TECNOMAGE

  Book 15 of the Ironspell Chronicles

  MH BONHAM

  Llaughing Llama Media, LLC

  © 2022 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

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  The Ironspell Chronicles Series

  (Asterisk Denotes Full-Length Novels)

  That Dragon was in No Way my Fault (Book One)

  A Date with a Werewolf (Book Two)

  Alchemist Rules (Book Three)*

  Elfshot (Book Four)*

  The Trouble with Bats (Book Five)

  Wolfsbane (Book Six)*

  Oathbreaker (Book Seven)*

  Winter of Our Discontent (Book Eight)

  Hellfire (Book Nine)*

  Yes, Ironspell, There is a Santa Claus (Book Ten)

  Frost and Fire (Book Eleven)*

  The Daemon in the Details (Book Twelve)

  The Name of the Daemon (Book Thirteen)*

  The Last Templar (Book Fourteen)*

  Technomage (Book Fifteen)

  Fallen Angel (Book Sixteen) – Winter 2023

  Chapter One

  Everyone says it's my fault, but it's really not. Well, not really. I was in the wrong place at the right time. At least, that's what I told myself as I hung from shackles in front of a pissed-off vampire.

  Okay, okay. Maybe going to Highlands Ranch to investigate the fangers’ dealings with Lucifer wasn't the best idea I ever had. In truth, my buddy, Ironspell, would've told me I was a freaking idiot. Fuck him. I thought my fanger buddy, Justin would at least bail me out if things got too hot. Little did I know, Justin decided to take an extended vacation somewhere dark. I guess he did his bit for Ironspell and decided to skip town for a while.

  My name is Droid. At least that’s what my friends call me. My enemies call me Droid, too, but they haven’t been many until recently. Guess I have Ironspell to thank for that. But then, Spaz has to take some blame here. Lucifer was looking for his very own technomage and Spaz stood out like a Banshee at a rave.

  We managed to get Spaz out from the Devil’s thumb, so to speak, and recently Spaz and I were working on a pocket virtual reality universe so that if he had problems like this again in the virtual reality world of the Enchanted Forest or EF, he could give the troublemaker a permanent timeout. Technically, that’s why I was in this predicament. With Lucifer loose, we had to check every possible lead so we could capture him and keep him from causing more chaos. Hence me snooping around a fanger’s home midday. Who would’ve thought this clown would be awake?

  “Do you have any last words to say?” The fanger was typical for his type. Pasty skin, pale eyes, black hair—Justin was so much hipper than this clown. Even his clothes look like something a stiff wore—get it? Technically he was a stiff. Another fang banger made him into what he was. Undead really are so lame. I would’ve rolled my eyes and copped an attitude had I not had him literally breathing down my neck and displaying ginormous retractable fangs.

  “Dude, get a Tic-tac or something. You’re breath smells like rotting meat.”

  Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

  “You think you’re funny, little man. I will be happy to drain you dry and make you into another one of my servants…” The vamp opened his mouth wide, presumably to take a chunk out of my throat.

  I scrambled backwards as much as I could as a Templar sword separated the fanger’s head from his neck and nearly nicked me. The vamp’s head rolled forward and bounced off my chest; a fang catching my leather jacket and adding a deep gouge as it fell to the floor. The body collapsed, weeping black ichor—nasty stuff. If the fanger were alive, the blood would’ve sprayed everywhere. But undead hearts don’t pump blood. The magical virus that infects the person another vampire drains does something to ensure they “live” as undead.

  I skipped Undead Biology in college because I had a coding project that was far more important. I only passed with a B because I hacked the registration computer. (Note: never give yourself an A on everything because that invites suspicion.)

  “About time you showed up.” I grumbled as Ironspell tapped the manacles. I felt a slight zap from magic, and I dropped to the floor, nearly tripping over the dead fanger.

  Ironspell looked at me in disbelief, bloody sword in hand. He’s a little taller than I am—probably around six feet or so. His dark hair is cropped short in a kind of regulation cut for a cop, but he wasn’t in a cop uni. No, he was wearing jeans and a Werewolves of London t-shirt, presumably given to him by his werewolf girlfriend. “You know, you’re a fucking idiot.”

