The magic felt greasy somehow, like rotting fish. Everything in her wanted to recoil.
Instead Gen reached out, found the point where the lines met over Fred’s chest to shoot down into his heart. Sick pity blended with helpless anger at the thought of someone using the poor man’s life force to power a spell this foul. Fred deserved better.
Damned if she’d let his killers get away with it.
In her mind, Gen visualized a glowing broadsword. She pictured taking it in both hands. Imagined the weapon’s weight, its cool, steel purity, the feel of the leather wrapped around the hilt, until she could see the shining blade behind her closed lids, white against the sullen red glow of dark magic.
Gathering every bit of power that remained to her, she focused it and swung the mystical weapon with the full weight of her will behind the stroke.
BOOOOM!
The magical detonation hit her in the face like an enormous fist, knocking her backward. Kurt’s strong, warm arms caught her before she could hit the ground.
“Take that, you son of a bitch,” Gen gasped, and everything went dark.
Chapter Five
Indigo screamed.
Virgil Ford jumped in alarm and whirled in time to see his wife pitch forward. She hit the ground face-first and went into a grand mal seizure, back arching, limbs jerking. A high, wheezing cry tore from her contorted lips.
“Indigo!” He dove for her in a panic. He’d never seen her do that before.
Thank God for the spells on their Spook Suits, because they were barely out of the sanctuary. Without that magic, they would have been caught for sure. BFS was swarming with cops who would’ve heard her shrieks. As it was, the only reason Virgil could see or hear her was the exception built into the spell to let them perceive each other.
“Oh, Jesus!” He grabbed her wrists and held on as she bucked and heaved with that inhuman screech. Even as strong as he was, Virgil could barely control her. He ended up flinging a leg astride her hip and sitting on her to hold her down.
What the hell had gone wrong?
At last she collapsed, panting. Looking around to make sure nobody was close enough to see them, he grabbed the knit mask and dragged it off over her head. Which would probably make her look like a decapitated head, but it couldn’t be helped.
Her face was agonized, her eyes staring blankly, wide with pain and shock. Looks like some kind of spell backlash.
He’d seen this once during the war, when someone had broken one of her spells. If so, she was in for one hell of a migraine, even apart from the aftereffects of the seizure.
She clamped her eyes shut, her teeth grinding together in an expression of agony.
“What happened?” He hoped it was only backlash. He didn’t think the tiger had injured her, or she’d probably be dead already. “Talk to me, damn it!”
“Spell…” She gasped. “Somebody broke… the… fucking spell!”
“Which spell?” She had dozens of them running. He only hoped it wasn’t connected with one of the sacrifices. He’d hate like hell for a sacrifice to have died for nothing.
She pried her lids open and glared at him. “What spell do you think? The one on Briggs.” She reached out a shaking hand. “Give me that mask before they find us.”
He slid it back on over her head himself, knowing her headache was probably too savage for her to manage it. “I thought you said the cops in this town didn’t have an Arcanist.”
“They don’t. A department this size shouldn’t be able to afford somebody with the kind of talent it would take to break one of my spells.”
“He’s that good?”
“Yes, he’s that good. Get off me, we’ve got to get going.”
Virgil rose and helped her to her feet. “What are we going to do?”
She swayed, then steadied herself and took a careful step in the direction of the BFS arena. “We’ve got to go back so I can kill that damned Arc. Then we’ll have to lay low for a while until I can recast the spell.”
He stared at her masked face. It glowed crimson with magic to his Feral senses. “Are you crazy? Every cop in the county has converged on this fucking place. There’s no way in hell we’re going to be able to…”
“We’ve got to,” she snarled over her shoulder, still hobbling the way they came. “If we don’t, it’s all for nothing. The master spell won’t work without this section. Everything we’ve done, everyone we’ve sacrificed will be for nothing.”
He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was wearing that chilly fanatic gleam he hated. Virgil loved her, but sometimes he thought she really was crazy. God knew she had reason to be. “Maybe we should just forget this.”
