The Luck Thieves Read online

  The Luck Thieves

  Crime and Magic in the New Russia #2

  James Beach

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  The Luck Thieves

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  About the Author

  In the morning gloom of St. Petersburg’s snow-covered streets, Oleg saw the man who had answered his summons. The man had yet to see him, and cast glances nervously around him.

  Some instinct appeared to be telling the man that all was not well. He looked to be in his late sixties, with a hard lined face that had seen many injustices. Perhaps he had been a sailor. Perhaps he’d had enough life experience to know something was wrong without knowing why.

  Even though Oleg expected to be invisible to this man, he preferred to take no chances. He approached from behind.

  Without warning he thrust his fist into the middle of the man’s spine, about parallel with the solar plexus. His victim gasped in sudden pain. Oleg clasped his hand over the old man’s mouth, wrapped his other arm around him and dragged him into a nearby alley.

  There he shoved the poor bastard to the ground, and checked to make sure they had attracted no suspicion. No one had appeared to notice. Any who might have seen been looking in their direction also should not have seen Oleg, and would think the old man was just another drunk.

  Oleg had a job to do, and a life to save. The life to save was his own. The job was ruining the lives of others.

  He bent over the man and, with the magics Magda had taught him, finished the job by draining the old man of all the energy he could.

  When he had taken most of what he could for the moment, Oleg knelt over the ruined man and examined him. The man’s were half-lidded and his face was pale, so much that he was beginning to match the alley’s shade of light snow, concrete and filth. Oleg sighed.

  The poor bastard had barely enough of what Oleg needed. If the he woke up, he would at least be a continued source for his remaining days. If the man died here, so be it. Oleg’s job, and he thought his life, required him to not think too much about the consequences for others.

  So it had been since Oleg was very young. Magda, his owner and tormentor, had come into his life as a child. His first task for her was something he still didn’t want to think about - taking similar energy from his fellow orphans, in payment for his own life being saved.

  He hoped his job was almost done. It seemed like it might be. Just a few more lives ruined, and his own life would be considerably safer. Another level of power for Magda meant another level of safety for him.

  The man lying at his feet coughed a bit, and opened his eyes. In his last moments he could see Oleg clearly. “You…” the man began. The remaining light in his eyes faded. He breathed his last out into the alley’s air.

  Oleg stood. He had more work to do before tonight, or Magda would be very angry.

  Maybe some day he would be free from her. He didn’t dare let himself think of it. For now and the foreseeable future, their destinies were tied. The only path Oleg saw to his own saving was her success.

  The bullet was gone from Aurelian’s back, but its left pain as a reminder. He leaned back in the small room’s sole piece of furniture, a couch that probably dated back to Khrushchev. The movement made him wince.

  The veterinarian they’d bribed into removing the bullet said Aurelian he was lucky - the low caliber slug had hit muscle instead of bone, head or heart. Aurelian had to laugh at calling this luck. It stung more than his usual rolls of the dice. Life as a thief in post-Soviet St. Petersburg had been hard enough. Then he became ensnared into violent dances with things that should not be.

  Still he could not deny his good fortune in being alive. Even more, along the way he had met Lyita. In underground lairs lost since Stalin they had found and destroyed the unholy Ghost Magnet, and saved the entire city.

  Then they had returned to the surface, to find the world very much the same. He had looked high and low for any of the spoils from the Hermitage museum theft that had led to the bullet in his back, to no avail. He remained as poor as ever, and still on the run from the law.

  At least Lyita’s friends gave them a place to stay while he healed. This cramped room and couch weren’t much, but they were far warmer than the streets.

  Lyita had returned to work herself, and left Aurelian to heal. That was a week ago. She had been as good and patient with him as any woman could be under the circumstances. Aurelian would have to find work too, and soon. It might even have to be honest.

  His Lyita…he did like the sound of that.

  She was lovely, and often moody, and smart - maybe smarter than him, although of course it never did a man good to admit something like that. Yet she stayed with him. Maybe she wasn’t that smart after all. Not that he was so bad himself. Sure, he was average height. But he was also pretty fit, from years of getting in and out of buildings and situations. Whatever her reasons for liking him, he was glad of them. It was time to not make her think too hard about the reasons.

  He moved on the couch, wincing more as a result, and snatched the newspaper he had left on the couch’s armrest. He looked through the work advertisements again. Maybe there was something he had missed.

  Suddenly there was.

  Seeking light construction workers. Skilled or unskilled, pay cash at end of day. Meet at the docks at 3pm today.

  An address followed, near the Port of St. Petersburg.

  The position was perfect for him. How had he missed it?

  A chill ran across his back, as if a wind blew across the room. He looked around nervously. The last time he’d felt something similar, he’d ended up shot. This lousy little apartment still shouldn’t have a sudden draft like that.

  He wished Lyita were here, so at least he could ask her if spirits were involved. Those strange skills of hers helped save them both before.

  Aurelian shook his head. Dark magic and a job ad? He did not want to face his woman with fears that sounded like excuses not to work. He locked his foreboding away.