  I gave him the one-finger salute. “Yeah, well, I had everything under control.”

  “What part of control were you in chained up to a wall in a fanger’s crypt?” Ironspell looked at me in disbelief. “Unless you like that sort of thing. In which case, you’re holding out on Justin.”

  He got a double one-finger salute for that. “I could’ve gotten out any time.”

  Ironspell’s look of askance told me he wasn’t buying it. “If you’re going to help me out, the least you could do is learn some defensive spells.”

  “At least I didn’t get my spells from the back of cereal boxes.” I rubbed my wrist. Those shackles were going to leave a mark.

  Ironspell laughed. “Hey, I’ve gotten some great spells out of Wizardry Today. Don’t knock it.” He paused. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  I nodded as he sheathed his sword. “You won’t need that?”

  “Nah, got rid of the lackeys. Besides, Vetr is playing lookout.” He shrugged.

  “You two going to get in trouble?” I asked as we approached the stairs.

  Ironspell blinked. “Why? You telling anyone we killed a bunch of fangers to save your sorry ass?”

  “Umm,…no?” I blinked as he flicked on the stairwell light, effectively blinding me, and began to ascend the stairs.

  Ironspell’s right side of his mouth quirked upward in amusement at my predicament. Asshat. “Besides, there’ll be no investigation because it deals with fangers.”

  “Guilty until proven innocent?” I smirked.

  “Not exactly, but Highlands Ranch is pretty much vamp territory and lawless. Fangers are guilty if they’re caught trying to drain someone, and DWTF justice is swift. Normals and even Supernaturals don’t touch them because they’re so tough. I don’t agree with it, but that’s how the law works out.” He shrugged. The DWTF was the Denver Wizard Task Force—and no, I am not shitting you. It’s a stupid name, and even Ironspell admits that.

  I shook my head. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft over fangers?”

  “I don’t like most of them, but there are a few I have sympathy for. One was Godfrey. The other is your friend, Justin. And I kind of have an uneasy acquaintance with Thomas St. Claire.” Ironspell shook his head. “So, did you find Lucifer?”

  “No, just a pissed off vamp who wanted me for lunch.” I walked up the stairs with him. “Guess that’s what I get for B&E.”

  Ironspell stared at me. “You did not just say that.”

  “What?”

  I must have looked nonplussed because he continued to stare at me like I was an idiot. “It’s because you just admitted to breaking and entering in front of two cops.” Vetr stood in front of the stairs, blocking our exit like the blue wall he was. He was easily six and a half feet by my reckoning and all Frost Giant. Yeah, Ironspell’s partner is an honest-to-gods Jotun, only he tones down his size around us and uses some sort of illusion-like glamour around the public. Apparently I rated enough to see his true form. He had blue skin, runes tattooed along one side of his face, and white hair. And he was frosty in almost all senses of the word. I could feel the cold emanating from him. Like Ironspell, he wasn’t in unis. Instead, he wore trews with laced up boots and a tunic. I half expected him to wear armor, but apparently this wasn’t a big enough battle.

  “Chill out,” I said. “I didn’t exactly B&E. The idiot had no wards and his tech was lame. He was practically inviting someone to drop in.”

  Ironspell and Vetr exchanged glances, and Ironspell facepalmed. “Seriously, dude? You think that because someone has a cheap alarm system that gives you the right to waltz right in?”

  “You used to be a lot less stuck up before you were a cop.” I pointed out.

  “Is he always like this?” Vetr backed up and let us enter the hall. Like many of the vamp homes in Highlands Ranch, this one was designed like a mini castle—a McCastle, if you would. The stairs we walked up were faux stone—the fanger obviously was one of the poorer ones because he didn’t pay for the real stuff. The hall Vetr stood in had more of the faux stone lining the walls and floor. It was a shoddy job, too, because you could see where the sheets didn’t quite line up.

