Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem Book 2) Page 19

  “What? Where?” Reagan hopped up on the lip of the fountain.

  “There.” I pointed. “Just through there. I saw her meander by.”

  “Meander, huh.” Reagan gracefully jogged along the lip, not at all concerned about losing her balance on the half-foot-wide surface and falling into the dirty pond. “She thinks she has nothing to fear, does she?”

  I picked up the pace and met Reagan as she hopped off the fountain at the far end. “How do you know?”

  She shook her head. “Where did you see her, exactly? And in what form?”

  “Lady form. I couldn’t tell if she was young, but she wasn’t old. Right through there.” I pointed. “But she was moving that way.”

  “Time to rock.” And Reagan was off at a fast jog, heading in the opposite direction of the banshee.

  “This is where we need a plan,” I said, not knowing what else to do other than run after her. I certainly wasn’t going in the direction the thing was going. I might get tucked into the chariot of death before Reagan could save me.

  “Never do what they want you to do. We don’t follow the rules.” Reagan did a circle in the air with her finger. “Circle around.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said desperately, crashing through the bushes into a small opening with a bench off to one side and a small path running through it. Leafy trees and bushes blocked off my visibility beyond the opening, making me a prime target for a banshee ambush.

  Reagan was already ten feet in front of me, with the distance growing.

  I launched forward, trying to open myself to the world around me, and instead noticed all the little pockets of darkness dotting the way. Anything could jump out of those pockets. Sure, the size was off for a person-sized ghoul, but if she could change form, maybe she could change size.

  Various banshee forms rolled through my head, effectively eliminating my ability to summon spells. I couldn’t tell if that was better or worse.

  The path forked—I could either go straight ahead or turn left through the trees. I hadn’t seen which way Reagan had ducked. The leaves on the right shivered. It wasn’t until I had turned left and was jogging past another bench that I noticed all the leaves were shivering and the branches ahead, where the path dumped into empty space, shook.

  It was just the wind.

  I released a heavy breath.

  “Reagan?” I called as loudly as I dared, slowing on the path. Dried leaves rubbing together filled the silence, like an audience laughing and cheering at my vaudeville act of bounty hunting.

  “Reagan?” I called again, a little louder.

  A soft song drifted over and around the bushes flanking the path. Sweet yet sad, the music was intended to bring tears to my eyes. Wisps of magic rode the breeze, trying to pull me to the left side of the path.

  There wasn’t a specific spell being aimed at me. More of a feeling. A deep longing to feel the warm embrace of a loved one, safe and secure. It didn’t even claw at me, though the underlying intent seemed to hint that it would, but it stroked my face and cupped my cheek.

  “Hells to the no.” I took off, running faster than Reagan had and aiming for an open area up the way. I needed to see this thing coming.

  The soft song turned into an intense wail, loud and long. It pulled back the fuzzy blanket and exposed a set of iron fangs, chomping through the air right on my tail.

  I chanced a look back. My eyes didn’t see anything, but my imagination was really going wild on this one, and it was severely messing me up.

  A body burst out of the bushes in front of me. Magic swirled around it, whipping and lashing. An old woman reached for me, welcoming me into her arms.

  “Cluster-sucking wally twat!” Reagan had taught me some new Euro-slang that Americans (namely my mother) might not realize were swear words.

  My mind buzzed, no spells at the ready, so I reacted how I did when Reagan was after me and I had nothing magical with which to beat her back.

  I pulled my fisted hands to my chest, jumped into the air, and struck out with my foot, the execution perfect.

  My shoe hit the banshee’s face. I pulled my leg in, landed on balanced, evenly spaced feet, jabbed with my left hand and, seeing the old woman reeling, stepped forward and delivered a strong right hook.

  Without slowing down, I pivoted and took off running. I was no freaking hero.

  I dove through the bushes, followed by a scream-wail like nails on chalkboard. Once on the other side, I heaved a sigh, seeing a stretch of grass to the right. I just had to make it—

  A body crashed through the bushes on my left.

