License to Spell_An Urban Fantasy Novel

by Paige Howland

  The water churned below, the current fast and strong. Merrick’s jaw worked, anger sparking in his eyes. I could practically see him flipping through his mental rolodex of spells, weighing the risks of how fast he could cast versus how fast I could simply let go. Finally, he said, “Very well, little witch. Give me the necklace and I swear on the goddess I will let your partner live.”

  “And Alec?”

  “He will meet a swift death.”

  “How is that any different than the deal you offered me before?”

  “Before I planned to kill all of you. But Alexander’s death would have lasted a long, long time. Trust me when I tell you you have succeeded in bargaining for more than I ever thought I’d give.”

  I swallowed hard. When I spoke, my voice held more steel than I could have hoped for. “Alec goes free or no deal.”

  Merrick’s eyes flashed. “No deal. Drop the necklace. I will kill your partner and the wolf, and then I’ll find the necklace. I will lose time, but I will find it.”

  The thing is, he was probably right. The pull of the necklace’s magic was too strong to allow it to remain lost forever. I glanced at Alec, who whispered something to the guard next to him. The guard’s eyes widened and shifted to Merrick, while mine went to the ground at their feet. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought the grass near Alec’s shoes shifted. Maybe it was hopeful thinking. Or the wind. Or a mouse. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a pint-sized golem shuffling to the rescue.

  Fingers crossed, because magic sparked at Merrick’s fingertips, and the look in his eyes said he was about to try to take the necklace by magical force, screw the consequences.

  I’d stalled as long as I could.

  “Okay,” I said agreeably. “The necklace for Ryerson.”

  “Done.” Merrick held out his hand.

  I shook my head. “Nuh-uh. We’re doing this my way. Leave Ryerson. Have your men walk to the other end of the street. Once they’re there, I’ll give you the necklace.”

  Merrick’s jaw ticked, but he nodded sharply. His men moved back, taking Alec with them, and I swallowed the knot of worry that rose in my throat.

  Goddess, I hoped this worked.

  I hurried to Ryerson. He was just starting to wake up, and I helped him to his feet. He leaned against me heavily, which wasn’t a good sign. For this plan to work, he needed to be able to move.

  “Can you run?” I whispered.

  “Think so,” he grunted, and then pressed a hand to his ribs with a wince.

  Good enough. I flicked my hand. The necklace sailed over the railing and the street and tangled in the high branches of an oak tree.

  “Go!” I shoved Ryerson ahead of me. He stumbled and then stopped short, staring up at the tree.

  “Is that—”

  “Move!” I pushed him again.

  “Kill them!” roared Merrick, and the pissed-off mage stormed toward the tree.

  Ryerson tore his gaze from the tree and we ran, half of Merrick’s thugs hot on our heels.

  “Do you have a plan?” Ryerson asked.

  “This is mostly it.”

  “Mostly?”

  “Backup is on its way.” Maybe.

  A bullet cut through the air between us, and by silent agreement, the new plan involved less talking, more running. More gunfire exploded around us. Ryerson grabbed my hand, yanking us off the street and toward the riverbank. We skidded down a steep embankment and ran along a narrow path of mud and dirt and rocks toward a bridge. When we reached it, Ryerson pushed me behind one of the steel girders.

  “Stay here,” he said and grabbed a long, thick tree branch from the water’s edge. There weren’t many places to hide, but the streetlights didn’t reach down here and the darkness was thick and cloying. Ryerson slipped past me to stand against a steel support beam, tucking himself into the shadows until he was practically invisible. He stood perfectly still, waiting.

  Merrick’s guys made their way along the embankment, dark menacing shadows creeping closer and closer. The first one stepped even with the support beam. He didn’t see Ryerson until it was too late. Ryerson stepped from the shadows and whipped the heavy branch into the man’s back. The thug went down hard and stayed there.

  One down, five to go, and Ryerson had lost the element of surprise.

  Bullets ricocheted off the metal bridge beams. Ryerson grunted and then darted forward, sweeping his branch in a brutal arc that flattened two more bad guys. The man moved like he was born to fight.

