocked the shotgun, chambered a round, and ran after Douglas into the dark.

  I hadn’t gotten ten paces when I heard the troll roar and Douglas screaming. Then, a rapid succession of shots as my partner emptied the magazine. As I predicted, shooting it would just make it mad. I saw nothing but darkness, so I cast a quick mage light orb and tossed it toward the thing that blotted out the stars.

  I wish I hadn’t.

  Above me, some fifty yards away stood a troll—and a big one. If trolls had ugly contests, this one would’ve swept up all the awards. Its long, tangled hair and beard, glowing red eyes, and sharp tusks that protruded out of its lips made for a ghastly ensemble. It wore some kind hairy skins that hung in tatters off of its humongous frame. Apparently it bought its clothes off the rack. I guessed it was maybe fifteen feet tall, give or take a few feet. It held my partner in its clawed fingers. Douglas’s head lolled to one side as the creature shook him.

  I couldn’t think what to do at this point. Most weapons are useless against trolls—first year DPDS training taught us to call in a magic user rather than to try to take one down—but they never mentioned what you needed to do if the troll had your partner in its paw. Okay, Douglas was an asshole partner who didn’t follow procedure, but I didn’t think he deserved to be on the troll’s dinner menu. Trolls were impervious to some magic spells, making them a challenge even for wizards. Magic shields and fireballs are pretty useless on them. The shotgun might work at a close enough range, but with Douglas flapping about in its mitts, I was damned if I was going to shoot my partner accidentally.

  I keyed the mic on my personal radio and found it dead. Damn, whoever cast that dampening spell made sure it’d take out the electronics. So, I did the only thing I could do.

  I opened my mouth.

  “Hey Ugly!” I shouted, running toward the troll, waving my hands. “You don’t want him. He tastes really crappy.” I threw some more mage lights at the troll for general principle.

  The troll dropped Douglas, seeing a new quarry and started lumbering toward me. Apparently carrying something and chasing something taxed the two brain cells it had. But now I had an angry troll coming right at me. I pointed the shotgun at him and fired. I racked and shot until I emptied the shotgun and then ran like hell, just barely evading the troll’s claws as it tried to grab me.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I panted with each footfall; my lungs burning with the Denver brown cloud. What in the hell was I thinking? Trolls were tough and this one looked about as tough as they came. I still had my sidearm, but seeing how ineffectual the shotgun and Douglas’s rounds were, I really didn’t think I had a chance. I pulled the inhaler out of my pocket as I felt my chest tighten. The asthma I suffered from was mild enough to not get me washed out of Police Academy, but I still had the inhaler for the really bad days. This apparently qualified.

  I twisted and made another mage light orb and sent it skipping across the lake. I really didn’t expect the troll would be that stupid to fall for it, but I was willing to give it a shot. To my surprise, the troll hesitated and then stomped into Grasmere Lake, sending up columns of water with each step.

  I stopped in surprise, but realized I had bought myself time. Crap, I was almost back at the police cruiser, when I remembered the latest issue of Alchemy Magic Today in the glove compartment. Yeah, I know, not exactly my best plan. I unwarded and unlocked the car and pulled the issue out. Casting a small mage light, I thumbed through the pages looking for the spell.

  A roar drew my attention. Damn, the troll was coming back. Just as I thought the troll was far enough away, it loomed over the cop car. I opened the door and bailed out none too soon as the creature lifted the car and tossed it end over end down the street. I ran toward the lake, the mage light bouncing along merrily, keeping up with me as I continued to flip through the pages.

  There it was—the spell for making ice.

  It’s spring in Colorado and I’m trying to do an ice trick that’s meant for parties? I read through the focus words twice—or about as well as one can do running—and then ran to the edge of the lake as the troll came stomping into the water to make a beel
ine, or in this case, troll-line, toward me.

  “Frigidam aquam illam!” I shouted and touched the water with my hand.

  Nothing. The troll reached for me. I leapt to the side and ended up tripping over a root and splashing into the water. Did I say the right words? The magazine was drenched but still in my hand. I shook the water off it, conjured another light spell, and…

  The troll grabbed me. He shook me and the magazine flapped into his face. I grabbed it again and this time saw the word I should have said.

  “Frigidam aquam illam glaciem!”

  Suddenly a gust of wind picked up as our clothing, the water on my skin, the lake, and everything that was wet suddenly turned to ice. It had gone from a nice cool night to a friggin’ freezing night in one second and the troll screamed as it found its legs up to its waist locked in ice.

  Solid ice.

  It dropped me and I skittered across the ice better than a Colorado Avalanche’s hockey puck. I shook violently from the cold.

  The troll tried to move, but the ice held firm. I stared as I got up, my body protesting as I did so. I didn’t know what to do now. The ice would hold the troll only for a short while before the spring temperatures took over and melted Grasmere into a lake again. I conjured another mage light and flipped through the frozen pages of Alchemy Magic Today as the troll roared and struggled. I could hear sirens—the cavalry Douglas called for—in the distance.

  I looked back at my magazine. Some of the pages were stuck together. One of the pages promised five magical foods. Another offered how to enchant your love interest. Another was about the history behind the Philosopher’s Stone. I kept leafing through the pages while the troll bellowed and dug its claws into the ice, trying to free itself.

  I ran across the Five Party Tricks to Wow Your Friends and almost dismissed it until I spied a simple shrinking and transporting spell. Apparently it was to combine the two to annoy your friend when you shrank his car and transported it into your house at a party. The good news was that the size reduction was temporary. Lasted about an hour.