Magical Midlife Alliance (Leveling Up Book 7), page 29
She took a breath, and the silence felt weird after her bombardment of words. I realized she was waiting for me to answer a question, then had to think back to remember what that question had been.
“I am going to fight him, yes,” I finally said.
“Right. Well.” She squeezed my hand. “When you fight him, can you try to do it over the woods a little? Not too far. Just beyond Edgar’s flower line. That’ll give us the best shot. I’ll just hide up here on the roof, out of the way, to get it on camera.”
“No, you can’t—”
“Don’t you worry at all,” she said forcefully. “I have been through a great many raids. I know how to stay out of the way. And there are no garhettes besides me, so they won’t try to take anyone.”
“Wait, what?” I said.
She squeezed my hand again. “It’s a raid tradition. If an attacking guardian sees a garhette that strikes his fancy, he whisks her back to their camp for the night. She tries to fight him off, of course. What would be the fun in going quietly? Mind you, once she’s at the camp, she can choose to walk away, or go back to his cairn with him to see about a life together. It’s very romantic. Unless you’re one of the prettier garhettes, then I hear it just gets tedious and you have to hide to avoid it. Why, I once knew a girl who’d traveled to five different cairns via raids until she finally found a guardian she wanted to settle down with. It really worked out in her best interest—”
“Mom,” Ulric said, “maybe get to the point?”
Niamh started to laugh. “That would’ve been a riot in my youth.”
“If anyone were dumb enough to grab you,” Mr. Tom told her as he finally walked onto the roof, coming to stand by me, “they quickly would’ve wished they hadn’t.”
“Well, anyway,” Patty said, “that won’t be a problem here. This isn’t a normal raid.” She squeezed my hand again. “They are getting a bit closer now. Possibly now would be a good time to—”
“Yes, yes, fine.” I sent another peal of magic.
Like before, it blasted out to the town and beyond, but this time it also targeted the enemy. Hurry up and meet your fate.
Then I focused on Tristan, the largest shape I’d seen, putting all my power behind it, pounding him with a challenge. Come and get me. I’m waiting.
His burst of speed was apparent. Message received.
The rest sped up as well. My crew discarded their clothes if they were wearing them. Even Cyra calmed down, starting to focus.
We as fliers were grossly outnumbered. Hilariously so.
Par for the course.
“Here we go,” I said, seeing his shape clearly now, knowing his focus wasn’t on this house. It wasn’t on this raid.
It was on me.
He wanted payback.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Jessie
I shifted in a hurry. I could direct my people through magic and our links. I could direct them from the air, even in the middle of fighting. I’d done it before.
I had to find the darkness first. I had to completely surrender to my gargoyle.
This time there was no hesitation.
I pushed off the roof. A pump of magic told the others not to follow. Not yet. Let the crowds see me meet that monster. Let them see the tiny pink and purple speck fly out to meet that metallic blue and teal beast.
The air felt good around me. I flapped my wings and rose higher, accentuating my gargoyle’s shortcomings in flight. In contrast, one pump of Tristan’s wings drove him forward at an incredible speed, cutting the distance between us in half as he zoomed right for me.
My stomach wiggled, but only for a moment. Fire raged in its wake, and then I jutted forward to meet him, feeling paltry at best until I let loose a surge of magic that trumpeted my challenge.
His answering roar was mighty, wriggling through my blood and slicing into my bones. Instead of causing fear, though, it invigorated me.
He straightened, and his claws came forward to ram and rip at me. I threw up a shield and jetted sideways. He slammed into the magic full force, which knocked his head and flattened his body. The spell weakened a little—his natural defenses coming to his aid—but not enough. He began to fall.
The others zoomed behind him, and I sent out another peal for my crew. As one they roared or neighed, issuing their challenges, and the fliers rose into the air. Thunder rolled across the sky, followed by streaks of lightning from Hollace. Fire curled away from Cyra. The gargoyles took off in all directions, needing to cover various angles, and Niamh wasted no time in shooting directly for the first gargoyle she saw who needed a hole in his side.
That was when Ivy House shuddered into action, feeling her time for glory. The door to the doll room opened, and they spread out, finding their placement within the house for the poor sods who would make it that far. Darkness filtered into the blue sky, and shadows reached across the grounds and into the wood. Fog drifted through the trees and upward, making a murky soup.
A spear rose through it and out of the trees, striking a gargoyle. Startled, he flapped wildly, but the weapon had punctured a wing. He was lowered, fighting it, until he disappeared into the trees. I knew he wouldn’t come back out until this was all over.
Another spear sailed up, and then another.
Apparently the basajaunak had talents no one had told me about. That was handy and terrifying at the same time.
“You’ve been very naughty, little gargoyles,” Ivy House said in a strange sort of whisper. “Mommy gargoyle is not impressed.”
I shivered, both because that was off-putting and because I was suddenly nervous for our adversaries.
Tristan caught himself from the fall and backed off the magic, so incredibly agile despite his size. He rose slowly—for him—his gaze on me. He circled away from Ivy House as a blast of darts filled the air around us. They wouldn’t hit my people, and I threw up a shield so they wouldn’t hit Tristan either. I didn’t want Ivy House’s help. I wanted this battle to stay between just him and me.
