10:52 AM September 13th 2026
Industrial Park District Near the Port of New York
Inside the back of the Mountain King Movers truck, four security guards uniformed in armor and covered with weapons huddled uncomfortably around a locked steel crate. They looked like a typical group of Hollywood-ugly heroes from an action movie who were about to launch a four-man war against the Bad Guy. In reality, they were…maybe not the Bad Guys, but they definitely weren’t Good Guys either.
They were guarding the locked steel crate and a man in a lab coat. None of the guards liked the balding, middle-aged, arrogant asshole who pretended to be cocky and confident, but who clutched his briefcase too tightly to his chest to be anything other than terrified. His nervous habit of pushing his spectacles up his nose gave him away further. He’d push them up even when they did not need to be, then had to adjust them back down to see properly.
When they felt their vehicle’s speed increase, the four guards glanced at each other with only mild interest. One raised an eyebrow and another shrugged back at him. When they were jostled to almost fall over as the truck swerved to miss the semi, that’s when the lead guard became concerned. He frowned and grabbed the radio clipped to his uniform chest.
“Check in.” His voice was steely, calm. Then the vehicle swerved again, zigzagging through traffic wildly. “Hey, I said check in.” There was no answer. The radio clicked. It whined. The radios of each of the guards began to whine, a low buzzing at first that ran steadily up through the octaves.
“Shit!” One of them exclaimed, unclipping his radio and staring at it horrified.
“High-level magical interference. Radios off. Eject the batteries before they blow.” Their leader was still calm, but his voice had an edge to it. “Don’t worry. The truck is hardened against magical activity so we’ll keep moving and the collector will maintain ambient magic below toxic levels.” He’d been removing the battery from his radio as he spoke, and his subordinates followed suit. “Just be ready. There’s something out there.”
10:52 AM September 13th 2026
Radio Empire Concert Hall New York, NY
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Deveraux finished his set to so many cheers. The crowds were screaming. He couldn’t see them really, just a seething mass of bodies in the dark, his eyes blinded by the stage lights. He didn’t care.
His heart was pumping, racing so fast. It was so gratifying. So, exhilarating. Sooo intoxicating. He could sense the emotions riding high and he’d been able to use his magic to accentuate it with the tones and rhythms of the songs he had played. They were ready for the main act. But the main act was probably not going to be ready for them.
There were a few more openers before the band was scheduled. Maybe they had time to get themselves unhexed before the show was on.
“Thank you, New York.” Deveraux grabbed the bottle of water a stagehand had set aside for him. He took a long gulping drink letting some of it run down his throat and front. Making magic was hard work and he was dripping with sweat, but this was part of his act...and some of the ladies, and lads, loved it. The water made his tight shirt stick to him and transparent where it was wet.
Then he grabbed the single red rose laying on the same side table where the water had been. He swaggered jauntily to the front of the stage and tossed the rose as far out into the audience as he could. Deveraux didn’t wait to see where it landed. He swiftly exited the stage as the screaming fans surged to even greater excitement. Overhead the announcer’s voice gave him an outro.
“That was DJ Deveraux. He makes music that the heart always knows.” There was a suggestively lewd lilt to the announcer’s voice but that was show biz. Sex sold. And Deveraux was sexy, if he did think so himself. At least, his fans told him he was sexy. “Now where is the lucky audience member who caught that rose. What’s that? You’re sharing it with your friend? Well, congratulations ladies. You have just won yourselves a backstage pass to meet Maiden’s Voyage after the show tonight. Say, thank you, to DJ Deveraux.”
Even more wild screaming followed the DJ, and he smiled broadly all the way back to his dressing room. He continued smiling until he saw the missed call from his wife. By the end of the voice mail, Deveraux was frowning with disappointment.
Now his plans for rubbing elbows at the afterparty and spreading his name for more gigs was going up in smoke. Or maybe that should be frost, considering it was his icy frost queen of a daughter who had messed things up. No. That wasn’t fair. She’d been complaining about that bully for a long time. It was bound to happen if the school didn’t take action.
This just...
It wasn’t fair. None of his other kids had ever.... No. That wasn’t true. Samantha..., Samantha was a statistical outlier and while she’d never started fights, she made sure she finished them. In a way that prevented the loser from ever wanting to fight her again.
What had Kyle called her? Oh yes. The Prodigy of Pain. Remembering that bit of his oldest daughter’s hellion years made Deveraux feel a bit better. And remembering that his son Kyle was now old enough to pick Anna up from school made Deveraux smile with guilty but unrepressed glee.
Just this once.
He sent the text.
‘Kyle. Need you to pick up Anna from school. She got suspended I’ve got a busy schedule today. Your mom took an early flight but she’s still not back. You can just drop her off at home. Thanks, Dad.