The suit had cost him all the profits from the assassination of a South American warlord, but it’d been worth every dime. No one had any idea he was up here, and they weren’t likely to. Only the most sensitive Arcanists could see the suit’s magic without closing their eyes against the glare of daylight.
Not until it was too late.
* * *
As Jake rescued another cop from yet another Humanist, Erica scanned the crowd of Talent counterprotesters beating a wise retreat from the riot…
There.
She broke into a run until she caught up to her quarry on the edge of the crowd. Grabbing the young Bard by the shoulder, Erica pulled him to a stop. “Shannon, I need your help!” It was a damn good thing she’d caught him and his mother before they escaped the park with the others. “You’ve got to help me stop this.”
Shannon Biggerstaff’s dark eyes widened. “Me? What can I do?”
“Sing.” She started towing him toward the chaos.
“Are you nuts?” His mother stepped into her path, frowning ferociously. “Nobody’ll be able to hear him in all this!”
The woman had a point. Erica could barely hear herself over the howling Humanists, roaring cats, and bellowing cops. Her gaze fell on the gazebo, where Virginia Laurel had been speaking to the crowd over the PA system. The politician had disappeared -- no surprise -- leaving the amplifiers and mic unattended.
Unfortunately, several hundred crazy Humanists separated them from the sound system.
Following her gaze, Kim scowled. “If you think you’re taking my kid into that,” she jerked her chin toward the melee, “You’re out of your mind!”
She was right again. But they had to do something, damn it, or people were going to die.
Erica’s attention fell on Jake, who stood back to back with Kurt, both fully manifested. They were fighting at the head of a flying wedge of cops trying to push their way through the crowd, swinging batons and fighting hand-to-hand with protestors.
“Disperse! Disperse or go to jail!” The two men’s voices rang over the howls of the crowd, reverberating, inhumanly deep, amplified by their magic.
Jake snatched up a Humanist as if he were a toddler, jerked his wrists behind his back, and held them there as another cop zip tied them. “If you don’t disperse, you’re going to get hurt!” Every word he spoke blasted over the screams and curses of the battling Norms.
Inspiration hit. “Shannon, wait here. We can get Jake to amplify your magic.”
The Bard’s eyes widened. “Jake?” She’d never been so glad to see hero worship on a kid’s face.
“Oh, hell no!” Kim told her son. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Mom!”
Erica didn’t stay to listen to the argument. She just plunged into the crowd, screaming Jake’s name.
She passed a white-faced cop, blood pouring from a cut on his forehead, as he swung his baton at one of the protesters. This time she didn’t stop to help. Every moment this continued, somebody could -- and probably would -- get hurt much worse. “Jake! Jake, I need you!”
The lion’s huge glowing head turned toward her. “Erica?”
He said something to Kurt, then pushed his way toward her as the cops separated to let him through. “What?”
“I need you to play amplifier for Shannon!”
His eyes widened. “That could work!” Then his brows snapped down, and he whipped out a huge glowing paw that missed her by inches.
Startled, Erica turned to see a protester behind her face-plant on the ground.
“He was about to punch you in the head,” Jake told her, as he started clearing a path through the crowd. Erica followed, ducking and blocking attacks as he picked Humanists up and tossed them aside. A woman with a network news camera trailed them through the scrum, her lens pointed in their direction.
To Erica’s relief, they found Shannon and his mother waiting for them at the battlefield’s edge. She’d been afraid Kim would drag the boy off -- and she’d probably have been justified.
Even Shannon seemed to be having second thoughts, his eyes wide, his face white with anxiety. “I’m not sure I can do this,” he yelled.
“He can’t -- these idiots are crazy,” his mother shouted. “If he had the kind of power he’d need to influence them, he’d already have a recording contract.”
“He won’t be doing it alone. Jake and I will help. Or do you want to just stand there and watch cops get killed?” Erica shot a finger at the riot. Blood flew as cops and Humanists fought with berserk desperation. “A Talent did this. And Talents are going to have to stop it -- or we are going to end up in those fucking camps!”
