“Are you winding me up? Blast a hole through him?” The firebrand’s eyes couldn’t have stretched open any wider.
The figure across from him pounded his chest and gestured for Bryce to bring on his attack, taunting and daring him to try.
“What…? What is it? A sprite? Or um…” he snapped his fingers as he struggled to reclaim the word from memory. “An elemental?”
“You can’t hurt him, but he could hurt you.” Not clarifying more than that. If the lad believed the figure was alive, all the better to hone his focus to a deadly edge. Donovan pointed him toward his opponent. “One shot, Bryce. Blast him!”
The lad wound up a throw like a cricket player and pitched a flaming ball at the figure. It smashed into his chest, not even knocking him momentarily off balance. The figure brushed off the scorch mark, the slight depression in the chest reformed as it had been before. “Brutal,” Bryce griped under his breath.
“Brutal is what your enemies will be if they overpower you, for they shan’t stand idle awaiting your next strike.” And with Donovan’s words, the rock elf-man stalked toward Bryce, raising a fist to strike.
The lad fled backward, flinging his fireballs as rapidly as he could, losing strength in exchange for speed. His opponent didn’t even flinch, but continued forward as rapidly as Bryce retreated. Donovan barked at him, “Build your power then throw it, else learn to run faster than that!” The figure broke into a charge.
Bryce’s outcry was a mingle of fear and effort. He stopped fleeing, instead gathering a great flame between his palms. Just before the figure leapt forth to tackle him, Bryce hurled the cannonball of fire, knocking the form backward through the air and battering away chunks of its body. It flew back and smashed into the ground where it shattered like ice.
The earthborns gave up a cheer. Donovan turned to them. “You see how it’s done. Now get to it!”
A fresh elf man formed of sediment rose up where the other had fallen, coming once more for Bryce. The other four figures paired off with the earthborns as they stepped forward. Only Dawn hesitated, embracing herself. “I respect what you are doing here, but as a healer, inflicting physical damage is against my nature.”
He swept her with his gaze. How like a skittish doe she seemed. An easy victim for those with no mercy for the timid. “Do you think the wizards will care that you were a healer when they harvest your organs for their magicraft? How hard will the vampires laugh when you tell them not to drain your blood because you’re a pacifist?” When she paled at the questions, he added, “Your power could manipulate flesh in ways you’ve not even begun to imagine.”
The shine of trepidation in her eyes proved what he’d already suspected. She well knew she could wield such power. And feared it.
Soon enough he’d press her on this matter. For the moment, he set her at ease. “But these stone golems have no flesh to manipulate, so you better come up with another strategy.” He grabbed a quarterstaff from the arsenal displayed on the wall and tossed it to her. She caught it from the air. At least the healer possessed reflexes enough to train as a fighter.
Because Donovan controlled all of the figures, he knew why Trip screamed even before she did so. One of the elves detained her in an unrelenting embrace. Although the golem wouldn’t release her, Donovan knew exactly how much strength to use. The figures wouldn’t go easy on any of the youths, but also wouldn’t cause more than superficial injury if they prevailed.
Raising his voice for them all to hear, Donovan called out to her. “Don’t underestimate your magic. Think creatively. You’re capable of more than you imagine. And don’t ignore the common magics. Glamour and teleportation are powerful tools.”
Picking up on his cue, Trip teleported away from her captor. She reappeared behind Donovan. “Bloody lot of good shadows can do.”
“Your shadows are more than just the absence of light. They are the manifestation of pure dark magic. It has a mass. You can make it solid.” Even as Trip remained cowered behind him, the elf form charged for her. At the last moment Donovan sidestepped, allowing the elf to fly past him and tackle Trip.
As the body landed on top of her, she screamed. The sound cut off abruptly as she vanished once more, only to pick up again from across the room when she reappeared. Off the figure ran, chasing after her again. Shadows coiled up and around the figure, but nothing solidified to resist his pursuit. Trip teleported around the room, hopscotching away from the foe she couldn’t figure any other way to combat.
Donovan shook his head. Teleporting rapidly was a good practice, but at an enormous expense of energy. She wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long.
