by K. F. Breene
“We can’t stick around under that,” I said to Emery, who grabbed a guy by the head, cracked his neck, and magically shot someone else.
“I know. Skirt the outside of the group. Keep them in the middle. They’re tired and scared. Let them cower together.”
A fierce snarl dragged my attention to the front of the line, where a single man stood opposite a very large lion. The mage, wearing a long, flowing robe and tall, silly hat, snatched a casing out of his satchel and fired it off.
Steve lurched forward, all teeth and claws and shifter magic, eating the spell or cutting through it, and slammed into the mage. A bear lumbered after him, opening its mouth wide and roaring at the mages at the front of the line.
“Penny!” Emery shouted.
I spun around, following the direction of Emery’s pointed finger. The red fog, similar to the first monster spell, puffed out and swelled a little more. A few sparks flared from deep within it as it slowly started moving back toward the ground.
“Go, go, go.” I turned and ran right into someone. Cahal stepped around me, grabbed the guy by the robe, and yanked him out of the way. The robe ripped and the guy barreled into a few other mages, three of them falling. Cahal pushed someone else out of the way and I ran in the newly created lane, Emery right behind me.
“Cut through,” Emery yelled.
I pulled at the elements above me, wove them into something nasty, and shoved it out, ruthless in my desperation. Up ahead I could see Darius slashing and tearing his way to the front, all strength and viciousness. Reagan followed in his wake, letting him clear the way.
The fog continued to lower, just as unhurried as the last. Tripping over limbs, struggling through the panicking crowd, I shot another spell at the people continuing to file into my way. The fog was nearly close enough to singe. The wall to my left was unforgiving, and the crowd pushing at me from the other side blocking me in.
Emery yanked me back, pushing me behind him. As big as a linebacker and just as strong, he barreled up the line, shooting magic or just muscling people to the side. I followed closely with Cahal behind, his hands on my upper back, occasionally tugging upward when my foot caught on human debris. I didn’t dare shrug him off, not with the spell drifting lower, trying to meet its target.
The bear up front swiped and someone went flying, half of her body grazing the fog. She screamed, but it soon cut off, and she fell in a boneless drop like the other mage. More people screamed at the back of the group, horrid, agonizing wails, as they were caught in the spell of their own making. When we were almost at the front and out, a throng of people pushed in our way, trying to escape the bear.
I caught sight of Reagan on the other side, her eyes widening. Cahal’s hands tightened on my upper back. Emery started shoving, forcing people forward with pure brawn.
We wouldn’t get out in time. That fog was right on us now, too big and dense for me to counter it in the half-minute we had left.
Without warning, a solid air wall slammed down in front of us. Emery ran into it face first, and I had to grab his hair and rip it down to keep him from popping straight up into the magical fog. People yelled and screamed in surprise as they were shoved by an unseen force, pushed back toward the bear. An alley had opened up, totally clear, but an invisible wall kept the mages out.
“Come on,” Emery said, taking my hand to make sure I made it. Ducking as he ran through the opening.
This time Cahal’s hands weren’t helping keep me upright, they were pushing on my back to keep my head down—and to keep him stable as he all but crawled after me. Emery reached the end and rolled out. I dove, and Cahal rolled out after me.
The bear backed up, swiped at another person, forcing them back. The fog continued to lower, catching people within its choking grasp. Killing its creators.
“Find the next one,” I shouted, panic still flooding my system. Tears—ashamedly—close to the surface.
That had been unbearably close. Terrifyingly close.
“We need to douse it in fire first,” Reagan said to us as she jogged over, lines etching her face and worry tightening her eyes.
I danced out of the way so Steve could pounce on someone, fitting his massive jaw over their skull and shaking. I changed up the weave this time, remembering how the magic had worked with the last. Emery filled in easily. Reagan waited to add her bit.
“How many of these do you think they have?” she asked, traces of fatigue riding her words. She’d already poured so much of herself into the fight.
