Page 113 of The Prince of New York

Maybe she’d show some mercy once she found out what we were about. Maybe.

The motes formed and zipped off, dim enough to resemble sunlight spilling through the canopy overhead if glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. Then, as I hadn’t yet mastered the art of perceiving what was around the tiny conjurations, I waited.

Should the motes have need to take on lethal forms, I would know it, and they wouldn’t, not unless they found a target to eliminate. A split second would separate the surge of magic from the death of my victim.

We waited.

Nothing happened.

I frowned, narrowing my eyes as I considered the options. Had the camp been emptied? Had our quarry fled? Had something blocked my talent from progressing?

It didn’t take long for my flames to travel a mere half a mile.

A single tug indicated my talent had foundsomethingproductive to do, although insufficient to actually kill anyone. The sense reminded me of when my talent sought to comfort one of my children, summoning me to handle the matter further. As I doubted my own talent would lead me into a trap, I shrugged and said, “Looks like it’s time to go investigate.”

“Already?” Terry asked, and he frowned. “Your talent likes toying with some of its prey, Ian.”

“Yeah, there’s something up, and I’m not sure what. But if there were any threats, my talent saw no need to deal with them. There was one tug.”

Terry glanced at our guide. “How long ago did we get the latest intel from the camp?”

“We left the position an hour before our group left so we wouldn’t run risk of exposure.” Our guide frowned. “Everything was normal.”

“Ready for some fun, Daphne?”

“I was born ready. Let’s go see what’s going on, shall we?”

With a little luck, the terrorists had gone off to do something, leaving us to snatch the hostages, grab intel, and bail. In the worst-case scenario, we’d have a firefight, one I meant to win with ruthless efficiency. In either case, if I had my way, we’d be the undisputed victors and on our way home sooner than later.

THIRTY-TWO

“That’s more than a little disturbing.”

A monsterof a Siamese crocodile dragged the still form of a terrorist our way, releasing the body nearby. Then, because I intrigued all reptile kind, it came over to engage in aggressive cuddling, rubbing against my legs until I bent over to offer pettings. It seemed to appreciate me scratching it between its eyes.

The little female in my pocket observed with interest, making an odd blend of a chirp and a croak.

After receiving its share of scratches and affection, the crocodile slid into the water, leaving us with the rather mutilated terrorist.

I regarded Terry with wide eyes. “I think one of us needs an empathy evaluation, Terry. The local wildlife is not behaving normally.”

“That’s an understatement, Ian. I’m going to suggest that you are the current cause of our situation.” Then, as Terry had zero common sense, he came over and scratched Smalls under her tiny little chin. “I’m torn between being highly concerned about what’s going to be living in the palace and rather pleased with your new friend.”

“I’m both,” I confessed. “Daphne? Can you tell what killed him?”

The woman bent over, reached down, and grabbed the corpse by his hair, lifting his head out of the water.

The cause of death involved his head having been almost fully severed by something with sharp teeth.

“I’m going to guess the cause of death was a crocodile, and the crocodile got a hold on his throat and shook him with extreme violence. He bled out; all the major veins and arteries in the neck are severed,” she reported before letting the body fall and beginning the process of checking his pockets for anything of use, finding nothing. “Leave him. We can collect the body later, assuming the wildlife doesn’t enjoy him as a snack. And if they do, they deserve it for a job well done. Just watch where you step.”

The next corpse we came across had an entire writhing mass of black and yellow snakes similar to the one Eddie carried with him in the circular cage. His new pet showed no sign of wanting to join the party, and I could assume that if bitten sufficient times, people could die from the toxin. “That’s more than a little disturbing.”

“That’s another understatement, Ian.” Terry gave the snakes a wide berth, heading in the direction of where we believed the camp was. Because snakes and crocodiles weren’t bad enough, several bears fought over more corpses, we encountered a startling number of tigers and leopards, who came over for their fair share of attention, and enough venomous snakes our guide paled and warned us many could kill us with a single bite.

I found my parents, barely recognizable, mauled with the characteristic claw and bite marks of large cats. A mix of tigers and leopards waited nearby, and I could make a few guesses on the nature of the magic at play. My sister’s tigers and my leopards had set us both free. I would not need to worry about any guilt. If the large cats wanted to kill me, they would, and I took my time greeting each one, braving their bloodied fur, and offering them pettings and chin scratches in wordless thanks for solving a painful problem.

There would be blood on my hands, but not today.

---