Jessica Andersen - Magic Unchained

“Don’t worry about it. It was a nice distraction, and if it comes to questions, people are going to remember that you were by the far exit, nowhere near the skull. Hey.” He caught her chin in his hand and tipped her face up into the light. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I…” She trailed off as a long shudder racked her body. “Shit. Sorry. I think… Damn it.” She didn’t want to say it out loud, but didn’t see an alternative. “I think that because I don’t have the aj winikin mark to balance off the coyote glyph, the bond is acting funny. I caught the backlash of the magic when you sent me the skull, and it just about knocked me on my ass.”

“I didn’t feel anything.”

“That’s because it only goes one way.” She tipped a thumb from her chest to his.

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“Tell that to the magic,” she said, her voice threatening to crack.

“Cara—”

“Not now. We need to stay focused.” She held out the bag. “Let’s get this bad boy headed home, okay?”

He hesitated, then went for the knife he’d hidden in an ankle sheath. “Hand it over.”

The carving was heavier to hold than it had felt in the bag, and oddly warm to the touch, the stone slick and smooth. Her heart thudded in her chest as Sven blooded his palms and said the spell words that jacked him into the barrier’s power. Then he took the artifact from her, held it in both hands, and closed his eyes in concentration.

The skull vanished with a huge thunderclap and lightning flared overhead in a jagged slash that broke the sky. Which shouldn’t have happened.

Cara choked off a startled scream and spun, then gaped at the sight of dark, angry storm clouds where there had been a clear sky and stars only moments before. Oh, gods. Had the Banol Kax tracked his magic? Were they somehow using the weather to attack?

Sven shouldered in front of her, using his body to shield her from a sudden whip of wind. “What the fuck? Where did that— Get down!” He pushed her back into the lee of the wall, crowding her into a small, sheltered space. Heat raced through her in a magical backlash, and suddenly the air around them sparkled faintly red-gold. She didn’t have time to marvel at being able to see his shield spell, though, because the sky suddenly flared with another huge bolt of lightning.

It ripped straight for them and slammed into the ship, making the huge vessel lurch and wreathing the observation deck with an eerie blue-white glow. There were shouts and screams from below, where the main decks had gone dark, with emergency lights springing to life here and there. A lone siren began to blare.

Sven cursed and went for his armband, which he’d folded into the shape of a phone and stashed in the pocket of his tux. “Fuck. Nothing!”

Suddenly, horribly, the glow started to draw in on itself, rising up from the deck, taking on shape and details, becoming… “Oh, shit,” Cara breathed. “Do you see…”

The blob was stretching and elongating, growing ears and a long tail even as it darkened to shadows and two burning eyes that glowed gleaming red. It was the hellhound that had attacked her at Aaron’s funeral!

“Get ready to run when I say the word.”

“I can’t.”

“Cara—”

“No!” She wouldn’t risk leading it down to the others. “We need to stop it here!” She scrabbled in her bag for the gun, though jade-tips had barely made a dent the last time.

As if spurred by the sight, the beast roared and charged.

“Leave her alone!” The air turned suddenly scorching as Sven lunged upright, summoned a huge orange-red fireball, and unleashed it with a yell.

The magic slammed into the creature, encircling it with fire and driving it back and down. The thing gave a hideous mewl of pain and collapsed as the flames flared higher, growing so bright that Cara had to squint and then turn away.

Sven stood planted in front of her with his hands balled to fists as if he would’ve fought the thing with his bare hands rather than letting it get to her. But before she could think about the spreading warmth that ran through her at the sight, new horror kindled. “It’s regenerating!”

Lightning lashed the sea around them, bringing thunder and wind, and letting them see that the creature wasn’t just regenerating. It was getting bigger.

“Motherfucker,” Sven said. And braced for the fight.

We’re dead. That was all Sven’s brain could cough up at the realization that they were out in the middle of the fucking ocean without backup or additional weapons. His shield was good for now, and he would try again with the fireball spell, but already he could feel the drain on his magic. He had burned too much of it sending the skull back to Skywatch.

The hellhound snarled as lightning flickered behind it, painting the scene with St. Elmo’s fire.

Gods help us.

Cara came up beside him with her puny little pistol, eyes hard and determined. Her dress glittered in the blue-white lambency of the storm, her hair trailed from its twist in tendrils of white and black, and his magic haloed her with sparks of red-gold. In that moment, she looked like a goddess, and so damn beautiful it made his chest ache.

He wanted to hold her, have her, protect her. But he couldn’t—

Join. You are more powerful together than apart. This is as it was meant to be. The nahwal’s voice echoed in his head, followed by her soft gasp. She turned to him, eyes wide and scared, even as his pulse thudded with mingled shock and excitement.

“You heard that?” he grated.

She snapped her mouth closed and nodded. Then she held out her hand, palm up, to offer her scar. “Do it.”

There wasn’t time to weigh the options; hell, there weren’t any options. He needed the kind of boost that came only from another mage… or a lover.

He took her hand as the beast struggled to its feet with a gurgling roar that called thunder and a howl of wind. He scored her palm and drew blood as the creature started stumbling forward, its eyes locked on his faltering shield. Then he took her hand in his, aligning them blood-to-blood, and hoping to hell this wasn’t a huge mistake.

He felt the jolt of a low-level blood-link, but needed more than that. Way more. Calling his magic, he reached for the barrier and whispered, “Pasaj och.” But nothing changed. It was just the two of them and his nearly tapped-out magic.

“Hurry!” She gripped his hand, urging him on. “Kill it!”

He called a fireball, but it wasn’t much, wasn’t enough.

“It’s not working!” she cried, voice cracking.

He shook his head. “I don’t know—”

You to her and her to you. The bond must form or all is lost! And for a nanosecond—the briefest of instances, there and gone so quickly he almost missed it—pounding restlessness flared through him and he flashed back on a hot, baking desert floor burning his feet as he raced along, searching for the one who would complete him. Those were the dreams he’d had last year, the ones that he hadn’t realized were coming from Mac. But how… “That’s it!”

His magic wasn’t searching for a mate; it wanted a familiar. He was a coyote, after all.

Heart banging against his ribs, he tightened his grip on her and concentrated, not on his magic or the barrier connection, but on his bloodline mark. He focused on it, poured his magic into it, and opened himself to the soul bond he shared with Mac, even though the coyote was too far away for it to function. The magic pooled, searching for a target, then zeroing in on her.

His magic found her, recognized her, wanted her. It arrowed from him to her and back again, and his body convulsed as something tore inside him. Then blazing heat fired in his veins, burning down to his soul and then outward again, shooting down his arm to his bloodline mark.