At least he could channel magic through the wood.
Around them, the blues, greens and silvers of mage energy bolts crashed and sizzled against the dirty yellow blasts and shields of their mortal enemies, the ghouls.
Human in appearance except for their jaundiced skin tone and the muddy brown in the whites of their eyes, the ghouls fought to defend the half-dozen buildings that made up their nest.
Rick tugged Jason backward, toward a big oak where no one was currently battling. In tacit agreement, they crouched to take stock.
Like the deputy shire reeves, both Rick and Jason wore camo fatigues and combat helmets that magically reflected the surrounding forest. The gear wouldn't deflect a blast of ghoul magic, though. The shielding cocoon of magic Rick spun around the two of them would have to do that, just as the magical screen Jason maintained would keep them from being seen–and targeted–by anyone not inside its area.
"The deputies are through the fence." Pointing, Rick directed his partner's attention to the hand-to-hand combat spilling into the compound through melted chain link and barbed wire. Mages had already freed a dozen captives. Now they had to destroy this nest so it never again posed a threat.
The ghouls were not only physically strong and magically gifted but able to siphon magic or even life energy from their foes. Mages who fell in battle could become dinner or, if not mortally wounded, breeding stock.
Next to the drama of that, the bandaging and magical treatment of wounded deputy reeves paled. Rick could write a good story about that, but he knew damned well it wouldn't help Stan fight for a bigger slice of the budget pie.
"They said this was a small nest," Rick reminded Jason, "no more than about twenty ghouls. There're a lot more than that out here. I'm ramping up the shield."
The mages were fortunate that ghoul temperament was too volatile for them to stick to a plan or work together efficiently.
Jason replied, "I'll beef up the screen. Getting seen would be almost worse than getting blasted."
"Only in your universe," Rick muttered.
Having the mage forces catch them in the battle zone would lead to an ass-chewing and maybe cost Rick his chance to develop some deputy reeve sources for his story on Dare. It was survivable, though. So was a partly deflected blast of ghoul magic. Ghoul talons to the throat, not so much.
"I can smell that raise I'm bucking for," Jason shouted in Rick's ear, his fingers moving on the camera's controls.
Rick nodded, watching a knot of mages and ghouls struggle. So far the mages were winning, if the number of ghoul corpses turning green and stinking of ammonia around the area was any indication.
A sudden inrush of ghouls–six–no, nine–shit, even more–scattered a knot of five mages. Separated, double-and-triple-teamed, the mages fell back. The two nearest him staggered. One fell.
Under attack, the fallen mage's companion retreated, battling. That left three ghouls on the guy who was down. He'd shielded but was pinned by a blaze of energy blasts.
Fuck. Get up, Rick thought.
The mage's sword blazed with silver energy, but he couldn't get clearance to find his feet.
Rick tightened his grip on the cudgel. Exposure would blow his shot at gaining some sources, but abandoning a fellow mage would mean a lifetime of guilt.
He squeezed Jason's shoulder. When the photographer looked up from his viewfinder, Rick shouted, "Go back. I'm lending a hand here."
Jason nodded. Translocation within a battle zone was dangerous because shielding didn't survive the location shift, but Jason should be safe flashing back to the staging area.
Rick turned to the fight. The outnumbered mage was enclosed in a defensive shield the ghouls battered with energy blasts.
Drawing the cudgel back, Rick stepped clear of the screen. He fed power into the crude weapon and swung it like a baseball bat. His strike drove through the ghoul's shields. The male staggered backward, eyes glazing.
Rick slammed the cudgel's broad end against the male's chest. "Morere," he shouted, pouring power into the magical command to die, ramming it through the cudgel and into the ghoul's chest.
Its eyes blanked. It collapsed.
Dead, judging by the way it instantly turned bilious green. The sudden, noxious stink of ammonia filled the air. Rick's stomach gave an odd little lurch. He'd never killed anything before. He swallowed hard and turned to the mage he'd come to help.