He saw what I was doing, watched the darts fall to the ground, then circled me a little longer, sussing me out. Maybe calculating his next move.
I waited. There’d be no point in my attempting to be the aggressor in the air. We both knew it.
He shot forward so fast that I couldn’t help but flap wildly and skitter backward. He caught me quickly, scratching down my stomach and across my shoulder to the top of my left wing. Hot agony raced through me, but he hadn’t decommissioned that wing. Tried but failed.
Healing myself already, I answered by ripping my claws into him, still in his hold, and shooting spells directly against his skin. Burned flesh perfumed the air. A series of grunts worked up through his throat. A small keening sounded before he tossed me away, unable to take that much pain.
I was after him then, missing Nathanial at my back, struggling to catch him but throwing a slab of magic on his other side to stop his backward progress. I ripped into him, shot him with magic, raked my claws against him. His hide was tougher than other gargoyles’, though, and I didn’t make much of an impact.
His big arm came around, smacking me. I flew ass-over-tea-kettle, not sure when to open my wings lest I get it wrong and tweak one. In the end, I just threw up a wall to slam against, stopping my fall so I could get my bearings. He was after me in a moment, nearly there—the kill shot.
Fear doused me. I reacted hard, maybe too hard. The burst of magic was so intense, it made my eyes water.
His roar turned into a howl as my spell ripped into his middle. A huge, horrible gash opened up in his stomach, and blood poured out, not all of it red.
His wings fluttered and he hunched over, clutching at himself. He dropped in altitude, hugging the wound. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the pain, because of that strange orange blood, or a combination of both.
I could end this right here. I could drop him to the ground and claim victory. But he was losing so much blood. What if he didn’t heal in time and bled out? Or what if he continued to bleed that strange blood and someone identified his otherness? I’d just spent all morning deciding I wouldn’t reveal him, and here I might’ve done it accidentally!
Making a quick decision, I crashed into him, smushing my front against his and wrapping my wings around him. Immediately my healing magic got to work; it was quicker with contact.
“Wh-yy?” he asked, and I wasn’t sure what he meant. Why heal him? Why help him? Did he think I lacked any sort of morals?
More darts flew as we sank in the air. He scratched at me, but the scrapes were superficial, as his claws barely pierced my flesh. I felt confusion and concern through the bond from Austin. I sent back assurance and confidence, scratching Tristan with my feet to pretend we were wrestling.
He ripped me to the side, his wings snapping. He didn’t break my hold, though. He knew I was healing him.
Shifters paced below, wanting to be part of the fight, seeing their opportunity as Tristan and I continued to sink through the air. Hot blood still seeped against me, and I knew he would’ve bled out. I’d slashed him way too deep.
“Fl-iie,” I said. I wasn’t nearly as good at talking in this form. “Uup. Hoor-ee.”
His wings worked, and we shot up quickly. I could feel his wince as he did so.
“Wh-yy?” he asked again, apparently assuming I had any kind of mastery with my mouth.
Fatigue started to pull at me with too much of my energy going into him. It only needed to go a bit longer, though. Just a little bit longer, and he’d be out of danger.
I pulled my wings away and flapped them wildly, continuing to scratch at him. He grabbed hold of me, squeezing me close, and then tumbled us through the air. Spit flew out of the side of my mouth from the velocity at which we were suddenly moving. I was pretty sure I was the one screaming, now clutching him for dear life. The ground jiggled in my vision, really far away. Then he dove, and I was definitely the one screaming.
His chuckle was dark and wicked as he spun us. My stomach shoved into my back and then out through my mouth as we spiraled toward the ground.
“Am I go-od?” he asked as I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I’d never flown this fast and recklessly in all my life.
I unclenched my jaw with effort. “Goo-ud.” Close enough.
Nearer the ground now, he shoved me away from him, scratching long gashes across my arms as he did so.
So he thought we’d battle for a bit longer, did he?
This time I would control myself more and end this once and for all (without killing him).
My roar of challenge was dwarfed by his, but it was no less effective.
And then we were at it again—Tristan charging through the air at a speed that was still too fast despite his injury, and me back-pedaling because it was incredibly jarring. I hit him with magic, blunt spells stuffed with a crapload of power. They were much too simplistic to ever use on mages, but even with his natural protection, they rocked his world. He was knocked sideways, then back. His grunts came faster, louder. He visibly flagged, not able to get to me, not able to keep up. I kept shooting them off. More and more, harder and harder, starting to flag now but not easing up. My practice had all led up to this.
With one last effort, which he clearly poured everything into, he darted forward to grab me. His claws sliced down my side. Blood immediately welled up and then started flowing down.
I shoved him back with magic…and then waved goodbye.
The spell I used to snap his wings to his sides shocked the hell out of him. His eyes widened, showing the whites all around. Then he dropped like a stone.
