Natural Dual-Mage (Page 2)

“Wow, you nailed that description. You should be a report writer for the MLE office.”

I ignored her teasing. “It doesn’t shift into anything else, does it?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Why an old man?” I asked myself softly, scanning the area. Reagan shifted, and brush crackled under her heavy boots. “Would you find a way over here? It’s here, not there. A little help would be nice.”

“Nah. It’s more fun when the mark chases you around.”

My positive and upbeat mood withered. “How you have any friends, I do not know.”

“Me neither. It’s a mystery.”

The vile magic continued to pulse in the air around me, filling my mind with images of ancient ruins, battles waged and lost, and dusty, wind-swept plains.

The last didn’t make sense to me unless it was in a world other than this one, of which there were apparently two. The Realm, for magical folk, and the Underworld, for demons and the like. I hadn’t been to either.

A slow exhale, and I was inching closer to that hole, pulling elements out of the mass above me and winding them into a loose weave. It was an attack spell starter weave—ready to be hurled at the enemy after I stuffed in another component or two. I’d devised this approach when training with Reagan so I could get closer to matching Emery’s speed in creating rapid-fire spells.

“Don’t jump out at me,” I whispered, drawing closer to the hole as a furious tingling overcame my body. My legs started to tremble, and my Temperamental Third Eye insisted I brandish a sword and go on a killing rampage.

My Temperamental Third Eye, something much like intuition but a lot more persistent, had saved my life more than once. Even so, it had always been wonky, and after our huge battle with the Guild’s hired thugs, it was downright screwy. The thing wanted me to be like Reagan, unhinged and ready to charge into a battle at any moment.

I now actively ignored it, lest I lose my grip on reality.

“Are you hiding in there?” I whispered, feeling the expectation around me rise. Feeling danger draw closer.

I dashed forward and kicked into the hole to clear the way before blasting magic in it.

Rustling sounded behind me.

I spun and threw another spell, green flying through the empty air. A single branch waved. Neither an old man nor a goblin was perched on it.

Dancing backward, I bent to look at the hole at the base of the tree. It gaped emptily up at me.

“Why’d you pick such a small hole to accost?” Reagan called over in a voice suggesting she badly wanted a seat and some popcorn with which to watch the show.

“Because things always seem to jump out at me, and to do that around here, it would have to be in that hole. I figured I’d beat it to the punch.”

“Umhm.” This would be when she put a few more popcorn kernels into her mouth.

I pushed her from my mind and crouched, turning in a circle. The branch above me waved to a slow stop. The wind worried the leaves on the ground, creating a tiny amount of movement. Everything else was still.

“That thing might not be silent, but it is very, very quiet.” Forcing myself to remember to breathe, I scanned the mossy trunks until my eyes landed on the messy branches reaching overhead. If that thing dropped down on me, I’d lose it. I would absolutely lose it. The only thing worse than the unknown jumping out at you like a bloody jack-in-the-box was it thunking down onto your head like bird poop.

“How many groups have tried to catch this thing, did you say?” I asked, getting another starter spell ready, knowing it could see me from its hidden location. I felt its eyes digging into my back. Its magic festering within mine.

Kill. Soak. Ruin.

Soak. It wanted to dip its hat in my blood.

“Your attachment to messed-up fashion is freaking cracked, did you know that, you miserable, buck-toothed donkey?”

Much to Reagan’s dismay, I hadn’t gotten any better at swearing. I couldn’t, not with my mother around. She’d stayed in New Orleans after that last battle. Every time I thought of swearing, there she was, ready to lecture me. It wasn’t worth the hassle for an f-bomb. It really wasn’t.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to follow its magic back to the source. But it hung in the air around me, floating like fog, listless and lazy. I couldn’t get a reading.

“Two groups,” Reagan answered. “The first group was just assessing the situation. One of them lost an arm and bled out.”

“Bled out…like bled to death?”

“Yeah. Died.” She paused, probably to see if I’d ask another rush of questions, like why she hadn’t shared that chestnut before I accepted the gig. “The next group was supposedly Ireland’s best. Two guys and a girl. Tough as nails, I heard. As experienced as they come, and boasting a near-perfect capture record.”

