Magic Triumphs

by Ilona Andrews

  A furry arm thrust out of the robe. Claws locked on Mr. Tucker’s windpipe, squeezed, and Mr. Tucker fell, his eyes shocked, a clump of his bloody flesh clenched in the creature’s claws. It happened fast, so fast; it only took a fraction of a second.

  Sarrat was already in my hand and I was moving.

  The twelve figures dropped their robes. White fabric flew, revealing bodies sheathed in short brown fur. They stood on two legs, hunching forward, their muscled arms dangling, each finger tipped with a claw. Their round heads leaned forward, their mouths wide slashes betraying yellow fangs. Big round eyes stared at me, cold and empty, like the eyes of an owl.

  A memory punched me, sharp and vivid, borrowed from my aunt. A room in an ancient palace, shrouded in veils, the body of a child, and an abomination that looked eerily like these chewing on the stump of my uncle’s neck.

  Curran shot past me and roared. The sound of his fury was like thunder. It punched the beasts. They screeched and cringed back in ragged unison.

  The world turned red. Every instinct in my head screamed. They’d killed one of my people. They were an abomination. A corruption. They had to be purged. Rage boiled inside me.

  The beasts rushed us.

  The first creature swiped at me, raking the air with its talons. I shied away from its claws and slashed at it. Sarrat sliced through flesh like it was butter, cleaving the beast’s chest. Blood splattered me, drenching me with foul magic.

  The beast screeched and swiped at me. I shied left, ducking, and cut across its outstretched arm, severing the extensors. The hand went limp. I thrust Sarrat into its side, puncturing the stomach and the liver, and freed the sword with a sharp tug. The beast dropped to its knees and surged back up. I buried Sarrat in its chest and kicked it off the blade. Tough bastards.

  A second creature tore at my back, the tips of its claws carving straight through reinforced leather into the skin. My back burned.

  I spun around, slicing in a frenzy, cut its jugular, spun around again, and severed the first beast’s spine as it tried to rise again. The second creature collapsed, blood pouring from its neck, and squirmed on the ground, raking at me with its claws. I beheaded it. Two down.

  A body flew, knocked out of my way. Curran tore through the creatures, snapping bones and ripping flesh, his hands clawed, but the rest of him still human.

  A third beast lunged at me. I dropped down, cut its femoral artery, and spun out of the way as it fell. It crawled toward me. I stomped on the back of its neck. Die, you damn bastard.

  The boy was still burning. Ash formed on his chest, but he was still smiling, his eyes tracking me. How the hell was he still alive?

  Behind me a sharp lupine snarl cut through the air. Derek lunged at the creature on my right, a short sword in his hand, and chopped through its arm with a brutal swing. To the right, Julie spun, the twin tomahawks in her hands chopping. The kids had arrived.

  My shoulders and thighs burned from the scratches, and the gashes in my back simmered as if someone had poured salt into the wounds. Only four creatures left.

  A blast of magic rocked me, nearly taking me off my feet. Some massive power had just broken through the boundary of my territory from above.

  I spun around. In the northwest, a fireball tore through the clouds.

  Teddy Jo swooped over us, his hands empty. Where was Conlan? I spun around and saw Julie holding him.

  “Kate!” Teddy Jo pointed toward the fireball.

  “I’ve got this,” Curran snarled next to me. “Go!”

  He gripped my waist and threw me up. I shot up ten feet into the air. Teddy Jo caught my arms and pulled me up to him, locking his arms around my ribs, and then we streaked through the air toward the column of smoke.

  Note to self, once this is over, explain to my husband to never throw me like that again.

  The ruined streets slid under me. Wind tore at my face. The column of smoke drew closer. The area above it boiled with magic. Something terrible was happening up there.

  “Fly faster!”

  “Don’t make me drop you.”

  Seconds ticked by. Roofs rolled under us, followed by ruins, then more roofs, and then we were in the Unnamed Square. The pillar of smoke rose from the middle of the street. Teddy Jo dived. Ten feet above the road he let me go. I dropped down and rolled to my feet.

