The Doomsday Brethren have sixty seconds to get out before I blow the whole building to kingdom come.
Outside, the weak morning sun filters through gray clouds, lending barely enough light to see Sydney’s wounds. The shape of the slashes tells me she’d gouged her flesh on a nail—or thoseAnarki bastards had pushed her on it—as she tried to get away. She needs direct pressure and stitches immediately.
I strip off my shirt and ease the cloth against the deepest of her wounds. “Be still. We’ll be out of here soon.”
She nods. “I got the film. As soon as I put it together, I’m transcasting it to all of magickind. This will save lives.”
And who will save hers? But now isn’t the time to debate. It simply isn’t going to happen.
Bram emerges from the warehouse, two of the unconverted soldiers behind him. Duke emerges next with another three. Ice and Tynan each bring a handful more. I wish I could have saved Brian. I don’t even have to close my eyes to relive the horrifying moment I plunged the knife into my friend’s neck.
Still, Mathias killed him, and the Brian who tried to off me wasn’t my friend anymore. War means kill or be killed. The guilt will hurt like hell, but I saved Sydney.
And I used magic to do it.
Even though my palms burn, my head hurts, and I feel so weak my thighs tremble, I can’t deny that without magic, she’d likely be dead.
It’s both horrifying and sobering.
I glance at my watch.Five, four, three… Where is Marrok?
Finally, the medieval warrior emerges with nearly twenty of Mathias’s prisoners. They all look shell-shocked and confused. And why not? It isn’t every day a man sees another’s soul ripped out.
“Blow it!” Bram shouts.
No hesitation. I press the button in my pocket. The entire warehouse detonates in a flash of fire, glass, and dust. The Doomsday Brethren step back as bodies fly. Sydney shrieks. Flames lick out, heat rips through the morning air, and the structure collapses. What’s left of its walls are singed black as the pop and hiss of fire eats everything in its path.
Mission accomplished. I only hope that Mathias was still inside. And it killed the son of a bitch for good.
Bram tosses one soldier a cell phone. “Dial nine-nine-nine. Tell them you’re captured soldiers standing in front of the American Embassy.”
“But we aren’t there,” the confused soldier challenges.
Just then, Shock appears and waves his wand. The soldiers all tumble to the ground in a deep slumber.
“Damn you!” Sydney barks at Shock, clutching my shirt to her wound. “I wanted to interview them.”
I turn to glare at her like she’s barking mad. “Hell no!”
“He’s right. No time. Too dangerous,” Bram decrees. “I know it’s not easy, Shock, but see if you can do anything with their memories.”
“Damn near impossible,” he grumbles. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise I’ll be delicate.”
Shock grabs three and teleports out, only to appear moments later and repeat the process.
Clutching Sydney against me, I inhale her feminine scent and thank God she’s alive. She needs medical attention, and we have to get to safety.
Duke sidles up to me a few moments later.
“Ready?” Even after a chaotic battle, the titled wizard looks collected and almost royal.
“Hurry,” I insist, watching Bram take Marrok’s arm. They disappear. Tynan and Ice both teleport out.
“You could learn to do that yourself now, you know?” Duke says.
I could. Since transition, I’ve been “blessed” with common magic like teleporting. But it’s a slippery slope. Accept one “gift,” and how long before I accept the rest of the package?
“Get us back,” I demand “She’s hurt.”