“Three barons.” Emery pointed at a shoe that had flown off the foot of its wearer. “One.” He pointed in another direction. “Two, if the shifters got that one.”
“They did. Roger’s teams have excellent follow-through. Ask Vlad and Darius. So one more, then.” Reagan stepped out of the way as we threw out a spell. This time, it struck a little harder and sank in deeper before spinning to life and expanding, eating the spell away from the inside before spouting flame. Reagan’s fire kindled a moment later, creating the illusion it was growing out of our spell, and ate across the outside of the fog.
“Maybe the High Chancellor,” Emery said as we started forward with a group of shifters and vampires in tow. The fog had already started drifting our way. Now it marginally sped up, in lazy, powerful pursuit.
We took off at a jog, joined by shifters and vampires. With the horde growing, we had an easy time picking off mages in twos and threes. A little farther, and I saw where Vlad had gone.
In a dirt patch that had probably once been grass, vampires tore through another gathered mass of mages, their ingredients scattered across the ground. Spells zipped or flared, but the vampires cut through them with their claws, working efficiently to take out the mages. Roger’s team was gathered at the periphery, letting no one escape. Locking them all in with the vampires.
This mass of mages hadn’t been able to get their huge spell off the ground.
“That Vlad is good,” I said with grudging respect.
“Yeah. He didn’t get where he is for nothing,” Reagan said, turning. Darius stayed with her. “Right. That’s group three. Either we have a High Chancellor getting another group ready… There’s the fog coming. Let’s change locations. It has another ten minutes before my—the fire can eat through it.”
“Why would they make it move so slowly?” I asked, starting up a jog. My feet ached and my legs felt like jelly. I was running out of steam.
“If the three spells were drifting around at once, following you? The amount of effort and power it would take to bring even one of them down would’ve severely weakened…a normal mage. It would’ve kept you on the run. And then the many mages could have just slowly corralled you and blocked you in. You would’ve had to fight too many battles at once. But three things went wrong for them. They didn’t get the spells all going in time, they weren’t organized for the follow up, and they underestimated our power. It was a great plan, badly executed.”
“The phone is buzzing again,” Emery said, reaching for his pocket as a group of mages jogged into our line of sight. They stopped quickly, reached for their satchels, and…as one, they took off running back the way they’d come.
Reagan kicked up speed to follow them, the rest of us close behind. We ran around the corner, in hot pursuit, seeing them head for a building with an open door.
“We need to check the buildings,” Emery said. “Flush them out.”
As we hurried out into the middle of a collection of buildings, all the doors opened at once. Banged off the sides of walls. A veil of throbbing magic unrolled all at once between the buildings and dropped to the ground. Zips of magic flew high, spreading out and landing on top of the collection of buildings, securing the corners of the veil.
Each spell surged with power, each weave was tight and controlled, done by someone with a deft hand. Orchestrated perfectly.
Trapping our small host.
“They were saving their Natural,” Emery said.
36<
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Purple-clad mages filed out and stretched out to the sides, creating a circle around us, satchels open at their sides and little round balls collected in their hands. Casings. They’d prepared all their spells ahead of time and could pose a rapid-fire attack for those they needed out of the way so they could trap Emery and I in. Another group of mages surged out, bedecked in red and orange, more than the first rush, filling in any holes in the circle or standing behind. Finally, a woman with a stern face, straight shoulders, and haunted eyes sauntered into our midst. The circle of mages opened a small gap that she could walk into, and the bright gold robe couldn’t possibly overshadow the armor of confidence draped across her body.
The Natural. It had to be.
Reagan stood very still next to me. Emery was completely tense. Cahal had his hand on my shoulder. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky throbbed with power and pleasure, in its element.
“I can probably break us out of here,” Reagan said quietly as movement flickered within one of the open windows.
“Probably?” Emery asked.
“It depends on how quickly they can fire off their spells.” For the first time that I’d ever fought with her, she didn’t sound sure.
