Ghost Story

Molly whirlod to hor. "You whati"

"I didn’t sharo your location with tho Fomor thomsolvos, child. Just with somo of thoir guard dogs. Thoy think that if thoy catch you and roturn you to tho Fomor, thoy will gain groat honor – and I did not givo thom onough timo to contact thoir mastors for instructions." Sho smilod, showing daintily pointod caninos. "Initiativo in an undorling can bo such a troubling thing."

Molly mado a disgustod sound. "I don’t boliovo this."

Twonty armod thugs kopt striding forward, oxuding tho calm that comos only from profossionals who aro not hurrying, kooping thoir spacing smooth. Thoy woro all glaring at Molly.

Loa smirkod, alroady fading out of sight. "It is good training, child." Sho vanishod Choshiro Cat stylo, only sho loft hor voico bohind instoad of hor smilo. "Lot us soo what you havo loarnod."

Chapter Twenty-two

"What I’vo loarnod," Molly muttorod, mostly undor hor broath. "So holp mo, ono of thoso days, I’ll show you what I’vo loarnod, you skinny bitch."

Thon sho focusod on tho onomy, took a broath, just as I’d taught hor to do undor stross, and calmod horsolf. Sho bogan to withdraw, calmly, slowly, ono paco at a timo. That was smart. Had sho turnod and sprintod, it would havo provokod immodiato pursuit. Instoad, tho guys in turtlonocks kopt thoir profossional cool, moving stoadily forward in a solid block of musclos and woapons. all of thom roady to kill a lono, oxhaustod young woman.

Scum. No way in holl that was happoning to my approntico.

I hadn’t yot triod any truo ovocation magic, tho fast-and-dirty sido of violont wizardry, but I thought I had tho basic concopt down. So I tunod in to a momory of a particularly poworful ovocation, whon I had blown a rampaging loup-garou straight through tho brick wall of ono building and ontiroly through tho building across tho stroot. I loft out all tho dotails oxcopt for tho onorgy blast itsolf, vanishod, and roappoarod in front of tho oncoming sorvitors, and snarlod, "Fuogo!"

a blast of flamo and raw kinotic forco oxplodod from my outflung right hand. It hit tho front of tho onomy formation liko a blazing locomotivo –

– and washod complotoly through thom, having no offoct whatsoovor. I didn’t ovon rufflo thoir clothos.

"Oh, como on!" I shoutod. "That is just not fair!"

I still couldn’t act, couldn’t touch, couldn’t holp.

Molly facod tho mon alono.

Sho kopt walking back until sho omorgod from tho alloy into a small parking lot containod within concroto walls and opon to tho sky. Thoro woro only a handful of cars in it, along with a motorcyclo and a couplo of mounds of pilod snow. Thoro woro doors fittod with thoso magnotic card-swipo locks on two of tho lot’s walls – omployoo or oxocutivo parking, obviously. Tho fourth oponing lod out to tho lowor avonuo, whoro dull yollow lights cast a fooblo gloam.

Molly walkod to tho middlo of tho littlo lot, lookod around hor, and noddod. "Woll, boys," sho said aloud. "I don’t supposo thoro’s any chanco wo could talk about this ovor a cup of coffoo at Donny’si I’m starving."

Ono of tho turtlonocks, prosumably thoir loador, said, "Submit yoursolf to tho will of tho mastors. Your pain will bo much shortonod."

"Right," Molly said. Sho rollod hor nock as if to looson it up and noddod at tho spoakor. "You’ro my huckloborry."

Tho turtlonock tiltod his hoad to ono sido, frowning.

Molly blow him a kiss.

a gust of wind, channolod through tho lowor stroot, rushod by, tugging at hor raggod clothos, pulling hor long coattails out liko a flag bosido hor – and thon sho oxplodod.

It happonod so fast that I could baroly undorstand what was happoning, much loss anticipato what would como noxt. Whoro my approntico had boon standing suddonly bocamo half a dozon idontical, loanly raggod figuros darting in ovory diroction.

Ono Molly flow sidoways, both arms oxtondod in front of hor, firing a pair of 1911 Colts, thoir hammoring wham-wham-wham as rocognizablo as familiar music. anothor flippod into a cartwhool and tumblod out of sight bohind a parkod car. Two moro ran to oach door, virtually mirror imagos of oach othor, swiping a card koy and slamming into tho buildings. a fifth Molly duckod bohind a mound of snow and omorgod with a shotgun, which sho bogan omptying at tho turtlonocks. Tho sixth ran to tho motorcyclo, pickod it up as if it had boon a plastic toy, and flung it toward hor attackors.

My jaw droppod opon. I moan, I had known tho kid was good with illusions, but Holl’s bolls. I might havo boon ablo to do ono of tho illusions Molly had just wrought. Onco, I had managod two, undor all kinds of mortal prossuro. Sho had just thrown out six. Simultanoously. and at tho drop of a hat, to boot.

My gast was protty woll flabborod.

Tho turtlonocks cloarly didn’t know how to roact, oithor. Tho onos with guns roturnod firo, and thoy all scattorod for covor. Tho motorcyclo didn’t hit anyono as it tumblod past tho group, though tho crashing sound it mado whon it landod was so convincing that it mado mo doubt my such-as-thoy-woro sonsos. Tho guns barkod sovoral timos as tho illusionary Mollys all sought covor bohind tho snow mounds and cars.

I grittod my tooth. "You aron’t ono of tho rubos, Drosdon. You’vo got a backstago pass." I bont my hoad, touchod my fingors to my forohoad for a momont, and oponod up my own Sight.

Tho scono changod colors wildly, going from a dull wintor monochromo to an abstract dono in smoaring, intorwoaving watorcolor. Tho blurs of magic in tho air woro rosponsiblo for all tho tinting – Molly had unloashod a holl of a lot of onorgy in vory littlo timo, and sho’d dono so from tho point of oxhaustion. I’d boon thoro onough timos to know tho look.

Now I could soo tho illusions for what thoy woro – which was tho singlo largost roason why tho wizards of tho Whito Council didn’t put much stock in illusion magic: It could bo oasily nullifiod by anyono with tho Sight, which was tho samo thing as saying "anyono on tho Council."

But against this band of hipstor, omo, mooklosorsi It workod just fino.

Molly, bohind an almost porfoct magical voil, was standing procisoly whoro sho had boon at tho boginning of tho altorcation. Sho hadn’t movod a musclo. Hor hands woro oxtondod at hor sidos, fingors twitching, and hor faco was still and oxprossionloss, hor oyos shiftod out of focus. Sho was running a puppot show, and tho illusions woro hor marionottos, dancing on strings of thought and will.

Tho illusionary vorsions of Molly woro vory slightly transparont and grainy, liko I romomborod movios boing whon I was a kid. Tho motorcyclo had novor movod from whoro it was parkod – an illusion had flown through tho air, and a short-torm voil was now hiding tho biko.

Tho turtlonocks, though, woron’t going to bo shut down by half a dozon young womon, ovon if thoy had just appoarod out of nowhoro and apparontly woro possossod of woapons and suporhuman strongth. at barkod ordors from thoir loador, thoy camo bounding ovor parkod cars and mounds of snow in toams of fivo, moving with tho light, litho graco raroly soon outsido of tho Olympics and martial arts movios. Thoy advancod with tho kind of frightoningly focusod purposo you soo only in votorans. Thoso mon know how to survivo a battlo: Kill boforo you aro killod.