When she woke, it was to a darkened sky and the sight of the barrier only feet from her window. A shimmering translucent blue, it lit up the truck’s interior and cast a vibrant light across Mason’s face, highlighting his strong jaw and the straight slope of his nose. A stirring in her core built, and she shifted restlessly. Her movements drew Mason’s gaze, and he gave a slight smile. Her heart ached at how easy it was for her to see something in his eyes other than the vast emptiness.
She turned away from him and stared out at the shield. Behind the thin barrier, there were ravagers, hungry for flesh. The truck was moving too fast to see them, but the flares of deep-blue light indicated the contact of their bodies against the barrier.
“How many do you think are out there?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“Hundreds, maybe thousands,” he answered.
It had been nearly thirty years since Anchorage had fallen to a breach. The changing of the Regent was always a dangerous time, more so this far from the Capitol. When the old Regent died and the new one took over, their new barrier was usually in place, waiting beneath the earth. The old barrier would erode from the bottom up, the jagged pieces of magic falling to the ground, providing a weapon against the ravagers who dared attempt to cross while the new one rose from the earth. Tank guards and Mages would be stationed along the perimeter. It took mere minutes for the switch to be completed, but there was always potential for disaster.
What went wrong in Anchorage was left to rumors and speculation, but within hours, it left over four million people dead. It was the largest loss of life to a ravager attack since the shield went up. Now it was home only to the Tank force that remained. Not that the ravagers noticed the lack of life. They were drawn by sense memory.
“We're only about a hundred miles from the ruins,” he said. “We should be there in an hour or so.”
“I thought we were waiting for morning,” she said.
Mason shrugged. “I’m not going to be able to sleep this close to those things, so we may as well be on the move.”
The road curved away and began a long arch around to the bridge linking this side of the point to Anchorage. Even as the distance between them and the barrier grew, flares of light continued to travel up the shield, lighting up the night. Elora had never seen anything like it. The ravagers around Ironshore rarely bothered to test the shield. This was relentless, almost as if they thought they could get through.
They reached the edge of what had once been the Anchorage Tank Base, only a mile or so from the perimeter. Mason slowed them to a stop and turned off the headlights.
“There’s movement at the Station House,” he said and leaned forward, squinting.
Elora mimicked him, trying to see through the darkness. It took her a few seconds to spot the guards streaming out of the large building. For a moment, she fooled herself into thinking they hadn’t been seen, that even if they had, the guards wouldn’t suspect them to be anyone other than stray travelers.
It was a moment short lived. The group of guards turned toward them, fanning out across the rut-filled road. One familiar face stood out.
She shouldn’t have been surprised that Gregory would send Nick. He knew Mason well enough to be able to predict his actions, could take him in hand to hand, and perhaps, most importantly, he’d take Mason out if he had to.
“Get out of the truck, Mason,” Nick called out as he shouldered his buckshot bolt.
“Fucking hell,” Mason muttered.
“What are we going to do?” Elora glanced from Nick to Mason then back again.
Mason’s knuckles turned white as he continued to grip the steering wheel. His fingers flexed, and he let go.
“Get out, but move slowly,” he said. “You’ve got a good chance that they’ll take you alive.”
She grabbed his arm. “What about you?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” He turned off the engine then reached over and shoved the keys into her bra.
“What are you doing?” She reached into her shirt, but he grabbed her hand.
“They won’t search you. This way, if you manage to escape, you’ll have transportation.”
“I don’t know how to drive,” she said.
“You’ll figure it out, or not. At least you’ll have a shot.” He opened the door and stuck his hands through the opening, then climbed out.
Elora attempted the same move but her legs were too short, and as she slid to the ground, she grasped the door frame to keep from falling over. Neither of them had time to move or say anything before the guards were on them. Mason was cuffed, and then the two of them were pushed in the direction of the Station House.
Under her breath, Elora whispered the compulsion incantation, but none of the guards reacted.
“We didn’t do anything wrong,” she protested as Nick led the group inside.
Nick snorted. “You violated a direct order from the Dealer, and Mason abetted you. Add to that the attempted murder of a guard. All are punishable by death.”
“He was just following Luce’s orders.”
“Luce ordered him to apprehend and return you to the Dealer.”
“But—"
“He’s right,” Mason said, cutting her off. “As my commanding officer, Luce gave me a direct order in line with the directives of the Dealer.”
Elora pressed her lips together. She held no fondness for the other woman, but if Mason refused to turn on Luce, then she’d follow his lead. It wouldn’t have made a difference to their fate. All it would have done was put Luce in front of the firing squad along with them.
Inside the Station House, Nick shoved Mason into the jail cell and then pushed a chair toward Elora. She glanced at it warily before sitting.
“I’ve got it from here,” Nick said to the other guards and wrapped the shoulder strap of his buckshot bolt over the corner of his chair.
“You sure?” one of them asked.
“Yeah. I’m going to process her and get ready to transport them.”