Next he turned toward Malcolm, who wailed on the golem before him so wildly that Donovan was amazed the boy hasn’t cut off his own ear, or nose, or other such extremity. The boy possessed far more fury than skill. “Stop slashing across the ribcage.” He caught Malcolm’s wrist, holding him fast. “You’re only going to glance off the bone. Superficial damage at best. Make deadly blows. Anything less is a waste of energy.””
The golem ceased its aggression as Donovan directed the lad’s movements. “If you’re going to slash, cut across the major arteries. Here.” He guided Malcolm through precise cuts across the wrists and throat, which opened gashes on the soft surface of the stone figure wherever the blade penetrated. “If given the opportunity, a slice across the vulnerable sides of a joint is debilitating. Back of the knee, back of the ankle, inside of the elbow.
“Easier to just spill their entrails.” Donovan brought Malcolm through a blow across the figure’s abdomen. “Or simply stab up under the ribs.” He thrust the knife upward, beneath the simulated ribcage and burying the blade to the hilt. “Impales the lung and the heart, ending the battle in one strike.”
Stepping back, Donovan watched as the elf-like construct healed the artificial wounds that he’d given it. When the elf attacked once more, Malcolm imitated the moves Donovan had shown him with much more accuracy and control. “Widen your stance.” The boy complied, getting even better balance in his movements.
Donovan surveyed each of the Sidhe in turn. Kieran with his concentrated vibrations and Bryce with his flames both managed to knock chunks off their opponents. Dawn wasn’t strong enough to do that kind of damage, but she beat at the figure with the quarterstaff whenever it came at her. Her magic stamina spent, Trip fell back to the run and dodge strategy, circling Bryce and Kieran in the hopes that their more deadly magic might better defend her than her own. Over and over she attempted a more solid mass of darkness, but to no avail.
As Donovan circled, monitoring the sparring sessions, he spoke. “The human who escaped is your responsibility. Eliminating her is your mission. Debrief with Kieran for details on her possible allies and tactics. Any one of you is fully capable of bringing down a human. As a team, you should easily succeed.” The earthborns hesitated as they processed this announcement, then returned to their opponents with renewed energy. “You’ll do that on your own time. There are more immediate threats that can’t wait for you to master yourselves. Tomorrow night, we wrangle nightmares.”
But tonight… Tonight he’d see them all exert themselves to exhaustion before he’d let them rest. The threats against them were mounting. Hunting them. This human was but the first. When her vampire and werewolf allies sniffed out the Glamour Club, the earthborns had better be ready to defend it.
Chapter Six
The next morning Kieran edged himself onto the barstool next to Malcolm with a groan. “Oh, geez. I hurt. I hurt everywhere.” He folded his arms on the bar and dropped his forehead onto them. “Can’t move.”
“Good.” Malcolm grumbled, not glancing up from his sketchbook. The more he’d thought about it, the more certain he was. The magic on the human. The way she strutted in here, holding Kieran’s hand. The way Kieran told her to run, but made it sound like a smart aleck remark. No doubt about it. Kieran’s overheated sex drive had fried his brains.
“Your sympathy is
underwhelming.” Kieran rolled his head to the side, glancing at the sketch. “That’s a handsome looking kangaroo.”
“Kangaroo? How do you even see a kangaroo?”
Kieran pointed. “The long tail. Big feet. The joey in a pouch.”
Malcolm tore off the page. “It’s not a kangaroo.” He wadded it up and threw it at Kieran, who flinched so the paper hit him in the shoulder instead of the head. Donovan had told Malcolm to draw what he could see, like that did anybody any good. He couldn’t even teleport or do Glamour like most everybody else. Maybe he’d never learn to do it. And that was just one more reason to be ticked off at Kieran, who had loads of magic but didn’t use it when he should have. At Kieran’s big, cheeky grin, Malcolm said, “I’ll draw you next, so it’ll look like an ass.”
“What? Why are you all hating on me today? I had a flipping rough day yesterday and you’re riding my rump and not even in a fun way.”
Malcolm tossed down his pencil. “Why’d you bring that human here?”
“I couldn’t just let her go, now could I? She’s dangerous.”
“You should have just killed her.”
