Ilona Andrews - Magic Slays

Jim turned and raised his hand. A young shapeshifter ran from group to group. At the far end of the field, mages raised their staves. Magic popped, like a large firecracker, and seven green bursts exploded in the sky.

THE SHAPESHIFTERS LINED UP ALONG THE WARD’S perimeter. Some I knew, some I didn’t. I sat on top of the Jeep. I’d need the energy for the fight.

Next to me Ghastek stood, leaning on the Jeep’s hood, looking slightly absurd in a formal black suit and a gun-gray shirt. Two vampires sat at his feet like bald, mutated cats, both coated in bright lime-green sunblock. Ghastek had enough range to navigate vampires from the other end of the city. Unlike us, he didn’t have to be here in person.

“Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be off hiding in some armored bus miles away?”

Ghastek glanced at me. “Derision, Kate? How unlike you. I’m here because when this unfortunate affair is over, people will remember who was here and who wasn’t.”

“I take it Mulradin chose to evacuate.”

Ghastek bent his lips a little. It was almost a smile. “It’s an unfortunate fact of life that some people value discretion above valor. As the saying goes, fortune favors the brave.”

Or the foolish. “And of course, the fact that if we survive this, you’ll come out looking like a hero has nothing to do with your decision.”

He widened his eyes. “Why, Kate, you might be right. If only I had thought of that.”

Maybe one of the Keepers would shoot him.

Below us Kamen stared at the ward. Two younger volhvs watched him. He said that about twenty minutes before the activation, the device would send out a “plume” of magic. Whatever the hell that meant. When the shit was about to hit the fan, we’d get a short warning.

Kamen also said that raising the device off the ground extended its range by about a mile. We thought the Keepers were aiming for the city center. We were wrong. They were aiming for the densely populated neighborhoods just outside. The MSDU provided protection in case of emergency. Real estate next to the Unit was highly priced, and the Pack owned a quarter of it. That was where the shapeshifters who worked in the city built their homes.

All the Keeper claims of “we regret casualties” had been complete bullshit. They aimed for casualties. Wiping out these neighborhoods would snap the backbone of the city. Atlanta’s citizens would panic and flee, and the Keepers could purge the entire city at their leisure.

A long forlorn cry rolled through the sky. I raised my hand to my eyes, shielding them from the sunlight. A huge dark bird circled the dome once, enormous wings stretched wide, and landed in the far field. A man slid off its back and jogged over. Amadahy, one of the Cherokee shamans.

Amadahy came to a stop near Curran. His voice carried to us. “The bunkers have no roof. There is a catapult in each one and a small cheiroballista. There are guns, too.”

“Are there people in the bunkers?” Curran asked.

Amadahy nodded. “They were priming the catapults as I flew over.”

The catapult would lob something nasty our way, and the cheiroballista would shoot us with bolts while we ran around trying to avoid it. Great.

Thomas and Robert Lonesco came along the line of the shapeshifters. Thomas was tall, well over six feet. Robert, his spouse, leaned toward dark and delicate, with large brown eyes and a narrow face. They spoke to Curran.

“Just out of curiosity, does your paramour have an actual plan to breach this ward, or is he just making it up as he goes along?”

“Ghastek, do you want to lead this attack alone?”

“No thanks. I’m after the benefits, not the responsibility.”

“Then shut up.”

Robert Lonesco stepped forward to the ward and raised his hand. Behind him members of Clan Rat formed into five columns, four people wide, three people deep. Robert closed his hand into a fist. The columns split into an upside-down V formation, with Robert at the head of the center V.

Robert stripped off his sweats. For a second he stood nude, and then his skin burst. Muscle whipped and stretched like elastic cords, and a wererat crouched in his place, one enormous clawed paw leaning on the ground. A green glow washed over Robert’s eyes. Behind him the rats shed their humanity. Robert raised his muzzle to the sky. A deep ragged voice broke free of his mouth. “Foooooorrrrrrwaaaard.”

The rats crouched down as one and dug into the ground. Dirt flew.

“Interesting tactic,” Ghastek murmured.

We wouldn’t need to break the ward. We would simply tunnel under it. Nice.

Andrea ran up to the Jeep and climbed up next to me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Teams of four shapeshifters began dragging wooden beams and laying them down behind the rats to reinforce the tunnel.

I glanced at Ghastek. “Aren’t you going to help them dig?”

Ghastek shrugged. “A vampire is a precision instrument, not a bulldozer.”

The front lines of the rats had vanished into the ground. They only had to go about fifty feet or so. The ward itself was narrow, but to get under it would take some effort.

Twenty minutes later the ground on the other side of the ward shifted. The first of the wererats emerged from the dirt.

Something sparked with orange in the slit of the bunker’s narrow window. Probably the catapult inside. Sound rolled, and a bright orange ball shot from the roofless bunker. It whistled through the air and crashed right at the middle column, exploding into orange liquid. The liquid splattered in a wide arc. Two other bunkers followed suit, adding more orange goo to the mess. Yellow lightning danced on its surface. The fluid caught fire.

Hoarse screams, half growls, half yelps followed. The tunnels on our side of the ward vomited the wererats in a dark flood. The front ranks of the diggers bore blisters where their fur had been burned clean. Robert was the last to emerge. His left arm was a mess of scalded muscle, the skin charred, almost black. He snarled and walked over to Thomas. The rat alpha clasped his mate’s hand into his and pointed at Doolittle and his medics, set up in the field behind us.

The fire raged beyond the ward. The shapeshifters continued to carry wooden beams into the tunnels, reinforcing them.

I petted my sword. Every second counted.

“Does Curran not involve you in his strategic sessions?” Ghastek asked.

“Nope, I’m just here to look pretty.” Curran didn’t need me. I wasn’t a general; I was a weapon in need of a target. Arranging large groups of people into an attack force wasn’t my thing.

Finally the flames subsided. A group of volhvs stepped forward, led by Grigorii. The druids formed up next to them behind Cadeyrn, their leader. The two groups split among the five tunnels and went in.

Silence claimed the field. The three bunkers closest to the tunnel blazed with orange, ready and primed to throw more burning crap on our heads.

Above the tunnel exits, beyond the ward, the air shimmered like heat rising from the pavement on a scorching summer day.

“What is that?” Ghastek squinted.

“Insects.”

The shimmers condensed into dark clouds. For a long second the five swarms hung above the ground, and then they streaked across the field to the bunkers. The swarms sank into the fortifications as if sucked in. Sharp screams followed. A man dashed from the right bunker, chased by a dark insect cloud, ran ten feet, and fell. The cloud peeled off. He didn’t move.

The volhvs and druids emerged from the tunnels and into the open.

Ghastek took a box from his pocket and checked it. “One hour and three minutes until activation.”

I rose. First ward down. Two to go.

THE SECOND WARD OF TRANSLUCENT PALE BLUE wasn’t a bouncer. Less than two miles in diameter, it covered the concourses and the inner buildings of the airport. It also looked thick and hard to break. Solid concrete stretched for twenty-five yards on either side of the ward. Digging under it would take forever, and we were short on time.