When the men had left, Nick slouched back in his chair, swiveling it around to face Mason.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he demanded. With his back to Elora, she couldn’t see his face, but his voice rang with utterly confused amusement.
“I had an opportunity. I took it,” Mason replied.
“But this is fucked up. You know that, right? I have orders to take you before the Council.”
“I know.”
“How the fuck did you think the two of you were gonna to get all the way to the Capitol without getting caught?” Nick asked.
“Hoping for a bit of luck, I guess,” Mason replied.
Elora’s eyes met Mason’s and read the silent warning there. He might be sitting in that cell, the picture of compliance, but he was holding onto the chance that they might get out of this alive, and if they did, he didn’t want Nick knowing about Juki and the Underworld.
“Hell, boy. I figured you were smart enough to know that luck and you ain’t seen eye-to-eye in a good long while.”
“How did you get here so quickly?” Mason asked.
Nick relayed the story of Tina and Luce returning to Ironshore, and as he spoke, Elora sat staring at the back of his head. Covered with long straggly hair, it bobbed and weaved with his words. Completely vulnerable.
She glanced around the desk that separated them, and her eyes locked on an Inuksuk paperweight. Keeping her gaze on Nick, she inched her hand across the desk, until she could grasp the stone statue. She adjusted her grip then drew her arm back. Swinging as hard as she could, she smashed it against the back of Nick’s head.
There was a stunned pause when she thought he’d simply fall over, but he didn’t. He started to turn around, and she hit him again, catching him on his temple. This time, he slumped over the side of his chair and collapsed to the floor.
She stared at his limp body, horrified at how dead he looked. What kind of a person was she becoming that she hadn’t even hesitated to hit him and pos
sibly kill him?
12
“Elora,” Mason called, snapping her out of her revere. “Grab the keys from his pocket.”
She went around the desk and knelt beside Nick. Gingerly, she dug into the pocket and pulled out the keys. She stood and rushed to the cell door, her fingers shaking so badly, Mason reached through, taking them from her.
He looked through the keys, inspecting them for some sort of marking. Finding the one he was looking for, he angled his hand through the bars and unlocked the door. He grabbed the buckshot bolt from where it rested beside the desk.
“Let’s go.”
He slid his hand around hers and pulled her toward the entrance. He edged it open just enough to look through, then a gust of wind ripped it from his hand and flung it wide. There was a long high-pitched sound, followed by a series of shorter ones. He could hear yelling down the road, and watched as guards raced toward the beastly cries.
A lightning streak of blue traveled up through the sky, exploding as it reached the top of the shield. The shrieks of ravagers tore through the air, immediately followed by the sound of buckshot bolts.
“What’s going on?” Her voice trembled as she looked up at Mason.
“The ravagers broke through.”
He wondered if she was going to faint. Her eyes opened wide and the pink flush the cold brought to her cheeks stood out starkly against the sudden pallor that came over her.
She took a step back inside. But he wasn’t about to miss their opportunity to escape. He grabbed her and dragged her behind him onto the street. She trembled, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. He needed her with him, not cowering in fear and slowing him down.
They scooted around the edge of the building and pressed against the rough brick exterior. It was a tight space of only a couple feet between it and the neighboring building but was perfect for concealing them from the guards.
“Can we get to the truck?” Elora asked.
Poking his head out, he glanced up and down the street. Flashes of red in the distance lit up the dark sky. The street was clear. The few guards he saw were running away from the Station House and Tank barracks, most likely converging on the breached section of the shield.
He itched to join the fight. Killing ravagers and protecting the Sector were his life, but staying meant inevitable execution and his sense of duty didn’t outweigh his natural instincts for self-preservation.
“It’s clear, but move fast and stay low.”
He started to pull his hand from hers, but her fingers tightened, refusing to let him go.
“I’m ready,” she said.
He led the way around the next few buildings and then they ducked into the recessed entryway of a deserted grocery store. The truck was only half a block away, but between them, there was nothing but rubble and a few large chunks of concrete, the remnants of what had been the heart of the base.
When it was overrun by ravagers, the new Regent had been forced to destroy the entire city. Clean up had begun a few years later, the crews tasked first with clearing the largest debris, but the ravagers' continued presence at the shield had ultimately led the Council to abandon the reconstruction efforts. There were few options for taking cover.
Mason checked the buckshot bolt, reassuring himself it was charged. It only had one load, which, considering it was Nick’s, didn’t surprise him. He didn’t like the idea of only having the one weapon, especially someone else’s, but he’d make do. He could take on man or ravager in hand to hand combat. Elora was a different matter.
He looked down at the top of her head. There were long curls swirling around in the wind having come loose from the messy bun she’d made of her hair. She was oblivious, focused on searching the road for any sign of movement. The ravagers would tear her apart in seconds, and the guards would simply shoot her with no remorse for someone they saw as a traitor.
Mason’s stomach knotted at the idea of her dying. He wouldn’t describe it as dread or fear, but it was some kind of emotion, and he struggled to process it. He’d experienced mild amusement and even discomfort in the years since Niobe took his soul, but not anything like this.
