Page 105 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

“Want to start?” I asked the hunk-on-legs beside me.

Wild sank into a crouch. “Sure thing, gorgeous.”

I had a moment to regret that I wasn’t in Spyne’s spot watching this fight unravel. Wild was glorious to behold in battle—he preferred a flowing type of defense and attack that used his opponent’s strength and power against them. He made fighting seem effortless, and that daunted those who faced him, and also frustrated them into making costly mistakes as the fight continued.

Sven lunged at Wild, who immediately tapped into his battle magic to inject speed into a dodge.

My magic was always open to Wild now, and as I spun out of Corey’s reach, I marveled at how little magic he’d used for the evasive maneuver—just a speck. Barely noticeable.

I danced back from Corey’s swing and saw that Wild was circling away from me too. I’d expected us to remain together, but we were naturally placing our opponents between us.

Wild rippled the ground with his battle magic to throw Huxley high and then blew a stream of ice toward Sven.

Usually a battle magus with high proven ability—like Wild—would have around seven to ten such attacks available before their magic stores were on the empty side. That was in addition to increasing their speed and strength during a fight too. Yet Wild could have continued this level of attack for hours. Maybe he’d have a better idea of the exact amount, but I was guessing in the high one hundred range, maybe even in the two hundred vicinity.

He moved onto his grimoire affinity, and I earned a ringing blow to the jaw from Huxley as Wild sent a flow of magic to Corey, who froze.

Wild tightened his hands to fists.

Everyone paused for a moment as Corey shouted in pain. Words began to appear on his skin. Wounds. Uncertain past. Hope. Regret. Pain.

“He’s drawing words from Corey’s mind,” Huxley said in awe. He sounded equal parts horrified and excited.

That was kind of horrific to watch. Nicely done. The attack had also drained the largest chunk of magic from us so far.

Wild dropped the magic squeezing Corey’s mind and portaled across the mats, reciting quickly, “And so it was that the Mother birthed her first children, the original magus, to care for the Earth and teach its ways.”

The sentence strung into an oily, black rope that whipped toward Sven and wrapped tight around his body.

“Whoa,” Huxley said.

He wasn’t paying attention to the fight at all.

I punched him in the face.

The grimoire snarled and threw his broken glasses away. “That was fucking low.”

“I’m helping you to be a survivor.” I raised my fists.

Wild had moved to his apothecary affinity, of which he possessed novice levels. He blew a concoction of mine at Huxley as the magus made to charge me.

Huxley sent a gust of magic out, which only managed to blast the liquid nightmare into Corey’s face. He started screaming again. The guy wasn’t faring too well in this fight.

“You’ve been in my kits,” I called to Wild.

“Perhaps.” He tossed out a series of vines to act as a wall between us and the guys. “Are you feeling what I am?”

“Lust?”

He snorted. “Always, my queen. I meant with our magic.”

I listened to Corey’s groans on the other side of the vines. “The volume on our megaphone turns down as we draw from our pool of power?” As magic was used, our amplifying abilities grew less. Instead of having the ability to dial up to ten, we were only able to reach nine, then eight, and so on.

Wild arched a brow. “The walls grow closer.”

I liked my megaphone analogy better. “My turn?”

Portaling behind the guys, who were now on their feet, I was struck again by the fact that Wild and I were naturally opting to divide and conquer. Against the demons, we’d held hands, and I’d expected that to be how our magic wanted us to stand in battle.

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