Ilona Andrews: Magic Rises

The fifth clone collapsed on me, his forearm across my throat like a bar. The world dimmed. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air. I wrapped my freed legs around his and stabbed him in the side, one, two, three, my hand slick and wet with red. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils. Four, five, six, seven . . . Red dust rained on my face. I coughed and rolled to my feet just in time to see Derek hurl Darren across the crater. The armored man landed on his back, clutching at his leg. It was bent the wrong way and the white stub protruding from it had to be his shinbone.

Only Tremblay and the mage were left. I picked up my sword and marched to them. I had to get to the real thing, or this could go on forever.

Tremblay bent over, breathing like a runner after a marathon. “What the fuck are you?”

He was done. Across from us, Derek made a beeline for Tremblay.

“It’s over,” I said.

“Not quite.” The female mage clapped her hands. The magic she’d gathered sparked. A high-pitched chime, like the toll of a large crystal bell, sounded through the night, coming from a point above the woman’s head. A pale glow unfurled, like an incandescent fog billowing from one small point into a yellow cloud, illuminated from within. Something long and sinuous stirred within its depths.

I accelerated. Whatever the thing in the cloud was, it wouldn’t be good, and I wanted the mage out of commission before it emerged. I was twenty yards from the woman when the cloud tore. A glowing creature slipped into existence, hovering above the mage’s head. About two feet long, it resembled a wood louse, wide and flattened. A shell of translucent overlapping segments radiating pale yellow luminescence shielded its flattened body. Seven pairs of thick, segmented crab legs hung from underneath the shell, moving in a flowing rhythm, as if the creature were swimming. Glowing eyes, like two orbs sheathed in metallic foil, looked at me.

“Stop,” the female mage said.

My body stopped. Logically I knew I had to keep moving, but something deep in the core of my brain refused to obey. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t close my eyes. I could only stare at the glowing bug-crustacean apparition.

“Don’t look at it,” I barked.

“Too late,” Derek called out, his voice shredded by his oversized teeth.

Shit.

“Drop your sword,” the woman said.

The command pulled on me. I clenched Slayer. No.

“Drop your sword,” the woman repeated.

A low, steady ache drained down my arm in a viscous wave, all the way into my fingers. The grip of my saber burned my skin like fire. It would be so easy to just let go. So easy.

I clenched my teeth and took a small step forward. Magic anchored me. It felt like I was dragging a semi behind me. Another step.

“Her will is too strong,” the woman said. “You’ll have to go and finish her.”

“No problem,” Tremblay said.

I couldn’t look away from the glowing bug, but I heard the sound of his steps. I had to lift my sword. My arm refused to obey.

Derek snarled.

“Settle down, you’re next,” Tremblay said.

The glowing creature stared at me, its eyes empty and endless at the same time. My whole body shook with effort. I could use a power word, but doing that in front of Saiman was extremely unwise. He’d already seen me use one. If I demonstrated any more power, he would dig deeper into my background. If he put two and two together, he’d sell me out to my real father faster than I could blink.

I could do this. I just had to lift my sword.

Tremblay’s steps were closer.

I would lift it, damn it.

My arm obeyed. It felt like the muscles and ligaments in my arms were ripping apart, but I could feel the balance of the sword shift in my hand. The point of my saber was slowly creeping up. Not fast enough. Tremblay would cut me down.

Well, wasn’t that a lovely predicament. Kate Daniels, rescuer of kidnapped sexual deviants, chopped down by some has-been bodyguard. If Tremblay didn’t finish me, I’d die of sheer embarrassment.

Tremblay got close enough that he swung into my field of vision. His face was grim, his mouth a hard flat line. He hefted the gladius as he walked.

I took a deep breath. Saiman or not, the power word was my only option.

Tremblay raised his sword.

Something snarled, too sharp to be Derek. The crustacean creature dimmed. Its legs flailed helplessly. The hypnotic glow blinked and vanished. The hold on my body broke.

I lunged forward, breaking into a sprint. Tremblay swung the gladius to parry. I batted his sword aside, buried Slayer in his left lung, sliding it between his ribs, and withdrew. Tremblay’s mouth gaped in a shocked O.

A werewolf leaped into view, sailing through the air as if he had wings. His claws scoured the creature. Magic boomed, nearly punching me off my feet, hurling the werewolf and the dying creature to the ground.

Tremblay coughed, dropped his sword, and clamped his hand to the wound. The veins on his neck began to bulge. Probably a collapsed lung. I shoved him aside.

Ahead the female mage lay on her stomach, her hands in the air. An enormous black hound stood over her, his teeth on the back of her neck. A ghostly light rippled over his sable-black fur.

Ha! About time.

To the right, Derek’s prone form sprawled on the glass. The magic creature lay next to him in two glistening wet piles. He must’ve torn it in half. That was where the blast I just felt had come from. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead, Derek.

“I give up,” the woman croaked. “I give up, don’t hurt me.”

“Derek!” I called out. Please be okay, boy wonder. “Derek!”

He sat up slowly and shook his shaggy head.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Head hurrrrts.”

I exhaled and walked up to the woman. Grendel looked at me and growled low.

“Drop it.”

He didn’t move.

“Trash, Grendel. Drop it.”

Grendel opened his jaws and sat.

“Good boy.”

I pulled a plastic tie out of the pocket on my belt and wrapped the mage up. “I feel a shiver of magic from you and I’ll cut your head off. Do we understand each other?”

She nodded frantically. “No, I’m done. I wasn’t wild about this kidnapping plan anyway.”

But she’d gone along with it. And when Tremblay told her to give the signal that would’ve exploded Saiman’s head with a charged arrow if Derek hadn’t taken out the shooter, she gave that signal without the slightest pause. If she was looking for sympathy, I was fresh out.

“Your dog transforms,” Saiman said.

“Brilliant deduction, Mr. Holmes.” I petted Grendel’s huge head. He was a black dog, a mystic hound. Trouble was, he transformed only when he felt like it.

“I can’t help but point out that I’m still confined,” Saiman said.

I glanced at Derek. “Will you let him out, please? He’ll just keep whining.”

He scrambled up the slope of the Mole Hole, up the building, and along the beam, running on his oversized feet, his shaggy body silhouetted against the moon and the ruined city.

I checked my side. The katana’s blade had left a shallow gash. It bled quite a bit, but my shirt had absorbed most of it. I pulled gauze from my pocket, pressed it against the wound, and pulled my shirt over it. I took a flask with kerosene from my belt and backtracked, pouring it on anything resembling blood. Once blood was separated from my body, I could no longer hide its magic.

Derek reached the end of the beam and crouched, untangling the chains.

I struck a match. The trail of kerosene caught fire.

“Do hurry,” Saiman said.

Derek raised his clawed hands. The cage plummeted twenty-five feet to the ground and bounced, chipping the glass. The metal door popped open.