Magic Without Mercy

by Devon Monk

  Then from the middle of the Authority, I heard a broken yell. Two goons who had worked for Bartholomew heaved a massive spell across the field. A roll of blue fire caught and poured across the grass, burning and electrocuting everyone who couldn’t throw a Block, a Break, or a Protection spell.

  Nothing could stop it. It was too fast. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t throw magic. And it was headed right for me.

  I turned to run, and a hand gripped my arm, pulled me up off my feet. Yanked me away.

  Not Zayvion. Not Shame.

  “Run, Allie.” It was Kevin, Violet’s bodyguard. He pushed me forward as he spun and spread his stance. He threw a Block spell that could extinguish the sun. The blue fire hit it, hissed and blistered, and was snuffed out.

  Count one more fighter on the good guys’ side.

  I ran. To open ground, back toward the wall, where Paul stood defending magic that licked and crackled past Maeve’s Shields. There was still no sign of Nola or Cody or Stone. I pivoted to look out over the fight again.

  Melissa Whit broke free from the crowd. She was running my way. Even at this distance, I could see the glint of her teeth, bared in hatred.

  She wasn’t headed to the wall. She was after me, out to kill me. She pulled her shotgun up to her hip as she ran, then fired.

  Maeve’s Shield stopped magic, not bullets.

  I fumbled for my gun, pulled it free from the holster. I raised the gun. But couldn’t fire.

  My finger was on the trigger. I couldn’t force myself to squeeze, couldn’t fire the shot.

  Melissa didn’t pause. Melissa didn’t stop. She fired again.

  A hand reached around from behind me. A hand wrapped warm and strong over my hand on the gun. A finger slipped on top of mine and a man pressed tight against my back. I could feel his heat and arousal.

  “Just relax,” Collins said, his voice an intimate exhalation in my ear. “And let me show you how to kill someone.”

  “No,” I said, “don’t.”

  He pulled his finger and my finger down on the trigger.

  The kick of six shots in rapid succession shook through me, through him.

  Melissa Whit shuddered with each bullet that buried into her flesh in a clean circle over her heart. She staggered. Fell.

  “Was it good for you?” Collins said.

  I turned to punch him in the face, but he was already ripping the gun from my hand and backpedaling fast. Then he took off running.

  That son of a bitch.

  The horror of what I’d done raced through me and froze me in place. I hadn’t fired the shots, but I hadn’t stopped Collins either. I’d killed a woman. I’d shot someone until that person was dead. Again.

  She was not an innocent in this, Allison. She wanted everything Bartholomew wanted.

  My dad’s voice snapped hard and sharp in my mind. I blinked several times, trying to get my bearings.

  Defend yourself, Dad said. Defend your friends.

  I hated taking orders from him, but he was right. I couldn’t fall apart now. Plenty of people were going to die today. Some of them by my hand.

  But not with a gun. I drew my sword, the rightness of it doing more good to clear my head than anything else, and scanned the field.

  Victor was holding his own against at least half a dozen magic users, canceling and breaking each spell they threw at him, while Hounds took out knees with baseball bats, threw dirt in eyes, and fought dirty with weapons and magic.

  Collins had given up on the gun and produced a crowbar from somewhere, probably from one of the Hounds who was down. He used it with a vicious sort of glee, a wide smile on his blood-spattered face. He swung it like a bat, then with surgical precision, cracking bones, breaking limbs. And carving out great hunks of flesh with the hooked end of it.

  Davy and Sunny defended our right flank. Out in the fray I caught the mesmerizing power of Shame and Terric. They fought side by side, light and dark, wielding magic and weapons in perfect sync. They fought with a single mind and single purpose. To kill Jingo Jingo.

  Jingo Jingo had been Shame’s teacher, probably Terric’s too. Jingo Jingo had also betrayed us all and tried to kill Shame’s mother, Maeve. He’d left her with injuries she still hadn’t recovered from.

  Shamus Flynn was not a man who held forgiveness in his heart. There wasn’t room for it with all the hatred caged there.