  The street was empty. I spun around, looking for the enemy. Where the hell are you, bastard?

  Magic punched at me from above. I jerked my head up. Above, in the thick, low-hanging clouds, something flashed with bright red. Magic pealed like a giant bell, vibrations shaking the ground.

  “Shit!” Teddy Jo snarled. A sword appeared in his hands and burst into flames.

  Something tore through the clouds, glowing red, and plunged to the ground. I dove out of the way. Teddy Jo veered to the side. The object crashed into the pavement like a cannonball, steaming. The asphalt around it softened, melting.

  I ran toward the glowing thing, Sarrat ready.

  A wall of heat blocked me. I pushed through it, shielding my eyes with my hand.

  The red glow was fading. A body sprawled on the pavement. Young, about twenty, male, probably Chinese, his shockingly beautiful face torn and mangled. I knew him. He’d gone to school with Julie. His name was Yu Fong. He’d come to the house to study once or twice with Julie and Ascanio, and he and Ascanio had spent the entire study session glaring at each other.

  He had fallen for at least five seconds, maybe more. What the hell was going on?

  Magic crackled in the clouds above me. The intensity of it took my breath away. It pressed on me like a massive hand. It wasn’t just old; it was ancient the way mountains were ancient. Every hair on the back of my neck rose.

  I planted my legs and drew on the currents around me, calling to my land, shaping the magic it breathed into a shield. Phantom wind spun around me. The chunks of fractured pavement shuddered, rising slightly, grasped by the stream of magic surging up.

  Above me the clouds churned.

  The magic flowed to me, and I built it above the three of us.

  A dark shape slid through the clouds, so huge my mind refused to accept that it was real. It was there, and then it vanished into the sky, melting into the mist.

  I braced myself inside the maelstrom of magic, my hands raised at my sides, and grinned at the sky. Come on. I have a score to settle.

  The dark shape hovered above me, hidden by the clouds but emanating magic like a lighthouse emits light.

  Bring it. Let’s see what you’ve got.

  It hesitated.

  Fine. I pushed. The magic shield I built above us split. A geyser of power shot up.

  The thing in the clouds streaked away from me, climbing higher with alarming speed. A moment and it vanished.

  I waited.

  A tense minute crawled by.

  Another.

  It was gone.

  Teddy Jo landed by me. “What in blazes was that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I released the magic, smoothing it back into its natural state, and crouched by Yu Fong. The heat had subsided. I reached over the still-warm asphalt and touched his neck. A pulse.

  I couldn’t even tell from how high he’d fallen: a thousand feet, two thousand, more? He didn’t look completely broken, and he was breathing. I reached out, trying to sense his magic. Nothing but a mere hint. Every drop of his power was directed inward.

  Teddy Jo swore.

  I turned to him. “He’s breathing. Please go back to Curran and tell him we need a vehicle.”

  “Stay alive!” Teddy Jo spread his wings and soared into the sky.

  CHAPTER

  6

  I CROUCHED BY Yu Fong’s body. The bruises on his face had turned bright red, the gashes closing and smoothing over so fast, I could actually see his f
lesh moving. The fingers of his right hand jutted at an odd angle. Broken. His clothes hadn’t burned off. He’d fallen from a catastrophic height, so hot he melted the asphalt, but his faded jeans and gray T-shirt weren’t even singed.

  Curran came running around the corner and sprinted to me. Sweat soaked his hair and forehead. He hadn’t bothered with the car. I straightened. He almost skidded to a stop and grabbed me, squeezing me to him. My bones groaned.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” I squeaked. “Conlan?”

  He let me go, kissed me, and looked me over, as if he didn’t believe me. “Teddy Jo has him. He’s locked himself in the office.”

  Oh good. It would take a tank to break into Cutting Edge.

  “Look.” I pointed to Yu Fong.

  Curran’s eyes narrowed. “I know this kid.”

  “Yes. He’s been to the house. Used to go to school with Julie.”

  “What is he?”

