Mag Subject 6 (Mags & Nats Book 2)

by Stephanie Fazio

  The vials arranged themselves in a neat line between the group of Enforcers and the rest of us.

  Okay, so maybe we weren’t handling the situation completely legally. But we were doing it our way.

  And it was working.

  Gray and I locked gazes, and he smiled at me.

  The Agent S vials arranged themselves into a U-shape as they hovered a few feet off the ground, so they made a border around the area where the Enforcers were standing. When the vials were in position, A.J. brought them down to the walkway. The glass vials smashed.

  “Oopsie,” A.J. chortled.

  Green Agent S leaked over the cobblestones. The ground hissed and foamed as the Agent S burned its way through the ground.

  “Take a deep breath,” A.J. advised the stunned Enforcers.

  I held mine as we waited to see if our plan would work. It was a huge risk…one that could either pay off in spades or kill all of us.

  There was an audible crack. The ground shuddered. Then, the cobblestones broke apart. The Enforcers shouted and scrabbled at the air as the path they were standing on crashed down into the water.

  The fall was only about five feet—not enough to hurt anyone. We all rushed to the jagged edge of the walkway to look down. The Enforcers were paddling and splashing around the Boston Harbor as they clung to algae-covered flotsam.

  It was one of the most satisfying things I’d ever seen.

  There was something about their sodden tassels and furious curses that robbed the Enforcers of whatever credibility they’d once had. They were no longer a threat. They were a joke.

  “It’s like the Boston Tea Party!” Yutika squealed. “Except instead of tea, we dumped the Enforcers in the harbor!”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at that.

  Gray, whose eyes were bright with triumph, leaned close to me. “You’ve got this, babe.”

  I turned to the camera. In a clear voice, I said, “This is a message for the US President and anyone else who thinks they have a right to involve themselves in our business.” I waved a hand at the water, where the Enforcers were stripping out of their uniforms to more easily swim to shore. I really hoped the cameramen got a shot of that one guy’s bare ass.

  “We’re shipping back your unwelcome imports,” I said. “And unless you want to get dumped in our harbor like the rest of them,” I inclined my head at the Enforcers in the water, “then you’ll leave the governing of Boston to Bostonians.”

  “No taxation without representation!” A.J. shouted, running with Yutika’s Boston Tea Party reference.

  I had kept my friends illusioned so they wouldn’t be recognized. Hopefully no one would notice the disembodied voices with all the other people around.

  I nodded to the Pyro. He made a closing motion with his fist, and the rope of fire surrounding the UnAllied vanished.

  The UnAllied looked from us, to the cameras, to Valencia.

  Valencia was crumpled in a heap on the pavement.

  “Here’s the situation,” Graysen told the UnAllied in a strong voice. “Your leader has lost all of her magic, which means she’s now effectively a Natural.” He paused, letting that fact sink in. “If you uphold the anti-Natural principles that make the UnAllied who they are, you’ll have to kill her.”

  “But,” I added, “then you’ll be committing magically-motivated murder on live TV.” I indicated the rolling cameras around us. “So, we’re going to politely suggest that you leave now.”

  It was more than a suggestion, and everyone knew it. The Super Mags, who were standing in a loose circle around the UnAllied, flared their magic.

  A ball of fire appeared on the Pyro’s palm. The little Animalist girl leapt from my arms and turned into a feral-looking wolf. The rest of the Super Mags let off bursts of magic that were barely a fraction of their full power.

  The threat was clear. If the UnAllied stuck around, they’d have to answer to the Super Mags.

  The UnAllied were angry, but they weren’t stupid.

  They made for a sorry sight as they allowed themselves to be escorted back to their cars by a group of kids.

  “Desiree!” I called, catching sight of my cousin’s purple and blue braids amid the mass of people.

  My cousin turned around. Even with all the people separating us, I could see the regret pooled in her dark eyes.

