Where Light Meets Shadow

by Shawna Reppert

  “Is that who I think it is?” Zack asked in an undertone.

  “Yes,” Cass whispered. “And there’s a chance he could recognize me.”

  “Bloody Eric?”

  “I danced with him once,” she confessed.

  Zack just raised an eyebrow. “That’s a story I’ve got to hear someday.”

  If Eric did recognize her, he would be on alert. And if things went poorly they would have a bigger problem than just the missed opportunity to apprehend a dark mage.

  Cass remembered that one dance she’d had with the man. She hadn’t known then what he truly was, any more than she had known Raven’s true agenda, and still something about him made her want to shudder at his touch. After she read his file, she felt the urge to scrub herself raw in a hot shower any time she thought of that waltz.

  William was fond of mayhem and carnage. Raven would not shy from the same if it served his purposes. But for Eric, bloody violence was a religion and he was a most ecstatic celebrant.

  If they tried to capture him here, in a public place, they risked a blood bath. If they did nothing, they missed a chance they might not get again. And everybody would know that Bloody Eric could walk boldly through the streets of Portland and the Guardians could do nothing to stop him.

  Not to mention, whatever brought Eric to Crossroads, it was not likely a desire to take in the music or the atmosphere.

  She caught the lieutenant’s eye. He nodded. The operation was still a go.

  Eric and his protégé sauntered further into the room. Zack slipped out of their booth and headed toward the door. Cass followed, digging through her purse as though looking for cigarettes. The action gave a plausible reason for their movement toward the door, and an excuse for her to keep her head down.

  They reached the exit just as Jackie cast an anti-teleportation ward over the room to keep the dark mages from escaping. Cass and Zack turned as one, and stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the door.

  Gray stepped away from the bar, toward the dark mages. Eric smiled, raised his hand, and sent magefire streaking, not toward the lieutenant, but toward the unshielded Mundane bartender.

  Civilians screamed, ran, ducked under tables as the lieutenant dived to protect the bartender, taking the hit on his personal shields. He landed hard, tangled in toppled barstools. The protégé’s magefire struck before he had time to recover and defend.

  Confuse-misdirect, attack! Cass’ reaction was swift, instinctual, and effective. Something to draw him away from the lieutenant and from the Mundane bartender. Attack while he was still off-balance.

  Zack’s magefire joined hers a half-second later, strengthening the attack. Eric staggered back, singed even through his powerful shields.

  Magic and adrenaline twined in her soul, heady and exhilarating. She struck again, and Eric fell back against a table with the impact.

  Jackie would be out of the fight— the anti-teleport ward was her specialty, but it was an exhausting magic. Her partner’s spell-lightning flashed against the protégé’s shields, once and twice. The lieutenant got to his feet and hit Eric with an impressive volley of magefire.

  Clearly hurting, Eric looked frantically from Guardian to Guardian. He couldn’t have planned on finding himself outnumbered two-to-one when he stepped out for an evening of mayhem. He would need only a moment’s clear focus to rid himself of the confuse-misdirect. They weren’t about to give him that moment.

  Zack’s magefire joined hers again, blistering Eric though his weakened shields.

  “Bryan, the ward!” Eric shouted.

  Eric’s protégé closed his eyes in concentration. Cass felt the teleportation ward shudder and give way. Eric faded out and was gone. The ward snapped back into place, and Bryan stood alone among the Guardians, panting with exertion, eyes wild with fear.

  Cass regarded the young man with some amount of reluctant admiration. Raven had taught her how to open a hole in a teleportation ward, but it was not a common skill, nor one easily mastered. And Bryan had willingly stranded himself to win Eric’s freedom.

  Blivy’s Paradox said that one could not simultaneously hold open a teleportation ward and teleport oneself.