“Well, I know that now.” Pushing himself up, Kieran accepted a bottle from the bartender. “She’s enchanted, you know? All hot for the Touch. So I figured maybe Donovan’d know what to do with her. Maybe control her somehow. Get her straightened up, you know? Like, wasn’t that the deal with the druids back in the day? The Touch kept them in line. Made them work for the Sidhe.”
“So that’s why you jammed your tongue down her throat?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You kissed her, you perv!”
Kieran’s smirk was a dead giveaway. “How’d you figure that?”
“Your magic was all over her face and in her mouth. You Touched her and you kissed her. How could you do that? With a human?” With a sudden thought, Malcolm gave a violent shiver of disgust. “Oh, nasty. Please, tell me it was just your tongue you stuck down her throat.”
“Malcolm, my lad, you’re a prude. Get over it.” Kieran grinned in the playboy way of his. “It was just a kiss. But it was different and kinda neat. I filled her up with my magic.” He shrugged, all nonchalant. “I liked it.”
“I’m not a prude! And that’s… It’s… disgusting! Kissing a human? It’s like kissing a corpse! They’re dead inside. No magic at all.”
“You,” Kieran poked Malcolm in the chest, “are a total prude. Have you ever even kissed before?”
“I’ve kissed.” Not sober, of course. Malcolm felt the flame of embarrassment burning his cheeks. Never kissed anyone because he’d wanted to, but Kieran didn’t know about any of that, and never would, as far as Malcolm was concerned.
‘Course Kieran didn’t just drop it. “I don’t mean like kissing your mum or your pet hamster. I’m talking a real life, wet ‘n sloppy kiss.”
Malcolm snatched up his pencil and bent over his sketchpad. “I’ve kissed loads of times.”
“Trip told me how you flipped out after she tried to kiss you.”
“Shut up.”
“No. See? Mal, you’ve got to get over this. It’s not healthy.” Kieran snatched Malcolm’s pencil. “Look, you just need to warm up to the idea. Maybe someone you could just kiss and not have to worry about the Touch, right? What you need is a girl with training wheels. Someone sweet.”
Malcolm tried to grab his pencil back, but Kieran jerked it out of reach. Laughing, he twisted around. “I know who would be perfect for your virgin kiss.” He grinned and nodded toward the fairy DJ on the stage running the mixing board. “Emma likes you. She’s nice to you, right? You like her, right?” His eyes sparkled as he nodded vehemently. “Go on. Lay a smooch on the lass. She won’t mind.”
“You’re an idiot.” Malcolm hunched over his paper, smudging the graphite with his finger.
“Come on, just one smooch and you’ll be past this hang-up of yours.” Kieran grabbed Malcolm by the shoulders, rotated the barstool he sat on until he faced the stage, and then gave him a friendly shove. “Go on now, man up and give the girl a kiss.”
Malcolm’s smashed his fists into the front pockets of his jeans as hard as he could. The belt was the only thing keeping the waistband from pushing past his hips. With his elbows locked straight, it made his shoulders hunch up to his ears, kinda protectively. Walking across the dance floor felt like a long trip, and yet it was over too quick because next thing he knew he was leaning against the table where the DJ’s mixing board was set up.
Most days Emma worked the DJ booth for a few hours. They’d talked a bit, now and again. She was always willing to play a mix for him when he wanted to bang around on the drums. Probably that’s what she figured he was up here for now. She smiled up at him with those sparkling green eyes that were too pretty to look at. So Malcolm glanced down at her chin. And then her neck. And then at the bit of her chest that the scooped neck of her shirt didn’t cover. And then at the tiny bit of cleavage that peeked out of the top of her shirt.
He tried to swallow, but didn’t have any spit. Tried to breathe, on accounta he’d forgotten about the whole breathing thing. Malcolm cut a look back over his shoulder. If Kieran wasn’t looking, he’d just up and chicken out.
Only Kieran was not only looking, he saluted Malcolm with his Guinness. Malcolm hunched his shoulders some more and turned back to Emma. She’d taken off her headset and it hung around her neck. He fixed his eyes there. Malcolm tried the breathing thing again, and then cleared his throat. “Um, Emma.”
