I danced out of the way so Steve could pounce on someone, fitting his massive jaw over their skull and shaking. I changed up the weave this time, remembering how the magic had worked with the last. Emery filled in easily. Reagan waited to add her bit.
“How many of these do you think they have?” she asked, traces of fatigue riding her words. She’d already poured so much of herself into the fight.
“Three barons.” Emery pointed at a shoe that had flown off the foot of its wearer. “One.” He pointed in another direction. “Two, if the shifters got that one.”
“They did. Roger’s teams have excellent follow-through. Ask Vlad and Darius. So one more, then.” Reagan stepped out of the way as we threw out a spell. This time, it struck a little harder and sank in deeper before spinning to life and expanding, eating the spell away from the inside before spouting flame. Reagan’s fire kindled a moment later, creating the illusion it was growing out of our spell, and ate across the outside of the fog.
“Maybe the High Chancellor,” Emery said as we started forward with a group of shifters and vampires in tow. The fog had already started drifting our way. Now it marginally sped up, in lazy, powerful pursuit.
We took off at a jog, joined by shifters and vampires. With the horde growing, we had an easy time picking off mages in twos and threes. A little farther, and I saw where Vlad had gone.
In a dirt patch that had probably once been grass, vampires tore through another gathered mass of mages, their ingredients scattered across the ground. Spells zipped or flared, but the vampires cut through them with their claws, working efficiently to take out the mages. Roger’s team was gathered at the periphery, letting no one escape. Locking them all in with the vampires.
This mass of mages hadn’t been able to get their huge spell off the ground.
“That Vlad is good,” I said with grudging respect.
“Yeah. He didn’t get where he is for nothing,” Reagan said, turning. Darius stayed with her. “Right. That’s group three. Either we have a High Chancellor getting another group ready… There’s the fog coming. Let’s change locations. It has another ten minutes before my—the fire can eat through it.”
“Why would they make it move so slowly?” I asked, starting up a jog. My feet ached and my legs felt like jelly. I was running out of steam.
“If the three spells were drifting around at once, following you? The amount of effort and power it would take to bring even one of them down would’ve severely weakened…a normal mage. It would’ve kept you on the run. And then the many mages could have just slowly corralled you and blocked you in. You would’ve had to fight too many battles at once. But three things went wrong for them. They didn’t get the spells all going in time, they weren’t organized for the follow up, and they underestimated our power. It was a great plan, badly executed.”
“The phone is buzzing again,” Emery said, reaching for his pocket as a group of mages jogged into our line of sight. They stopped quickly, reached for their satchels, and…as one, they took off running back the way they’d come.
Reagan kicked up speed to follow them, the rest of us close behind. We ran around the corner, in hot pursuit, seeing them head for a building with an open door.
“We need to check the buildings,” Emery said. “Flush them out.”
As we hurried out into the middle of a collection of buildings, all the doors opened at once. Banged off the sides of walls. A veil of throbbing magic unrolled all at once between the buildings and dropped to the ground. Zips of magic flew high, spreading out and landing on top of the collection of buildings, securing the corners of the veil.
Each spell surged with power, each weave was tight and controlled, done by someone with a deft hand. Orchestrated perfectly.
Trapping our small host.
“They were saving their Natural,” Emery said.
36
Purple-clad mages filed out and stretched out to the sides, creating a circle around us, satchels open at their sides and little round balls collected in their hands. Casings. They’d prepared all their spells ahead of time and could pose a rapid-fire attack for those they needed out of the way so they could trap Emery and I in. Another group of mages surged out, bedecked in red and orange, more than the first rush, filling in any holes in the circle or standing behind. Finally, a woman with a stern face, straight shoulders, and haunted eyes sauntered into our midst. The circle of mages opened a small gap that she could walk into, and the bright gold robe couldn’t possibly overshadow the armor of confidence draped across her body.
The Natural. It had to be.
Reagan stood very still next to me. Emery was completely tense. Cahal had his hand on my shoulder. Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky throbbed with power and pleasure, in its element.
“I can probably break us out of here,” Reagan said quietly as movement flickered within one of the open windows.
“Probably?” Emery asked.
“It depends on how quickly they can fire off their spells.” For the first time that I’d ever fought with her, she didn’t sound sure.
Tendrils of panic wrapped around my chest.
Steve made a chuffing sound, his great lion form at our backs, his tail flicking lazily. I had no idea what any of it meant.
More mages showed up, gathering on the outside of the magical veil, waiting to battle the vampires and shifters who came to our aid.
“So many,” Emery whispered, shaking his head slowly and looking around at the circle enclosing us. “They’ve collected so many.”
“The promise of power is clearly alluring to a great many mages.” Reagan’s voice was filled with acid.
A phone vibrated as Darius pushed in close to Reagan.
“Keep thinking, Darius,” Reagan said quietly. “Try to find the best approach.”
“If you see an opening, Cahal, get her out,” Emery said.
“Nope.” My mind raced as I shrugged off Cahal’s grip on my shoulder, looking at the mages’ faces, the positioning of their bodies and hands. Taking a sampling of the—once again—stifling air. Something about their magic always cut off the natural element. “What do the colors of the robes mean?”
“Purple represents the highest tier of power in their hierarchy. They never, ever used to have this many.” Emery paced in a circle, looking at the mages gathered around us. “Orange is the next highest, and red are the sheriffs. Some high, some maybe middle, but all excellent at fighting with magic. Thankfully, they only have one gold. I was worried they might’ve found another.”
One, while surrounded by this mass of lesser power, was plenty.
“So we’re surrounded by a collection of their absolute best fighters, equipped with pre-made spells,” I summed up.
“Yep, that about sums it up.” Reagan’s voice held no humor.
“But why haven’t they attacked yet?” I whispered.
“Because they want you alive.”
“Well, well, well.” A man wearing a long, shiny blue robe emerged from the doorway closest to us. With a withered face fraught with sagging skin, buoyed by a blue scarf, and knobby, gnarly fingers, he looked way up in his years and in need of a comfortable reading chair and a fire, not a magical battle in the middle of the night.
“The High Chancellor,” Emery said, anger lacing his voice.
“Here they said it couldn’t be done.” The man’s voice sounded like old, crackly paper. “But alas, I have caught the famous Rogue Natural and his beautiful assistant.”
“Ooh, Penny, I’d be pissed,” Reagan said, throwing knife in hand. “By the by, that robe is an extremely loud shade of blue. Are you trying to compensate for something? Your equally extreme lack of youth, perhaps?”
“She’s trying to rile him up,” Emery whispered, his eyes roaming. “People do irrational things when they’re angry or being badgered. Keep looking for an out.”
“I must admit”—the man stopped just in front of the line of mages dressed in purple—“I did not think you’d get through the ward, much less escape my teams’ spells. I barely approved the lengthy practice sessions required to prepare the mages to create those monstrosities. Overkill, I thought. And this last bit? Just a precaution. Yet…” He spread his hands, gesturing toward us. “Here we are. Miraculous. Can this all be contributed to two derelict naturals…or is it their silent partner who made the difference?” His eyes slid to Reagan.