He turned and twisted in the air as he fell, roaring in defiance. When he was ten feet off the ground, I slipped a net spell under him, one that Sebastian had perfected, catching him at a dead stop, then released him to the waiting shifters below.
My roar of victory was all for show. My appeal to Nathanial was urgent. Tristan got to take a break. I had to protect the rest of the house. No way would I be doing it with solely my wings.
He was with me in a moment, lifting me up and away.
Gargoyles swarmed the house, far more fliers than we had at our disposal. Sebastian flung spells like a madman, hitting them hard and turning them back. He could only maim, though, not kill. Without anyone to take them to the ground, they flapped around for a while until they were good enough to return to battle. I’d say this for gargoyles—their stubbornness was a definite advantage in battle.
Hollace swooped down with lightning shooting from him. It caught multiple gargoyles at a time, stopping them and making them shake in the air. It didn’t last long enough for them to fall, though. They shook it off much faster than a mage would, than a shifter, even, as their tough hides provided them with some defense.
Cyra darted and dodged all around, fast and agile. She threw nonlethal fire, blasting everyone she came across. Our gargoyles darted in after her, ripping into the stationary gargoyles and throwing them to the shifters waiting on the ground. Spears cut through the air, and one gargoyle flew as fast as he could from a whinnying Niamh. He wouldn’t win that fight.
Still they crowded closer, with Hollace and Cyra not wanting to use their magic over the house. Our gargoyles showed prowess, but they weren’t plentiful enough to do any real damage.
“We could use some wind elemental magic to shove them away,” Sebastian yelled as Nathanial flew me closer.
I leaned forward so Nathanial would release me, and then sent out a pulse of power. Gargoyles flapped, not liking the tingle that spell sent through their wings. With them stalling, I did as Sebastian had suggested and summoned my power for an intense blast.
A great plume of fire rolled away from me in all directions, hotter and denser than the blasts Cyra had been using and much too vicious for a friendly battle with a nonthreatening cairn.
Oops.
Gargoyles howled. Those trying to catch their breath from Hollace or Cyra dropped from the sky, balls of flame headed for the grass below. Those who’d avoided my blast pushed back quickly, trying to get away in case I did it again.
“That’ll work, too,” Sebastian said.
Trying again, because I might as well practice, I pulled more energy. My breath became heavy with the effort. Closing my eyes, I thought hard about the spell. I envisioned it in my mind and took care to notice every little detail. Only when I’d done that did I make another attempt.
Snapping my eyes open, I saw a gargoyle dive down for me. Nathanial darted in front, catching the gargoyle and wrestling him out of the way. They spiraled through the air, ripping and tearing at each other, until they hit the roof and bounced off.
Figuring he could handle it, knowing they wouldn’t actually kill each other, I let loose the spell.
Instead of fire this time, a great gust of wind blew, out and down. It was plenty strong to take anyone who was less than one hundred percent down to the basajaunak and shifters below.
Unfortunately, it was also strong enough to whisk Sebastian away and throw him off the roof.
My swear came out garbled. I launched from the roof after him, throwing hard spells at anyone who would take my plight as an opening for them to get to the house. Sebastian sailed then started to fall as gravity did its job. A magical net caught him, keeping him stationary in the sky. He looked back my way, his face utterly composed.
When on the job, the guy had courage of iron.
Mr. Tom battled my wind and swooped through the sky to grab him. I put up a magical shield for him, blocking the effects of the elemental spell. Then I did the same for the others, giving them free rein to grab the struggling gargoyles and throw them downward.
That was when I saw him—an older gargoyle, a little stringy and with gray hair, struggled behind two guardians toward the house. They flew low, probably level with the second story, looking like they were trying to sneak in.
Nelson.
My team saw him about when I did, and all of them looked to me for direction. I pointed at the guardians trying to block the wind from him so that he could make his way. Cyra and Ulric dipped through the sky immediately, attacking his helpers. I put a protective spell over Nelson, but if he knew it, he gave no sign. He just kept striving for the house, clearly wanting to be the one to get the bracelet and take the glory.
You should’ve stuck to bird watching, I thought.
I opened all the windows in front of him and popped out the screens. The dolls waited within the hidden passageways, spread out all over, intending to mess with the minds of whoever came through.
Nelson didn’t take the bait, though. He had a particular destination in mind.
He angled up to the third floor, to the little landing that Nessa had pitched off the night of the dinner.
Somehow, he didn’t notice me flying just a bit behind him and to the side, watching him labor to that little landing and perch on the edge. Another of his gargoyles managed to evade Niamh for long enough to attempt to join his leader and get into the house.
I waved my hand. A blistering spell knocked him easily away, tossing him end over end through the sky and down. A basandere leapt up with surprising grace and snatched him out of the air. He wouldn’t be returning to the battle.
Nelson shifted to his human form and hurried down the couple of steps to the door that was standing wide open. He didn’t stop to wonder whether this was a trap. Apparently he thought we’d just welcome him in without even closing the entrances to the house.
I slammed the door behind him, locking him in.
He should’ve gone in through the windows. At least then he would’ve had a chance to avoid the hidden passageways.
