The Unlikely Heroes

by Sarah Noffke

  “So you’re saying that Peggy’s and Paul’s deaths were…”

  Liv sucked in a breath. He didn’t know. Of course, he didn’t. She nodded. “Yes, we believe so.”

  Ireland looked out the kitchen window, suddenly seeming lost.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Your cat, his name is Harry, right?” Liv asked.

  He nodded.

  “How long have you had him?”

  Ireland glanced at the ceiling, his eyes screwed up in concentration like he was computing. “I guess it would have been…oh, well, I remember. It was when book one came out. So that would have been about twenty-three years ago.”

  Liv froze. She didn’t need any more proof. Cats didn’t live that long naturally. “Where is Harry?”

  Ireland pointed to the backyard. “Outside catching mice, probably.”

  Liv was about to start for the door when shouting in the main room made her halt. She reflexively held Ireland back when he started for the commotion. Of course, he’d try to help when danger was present. That was what the Mortal Seven did. They were fierce. They protected. They kept the balance.

  She yanked him around so he was looking straight at her. “Ireland, I’m Liv Beaufont, a Warrior for the House of Fourteen.”

  “Why do I know that name?” he asked.

  “Besides that it’s been on the news a lot lately?” she asked as the commotion in the living room grew louder.

  “I don’t watch the news,” he stated. “I prefer to read.”

  Of course, he did. “I work for the governing body for magic, and I believe you and Harry are very important in helping us protect mortals and magic. But first, I need to keep you safe.”

  Ireland resisted her attempts to keep him back as more noise sounded from the front room. She shook her head. “I’ll take care of that.”

  “You’ll protect my family?” he asked, fear rising in his eyes.

  She uncovered Bellator, which was under her cloak. “I promise,” she said.

  Ireland backed up a few inches. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  Liv nodded. “I’ll explain, but not now. I need you to get Harry. Don’t get out of his sight.”

  “Don’t you mean, don’t allow him out of mine?” Ireland asked.

  Liv shook her head. “No, he’s the one who will keep you alive. Go find him, then go home, and don’t leave until I come to you.”

  “My home is my shop,” he said, slipping a card out of his pocket and handing it to her.

  Liv eyed it briefly, memorizing the address before turning the card to ash in her hands.

  Ireland’s eyes widened with shock. “Harry isn’t normal, is he?”

  “No, he’s not,” Liv answered.

  “And that’s why you came after me, isn’t it? To find Harry?” Ireland asked.

  “No, I came after Harry to find you. He’s incredible, and soon you’ll see that, but he’s your cat because you, Ireland, are extraordinary.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Only once Liv had determined that Ireland had gotten away with Harry did she turn her attention to the chaos going on in the living room. With Bellator in hand she ran for the area, which was congested with Reynolds’ family members. They were all backed up against the wall, staring at a crazy-eyed Spencer Sinclair. He appeared to be crumbling on one side as he revolved in a hunched position, scanning the faces in the crowd.

  “Spencer?” Liv asked, urging the family members to duck behind her.

  The illusion of the Warrior spun to face her with a long machete in his hand, like the last time she’d fought him. Half his face was missing. It had crumbled like a half-burned log in the face, making for a gruesome sight.

  Trinity Reynolds launched a crystal vase from the corner of the room. “Take another one, you heathen!”

  The vase knocked into his free hand, turning it to ash at once, making it disintegrate in the wind that came in through an open window.

  “Yeah, you think you can come after us?” the woman with the purse dog yelled. “We won’t be hunted the way you did to Paul and Peggy!”

  And here I thought I was coming to protect them, Liv thought, watching as the Reynolds’ family all picked up knick-knacks and china bowls, ready to launch them at the strange illusion they had surrounded.

  Liv was about to go after Ireland when she noticed a figure she recognized streaking through the yard. It was another, identical figure of Spencer Sinclair. But how could that be if the illusion was there in front of her?

