In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1)

by Sonya Bateman

  “Three months,” he said quietly.

  “The point is, she’s useless,” Teague said through clenched teeth. “Maybe she was important before, with her influential daddy and her old money — oh, and let’s not forget her daring sense of fashion.” She couldn’t help snorting. “But now she’s just a Norm. She couldn’t protect a bowl of milk from a sleeping cat, let alone people from Changers. And you’re sending me to the city because she wants you to.”

  His smile grew slanted. “You’re jealous.”

  “Screw you, Julian.”

  This time he grabbed her by the shoulders. She didn’t pull away, but she glared a challenge — and the Magesign on her left arm shimmered with dark violet balefire.

  He noticed and let go. “All right,” he said slowly. “Maybe Carola did suggest that you should go with the Casper team tomorrow. But I’d already decided to send you to the city before she mentioned it.”

  She couldn’t figure out if he was trying to justify the decision, or protecting his little media darling. “Why?” she said.

  “Because I trust you, Tee.”

  She snorted. “This is trusting me?”

  “More than anyone else in the world,” he said in low tones. “Look, everyone wants you in charge. They all trust you. It’s not just me.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sure that’s exactly how Sawyer feels.”

  “I don’t give a damn about Sawyer’s opinion.” Julian’s hazel eyes flashed. “I know he’s powerful, but he gets sloppier every year. You’re the sensible one. You’re my rock,” he said. “There’s been a lot more activity in Casper this year. And if the pattern holds, the Eclipse is going to last over an hour this time. Sawyer can’t handle it. But you can.”

  “I’m not a leader, Julian,” she said.

  He reached for her, took her hand. This time she let him. “You will be,” he said. “Please do this for me. I need you.”

  His words sent a sharp ache through her that had nothing to do with Casper or the Eclipse. She pushed it aside. “Like I have a choice,” she said. “Everyone does what you tell them to.”

  “Everyone but you. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not? It’s true.” He was leaning toward her, lips quirked in a sultry smile. “I miss us,” he murmured. “It doesn’t have to be Carola, you know. If you’d just let the world know you the way I do…”

  She pulled back before he could kiss her, despite her body’s protests. That was one indulgence she wouldn’t allow herself again. Not while Carola was around, anyway. “You know I won’t,” she said.

  “Yes. But I wish you would.” He sighed and released her hand. “Please get some rest tonight,” he said. “It’s going to be a long afternoon. And don’t forget to take an extra dose of HeMo, all right? I can’t lose you.”

  “I will.” Somehow she managed to say it calmly. She’d never taken HeMo, never would. She didn’t trust the stuff. But Julian didn’t have to know that.

  He seemed to be waiting for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he shook his head and started away. “Goodnight, Teague,” he said.

  She gave a curt nod. “Goodnight, Julian.”

  When he was gone, she stood there for a moment with clenched fists and gritted teeth. Damn it, she didn’t want to be the leader. Being responsible for a bunch of magic users was not her idea of a good time. The worst part was that most of the other Knights embraced the damned magic, never hesitated to use it — despite the fact that it was all so unpredictable, downright dangerous. No one knew what they were doing with it. Not even Julian, powerful as he was.

  Five years ago, magic had been something you saw in movies or on Las Vegas stages, every bit of it a trick, an illusion. And then the dragons came. Now magic was real, and horrible, and destructive. Sweeping through humans like a plague, changing them into living nightmares.

  She might not be able to get rid of the magic she’d been cursed with, but she wasn’t going to use it. Not unless she absolutely had to.

  With a frustrated snarl, she snatched the crossbow and whirled toward the lanes, where multiple holo-Julians still wandered the false Eclipse light with empty grins. She dispatched them rapid-fire style, one after the other.

  This time she aimed lower and to the left.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Badlands

  August 7, 10:49 p.m.

  Clean sky, hard stars, and no wind. Noah used to treasure nights like these, before the dragons came. Before the world went to hell.