Tendrils of panic wrapped around my chest.
Steve made a chuffing sound, his great lion form at our backs, his tail flicking lazily. I had no idea what any of it meant.
More mages showed up, gathering on the outside of the magical veil, waiting to battle the vampires and shifters who came to our aid.
“So many,” Emery whispered, shaking his head slowly and looking around at the circle enclosing us. “They’ve collected so many.”
“The promise of power is clearly alluring to a great many mages.” Reagan’s voice was filled with acid.
A phone vibrated as Darius pushed in close to Reagan.
“Keep thinking, Darius,” Reagan said quietly. “Try to find the best approach.”
“If you see an opening, Cahal, get her out,” Emery said.
“Nope.” My mind raced as I shrugged off Cahal’s grip on my shoulder, looking at the mages’ faces, the positioning of their bodies and hands. Taking a sampling of the—once again—stifling air. Something about their magic always cut off the natural element. “What do the colors of the robes mean?”
“Purple represents the highest tier of power in their hierarchy. They never, ever used to have this many.” Emery paced in a circle, looking at the mages gathered around us. “Orange is the next highest, and red are the sheriffs. Some high, some maybe middle, but all excellent at fighting with magic. Thankfully, they only have one gold. I was worried they might’ve found another.”
One, while surrounded by this mass of lesser power, was plenty.
“So we’re surrounded by a collection of their absolute best fighters, equipped with pre-made spells,” I summed up.
“Yep, that about sums it up.” Reagan’s voice held no humor.
“But why haven’t they attacked yet?” I whispered.
“Because they want you alive.”
“Well, well, well.” A man wearing a long, shiny blue robe emerged from the doorway closest to us. With a withered face fraught with sagging skin, buoyed by a blue scarf, and knobby, gnarly fingers, he looked way up in his years and in need of a comfortable reading chair and a fire, not a magical battle in the middle of the night.
“The High Chancellor,” Emery said, anger lacing his voice.
“Here they said it couldn’t be done.” The man’s voice sounded like old, crackly paper. “But alas, I have caught the famous Rogue Natural and his beautiful assistant.”
“Ooh, Penny, I’d be pissed,” Reagan said, throwing knife in hand. “By the by, that robe is an extremely loud shade of blue. Are you trying to compensate for something? Your equally extreme lack of youth, perhaps?”
“She’s trying to rile him up,” Emery whispered, his eyes roaming. “People do irrational things when they’re angry or being badgered. Keep looking for an out.”
“I must admit”—the man stopped just in front of the line of mages dressed in purple—“I did not think you’d get through the ward, much less escape my teams’ spells. I barely approved the lengthy practice sessions required to prepare the mages to create those monstrosities. Overkill, I thought. And this last bit? Just a precaution. Yet…” He spread his hands, gesturing toward us. “Here we are. Miraculous. Can this all be contributed to two derelict naturals…or is it their silent partner who made the difference?” His eyes slid to Reagan.
“I just carry coffee for the vampire,” she said with a steady voice. “He lets me tag along.”
“Indeed.” A thin-lipped smile spread across the High Chancellor’s liver-spotted face. “Be that as it may, I have a treasure trove here, don’t I? Will you come quietly?”
“Dumb questions speak of an inadequate mind,” Reagan said.
“Mouthy, for a vampire’s slave.” The High Chancellor looked off to the side as my phone vibrated again. The shifters’ magic pooled around us, their hackles raised. The vampires stood stock-still, studying each movement and word.
“You realize that you have cornered a lot of very dangerous magical beings, right?” Reagan said, her body positioning selling a complete lack of worry. “I mean…” She pointed at me, and I slapped her hand away. I didn’t need a spotlight on me. “Just cornering her results in some extreme situations. Almost as extreme as that hideous robe. But the Rogue Natural, an elder vampire, several powerful shifters, and the vampire’s slave? You planned well, but this is probably your greatest mistake. Do your underlings realize how dull your mind has gotten with age?”