  Terric fought with an ax in each hand, and I could hear his voice over the roar of the fight. He was chanting magic, using so much he glowed with gold and white light.

  Shame’s voice was lost to the battle, a low hiss of curses, vile and sharp, falling from his lips as he knocked out man after man, the grass dying away to dust beneath his feet with each step he took. He was sucking energy out of grass, the bushes, the trees, calling ribbons of magic to rush to him and feed his anger. The trees might never be the same again, but I did not see him draw the energy or life from a single person.

  He didn’t need to. He was a burning column of controlled hatred, magic whipping around him, black as death, crackling with hungry red flames.

  And then I didn’t have any time to watch. A wide, dark-haired man swung a sword at my head. I ducked, and stayed low, sweeping his feet just as he reached the extension of his swing.

  He stumbled, pushed up, chanting a spell. I couldn’t block magic. I had no defense against it. But it took a lot of concentration to cast magic.

  I lunged, the tip of my katana brushing dangerously close to his face. He parried the move, but stopped chanting to engage my blade. He moved backward, and I was forced to follow, darting in fast, driving him so he didn’t have time to think of another spell. I needed to stay close to stop him, stab him, make him shut up.

  He drew a very quick Freeze spell.

  Holy shit, that was going to hurt.

  I pulled a knife out of my belt and threw it at his head.

  He jerked. The knife sank into his shoulder and the spell he was casting shattered.

  Now!

  I rushed, slammed him in the injured shoulder, and silenced his scream with a punch in the face. He folded to the ground unconscious.

  I spun, ready for a second attacker.

  No one else was near me, the fight still a few yards off.

  Fewer Hounds and fewer Authority members were still standing. But no one was laying down arms.

  Zayvion, Hayden, and Victor were positioned at the front of the onslaught. From the graceful, unconscious way they all seemed to know who was going to throw magic, and who was fighting hand to hand, in a flowing exchange, I suddenly realized that this was not the first bloody battle they had fought in together. They were brutal. Efficient. And worked as a unit.

  But so did our enemies.

  I heard a yell and turned. Shame and Terric were almost on Jingo Jingo. Twenty yards, ten. I could see the fear on Jingo Jingo’s face as he raised his hand.

  The world shook. Thunder rolled beneath our feet, shuddered through the arc of Illusion that covered the park.

  Four women and three men stood in a circle near Jingo Jingo and cast a massive Shield around him.

  The backwash from the huge Shield spell almost blew Shame and Terric off their feet. Shame leaned into it, walking forward as if through fire. Spells in black and red leaped from his hands, spiral gouts that could sear through metal. But they did not touch Jingo Jingo. Did not harm the Shield.

  Terric walked shoulder to shoulder with Shame. Just like on the street with the cop, they pulled magic in a loop between them, black fire dancing in Shame’s hands, white gold liquid pouring from Terric’s. Two hands traced the same spell; two men poured magic into those spells. Magic arced, overlapped, twisted, until there was only one glyph hovering in the air in front of them.

  Death.

  Sweet hells.

  Magic comes with a price. If you kill with magic, you must bear an equal price. To cast Death meant you had to die.

  Or so the common magic user believed. There were ways to defer t
hat price, ways to Proxy it, to Offload it on others, that most people did not know about.

  But Shame knew. Terric knew too.

  Terric threw a Proxy, tied to an Offload, and then cast Ground.

  The spell would kill.

  The price for that killing would flush through the three spells, spreading the price like a net over the ground, over the trees, over the bushes, over the river. A lot of living things were about to die when that spell hit its mark. But none of those living things were people.

  Except for Jingo Jingo.

  Jingo Jingo yelled, “To me! All to me!” The Authority turned, retreated, fighting their way to Jingo Jingo’s side.

  Except the Hounds wouldn’t let them.

  Jamar swung a metal bat like he’d been street brawling all his life, and took out Joshua Romero’s knees. Just to his right, Theresa cast a Sleep spell that knocked six people flat. Ahead of her, Sid cast a Hold spell, locking the twins Carl and La in midstep. The new Hound, Karl, was using some kind of Taser that had a frighteningly quick recharge. But he was not quick enough to stop one of Bartholomew’s goons from aiming a gun at Sid, and shooting him.