  Liv ducked out of the living room and raced to the backyard. She was certain the Reynoldses could safely take care of the illusion, but if the man in the center of Trinity Reynolds’ living room was an illusion, did that mean the one sprinting through the yard was real? And did that make him a bad guy? Too many questions wrestled in Liv’s head at once. She didn’t know what was real or fake anymore. She didn’t know who the real enemy was or how to find them. And more than anything, she worried that she’d go after the wrong person.

  What if the guy racing across the backyard, going in the direction she’d sent Ireland, was the real Spencer Sinclair? What if he was good? Maybe he was there to assist, sent by the council? Should she stop him or help him since he was a fellow Warrior?

  She didn’t know. All Liv had was Bellator in her hand and the confidence that it would be her moral compass since she currently didn’t know who to trust.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Once she was in the backyard, it was clear that Spencer was after Ireland. Liv briefly caught a glimpse of the back of Ireland’s head as he climbed over a fence, Harry in tow. The Warrior charged, moving his arms to try to increase his speed.

  “Spencer!” Liv yelled, hoping the real person would stop. She was wrong, or he couldn’t hear her. He cleared the fence much easier than Ireland. At this pace, he’d have the mortal and his cat in no time. Since Liv didn’t know whether he was a bad guy or a good one at this point, she couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Using a complex spell, she enchanted her feet, making her move in a blur, clearing the long yard between her and the fence in seconds. She sprang up like a cat, leaping easily over the fence.

  Spencer was only a few feet from Ireland, who was sprinting, but not moving very fast since he was holding onto his cat. Well, and being a mortal slowed him down greatly.

  “Spencer!” Liv yelled again.

  This time he had to have heard her because he turned around. Even Ireland did, briefly slowing them both down. Liv used this opportunity to speed up, halting when she was in front of the other Warrior. Ireland, who appeared very savvy about this situation, kept running, heading for a bus stop on the opposite side of the road.

  “What are you doing?” Liv asked. Bellator vibrated slightly in her hands, a strange sensation that reminded her of ringing on the phone, like it was waiting for an answer.

  “What are you doing?” Spencer fired back, looking over his shoulder at Ireland, who had slowed to a fast walk.

  “I’m going after the Mortal Seven,” Liv stated, studying the figure in front of her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going after the Mortal Seven,” he echoed.

  Liv narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re aware that there is an illusion of you back there?”

  “Are you aware there is an illusion of you back there?” he asked, indicating Trinity Reynolds’ house.

  Could it be possible that there were illusions of all the Warriors running around in this area? Maybe that was part of the plan of whoever was behind this. There were too many unknowns.

  “Why are you here?” Liv asked. “Going after the Mortal Seven is my job.”

  Spencer glanced over his shoulder. Ireland was boarding a bus. He looked back at Liv with a defiant expression. “Going after the Mortal Seven is my job.”

  “Since when?” Liv asked. “I was assigned to track them down.”

  He shook his head. “I was assigned to track them down.”

  Liv f
rowned at the Warrior, trying to determine if he was real. It was hard to tell an illusion from a real person, but she’d also learned recently that it was difficult for skilled magicians to create more than one illusion. Therefore, she reasoned that it was unlikely there would be more than one illusion of Spencer.

  “The council assigned you to track down Ireland?” Liv asked.

  “Ireland,” Spencer repeated, turning for the bus.

  “Right, I’m on the case now. I don’t need your help,” Liv stated, charging past Spencer.

  Her hand flew back like Bellator was caught on something. She wheeled around just as Spencer was launching a punch at her face. Liv brought Bellator up, feeling the sword pulse in her hands. It was hungry. She wasn’t sure if she was reading it right, but the sword wanted to take Spencer out.

  Liv ducked, neatly avoiding being hit. Momentum brought Spencer forward.

  Onlookers were now watching. Briefly, she caught Ireland’s wide eyes as he stared out the window of the bus.