The guy had gained his feet but bore an ugly burn down his left side. Still, silver energy glowed around his sword. He drove it through a big ghoul's shields for a lethal strike.
Magic smashed into the back of Rick's personal shield. He dropped to his knees. Instinct sent him diving left, rolling, as a fist-wide bolt of ghoul magic blasted a furrow into the turf and pine needles where he'd been.
On his back, he blasted green magic from the cudgel's end. The other mage sent a silver bolt ripping from his blade. His blast and Rick's struck the ghoul together, obliterating its shield and incinerating the big male.
Rick leaped to his feet. The wounded mage pressed a hand to his side and ground out, "Thanks."
Before Rick could reply, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to face Harry Parker, the strike force leader. The mage who'd talked the shire reeve into restricting Rick and Jason to the rear. Shit.
"You're with me," Parker shouted. Looking beyond Rick, he added, "Both of you. Shift yourselves back to the helos. Right fucking now."
Jason must've stayed, too. Now both of their butts were in the wringer.
Visualizing the helos, Rick reached for the space between life and death and fed power into it. Reality lurched sideways in a flash of biting cold.
An instant later, the world came back. Rick stood facing Parker, with Jason at Rick's back, as they'd been among the trees.
Parker pushed up his safety goggles. Scowling, he said, "You two had clearance for this area only."
Jason stepped forward. "Rick saved that guy."
"We all appreciate it," the stocky, fortyish mage answered, "but you shouldn't have been out there."
"Neither," Rick said, "should so many ghouls. There were more than you expected, weren't there?"
A flicker in Parker's eyes confirmed the guess, but the deputy reeve shook his head. "Battle is always fluid, and that is absolutely, if you value your ass, not to be quoted. You two exceeded your clearance. I'm recommending that Shire Reeve Banning call your editor and kill this story. Otherwise, every reporter will want to try that same damn-fool stunt."
"There's only MageWire.com and MageNews.net," Jason said. "And MageNews barely has a staff. Not like you're flooded with reporters."
Parker's expression hardened. "We can't be watching out for journalists when we're trying to fight a war. Now you stay here unless you want to spend tonight in the Collegium jail."
He turned on his heel.
Rick tightened his lips and watched the deputy reeve stalk toward the medics. Fuck.
Stan would be pissed if he had to trek from north Atlanta to the Collegium to bail them out. Not because they'd broken the rules but because they'd gotten caught.
The Southeast Collegium looked like the research institute its Mundane neighbors thought it was, but its granite walls concealed governmental and educational facilities for the region. Those facilities included the shire reeve's department, complete with arsenal, helicopters, and training gyms.
And a no-frills, escape-proof jail.
"I'm sorry, man," Jason said quietly. "I thought we had it going, those first few minutes."
"We did. But I couldn't let those ghouls kill a mage. Sorry you can't use your photos."
"The boss might be able to convince the shire reeve we should run them anyway."
"Unlikely. She's new and needs the loyalty of her officers more than she needs us. She'll do what Parker wants." Clipping the cudgel to its hook on his belt, Rick shook his head. "Besides, she probably agrees with him."
Glumly, they watched mages walk between the h
elos. At least there weren't many wounded.
"What're you gonna do now?" Jason said.
"What we always do, keep digging."
"I guess that means you and the Dare girl."
Rick shrugged.
After a moment, Jason added, "You can't blame the Dares for stonewalling. Hell, maybe they think he's guilty."
"Then why not say so and get themselves out from under the stigma of his treason?" Rick shook his head. "No, I'm betting they'd stand with him if he gave them the chance. They probably know why he did it. I figure they've helped him all these years. How else has he avoided capture?"
"Being deadly with his quarterstaff, maybe." Jason rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I heard a rumor that some ghoul nests are turning up destroyed, and not by deputy reeves. Some people think Dare's behind that."
"He's become our universal bogeyman. Odd to think he might get credit for something. Or maybe he just turned on his ghoul allies." Rick pushed his safety goggles up to wipe sweat off the bridge of his nose. "If it's true, it's an interesting wrinkle."