“Silence!” Spittle flew from the High Chancellor’s mouth. Their natural shifted in her place. Reagan had clearly done this sort of taunting before. She knew the right buttons to hit.
“Oh.” She threw up her hands, twirling her knife through her fingers as she did so. “And I didn’t even mention the warrior druid you probably failed to notice. I won’t point him out. It’ll ruin the surprise.”
“That is enough!” The High Chancellor took a step toward us, his face creased with anger.
The mages on the outside of the magic veil started moving—their hands working, their bodies ducking and shifting. Our reinforcements had arrived, only to confront a wall of mage and magic. They’d never get through in time.
The phone vibrated again. “Would someone check that?” I said through my teeth, the pressure a heavy weight on my shoulders. My magic boiling. The storm inside me brewing.
“See? Stage one of Wow, Did You Fuck Up.” Reagan pointed at me again.
I slapped her hand away as Emery dug out my phone. “‘Stay away from the cavern of buildings,’” he read.
“A little late for that,” Reagan muttered.
“This is your final offer. Come quietly, and I will spare you the creative torture we have in store,” the High Chancellor said as the people outside the veil moved faster. One of the mages jerked out of sight. A furry head appeared somewhere else, followed by a pair of paws, and someone else was dragged away.
The sound had been muted. We couldn’t hear anything outside of our cage. Couldn’t feel any new air. No whisperings of magic.
“I think I can counter that spell,” Emery said, his eyes leaving the phone and shooting upward. “But it’ll take me a minute.”
“One minute, or a few minutes?” Reagan murmured without moving her lips.
“Resist, and I will destroy all you hold dear,” the High Chancellor said.
“That was a helluva jump there, bub.” Reagan hefted her throwing knife, and I held my breath, but she didn’t throw it. She twirled it between her fingers again. “Not like we believe you anyway. You’ll take Darius and ransom him off to the vampires, right? I mean, we both know he’s worth a shitload—”
“Anything else from my mother?” I whispered while Reagan distracted the High Chancellor.
Emery handed over the phone, still looking at the ceiling. “‘The easiest spell
is above.’ Which is no help.”
I read the rest of the messages from my mother.
Find your alleys.
Alleys? When their formation splits, maybe?
Reconnect.
Reap what you sowed.
Callie and Dizzy say they are with the others outside the stronghold. Didn’t elaborate. Shifters and vamps clearing away people so they can work on spell. Far wall.
“What the donkey spit does far wall mean, Mother?” I said, my fingers white-knuckled around the phone.
“Silence her!” The High Chancellor flung out his hand, pointing at Reagan.
“Here we go.” Reagan hefted her throwing knife again before hurling it at their natural. Someone in purple dove in front of her, taking the blade and sinking to the ground.
Steve roared, guttural, powerful, and so loud that I accidentally screamed. The mages he faced visibly quailed, one of them dropping her casings and scrambling to pick them up. His muscles bunched and he leapt forward, crashing into a cluster of mages.
Cahal shifted behind me and an arrow was loosed. Red blossomed in the center of a mage’s chest, and he looked down in surprise before he slumped. Cahal turned again, another arrow ready, his elbow bumping my arm.
My phone flew out of my hand and skittered across the cracked concrete. As I bent for it, a splash of red caught my eye. To my right, at the corner of one of the buildings encircling us, the veil of magic was discolored. The effect faded but then flared a brighter red and spread.
Callie and Dizzy. They were figuring out how to bust a hole in the spell, starting at the spot where it was likely anchored the weakest. Warmth filled my chest. Experience was a huge advantage.
“That wall.” I pointed as Emery wove together a complex spell. “The dual-mages are working on that wall. We need to combine our efforts.”
The whisper of a sword leaving a sheath forced me to glance up. Cahal held a wickedly curved blade, black on black, the handle the same color as the steel. It glimmered in the light of the compound, promising death to anyone who dared trifle with him…or me.