  I screeched and spun, punching out. A hard forearm swiped through the air, knocking my fist away. Only then did I see who it was.

  “Where is it?” Reagan asked, completely cool.

  “Sorry…” I jogged farther away from the bushes. “There.” I pointed back the way I’d come.

  She was gone in an instant, crashing through like a rampaging elephant.

  “Crazy,” I said between pants. “She’s…crazy.”

  But she was also my partner, and I couldn’t leave her to chase that thing on her own, regardless of how excited she was by the prospect.

  “Bollocks.” I jumped in after her, finding her on the other side, crouched, her sword in hand. She shoved me behind her when I staggered into her side, and put her finger to her lips.

  I put my hands out like claws, because without a sword, I had to do something scary, and let the night roll over me. The dense smell of foliage greeted my senses and the moisture of the night layered my skin. Stars blinked down at us from overhead and the breeze ruffled my hair.

  Everything stabilized. My fear drifted into the background and my brain stopped buzzing. Nature reached out her comforting hand for me, and I took it. Within one of my compartments, I felt a power stone beg to be taken out.

  It was the rock Emery had sent me from Ethiopia, Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky. I was now pretty sure it was most pleased when around danger. Like Emery when certain moods struck him.

  “There you go,” Reagan said, rising enough to step forward slowly. “There’s the power. Now, use me. Connect with me the way you did with those witches. And for the love of God, turn around so you can watch our six.”

  Of course she hadn’t shoved me behind her so she could protect me. She was looking at me as an equal, not a damsel in distress.

  I felt a little sheepish, and a lot empowered, as I about-faced.

  I felt Reagan’s magic pulsing near me, a riptide of power, ready to suck me in and overcome me. The woman was packing large, and it still impressed and disconcerted me. I pulled it into the bubble I’d formed from my magic and Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky’s, letting her intense, spicy magic bolster ours.

  “Did you do it?” she asked, taking another step forward.

  “Yes. Can’t you feel it?”

  “No. I don’t have that kind of magic. Okay, here’s the situation. She’s good at hide-and-seek, and we can’t just go crashing into her or she wins. Quite tricky, this one. A worthy adversary.” Reagan looked behind. “The ol’ broad is hiding from me, but she went after you. She clearly senses that vulnerable thing you do and wants easy prey. So we’re going to dangle the bait.”

  My stomach twisted. “I’m the bait, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.” Reagan took another step forward. “So. Off you go. And hurry. Those clowns are headed our way, trying to help trap her. They honestly have no clue. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Aren’t you using me to trap her?”

  “No. I’m using you to entice her out of her hiding place. It’s a game of cat-cat-mouse.”

  “There are too many cats in that game.”

  “Probably. Off you go. Oh yes, that hunching thing—do more of that.”

  The hunching was a natural reaction to the fear and stress of the situation, and I didn’t need to be told to do more of it. That was a given.

  My bubble wobbled, but my power stone got twice as excited, so I fo
cused on that. Overtaking Reagan, I walked toward where the path dumped into the clearing, hoping I could reach that before the creature came after me. A quick glance behind showed Reagan drifting into the bushes, hiding from sight.

  I wasn’t on my own, though. She was on scene. She’d be watching.

  Steeling my courage, holding the power stone in a white-knuckled grip, I inched my way up the path and dunked back into the liquid, unnatural silence that had preceded the creature’s wails. Dark gaps laughed at me as I passed, possibly hiding evil within their depths. A cloud wafted across the moon overhead, seeping what little color there was from the world around me.

  At the end of the path, nothing had happened. No sound had reached my ear. If she was waiting for me to be alone, she clearly wasn’t satisfied yet. She had to know Reagan waited just out of sight.

  Fine. You want me by myself, let’s do this.

  I started up a jog, past the bushes and out to the grass beyond, blessed space opening up around me. One of the massive trees stood sentry a hundred feet out, and I headed for that, stopping near its huge trunk. Branches bowed around me, some swooping low enough to kiss the grass.