It didn't change anything, though.
#
Caro's phone blared the theme from Raiders of the Lost Ark, the ringtone she'd assigned to Will. She wrinkled her nose. She'd been expecting to hear from him. Seated at her loom, she snagged the phone from the table at her right and tapped the screen to take the call. "Hey, Geek."
"Good morning, Shrimp. I'm about to log into work, but I thought I'd see how you're feeling. Have you read McCree's retraction?"
"First thing. It was very satisfying."
"Damned right." Will paused. "So who's this guy Moore you've been hanging with?"
"He's a writer–novels and some freelance features and PR. I met him at the gallery show."
"Yeah. The two of you looked real cozy yesterday." Before she could ask what he meant by that, he continued, "I put the guy into Google, so you know–"
"Will, you didn't!"
"Of course I did. A writer hanging around? We can't be too careful. Besides, we don't know anything about him."
"Belinda vouched for him, just by the way, and I ran a search, too, before I spent any time with him. I'm not stupid, Will. Or, I hope, naïve."
After a moment, he spoke softly. "No, I think you left naïve behind a few years back."
Like three.
"Griff would expect me to look out for you," Will told her.
How could she be pissed about that? Caro sighed. "That's sweet, but I've got it handled."
Silence from Will was a bad sign.
Frowning, she added, "I mean it, William. I don't want to hear about you engineering any casual little chats with him. Or shadowing him."
It wasn't like she planned to marry the guy. This was just fun, just for a while. "I need everybody to back off a step and let me take charge of my own life."
"I guess you do," he admitted. "I know Stuart and Lara have tended to hover since...well, for the past few years."
"Longer than that. I let them, but I need to make my own way now. So you stand down. Got me?"
"Yeah." Grudgingly, he added, "I get it, Shrimp. But you call me if he puts a toe out of line."
"I promise." But only if she didn't manage to stomp any intrusive toes on her own. Of course she had qualms, but Rick had been so supportive, so helpful. What was the harm in enjoying his company for a while?
"I gotta go," Will said. "We have third-graders coming into the archives this morning, and I need another couple of jolts of caffeine to keep up with them."
"Good luck with that."
"Thanks. And remember, you can always call me."
They disconnected. Caro gently laid her hand on the silk she was weaving. The varied blues of the abstract ocean pattern didn't draw her in the way they would've moments before.
Will had been overprotective ever since Griff vanished, but he had a point. She'd been with other decent, appealing guys who'd turned out to have agendas. She would have to be sure where she stood with Rick, not let things move too quickly, like she had before.
Live and learn was all well and good, but it wasn't much help unless you acted on what you learned.
#
The deputies were filtering back into the clearing. One, a slender woman, stopped near Rick and Jason. She faced the woods, but her brown eyes flicked toward them, then away.
Rick and Jason exchanged a glance. Idly shooting, Jason meandered toward the medical helo. Rick crossed his arms and watched Jason. Now they would see whether she wanted to talk to one of them.
After a moment, she strolled toward Rick. He thought she would walk past him, but she paused. "Thanks for what you did out there, stepping in to save Roberts. It took guts. None of us thought a reporter would risk his ass for a reeve."
Rick nodded his appreciation. "It was the right thing to do." But her words didn't explain the uncertainty lurking in the depths of her eyes.
She pulled off her helmet, revealing short, sweat-matted, brown hair. Running a hand through it, she glanced uneasily at him. "Go grab us a bottle of water each, would you?"
He complied. When he returned, she was sitting under a tree. "Open it for me. If anyone asks, you're hitting on me."
"Okay." He opened the bottle and handed it to her, hunkering down beside her at a polite distance. "Why am I picking this very unromantic moment to hit on you?"
She took a deep breath and blew it out, then gulped a big swallow of water. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she said, "When I reported this three years ago, nobody cared. It still bothers me, though."
Three years ago? As in, when Griffin Dare went rogue? "I'm listening."
