Gareth fished a set of keys out of his pocket and handed them to Savannah. “I don’t want to take any chances Will you take them to the Isles?”
“And what are you going to do?” she asked.
I knew he was going to try to find out who’d made the shots. When he stood, I rose to my feet as well. “You go with Savannah,” he instructed.
I made a face. “No. I need to find out who’s doing this.”
I needed to know who it was—there was a new player in town. Most of the Trackers had been taken into custody, along with many of the militant HF and Human Rights Alliance members.
“Do you think it’s the Human Rights Alliance?” I asked, increasing my pace to fall in step with him.
“Possibly. Over the past few weeks, Lands has been vocal about his dedication to maintaining an alliance with supernaturals, and his goal to work closely with us. It didn’t sit well with their more enthusiastic members.”
I’m not sure why he had a problem calling them batshit crazy militants. But fine, let’s go with “enthusiastic.”
“They’ve been involved in a lot of violence and destruction of property. Most of them have been arrested by the police, and the others we’ve been keeping a close eye on.” He was at a slow jog.
“You think there’s a new player?”
“I don’t know what to think.” With each passing moment, his anger heightened, and I understood it perfectly.
There were still shots being fired from several directions. FSR agents and SG officers started to navigate toward them, their eyes narrowed to scopes as they peered at the top of each roof and at open windows. One of the FSR agents called for Gareth’s attention, giving him a hand signal to let him know which buildings they planned to cover. Gareth was directed to go to a building just a couple of feet from where we were. Although it was doubtful that the shot that hit his nephew had come from that direction, at least we could find out who was involved. I knew Gareth wanted the person who’d shot Avery. Sirens blared off in the distance, I assumed the Isles’ ambulances and perhaps human ambulances as well. Humans’ injuries were from the impact of the objects and didn’t seem to have any other physiological effect.
Faces whizzed by as we ran through the oncoming crowd scrambling to get out of the area. I wondered what was in the shots, angrily remembering Conner poisoning me. If it was just iron or even iridium it would prevent supernaturals from doing magic without killing them, but if it was something that drew out their magic then they would surely die. I took a ragged breath, and Gareth slowed to turn and look at me.
“Are you okay?” he asked. His preternatural speed made it hard to keep up with him, but I was able to as long as I pushed myself. We bounded up the stairs, winding around each flight and going through each of the higher floor levels where the shots could have come from. Nothing. The noise from the street was frenetic and distracting, and I wanted to look out the window to see what else was going on. I really wanted the perpetrators not to be from Humans First. They’d never done anything like this before. Two years ago they’d led a protest, which was nothing but a few guys spewing their rhetoric being drowned out by the sounds of the festivities and people booing them, offering them a drink or witch weed, or telling them “to chill the fuck out.” They’d gotten the hint that most people didn’t care and hadn’t tried it last year.
The second building we went to was taller, giving the shooter a better vantage point. We pounded up the stairs to the second-to-last floor, searching offices to find where someone might be stationed, when we saw the open window. Gareth inhaled, made a face, and directed me to go to the next room. He went in the opposite direction to another. I opened the door and found two men dressed in dark blue camouflage packing away their guns. I waved my hand and one crashed into the wall, where I kept him pinned. The other reached for his gun, but before he could I kicked it out of reach while trying to focus as I held his partner to the wall. He attacked me, clipping my leg and sending me crashing to the floor. My shoulder hit against the hard wood floor. Pain seared through me. I didn’t allow it to break my concentration as I continued to hold his friend. That man’s face was bright red as he strained to rip himself off the wall. His amber eyes fixed on me: narrowed, angry, and vengeful. They were definitely new players, but I wasn’t sure if they were part of Human Rights Alliance. At least they weren’t HF. They were missing the whole brotherhood of spies attire or even the more recent suited look, which was a new spin on the old cliché. These men were sporting fatigues and ready to go to war with the supernaturals. I rolled to my knees and punched the man who’d swiped my leg in the groin. There weren’t any rules of engagement. He grabbed his family jewels, doubling over, and I struck again in his inner thigh.
He wasn’t going down easily. He was quick and kicked me with his steel-toe boots in my ribs. When I went to punch him again, there wasn’t any doubt he’d done a number on my ribs. The pain was distracting, but I still managed to keep his friend pinned to the wall. Grimacing, he clawed at me and took hold of my hair, pulling me to him and hammering blows into the side of my face. I held the one with magic because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fight both of them. The active combatant pushed me to the ground, recovering enough from the groin assault to try to stomp me while I was down. I punched up, landing a heavy blow to his stance leg. He crumbled to the ground. I jabbed my elbow into his stomach, he let out a gasp. Another one went into his chest. He tried to get to his feet, and the next strike went into his throat, making him gasp. Then I crushed the heel of my hand into his nose. Blood splattered from the impact.
I was starting to think I was dealing with someone who wasn’t human when he made a feeble attempt to swing out at me, unable to make contact through his blurred vision. Wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, he smeared it and left bloody lines down his arm. He glanced over at his friend through watery, red eyes, probably still unable to focus.
