Tristan flung me toward the group of mages carrying Sebastian to a row of three vans. They only had about ten feet to go. Tristan took off with a burst of speed, spying a couple other mages going in the opposite direction with what must’ve been Nessa. Our other gargoyles, carrying the shifters and their speed no match for Tristan’s, were on their way, going as fast as they could. I needed to stall until they got here.
I swooped down at the ten or so people, a spell at the ready. They’d probably be powerful, having to deal with a mage like Sebastian. Barely in range and I let fly, wanting to get the jump on them before they put up their defenses. My spell hit the two people at the rear, thankfully walking close together. Part of it cracked into one of their shoulders, severing a limb. The other hit farther down—the same effect, if less of the limb.
They screamed, knocked sideways. Being mages, they didn’t try to keep fighting. Instead, they wrapped magic around themselves and crumpled to the ground, rolling and twisting within their pain.
The other mages turned in my direction, but they didn’t look up. These mages must not have been at Kingsley’s and weren’t used to fliers. That, or they were slow to think of the possibility when on strictly mage business.
I hit another one with a lot of power, close now. It cut through him. He barely had time to scream before he hit the ground. My wings beat quickly, making far too much sound. I wasn’t good at gliding like the male gargoyles.
Spells jetted through the night sky, right for me. I banked, wrapping myself in a protective layer, and fired one of my own. It missed, striking the ground. A spell hit my shield, and then two more. The magic singed my defensive layer, definitely powerful.
I banked again, shooting another spell and then dodging one of theirs. A second spell struck me, though, then a third, hammering at my defenses. I fired, thought of a blistering spell that didn’t need as much power, and fired again. Another spell went down, but there were still six more mages. One hustled Sebastian to the van while the others shot spell after intense spell, slamming into me.
My stomach tightened as I dove and then cut right, firing as fast as I could. The flight path helped—they were not used to a moving target—but not enough. Their spells cut chunks out of my defensive layer now. Magic burrowed past and slashed at my tough skin. I took a moment to reapply a stronger defensive shield, giving them that moment to fill my world with jets of magic.
Breathing heavy now, I climbed for distance, still firing. I had more power. At a distance, I could still do damage where theirs wouldn’t be so great. It took more energy, though.
I fired, thought of a simpler and easier spell, and fired again. Their spells still reached me, not digging through my defenses but still sapping my energy and therefore my strength. I fluttered in the air, and they rushed for their vans, leaving their fallen behind.
If they took off, I wouldn’t be able to keep up. Not without Tristan or someone flying me.
Damn it, wherewasTristan?
My heart sped up as I worried he might be in trouble, or that he couldn’t get Nessa. Or that Nessa was already lost.
Choking back fear, I dove again, firing at the mages pausing to get into their vans. They returned fire. One door closed. A mage fell, but another got in. I wasn’t strong enough to blast through metal, and I couldn’t see them within the glass at this angle.
Closer still, as I decided what to do, the sound of wings filled my world. Snarls and roars preceded shifters running toward the vans, led by Austin. The gargoyles must’ve dropped them off before rushing to me. Someone grabbed me and the others surrounded me.
Help had come.
Sebastian
He came to with a crick in his neck, then picked up his head and winced at the stiffness of his body. His hands had been zip-tied behind him and his elbows secured with rope to the sides of a wooden chair. His feet were likewise tied up.
The holding cell was as he might expect, a ten-by-ten space made of cinder blocks, cold and dank. Blood spatter coated a few of the walls, and large, dark stains spread out over the ground. This cell had seen a lot of use.
He wondered if it was Momar’s or the Guild’s.
He wondered if they would trade Nessa for Jessie. Was this what inevitably led to his betrayal of Ivy House?
It had been a vision of his, half-cocked and distorted, as they always were. A feeling more than anything. A dreamscape. He’d gotten a slice of the seergene that ran in his family; he had visions occasionally, and they always came true, often with a lotof bloodshed. By now, he’d learned to just go with them, to find the quickest path and somehow make it work.
Momar would give a great deal to have Jessie and Austin delivered to him. Jessie, they’d repurpose, probably, even though she was an animal by their standards. They wouldn’t want to waste her awesome power—assuming Ivy House would stand for it and not kill the compromised heir itself.
Austin, they’d torture. They’d show his broken body to the shifter world and heft his head on a spike while systematically taking out the rest of his kind.
Sebastian would get repurposed as well, of course. They wouldn’t waste him any more than they would Jessie.
Jessie and Austin, however, would have a chance to break out. Slim at the moment—Sebastian had intended to build them a bigger force—but they were resourceful and powerful. Determined. If anyone could beat Momar, they could. Serving them up to Momar with himself was the only way to directly get them an audience. Those were the rumors all over the mage world, and that was the distorted, strange vision he’d been sucked into.
In order for Jessie to get her chance at striking the elusive mastermind of the mage world, she’d have to be a captive, and Austin and Sebastian with her. She’d have to be betrayed.
He’d have to be the one to do it.
They would win and rightly kill him, or Momar would. Either way, it would be Sebastian’s end.
Wasthishis end?
