In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1)

by Sonya Bateman

  Noah held back a groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Isn’t that Sawyer Volk?” Diesel muttered behind him.

  “Yes, that’s him. The big star.” Of all the Knights, Sawyer was the only one who eclipsed Julian Bishop’s obnoxiously inflated ego. The man was so full of himself, he had to spend most of his time getting out of his own way. Of course, he’d already been a celebrity before the dragons, so he’d only gotten worse as a Knight. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  “He drinks with the sheriffs,” Isaac said. “Actually, he drinks with everybody in Casper. He’s a real people person.”

  Noah snorted. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’d call him.”

  The trio staggered inside the place, and the front door closed on another roaring laugh from Sawyer. Noah sighed and leaned his head back against the alley wall. “Any time now,” he said. “You know, sometimes I really despise Jaeger.”

  Less than a minute later, the cheap phone buzzed with a text. Go.

  Finally. “All right, it’s time,” he said. “Let’s move.”

  They met no one outside as they crossed the street and went to the back of the building. The door was locked. Isaac made short work of it with the pick gun Oscar had made for him, and they slipped in with Noah leading and Diesel last. The plan was for Noah to confuse anyone who approached, and Diesel to take out anyone coming behind them.

  Behind the door was an open area with hallways leading left, right, and straight ahead. Noah could hear Sawyer’s voice rumbling all the way down from the front, and a hearty chorus of laughter chasing whatever he said. It sounded like a lot of people laughing.

  Great. There was a Knight throwing a kegger in the jail they were breaking into.

  He went down the right-hand corridor, trusting the other two to follow with Diesel watching their backs. Halfway to the end, a guard rounded the far corner ahead. The man hadn’t even opened his mouth when Noah fired a small blast at him, and he suddenly found something interesting on the ceiling.

  He was still looking at it when they walked past him.

  Cell block D was behind another locked door. Noah moved aside, let Isaac do his thing, and immediately blasted the woman behind the desk on the other side. She smiled and slumped over gently, asleep with her eyes open.

  “You know this gun won’t open a cell,” Isaac said softly.

  Noah nodded. “Don’t worry. Diesel’s got it,” he said. “Right?”

  “Right.”

  They went in. Past the desk was a corridor between two rows of double-occupancy cells, each with a sink, toilet, and a set of bunk beds. The first two on both sides were empty. A total of three sleeping figures in the next pair. In the third cell on the left, a man who matched the photo sat on the lower bunk with his hands cuffed behind his back. A second figure lay still on the top bunk.

  Amba looked human enough — except for the wisps of black smoke curling around him like his clothes were smoldering. But there were no flames, no burning smell.

  Noah wasn’t even going to ask about it. But that was probably why they’d left him cuffed.

  He stood and grinned when Noah stopped in front of the cell. “About time you got here,” he said.

  “So you were expecting us.” Noah shouldn’t have been surprised. Jaeger had probably assured all his people that if they ever got arrested in Casper, the idiots from the desert would bust them out. Or else. “You might want to stand back.”

  Frowning, Amba moved two steps backwards. “Where’s the key?”

  “Right here.” Noah shifted aside, and Diesel stepped up to grab the bars of the door. His hand pulsed once with a white glow, and he wrenched the sliding door aside with a grunt and a crunching metallic snap.

  The sound woke the cellmate in the top bunk. As Amba strolled out, the other man scrambled down and whispered loudly, “Hold on, friend. If you’re escaping, so am I.”

  Amba didn’t even look at him. “Not a chance. Friend.”

  Once their target was clear, Diesel slammed the cell door shut. He grabbed the bars on either side of the door and squeezed. A tortured squeal sounded as he twisted the metal together.

  “Hey,” the man in the cell said. “You let me out, or I start yelling for the guard. Got it?”

  Growling, Diesel rammed an arm through the bars, grabbed the man’s shirt and tugged sharply. His head smacked the cell door. When Diesel let go, he collapsed on the floor.

