And it finally clicked.
The reporters, down from their perch for a last stand.
But despite their courage, and despite the fact that they’d just stopped a dark mage advance cold, it was about to be their last.
Because they might know some wicked spells, but the point of war mages wasn’t just what they knew, but what they were: magical freaks whose bodies produced many times the magic of a normal human’s. So yeah, three or four dozen regular Joes might be able to hold a narrow pass for a minute or two. But the pass was about to get a whole lot wider, and they were about to get a whole lot weaker, and this wasn’t going to work.
“Where are they?” Carla screamed. “Where’s the goddamn Circle—”
“It’s only been ten minutes,” Françoise said, staring at me.
“Ten.” The witch gaped at her like she was speaking another language. “What do you mean, ten?”
“I ’ave been timing eet.”
“No. No, that’s wrong. That’s impossible!”
But it wasn’t impossible. I’d spent two or three minutes talking to the mage, another minute or so in Augustine’s, and maybe a couple more for the hound to run amok. And then Rhea . . .
No, it wasn’t impossible at all.
I started fumbling around in my shirt.
Things got both faster and slower after that, like someone was playing around with time. But I didn’t think it was me, since I couldn’t even manage to get the high collar of the nightgown open. Maybe because of the shrapnel from that first blast.
Pieces of it were sticking out of the hands I’d thrown up to shield myself; out of my side, which was drenched with blood; out of one of my knees. And then another spell hit nearby and I gave up and tried to crawl. The pain was excruciating, because I think I was crawling on the shrapnel, but I did it anyway. Because it was that or die, make it to the shop or die, make it soon or die, making a rhythm that thrummed in my head, in my heart, in the blood in my ears.
But not so much that I didn’t notice other things.
Like the violet spell, thrown by the girl with pink hair, which wrapped around a vicious red curse heading my way and stopped it cold, burying both of them in the floor. Or like the net spell that engulfed two mages who were running at me, and then constricted, throwing them off their feet. Or like the lasso that tripped up half a dozen more, because they hadn’t seen the thin line snaking across the floor at ankle height until it was too late.
And none of it mattered.
Because the men behind the fallen were just stepping on their brothers in their eagerness to get at us. And the defensive spells from our side were already getting overwhelmed, having to try to pick up two curses at once, which didn’t always work. And using offensive magic against well-warded dark mages was almost a waste of energy, most of it just glancing off to explode harmlessly against the floor.
We only had maybe half a dozen yards to the shop, but we weren’t going to make it, were we? We were about to be overrun—
And then we were, when a stampede of impossible blue and silver creatures burst out of the shop, roaring and trumpeting and growling as they thundered past. And over, clearing us with the grace of leaping tigers. Which some of them were, I realized, blinking at the herd of Augustine’s little origami animals sailing by overhead. Although they weren’t so little anymore, being life-sized and savage-looking—
And utterly harmless, because they were still made out of freaking wrapping paper!
But the mages, who had just been decimated by the hound from hell, didn’t know that. They abruptly shifted their target from us to the horde, which exploded in bursts of silver and blue confetti—also harmless. But there was a crap ton of it and it was everywhere and totally unexpected. And the reflective foil took on the colors of the offensive spells being lobbed around and—
And we had a couple seconds, didn’t we? I realized.
“Pull back!” I yelled, trying to crawl and rip my collar open at the same time. “Pull back!”
I didn’t know that anyone even heard. Panic had set in, and people were running everywhere, and plaster and glass were raining down, and the sprinkler system had come on and was further confusing the issue. Along with whatever Mircea was doing, because he was doing something. I could still see parts of that other room, along with a glimpse of glowing amber eyes—
Because he was trying to see through mine, I realized. And maybe he could, but I couldn’t. Like I could barely move because two minds can’t control one body.
“Cut the connection!” I yelled, choking on water and plaster dust. “Cut the connection. I can’t see!”
And I guess he did, because the room suddenly snapped back into focus, and control of my body came with it. I stared around, still half-blind because of the plaster mask mixing on my face, my hands tearing at the damn collar. And finally grabbing the ugly necklace inside just as a blur of blue ran past.
It was Carla, freaking out like everyone else, but who stopped when I snagged her arm. “Do you have any microphones?”
“What?”