Page 99 of Real Fake Hauntings

A hint of a smirk curved his lips. “Mage, not witch.”

“Wow. I have no words.”

He winked. “No words needed, sugarplum.”

Higher road, I reminded myself. “Can I go inside for a moment and check him out?”

Mark eyed my witch hat dubiously. “I don’t know. I might get fired if I let you in.”

“Oh, c’mon. The policy can’t be that strict?”

“Them’s the rules, ma’am,” he drawled, full of glee. He gave me another look over. “Bet Cavalier is on the way. He can deal with it.”

The audacity of this man. “I can deal with it if you let me in.”

At that moment the door opened, and a thin man walked out, stopping abruptly as he saw me and Mark.

Mark blinked at his appearance, which was such an un-Mark reaction that I took it as genuine surprise. And why would Mark be taken aback?

Because this must be the earth mage.

Perhaps he read something in our expressions, because the man took a second look at me, whirled around, and made a run for it.

“Stop!” I exclaimed, setting Fluffy on the ground and starting after him but having to contend with the crowd.

Mark zoomed past me, pushing into whoever stood in his way. I’d lost track of the mage in the crowd, but Mark had no such problem. Fluffy and I followed the path he was creating through the sea of people into Guiles and Romary, then a side street, then around a corner, then into an empty alleyway where Mark gave up all pretense and, with a sudden burst of speed, caught up to the mage and pushed him down.

I stopped, panting, and patted my skirts for my freezing potion.

The mage rolled onto his feet and dug into his coat’s pocket. In the next moment, he had thrown a handful of dirt toward Mark’s face. Earth mage, all right.

Mark didn’t seem to care. He grew taller, his clothes suddenly too small and bulging, his neck cording with muscle, and his eyes red under a nearby street lamp. He had gone into full berserker mode.

Berserkers gained a burst of inhuman strength, agility, and speed for a brief amount of time. In this mode, they could outrun and outfight any other paranormal kind, including demons or shifters, but only for a short time.

The handful of soil flew toward Mark’s face. He ignored it, closing his eyes and keeping his mouth firmly shut as he rammed the mage into the wall. The soil fell to the asphalt as the mage hit the bricks of the building hard. Mark raised a hand, ready to knock the man out, but the clumps of soil suddenly lifted, pressing against Mark’s wrist and changing his trajectory—barely.

“Don’t knock him out,” I warned, leaning onto my tiptoes to watch the fight. “We need to ask questions.”

“Get off me!” the mage exclaimed, pushing at Mark ineffectively.

Mark grunted, slapped the dirt away as it made another weak attempt to attack his face, and twisted the mage around, slamming him against the bricks of the building and keeping his arm firmly against his back. The mage whimpered in pain, and the soil fell to the ground again.

It was a disappointing show of power. Key had kept a demon glued to the ground with about the same amount of soil.

This couldn’t be our guy.

Fluffy yipped and tugged at her leash, eager to explore the interesting tidbits of dirt scattered around the ground, and possibly some of the suspect puddles of liquid.

It hadn’t rained in a couple of days.

“Witch,” Mark said, an edge of dark eagerness in his voice. Bet he didn’t get to run down people often. “Ask your questions.” His eyes were still red, but his bulk had diminished back into his normal self.

I walked closer, keeping a tight leash on Fluffy. “What other earth mage is in town?”

“I don’t know.” The man tried to struggle out of Mark’s hold, then winced.

“I’m sure you do. Or would you rather I call in the bounty hunters?”

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