  Liv threw her foot into Spencer’s hip, knocking him farther forward. He caught himself before eating pavement. With a deep, angry scowl, he whipped around.

  “What are you doing?” Liv asked between ragged breaths.

  “What are you doing?” he countered, hunched over, his hands flexing as he side-stepped.

  “Trying to stop you from harming the Mortal Seven,” Liv answered, unsure why she was having a conversation with this warrior in front of mortals in Brighton. She just didn’t know what to believe. Should she strike Spencer, who didn’t appear to be all that great of a fighter, probably killing him? What if he wasn’t an illusion? What if he was truly a Warrior? How would she cope with killing one of her own? How would she explain that to the House?

  “You’re trying to harm the Mortal Seven,” Spencer countered.

  Liv straightened. “No, I’m not, Spencer. I’m here to help—”

  The bus took off, and as it did, Spencer ran, like he could catch it and jump aboard. A car speeding through the intersection screeched to a halt as Spencer ran in front of it. He barely made it past without getting hit. Liv wasn’t as fortunate. Feeling dragged by Bellator, she rolled over the top of the sedan, falling to the pavement on the other side.

  She jumped to her feet to find Spencer with his hand extended and a strange intensity in his eyes. Turning around, Liv figured out what he was about to do. With Bellator leading the way, she brought the sword up and slashed in a swift movement before Spencer could make the bus explode.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The crowd that had gathered around the square gasped as the sword swept cleanly through the illusion of Spencer. He gave Liv a blank expression, like that of a robot being powered down.

  She knew exactly what had happened, but it was clear from the irate shouting that the mortals watching didn’t.

  Spencer was, in fact, an illusion. She knew it now. Soon everyone else would too. Or at least, hopefully, the mortals would realize he wasn’t a real person and she hadn’t just murdered him in broad daylight.

  “Miss!” a police officer yelled, striding over.

  Liv shook her head as she looked around. Whoever was controlling the illusion might be close by. She had to find them. Maybe it was the real Spencer, or maybe there wasn’t a real Spencer, which meant Liv didn’t know who she was looking for.

  “Miss!” the police officer yelled again. “Drop the sword and put your hands in the air!”

  Liv could hear the soles of his boots clapping on the pavement as he approached from the side. She was still standing in front of Spencer. He was frozen, only a small split between his top and bottom half where the sword had cut. Soon he would turn to ash and blow away, but it was taking longer than the last time, which was making her look like a madwoman.

  She sheathed Bellator when the police officer was nearly on her.

  “I said, drop it!” the man screamed, real fear in his voice.

  Liv held up her hand and pushed wind from her palm. It hit Spencer head-on, making him disintegrate fleck by fleck until he was distorted, a strange ashen figure. One more gust of wind made him disappear.

  Thinking that she’d proven her point, Liv turned to the police officer. “See, he wasn’t real.”

  “Look what that magician did!” someone yelled at her back.

  “She killed him!” a man screamed.

  “She turned him to ash!” another person said.

  Liv shook her head as the crowd surrounded. Their angry faces filled her with regret and confusion. She’d stopped Spencer. He was an illusion. But she was about to be tried and hanged for something the mortals viewed as a crime. There would be no reasoning with them. They’d seen what they thought was a murder.

  There was only one thing left for her. She had to save herself and get to Ireland. Liv created a portal. It shimmered, blinding many of the closest mortals.

  Just as the police officer was lunging for her, Liv dove through the portal, closing it before she could be followed.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The real Kayla Sinclair had been knocked to the cobblestones when her illusion of Spencer was destroyed. It always incapacitated her for a bit when it happened against her will. She’d known Olivia Beaufont was going to destroy the illusion, even though she’d used the repeating spell to try to throw the girl off. It hadn’t worked.