“They couldn’t find it, or…?”

“Oh no, they didn’t find it. The Redcap found them. That’s what usually happens. People don’t see it, they go wandering by, and it springs out at them and goes to work. A couple seconds is all it needs. Or so I was told by the local MLE office.” I could imagine her waving a hand dismissively. “Stories always get bigger, and the enemy more extravagant, when someone fails.” She paused for a second, and branches creaked overhead, gently swaying in the breeze that had kicked up. Freezing air slid across my cheeks, and my nose started to run from the intense cold. “Of course, one of the bounty hunters from the last team did get torn up pretty badly…”

Her voice trailed away and I stiffened. “Did he or she die?”

“Yeah. He didn’t even get a chance to bleed out. They dragged him out as the creature scampered away with its bloody hat. The other two wouldn’t go back in. They were rattled. Said this Redcap is much more powerful than the rest of its kind.” She huffed. “But like I said, stories always get bigger to justify a failure.”

I clenched my teeth as I worked my way back toward more of the fairy stuff, the vibrant pops of color distracting among the muted greens and browns. The magic seemed thicker over here, pumping into the air in waves. The smooth trunks and bare branches didn’t harvest any ugly old men, though. No large red eyes blinked at me from the soft shadows in the overcast day. Everything looked peaceful. Serene.

“It should be here,” I whispered, frowning. I turned in a circle, my senses screaming at me. The source of the corrosive magic was in my vicinity. I could feel it.

But where was it?

“People just go wandering by, huh?” I asked quietly, my footfalls soft, my hands held out and ready. I couldn’t feel my fingers. Magic twisted and boiled above me. My upbeat mood was long gone.

“Yeah. The MLE office says no one knows how the hell they missed it. One second it was all clear, and the next they were ambushed. But there didn’t seem to be anywhere for the creature to hide.”

“Hidden in plain sight,” I said softly, trying to work out this problem.

A birdhouse on a stick, unpainted and constructed of faded wood, rose to my left, not nearly as fresh and cheery as the rest of the fairy village. Possibly it was a relic from the time before the village had been created as an attraction for the local children.

Next to it sat a little stone gargoyle-looking thing with a dopey smile, moss covering its head and shoulders, and a cheery red scarf wrapped around its neck in an effort to make it fit in with the surroundings. About ten feet beyond it, I could see another stump with a tiny door and little round stones leading to it. Off to the side, a miniature stone leprechaun lay back in its buckled hat and green coat.

I continued on, my teeth clenched and my spell ready. Shivers crept up my spine. The wind moaned.

The goblin’s magic intensified. Came pulsing toward me in strong waves.

Confused, I stopped and then back-pedaled, feeling for the source of the magic. I stopped five feet from that gargoyle-looking thing with the dopey smile. And the deep red scarf. The color of blood.

Hiding in plain sight.

“You’re positive it can’t shift into other forms?” I asked in a hush, staring at the stone gargoyle. Feeling the potent, vile magic pumping into the air.

Stone eyes moved. Changed. Colorized.

Turned as red as the scarf.

My mouth went dry.

I worked a few final elements into my spell, preparing to blast the thing. I just needed to get distance between us before it launched at me.

Too late.

Stone crumbled away, revealing crusty, deep gray skin. Long, curved claws at the end of knobby, knuckled hands flew up. It pushed out of its crouch and jumped at me faster than I could flinch.

I didn’t even have time to scream.

2

I knew one moment of blind terror before something body-slammed the creature from the side. Reagan. Her sword came up and flashed downward as they tumbled onto the ground.

She’d been across the freaking river! I hadn’t heard any water splashing.

Stupid me. For a second I’d forgotten she could fly-hover with her nutso-powerful magic. Thoughts were slow in getting through my head.

The creature screeched and twisted, swiping a claw toward her face. She jerked back, her faster-than-human speed saving her.

“Fast fucker, aren’t you?” I heard her say in a series of grunts. She hacked at its limbs with her sword, but the creature was on the move, twisting out from under her weight and springing up.