  Shouts and calls sounded in the distance, and I figured that was probably the other team getting into a position.

  With a freaking plan.

  After scanning the bushes back the way I’d come, I shifted my gaze all the way around me, stopping at the edge of the house. Nothing moved or even shook. All was quiet. Waiting.

  Knowing that whatever vulnerability I exuded, magically or otherwise, was tied to my fear, I let the tremors come. The uncertainty. I was out here, on my own, without a magic sword, any experience, or the slightest clue of how to kill a banshee.

  My bubble wavered and the buzz of terror crept back into my brain.

  Before I could try and call back the bubble, I heard it. The soft song on the breeze. The longing for a comforting embrace.

  The banshee was taking the bait, but I was no longer ready for it.

  27

  Reagan had said that if the banshee was in the world of the living, it would be in a solid form. But as the song grew louder, the pull of it tugging at my middle, I knew she’d been mistaken.

  Magical wisps curled into the air in the center of the grass, nothing rooting them to the ground. A moment later, they were gone, disappearing into the night.

  I blinked a few times, then opened my eyes wider, making sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks.

  The song turned into a moan, winding toward me on a sweet-smelling gust of wind. Near my face, streams of magic twirled into the air, bright colored with busy patterns.

  Comfort. Distract.

  “Why is that?” I asked softly, stepping away from the tree and turning in a circle. “Why are you trying to distract me? To sneak up on me?”

  A new thought struck me. Maybe it could cast its magic, like I did spells. It could be throwing distraction spells to keep me looking in another direction while it snuck up on me. And here I was, falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

  “No, thank you, scary lady.” I wandered out a little farther, trying to look all around me at once. It essentially meant I turned in constant circles and my head swiveled in all directions.

  But it wasn’t working. I wasn’t focusing long enough on any one thing to pick the banshee out of the darkness. If she wore a dark dress, robe, or bunch of sheets, she’d be all but invisible. And that was assuming she wasn’t invisible already!

  I hefted my power stone and closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the push of nature. The throb of life. Lo and behold, there—woven into the song of life was one of death, weaving in and around in perfect harmony. Balance.

  A new intent smacked into me. The feeling of forever. Of being sucked into the void and then carried forth to eternity. Death.

  Coming for me.

  Right now!

  “Wally Wanker’s twinkle toes!” I snapped my eyes open and spun around, bringing up my claws for a bit of scare. A shape came at me in the night. Flowing and graceful, with a robe fluttering out behind it like a great silk cape, it didn’t sprint so much as glide very quickly. Very, very quickly.

  I should’ve run at it, throwing my magic.

  I should’ve stood my ground, throwing my magic.

  I about-faced and sprinted, not at all graceful, but at least not standing still.

  The banshee’s wail tore across the grass, ear-splitting and bone-chilling. It spoke of death, decay, and ever-lasting rest. She was forewarning a death, one that she planned to create herself.

  “No you won’t, she-bitch.” Tall words for someone running away like a coward.

  I ran past a tree, thought better of running in a straight line, given that I wasn’t the fastest person in the race, and turned quickly. I looped around the tree and caught sight of the old crone moving so fast that it was a wonder both hips didn’t give out and go skittering to the side.

  Reagan’s magic had pulled away from my bubble when I’d left her, but that didn’t matter, because I could feel the pulsing power of the banshee. Dull and peaceful but throbbing, it didn’t at all speak of a villainous woman trying to steal someone’s life. It was calm and comforting and—

  “Oh no you don’t! I’m onto you!” I took off running again—no idea why, just knowing it was too fast for me to stand still. Also, while my magic was urgently waiting for me to sculpt it, my brain buzzed with that freaking old woman tearing through the grass toward me, her face a mask of horror and her claw-like hands braced in the air.

  “I knew clawed hands were scary,” I said as I pumped my arms as fast as I could, running toward a line of trees. “Very scary.”

