In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1)

by Sonya Bateman

  Before she could react, one of the patrols on the other side of the street shouted, “Sawyer! We’ve got more coming.”

  “Fantastic.” Sawyer half-turned and muttered, “Where the hell are they coming from?”

  Teague stepped aside to look past him and saw a good-sized group of Changers, maybe a dozen in all, five blocks away and closing. She pushed away the memory of the dwarf in the warehouse pleading for his life — it would only distract her from the job. “Come on,” she said, starting for the horse. “We can take them between the two of us.”

  A hand grabbed her wrist before she could mount. “No,” Sawyer practically growled. “This is my job now. Your job is to get on the comms and find out what’s going on, see if maybe one of the shelters has been breached.”

  “Bullshit.” She wrenched her arm back and met his hot stare. “If there was a problem, Zen would’ve—”

  “Bishop detail, fall back to base. Julian’s been injured. Everyone in Bishop, fall back.”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. The shock on Sawyer’s face said he’d heard it too. Zen must have screwed up trying to target only the Knights in Bishop, and she’d ended up broadcasting to everyone instead. “I told him. Damn it, I told him I should’ve been there!”

  She already had a foot in the stirrup when Sawyer said, “Harlow, don’t. You’re just going to piss him off if you rush back there right now.”

  “Ask me if I care how pissed he gets.” She boosted up, swung her leg over the saddle. “I’m going.”

  Sawyer held his hands up and shook his head. There was something like sympathy in his eyes — or was it resentment? “This is a mistake,” he said. “You’re making it personal.”

  “Goddamn right, it’s personal,” she snarled, yanking on the reins to point the filly toward Bishop. “Extremely personal. Job’s yours, Sawyer. Enjoy.”

  She rode off at full speed without looking back.

  The Eclipse ended just before Teague reached the gates of the training facility, an abrupt and breathless flood of daylight battering her eyes. The horse stopped without prompting, dazzled by the brilliance and snorting in confusion, and she gave a reassuring pat as she walked her slowly the rest of the way and dismounted. “Good job, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Good run.”

  Two guards flanked the gate. All black with berets, rather than brown camo and field caps — patrol captains. Whatever happened, it made Julian upgrade the security.

  Damn it, she should’ve been here with him.

  With mounting rage and more than a little concern, she led the filly toward the nearest guard, the one in front of the keypad intercom, and thrust the reins at him. “Get someone to take her back to the stables in Casper, and open the gate,” she said. “I need to see Julian.”

  “We’re on lockdown.” The guard didn’t even look at her. “Nobody in or out.”

  It wasn’t easy to keep from screaming, but she managed. “Open it. Now.”

  “Ma’am—”

  “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me.” Still not screaming. Not yet. “You take this horse, and you open this gate. Because if I have to call Julian and get him out here, things aren’t going to end well for you. Understand?”

  The guard finally turned toward her. He looked uncertain, but determined. “You may have to call him, ma’am,” he said. “I’m sorry. We’re on lockdown, and I can’t positively identify you. But if you have the ability to call Mr. Bishop—”

  “That won’t be necessary. Let her in.”

  Julian. The voice came from the intercom, and the guard did a startled double-take as he looked from her to the speaker, then back. “Okay, Mr. Bishop,” he said calmly, though his face disagreed with his tone. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Get someone to take care of the horse.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  While the guard punched the code into the keypad, Teague looked up at the camera mounted on the post beside the gate. Julian had to be in his office — and he’d been watching since the Eclipse ended, since the moment she arrived. Why the hell did he wait to say something? Maybe he really was pissed at her for coming here.

  The thought left her cold. Because if he was angry, it was about the job. It meant he considered her an employee, possibly a team member or coworker. And nothing more.

  She walked through the gate without acknowledging the guards and made her way to the building, letting herself inside and past the check points with her security card. There wasn’t much activity here at the front of the building, but she heard murmurs of conversation and people moving around off to the right. Toward the conference rooms, and the medical facility.

