Page 104 of Junk Magic

“Well, it’s going to have to. I used up most of my arsenal and magic keeping us alive back there. I’m running on empty—”

“I’ll help you.”

“You’re no better at illusions than I am, and how are you not out of juice? Plus, you’re not even armed.”

“Am now,” I said, and grabbed the shotgun that I kept under the seat.

“Yeah, because that’s going to do fuck all when—”

“Would you two shut the hell up?”

I thrust the shotgun into the startled face of the Were father. Who batted it aside after a second, because he apparently did have some gumption, after all. And maybe more than I’d thought, because the next moment, he was back on board.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Saving my bardric.” He tried to fasten the seatbelt, which was in no way suited to his transformed body. So, he sunk a massive set of claws through my dashboard instead. But I didn’t complain, and not only because I was currently driving a hunk of scrap. But because he was big and tawny and—

“He’s too small,” Caleb said, while sitting beside his abomination.

The wolf and I both turned and looked at him.

“I’m just saying.”

“Get rid of that,” I said, waving at his pathetic attempt at magic. And then looked at the father. “You sure? This is going to be a wild ride.”

“Not if we never get started. Now shut up and drive!”

Well, okay, then.

I backed up, gears grinding all the way, but managed to get us visible from the battle. Caleb, who was better at whistling than he was at illusions, sent a magically-assisted shriek down the corridor, cutting through the din and turning heads. A lot of them.

“Well, shit,” I said.

And then we were moving, with the truck floating up off the ground—because I’d bound a levitation spell to it for a change—and rocketing ahead, with the fulminare charm that Caleb had scrounged out of his depleted stock hurtling us forward while lightning scrawled up the walls behind us.

Fulminare were weapons, not engines, designed to electrocute a large field of enemies all in one go. But we were down to bare bones here and couldn’t afford to be choosy, and it did do the trick. Its propulsion system wouldn’t last long, as the charge was designed merely to carry the weapon through the middle of a group of enemies. But that was just as well, since the initial thrust was in the oh-shit-oh-shit-oh-SHIT category, which would have been terrifying enough on an open road. Here it was tantamount to—

“Suicide!” the father screamed, as we barreled right for a very solid looking wall.

But I’d done more than levy the anti-grav spell. I’d also bound it to the steering column, so that, technically, when I moved the wheel it should move us, too. That technique worked for ley line racers, who used the principle to speed through the metaphysical rivers of power that cut around and through the Earth. But they had apparently refined it more than someone in the midst of a battle spellbinding on the fly.

Because, when I wrenched the steering wheel to the side, it did exactly nothing.

Fortunately, Caleb had scrounged up some magic from somewhere, and threw a pillow charm at the wall ahead of us, causing us to bounce off when we tried to faceplant. Which would have been great, since we were about to be meat otherwise. Only there was the small matter of the fulminare.

Which did not have brakes.

And, as a result, neither did we.

We ricocheted off Caleb’s hastily erected pillow, course corrected, and went barreling right down the corridor again. Since it was in no way straight, that involved a lot of scraping and sparks flying and more ricocheting, this time off the hundred tiny crashes we suffered whenever any rock got in our way. Which was constantly.

That was especially difficult for me, because the formerly courageous Were father was rethinking his life, and doing his best to wrap himself around my body while howling like a banshee. And pieces were sheering off of the sides of my truck, leaving us with little more than a naked chassis after a few seconds. And I was discovering that it was possible to navigate, but that this thing no longer had anything remotely resembling power steering.

If I wanted to avoid being vertical roadkill, I had to really lean in on the course corrections. Luckily, with my new found strength, that was feasible. Unluckily, it was made hard by my terrified blanket, and by a crazed mage jumping down from somewhere above us and trying to curse me into oblivion on the way to the ground.

I guess he’d assumed that I’d put the antigrav spell on the whole corridor again. Too bad, I thought, as he dropped like a stone and then got run over in mid-air. Another bastard tried it a moment later, only he was smarter. He aimed for the truck itself, trying to kamikaze the backseat.

Only to land in the bed instead, and have a furious Caleb kick him off into the waiting arms of the fulminare, which electrocuted the shit out of him.

---