  “I have no idea,” I told him. “But he’s something.”

  Distant water engines roared.

  “Are the kids okay?”

  “They’re fine.”

  People began to emerge from surrounding office buildings. The morgue at the eastern end of the square glowed pale blue. Its wards must’ve activated, which wasn’t exactly surprising. Anyone with a crumb of magic in a three-mile radius would’ve felt that explosion. Being directly under it was like standing inside one of those ancient church bells while the priests pulled on the ropes. It had rattled through my skull, and I had better defenses than most of the people in Atlanta. PAD would be here soon, and then we’d have uncomfortable questions we couldn’t answer. It would eat a day, maybe more, and we didn’t have a day to spare.

  We had to move Yu Fong. He’d fallen from the clouds, so jostling him wouldn’t exactly make it worse.

  Our two Jeeps rolled into the square and stopped. Just in time.

  Julie jumped out of the first one, and Derek followed her from the second.

  “Honey?” I asked.

  Curran reached over, grasped Yu Fong by his T-shirt and jeans, and lifted him out of the warm asphalt. I caught the body for a brief second, and Curran picked him up into his arms, as if Yu Fong were a child, and carried him to the nearest Jeep.

  “Yu Fong!” Julie ran over. “Is he okay?”

  “He just fell from those clouds,” I said. “How is he still alive?”

  “He is a Suanni.”

  I blinked. According to Chinese myths, the dragon had nine sons, each with a female of a different species. A Suanni was the hybrid of a lion and the dragon, a being of fire. That made Yu Fong the closest thing to a dragon to be found in Atlanta.

  “Julie. He’s been to the house. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She waved her hands. “It didn’t come up.”

  “What do you mean, it didn’t come up?” Curran growled.

  Damn it. “The next time you bring a half-dragon to the house, I want to know about it. That’s the kind of essential information I should have.”

  “He’s just a guy I went to school with. We don’t make a big deal about it.”

  Argh. “Can he regenerate?”

  “I don’t know. I never asked. I think so. Dali would know. They’ve met before. He calls her White Tiger like it’s her name.”

  “Does he shapeshift?” Curran gently loaded Yu Fong into the backseat.

  “Sort of. I’ve never seen him go all the way. He usually doesn’t need to. He makes fire. Fire’s usually enough.”

  “Can he fly?”

  “I don’t know!” Julie spread her arms.

  Argh.

  I climbed into the Jeep. Curran got behind the wheel and stepped on the gas. We rolled toward Cutting Edge. Behind us, Derek and Julie jumped into the other vehicle.

  I gripped Sarrat. Thin tendrils of smoke stretched from the blade, licking the air.

  “Talk to me,” Curran said.

  “They killed Mr. Tucker.”

  “They’ll pay,” Curran said.

  “He never did anything to anyone.”

  “I know,” he said. “I know.”

  The Jeep jumped over a bump in the pavement.

  “Have you ever smelled anything like that?” I asked. “Have you seen one of those assholes before?”

  “No.”

  But I had. The memory stabbed me, cold and sharp. Sarrat hissed.

  Curran glanced at me. “Tell me.”

  “Did my aunt ever tell you how my family died?” I asked.

  “She mentioned a war.”

  “An army invaded them. They came from the sea. They had powerful magic unlike anything she had seen before, and they brought a horde of creatures with them. While my father and Erra were gone to a summit with other kings, they were betrayed. When my aunt and my father returned, they found their brothers and sisters murdered and creatures gnawing on their bodies. When I shared my memories with Erra, she shared hers with me.”

  The vision of a creature clutching the headless body of a child and gnawing on the red stump of his neck flashed before me. “They looked like that. Similar.”

  “Similar but not the same?” Curran asked.

  “Erra’s creatures were gray and hairless. These were brown and had fur. But they felt the same. Like corruption. Like something that had to be undone.”

  “Something that smells like a loup and shouldn’t exist.”

  “Yes.”

  “We need to save one for her,” he said. “I want her to look at it. What else did she tell you about them?”