  Julian’s office was at the end of the main corridor on the left, a big corner room with a lot of windows. She stopped in front of the closed door and knocked. The lock buzzed open, but there was no greeting from the intercom.

  She went in. The office was two areas divided by a glass partition, glossy table with four chairs at the front, Julian’s desk at the back by the windows. He sat behind it, looking at her. And Carola perched on the desk, her back to the door. Putting makeup on him.

  The white shirt he wore was stained with blood, apparently from a nasty gash at his temple.

  “Are you kidding me?” Teague slammed the door shut and flew across the room, all implications of a strictly-business relationship aside. “You’re doing a news piece now?”

  Carola gasped and whipped her head around. “How did you—”

  “Carola.” Julian spoke without looking away from Teague. He took the woman’s hand and gently plucked the makeup brush from her. “Would you give us a few minutes, please?”

  “All right. We just don’t have a lot of time…”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “A few minutes. Maybe you’ll check on Grogan for me?”

  “Of course I will. The poor man.” Carola gave a somewhat watery smile that looked fake as hell and slid down from the desk, then walked around and headed for the exit.

  She gave Teague a wide berth as she passed.

  When the door closed, Julian was the first to speak. “So. Unless you can teleport now, you left Casper before the Eclipse was over.”

  “Yeah, I did. I never should’ve been there in the first place.” She was angry enough to shake, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

  He stood and started around the desk, his face unreadable. “Yes, you should have. You should be there right now,” he said as he moved in front of her. “There’s still a lot to do out there. Cleanup, crowd control, spot checks. And I don’t want Sawyer — damn it, why did you come back?”

  “Julian, you’re bleeding.”

  It was meant to be an accusation. But the concern, the fear in her made the words small. He’d never been hurt before. She hadn’t been here to stop it. Her eyes welled up, and she looked away from him.

  “Tee.” His voice gentled, and he cupped her face with a warm hand to turn her back. She let him. “I’m all right,” he said. “Looks worse than it is, I promise.”

  “Really. What about Grogan?” It was starting to sink in now, the way Carola had said ‘that poor man.’ In reference to Grogan, who was practically an unstoppable force. “Zen called everyone back, and you’ve got captains on the gate,” she said. “What happened out there? And don’t tell me it looks worse than it is.”

  Julian drew an unsteady breath. “The Darkspawn attacked us directly.”

  “What?” Her blood froze. Those cowards had never gone near any of the Knights. They destroyed shipments, attacked clinics and pharmacies, stole weapons, killed patrols and civilians. Skulked around in the shadows. And they never came out during an Eclipse. “Did they…”

  “No casualties. Grogan is seriously hurt, but he’ll be okay.” A dark look flashed across Julian’s face. “At least one of them was using powerful magic, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. As for me…” He smirked and gestured at his temple. “Got hit with a rock, of all things. Just a regular, non-magical rock.”

  T
eague wasn’t exactly relieved. “It could’ve been a lot worse,” she said.

  “I know.” He closed his eyes, then looked at her and took her hand. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  She told herself the hitch in her throat was nausea. “No, thanks. You and Miss Makeup have a great time. I’m sure the press will eat it up.”

  “I didn’t say have dinner with us. I said me.” He stroked her palm with a thumb, sending shivers through her, and smiled into her eyes. “Just me. Here, not in public.”

  “Julian…”

  “Please, Tee. It’s important.” His smile stayed in place. “I’ll get takeout from the Blue Hill. I know you love their seared tuna steak.”

  She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “It’s complicated,” he said. “I’ll tell you tonight.”

  No. This was a bad idea, and she was going to say so. But when she opened her mouth, what came out was a sigh and, “All right. When?”

  “Eight.” He reached out with his free hand, trailing fingertips up her throat. His head bent toward her. “Tee, I just…” he murmured.