"What you did out there makes me think maybe I can trust you. That you'll maybe act on this at some point. You quote me, though, and I'll hunt you down." She shot him a flirty look through her eyelashes and took another gulp.
Rick grinned for the benefit of any onlookers. "We're off the record officially. I won't even mention you. Wouldn't, even if I knew your name."
Flashing a twinkly smile at him, she quietly said, "I was on the last raid Griffin Dare led. I was hurt, half out of it, when I overheard him and Corin Jacobs talking by the medical helo door."
Corin Jacobs had been Dare's close friend and chief deputy, then his replacement as shire reeve, and finally his victim. "Go on," Rick said softly. He sipped water, watching her.
Despite her smile, she looked haunted. "I don't think they meant anyone to hear, but they were rocked. We all were."
"Because of the casualties," he said softly. The losses that day had been staggering.
She flicked him a glance in confirmation. "I'd never seen Dare look rattled, but that day, he was in shock."
Rick waited, sipping water and watching the deputy reeves straggle back into the clearing.
"Here's the thing," she continued, her smile a painful contrast to her grim report. "They were saying how no one but the two of them and the Council knew the destination of that strike force. Yet the nest had more than twice as many ghouls as it should've."
"I read the report," he told her. The smile on his face felt vile when they discussed such a tragedy. And wasn't it interesting that there were more ghouls than expected present today, too?
"They were sure we'd been betrayed," she murmured. "Then they walked away. The doors were shut, the helos started up, and I couldn't hear anything else."
Thoughtfully, he said, "The official version is that Dare betrayed you all and killed Milt Althor, the Chief Councilor, to cover his tracks."
She shook her head. "Nobody who fought beside him buys that, not really. Not that there are many of us left." With a grimace, she added, "He just wouldn't. Besides, smart as he was, if he'd betrayed us, there would've been nothing to point to it."
There actually had been nothing to point to such a thing, not until Dare had blown Althor away. But she'd given Rick something to think about.
"Why are you telling me this?" Rick smiled and winked at her to maintain the illusion of flirting bef
ore he took a sip of his water.
"Dare saved my life once," she said, pushing to her feet. "Let's just call it payback. And now we'll call this you striking out."
As the exhausted deputy walked toward a helo, Rick considered what she'd said. He'd thought this trip was a bust, but she'd given him an important tip. If she was telling the truth, many of Dare's surviving deputies didn't buy the party line.
What if Griffin Dare had been right about Althor?
That wouldn't excuse the way he'd handled things, the people who'd died as a result, but still...what if Dare had been right and all the official accounts were wrong?
Chapter Eight
I should never have agreed to this. The thought kept running through Caro's head as Rick drove toward the roadhouse the night after her demonstration. Her stomach was in knots, and her breath seemed to hitch somewhere behind her breastbone. A club in the city was bad enough, but a roadhouse...didn't that imply rowdy people? Bad music?
Or were her horizons really too narrow, as Jerald had claimed? Being an ass in general didn't make him always wrong. Besides, she liked Rick, and she wanted to share the things he enjoyed.
"This'll be fine, Sunshine." Rick's hand covered hers in her lap. He let her feel his sincerity. "If it isn't, we're out of here. I promise."
"You probably think I'm a weenie," she blurted.
"No way." When he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, awareness of him zinged through her, raising bubbles of desire deep in her belly.
He added, "One thing I've learned from being around you just this little while is the importance of organization. You know how to get to the coffee shop and back. How to move around the gallery. But you use your cane for that. If you couldn't, how would you know where you were?"
"You do understand." The surprise and pleasure of that welled up in her throat and made her smile.
"Don't sound so shocked." His cheerful tone implied he was grinning. So did the light, teasing vibe she sensed through his touch.
He linked their fingers and raised her hand to his lips. The kiss he pressed on the back of it shot heat up her arm. Caro's fingers tightened on Rick's.
Sentinel: A Light Mage Wars Novella (The Light Mage Wars) Page 7