  “I’ll get her to Ma,” Michael told me, striding in the direction of my cousin so I could focus. We weren’t out of the woods yet.

  “Filthy goddamn Nats!” Valencia shrieked. She got to her feet and pointed her finger at Gray. Her face was as red as her nails.

  “You’re one of us now, Valencia,” Graysen said, giving her an easy smile. “Welcome to the club.”

  She lunged for him.

  She froze mid-leap as a sticky, almost-transparent string caught around her midsection. She was yanked back to the pavement.

  It took me a few seconds to place the man controlling the sticky substance.

  It was the Spider who’d attacked Gray and me in the alley.

  I didn’t see his Contortionist girlfriend, and I wondered vaguely whether they had broken up.

  “You’re the filthy Nat,” the Spider hissed at Valencia.

  More of the UnAllied were backtracking toward their ex-leader. The Super Mags began to converge on them, but I held up a hand. I didn’t want the Super Mags to have to remove the UnAllied by force. My goal was for everyone who was watching this broadcast to know the Super Mags had helped us. I didn’t want people to be afraid of their magic.

  The Super Mags had done their job, and a majority of the UnAllied had fled. Only about twenty remained, and that was a number the 7.5 could easily handle.

  The Spider and his buddies were circling Valencia like vultures eyeing carrion.

  “You’re not our leader anymore,” one of them said. “You’re nothing.”

  Another UnAllied spat in her direction.

  “This is for your own good,” a third said in a kinder voice than the first two.

  The UnAllied attacked Valencia.

  I felt the brush of titanium as Bri threw herself at them.

  I quickly changed Bri’s illusion so she looked like a totally forgettable person. Gray and I angled ourselves in front of the cameras to block their view of Bri as she punched, kicked, and flipped her way through the UnAllied. There were twenty of them and only one of her, but the UnAllied didn’t stand a chance. They fell to the ground, bleeding and flailing their limbs as they tried to right themselves.

  A.J. nudged Valencia with the toe of his dress shoe. “Begone, oh ye Wicked Witch of the West.”

  Valencia turned and bared her teeth, but there was nothing else she could do to us. She had no followers, no knife-wielding brother, and no rain. She’d become the very thing she hated.

  If that wasn’t poetic justice, then I didn’t know what was.

  One of the UnAllied on the ground was already getting back up—a Combat Mag with muscles bulging from every inch of his body. The look in his eyes promised death.

  Twenty pairs of handcuffs that Yutika had created in record time lifted into the air. A.J. directed each pair to a different, barely-conscious member of the UnAllied on the ground.

  There was a satisfying click as the cuffs snapped into place.

  We didn’t even bother handcuffing Valencia. It was more insulting that way, and as it turned out, I had some leftover resentment from all the times she’d threatened my fiancé’s life.

  “Mag police,” Graysen said, giving the camera a wink. “The UnAllied are all yours.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Well, that went off without a hitch,” Graysen observed, slinging an arm around my shoulder as the cop cars took what was left of the UnAllied away.

  We waited until the cameras stopped rolling before we spoke with the Super Mags, who were milling around nervously now that they’d done what they came here to do.

  “We’d love it if you stuck around,” I told them. “We can help you fin
d a place to live and set you up with foster families.”

  That is, if Ma didn’t insist on taking care of all of them herself.

  “Are you going to make us, if we don’t come willingly?” the Pyro demanded.

  “No, we aren’t,” I told him. “You’re free to do as you please, as long as you don’t hurt anyone.”

  The kids exchanged a look. I could see the unspoken argument they were having. It was clear some of them, especially the youngest ones who were busy petting Sir Zachary, wanted to take me up on my offer. The older ones were understandably more wary.

  “We’ve been caged all our lives,” the Memory Reader said, speaking to Gray. “We need to be on our own for a while.”

  “We’ve been taking care of ourselves just fine,” the Pyro said in a far more confrontational tone. “That’s how it’s going to stay.”