  He shook himself and stretched, looking down the walls of the ravine toward the concealed entrance to the camp below. He couldn’t hear the generators at all from up here, but the faint smell of cooking meat wafted through the air. Silas and Indigo had come back from their hunt with a mule deer.

  Everyone had agreed to stick to the plan tomorrow, even Oscar. At first he’d been relieved about that. Now, he realized, he’d hoped at least a few of them would say no, or at least express some doubt.

  If they failed, if anyone died, it would be his fault. Him and his maddeningly vague vision.

  There was a soft scraping sound from the cavern behind him. Noah turned, bringing his flashlight up to direct it inside. And was promptly treated to the sight of Diesel taking his pants off.

  “Jesus Christ,” he murmured with a smirk, moving the beam away from the man. “I told you to warn me before you strip.”

  “I’m stripping.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.” He took a few steps inside and glanced at the glowing face of his watch. It was 10:52. “Seven minutes,” he said. “You want me to go down with you?”

  “No,” Diesel replied roughly. “Just wait. Please.”

  “All right. You’d better get going, though.”

  Diesel nodded, turned and headed into the deeper blackness of the cavern. They’d found a fairly deep pool back there about a year ago, decided to try immersion, and the big man claimed that it helped a little. Though judging from his screams, Noah suspected that ‘a little’ wasn’t much.

  He moved back to the mouth of the cavern, thinking about tomorrow. He still didn’t like taking this kind of chance. Attacking BiCo’s drug shipments was one thing, but going after Julian could be suicide. It would’ve been for sure if they tried to get to him inside Bishop. The suburb town that the arrogant bastard had named after himself was heavily fortified, constantly patrolled and protected by magic, with BiCo’s main facility at the heart of the place. But tomorrow was Eclipse Day, when the great White Knight strode forth from his palace and allowed the masses to glimpse upon him.

  Even with destroying as much HeMo as they could get their hands on, their efforts could only slow things down. Julian himself had to be stopped — Noah’s latest vision had confirmed that, at least, beyond a doubt. Tomorrow was one of the rare times he might be vulnerable, and they couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

  At least they had one advantage. Julian’s magic might be stronger during the Eclipse, but so was everyone else’s. Including his own … and Diesel’s.

  Just as he thought it, a hoarse, drawn-out scream filled the cavern behind him. He shivered in sympathy. As always, the minute seemed to last a lot longer than it should, and he could only imagine how long it must feel to Diesel. The sound finally tapered off to a rough gasp, and then faint splashing as the man hauled himself out of the pool.

  Noah kept his back turned until he was reasonably sure Diesel had his clothes back on. The fucked-up amnesia, or whatever it was that had split the man’s mind when the magic hit him, must’ve taken away the concept of modesty along with his memories.

  Four years ago, Noah had found him wandering the Badlands, naked and muttering something about the Source and the Blight and someone or something called Orrin. The words he’d used were strange, hard to hear, like they were only trying really hard to be English words. By then Noah’s own Seer skills had sharpened enough to know that the man wasn’t a danger, at least to him
. Just incredibly powerful, and kind of insane.

  Diesel had proven whose side he was on moments later when he blasted the two-man BiCo patrol that had been following Noah into scorched puddles on the rocks.

  Since then they’d worked on not flat-out murdering people quite so much. Diesel was normal most of the time now, but occasionally he’d lapse back into that not-quite-English, rambling insanity that was trying and failing to make sense. His voice was different when it happened, too. Deeper, scarier — and that was saying something, since normal Diesel looked and sounded like a cross between a pro wrestler and a grizzly bear. And fought like a demon.

  He wasn’t a Seer like Noah, because the things he said weren’t visions. That was all they’d figured out so far. And when those random acts of possession happened, sometimes Diesel remembered what he said, what he did.

  Sometimes he didn’t remember. But Noah wouldn’t tell him about those times. Diesel couldn’t help it, whatever it was, and he’d be devastated if he knew that sometimes he got … a little violent.

