12. Kids With Guns (Patreon)

“I want a gun like hers!” Milton demanded, eyes wide.

Piper sat up and scoffed. Scoffing hits different coming from a five-foot-nothing ball of pink, and the sight of her doing it to Milton… I almost died, stifling my laughter.

Ace looked at me, concerned.

More correctly, Piper shot me a disgusted look and went back to being haughty at Milton. “Cher, or should I say more properly, Cherished Blade 72, is an original gun from a series of one hundred weapons, handcrafted by a legendary chitech artisan, one of the pioneers of modern chitech, in fact, a man named Lauren Morrel.”

“He’s a looney, a real live ‘un,” I threw out.

Piper flicked me her librarian glare, the one that said shut up without saying a word. “He’s been dead since before you were born. More to the point. Cher here has half the core of a thousand-year flame salamander. The other half of the core is in Cherished Blade 73, a pistol meant to be paired with her, though, like most of the Cherished Blades, that weapon has been lost to time.”

“I sold it off a while back when I was short on cash,” I explained.

“I choose not to believe that, because it hurts me physically,” Piper said.

“Anyways, you were wrong about one thing.”

“Oh?”

“She’s not named Cher because she’s a Cherished Blade. She’s named Cher because she’s a fucking diva.”

Piper took a deep breath. “If you would just stop insisting on using a gun whose core is not only unsuited to you, but which also hates you personally for reasons even I don’t understand—”

“You can pry Cher out of my cold, dead hands,” I said flatly.

She threw up her hands, shaking her head at the boys. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

Milton nodded, though I suspected it had more to do with sucking up to the gunsmith than because he agreed. Ace stared blankly.

“Anyways, you never answered my question. Do you have any non-lethal—”

Piper stood up and marched into the back of her shop. I blinked. Well, okay. I tried. “C’mon, Milton, I did my best.”

“What? No. I want—I need a gun. And not non-lethal, either,” he demanded.

I frowned at him. “First off, you don’t need a gun. Second, anything lethal with a core would not only make you sick, but also drive you mad in short order. Nonlethal, you’ve at least got a couple years before the mana starts to eat your psyche.”

“A gun with a core?” His eyes shimmered with eagerness again, all talk of lethality forgotten.

“Well, yeah. I’m not…” I bit back your mom. Probably best not to rip that wound open before I even finished closing it. “…I’m not anti-magic. Pro-magic, in fact. I love it. I mean, you should really be a chimera first, but that’s not something I’m gonna do behind your dad’s back.”

Milton looked at me, then at the door, then back at where Piper had disappeared into. “Let’s wait a little longer.”

Alright, fine. I turned to Ace. “So what are you doing here?”

He mopped his hair back with both hands, then let go. It all cascaded down on his skull and rushed into his face. “Bored.”

The wind from his hair blew across the room and smacked me in the face. I recoiled from the stench, waving a hand. Ugh, blood, rotten fish, and unwashed boy, what a great combination. “You need a bath.”

He tipped his head at me.

“You know what a bath is. Don’t play cute.”

“Bath?” He tipped his head to the other side.

I took a deep breath. “Don’t you try me, kiddo.”

Piper reappeared, a silver derringer in her hands. It fit her perfectly, which is to say, it was an adorably small gun. “Diamond Spire ’83. Comes from the King line of guns. Great brand, consistent, survive the dust, big focus on water elementals.”

“It’s a water gun?” I asked, excited. What a waste of a core, but at the same time, I kind of love it?

She frowned at me. “It’s an ice gun. Shoots a blast of ice magic. Can immobilize and injure. Non-lethal except in extreme circumstances. Can’t take lead, core-only. Core is a quarter of a snow-rabbit core, five years. Won’t last very long, but it’s a farmed core, so it’s a only a matter of buying a new core.” Hands flashing, she slid the grip off the butt, revealing a panel of bone, a tiny whitish core, and a simple magical circuit that coiled around the trigger, arcane letters spiraling around the upper edge of the grip and out of sight. A click, and the core vanished again. “Fifty gold. And I’m not negotiating, because I want to go to sleep.”

“I can pay it in mana,” I offered.

Piper let out a long sigh, but put the gun on the counter and held her hand out to me.

Milton snatched up the gun before I even finished paying out the crystals. “Whoa. A real magic gun.” He whirled around and laughed, holding it high. “A real magic gun!”

“If he fires it in the shop, you’re paying damages,” Piper said.

“Fire the gun and die,” I threatened, still focused on counting out the crystals. Though if he can figure it out without any help…

“Uwah!” Milton shouted, stumbling back.

I whipped around. Milton shook his hand hard, terrified. Narrow white tubes connected the gun to his wrist, red sinking up them.

“It’s eating me!” he shouted.

Figures. “Congrats, you figured out how to feed the core. I like to say a word aloud as a mental cue so I don’t accidentally give Cher the order to attach—”

Clear tubes whipped out from Cher’s handle. I whipped her off my shoulder and held her by the barrel. “Stop it, right now.”

The tubes sought out my flesh for another second, then drooped. They whirled back into the core and vanished.