“You are all alike. You cheat. You would not have us if it weren’t for your magic. There wouldn’t be an alliance if it wasn’t for your magic. We know what you’re doing to us: manipulating our minds, making us forget how horrible you are, but we won’t forget. We were here first and we will be here last.” I didn’t feel like giving him a history lesson about how supernaturals were found to exist far before humans came along. I was sure his revisionist history had his ancestors here, and supernaturals the result of them, and not the reverse, which was true. I prepared myself for the next few moments of his rhetoric of how we were wrong and he was going to rid the world of our kind. The same boring monologue they always gave. But he didn’t. It was almost as if he had given up.
I maintained my defensive stance, waiting for him to attack again. He stood, scowling at me and his friend who was fixed against the wall. Both of them were seething and glaring at me. If looks could kill I would’ve died a thousand times over. When Gareth walked into the room, the man whose nose was still running blood fixed on him with the same hostile look he’d given me. “Animal. Fucking animals.”
Gareth advanced slowly with lithe, padding movements. The shifter ring flitted across his eyes and his lips were drawn back baring his teeth.
“What the fuck did you shoot them with?” Gareth asked through gritted teeth, rage unrestrained, volatile and ready to destroy everything in his path. Both men pressed their lips tightly together, sealing them in silence as if they’d made a pact never to reveal anything. They just waited patiently. I was especially gifted when it came to making Gareth angry—but never this angry.
“I will only ask you this one time. What the hell did you shoot them with? Will they die?”
The man made a dark chuckle. “I hope so.”
Before the last word fell from his lips Gareth was on him His hands closed around the man’s throat before shoving him into the wall. “You better hope they don’t.” The man made gasping sounds as he struggled to breathe, the muscles of Gareth’s arms protruding as he squeezed tighter and tighter.<
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“Gareth.” I said his name softly not wanting to further agitate him. I imagined the only thing he was thinking about was his nephew and whether or not he was going to live. “Gareth.” This time I whispered, gentle and soothing. I had limited experience with shapeshifters but my assumption was to treat them as you would any animal who was on the verge of attack. Don’t make any sudden movements, speak in a soft soothing voice, and stay still.
I went to the guns that they had started to pack away and took out the cartridges to examine what they’d been shooting. They weren’t bullets They were similar to what Gareth had used on Conner and on me. I figured, based on what had happened, that upon impact the casing dissolved and dispensed the serum in the target’s body. I gave one more look at these brutes They were not the masterminds behind this. They wouldn’t have the resources and money it would have taken to make the ammo and modified rifles. I doubted any small organization would have the resources for it.
“Where did you get these from?” I asked, holding up a cartridge. They simply pressed their lips tighter together refusing to let any words pass through them. I shrugged and walked toward the gentleman I had fixed to the wall. I clenched my teeth and worked hard not to show the pain from my ribs. With each step it was getting harder and harder as the throbbing persisted, but I didn’t have the energy to direct to healing because I needed to gather information from him. My lips curled into a smile but it was mirthless, and I must have been a scary sight because his eyes widened just a bit before returning to their narrowed position.
“I’m not going to tell you a goddamn thing,” he hissed out.
“You don’t have to,” I said in a low voice, hardened by my anger. Anger that predated anything he was doing but was reignited by it. I was tired of xenophobes trying to get rid of people who couldn’t help the way they were born. And people trying to nullify others’ magic. The past couple of weeks had really started to wear on me and I knew my rage was misdirected, but I didn’t care.
I asked again, my voice blistering, “Who gave this to you?”
Again, he fixed me with a defiant glare, his lips furled into a snarl. “I’m not going to tell you anything.” His voice was just as gruff as his appearance. I smiled, cloying and gentle. His eyes fixed on the swirls of color that danced around my fingertips. He was human and probably couldn’t feel the influx of power I put in the magic or how it draped through the room. But he could see the menace in my eyes, and that was all that mattered.
“Fae magic allows them to do a lot of things, cognitive manipulation, charming people, and even the manipulation and erasing of memories. I’ll leave you as though you were a child, without the essential skills to survive in this world, and it won’t be able to be reversed.” A fae didn’t need to draw blood, and perhaps I didn’t, either, but I’d never tested it. I knew blood made the spell powerful and definitely ensured that it would work. Today, I didn’t have time to practice. I pulled the small blade from my ankle holster; it wasn’t much for fighting, barely enough to make a fatal cut, but it served its purpose. It sliced across his arm, blood welled, and I whispered my incantation while watching the magic that swirled around him. I pushed just a little bit into his mind, letting him feel me slowly wrapping my magic around it, caressing those memories, and giving him a slight taste of what I could do. He screamed shrilly. Not out of pain—I didn’t think it had hurt—out of anger.
He wailed and screamed and cursed me, calling me every vile name he could think of under the yoke of fear.
“Stop that. I haven’t even really started. Save that for the real thing.”
“You bitch.”
“Seriously, that can’t be the best you could come up with. You have to know I’ve been called worse.”