“That’s not an option. Those Humanist bastards are about to ram through NTRA. This is the only way to stop them. Where’s my fucking weapon?” She glanced around, spotted the rifle she’d evidently dropped, and pointed at it imperiously.
With a sigh, he picked it up and handed it to her. “I thought the idea was to keep down the collateral damage. Maybe we have to make another sacrifice, but that doesn’t mean we’ve got to kill the Arc.”
“If this guy is as good as I suspect, he’ll realize the spell he broke is part of a larger working. If he hasn’t, somebody will. They’ll start looking for patterns, and once they do, they’ll figure it all out. They’ll track us down, Virgil. And some of those states have the death penalty.”
“And we’d be separated.” His gut twisted at the thought. He’d never see her again. Both of them would disappear into some Talent prison, never to see the light of day again, even if they weren’t executed. “Christ, Indigo, let’s just forget this.”
He saw again the face of the man he’d just killed. The faces of all the Ferals he’d killed to make her vision reality. I should never have let her talk me into this.
She turned her head with an effort, as if fighting the aftereffects of the backlash. “I’m not giving up! I have seen this, Virgil. If they pass NTRA, internment camps are the next step. We have to stop them!”
“But what if what we’re doing guarantees NTRA passes? I’m tired of killing, Indigo! Look, we can leave the country, go somewhere without an extradition treaty with the US. We can finally retire, sit in the sun and drink those froufrou drinks you like.”
“And the people we killed will still be dead! For nothing. Or we can finish it and build a better world. Just one more and it will be done.” Her gloved hand touched the side of his face. He felt it even through the mask he wore, the tingle of her power, stronger and more seductive than any he’d ever felt.
Virgil’s entire body leaped in response. She’d always had that effect on him. But…”I’m tired, Indy. I’m afraid we’re going to go down in history like that fuckin’ Caliphate sorcerer bin Laden.”
“Please.” His heart wrenched at the pain and pleading in her voice. “Please help me. I can’t do this without you. If we just have courage a little longer, it will all be worth it. I swear to you.”
His shoulders slumped. “You can’t just kill that Arc in front of a dozen cops. They’ll bring in the Feds, and when they do…”
“None of the others brought in the Feds. My magic worked on them, and it’ll work on this bunch once the Arc’s out of the picture. I’ll cast another spell, get them all under control. If we do it fast enough, they won’t have time to call anybody. We’ll be able to finish it.”
How the hell did she talk him into this shit? “All right, damn it. Let’s get it done.”
* * *
Kurt put Genevieve down just as she started coming around. He pushed her hair back from her face and studied her in worry. She was paler than the sand she lay on, and her blue eyes looked dazed. He wasn’t surprised. He could still feel his teeth vibrating from the shock of that spell snapping. “Genevieve?”
She moaned. “Not so loud. My head…”
“I’ll get the paramedics,” Sawyer said and turned to gesture to the ambulance team who’d arrived to transport Fred�
�s body. The pair, a weedy Latino man and a plump blonde, grabbed their stretcher and started inside the enclosure with it.
“Wait…” Gen gasped. “Have your guys… Check the park again. Whoever cast that spell probably collapsed. If they’re still here… you may be able to catch them.”
Kurt frowned. “Given the Spook Suits, I doubt they’ll be able to see the killer even if he is out cold. And given what kind of bastards we’re dealing with, that may be a good thing. Not only do they have serious power, but if they’re some kind of wetwork team…”
“Professional assassins?” Sawyer frowned uneasily. “You think that’s likely?”
“That was a hell of a shot. Not many people could’ve stayed cool enough to make it with a tiger jumping them.” Dave’s tail flicked. “On the other hand, this is the South, and a lot of people are good shots with a long gun.”
“Yeah, but Spook Suits are a lot harder to create,” Kurt argued, stepping back to let the paramedics get to Genevieve. “They’re not the kind of thing you just whip up on your mom’s sewing machine.”
