Jono shook his head. “I thought dealing with Marek as one god’s vessel was a headache. You win the prize, Pat.”
“He’s not a vessel,” Nadine muttered right before she shot the lock off the door and kicked it open.
She advanced into an open foyer that led into a large living area with murder in her eyes. Patrick was right on her six, Jono close behind him. As soon as they crossed the threshold, Patrick could hear the screams coming from within the home.
Three people dressed for a day on the beach were writhing on the floor in agony, bodies twisted in half-shifted forms as a pair of sorcerers called forth their beasts. The two men looked up at their entrance, turning to ward off the unexpected threat, but it was too little, too late.
Sorcerers might have been on the stronger end of the magic spectrum, but they had nothing on a mage, and they definitely had nothing on a bullet to the heart. Patrick pulled the trigger, the first spelled bullet taking out the closest sorcerer in the chest, the second cutting through his head at an angle. Nadine took out the man’s partner, and the ugly black spell circles glowing malevolently beneath the werecreatures disappeared.
The victims, members of Emma’s Tempest pack, lay sprawled on the floor in their half-shifted state, alive but barely conscious. Patrick cased the area and saw no demonic threat, but the taint in his own magic was screaming a warning at him he knew better than to ignore.
“Jono, do you hear anyone else in the house?” Patrick asked as they moved forward, stepping over the three werecreatures and the bodies of the dead sorcerers.
“No,” Jono got out tightly. “They’re all outside.”
Nadine wrapped a barrier ward around the werecreatures they left behind, encasing them in solid safety. “First group secure.”
Patrick let his weapon lead the way forward, his magic a persistent warning buzz beneath his skin. They cleared every room between them and the broken french glass doors at the rear of the mansion leading to a backyard empty of the Tempest pack but not the enemy.
The man and woman stood between them and the path leading to the beach. Dressed in clothes that wouldn’t be out of place in an office, with their magic meshed together to form a shield, the Dominion Sect acolytes seemed to be expecting them.
Patrick raised his voice. “Federal agent! Draw back your magic and stand down.”
In response, the woman hurtled a bolt of raw magic at them that slammed into Nadine’s shield. The attack exploded upon impact, but the shield never wavered.
“Guess that’s a no,” Nadine said.
Patrick took his hand off the barrel and called up a mageglobe, weaving the barrage spell through its shape. He waved two fingers in a single forward motion that sent the mageglobe streaking forward, passing harmlessly through Nadine’s shield. The Dominion Sect acolytes didn’t know what hit them until it was too late.
Military grade spells weren’t supposed to be used against civilians. Patrick figured the SOA would probably give him a pass when it came to the Dominion Sect. The barrage spell ripped through the sorcerers’ shield like so much paper. The blowback from the concussive force of the hit shattered the lower level windows of the mansion behind them. Torn-up grass, dirt, and body parts rained down around them.
A blackened crater now marred the backyard, but that was the least of their worries. Nadine modified her shield for mobility, and they quickly moved forward toward the beach, the rain beginning to come down harder. The curl of waves crashing to shore in the Atlantic were frothy whitecaps driven by strong winds.
Patrick smelled the sea, but he tasted hell.
His magic was frayed in his soul, but the Greek coins clicked quietly together in his pocket, and his dagger was within reach. The weapons didn’t make him feel better about the situation.
They crested the wooden stairs leading to the beach. On the sand below were members of the Tempest pack huddled behind the rapidly fading shield Tyler could no longer hold up. Rachel’s coordinated magical attack with other acolytes was moments away from breaking through Tyler’s shield. Marek stood surrounded by Emma, Leon, and Sage, but werecreatures didn’t have much hope against magic.
“Go time,” Patrick said.
They had their roles in the field, and they didn’t need to talk the details out. Nadine cut right, raising a barrier ward around the Tempest pack right as Tyler’s shield collapsed. Rachel’s attack rebounded off the shield, crashing back into a couple of witches who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. They were thrown off their feet, falling back down to earth meters away.
Patrick’s feet sank into wet sand as he cleared the last step, blinking rain out of his eyes. Through his magic he could sense the suffocating presence of hell beginning to permeate their immediate area.
“The SOA might want you alive, but I’d be more than happy to put you in a grave, Rachel,” Patrick yelled to be heard over the wind.
The soon-to-be former SAIC turned to face him, her face a mask of rage. “It’s a shame you didn’t die in your car.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
Nadine snorted as they kept advancing. “Understatement.”
“Go guard the others and keep them safe. Soultakers in ten,” Patrick warned. “Nine.”
“Tapped into a ley line,” Nadine replied. “Jono, with me. Eight.”
“I’m staying with Patrick,” Jono argued.