  Amba regarded the big man with a raised eyebrow. “Nice,” he said. “You should come out to the main camp with me. Jaeger could use you.”

  “Not a chance,” Diesel said. “Friend.”

  “Okay. Thought I’d ask.”

  Isaac glanced at the man’s cuffed hands. “Can’t pick that, either,” he said. “The guard must have a key, though.”

  “No need for that.” Amba squirmed and shifted for a few seconds, and then lowered his arms. The cuffs were gone — not just off his wrists, but vanished. “Ready when you are, gentlemen.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Noah hissed sharply. “You could’ve gotten out of here without us.”

  Amba shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

  “So what the hell are we doing here?”

  “Rescuing me.” Amba rolled his eyes. “You Badlands bunch really are morons, aren’t you? Come on.”

  Noah pushed in front of him with a glare. “You stay back,” he said. “We still have to get you outside.”

  “Oh, right. The rescue thing. Got it.”

  Christ. Jaeger Storm was a maniac surrounded by maniacs.

  Getting out was even easier than getting in. Other than the guard in the hallway, who was still transfixed by the ceiling, they encountered no one. Isaac whipped up a fog once they were outside, but even that wasn’t necessary. The block seemed deserted.

  And the Sawyer-party was still going in the front of the jail.

  Noah managed to regain a few degrees of calm by the time they reached the vehicles. But when Amba started circling one of the four-wheelers, he snapped a little. “No way,” he said. “Back of the jeep. You take that bike, and I’ll never see it again. Jaeger has enough resources without helping himself to ours, too.”

  “Hey, don’t be like that.” Amba grinned. “I don’t need a ride. Got one stashed already. Thanks anyway, though.”

  “Great. I guess you’ll be going now.”

  “Yes, I will.” The man gave a sloppy salute. “Thanks for the rescue,” he said. “I’ll put in the ol’ good word with Jaeger for you.”

  With that, he marched off, whistling.

  Noah closed his eyes, jaw locked against a frustrated snarl. “Isaac,” he said. “Do me a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “Follow that crazy bastard, make sure he gets out of town. If he doesn’t, give him a lift.”

  Isaac glanced over and gave a slow blink. “Um. What crazy bastard?”

  “The…” Noah trailed off as he looked at the parking lot. Where Amba wasn’t any more. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he nearly shouted. “Fine. Can you just drive around a little and make sure he’s gone, and not re-arrested or something? We’re still responsible for him.”

  “No problem,” Isaac said.

  “Thank you.” He rubbed his forehead and looked at Diesel. “Let’s head back, before I kill someone,” he said.

  The big man nodded. “Good idea.”

  “Goblins. Christ,” Noah muttered as he settled on the bike.

  If anyone they brought in started turning into a goblin, he’d kick them out himself.

  CHAPTER 36

  The Badlands

  August 11, 12:40 a.m.

  Okay, fine. So she was lost.

  Teague sat on a smooth stone outcropping that overlooked a large, flat area of the Badlands, rolling the flashlight she’d borrowed when no one was looking between her hands. It wasn’t as dark as she’d thought it would be out here. The stars were endless, and the moon picked out all that pale rock pretty clearly.

  So much roc
k. Miles of it in every direction. None of it familiar.

  After Noah took Diesel and stormed out of the training room, she’d spent the rest of the day being friendly, suppressing her temper, and trying to pry information from anyone she could. She’d managed to learn that Noah was going to break someone out of jail, though she didn’t know who or why. She’d sweet-talked Sledge into showing her the armory — slash motor pool — on the pretext of adoring his practice sword and wanting to pick one out for herself. It was at the far end of the ravine, through a crevice in the shadows.

  Just before ten, she’d made a point of telling multiple people that Diesel had worked her to death and she was going to bed. No one seemed to care much, but that wasn’t the point. She knew they’d be heading for Casper around eleven. It actually took her the better part of an hour to go down the tunnel, lump blankets around on her cot to make a person-shape, and then sneak back out into the ravine.