“Neither was that spell.” Genevieve flinched as one of the medics shone the light into her eyes while the other took her blood pressure. “Whoever cast it had to be a heavy hitter. It had multiple layers of complexity, and he laid it fast. Otherwise Fred would have caught him at it.” She paused thoughtfully. “Or her. Could have been a female Arc, I suppose.”
Kurt frowned at her, running a thumb over his lower lip. “But why? Why do this? Why fight my father and kill him? Or for that matter, why do it with a manifestation? Why not shoot him from a distance?”
“Hard to penetrate a manifestation with a bullet,” Jake pointed out.
Dave sat back on his haunches and cocked his head. “Depends on how many times you shoot him. If you hang back and blast him long enough, you can punch through.”
Kurt waved an impatient hand. “Point is, that bear Feral took a big chance. Dad could easily have killed the bastard -- he fought hard.” His gaze flicked toward his father’s body, then away again as pain shafted his heart. “If I hadn’t distracted him by getting myself shot…”
“Oh, bullshit,” Dave growled. “I’m so tired of watching you flog yourself. First about me and Bobby, now your dad. You’re a Feral, not fucking Superman.”
Jake folded his arms, frowning deeply. “No, but Kurt does have a point. Why didn’t they shoot Fred?”
“They needed it for the magical charge,” Genevieve told them, ignoring the paramedics, who murmured quietly to each other. “Different kinds of death provide varying magical charges. Killing somebody in combat while risking death yourself is about as big as it gets.” She frowned. “I reiterate, what the heck did that spell do?”
“Ask your little witchy friends,” Sawyer told her. “In the meantime, we need to get out of this arena and let my forensics team get to work before we destroy what little evidence survives.”
Kurt rubbed a hand over his aching forehead. He knew the man was right, but the idea of leaving his father’s body went against the grain. Although…”We can help with the search. Just tell your guys not to shoot us.” A wave of blood lust rolled through him. Once he found the shooter and that murdering bear Feral, the police wouldn’t have to worry about putting anybody on trial.
Jake, unsurprisingly, seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. “Why don’t you let me take care of that? I can see magic too, and I’m a cop. You’re not.”
Kurt opened his mouth to snarl, but Dave interrupted. “Do we really want to leave Genevieve by herself? Considering that she just broke the spell they killed Fred to cast? What if they come back and try for her now?”
Shit. He stared at his friend, feeling sick. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“You’re not thinking straight.” Dave flicked a fuzzy ear. “I sure as hell wasn’t after I died, and nobody’d murdered my father right in front of me.”
Before Kurt could reply, Sawyer pointed at the bulbous housing mounted on a nearby light pole. “Is that a camera? Do you have security video in this place?”
“Sure. Security cams, plus web cams carrying live feeds of the enclosures.”
“People love to watch the kitties,” Dave observed. “But I doubt any of them will show much. Spook suits are designed to bend most electromagnetic energy, so cams don’t pick them up any better than eyes.”
“Yeah, but suits can’t hide manifestations, and I saw that bear,” Kurt said. “The cameras’ll pick up the fight.”
“Could you burn a copy of the footage for me?” Sawyer looked down at Genevieve, his gaze searching and concerned. “Do you think you’d feel like reviewing the arena footage with me?”
Kurt stiffened. And watch Dad die?
“Of course.” But there was something a little tight in her expression. She obviously liked the idea no better than he did.
Sawyer gave her a relieved smile. “Thanks. Maybe you can spot something that will help us catch these guys.”
“I’ll give it my best shot.”
Which was a damned good point. If she could find anything at all to let them catch these bastards… they need to die.
Unfortunately, there was a hint of acridity to Genevieve’s scent he knew meant pain. Kurt frowned at her and asked the paramedics, “Does she need to go to the hospital?”
The EMT shrugged. “Her pupils are equal. Blood pressure is a little elevated, but…” She looked at Genevieve. “How about it. You want to go to the hospital?”