Kim stared at her, then at the brawl. Muttering something that was probably a curse, she gave her son a tight nod. “Do your best.”
“Thank you!” Erica planted one hand on the teen’s shoulder, then reached for Jake’s manifestation and started forming the conduit they’d practiced last night. Unfortunately, she’d never done anything involving a Bard. She was just going to have to make it work anyway. “Now sing!”
Shannon threw his head back and obeyed.
Erica had never experienced how a Bard’s magic actually worked. Now, as deep magical vibrations rolled through his aura, she realized how similar it was to the way Dave, Kurt and Jake manipulated sound.
She let her own aura resonate with Shannon’s, adding her power to his and passing it on to Jake. There was a nerve-racking pause, as if Jake was trying to figure out what to do with that thrumming energy. Just as she was starting to worry, his manifestation began to vibrate. Shannon’s voice blasted out of him to roll across the park with the same thundering power as one of Jake’s roars.
As the words of “The Old Rugged Cross” rang over the chaos, the tight, frightened faces of the surrounding Talents began to smooth, fear draining away. Even the woman videographer stared at Shannon in awe.
Turning toward the battle, Erica spotted an entranced deputy gazing at the Bard as if hypnotized. He didn’t see the fist-sized rock that flew out of the crowd to slam into his head, dropping him like a felled ox.
Oh shit. Erica concentrated harder, trying to amplify the Bard’s magic with more of her own. Damn it, the drug’s too strong. He’s not going to be able to overcome it.
“We can help!” Genevieve and Kurt emerged from the crowd, already linked; her fingers were sunk into her husband’s manifestation, and magic leaped between them like tiny forked lightning. Their joined auras made Erica’s eyes tear. “We just need a singer…”
“I can do it.” A woman Erica didn’t recognize hurried up. Genevieve took her hand as the Bard began singing in a pure, ringing soprano, joining Shannon’s in an exquisite duet.
More Bards streamed out of the woods, singing as they came, gathering around the Ferals, Erica, and Gen. And Christ, it hurt. Each additional singer increased the throbbing burn growing behind Erica’s eyebrows. Without the layering trick Genevieve had taught her, she suspected her brain would explode like an aerosol can in a microwave.
She ignored the pain as she drew in the Bards’ magic and fed it to Jake, who sent it thundering over the riot.
The videographer who’d been shooting the group stepped back, her expression dazed. Then she lifted her camera and started filming them again, the look on her face a tortured blend of exultation and determination.
The fighting began to slow.
First one Humanist and then another turned in their direction, eyes startled as the magic finally overwhelmed the potion’s effects. More and more of them stopped fighting to listen entranced as the Bards sang, until they all stood frozen, silent tears rolling down their cheeks. Drunk on magic.
* * *
Adrian ground his teeth in rage. Goddamnit, he’d been afraid some fucking Talent would pull something out of a hat, but he hadn’t dreamed they’d figure out a way to stop the fighting completely.
Good thing this is only the first act.
For the hundredth time in his
long, black career, he found himself blessing the tattoos that made him resistant to other Arcs’ mental magic. He was lucky his mother had been so fucking good with a spell.
Which reminded him -- it was time for the next phase. Adrian started down the hillside into the trees where the Talents had retreated from the riot. The Spook Suit ensured nobody saw him, even when he knocked more than one idiot on the way.
And there she was.
Slipping up behind his victim, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a small metal tube. Adrian popped the cap off, removed the plastic needle cover from the syringe, then jabbed it into the thin skin of her neck.
“Oww!” She slapped at her nape as if trying to kill a mosquito. Adrian dropped the syringe on the ground and flipped the spelled blanket he carried over the woman’s head. The Talents, thoroughly enthralled by the Bards’ song, didn’t even notice her vanish behind the blanket’s magical camouflage. Clamping one hand over her blanket-covered face, Adrian muffled her outraged yell as he wrapped the other arm around her to contain her struggles.
Barely a minute passed before the drug took effect and she went limp in his arms. Adrian bent and swung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, grunting a little from her weight. “Damn, woman, you could stand to lose a few pounds.”