  The whole everyone-ignoring-her thing helped with that part.

  She’d hid in the armory-motor pool, a cave big enough to hold five four-wheelers, four jeeps and six motorcycles, until she heard the rescue party come in. Noah, Diesel, and Isaac. When motors started and tires crunched, she’d watched two four-wheelers and a jeep drive up a tunnel that ran in the opposite direction of the entrance.

  After a cursory search that, not surprisingly, turned up no keys in any of the vehicles, she’d set off after them.

  The whole plan had hinged on her tracking skills, which apparently she’d overestimated. She’d gone hunting with her father countless times, ever since she turned six. So she figured if she could track mule deer, antelopes, elks, moose, and mountain goats, she could follow the trail of three noisy vehicles through terrain where there couldn’t possibly be a whole lot of drivable options.

  And she’d been right, for about an hour. Then she lost the trail coming out of yet another tunnel into a heavily marked volcanic dirt field with easily a dozen ways to go from. She’d picked one, intending to double back if she didn’t come across any more tracks soon. Except now she couldn’t even find the field again. And since she’d started wandering aimlessly, she’d heard sounds in the distance from directions she could never quite identify, sounds that might be animals. Or not. If the Darkspawn hid in the Badlands and managed to survive, it was likely they weren’t the only ones out here.

  She probably could’ve planned this a little better. But her only thought was to get home, to Bishop. To Julian.

  The panic wasn’t full-fledged yet. Maybe she’d have to sit here until the sun came up, but then she might be able to spot the field, and get back to camp — awful as that idea was. If she did that, she’d probably erase whatever tiny shreds of trust she had. But it could be either that or wander around out here until she died.

  Okay, that was a grim idea. She wouldn’t think about that.

  She’d just decided to head in the direction she thought the field was instead of sitting here and waiting for those probably-not-animal noises to find her, when a distinctive sound rose in the distance. The sound of engines. She looked for a glow and spotted it at the far end of the flat rock area ahead, getting brighter.

  Two headlights, moving individually. The four-wheelers.

  At once scared and relieved, she turned the flashlight on and scrambled down the slight incline toward the rock plain. She pointed the beam at the approaching vehicles, waving an arc as wide as she could. Trying to will them to stop, and to be someone she knew.

  Which was strange, she thought briefly. Because she should want it to be anyone but the Darkspawn. As long as they stopped, she could probably take them down, steal a four-wheeler and head for freedom. She had a much better shot at finding her way out of the Badlands with a vehicle.

  Still, she kind of hoped it was Diesel, and maybe Isaac. Bonus if Noah wasn’t with them.

  The four-wheelers slowed and came to a stop with her in the headlights. She couldn’t make out anything past the glare, but she knew exactly who it was when one of them spoke.

  “I’m going to strangle you. I swear to God.”

  There was a heavy dose of disappointment in Noah’s tight growl, and she actually felt kind of bad. “I think I might let you,” she said in subdued tones, stepping between the cones of the headlights. Now she could see them. Noah and Diesel, both equally pissed. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.”

  “Damn right you are. I don’t even have to know what the fuck you’re doing to figure that out.” He sighed through clenched teeth. “So what the fuck are you doing?”

  “Um. Following you?”

  “Are you crazy?” he roared. “You’re walking. Through the Badlands. At night. Alone! What are you, a goddamned goblin?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I don’t think so.”

  “Good! Because I hate goblins!” Noah throttled back with extreme effort. “You could’ve died out here, Teague. I don’t like losing people.”

  Damn it, now she really felt bad. Especially since she wasn’t one of his people. “I just wanted to help,” she said. The words she intended to be assertive and accusatory came out small and lost. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Okay, look,” Noah said. “If you’re that desperate to fight, you can come out with us next time. Probably. Just … do not pull any more stunts like this. All right? Because I don’t want you dead.”