  Sid crumpled to the ground.

  “No! Get the wounded out of there,” I yelled.

  Jack and Bea pounded across the distance to where Sid lay and pulled him out of the fray.

  Terric and Shame didn’t seem to notice any of this. They drew their hands in perfect, mirrored strokes and threw Death at Jingo’s protectors, at the Shield, at Jingo Jingo.

  Then Shame pulled a gun from his coat and aimed at Jingo Jingo’s heart.

  He fired shot after shot, emptying out the cartridge, cursing as each bullet flew, wrapping the bullets in bloody black spells.

  Still the Shield held.

  Terric pulled one of his remaining knives. It glowed white-hot with magic. He threw it at the nearest person holding Jingo Jingo’s Shield.

  The woman screamed and buckled as the knife buried in her leg.

  And Jingo Jingo’s Shield fell.

  The Death spell hit Jingo Jingo square in his massive chest, and riding with it was bullet after bullet. He shuddered, stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock.

  Then he smiled. He lifted one wide hand and placed it gently on the injured woman’s head. He stroked her hair, and looking straight at Shame, he drank her life down until she was nothing but bones.

  “No!” Shame yelled.

  Gasps and cries of shock rose from other people on the field, including members of the Authority. The fighting slowed.

  Jingo was bigger now. Stronger. The ghost of the woman he had just killed clung to him, black holes where her eyes should be, serrated teeth hungry for magic. Hungry for death. She was now nothing but a Veiled.

  Jingo pointed one thick finger at Shame. A black, electric arc of magic shot out and dug into Shame’s chest.

  Shame yelled, but didn’t fall.

  Then the electric arc ran bloody as Jingo Jingo drank Shamus’ life down.

  I wanted to run. Run to save Shame. Run to save Terric, who fought alone at his side. Run to save my Hounds who were falling, my friends who were dying.

  But I could not use magic.

  “Zay!” I yelled. “Shame.”

  Zay looked across the field. He ran, and even at a dead sprint, he commanded magic to do his bidding, wielded it to cripple, maim, end. Anything, everything, to speed his flight to Shame and Terric.

  The battle slowed to an unworldly rhythm. I heard Maeve yell, saw her fall beside an already unconscious Hayden. When had Hayden fallen?

  There was blood everywhere.

  Paul unloaded his gun into the wave of men, a dozen at least, too many, far too many, who were almost at the wall. Men who threw Unlock, Impact, Implosion, and half a dozen other spells to break the wall. Men who would kill Cody and Nola without a second thought. Men who would destroy Stone.

  We were losing. Dying.

  “Allie!” Paul yelled.

  The wall buckled, magic thinning.

  I saw Cody on his knees in front of Stone, Nola standing beside him.

  The wall crumbled. Magic tore apart like sand beneath a hurricane.

  I couldn’t stop it. I desperately looked for who could. Victor was down, clutching one hand over his bloody eyes, holding a Shield spell in the other. Maeve was on her knees, maintaining a Protection over Hayden’s unconscious form.

  Davy and Sunny fought alongside Kevin, barely holding off their attackers. And Collins was nowhere to be seen. That left Zay and me.

  We weren’t losing. We had lost.

  But I refused to let Nola and Cody die for our failure.

  “Zay!” I reached for his soul.

  He risked a look, and saw beyond me to the wall that was falling, to the men who were waiting with swords and magic and knives for Nola and Cody.

  And then Paul went down, struck by a bolt of magic that lashed a whip of pure copper fire down his spine.

  Zay gave one last look at Shame and Terric, who were fighting against a mob of bodies that pressed in on them, deflecting magic and blows with the unconsciousness of two minds locked between two bodies, using magic in ways no one else could.

  Making magic bend to their will.

  Soul Complements.

  Zay had to choose. Help Shame and Terric kill Jingo Jingo, or save Cody, Nola, and Stone.

  Desperation crossed his face as he realized he couldn’t get to either side of the field fast enough. Not without magic.