  “Yes.” Ironspell and I spoke in unison.

  Vetr shook his head. “I meant the geek.”

  “Yes.” We both stared, and then glared at each other.

  “I didn’t mean Ironspell.” The Jotun gave me a frosty look. “And he was your friend in college?” Obviously not addressing me.

  Ironspell sighed. “Yeah. My friend with a broken moral compass.”

  “You seem to have a lot of those.” Vetr glanced down the hallway and then back at me. “I like the haircut and shave. You look less like a vagrant.”

  “Ha, ha. Just for you, I’ll grow my beard back.” I sneered at him. Actually, I probably wasn’t. The long hair and beard were getting a bit annoying to keep up. Since I last saw them, I had hit the barber shop and got rid of my beard and got my hair cut short. Gods, I was getting old.

  At that moment, a ginormous wolf bounded toward us. Normally, I would think oh cute, puppy, but the wolf that came at us would make Superman shit his pants. For one thing, he was all teeth and snarls, and if he were any bigger, he wouldn’t fit in the hallway. Knowing that this was his smaller size did nothing for my confidence. He also had wicked claws that I’ve seen on werewolves, which made him even more ferocious.

  “Heya Ulf!” Ironspell grinned as the gigantic toothy monster gave Vetr a slurpy lick and showed all his fangs at my friend. Despite this thing being on our side, Ironspell explained this was Sköll, the wolf destined to eat the sun at Ragnarok. That meant the wolf could easily become the size of our solar system. Not a fun thought. He turned to me. “Ulf says it’s all clear.”

  “Ulf.” I looked down at Sköll and gave him a weak smile. For some reason, Vetr had renamed the creature, maybe in the hopes that it would soften his image. That’s really like naming a hellhound Peaches and expecting it to be all cuddly. I glanced up at Ironspell, still keeping the Wolf from Hel’s domain in my sight. “Now, what?”

  Ironspell shrugged. “Since Lucifer isn’t around, maybe we should stop by Godfrey’s home and let Gary, the 501st Legion, and the other gamers know that he’s dead.”

  I blinked. “That’s Godfrey the vampire Templar, right?”

  “Yeah, but he really was a good guy. Didn’t drink directly from Humans. He just charged a blood donation from his gamer buddies. They held blood drives similar to the Red Cross.”

  I shook my head. “Fangers that drink blood are just a moment away from biting your neck. Even Justin says that. They need to go vegan.”

  “How much stock do you have in that plant-based hemoglobin company?” Vetr smirked.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s the way of the future for vamps.” I crossed my arms and glared at them both. Ironspell was trying to hide his snicker. Asshole.

  We walked out of the McCastle and squinted in the bright sunshine. This McCastle was small as castles went, and not even on a hill like most of the real castles. Instead it had a lovely view of the tract homes that had fallen into disrepair when the bloodsuckers started moving in. Those with money got the Hel out and the prices caved. Nobody except vamp junkies wanted to live next to fangers on account of their messy eating habits. Namely leaving zombies when they drained their victims dry.

  Didn’t know that, did you?

  “Gods, I hate fangers,” I grumbled.

  Vetr glanced at me like I was an idiot. “Your best friend is a fanger.”

  “A gay, vegan vampire.” Ironspell smirked.

  I shrugged. “Hey, I can still eat meat and have vegan friends.”

  “The vampire part, though.” Ironspell looked askance. “Justin is a fanger. You said you hate fangers.”

  “I hate fangers that bite people, okay?” I qualified my remark. I looked around. “Where’s your fylgja?”

  “Callan? He’s with Luna. He didn’t want to get up this morning. Apparently he’s going through adolescence.” Ironspell shrugged.

  I blinked. A fylgja was actually part of one’s soul. “That makes no sense. That would mean a part of you is just going through adolescence.”

  Ironspell shrugged again.

  Then our world exploded.

  Chapter Two

  The explosion knocked us off our feet and I ended up on the sidewalk on my ass. “Oww.” I stood up and rubbed my back end. Ironspell and Vetr somehow remained standing, the assholes. “What the fuck was that?”