  She gave a miserable nod. He’d just given her exactly what she wanted — and she felt terrible for getting it.

  “All right, then. You ride back with Diesel. I’m too pissed off for a passenger right now.” He glanced at the big man, who nodded. “See you back there,” he said, gunning the gas briefly before he peeled the bike around her and sped off.

  Teague sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” she said to Diesel.

  He almost smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Come on, let’s get you home.”

  There was a lump in her throat as she climbed onto the back of the four-wheeler and held his waist. They were going the wrong way to get her home.

  But right now, it didn’t feel so wrong.

  CHAPTER 37

  Yukon Street Clinic

  August 11, 7:50 a.m.

  Naomi decided to come in early, before the clinic opened, before Aileen got there. Despite last night’s setback, she was more determined than ever to find the Darkspawn and pass along Scott’s information.

  She’d survived the Warrens, and she’d found Goddard. It was more than she expected. And if he wouldn’t help her — well, she’d just have to help herself.

  Some of Scott’s paranoia must be rubbing off on her, because her decision to keep researching at the clinic instead of at home was based on the possibility that someone might track her Internet activity. She reasoned if they found a bunch of Darkspawn searches on the computer here, she could claim professional interest. After all, clinics were one of their main ‘attack’ targets.

  She powered up the front desk computer and started a pot of coffee. Just as she moved to sit down and wait for one or the other to finish, someone knocked at the front door.

  “Damn,” she said under her breath. There was a smudgy person shape on the other side of the frosted glass. It wasn’t Aileen, since the woman had her own key. But it could be an early walk-in. She got them here sometimes.

  She thought about not answering, pretending she wasn’t here. But she’d already turned the lights on. Besides, if it was a walk-in, they were sick. Helping sick people was still her job.

  Grabbing a lab coat from the rack behind the desk, she shrugged into it as she crossed the lobby. Twisted the deadbolt, opened the door.

  It wasn’t a sick person. Unless hangovers had been reclassified as an illness.

  “Naomi.” Sawyer looked very tired, and very pissed. “Can I come in?”

  “I … ah, sure.” She moved back to let him by, closing the door behind him. A split second later, she thought maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea. Because she couldn’t think of any reason why
he’d be here more than an hour before the clinic opened.

  Nice man beneath it all or not, he was still a Knight. He worked for BiCo.

  She expected him to say something, to explain why he was here. But he just stood there looking at her, until finally she said, “Can I help you with something?”

  “Yeah.” His expression shifted to favor furious. “You can tell me what the hell you were doing in the Warrens last night.”

  “The Warrens?” she stammered, out of complete surprise rather than any attempt to deny it.

  “Yes. The Warrens. Nasty, dangerous neighborhood on the north side, full of gangs and rogue magic users. Ring any bells?”

  She recovered straight into irritation. “What I do is none of your business,” she said. “It’s a free country. And how do you know where I was, anyway?”

  “Oh, that’s just perfect. You’re not even going to try saying you weren’t.” Sawyer glowered at her. “I’m a Knight,” he said. “It’s my business to know what happens in this city, and to protect people. That means knowing when some idiot who shouldn’t be there wanders into the Warrens, sticking out like a sore thumb.”

  “Idiot? I know what I’m doing—”

  “No. You don’t.” His lip curled, the start of a snarl. “There aren’t any patrols in that place, but there are ears everywhere. And things have a way of getting back to BiCo.” He took a step toward her, and she fought to stand her ground. “Sympathizers are not tolerated. At all,” he said. “Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  She nodded. “I hear you.”

  “I hope you do, Naomi. For your sake.” He looked about to say something more, but seemed to change his mind. The exhaustion won out again. “I have to do my job,” he said, his voice nearly breaking. “Please don’t make my job harder than it already is.”

  The words chilled her. Was he actually saying he’d kill her if he found out she ‘sympathized’ with the Darkspawn? Did he already know she’d tried to contact them?