  But Kayla had hoped that she could have held her off long enough to blow up the bus with Ireland Reynolds and his chimera. That hadn’t worked either. Olivia had sliced through the illusion before Kayla had completed the explosion spell.

  She pushed upright, blinking to clear her vision after passing out. Kayla had probably only been out for less than a minute. However, that had been enough time for the bus to speed away with one of the Mortal Seven on it—or at least, Olivia Beaufont seemed to think he was one of them. Kayla’s other illusion of Spencer hadn’t been successful at killing any more of the Reynoldses at the wake.

  The whacked-out family members had destroyed the illusion, also setting Kayla back. She could do what few could, producing and controlling several illusions at a time, but it took its toll on her reserves, and when one was destroyed, it knocked her out.

  Kayla glanced down the alley in the direction of Trinity Reynolds’ home. She’d finish that lot off first. That way, if Ireland wasn’t the Mortal Seven, she’d have covered her bases. A family reunion for a funeral was actually perfect. If all the Mortal Seven families could just gather in one place, it would make Kayla’s job much easier.

  She strode toward the house full of strange mortals who all seemed to be able to see magic. Well, they wouldn’t for long. None of them would see much more in this world. Kayla would make sure of that. Then she’d take out Ireland, ensuring that the Mortal Seven were irreversibly incomplete, destroying that part of the House forever.

  Before she came to the end of the alley that spilled into the neighborhood where Trinity Reynolds’ home was located, Kayla closed her eyes, centering her attention on the illusion she had stationed in London.

  In her mind’s eye, she clearly saw the black-haired version of herself. The one most knew Councilor Kayla Sinclair as. They were dull, dim-witted magicians who didn’t realize they’d never met the real Kayla Sinclair. Most never did. Why force yourself to be around other people when you could have an illusion do it?

  Go find Ireland Reynolds. Kill him, Kayla whispered in her mind, sending the order to the illusion.

  It nodded and marched like a soldier toward the bookstore at the end of the block, where Ireland Reynolds would be arriving soon.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The portal spat Liv out in front of a wonderfully quaint bookstore. It was appropriately named Ireland’s Getaway.

  The store window was crammed with old, yellowed paperbacks. Peering through the front, Liv saw that the store was lined with shelves bursting with books of every shape, size, and color. It was a reader’s treasure trove of entertainment. Liv suddenly wished s
he could take the rest of the week off and spend it lounging on the oversized couch in the corner, enjoying a cinnamon scone and reading books in Ireland’s Getaway.

  She sighed, remembering that she had to be the one to get Ireland to safety. When that was done, there would be other Mortal Sevens to rescue, especially since it appeared they were all in mortal danger.

  “Ha! Mortal danger,” Plato said, laughing at Liv’s side.

  She looked at him in disgust. “I bet if you had a hand, you’d be slapping your knee right now while you chuckled.”

  “I might,” he stated.

  “You know, you really should ask for permission first before you invade my head.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Plato asked.

  “Well, I’d feel less like killing you,” she answered.

  The lynx’s laughter stopped abruptly. “Oh, I’d prefer it if you didn’t attack.”

  “You have the lives to spare, right?” Liv asked, mock curiosity in her voice.

  “Why would you ask about that? Did Papa Creola say something?” Plato asked.

  Liv’s forehead wrinkled. “What? No. I mean, he mentioned you. What’s going on, P?”

  He was quiet for a moment before seeming to relax. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  “Nothing? As in, you got into my head and figured out what you needed to know?” Liv asked, putting her hands on her hips.

  “Nooooo,” he said, his eyes drifting to the other side of the road, where an old man was shooing birds off a park bench.

  “Oh, so you mean yes.” Liv turned to face the cat. “Okay, out with it. What’s the secret?”

  “Well, you see, we made a bet, Papa Creola and me. I lost. Now I owe him a half a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough, but I’m currently stretched for cash. You see, my stock portfolio isn’t doing as well as I would have hoped. Don’t buy shares in—”