“Don’t tell her anything,” said the man from across the room whom Gareth had a hold of. I assumed that’s what he said I couldn’t really make out his garbled and barely audible words.
“Apparently you haven’t been paying attention. I’m going to go and play in his mind;.Hopefully, I’ll find when I want. If I don’t, he’s going to be a mess afterward and no good to whoever sent you. It’s going to be quite unfortunate how he’s left. And when I break him, you’ll be next.”
I shot my guy a look. His eyes widened, and I hoped I’d struck enough fear in him that he would spill it all. He briefly allowed himself to show his fear before he quickly accepted whatever I was going to do to him. Dying for his self-righteous cause.
Fine, be a martyr. The vibrant colors of blue, teal, pink, and orange engulfed him for a few moments before pulling together and concentrating on just the upper half. I moved languidly through his mind, getting a glimpse of what was there. Defiance had made this harder—it was like approaching a steel wall. I drew more magic, whisking him off into a somnolent state. His body eased and his head relaxed back against the wall as he gave in to his fate. At one point in going through his mind, I was trying to take care to preserve everything I found, but soon I didn’t care. I rummaged through, finding absolutely nothing of use. Just faces that I couldn’t make out. It was as if the man had known a mind search was a possibility if he was caught and had gone through great pains to make sure he didn’t reveal anything. Dammit.
“Ms. Michaels!” barked an FSR agent. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to save the victims. And find out who did this.” I blocked him out and continued navigating through the folds of my guy’s mind, moving inch by inch trying to pluck those memories and make sense of them. Once again I came up empty. The man slumped down—mental fatigue. I wasn’t sure if he’d be the same person when he woke. Perhaps he’d be less hateful, but he’d probably be more, remembering this violation and adding it to the long list of things he held against the supernaturals.
“That is not how we handle things,” the FRS agent said.
That’s exactly how you handle things. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe him, but for some reason he was putting on a show for the humans who had just shot and probably killed over twenty supernaturals. Their lives, their mental states, and this pseudo-alliance that we shared was what he was trying to protect. I knew it wasn’t about these guys or their safety, but if they were apprehended and treated badly, the world would be watching and judging. When my guy lifted his head again, I directed my attention to him, ready to give it another try.
One of the FSR agents drew his weapon and aimed at me. “Let them go.”
“We’re on the same side,” Gareth growled at him.
“Then she’ll release him as I asked,” he countered, his voice just as grating and rough as Gareth’s. “And you, too. Release that man.”
Almost at the same time, we released them and let them collapse to the floor where they folded into themselves before sliding down to their sides. More FSR agents spilled in, and not far behind them were three human policemen. They looked at the men, checking them for injury before handcuffing them and escorting them out.
The lead FSR agent grabbed the cartridges as the police tried to get a hold of them, shaking his head. “We need samples of this to see if we can find an antidote. The people shot with this aren’t doing well. It seems like it’s slowly drawing the magic out of them, and if it does they will die. “
I looked over at Gareth. His eyes landed on the spot where the men once were, his anger prominently displayed on his face. He walked over to the agent, took a cartridge and took one of the bullet-needles out, and headed out the door without another word. I knew he would probably get to the Isles before the FSR.
Running to catch up with Gareth, I fell in step. “They have the best doctors there as well as powerful mages. They will be able to find something.”
“I really hope you’re right,” he said quietly.
Of course, we were going to get to the Isles before the others because Gareth had broken every speeding law there was as he drove through the city trying to get there. A drive that should’ve taken us twenty minutes was reduced to just over twelve.
The Isles was hectic. Probably more so than it had ever been. They dealt with supernaturals, which meant they didn’t have an flux of injuries very often. Shapeshifters rarely were injured badly enough to require medical intervention. Mages and witches could use healing spells, and even fae had their version. Vampires were nearly indestructible, with the exception of a stake through the heart. Generally, the Isles patients were humans injured by supernaturals. Wounds were healed fast, and depending on what happened, a nice fae might be there during checkout to help the person with a more palatable recounting of the event that had led to the visit.
The panicked look on the nurses’ faces was an indicator that this was something they weren’t prepared for. People moved around with supernaturals on stretchers, taking them to the various rooms, nurses scribbled on their pads as physicians gave med orders, people were nearly running back and forth through the hallway. Codes screeched over the intercom. This reminded me of a regular hospital—a human hospital. Whoever was behind this seemed to want to reduce us to nothing more than just fragile humans.. Eventually, one of the doctors came to Gareth and pulled him aside and started talking to him. I inched closer trying to listen, but they spoke so low I suspected they were trying to be discreet, even though the privacy laws that the human world had weren’t applicable in that of the supernatural. I watched as Gareth tried to take control of his emotions. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. His tense but fluid movements made it obvious that the predator was in the driver’s seat. He handed the physician the bullet-needle and as soon as he did, the physician made a phone call. Moments later someone was taking it away.
I was just about to approach him when a tall woman with light brown hair ran through the front doors. “Gar, what happened?”
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 21