  “They came from the Western Sea, the Mediterranean. Shinar never feared an invasion from the sea before.”

  “Why?” Curran asked.

  “Sidonians,” I told him. “Ancient Phoenicians. The way Erra tells it, they called the sea their father and sailed it to raid and to sell their purple dyes. The Sidonians built walled cities inland, farther in the hinterlands, to give invaders a target. When the attacking army disembarked, the Sidonians would melt into the highlands and cut at the enemy as it marched toward the nearest city, slicing a piece there and a piece here, and vanish back into the wilderness.”

  “They bled them out,” Curran said.

  “Yep. By the time the army got to the city, their morale was in tatters. If any invaders managed to survive and make it back to the sea, they’d find their ships had new owners. The Sidon had one main port, Tyre, a big merchant city. Huge walls, guarded harbor, with chains across its entrance and sea beasts guarding the waters. A fortress. Impregnable.”

  I paused. “My aunt told me that she met a man who’d escaped from Tyre. He told her that they had gone to bed with clear seas, and when they woke up, they couldn’t see the water because the harbor was filled with sails. The ships rained monsters. The invaders weren’t an army; they were a horde. They had magic creatures that stank of corruption, unkillable soldiers, and they burned what they took to the ground. Nothing was left standing. It was all ash.”

  “Like the box,” he said.

  “Like the box.”

  We drove in silence.

  “He wants an answer,” I ground out.

  Gold flashed in Curran’s eyes. He bared his teeth. “Oh, we’ll answer. It won’t be vague, and he won’t like it, I promise you that.”

  Good.

  Curran steered the Jeep onto Jeremiah Street. Carnage spread across the asphalt in front of Cutting Edge. Grotesque bodies, torn and mangled, strewn on the pavement wet with blood. Mr. Tucker lay crumpled on the street, small and somehow almost lost in all the gore. In the middle of it all a man-shaped pillar of pale-gray ash rose.

  “Did he ever stop smiling?” I asked.

  “No. Held it until his eyes cooked in his head.”

  This was above my pay grade. I had no idea how to deal with th
is sort of magic. That was okay. I was a quick learner.

  * * *

  • • •

  BILL HORN CAME out of his tinker shop as we parked. Bill repaired pots, silverware, and anything that was made of metal. He also sharpened knives, and he was carrying a bowie knife large enough to kill a bear. He was short, broad-shouldered, bald, and he looked like he’d be difficult to move if he braced himself.

  He walked over to where I crouched by Mr. Tucker’s body. It used to be a man. He’d said hi to us. I’d brought him iced tea. Now it was just a corpse. A split second and a life ended.

  “Not your fault,” Bill said.

  “Yeah, it is. I could’ve yelled at him to not come close when he first stumbled onto the street.”

  “He wouldn’t have listened. The man had no goddamned sense. It’s not you. It’s this.” He indicated the bloody street with a slow sweep of his hand. “It’s the Shift.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “He was a nut,” Bill told me gently.

  “Yes, but he was our nut.”

  Curran came up and rested his hand on my shoulder. Bill looked at Mr. Tucker’s corpse, looked at the slaughter, then looked back at Curran. “You folks need any help?”

  “We got it,” Curran told him. “Thanks. Sorry about the mess.”

  Bill nodded again. “I was thinking of visiting my daughter up in Gainesville.”

  “Good fishing up there,” Curran said.

  “Yeah,” Bill said. “My son-in-law told me he pulled a thirty-pound striped bass out of Lake Lanier. Can’t let him beat my record, you know.”

  “Might be a good time to visit,” Curran said.

  “You reckon about two weeks ought to do it?”

  “Sounds about right.”

  Bill nodded and went to his shop.

  I straightened. “The neighbors are running for the hills.”

  “In the four years you’ve had your office here, nobody broke into any of their shops,” Curran said. “None of them ever got hurt by any of the magical crap. We protected the street. Now they can give us a break by clearing out while we get this sorted.”

  “Help me get him off the street?” I asked.