Page 30 of Junk Magic

Retreat, I decided, but did not start edging toward my ride.

The Weres seemed to have overlooked it for the moment, and I needed that to continue. Otherwise, they’d destroy my bike and leave me stranded. And at that point, it really would be game over.

I sent up a distress spell, burning bright against the pale blue haze of the sky, just in case there was anybody within range, and then prepared a distraction. I needed the Weres off me and looking elsewhere long enough to make a break for it. Then we’d see who was faster: Harley Davidson’s finest or a panicked Were pack.

But I had to get there first.

I’d loaded up the jacket before I left, but I’d have to drop shields to use much of it. So, a spell it was, then. And if you want to get someone’s attention, threaten their livelihood.

Or, you know, outright destroy it.

A second later, the first tent went up in a fireball big enough to have taken out the house. But I couldn’t see inside the house; there could be children in there. The tent, on the other hand, was empty except for a lot of very suspicious looking plants.

Which were now going up in flames.

Even better, the wind had picked up, blowing sparks onto the other tents and causing half of the Weres to suddenly veer off. They changed back into now-naked humans, mostly men but a few women as well, and started scrambling, trying to get hoses attached and water flowing. But half wasn’t enough. I sent another fireball to engulf the truck, which must have had a nearly full tank, because it went up with a satisfying whoosh.

And then my phone rang.

I put it on speaker, hoping for back up, and instead got Caleb in the dairy aisle.

“I am not buying a dozen kinds of milk!” his harassed voice informed me—or informed someone.

“Caleb?”

“Almond, coconut, low-fat, one-percent, two-percent—”

“Caleb!”

“—whole, organic, lactose-free—”

Several more Weres had broken away to go for the truck, giving me the best odds that I was likely to get. I started edging toward the bike, blowing things up in the opposite direction in the process, trying to keep everyone’s attention focused elsewhere. Another tent went up, along with a windmill, the burning arms of which sent spirals of black smoke flooding into the air.

And, finally, I spotted what looked like salvation: a big, freestanding gas or possibly propane tank.

“—it just goes on and on. Who the hell needs this many kinds of—”

The tank got the biggest fireball I had magic left for, and—oh, yeah. That worked, I thought, as a mushroom cloud of flame went skyward. The Weres stopped beating on me long enough to stare, and I dropped my shields, shoved one out of the way with a magical assist, and ran.

They were right behind me, but no shields meant no restrictions. That meant snare charms grabbing onto necks and dragging them off course; it meant bear traps—or in this case, wolf traps—latching onto paws and biting down, crushing bones and then slamming into the ground, refusing to budge; it meant potion bombs and lasso spells and levitating guns blasting full out, because I wasn’t playing, either. It meant demonstrating that the odds weren’t as uneven as you might think, as an unleashed war mage was a platoon, all on her own.

I heard howls and human screams, curses and yells for help. I felt the sun beating down on me, the blast of heat from the fires rolling over me, the hot breath of an apex predator on my neck. I sent a spell behind me, heard a yelp and a thud, but didn’t turn around to see what had happened.

“Lia? Lia, what the hell?” Caleb was yelling, but I barely heard him. Because my I was almost there, my bike was just ahead, I could practically feel the chrome under my hands—

Then something leapt for me, from impossibly far away, slamming my body down to the ground and my head onto a rock.

And then there was only blackness.

* * *

The jangly sounds of Vegas at night rolled over me, along with smears of neon decorated with strangely distorted faces. People were everywhere, but looking as if they were reflections in a fun house mirror. They crowded in from all sides, getting close—too close. And then they were suddenly distant, what had to be a block away or more.

It left me rearing back when they lunged at me, and stumbling drunkenly in shock when they suddenly disappeared. I found a wall, a crumbly bit of brick, and held on, because the street was doing it now, too. One moment it fell out from under me, leaving me plunging down a deep, dark hole; the next it was so close that it felt like my knees should be up around my ears.

Up-down, up-down, to the point that I could barely stand, and it didn’t help when some of the fun house people gathered around me in a semi-circle. The gyrations made it appear as if they had ridiculously elongated necks, like human giraffes, which was weird enough. But it also allowed them to poke their strange, distorted faces into mine.

Even worse, which of them had the giraffe necks changed from moment to moment. Leaving me surrounded by monstrous creatures who alternately lunged at me and retreated, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until I wanted to scream. And then I did scream, when one of them spoke.

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