  But he was hurt and tiring fast. The three remaining shadows circled him. All of them had guns, while Ryerson held a stick. He’d proven he was bloody good with the stick, but it was still just a stick.

  One of them raised his gun. I didn’t think. Just traced a rune in the air, swept it at the gunman’s back and raised my hands. His legs flew out from under him and he jerked into the air, like a marionette whose strings had just been yanked.

  Goddess, he was heavy.

  He hung suspended upside down, a few feet above the ground, and it was all I could do to keep him there. His friends glanced at him in surprise, and it was all the distraction Ryerson needed. While he engaged the last two, my guy swung his gun wildly, aiming at shadows. My arms shook with strain and I grunted with effort. The man’s gaze—and his gun—swung toward me.

  Uh-oh.

  I yelped and dropped my arms. The guy’s shot went wide as he landed in a heap of tangled limbs. He recovered quickly and re-aimed. The next moment a blur of fur and claws and teeth crashed into him, and they rolled into the river in a flurry of growls and screams.

  I stepped out from behind the girder. Ryerson had taken care of the last two thugs, but it had cost him. His head hung low, one knee and the fingertips of one hand pressed into the mud. His breathing was heavy. Too heavy.

  I hurried over and knelt in the mud in front of him. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, he looked relieved. Then his gaze flicked past my shoulder and his eyes widened. He was on his feet in an instant, inserting himself between me and the river, his body rigid with tension.

  I ducked under his arm in time to watch a wolf trot out of the river, looking pleased with himself. He eyed Ryerson, and then padded over to me. Ryerson tried to yank me back, but I stepped around him and dropped to my knees. The wolf licked my neck and I stroked his thick, wet fur.

  “Good boy,” I said.

  “Ainsley,” Ryerson said, his voice deceptively soft. “Care to explain what the hell is going on?”

  I gave Wolf Alec’s thick fur one more stroke and then stood and faced Ryerson. “I mentioned we had backup coming, right? Meet backup.”

  22

  Ryerson glared down at me. Wolf Alec trotted off to sniff the dead guys. I wrinkled my nose.

  “We’ve been in this country for three hours,” Ryerson said, dragging my attention back to his stormy eyes. “When did you have time to befriend a wolf, much less train it to kill on command?”

  Um. “That’s not exactly what happened.”

  His frown deepened.

  “You’re going to laugh.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked. He flicked an irritable glance at Wolf Alec, probably to make sure he wasn’t about to eat us, and his eyes widened.

  I followed his gaze to a very human, very naked Alec relieving one of the dead guys of his slacks. Alec looked up and grinned, not at all ashamed to be caught pilfering dead-guy pants.

  Did I mention he was naked?

  Alec reached into one of the dead guy’s pockets and held up a little tin. “Altoid?”

  Ryerson’s arm came around me, tucking my head against his side and blocking my view. Suddenly surrounded by Ryerson’s strong body, the weirdest thing happened. For just a moment, I forgot about naked Alec.

  I breathed his scent in. The hand he’d buried in my hair relaxed, and I decided I could definitely get used to this. Then I felt the faint stirrings of the curse and remembered why I couldn’t. I sighed and pulled away. Then I sighed again when I looked up to find Al
ec already wearing cargo pants and pulling a black t-shirt over his head.

  It was then I realized Ryerson and Alec had been in each other’s presence for a full five minutes, and Ryerson had yet to reach for one of the guns littering the embankment. I didn’t understand why, but it felt like progress. Until Ryerson opened his mouth.

  “I should kill you.”

  “Try,” Alec corrected. “You should try to kill me.”

  At least they were talking.

  Ryerson took a threatening step forward, then ruined the effect by swaying on his feet. Alec frowned.

  My magic reserves were running low and a headache was building behind my eyes, but I drew a quick rune and my light ball flared to life, cutting through the darkness. I sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re bleeding.”

  That was an understatement. The entire left side of Ryerson’s white dress shirt was a deep, wet crimson. As if the attention had somehow made the pain flare, he winced.