  You just what? Before she could say it, there was a knock at the office door. “Julian?” Carola’s muffled voice called. “Ten minutes, honey. We really have to get you ready.”

  Teague bristled instantly and pulled back. “You really are doing a news piece,” she said. “In ten minutes? I mean, it’s bad enough you let them parade you around for an hour on the six o’clock—”

  “It’s just a brief,” he cut in. “A quickie broadcast to reassure people that it’s over, and everything will go back to normal now. It’s a good idea. Something I should’ve been doing already.”

  “By good idea, you mean Carola’s idea,” she said. “Right?”

  His jaw firmed. “Actually, yes. But that doesn’t mean it’s not good.”

  More knocking sounded. “Julian, honey?”

  Teague folded her arms and stared coolly at him. “I guess you’d better let her in,” she said. “Honey.”

  The tension eased from his features. “I wish you’d try to understand this,” he said. “People need to hear from me, from all the Knights. They need to feel safe.”

  “No, Julian. They need to be safe.” She glared at him a moment longer, then turned and strode for the door. “I’ll just let Carola in for you, so you can finish putting your face on,” she said. “Enjoy your quickie.”

  She refused to look at him again. Still, furious as she was, she’d be back tonight anyway. Even though she knew damned well she should turn him down.

  She always came back.

  CHAPTER 14

  Yukon Street Clinic

  August 8, 1:55 p.m.

  The pocket watch was still ticking along when the sun returned, and it proclaimed that the Eclipse had lasted an hour and ten minutes. Only six minutes longer than predicted. Still, Naomi was a bit shaken.

  It didn’t have to mean anything, she told herself as she and Aileen saw the last of the unexpected refugees out of the clinic. Maybe the watch had stopped a few times, and she just didn’t notice. Six minutes wasn’t really a long time — overall, the Eclipse was still slightly more than an hour. Still roughly double. Maybe it never had been exactly doubled from the last year. Nothing worked exactly the way it should during magic surges, and BiCo’s calculations could be just a little off.

  But she had a hard time believing that a company like BiCo wouldn’t be able to track the timing with absolute precision, or that they’d take a chance on screwing up something this big.

  Aileen closed the door after the last person left. “Well. That was some day, wasn’t it?” she said. The forced good cheer she’d been wearing since the morning’s early start was definitely slipping, and she looked as exhausted as she must have been. “At least no one got hurt, thank God.”

  “Yes. I’m glad for that,” Naomi said absently, aware that her own viewpoint of who’d gotten hurt wasn’t widely shared. People had been killed today, even if no one considered them people anymore.

  Except Sawyer Volk hadn’t killed any of them.

  She’d watched him out there more than once when the fighting was in full swing. She’d seen him use magic against the Changers. At first she’d been nothing but disgusted — it was fine for the Knights to use magic, but anyone else who did was either taken away or put down.

  Then she realized he wasn’t actually killing them. Some of his patrol officers had; there were bodies out there in that truck. Not one had died by Sawyer’s hand. He made a big, flashy show of everything, and it certainly looked like he was fighting the Changers. But he wasn’t striking them down.

  She had no idea what to make of that.

  “I suppose we’d better get this place cleaned up.” Aileen looked around the lobby and covered a yawn with her hand. “What a mess.”

  “I’ll clean up. You’re going home to get some rest.” Naomi smiled, put an arm around the older woman and led her away from the door. Her car was parked out back. “We’re officially closed for the rest of the day,” she said. “And you are officially off duty.”

  “Are you sure?” There was a note of cautious relief in her tone. “I mean, I hate to leave you with all this…”

  “I’m sure. Go home, Aileen,” she said, and added with a smirk, “Doctor’s orders.”

  Aileen laughed. “Well, if you put it that way.”

  “See you in the morning. Normal time.”