As he turned and started back toward the outcropping where he’d made his preparations, his gaze fell on Jake Nolan.
Who had no idea his mother had just been kidnapped.
Chapter Twenty
As the last notes of the song faded away, Jake sagged in relief. His head throbbed, and he felt drained. Amplifying the chorus’s magic had been the most complex thing he’d ever done. As a Feral, manifesting Clarence was effortless; all he did was release their combined magic.
But this had been something altogether different.
At first, as Erica had sent the exotic, alien power rolling through his aura, he’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to do the job at all. In desperation, he’d finally treated it the same way he treated Clarence: he got the fuck out the way and let it pour through him, reshaping his magic as it would.
He wrapped one arm around Erica for a fierce, relieved hug. “I can’t believe that worked!”
“It wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for Shannon.” She turned a dazzling smile on the young Bard, who was practically glowing. “Thank you so much.” Looking around at the exhausted, exhilarated Bards, she called, “Y’all saved a lot of lives today. I’m sure I can speak for Sheriff Gable when I say thank you all!”
As the Talents shared hugs and grins, Jake scanned the battlefield. The Norms blinked and looked around -- cops, Humanists, reporters and videographers alike, all a bit dazed and confused from the various spells they’d been subjected to. Some clutched injuries while others collapsed to the ground in pain and exhaustion. He heard one HHer ask, “What the fuck just happened?”
“Yeah,” Jake muttered, “Just what I was thinking.”
“All right,” the sheriff’s amplified voice crackled through a bullhorn. “Everybody who hit a cop is under arrest until we get this thing sorted out. Officers, take your zip ties and get to work.”
“Wish Shannon could’ve used that fucking bullhorn instead of us,” Kurt told him, rubbing his forehead as if it hurt. Judging by Jake’s headache, it probably did.
Evidently overhearing, Shannon explained, “A bullhorn distorts the sound too much. Anyway, it wouldn’t have been loud enough.”
Now that it was safe, EMS crews began working their way across the field, triaging the injured and going to work on those hurt the worst. There were a lot more crews than they’d started out with. Evidently dispatch had realized things were going sideways and called in every unit in the county.
Remembering the guy with the dragon on his head, Jake glanced around, narrow-eyed. He’d heard the guy say something about failing to kill Erica the first time. Yeah, he wanted a word with that dickhead.
“Jake Nolan!” The amplified voice was badly distorted in a way he recognized as a product of yet another bullhorn. “Hey, Simba! I’ve got your mommy.”
What the fuck? Jake scanned for the source of the sound, seeing nothing but a bunch of injured, exhausted and confused people. There was no sign of his mother at all.
“I’m not joking, kitty. Make some noise, Mom.”
“Oww! Damn it, let go, you bastard!”
“Shit!” Jake exchanged a look with Erica as his heart lurched. “That’s Mom.” In the depths of his mind, Clarence roared as his exhaustion disappeared in an explosion of adrenaline. The manifestation burst from him again, sweeping him up and enclosing him in a glowing four-legged leonine cocoon.
Around him, cops turned, drawing weapons, scanning the area, looking for the source of the voice. Over the radio, Gable growled, “Nolan, what the hell he’s talking about?”
Jake grabbed his handset. “He says he snatched my mother.”
“Shit.”
“I’m not joking, Nolan,” the kidnapper called. “You’d better get your magical ass over here, or Mom’s gonna have issues.”
“I’d bet money that’s the Arc asshole who engineered all this,” Erica said in a grim, low voice.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!”
“Damn it, stop!” Diane snapped, her Familiars adding a canine snarl to her voice. A chorus of furious barks sounded as if she were trying to manifest. She didn’t use her dog form often -- it was nowhere near as strong as his -- but when she did, you knew she was pissed.
“Watch it, bitch, or I’ll feed you a bullet!”
Diane made a high, pained sound.
Shit. Canine manifestations were too small to provide bulletproofing; their magic just wasn’t strong enough. Mom wouldn’t be able to keep the bastard from shooting her.