  Alec stepped next to me. It earned him a warning glare from Ryerson, which he promptly ignored.

  Alec swore softly. “Bullet still in there?”

  “Think so,” Ryerson said gruffly.

  Alec nodded. “We need to get out of here. Find somewhere to patch you up.”

  Ryerson glared at him. “We don’t need to do anything. You’re a traitor and a murderer.”

  Alec rolled his eyes and turned to me. “We haven’t exactly been quiet tonight. The People’s Security will be here soon. Talk some sense into him and meet me up top.”

  Ryerson glowered at Alec’s back as he walked away.

  “Hey,” I said, dragging those burning green eyes back to me. “We need him.”

  “No.”

  “You’ve been shot,” I reminded him. The words tasted worse than those safe-house energy bars had. “Also, we’re stranded in a hostile foreign country and apparently something called the People’s Security is on their way. I don’t know what that is, but it doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s the North Korean police.”

  I figured. “Look, you and Alec have unresolved issues. I get that. But right now we need his help to make it out of here, and you know it.”

  His jaw ticked and he glared at me, but it lacked heat. In fact, his gaze looked a little unfocused. Then he stumbled to the side. I caught him, settling my shoulder under his good one. The adrenaline must be wearing off. We needed to get out of here before he passed out.

  I waited for the curse to go ballistic, but it just hissed weakly and coiled tighter around Ryerson’s soul. Ryerson sucked in a breath, and I wondered if he felt it.

  In the distance, sirens wailed.

  “They’re playing our song,” Alec called from the street above.

  “I don’t trust him,” Ryerson said.

  “Do you trust me?”

  Ryerson gave me a long look, then glanced away. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  Together, we climbed up the embankment. Ryerson leaned heavily on me and by the time we reached the top we were both out of breath.

  Alec was waiting for us, a strange look on his face. He held out his hand and we learned why. On his palm stood a miniature golem, clay arms crossed and looking generally annoyed.

  “This guy says he’s a friend of yours.”

  Ryerson stared. “When did you possibly have time to make friends?”

  I grinned and held out my hand. The golem looked at it, turned up his nose and gave a tiny “hmph.”

  “I think it’s mad at you,” Alec added helpfully.

  “I’m sorry I left you back there,” I said. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”

  He looked slightly mollified.

  “Do you want to come with us?”

  “Ainsley …” Ryerson warned, but it was too late. The golem jumped happily into my hand and climbed up my arm to settle on the shoulder that wasn’t propping Ryerson up.

  Ryerson shook his head, but a rare smile pulled at his lips. “What am I going to do with you?”

  We stuck to side streets and back alleys as much as we could. Alec tried to take Ryerson’s weight from me, but Ryerson wasn’t having it. So we hobbled along slowly until we reached a small commercial district, with pastel-colored shops and small businesses and the occasional restaurant, all closed for the night.

  Alec jogged ahead, and then came back and led us down an alley to the back entrance of a grimy, nondescript building with a steel door.

  “Locked?” I asked.

  He nodded. Then he glanced up and down the alley, gripped the handle, and

  wrenched it clean off the door.

  I raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.

  “Werewolf blood has its benefits,” he said.

  Clearly.

  Alec held the door and then followed us inside and flipped the light. There were animal runs along one wall and supply shelves along the other. A veterinary clinic.

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  Alec shrugged. “They have medical supplies and the patients won’t ask questions.”

  “They also have sick animals and communicable diseases.”

  Alec nodded at a run with two small shepherd mixes. “And puppies.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Puppies!” Golem said at my ear, delighted, and clapped his hands.

  Clearly I was outnumbered, so I gave up.

  We found an exam room and Alec helped me ease Ryerson into a chair. He rattled off a list of supplies we’d need, and Golem jumped from my shoulder to the countertop to help with the search. Before long, we had a small mountain of medical supplies piled on the exam table.

  Under the stark fluorescent lighting of the exam room, Ryerson looked pale beneath his bruises. His breathing was shallow. Alec filled a syringe with liquid from a small bottle with a metal cap and moved toward Ryerson. Ryerson caught his forearm. “No drugs.”