  I couldn’t hide my disappointment. Still, I had no choice but to let them go. I wouldn’t break my word and risk losing the little bit of their trust we’d gained.

  “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find us,” Graysen told them.

  “And if you ever need help,” I added, “we’ll do whatever we can for you.”

  The kids nodded. They all held hands, and then they winked out of existence.

  “That is one powerful Teleporter,” Yutika commented.

  I nodded. I’d never heard of a Teleporter who could transport anyone or anything besides themselves. It made me wonder what other incredible abilities the Super Mags had that we might never know about.

  “You all did a good thing for your city.”

  I turned to Rebecca Greenthorn. She was giving us a curious look as she packed her camera into its case.

  “Thanks,” I told her, when Gray didn’t say anything.

  Rebecca zipped up the camera case, patted her short hair, and sighed. Her ramrod-straight posture drooped a little.

  “Look, Graysen. I know I was a shit mother. And I know I can never make up for that. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to take a crack at being a grandmother. You know, when it’s relevant.”

  Gray looked at me. I gave him a little shrug, telling him I’d support whatever he decided.

  He nodded at his mom. “I think we’d like that.”

  “I just want to make sure we’re clear about the situation,” A.J. told Rebecca, coming over and wedging himself between Gray and me. “Don’t think you’re going to get any preferential treatment in the future. Any and all photo ops need to be cleared with me, since I’m their official publicist.”

  Rebecca raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t argue. She followed the rest of her crew to their truck. Soon, it was just us.

  “On to phase two?” Gray asked our little group.

  “Time to see if we can pull together the fastest wedding in history,” A.J. said.

  “And capture Subject 6,” Bri added, leading the way to the van.

  “Nothing like a challenge to get the blood flowing,” Yutika said.

  ✽✽✽

  While we’d been dealing with the UnAllied, Enforcers, and Super Mags, Boston had descended on the courthouse. The streets were clogged with well-wishers, protesters, and gawkers.

  Even though I’d known this would happen, it didn’t stop me from being thoroughly overwhelmed as we left the broken remains of the harbor walkway and went around to the courthouse’s main entrance. Gray seemed completely at ease.

  Oliver and the Hansley clan stayed close. It was our wedding, and I couldn’t exactly tell them to go home. Still, I hated that they would be in danger just by being near us.

  “Can I please illusion you?” I asked Ma and Grandma for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Not a chance,” Ma replied. “I’m walking you down that aisle, and I’m doing it as myself.”

  I let out a heavy sigh. “How about you two?” I asked Cora and Grandma without much hope.

  “No thank you,” Cora said, giving me a sweet smile. “You’re being so brave with everything you’re doing. I want to be brave, too.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Grandma Tashi cut in before I could say anything.

  “I agree with Cora,” Grandma said. She tilted her head back so she could meet my gaze. “You were right to fight for this city. Your granddaddy would have been the first to say that running and hiding are short-term fixes for long-term problems.” She reached up and patted my cheek. “We’re proud of you, Kaira. Very, very proud.”

  My eyes stung.

  “Thanks, Grandma,” I managed, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

  We didn’t have any more time to talk. People were everywhere, and we were being pushed through the wide hallway and about a million uninvited guests.

  I’d known releasing the photos would draw a lot of attention, but I hadn’t realized quite how much. Half of Boston must have been here.

  I glanced back at Desiree, who was firmly sandwiched between Ma and Oliver. Michael was keeping an eye on my cousin, but I could tell from Desiree’s drooping shoulders that she wasn’t going to try anything.

  She and I would have words later…lots of them. But for now, I needed to focus. The most dangerous part of our plan was looming ahead. I couldn’t afford to lose my concentration or have a blow-out fight with my cousin in front of the entire city.

  Bri and Michael flanked our little group, respectively pushing and politely asking people to get out of our way. Gray and I offered everyone small waves as we were herded through the building.