“Heck, no, it’s just a headache from breaking that spell.” She grimaced. “It was one hell of a spell.”
“Then let’s get you inside.” Dave’s tail whipped once. “My shoulder blades are itching.”
“Yeah, mine too.” She started to sit up, grimacing.
Kurt rose, bent, and swept her into his arms. She felt almost weightless, probably a result of his new strength.
She glowered up at him with a mix of pain and offended pride. “I can walk.”
“You can’t even sit up.” His arms tightened.
“Lighten… up a little, Kurt,” she gasped. “You’re hurting me.”
He almost dropped her, then had to shift her weight in his arms, making her suck in a breath.
Jake looked up as he crouched near Fred’s body, where he was attempting to get the killer’s scent. “They talked about that in training, remember? It takes some time to get used to the increased strength your cat gives you.”
Carefully, Kurt eased his grip and shifted her weight to avoid jolting her more than he had to. “Yeah. Yeah, all right. Is that better?”
“Look, just put me down. I can walk.”
“I don’t think so. Besides, in the shape you’re in, you can’t walk fast enough.”
“And the longer we’re out here, the more in danger we’re all in,” Dave put in.
She sighed. “All right, damn it.”
As they walked, Sawyer snapped orders into his radio. “We’re looking for two subjects, probably dressed in magical camo designed to make them invisible. Keep an eye out for anything moving with no visible cause, because one of them may be moving it. One subject is a Feral bear, and the other is an Arc with a long gun. If you see a glowing lion, that’s our Feral deputy…”
“And don’t shoot the tiger either,” Dave muttered. “Last time, I didn’t like it at all.”
Kurt snorted. “I didn’t think much of it either.”
* * *
“It’s a woman.” Simmering rage heated Indigo’s voice as they crouched in the brush, watching Briggs’ son walk past carrying a slender redhead in his arms. A tiger and someone who was probably a cop followed. “I think I recognize her. It’s Genevieve Reyes. She’s an Arcanist painter -- I read an article about her in The New York Times. It didn’t say anything about her working with the local cops.” Her voice dropped into a snarl. “Traitorous bitch.”
“If we try to take her out now, we’re going to get caught,” Virgil pointed out uneasily. “And then
your spell will never be finished. If you know who she is, we can find out where she lives and pick her off later.”
Indigo considered that a long nerve-racking moment. “All right.” The words sounded as if she bit them off between her teeth. “We’ll wait. It’ll give me more time to think of a really good way to make her pay.” She turned back toward the park exit, passing unseen between two cops. “Whoever we have to kill to make up for Briggs is going to be on her head.”
* * *
Kurt crossed the central green with Genevieve in his arms, passing the Gift Shop and the Cat Clinic. Cops worked their way through the trees, radios crackling, flashlights throwing dancing beams of illumination as they searched for the killers.
He climbed the steps of a long, low building painted rustic brown with a wrap-around porch. A wooden sign with the lion logo stood out front with the words BFS Offices scrolled in gold.
Decades before, it had been a farmhouse belonging to one of Kurt’s great uncles. Dad had renovated it for use as an office soon after he’d opened BFS.
Kurt had to put Genevieve down to unlock the door. She leaned against the wall, looking tired and a little pale, while he dug out his keys.
“You sensing anything?” he asked Dave as his friend peered out at the darkness around them. The tiger’s night vision was better than his -- at least, without resorting to magic.
“I’m not sure,” the tiger grumbled. “She may have broken that fuckin’ spell, but the mojo lingers. I feel like somebody’s drawing a bead on my furry ass.”
“Me too.” The door creaked as he swung it open, releasing a blessed wave of air conditioning.
He led the way down the narrow hallway into the video suite.
A cheap black semicircular desk presided over a bank of monitors that showed video from both security cameras and live Web Cams. A humming PC tower stood under the desk, while a mic, keyboard, mouse, and a pen tablet waited on top of it.
Arcane Kiss (Talents Book 1) Page 7