WEIRD SCIENCE
Attention drawn by the light, Sorcha moved toward Simpson. The compact hit the ground where Sorcha had been a millisecond ago and shattered open, the spell spilling impotently across the ground, a haze of golden light. Sorcha was already five feet away, heading toward Simpson’s position.
“Simpson!” Mallory called out. “Move!”
Too stubborn to obey, Simpson threw another volley. Sorcha batted it away like an irritating insect, and then sent a fireball toward Simpson. Mallory tossed hers at the same time, but finishing the compact had taken a toll on her magic, and it fell short.
Simpson might have had some magical skills, but she wasn’t quick on her feet. Instead of dodging, she turned around as if to run away. The fireball caught her square in the back, sending her flying into the snow. She hit with a sickening sizzle, and didn’t move.
“She killed her,” Mallory said. “Killed her.”
And when she did, the sorcerers’ concealment magic faltered, making visible the now-triangle-shaped wire of blue magic that vibrated above them. It looked like liquid neon and scattered blue light around them. Now they were all visible to us . . . and to Sorcha.
We’re going to need Plan B, I told Ethan, stepping beside Mallory so we stood in a line together against Sorcha. But her eyes, and her rage, were focused at the moment on the trio of sorcerers who raised the wire into the air, began moving it toward the hill. I guessed it was supposed to be a lasso, a very literal way of roping Sorcha into police custody.
Mallory’s compact seemed much simpler and more elegant by comparison.
“Do they think she’s going to stand still for that?” I asked.
“They thought it would be invisible,” Mallory said. “But yeah, it’s too cumbersome. Which I could have told them, if they’d shared any of it with me.” She gathered up another round, tossed it into the air. Short again.
And she wasn’t the only one. Blue shots began to pierce the air from the other side of the lagoon. Catcher, I thought with relief.
Sparks flew over the lagoon as the sorcerers battled, magic spilling into the air each time the shots collided, so the sky over the entire island began to glow from the haze of it.
Sorcha was focused on the sorcerers, and she kept moving forward through waist-high snow on the other side of the hill, into the valley where the lagoon reflected back magic. She was moving closer to the lasso the sorcerers still managed to hold aloft, but they were having trouble keeping it stable. It jolted and jerked between them, more live wire than lasso.
Sorcha aimed a fireball at Baumgartner, who fended it off with a shot of his own. But he lost hold of the lasso, which sizzled and disappeared into the air.
“The containment field is down,” Mallory called into the comm.
The immediate threat minimized, Sorcha turned back to us, began tramping up the hill. I pushed Mallory, obviously exhausted, behind me and bared my sword—and my teeth—at Sorcha.
“I’ll throw down my sword if you throw down your magic,” I said. “And we’ll have a good old-fashioned free-for-all.”
“You couldn’t just give me what I wanted,” she said, gaze narrowed at us, her hair spread and lifted in the air as she rallied for one more volley.
My skin still firing with nerves, I took a step toward her. Anything to keep her gaze off Mallory. “I’m not in the habit of handing my city over to self-centered sorceresses.”
“I will show you self-centered,” she said, and flicked a hand in the air.
Such a fickle gesture to have so much power in it. Energy burst through the air. I shielded Mallory from it, took the blast full-on. I hit the ground on my knees, limbs shaking with the new round of shocking pain.
Light bulleted past me, a shot of blue fire that sliced across her arm, propelled by Mallory. Sorcha slapped a hand over the wound, screamed out with pain that seemed to shake the earth. Thunder cracked like a gunshot as lightning split the sky in the same sickly green shade.
“I am owed!” she screamed into the sky. And when she looked down at us again, her lips were moving in some silent chant. She pulled a fat bundle of what looked like sage from her pocket, touched a fingertip to the end, and it began to smoke. She drew it through the air in front her, lips still moving, and that same greasy magic gathering around us.
“Magic incoming!” I said into the comm over the static, my voice hoarse with pain, and hoped someone could hear me. “Prepare yourself.” For the magic and the monster it might create, I thought.
Mallory screamed and crumpled to the ground, clamping her hands over her ears. And the air around her began to glow, to buzz with magic. It looked like steam was rising from her body. But it was magic—magic that Sorcha was pulling out of her with the power of her filthy song.
“Mallory!” I said, and put my arms around her, shielding her body with mine, and covered her hands with mine in case it helped block the sound.