  Wait, why I was going away from Reagan? Salvation was toward her.

  I cut right, throwing off the banshee, thankfully. She was a fast glider, but a slow turner. I’d wait a moment and cut right again, heading back toward Reagan’s last hiding place.

  The banshee’s wailing dug into my core and gnawed on my bones. Its magic blanketed out from it, soft and pleasant and deadly. It would be a lovely song to hear on one’s deathbed, and that was what scared me most—part of me wanted to let her carry me out of my body and this world.

  I was in serious danger.

  Defend yourself, you flugging moron!

  I stopped randomly, no longer totally in control, and turned. The thing was forty feet from me and closing the distance between us fast. I wouldn’t have made it to Reagan, if she was even in the same area. I dropped the stone, and the weave flowered in my fingers before I even properly willed it, springing to life and spiraling out. A wall to stop the thing. A cage to contain it. A lullaby to still it and, above all, forgiveness.

  I didn’t know why that last bit was so crucial, but I felt it. I knew it. It would root both the spell and the beast.

  After that, I’d wait for someone to do whatever they would with it. I didn’t want to be responsible for its demise. That felt wrong, to me. Unnatural.

  The irony didn’t fail to register, but the notion was too firm to shake.

  Twenty feet and bearing down. Fifteen.

  I unleashed my spell, pushing my hands forward to help throw it. Tighter than any weave I’d yet done, and sparkling like a disco ball, it smacked into the creature. Tight, sparkling bands wrapped around it, stopping its progress. Caging it.

  Look at me with the bedazzled spells.

  The creature howled and dodged right, but my magic was there, barring the way. Another wall went up, then another. The cage shrank, smaller and smaller until the creature was shaking, fighting my magic.

  Pounding feet came up behind me. “Hurry,” Reagan said, but her words were drowned out as jets of magic fired from my left and right. Weak spells, poorly constructed, they had a weird, stale quality that made me wrinkle my nose.

  A moment later, I saw why. The small group we’d left behind had darted in, cracking casings as they approached. These were bought spells, used on the fly.

  “They need a b
etter distributor,” I murmured, catching a few of the intents but not all, as the magic covered the banshee. It wasn’t good news for the creature.

  She shrieked and wailed, held in place and now writhing. Death’s chariot would be awaiting her on the other side, and I knew she wouldn’t come back. That was the price a magical person paid for breaking the rules.

  “Got her!” Garret ran in, cracking one more spell to seal the deal.

  The creature shrieked one last time before sizzling out before our eyes. A dark fuzz accompanied my dissipating spell.

  “We did it.” Garret smiled from ear to ear, his walk becoming a strut. “I knew we could do it. Mine was the killing spell. That goes in the books.”

  “You didn’t do squat, you weasel,” Reagan yelled, stalking forward. Her cool from dealing with the banshee was completely gone. “That was all Penny. She lured that thing, trapped it, and was just about to disband it when you morons tramped through. She didn’t need you.”

  “It was chasing her all over the grass!” Garret said as the captain stalked into the area. “We saw it.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill it,” I said, fatigue washing over me. I’d poured too much power into the spell. Then again, maybe it had been needed. “It felt wrong.”

  “See?” Garret pointed at me.

  “That didn’t mean she needed you, moron,” Reagan said. “She could’ve kept it there all night.”

  “It was chasing her!” Garret jabbed a finger at me again in renewed intensity.

  “Until she trapped it. I know you’re dumb, Garret, but at least try to communicate with smarter beings.”

  “I didn’t see any spell.” Garret crossed his arms over his chest. The other peacekeepers, as Reagan had called them, gathered around to watch the spectacle, most of them out of breath from running in. Even the captain stood by placidly, watching. I got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the first showdown between Garret and Reagan.

  “She’s a natural. You can’t see what she does. But did you see that thing stop in midair, didn’t you?”

  All the peacekeepers looked around at each other. The captain said, “We were running in, readying our spells. Last I saw, it was chasing her. Then my people showed up with their spells.”