  The loyal little idiot held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

  The lieutenant nodded to Jackie. She and her partner stepped up, one on either side of the protégé, and grabbed the man by his arms. Bryan stiffened and paled. He had to have expected the magic-dampening charm effected by their touch, but no mage could truly prepare for the terrifying and disorienting reality of being cut off from magic.

  Jackie let the teleportation ward drop. She and her partner teleported away with their prisoner. Safer to teleport than to invite a rescue attempt in the time it took to use another mode of transport, and all Guardians had enough familiarity with Guardian Central to make such a short-distance transport easily, especially with two Guardians to share the burden of the prisoner.

  The burnt-match smell of magefire and the thunderstorm scent of spell lightning filled the room. The lieutenant slumped back against the bar, pain writ clear on his face. The V of his unbuttoned collar revealed blistered and reddened skin where the heat of magefire had made it through his shields. When the adrenalin wore off, he’d be in a world of hurt.

  Cass went to his side. “Sir, are you all right?”

  “Mostly,” he replied. “And mostly thanks to you. Brilliant bit of creative spellwork today. What gave you the idea to piggy-back a confusion spell with a misdirection?”

  Raven had taught her. It was his own invention.

  Cass shrugged. “I improvised.”

  She held her breath, waiting for his reaction. Nothing she’d done today had been dark, but nothing that wasn’t time-honored could quite be trusted in her world. Small wonder they’d had so little success in combating William.

  “Good job, Greensdowne.”

  It was the first time she’d gotten a compliment from a superior officer. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Care to improvise some healing, here?” Gray gave her a faint smile. “I hear you’re fairly good at it.”

  Cass, in fact, had been top of her class on the Healer’s Aptitude test as well as the Guardian’s Aptitude Test and could have gone to either academy. But that had been years ago. Her only formal training, apart from some basic field healing and some tricks Raven had shown her, ended with General Academy. She felt her shoulders straighten. “Sir, shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”

  “Later. Just patch me up enough that I can make nice with the Mundanes and the Craft.”

  She finally noticed the frightened, murmuring crowd huddled at the far end of the dance floor. A siren wailed in the distance. Someone had called the Mundane cops.

  At least they hadn’t gotten there before the situation was under control. The Guardians would have to cross-file reports anyway, since the incident involved Mundanes and Craft as well, at least as witnesses. But every now and then cops forgot that guns and magic didn’t mix, bystanders got shot, the Art got blamed, and the Joint Council got unhappy.

  Even though Eric had escaped, they had got off lightly. Eric had been startled and unprepared. The evening could have turned out way, way worse than it had. Now they only had to convince the press and the Mundane cops of that.

  Cass closed her eyes, took a few deep, centering breaths, and found the gentle, sweet light of healing magic deep within her core. So different from the blazing bright fire of battle magic, yet intoxicating in its own way, it calmed the last of the fight-or-flight rush in her blood.

  She laid her hands gently over the lieutenant’s injuries, and let the healing flow into him, easing the pain of his injuries and starting the healing process.

  “Good enough, for now,” the lieutenant said after a moment.

  She loved the after-effects of healing. It left her tired, yes, but it was a good tired, a peaceful tired. She might need that calmness when their Mundane colleagues arrived.

  Sure enough, the Mundane police
burst in with guns drawn.

  Gray took charge. “It’s all right, stand down. We got it under control, dark mage’s in custody. Your department will be getting the full report in the morning.”

  “Gray.” One of the uniformed men saluted briefly. “Stand down, guys.” He raised a hand and turned back to the lieutenant. “Care to explain what’s going on here?”

  The band, gods bless them, followed the ancient law of musiciandom— music continued as contracted so long as there was no imminent threat of bodily harm. They started into a soft, soothing ballad that helped calm and distract the crowd.

  “Listen, Stone,” Gray said. “Maybe we should take this somewhere more private?”

  The blonde bartender was only too glad to let them continue their discussion in the Crossroads’ business office. By the way she now looked at Gray, Cass suspected her lieutenant might be getting lucky after all.