  Light construction was something he could do. It might require some sort of kickback to local mafia, but that shouldn’t be too bad for a man who knew how to handle himself. There were not usually dangerous people at such a level, just wannabes who dressed up a bit.

  That last bit about “3 pm today” was odd. Why not give a specific date? The newspaper was published daily, but still.

  Did it matter if this offer was a set up? He liked his girl, and also the streets were cold to sleep on. He had to at least give it a look.

  Magda looked in the mirror, as she prepared for the grand event tonight. Her dress was just as she wanted it – neither cheap nor glamorous. She herself appeared exactly as she wanted - neither young or old, neither ugly nor pretty, not tall or short - just another person in the crowd that you would not look twice at. She believed in helping others to underestimate her.

  Most of her serfs were working on various tasks related to tonight’s aftermath. Only one last thread remained. She picked up her phone and called her assistant. “Did the lure catch today?” asked Magda.

  “Yes ma’am!” Oleg answered. The fear in his voice made her smile. It was good to know he would never forget the power she had over him. “I got one, and I felt two more bite. They see a chance, and they both have a lot of luck to lose.”

  “When might they be done?”

  “Mid afternoon.”

  She closed her eyes and made a fist in triumph. This could seal her ascension. “Do the victims know of magic? We must be especially careful only to hurt peasants, until I become the arbiter.”

  Oleg paused. She imagined him closing his eyes and feeling the spell. “I don’t think they know of any magic,” he answered. “They were attuned enough to jump at the lure, but they don’t h
ave any magic force themselves.”

  She frowned. “Two young men is unusual for this spell. Be careful the luck does not shift their way. Where will they be met?”

  “They are to be standing outside by the docks this afternoon.”

  “Good. I am busy with other preparations for tonight. I leave them to you as well.”

  “As you wish,” said Oleg. He decided to brave a joke. “It seems our own luck is doing quite good, eh?”

  “It is not due to luck,” said Magda. She was all business with no sense of humor. Humor cost time, which was more valuable than money or even luck. “We are where we are because we have made ourselves stronger and wiser than these fools.” Her voice hardened. “Don’t get distracted. You know what awaits you if you disappoint me.”

  Her assistant paled, abashed. “Of course, ma’am. I didn’t - I didn’t mean to-”

  “Go do your job.” She ended the call, and smiled briefly to herself. They could be disconnected by phone, but he would remain connected to her all his life. As were all who served her – and as soon could be all the new people in her power.

  Aurelian decided to not tell Lyita about the possible job. He would either bring her good news, or she would never know it hadn’t worked out. He would much rather surprise her pleasantly than disappoint her.

  He was just suspicious enough from his thieving career to show up an hour early, and find a spot near a coffee cart to watch who would arrive.

  Sure enough, fifteen minutes before the meeting time a man showed up. The man stepped around a corner across the street from where they were supposed to gather, and stood mostly in the shadows. Aurelian’s heart sank to watch him, as the man’s eyes stayed fixed on the exact corner the ad had asked job-seekers to stand.

  The man was thin, a bit on the tall side, with a short bit of blond hair sticking out from a black knit cap. He looked to be in his early thirties, and did not at all look like any kind of an employer. It was not raining or even snowing, yet he was wearing a full-length raincoat more suitable to fancy office workers. He also jumped every time he saw someone walk near the corner, only to relax and then scowl as they walked past it. It all made Aurelian actually curious now. The man was so like a mugger seeking a specific target, except he also seemed completely unfamiliar with this brand of work. His manner was as conspicuous and out of place as his clothes.

  After some minutes the guy looked down the street a bit and this time didn’t move his head. Aurelian followed his eyes, and saw a young man approaching. The man this apparent amateur mugger was looking at seemed barely old enough to be called a man. He was probably not even 18, a little soft and pudgy too, and with an awful haircut. The kind of kid who does decently at school and goes on to an uneventful life as some sort of plumbing manager or sanitation engineer. Was this kid lured by the promise of construction work too?

  The kid stood at the exact spot mentioned in the ad and then looked around, waiting for someone to show up. His back was to the man in the trench coat staring at him.

  The likely mugger walked toward the kid.

  Aurelian found himself mad enough to take a punch at this piece of crap. He’d come all the way here for a job, and this kid had too, and it was all just a set up for a mugging? What was the world coming to? Steal from a man if you must – but why set him up with hope and then betray him?

  He left the coffee cart and began walking towards them both, increasing his pace to reach the would-be mugger first. It would simply make his day to ruin the mugging of this soft kid just by whistling loud, or asking for a cigarette. Sometimes that’s all it took.

  When he had almost reached the blond man in the full raincoat, the would-be mugger whirled around to face him.

  “Got a cigarette?” Aurelian asked, in his best pesky civilian voice.

  The man stared at him in surprise. “You can see me?”

  Aurelian frowned. “Of course I can see you. Why couldn’t I see you? Are you drunk?”