“As I was saying. You, as an individual without a core, needs to be…” I narrowed my eyes at Cher. “… attached to fire the gun. Otherwise, you can’t connect to the core to guide the magic. As a bonus, you feed the core with your blood at the same time. Keeps it alive.”

“The gun’s alive?” Milton asked, shocked.

“The core is alive. Kind of. It’s complicated. Some cores even have a personality, of sorts. Something that small won’t have a personality, but get something bigger, and it becomes a whole mess, real fast.” I patted Cher lovingly.

Low mana, she replied.

He stared at the wires, watching his blood sink into the gun’s handle. “What if you have a core? Do you need to attach then?”

I shrugged. “Technically no, since you can connect to its magic through your own magic, but… you still need to feed the core sometimes. And besides, it’s like…” I searched for a metaphor. Jerking it versus sex? No, no, way too young. Holding hands versus kissing? Who am I kidding, he hasn’t done either of those. Er… “… like uh, like a snack, versus a meal. You know?”

Milton blinked at me, lost.

“It gets the job done, but it doesn’t feel as good and you have to do more work.”

He nodded slowly. “Like jerking off compared to banging someone.”

I shook my head. “Yeah. Yep, alright.” Horny-ass teenage boys. I should’ve expected.

Ace gave me a confused look.

“Now that you’re attached, you should be able to fire,” I said, ignoring Ace.

Milton raised the gun.

I batted it down. “Outside! Outside.”

Behind us, Piper yawned. “Come back tomorrow, alright? And bring the younger kid, too. He’s got an interesting smell to him.”

“That’s a word for it,” I muttered.

“His core, his core.” Piper waved us out, stifling another yawn with her other hand.

Outside, black sky stretched overhead, salted with stars. In the distance, downtown glowed with light, but this far out, only darkness awaited us. Darkness and a silver of moon, little more than a fingernail’s width left tonight.

Milton practically vibrated with excitement. He pointed the gun all around, aiming at any and everything.

“Hold on. Let’s get you somewhere less expensive.” I led him around the corner, into the back of Piper’s shop. An empty lot made a makeshift shooting range, a half-dozen cans propped on a wooden board, itself propped on bricks. More cans laid around at the board’s feet, dented and rusty.

Milton came around the corner. He looked around, found the back of Piper’s shop, and lifted his gun.

I took Milton by the shoulders and turned him physically to face the cans. “Aim at that. Only that. And then go wild.”

Holding the gun in both hands, he aimed, tipping his head to stare down the ironsights, then fired.

Blue light hurtled into the cans. It impacted the board and materialized into ice, locking the can to the board.

“Whoa!” Milton shouted, eyes wide. He aimed and fired again, then again, and again. Ice splattered over the board and the wall behind, a few shots going wide.

Ace looked at me. “He’s a bad shot.”

“Shh, now, shh,” I murmured. We’re trying to build him up, not knock him down.

“Oh, shut up. Like you could do better,” Milton replied, rolling his eyes.

Ace’s eyes narrowed. He leaped at me.

“Whoa, hey, don’t get me involved—” I threw my hands up.

His hand closed around Cher’s strap, and he yanked her off my shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa, kid, now is not the time…” I swiped at him.

Ducking me, Ace threw himself into a roll, popped up to a firing position, shouldered Cher, and fired once.

Two cans popped off the board. Ace absorbed the kick as best he could. His small body jolted with the blow, but his stance stayed firm.

I stared, jaw agape. What the hell, Cher. Won’t hit the broad side of a barn for me, but you’ll roll over for this new kid?

Ace stood and handed the gun back to me.

I snatched it away. “Touch her again, and die. She’s a deadly weapon, not a toy for kids.”

“Th—that’s a sniper rifle! It doesn’t count,” Milton spluttered.

Ace scoffed and tipped back his head so he could look down his nose at Milton. “How could you know? You can’t even fire her.”

I swatted him on the back of the head. “Alright, that’s enough smug teens for the night. Milton, you did great. I didn’t think you’d last more than one shot, I’ll be honest, but that’s your bloodline working for you.”

“Huh? What do you mean, last…?”

Abruptly, he clutched his stomach as his face took on a greenish shade. He pitched forward and retched. Vomit splattered over the ground.

“It’s rough, huh? Magic brutalizes you.” I rubbed his back gently. “Alright, let it all out, and let’s get back to the bolthole before you pass out.”

“Heh,” Ace muttered.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Alright, cool it. Stop competing with the normie, okay? You’re a chimera. We all know who wins that battle.

“I…” Milton spat, then bent and vomited again.

“Don’t talk. Focus on puking. It hits everyone like this the first time.”

Ace crossed his arms and stared into the distance, lips twisted.

What have I gotten myself into this time? I rubbed my head and stared up at the stars. No answers glimmered back at me. What do adults say in situations like this? Um… “Hey, you’ve gotta share it with your sister, okay?”

Milton burped and shuddered.

Ah. He’d know. He was always good with kids.

But he’s not here. He’s dead.

You—

“Ow!” Milton snapped, flinching away from my hand.

I glanced down. My fingers had curled into claws of their own volition. I withdrew my hand, holding it to my chest. “Sorry, sorry. That all?”

Milton nodded. “I… I think so.”

I nodded. “C’mon, kiddos, let’s head back.”