  Zack and the other Mundane cop were assigned to get statements from the crowd, which left Cass to follow Gray.

  In the brighter lighting of the office, Stone finally recognized her.

  “Good god, is that really Corwyn Ravenscroft’s— apprentice?” The way he said ‘apprentice’ implied another word entirely. “You expect me to talk in front of her?”

  “Cassandra Greensdown was Raven’s apprentice, yes.” Gray nodded grimly. “She’s also the one who gave us the information to finally put out a warrant on the bastard.”

  The lieutenant was defending her? Gratitude surged through her. Gray’d probably get hell for it later. The captain agreed with the Mundane police.

  “Little good it did you.” Stone’s lip curled. “Three years and he’s still snug and safe with William. You haven’t touched him yet, either.”

  “If your people think you can do a better job bringing them in, be my guest.” Gray gave Stone a cool look. “The attacks on Mundane civilians are meant to destabilize the Three Communities. Arguing among ourselves is just playing into William’s plan.”

  “And your little Guardian would know about William’s plan, wouldn’t she?” Stone’s lip curled. “Tell me, is she screwing you like she screwed Raven?”

  Cass grabbed her lieutenant before he could go after Stone. Too bad she couldn’t let him hit the bastard but it would make the situation even worse. Was Gray offended for her sake or his own? Best not ask questions she didn’t want answered.

  Stone was just scared, she told herself as Gray stood beside her, breathing hard. William’s plan was working all too well. Mundanes knew his agenda, knew they would be effectively disenfranchised under it, and it made some of them wary of all mages. William was determined to show everyone that nobody could protect the Three Communities from him, should his right to rule not be acknowledged. If she had to swallow her pride to defeat him, so be it. “Sir, if it makes things easier, I can go help Zack.”

  Gray nodded. “Go then.”

  “Your aunt may be a hero of the last Mage Wars,” Stone said to her back. “But you will never be anything more than a dark mage’s flavor-of-the-week. Doesn’t matter that your aunt got the rest of the Joint Council to intervene on your behalf. You’ll never be trusted here, Greensdowne.”

  “What happened?” Zack asked her when she joined him.

  “The usual. I’m so damned sick of—”

  The nearest civilians looked over. She hadn’t realized she’d been that loud.

  “You should ask the captain for reassignment,” she continued in a lowered voice. “You’re never going to get to work on anything of worth so long as you’re partnered with me.”

  Zack shook his head. “Why would I want another partner? I’ve already got one of the most talented mages of our generation. Easy on the eyes, too.”

  She felt herself flush. “It’s not my talent that’s in question.”

  “I know.” Zack took a sip from his beer. “It’ll get better.”

  Cass nodded, too grateful for his sympathy to argue despite her doubts of his optimistic assessment.

  II

  It was nearly two in the morning before they were done taking statements and soothing the ruffled nerves of the bar owner who arrived shortly after the police. Zack offered to walk her home.

  “And who will walk you home?” She arched an eyebrow at him.

  Zack conceded the point. In terms of magic she was the stronger of the two of them, and they both knew it.

  She stepped out of the noisy, too-warm bar and into the cool autumn night. Soft, warm rain misted her face, welcome on her flushed skin. White-trimmed brick houses lined the street, bouncing echoes from each step of her boots. A slight breeze rustled the leaves scattered along the sidewalk. Cass breathed deep, filling her lungs with the wild, sweet scent of fall. She could hear the hum of the Mundanes’ cars on the distant highway.

  It was only a block to her flat, too close to waste the energy of teleporting after the night she’d had.

  It was late to be a woman walking alone through an empty street, but she lived in a good neighborhood. And as she told Zack, she could take care of herself.

  She had been more cautious the first year after she left Raven, afraid William would target her. Or that Raven would, although she could not quite make herself believe he’d do that, even then. But they had not come after her.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted.