  My blood began to pump a little faster when I caught sight of Pruwist, dressed in a tux, standing at the top of the stairs. He was shaking the hands of everyone who passed him. It looked like he had campaign volunteers handing out flyers with his face printed above a reminder to vote on the new, early date in July.

  “Bit tacky using our wedding as an opportunity to campaign, don’t you think?” I asked when we reached Pruwist.

  “If you can do it, so can I,” Pruwist said, sounding more like a bully on the playground than the interim Alliance Director.

  “You two are way out of your element,” he continued, smiling brightly and leaning toward us as camera bulbs flashed. “You may be this city’s flavor of the month, but no one is going to elect two wet-behind-the-ears kids, one of whom will soon be standing trial for high law violations.” He put an arm around my shoulder and waved at the people who were clogging the stairway on either side of us. “I hope you weren’t expecting a reprieve from the law because of this little stunt.”

  “Pruwist,” Gray said in a chilling tone. “Get your goddamn hand off my bride.” Even though the cameras and about a hundred people were watching us, Gray removed Pruwist’s arm from my shoulder.

  “I really hate that prick,” Bri muttered as we climbed the stairs.

  “Tell me about it,” I replied.

  The one advantage of Pruwist’s presence was that his police entourage kept the crowd from getting too close to us. I never thought I’d be glad to see the police, but in the wake of the Enforcers, the Boston cops seemed almost friendly.

  “No sign of Subject 6, I take it?” Gray asked me, leaning in so I’d be able to hear him.

  I glanced around, even though I already knew the answer. My friends’ illusions hadn’t wavered once. When I gave Michael a questioning look, he shook his head. He couldn’t sense Subject 6, either.

  “I really thought this would lure him to us,” I said, unable to hide my disappointment.

  I had no idea how we would catch our elusive murderer now.

  “At least today doesn’t have to be a total loss,” Graysen said, giving me a little nudge.

  When we got to the top of the stairs and saw the area that had been set up for the ceremony, all of my worries moved aside.

  An arched trellis stood in front of the wall of glass windows. White lilies and pink roses were twined through the slats, perfuming the air with their fragrant scent. More rose petals were scattered across the short, roped-off aisle.

  A.J. b
roke my stunned silence. He said, “I had to ride herd on the staff to whip this joint into shape.”

  “This is beyond perfect,” I told him. “Thank—”

  “There you are!”

  A tiny, hassled woman in what A.J. would call sensible shoes rushed over. Her hair was falling out of the bun that was held in place with a pencil stuck through its center.

  “You’re late,” she chastised Gray and me. “I expected you hours ago.”

  “Who are you again?” Graysen asked.

  “I’m Myrtle, the wedding coordinator,” she said, looking appalled that the introduction had been necessary.

  “This is the gem who arranged everything I couldn’t do in person,” A.J. explained, giving the beautiful setup a critical examination.

  “Oh, okay then.” I held out my hand. “Thank you for all your help.”

  “There’s no time,” Myrtle squawked. “Lights. Music!”

  I turned around, bewildered. Apparently, whoever Myrtle had been talking to heard her, because the hallway lights dimmed and a cello began to play.

  “Ohmygod,” I said, feeling a little faint. “Is this really happening?”

  Gray turned to me, but Myrtle gave him a hard shove in the direction of the petal-strewn aisle.

  “Get going,” she hissed. “And remember. No kissing.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Graysen raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, a peck on the cheek should be tolerable if you must, be you’d really be better off with a nice hand squeeze when you’re officially pronounced husband and wife.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Bri asked.

  “We took a few unofficial polls,” Myrtle explained in a reasonable tone that made it clear she was humoring us. “The consensus was that a kiss would disgust some of your viewers.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Yutika demanded.

  “You’d have an easier time telling them not to breathe,” Smith muttered.

  Myrtle’s subsequent tirade convinced us all that she was quite serious.

  “No kissing,” Gray said, holding up his hands. “Got it.”