Storm Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 4), Aaron Ritchey [best beach reads txt] 📗

I mean, he has to say yes, right? You don’t have anyone else. And Niko knows the score. Give the people what they want, right? Tell me I’m wrong.”

Teddy wore black shorts that were ill-named since they fell to his thick calves. He too wore a MudCon T-shirt, but from its inaugural year, 2017. It was a navy-blue color with a single glowing fist on the front and a blue flame on the back. He wore big white running shoes, which he kept unlaced.

“You’re wrong.” Niko didn’t see a way out. Teddy wasn’t in good enough shape to make it the pseudo-spectacle that Stan wanted. “I don’t have robes. I’m not sure I can even do Twin Damage. This is a horrible idea.”

“He’ll do it.” Teddy grabbed his arm and shook him. “Vanessa’s boyfriend has a cousin who’s here. He fought in the first match, but the robes will work for our boy. Nikodemus Kowalczyk, back on the tiles, this ought to be epic. Remember how good he was, Maddy? He could’ve been a contender!”

“Not true.” Niko had to focus on not standing there with his jaws so tight he could press coal into diamonds. “I was a cusp. The agencies were never going to pick me up.”

Maddy’s eyes went from Niko to Teddy and back to Niko. “Sorry, Teddy, I need to hear it from Niko. Will you do it?”

He nodded. How come it felt like he was betraying himself?

Teddy’s smile almost knocked his head off. He looked like he might explode into dancing a musical number, he was so happy. “We’ll get his robes. Is there a green room where he can change? Don’t make our stallion change in the men’s room. He’ll also need to do a little cycling.”

Maddy's eyes wouldn’t leave Niko’s face.

She wanted to hear that he was glad to help, that it wasn’t a big deal, but he couldn’t give that to her. He was going to fight. That was enough.

When he stayed silent, she still smiled at him. “Uh, we have a green room, but it’s not very green. There are meditation mats by the masseuse booth in the vender room.”

“We’ll take it!” Teddy escorted Niko away from Maddy and toward the exhibitors in Hall CC.

People milled about, buying stuff, selling stuff. On the other side of a collapsible wall, the yells of a crowd and the snap and crackle of a Battle Arena cut through the murmuring. Authors were selling novels, graphic artists hawked their comic books, and then you had any number of stalls with Battle Artist gear, robes, mats, weapons, even a full collection of tiles that might set you back a couple thousand dollars. Several apothecaries sold tinctures and vapes to help with the various aspects of cultivation and cycling. Along one wall, attendees could pay to get their picture taken with B-list celebrities from TV shows like Spirits Unleashed and The Dark of Knight. A whole booth was dedicated to Twelve Legends, the ultimate Battle Artist video game.

And of course, people were in Zodiac Overmen cosplay, both from the original comic of the 1930s and the current reboot.

One vendor made Niko smile. Quincy Fire was a Battle Artist who had been working the Con circuit for years. He stood in front of a rack of his books and CDs because not only was he a Battle Artist, he also wrote novels and had a band. Quincy was unmistakable – a big blond Mohawk, tank top, ripped jeans, and combat boots.

Quincy was next to a little daemon shop selling drodes for cell phones. Whitney devices, small black boxes with red lights flashing, filled the shelves. The logos of the big corporations were all over the booth: SoulFire, Rocks & Rams, Anvil Incorporated, and Vannix House. Niko knew that none of those companies were directly involved with the vendor, but the images drew people over. The corporations provided the electricity that powered the world. They also wrote software, provided hardware, and fielded Artists for the League of Battle Artists. The companies were everywhere.

Niko didn’t even pause. He dealt enough with daemons at his day job that he wanted nothing to do with them during his off hours.

A lot of the faces of the vendors were familiar, but no one said hi to Niko. They saved their hellos for Teddy, who knew everyone, and who liked everyone. They liked him right back.

Niko felt out of place. It was a life he’d known well for a long time, since elementary school, but life had a way of unraveling on you. The ground could shift right when you needed it to be the most stable. Bay City was on a fault line. Earthquakes were common, and they never came at a good time. Everyone joked that Fort Tahoe would one day be oceanfront property. He never found the jokes very funny.

Teddy got pulled in to hear a pitch from a friend who had a new novel out, something about a team of Battle Artists fighting evil, not unlike superheroes, though to be honest, Niko liked superheroes more. Alien powers from cosmic rays or magical powers from mystical beings, hell, even vampires were preferable because it fed the fantasy of unlimited power.

For Battle Artists, the power was always limited, either by their physical bodies, called sharira, or their cores of energy, prana, the words taken from India.

Niko was left alone. He didn’t need to worry about Teddy. The guy would find him without a doubt. The pair were basically inseparable.

There was a massage booth with an empty table, candles, and some incense. It was shoved between a bookstore and an apothecary. He’d not focused on his prana in what? Five years?

It was late March, so it was a little less than five years. Niko went over. A thin woman with dreadlocks smiled at him. “I don’t need a massage. Can I just sit for a second? I need to cycle.”

Saying that word, “cycle,” brought back a world of emotions. Niko had to clear his