She aimed and fired, landing the dart neatly in his upper shoulder on the first shot.
“Nice shot,” I said as I watched him sway on his feet, shaking his head angrily and trying to charge again.
“Not my first tranquilization, unfortunately.”
I arched an eyebrow her way, but she didn’t elaborate, just stared grimly through the bars. It only took a few minutes for the lone wolf to fall under the dart’s influence, and when he collapsed, I swung open the cell door.
After checking he was well and truly out, I waved the two healers in. They got to work examining him, while I focused on the collar.
It was absolutely crawling with magic. Three strands, just as Rubix had said. It wasn’t going to be easy to interpret, let alone unravel. “How long until he wakes up?” I asked, twisting the collar carefully so a new section pointed up.
“Less than twenty minutes. Fifteen is our safety limit.”
Damn. That wasn’t long. I whipped my phone out of my pocket, turned on the microphone, and started reading off everything I saw. Worst-case scenario, I could review it later. There was a smithy here, and I was sure I could borrow it if it meant possibly forging a tool to help release the captive supes.
There were sigils in gnomish for making the wearer return to the sender, dwarvish strengthening runes, and a word repeated over and over in a steady stream underlying it all in sparkling pixie magic.
Obey.
Motherfucker. I read as quickly as I could and had made nearly a full circuit when the wolf’s ear twitched.
“I’ve got movement,” I warned, wanting the women to stay clear. I’d promised both of their mates I’d keep an eye out.
Olivia glanced at her watch. “We should have three more minutes. Can you take it off him? We’ll have to wait a few days to tranquilize him again, or we risk his health.”
I squinted at a tiny inscription written along what I believed to be a jagged seam, where the metal had been welded into place. It looked more like a carpentry dovetail joint than any metalwork I’d ever seen, but magic augmentation made almost anything possible.
Goddess, we’d gotten a break. One of the creators had hidden a removal spell on the seam. Did the pixie king know that, or was this a microrebellion from one of his captive crafters? I hoped it was the latter, because fuck tyrants.
“I believe we can remove it.”
“Give me a ratio,” Brielle ordered.
I winced. What if this was a trap, set to kill the wearer instead of releasing them? “Sixty-forty.”
“Sixty success or sixty failure?” Brielle asked.
“Honestly? It’s a toss-up. This talent is new to me.”
She grimaced. “Do it. If there’s a chance, we need to try. I don’t want him stuck down here three more days if he doesn’t have to be.”
I nodded, quickly unsheathing my guardian’s blade. I spun the collar until the seam I’d found was facing up, and carefully aligned the very tip of my sword at the seam.
I read the sigils aloud as slowly as I dared, pressing down on the sword, applying steady pressure.
The whole collar began to glow green, and I heard a sharp inhale from one of the women.
I kept reciting from memory, encouraged that the collar was responding. The tip of the sword slid forward, about half an inch into the thick collar.
A paw twitched, a low growl coming from the wolf’s throat, and I had a decision to make. I couldn’t send the women outand keep reading. But I was only halfway through, and he might also move and impale himself on my sword if he woke before I finished.
I jerked my head toward the door, urging the women to leave, but neither budged.
I recited faster, my tongue tripping over the unfamiliar gnomish language as he began to move more. The sword slid down another quarter inch.
Almost there, almost there.
His eyes popped open, and he turned his head to look up at me, orange eyes calling forth my own wolf’s turquoise gaze.