  “Are you ready?” Diesel said from close behind him.

  Noah hitched a smirk. “Just waiting on you,” he said, glancing back to make sure the man had remembered all his clothes. “Let’s go.”

  The path back to the ravine was a narrow ledge of rock, just room enough to put one foot in front of the other. At least the descent wasn’t too steep. Noah went first, with shuffling steps that sent loose rock scale sliding down the walls. He tried not to watch them hit the ground far below. “So, what do you think?” he said without looking back. “Do we have a chance in hell of taking Julian out tomorrow?”

  There was a pause, and Diesel said, “No.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much my opinion.” Noah drew a careful breath. “Do you think it’s wrong?” he said “My vision, I mean.”

  “It’s never been wrong.”

  His shoulders slumped. “True, but in hindsight. And this one made less sense than most of them.” A frown tugged at his mouth. Sometimes his visions were clear and straight-forward, but some of them only made sense after the events he’d seen actually happened.

  This one was definitely the latter.

  “Have you ever seen him in person?” Noah said. “Julian Bishop, I mean.”

  “Don’t know.”

  He frowned, looked back and saw Diesel smirking. At least the man could joke about his amnesia. “So probably not, then,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Me neither.” It wasn’t entirely the truth. But in his singular encounter, Julian had been too far away to make out his face. He had seen the armor, the staff, the sword dripping with blood. He’d memorized every detail of the bastard from news broadcasts and online photos — the endlessly grinning hero. Part of him couldn’t wait to finally see that face in person.

  The rest of him wanted to obliterate it with a sledgehammer.

  CHAPTER 7

  Five-Star Stables; Casper, Wyoming

  August 8, 9:20 a.m.

  For some reason Teague expected Sawyer to be on time, just to be contrary. Instead he was later than usual. She’d already dispatched the rest of the team, including a nervous Heath she’d partnered with Abram Seitz, one of the more easygoing veteran Knights. Her horse was saddled and ready, her armor on, her quiver packed full.

  She was sitting on a wooden barrel by the entrance to the stables, sharpening her sword on a whetstone and actively hating Julian for making her do this, when Sawyer finally walked in. Well, stumbled.

  “Are you kidding me?” She stared at his rumpled jeans and stained shirt, his rough stubble and stiff, tangled hair. “Did you even shower? You smell like a pig.”

  “Like you know what a pig smells like. Kiss my ass, Harlow.” He lumbered over to the far wall, where the hose they used to spray down the stable floors was coiled on a hook. “You want me to shower? Fine,” he said as he grabbed the hose and twisted the faucet on full blast. He doused himself for almost a minute with what had to be freezing water, then shut the hose off and dropped it on the floor, the end still drizzling. “Happy now, boss?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t call me that,” she said. “And stop acting like a lunatic. You’re scaring the horses.”

  “Oh, yeah. They’re terrified.” He made a show of looking down the center aisle at the three or four remaining animals in their stalls, all of them either standing peacefully or munching on hay. “Look, just tell me where I’m supposed to go,” he said. “Then get out of here. I’m tired of your face already.”

  “I don’t think so. Get ready, and then I’ll tell you.”

  “Jesus Christ. What do you think I’m going to do, play hooky?”

  She shrugged. “It’s my job to make sure you do your job.”

  “Oh, really.” The look he gave her was blistering cold. “Is that you talking, or Julian?”

  “Get dressed, Sawyer,” she said quietly.

  “Fine.” Instead of heading for the armory and the changing rooms at the back of the stable, he stripped off his soaked shirt and dropped it on the floor with a wet plop.

  The first thing she noticed was his Magesign. It was a hell of a lot more elaborate than hers — of course it was, because he used more magic. The dark maroon pattern, like old blood, covered his torso and part of his back. Then she realized the ugly, mottled purple swath blazed down his right side wasn’t part of the pattern. It was a massive bruise.

  Finally, she saw him reaching for the button on his jeans.

  “Get dressed back there.” She pointed her sword down the aisle between the stalls.