  “Come on,” Alec said, “don’t be an idiot.”

  “No drugs,” Ryerson repeated and closed his eyes against the pain.

  “Why the hex not?” I asked.

  Alec shook his head. “Because he doesn’t trust me, and because we’re in the middle of a mission and he doesn’t want to be compromised.” To Ryerson, he said, “You know this is going to hurt like hell without anesthetic, right?”

  Ryerson gave a sharp nod. Alec sighed and traded the syringe for a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

  “No,” Ryerson said. “Not you. Have Ainsley do it.”

  I whipped my head around. “What? No way. Nuh-uh.”

  “Come on, man,” Alec said. “We don’t have time for this. Ainsley doesn’t know how to do this, and you’re already refusing anesthetic. Don’t be stupid.”

  “You’re not coming near me. Ainsley does it, or we don’t do this at all,” he gritted out.

  Alec’s jaw ticked. “Fine. You want to be an idiot, that’s fucking fine with me.” He turned to me and said, “It’s going to be fine. I’ll walk you through it.”

  It didn’t feel fine. “Ryerson, I—”

  “You’ll do great,” he said. “I trust you.”

  He trusted me. Well, hex it. It was the one thing he could have said to make me change my mind. I blew out a long breath and held out my hand, like the TV surgeons do. “Forceps.”

  Ryerson eyed me warily. “I take it back.”

  Alec grinned and nodded at Ryerson. “You need to take off that shirt first.”

  Oh. Right.

  His dress shirt was wet with blood and sweat and molded to his chest. I released the buttons, my fingers only shaking slightly, to reveal a slick, muscled chest covered in a light dusting of hair and then bruised, ridged abs. The bullet hole was just below his left shoulder. I spread his shirt, and Alec handed me an industrial-sized bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

  “Pour it over the wound,” he said.

  I did.

  “Now’s the tricky part,” Alec said as he handed me the forceps. They looked like long tweezers. “Ease the forceps into the wound. Gently. That�
��s it. Do you feel something hard and metal?”

  It had to hurt. Ryerson clenched his jaw, but he didn’t make a sound.

  “This is so unsanitary,” I said, mostly to distract from the way my hands shook. “There’s a reason people do this kind of thing at the hospital. There are a million diseases you could get. Infections. Sepsis …”

  “It’s okay, Ainsley,” Ryerson gritted out. “I’m okay. Keep going. Just hurry.”

  I gave a shaky nod and moved the forceps slowly around. Ryerson grit his teeth and grunted. The forceps touched something hard. Solid.

  “I think I found it.”

  “Good,” Alec said. “Now pull it out. Gently.”

  I did. The bullet was slightly misshapen. My hands shook so hard I dropped it, and the forceps. They clattered against the tile floor.

  “Good job,” Alec said approvingly. “You’re halfway there.”

  My head snapped up. “What do you mean, halfway?”

  “Now you have to stitch him up.”

  Crap in a cauldron.

  “It’ll be fine,” Alec said. “Come here. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Ryerson’s eyes narrowed. Alec rolled his eyes and wagged a needle and a tattered stuffed dog toy at him. “She’s nervous, Ry. Let the girl breathe a minute. We’re just going to practice. Unless you want me to do it.”

  Ryerson glared at him a moment more, then leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  I got up and followed Alec to the other side of the room.

  “He’s really pissed at you,” I said.

  “Yeah, well the feeling is mutual,” Alec said.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Like hex it didn’t. “Alec—”

  “We don’t have much time,” he said. “Look, I just wanted to tell you to be careful, okay?”

  “I’m always careful.”

  He shook his head. “No, not like that. There’s something going on. Something within the CIA. I’m working on figuring out what it is. Just … keep your eyes out, okay?”

  “Alec, you’re scaring me.”

  He stroked my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear, and smiled softly. “I miss your freckles.” His gaze shifted to the leather band at my wrist, and his expression softened. “Maybe when all this is over, we can go to dinner or something. Just you and me.”