She smiled and his gaze slid up to her mouth, to study the shape of it. She had a real nice smile. “What’s up?”
Malcolm shifted from his left foot to his right. And then back again. Why did talking have to be so hard? His licked his lips. Gave it a shot. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She was still smiling that smile. That inviting smile. In that I’d-never-laugh-at-you-on-accounta-we’re-friends kind of real niceness that she had.
He blew out a breath. No way he could really ask her what he meant to ask her. No way he could make the words come out. So Malcolm leaned in a little. Emma didn’t back away, and Malcolm waited a bit to make sure about that. Then he moved in again. She was shorter than him so he leaned down. Tilting his head so they didn’t bump noses, he softly pressed his lips to hers.
She kissed him back. Just as softly. Their lips kinda gave in to each other in a really neat way that made them feel like they fit together. Nothing weird about it. Nothing awkward. Not like this was his first honest-to-goodness, non-drug-trip kiss.
The feel of her magic was like cotton candy; a fluffy, tickling feeling on his face. She smelled like the sea. That peculiar smell that the beach had on sunny days that made you want to take in a deep breath.
Malcolm pulled back a little. He sucked in his lower lip and nibbled on it a little, still feeling that kiss and now tasting it, too. Looking down at Emma, he wondered what she thought about this random act of kissing. She seemed cool with it, still smiling. Malcolm knew the fey were casual about this kinda stuff. Folks kissed and hugged and shagged all the time and it wasn’t any great huge deal. Probably, Emma got kissed all the time. Probably, this wasn’t any big deal to her. So that made it ok to try something.
Malcolm pulled his hands out of his pockets. Carefully, ‘cause he wasn’t all that sure about what he was doing, he slipped his hands under her dark blond hair. His fingers curled around the back of her head, mostly to keep her steady as he leaned in again. Experimentally, his tongue brushed over her lower lip. Malcolm’s eyes widened at the taste, which was real different from the way her magic smelled. Her lips parted for him. Following the sweetness, he licked into her mouth. Her tongue glided against his.
Eyes closing, focusing on the sensations, Malcolm relaxed into the kiss. Into the moist depths of it. She tasted so nice, so different than he could’ve guessed, like hot chocolate after marshmallows melted in it. So sweet. She filled his senses with her magic. It was like
tasting her essence. Like he knew secrets about her now. Knew her in a whole different way than he could have known her before, even if they talked for hours and hours. His teeth grazed her lip a bit as they kissed this way. Kissed so deep, with her magic all filling his head, it was kinda like Touching, only not.
It was a bit, maybe six or seven breaths, before Malcolm finally pulled back. He licked his lips, tasting her lingering magic. Realizing his fingers still tangled in her hair, he drew back then scrubbed his palms nervously on his thighs. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
Her smile spread even wider. “Anytime.” And even though she played it off like it was no big deal and all that, her wings gave a little shiver.
Malcolm smirked to himself, jazzed to think he could be the cause of that shiver. He retreated a step, and then two. They kept grinning at each other, like they shared a secret, and he guessed they did. Leastwise, he knew secrets about her now. About her magic.
Finally, Malcolm eased back around and jogged with a bit of bounce up the few steps to the main floor and over to the bar where his Coke waited for him. He didn’t need to look right at Kieran to know the bloke was grinning like an idiot. Malcolm hopped onto the barstool.
“So?” Kieran nudged his shoulder against Malcolm’s as he leaned in. “What about it?”
Malcolm made Kieran wait while he took a swig of his Coke, which gave him a second to think up some words.
Chuckling, Kieran tilted back his bottle for a drink.
“She has a flavor.”
Kieran choked on his drink. The fit of coughing that followed lasted a full minute before he managed, “A flavor?”
Malcolm nodded, waiting until Kieran went to drink again before adding, “That’s why I went back for seconds.”
Just like in the movies, Kieran sprayed his mouthful of beer all over the bar. Malcolm couldn’t help but laugh at him. Kieran glanced over at Emma and then back at Malcolm. He shook his head. “You’re weird, Mal. Cool, but one weird bloke.”
Remnants of Magic (The Sidhe Collection (Urban Fantasy)) Page 7