A magical blast pulsed out from the warehouse, vibrating Stefan’s core. Sasha’s magical influence in his body reared up, soaking in that blast and ingesting it. He felt high from giddiness. If he had to face off with Trek, he might just win. After taking Sasha’s blood, he was still a small step behind in power, but he’d trained harder. He had more finesse. Knew more tricks and attacks.
If Sasha lay unconscious, what he had would have to be enough.
“Dulcha!” Charles roared, his body covered in blood and burns. His tattoos lit up in a pale gold, active and working.
It just got real.
*****
“Maybe the mark relays location,” Andris estimated as he crouched by my head, looking me over.
I blinked blood out of my eye. I’d banged my skull pretty hard on that last lovely little ditty, opening a gash. “What does it matter?” I croaked. “He’s here. He knows.”
“It matters because he still might not find us.” The White Mage flung his cape in a temper as he paced. “If it is that mark, which makes the most sense of anything—you took her cell phone?”
“Of course. And we don’t have coverage down here, anyway.” Andris flexed his gloved hands.
“Right. Well, I can think of nothing else. Which means this will end by killing her. We can then leave some men behind to take him down while we make an escape. We will be safe, this portion of the area will remain undetected, and his forces will be trimmed.”
“She has to have more value than a plaything. Stefan wouldn’t risk his clan for a pretty human,” Andris reasoned.
The White Mage reflected, turning to me. “He’s right. What is so exciting about you, girl?”
I laughed sardonically as he stood there, patiently waiting for an answer as though we were chatting over tea. My laugh turned into a wet cough. “I have candy flavored nipples.”
Trek scoffed. “Bring in a Dulcha. We’ll let it feed off her for a few minutes. They tend to have more influence on people like this. Hurry—we need to wrap this up. They’re nearly inside.”
Intuition said to be ready. Something was about to happen. Some chance would be available for a brief moment, and I’d have to take it then or not at all.
I struggled to sit, puffing through burnt lungs to do it. “That was a helluva punch with magic.” I wheezed at a pacing, billowing-caped moron. “You have to show me how you did it one of these days.”
He faced me, those pale eyes looking like a blue shirt after it had been bleached. “It takes much more power than a feeble, human red.” His smile turned predatory. “But I will give you another demonstration after the Dulcha has had its feed.”
“Oh good; how exciting.”
*****
Stefan stood, bewildered, in the middle of a battle, in the middle of one room of three. He should be standing next to Sasha. He felt like he stood next to Sasha. Yet, each of the three rooms was largely bare, holding nothing more than seats and tables.
If he couldn’t feel Sasha, he would’ve thought he’d landed in a trap.
“What next, boss, no one is here!” Charles yelled, twirling between a one-armed man and a Dulcha with curved magical horns spraying something similar to acid. The beast took down as many of its own men as his. Maybe more so.
“She should be here,” Stefan shouted, stepping toward an oncoming man with a glowing purple sword. Stefan met the man’s sword with his own, snapping it in two, then stabbing the body attached to it. “C’mon love, give me a sign.”
*****
The shape blurred as it approached, my brain attempting to blackout in an attempt to escape any more pain. I felt Stefan on top of me, which must mean I was below level. Hence, the cape crusader’s assurance he wouldn’t find us. So, basically, I had to blow shit up to make some noise.
Luckily, that was one of my specialties. Unluckily, I couldn’t reach my damn magic.
A spiked demon came into view. Cross a porcupine with a bull, and you might have it. Worse, glowing red eyes and steam or smoke from its nostrils. The stupid thing was packing power.
My chest warmed as it neared—that special magic elixir these things had, calling to me as usual, but unable to fully affect me with the magic block. It hesitated near my head, turning back to, apparently, its master, the White Mage.
“You make those things, then, huh?” I asked casually, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to if I ever wanted to beat this clown.
He preened. “Very few in the world can. I’ve mastered the art.”
“Well, whoop-de-doo.”
Getting the nod, the spiky creature approached me, glowing eyes staring down. “Join me,” it rasped.