  She reached the Victorian façade of her own building and turned down the narrow alley to the side door that led to her flat. She dug in her purse for the keys to the exterior security door.

  “Cassandra.” The black velvet voice came out of the shadows; for a moment she thought that it had come from her memory.

  What was that old story they’d told each other as girls to scare each other at slumber parties? The one about the demon that appeared when you spoke his name? Except she hadn’t said it out loud.

  Corwyn Ravenscroft. Raven.

  He glided forward. She stood, frozen in place. He looked much the same as he had when she’d last seen him, collar-length hair framing his face in long, black waves, a face that might have seemed too delicate were not the high, fragile cheekbones set off by a long, raptor’s nose and onyx eyes. He stood close enough now that she could catch the scent on his fine-cut black clothes, the long wool coat, unbuttoned, that would swirl if he turned sharply, the loosely pleated poet’s shirt that might look feminine on another man.

  The scent was familiar: smoky-musky and spicy-sweet with hints of sandalwood and myrrh, the scent of the incense they had used as a focus when they worked together. Her breath caught in her throat. She had forgotten how elegant he was, how handsome. She hated him now for her body’s visceral reaction to his voice, his presence.

  “A moment of your time, if I may.”

  Polite, Raven was always polite, but then so was William, his master. Chillingly polite.

  “I gave you three years of my life,” she said. “I would think that was more than enough.”

  She stepped closer to the door, but she still did not have her keys to hand, and she would not take her eyes off him to look for them. Not that she really feared him, but she knew that she should.

  Her heart pounded wildly but not in fear. She could not put a name to the stomach-churning whirl of confused adrenalin that gripped her, but it wasn’t fear.

  “You are bitter, my Firecat. You have every reason to be.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “You have no right.”

  A better Guardian might have attempted an arrest, but she knew too well their relative strengths. At the least, she should leave.

  She had fought for three years to live down her past. If she were seen with Raven, any headway she’d made would be destroyed.

  The wind gusted, and now that she was no longer walking, the rain felt less pleasant. She shivered.

  Though she was exhausted, teleportation was a simple enough magic if one was as familiar with the end point as she was her flat. And he’d never been there, so he would not be able
to follow unless she willingly let him use her as an anchor.

  Still she stayed, held by his eyes, his voice, her memories.

  “I’ve wronged you.” He took a deep breath. “And I’ve done worse to so many, in William’s name.”

  Ye gods. She could count on one hand the number of times he’d ever admitted he was wrong about something— one hand, with fingers left over.

  “I want out, Cassandra,” he continued. “I need your help.”

  The tension of the moment combined with the ridiculousness of hearing these words from Corwyn Ravenscroft. Laughter bubbled up from her chest, and escaped her pressed lips.

  Clearly, this was not the reaction he expected. His shoulders stiffened, and he drew himself up.

  “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I don’t mean to laugh at you. But really,” she continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “Was this William’s idea, or yours? Because I honestly thought you had at least some respect for my intelligence.”

  He frowned. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Did you expect me to?”

  She glanced down the alley. Still empty, except for mist, and two dumpsters, one for garbage, one for recycling, fresh-painted and neatly labeled by the building super. In the quiet night she would have heard anyone approaching, but she still had to check. Cass couldn’t say what she was checking for. A trap from his side? Someone from her side, to see her talking to Raven? Either would be dangerous in different ways.

  “If you were telling the truth— and I don’t for a minute think you are— why come to me?”

  He took a step toward her. “Because you are the only Guardian whose integrity I trust. And because you were the only one who believed that I could be other than my father’s son.”

  “The more fool I.” Her aunt had believed, too, but Cass would not impugn Ana by mentioning it.

  Raven held out a hand, like a drowning man begging for a lifeline. “You believed in me once. I need you to believe in me again.”

  “I need to forget I ever met you. Looks like neither of us is going to get what we need.”

  “Cassandra, you are the only chance I have. Please, I have something to help your side, if you will but speak for me.”