  Zay sheathed his sword and cast Gate.

  The explosion of the spell opening in front of him, closing, and instantly opening in front of the wall rocked the park.

  And when he stepped through to the wall, he had his sword in his hand again. He wielded so much magic, half the men waiting to kill Cody went down.

  And so did the wall.

  Zayvion turned and stood with his back to Stone and Cody and Nola, standing between them and me, facing the Authority. He cut another glyph into the air, then spread his arms, his feet braced wide as if ready to bear a great weight.

  He spoke three words and magic arched across his body, licking like silver fire, painting glyphs against his skin, against the air. Magic shot out, pouring from his left hand to encircle the boundary of where Cody and Stone and Nola stood, then returned to his right hand. Magic created a barrier, a protection around them.

  And Zayvion was that barrier.

  The pain of it crawled across my skin and set fire to my nerves. I screamed. Even though I wasn’t touching him, I felt magic devouring him, killing him, burning him alive.

  The wall he created was a Grounding, a Shield, a Closing. It was a protection that was powered as much by his body, his will, and his ability to endure pain as by anything else.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t feel my own body beyond his pain.

  But I heard Shame yell.

  I looked up.

  As Terric threw himself between Jingo and Shame. He swung his ax, wielding a Cleave spell. And sliced through Jingo Jingo’s spell that was killing Shame. The spells collided and an explosion poured over him like acid. Terric stiffened.

  Terric stood there for a second, a heartbeat, as blood bloomed in patches across his skin and poured free. And then his ax slipped from his bloody hand.

  He severed the hold Jingo Jingo had on Shame. But at a cost. At a high cost.

  Shame, weak, winded, somehow managed to catch Terric as he fell and lowered his bloody body to the ground. He pulled a Block spell around them, a spell so strong it ate into the ground and sent up tendrils of smoke.

  Even at this distance I could read Terric’s lips as he looked up, searching Shame’s face.

  “Last thing… we do,” Terric said, his eyes clear though his breathing was ragged and blood poured a river around him. “If it’s the only… thing. We do… together. Kill. That. Bastard.”

  “No.” Shame shook his head, dark bangs wet with blood and sweat. “We’re going to get you to a doctor,” he said. “We
’re going to fix you.”

  “I know… what my pain’s worth too,” Terric said. “I give you my… life… and soul, Shamus Flynn. Make it worth it. No mercy. Kill Jingo Jingo.”

  Terric dragged his hand to the crystal in Shame’s chest and pressed his palm there.

  Shame leaned over him, pressing his forehead against Terric’s forehead as if by doing so he could make him hear him, make him listen to him, make him live.

  “This isn’t how it happens,” Shame said raggedly. “This isn’t how it ends. Not for you.”

  Terric mouthed one last word. I couldn’t tell what it was. It might have been love; it might have been liar.

  Then Terric exhaled, and Shame suddenly breathed in, taking down Terric’s soul, green like growing things, brilliant gold like sunlight, and silver shot with moonlight that poured pure, living energy into the crystal in Shame’s chest, into the air in his lungs. Terric gave Shame his life, his energy, his soul.

  And then Terric Conley died and lay still.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Shame paused, not breathing, holding himself even more still than Terric. Then he gently laid Terric down on the grass. Head low, eyes burning white and silver through the dark swing of his bangs, Shame stood and smashed apart the Block spell.

  His back was toward Jingo Jingo, yet he stood there, unguarded. He pulled his chin up and gazed at Zayvion, keeping Cody and Nola and Stone safe, looked at Maeve and Hayden beneath the Shield she held, looked at Davy and Sunny, and Victor and Kevin, all who were still fighting, still breathing, still living.

  Even though there was no chance we would win this battle.

  And then he looked at me. He knew we couldn’t win. But he made his decision anyway.

  “No,” I said, little more than a whisper. “Shame, don’t.”

  Shame smiled, and tipped his face to the sky, closing his eyes as if in prayer, as if savoring the last breath he would breathe. He lifted his hands palms up at his sides, welcoming the wind and the rain to wash away his sins.