Page 106 of Outlaw Witch

They both take a step forward as I scurry back through the ruined door of the warehouse.

The larger one hefts Zeph over his shoulder without even hesitating. I have no idea how he manages to lift him like the guy’s light as a feather when he’s anything but. Roscoe is lifted like a princess in the other guy's arms and if I wasn’t so seriously freaking the fuck out right now, I might laugh.

Sticking as much to the shadows as possible, I lead them out onto the street. I have to pull deeper on my reserves of magic and focus my mundane glamor on the five of us. Two bulky guys carrying two other massive guys is quite the sight. At least with my glamor focused on all of us, we hopefully shouldn’t draw too much attention our way.

By the time we’ve trekked the entire way back to The Spire, all the way up to the medical wing, I’m exhausted. I’m bruised all over and my head is killing me. Plus, my magic is drained and I’m dragging my feet, feeling achy and hollow inside. The two guys I’m commanding don’t seem to be faring too well either. They’re both limping heavily and one of them is moaning softly to themselves.

I’m feeling kind of icky about forcing them into this, but it’s not like there was much of a choice.

Once my mages are dumped into chairs in the medical wing, I let out a long breath. But I’m not done yet. Even though I feel like I might keel over any minute, I can’t leave the two men inside The Spire. Instead, I keep the worm in their brains and lead them to the elevator.

“Leave this building now. You’ll both forget the events of the past hour,” I say.

I have no idea if it’ll be effective since it’s not like I have Seb’s powers of memory wiping, but it’s all I can do to hope that it works.

*

Zeph

IWAKE UP WITH A POUNDINGhead and a seriously bruised ass. My first thought is that we must have really laid one on last night. Maybe Ro and I got into another scuffle with idiots since there’s nothing like a street fight to get the blood pumping. That was what happened the last time I woke up feeling like this. Bruised knuckles and ribs, a chipped tooth and a hole in my wallet the size of a crater.

Groaning softly, I force my eyes open. It’s damn bright in here. Too much white, and whoever's sheets these are, they’re shit quality and smell weird. Antiseptic.

It takes a second before the room comes into view, another before I blink away the fuzziness in my vision. I’m in the med bay.

Shit, did we get spiked last night?

Or did welosea fight?

That would explain the headache and the taste of battery acid on my tongue. And the massive fucking cast on my leg.

I blink a half dozen times, clearing my vision. Once I can see again, I can just make out Ro in the bed across from me. He’s still passed out cold and there’s a drip hooked up to his arm. Another point in the ‘we got spiked’ column. Or maybe the ‘we got our asses kicked’.

Sitting up makes my head spin so fast I want to puke. Instead, I breathe through it, clutching the rough sheets with my hands.

Fuck.

This is definitely not a hangover from a regular night out.

I squint against the light and slowly, painfully rearrange myself until I’m at the side of the bed.

Gonna sit up any minute and find out what’s going on.

Any. Minute. Now.

As I sit up, deep breathing and shutting my eyes against the light that’s too damn bright, snippets of last night filter through.

We didn’t go to a bar. We didn’t get in a street fight either.

I remember the warehouse.

The boxes.

They exploded. We were going to blow up with them.

Fuck. Someone tried to kill us.

I do a quick scan of my body and can feel my magic is a little depleted in my chest, like it got a good workout recently. Makes sense. It often acts without my conscious thought. Sometimes if I’m in a real bad mood, I wind up summoning a storm.

---