  “Well, that’s boring.” He smirked a little. “Just thought I’d try actually scaring the horses. You know, with a big snake.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Go.”

  For a second it looked like he wouldn’t, but he finally started walking. A twinge of sympathy prompted her to call after him, “What happened to your side?”

  “Fell down a fire escape last night,” he said without looking back. “I had to go out a third-floor window. Her husband came home.”

  Every shred of sympathy evaporated.

  He vanished in the back, and Teague sheathed her sword, closing her eyes with a deep, indrawn breath. At least this smelled like the smaller stable back in Bishop, except for the faint undertone of Wet Sawyer. Wood and hay, oiled leather, the musk of the horses. She could almost pretend she wasn’t being forced into doing this.

  She’d been in Casper less than an hour, and already the memories were stirring. The cameras, the microphones, the endless white flashes. People shouting questions, tugging at her, pinning her down. The ominous whap of helicopters circling, and the roar in the background. The awful, sweet burning stench.

  She shook herself and stood, heading for the horses. Might as well get Sawyer’s ready so they could get on with it. She passed by the dappled brown filly she planned to ride, bestowing an absent pat, and slipped into the stall of the huge, jet-black stallion Sawyer always took out. The horse whinnied and pranced for a moment when she came in, but he settled as she spoke soothingly and rubbed his sleek neck.

  She’d saddled the horse and was just buckling the bridle in place when Sawyer spoke behind her. “He doesn’t like that bit.”

  She turned and snorted. He stood just outside the stall gate, fully armored with a sword strapped to his back. All the Knights wore the same base armor for combat — lightweight yet impenetrable, all hi-polymer plastics and Kevlar and Aramid with ceramic plating and specialized silver coating. It looked metallic, but the only real metal they carried were their weapons.

  Her own armor was still at factory settings, plain and muted silver, but the rest of the Knights liked to dress things up. Sawyer, for example, had gold-plated armor with chrome trim and white accents, a winged helmet, and a cape. An actual cape. “You know, you’re the only person I know who can make that much gold look cheap,” she said. “And how do you know he doesn’t like the bit? Do you speak horse?”

  “
Yeah, I do. But only Arabian, Clydesdale and Shetland pony.” He actually smiled, then stepped up and started gently removing the bridle and bit. The horse tried to nuzzle him while he worked, and he laughed and ducked his head. “Easy, there,” he said. “You’ll get your sugar when I’m done.”

  She watched him for a moment, his ease with the animal in a way she’d never seen him with people. Too bad she couldn’t have him stay at the stables all day — at least maybe then he’d calm down. But they had to get out there well before the Eclipse, and it was already late. “Listen, we’ve got a bunch of places that are being designated temporary shelters this year,” she said. “Health centers and clinics mostly. These places aren’t used to lockdowns, so I have you posted at the Yukon Street clinic. You’ll have to explain the temporary shelter designation when you get there.”

  His shoulders stiffened. “You have me standing around at some clinic for the entire Eclipse?”

  “Well, not standing around,” she said. “You’ll have to coordinate patrols, watch for threats. Keep the people inside calm.”

  Sawyer whirled to face her, eyes blazing. “Fucking glorified sentry duty,” he said. “You want me to babysit a handful of civilians. For an hour, while God knows what roams around the city.”

  Once again, Teague almost felt bad for him. He was right to be angry, because he should be the one leading. This was his territory. “Sawyer, I’m sorry,” she said. “Believe me, I didn’t ask for this.”

  “Right. But you didn’t fight it too hard either, did you?” He leered at her, and she took a step back. “Maybe I should try sleeping with the boss. It does come with benefits.”

  Her face flushed, and she came damned close to slapping him. “Don’t you dare,” she said, biting off every word. “I’ve worked just as hard as you, for just as long. My relationship with Julian has nothing to do with this.”

  He gave a mocking laugh. “What relationship? In case you didn’t notice, princess, you’ve been dethroned.”