  The man muttered beneath his breath and drew a pattern in the air before Aurelian’s eyes. The man moved to his left and…

  What had Aurelian been thinking? Something about…a kid…

  Aurelian felt a sharp pain in his gut, and he sat down hard on the pavement. He looked at his stomach. It felt like something had been ripped out, just below his sternum. But there was no blood. No blood anywhere.

  Some sort of blur punched him again, in the same spot. He raised an arm to push him off, and barely saw another strike. Then it was…drawing something on the skin below his sternum where he’d just been hit. But through Aurelian’s coat.

  Aurelian passed out.

  He woke up minutes later and jumped to his feet, to nearly fall again from sudden dizziness. He made it back to his feet by sheer determination, and stared at the streets around him. A couple walked past averting their gaze, probably thinking he was some passed-out drunk. An old man with a cane walked slowly around the corner to a destination unknown. The coffee cart was even gone. There was no one else to fight.

  Aurelian patted his pockets. He still had his cellphone, keys and wallet. What was going on?

  A groan alerted him to the kid he’d seen before, now on the ground across the street.

  He looked up at Aurelian. “Did you do this to me?” he asked, his eyes barely focusing.

  “Shut up,” said Aurelian, trying to cover his rising panic.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Magda’s cellphone rang. She answered it.

  “I got their luck,” Oleg confirmed. “You should begin to feel it soon.”

  “Excellent. That should give more than enough to win tonight, if the others don’t first give me what is my right.” She paused. It was good to occasionally express gratitude. That also made the fear stick better. “Good work, my assistant.”

  “Thank you mistress,” Oleg said with great relief. “I should tell you there - there was something strange about one of them.”

  Magda didn't like uncertainty. Even the magic she preferred was direct and brutal. “What?”

  “One of them could see me.”

  She grit her teeth. “Did you just forget to hide your presence?”

  "Of course not! Ma’am,” he added quickly. “To be extra sure, I nearly doubled the spell.”

  “And in spending luck energy on that, you drained your own. That is how luck can be," she said. “I’ve told you this. You do listen to me, don’t you?" She increased the anger in her tone, to make sure Oleg could not mistake it for mere annoyance. "When you channel your luck into a spell to take someone else’s, you temporarily deplete your own. You will have less luck than you think until you have fully collected all the luck you target. You must be extra careful under these conditions.”

  “Yes ma’am, I was listening and I know. It’s just that the way he looked me in the eyes…I wonder if he’s got an immunity to that spell."

  She turned her head and considered it. “There was a strange ripple a week ago. Everything felt a little lighter somehow. Perhaps this one you speak of was involved in that, but has not yet been introduced to other circles...” She stared off, remembering her own violent introduction to the world of the impossible and occult, so many years ago. “If he was involved in that, he may have seen some of the beyond. Once even a peasant has seen the impossible, it becomes harder to make them unsee it. And it becomes harder to cloud their sight."

  “Okay,” said Oleg. “Then what shall we do?”

  “As long as he is protected by no patrons, he is free to be hunted.” She rubbed her chin. “Drain them both of the rest of their luck as quickly as you can, then finish them off.” She looked at her diamond-studded watch. “I must now go to the event. Don't slip up, or I will take all the remaining luck from you. You know that I can."

  "Of course, mistress," Oleg said.

  She smiled as she ended the call. She liked how he didn't bother to hide his fear from her. She suspected it was because he thought it made him safer from her.

>   She hailed a taxi for the Hermitage museum. It was too early for the event, but it was always pleasant to look around the museum. Perhaps there were images of Czars or bloody battles she might take inspiration from, as she mentally prepared.

  Aurelian staggered over and helped the kid to his feet. The kid thanked him and mumbled that his name was Eric. They didn’t say much else as they helped each other back to their homes.

  Eric ’s house was first. He told Aurelian his parents weren’t home, and invited him in to rest. Aurelian mumbled a thanks and shook his head. He must get back to his own house before he collapsed from whatever had happened to him. What a lucky kid he is to still have living parents, Aurelian thought.

  He continued on back to the where he lived from the charity of Lyita’s friends. He barely made it up the steps and fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them three times in a row. He could have picked the lock if he needed to, but it was still disheartening. It was as if he was straining against some force to just do ordinary things. Like a rubber band, or maybe a leech, was pulling something out of him that he needed for every step.

  He made it up the stairs while nearly slipping and falling three times. At last he reached the room where he’d been staying, made it to the couch, and then collapsed.

  Hours later, Lyita knocked at the door. She had her hands full with groceries, and couldn’t quite get to the knob. Aurelian had to hear her - why didn’t he answer?

  She managed to get the door open, and came in still struggling with packages. There he was on the couch, lying almost exactly where he’d been when she’d left for work in the morning.

  Her face fell. He had been well earlier today. Was he taking a turn for the worse?

  A separate thought occurred to her, that made her feel ashamed. He had shown such bravery a few days ago. Together they had saved each other’s lives. Yet they still knew so little about each other. What if he turned out to be an addict of some kind? Or just a drunk?