She tipped her face up to his, and he caught himself remembering how she’d looked so trustingly up at him that morning when she’d been wrapped in his arms.
“Stay close.”
She nodded, and he pulled his hand from hers, not liking the distraction of the sensations she set off in him.
“We're gonna run,” he said. With a last scan of the street, he nudged her out of their hiding spot. “Go!”
Half a block hadn’t seemed too far when he’d only been considering his own speed. What he hadn’t accounted for was Elora and the long skirt she wore that hindered her movements in the deep, unpacked snow. He switched the bolt to his other hand and grabbed her arm, pulling her along while also keeping her upright.
They’d almost made it when a ravager came running out from an alley at the end of the street. Lack of vision had never slowed the beasts down, and its head turned toward them as it found their scent on the wind.
“Keep going!” he ordered Elora when she tried to stop.
He fell to one knee and lifted the bolt. He tried to line up the shot, but the ravager was already running, skittering to the left then the right in a crooked and fierce path. Letting out a deep breath, Mason pulled the trigger. The bolt went wide of the beast, hitting a crumbling stone wall behind it. The explosion sent rocks and dust flying through the smoky air. In the flash of light, Mason saw the ravager fall before it got back on its feet. This time, its path was straight as it headed toward him.
He got to his feet and ran. Elora had reached the truck and was struggling to find the keys from inside her bra. They weren’t going to make it. The realization sent him running past Elora and charging toward the ravager.
Moving on all fours, the ravager sprinted the last few yards and then lunged through the air. Mason braced for impact, but it never came. Mid-flight, the ravager was hit by a spiraling stream of light that pulled a dark gray substance from it. The stream ended abruptly, and the ravager fell to the ground dazed. As it attempted to stand, a glowing black stream hit it again, holding it in place. A piercing scream erupted from the beast as it withered and arched its back until it suddenly exploded.
Bits of ravager flew everywhere, and Mason lifted an arm to shield his face from the worst of it. When the innards had settled on the ground, painting the snow with red and black spots, he turned around.
Elora stood there holding the aura spear, its bulbous end still glowing with a swirling mix of black and white light. There was a stunned look on her face that slowly gave way to disgust as she took in the blood and guts that covered him.
“Get in,” he said as he moved quickly around to the driver’s side.
She took out the keys and unlocked the doors. Before hopping in, he scooped up some snow and rubbed his hands and face, then took off his blood-covered jacket and threw it into the back.
“Mason!” Nick’s voice called out.
Mason stared at his fellow guard running down the street. Armed with a buckshot bolt, Nick had been a force, but with his empty bolt now lying on the ground a hundred feet away, Mason dismissed any threat.
He got in and slammed the truck door shut. He started the vehicle and drove toward Nick. As they passed by, Nick reached out and slammed his hands against the side of the truck. The thumping sound startled Elora who swiveled in her seat to stare at Nick who disappeared into the dark snowstorm.
“That was close,” she said. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“What do you mean?” He flicked on the wipers, sweeping away the snow that had only just begun to fall then took a quick peek at her and caught her glaring at him, her green eyes flashing.
“Charging at that ravager. Do you have a death wish?”
“If I did, I would’ve stuck around and let Nick take me back to the Dealer.”
She started to say something, but they h
it a rut, and she bounced in her seat, smacking her head against the window. She pressed her hand to her head and muttered something under her breath. A faint green glow pulsed beneath her hand, then vanished when she let go.
Healing magic was a rare power, and while he’d known she was gifted, he also knew her training had been limited, and it didn’t account for the other things he’d seen her do.
“The magic you're using is old,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen most of these spells used.”
She shrugged and gazed out the window. “I told you, the compulsion spell was from Tina’s journal. Which didn’t even work on the guards.”
“Each piece of Tank armor is infused with vervain which protects against magic. And that doesn’t explain all of the other spells you’ve used. Healing, fire, the one you used to dry off after the ice bridge collapsed.”
A gentle sighed escaped her, and he heard her reluctance to discuss it, but finally she said, “I don’t know. Some is from what my grandmother and Tina taught me, maybe some of it was from spending all those years watching and listening to Niobe. The rest ... just comes to me.”
Mason didn’t point out how unusual that was; he could tell she already knew it wasn’t natural.
“How far are we going to go?” she asked, changing the subject.
“As far as we can. We’ll need to stop before the truck’s power store runs out. This storm is rolling in fast, and it’s going to hit hard. It’ll cover our tracks, but I want the truck charged in case they manage to find us.”
“We should find a Regent sigil to get us as close to Juki as possible,” she suggested.
He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. When it came away stained red with the blood of the ravager, he wiped it on his clean shirt.
“They’ll be expecting that, just like they’ll anticipate us to head north to Fairbanks or Dawson City. Pretty much any roadway is going to be watched.”
“So then where do we go?”
“We’ll find a place to lay low for a couple weeks.”
Winter Souls: an Adult Paranormal Witch Romance: Sector 10 (The Othala Witch Collection) Page 12