Ignoring the alarmed exclamations from the crowd, Jake sprang into a trot, headed in the direction of the kidnapper’s voice. It seemed to be coming from the hillside that bordered the park in a natural amphitheater. Several granite outcrops protruded from the hill like fingers, providing convenient spots for an audience to perch or picnic. His eyes narrowed, focusing on one rock that had to be twenty feet tall. If he were an assassin, that’s where he’d be. Great view from there.
The outcrop appeared empty, but with an Arc, that didn’t mean much.
From the corner of one eye, he saw Kurt loping beside him, Erica and Gen on his right, running to keep up. Off to either side, more cops moved cautiously after them.
“Better get a move on, Simba,” the kidnapper called. “You don’t want me to get bored and put a bullet in Mommy’s head.”
“Jake!” Erica stared up at the hillside. “There’s a weird magical shape up on that big outcrop. I think it’s somebody under a camouflage blanket.”
“A what?” Genevieve asked, as Kurt cursed.
“Bends visible light like a Spook Suit. The military used ‘em during the war to hide gun emplacements.”
Slowing, Jake closed his eyes, staring at the outcropping. An odd, lumpy shape appeared to hover in midair about twenty feet up. It didn’t look like a shrouded weapon, and it seemed to be moving, “What the fuck is that?”
Erica was right -- it did look like a spelled blanket with someone struggling underneath. The odd shape that protruded from it was probably the head and shoulders of an Arcanist wearing a Spook Suit. Bastard must be standing behind his mother, using her as a shield.
“Nolan, give me a vowel,” Gable demanded over the radio.
Erica triggered her handset. “I think that’s the Arcanist who’s behind all this. He’s got a hostage.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that part,” the sheriff said dryly. “Let’s try not to get anybody killed. Back ‘em up, officers, but nobody open fire until you can see what the hell you’re shooting at.”
Kurt veered closer, until the Ferals’ manifestations trotted shoulder to magical shoulder. Voice low, he muttered, “You can almost see the giant neon sign hanging over his head: ‘this
is a trap.’”
“Goddamnit, I know that,” Jake snapped. “But he’s got my mother.”
The sheriff’s voice rang out over the bullhorn. “Let the woman go! There’s no way you’re getting out of this. We will shoot you if you don’t turn her loose.”
“And sacrifice the hero’s mother in front of all these cameras?” He laughed, the sound grating and mechanical. “Besides, you can’t even see us.”
The four Talents slowed to a walk as they approached the base of the outcropping, all too aware of the danger of running head-on into a MEED. Glancing back, Jake saw some of the cops herding people out of the line of fire, while others melted into the trees, seeking cover they could shoot from.
Meanwhile the four of them stood here like targets. At least he and Kurt were bulletproof.
“Take cover between us,” Kurt told Gen and Erica, evidently realizing the problem at the same time he did. “Crouch down.”
As the two women obeyed, Jake asked, “So if this is a trap, where is it and what is it?”
“I can’t quite tell.” Erica sounded pained, uncertain. She probably had a savage headache from the magic she’d already used. Did she even have juice to disable whatever trap this fucker had created?
Kurt murmured, “Should we have the sheriff bring the bomb suit?”
“I don’t think it’s a bomb. I’m not seeing any sign of wiring or mechanical parts. The only magic I see is the blanket. Trouble is, that thing’s so bright I might not be able to make out other nearby spells.” She glanced at Genevieve, whose eyes were closed as if she, too, was trying to scan for magic. “You see anything?”
“Nada. That blanket really is bright.”
“I’m starting to get bored,” the Arc called.
With that, Jake’s mother appeared out of thin air, blinking and dazed, as if he’d jerked the blanket off her. “Let me go, you bastard!” She jerked as if fighting an invisible hold.
Closing his eyes, Jake saw the glowing figure of a man standing with one arm wrapped around the smaller glowing figure that was Diane. The Arc’s other hand held something pressed against her head. Probably a gun, also hidden by the Spook Suit’s camouflage field.
Arcane Heart (Talents Book 2) Page 27