  Aileen gathered her sweater and purse from the reception desk, and left with a weary but pleasant goodbye. When she heard the back door shut, Naomi headed for the coffee machine. Her day wasn’t over yet. Besides straightening up in here, she had to double-check the records for this morning, make sure there were no appointments scheduled for later today, put in an order to replace the supplies they’d burned through. And decide whether she was worried enough about the longer-than-expected Eclipse to try contacting Scott.

  He’d sounded so paranoid, so … crazy.

  But what if he wasn’t?

  She’d gotten coffee going, made sure all the candles were blown out and the flashlights turned off, and started picking up empty water bottles from the floor when the front door opened and Sawyer Volk walked in.

  A quick flash of irritation turned to concern when she took in the state of him — bruised, bleeding, filthy. He’d taken his armor off, and the clothes beneath were damp and matted. He looked furious. And exhausted.

  She dropped the empties in the trash and started across the room. “Sit down, before you fall,” she said. “I’ll have a look at you.”

  “Hey, whoa.” He held his hands up and backed a step toward the door. “I didn’t come in here for medical attention, Dr. Talbot. Just making sure everyone’s cleared out.”

  “Too bad. You’re getting it anyway.”

  He lowered his arms. “No, really. I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

  His eyes widened, and then he laughed. “Well, maybe not all of them.”

  “Just the pretty ones?” She half-smiled to show she was joking, mostly, and tried to take his arm and lead him to a seat.

  He would not be budged. “I appreciate the offer,” he said. “But I still have work to do.”

  “Oh, and I don’t.” She gestured at the messy clinic. Not that it was anywhere near the work he had ahead of him, but he’d get the point. She hoped. “Listen, Mr. Volk. I don’t know your boss very well, but if Mr. Bishop would be upset with you for taking a few minutes off your feet when you’ve just spent an hour fighting for your life … well, maybe you should start looking for a new boss.”

  Sawyer gaped at her. “You really are something,” he said with a crooked smile. “All right. I’ll sit down, and you can have your look. On one condition.”

  “Which would be… ?”

  He grinned. “Please call me Sawyer. And don’t make
me ask again.”

  “Deal,” she said. “And I’m Naomi.”

  “Okay, Naomi. Before you start poking me, do you have a bathroom I can use?”

  “Sure. Right there.” She pointed at the door to the right of the reception desk.

  “Thanks.”

  She watched him go into the bathroom, noting the way he winced slightly and favored his right side, and then popped in the back to load her coat pockets with bandages and alcohol wipes. She tried not to think about Aileen’s comments yesterday — a good-looking man, about your age, wink-wink nudge-nudge. As if. Even if she was ready to consider dating, that wasn’t happening for about a hundred reasons, on both sides of the table.

  He was undeniably good-looking, though. And it was getting harder to reconcile the rude, leering voice on the phone last night with the man who’d saved one of her patients, gotten rid of those awful patrol officers, and refrained from the murdering-people part of his job.

  When she came back out to the lobby, she heard water running in the bathroom. A moment later it shut off, and Sawyer emerged looking slightly cleaner and less bloody. He gave a tired smile and walked past the desk where she stood to take a seat in the nearest chair. “Okay, I’m sitting,” he said. “Now what?”

  “I guess we’ll start with your face.” She moved in front of him, bent closer to inspect the nasty cut next to his eye, the bruised cheek, and the split in his lip. “Doesn’t look broken, at least,” she said.

  “What, my face? I didn’t know a broken face was an actual medical condition.”

  “Well, it is. Aren’t you glad I’m a doctor?” She flashed a quick smile. “I won’t put anything on your lip, but that cut could use cleaning and a couple of steri-strips. Okay with you?”

  He shrugged. “Like you said, you’re the doctor.”

  “All right.” She opened an alcohol wipe, crumpled the package back in her pocket and swabbed gently around the gash. He looked away and only flinched a little when she touched him. “By the way,” she said as she fished out a pair of butterfly closures. “I owe you a thank-you or two.”