  Ironspell shook his head. “Some type of magic.”

  “Are you always this stupid, or is it an act, Mister Obvious?” I stumbled over to my so-called friends. “Of course it’s magic, but who would dare set off an explosion in Fanger Central? And why?”

  At that moment, we heard shouting. Or more like loud chanting. I could just make out the words: Fangers Must Die! The Messiah will destroy all!

  Normally I would agree with the sentiment that the only vamp was a dead vamp, but one of my best friends was a fanger, so I’d be a hypocrite if I did. And I had met more than one fanger who was okay. Those fangers just wanted to live their undead lives without hurting humans and got their blood from blood banks and other sources rather than biting their victims.

  As for the whole Messiah thing, I found it stupid. These were the same people who followed a Void daemon and now Lucifer because they promised to end Supernaturals. Okay, it wasn’t entirely their fault that they were so easily duped, but when people are running around looking for a messiah to handle their problems, a con-artist usually steps in to fill that spot. Because evil abhors a vacuum. And many in the Cult of the Messiah had plenty of vacuum between their ears.

  Another explosion hit—this time like something slammed down around us. This time, I managed to keep my footing. At that point, I pulled out my smartphone and opened my hacking app that got me into the security and street cams all around Highlands Ranch. I guessed by the sound of the chanting, the mob was somewhere nearby.

  I could only hope the resident shamblers and runners would find them.

  “What the fuck are the Cult of the Messiah members doing in Highlands Ranch?” Ironspell turned to me. “Do you have a location for them? They sound like they’re at a Broadway entrance.”

  A few shots rang out, confirming my suspicions that they ran into the local zombies. The cams at the Broadway entrances past the shamble-guards confirmed their location. “Yeah, they’re about a quarter mile into Highlands Ranch. Looks like the shamblers found them. With any luck, they’ll get bitten.” I paused. “Do you think they have their shots?”

  Vetr shook his head. “They’re anti-vax.”

  “You have yours, don’t you?” Ironspell met my gaze.

  “Uh yeah—this is zom and fanger central. You think I want to start drooling and looking for brains?”

  “How would we know the difference?” Vetr remarked.

  I gave him the finger with my free hand. “I got a booster when I started working with Justin. He may be a gay, vegan vampire, but he doesn’t want his friends to end up as either a fanger, or more likely, a shambler.”

  Ironspell nodded in agreement. “Good. As long as you’re up-to-date, you should be fine whether you’re bit by a fanger or a shambler. Everyone talks about the zombie virus like it’s a separate disease from vampirism, but it’s not. It’s the vampire virus that has gone large.”

  “Right.” I sighed. Justin had tried to explain to me the workings of the virus, but in the end, scientists don’t know why some people become fangers, others become shamblers (slow zombies) and runners (fast zombies), and still others simply die. It’s all the same virus that interacts somehow with your DNA. However, there are enough vamp addicts who’ll risk the drain in the hopes that they’ll become a fanger. Unfortunately, most don’t end up that way. Of course, you can always pick up the virus with a zombie bite, which means you’ll have a slow and painful transformation, rather than the faster drained and poof! You’re a shambler. Or, if you’re “lucky,” maybe a runner. Zombie bites don’t make vampires. No, I don’t know why. I looked at my smartphone. The video feed showed the shamblers bearing down on the protestors. “The Cult of the Messiah looks like they have their hands full with the shamblers. Let’s get out of here.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said so far.” Vetr nodded. “For a guy who has to use a phone to do his magic, that’s impressive.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said. “I prefer to use my smartphone.”

  “Whatever.” The Jotun hooked his war axe on his belt and raised his hands to open a portal.

  “Wait a second.” Ironspell grabbed Vetr’s arm. “What about the Cult members?”

  Vetr glanced down at Ironspell, his ice-blue eyes glinting in warning. “What about them?”

  “They’re Normals. We can’t just leave them for zombie fodder.” Ironspell chewed his lip.

 

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