Reagan pulled open the door, which hadn’t been locked. She wasn’t concerned about intruders. “I’m getting a bad feeling lately. Things have been too quiet.”
Cold pooled at the base of Emery’s spine as he watched her sweep the open space just as he had done. She seemed to know quite a lot about the constant presence of enemies, though maybe it was nothing more than self-preservation from having bonded an elder vampire.
“How so?” Penny asked, peeled off to the side and hunching. She looked around the murky warehouse, the hard light gleaming in west windows. Her gaze darted to each shadow in turn.
Various items of warfare sat on racks in the back, near a few chairs that had been set up. Another couple of chairs sat in the opposite corner, nothing around them. The rest of the large warehouse was completely bare, swept clean.
Reagan flicked on the light, chasing many of the shadows away.
“Those aren’t…power rocks, are they?” Emery asked, pointing to a collection of various-sized rocks along the back wall.
“No.” Reagan didn’t elaborate, though Emery couldn’t fathom why she’d have large, mundane rocks lying around. “Penny, you’ve been in town for a few months now. And while the Bankses are known to be a strong dual-mage pair, for all they know, I’m just a retired bounty hunter. No one knows me from Seamus the sheep farmer—”
“I think you spent too much time abroad,” Penny mumbled.
“We should’ve seen, at the very least, people hanging around my neighborhood, trying to learn our habits. But not even Smokey has seen anyone. I mean, you were out the other night with a bunch of witches.” Reagan flicked her finger at Penny.
Hunching further, Penny gave Reagan a hard scowl before drifting along the walls, digging her hand into the multi-compartment belt encircling her waist. It was the same belt Clyde had given her in Seattle. Emery needed to get another one.
As Penny started setting power stones around the empty floor, Reagan strapped her arsenal to her person.
“I do not, for one second,” Reagan said, “think the mages at the MLE office are all good guys. Maybe they aren’t totally bad, yet, but we’d be simpletons to think the Guild isn’t paying for information.”
“They didn’t seem to recognize me,” Penny said, holding the second to last rock Emery had sent her. Her gaze switched to Reagan. Then back to him. “Huh.”
“What?” Emery asked.
“Best not to try and understand her weird relationship with those rocks,” Reagan murmured. “You’ll think she’s a quack.”
“Like you can talk, Fanny Pack,” Penny shot back, her scowl back.
More chuckles racked Emery’s body. He’d forgotten how Penny could make him laugh.
Penny dropped the rock back into her belt.
“What was it?” Emery asked, trying to force down the laughter.
“Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky power stone doesn’t know which of you it would rather catch a ride with.” Penny pulled out another stone, this one deep purple.
Reagan caught Emery’s eye before making a circle in the air around her temple. Crazy.
“It’s only been a day since we helped with that banshee,” Penny said. “They wouldn’t react that quickly. Not in numbers.”
“I’m just surprised they haven’t shown up yet. Not one creeper in the bushes. Not one sneak attack.” Reagan braced her hands on her hips, watching Penny move about the space. “The Guild normally isn’t this patient.”
“They are amassing,” Emery said, the humor draining from him. “They’ve been following me in increasing numbers. Darius sent me a message when I was in the Realm—the Mages’ Guild has the gate closest to New Orleans blocked off.”
“Darius said that?” Reagan’s brow furrowed. She waited for confirmation before shaking her head. “I might need to have a word with that secret-keeping SOB. Old habits die hard, my ass.” She waved her hand, and while the gesture might have seemed like a dismissal to some, he could see the hard gleam in her eyes. That vampire had bonded his match, Emery could tell. She was more than she seemed. But what, exactly? “Right. C’mon, Penny, let’s get cracking.”
After placing the last stone—Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, she’d called it—halfway between Reagan and Emery, Penny skulked out to the center of the warehouse and turned to face Reagan, who was standing a hundred feet away. Penny’s expression crumpled into one of wariness. Her stiff frame and a tight jaw said she was entirely too wound up. She worked better loose, letting the magic naturally flow around her.
Emery refrained from saying anything. He wanted to see how this played out.
Reagan brandished her sword, and Penny’s wariness turned into confusion. And then Reagan was charging toward her, faster than he would’ve believed possible, with aggression in spades. She was on Penny in a flash, and literally backhanded her across the face before picking her up and tossing her across the warehouse.
Emery stepped forward, everything in him pushing to run to Penny’s side. Power pulsed from somewhere near him. One of the power stones, throbbing.
Penny, lying on her back, thrust her hands into the air.
Power crackled within the warehouse. Energy scraped across Emery’s skin, making his eyes water. Magic blasted from her hands, streaming toward Reagan in a thick weave.
He stepped forward again, but this time it wasn’t to protect Penny. It was to tell Reagan to get the hell out of the way. That spell, an intricate, artful weave made up of over two dozen components, would fry someone alive.
Reagan thrust her hand into her opened fanny pack, grabbed out what looked like a casing, smashed it against the base of her sword while muttering what sounded like gibberish, and sliced through the spell just in time. The sword splintered the weave, sending it curling to the sides, but didn’t unravel it.
“I hate that trick,” Reagan said, running toward Penny as the spell tracked her from behind. As she came close, she reached downward, aiming for Penny’s chest.
Penny reacted hard and fast, slapping the hand away and punching up into Reagan’s face. The blow didn’t land. Reagan jerked back a fraction and swung her arm, hitting Penny’s forearm with her own. Before the move could be executed, Penny kicked up, hitting Reagan right behind the legs.
“Good move,” Reagan said, twisting to drop her knee onto Penny’s thigh. “But my balls are figurative.”
Streams of magic rolled and boiled above Penny before running through her fingers, faster than thought, and morphing into something Emery, quite frankly, didn’t understand. It wasn’t a weave so much as a sparkling collection of harmonic elements, fire and ice in perfect balance.
An explosion without sound concussed the air. Reagan flew backward, her arms stitched down to her sides with unseen hands. A smile graced her face and she didn’t struggle or even twist. She hit the ground and bounced before jerking free, her sword still in her hand despite the force of the invisible and unexpected blow.
“Sneaky little thief,” Reagan said as Penny scrambled to her feet.
“You said we could share,” Penny hollered.
Reagan got up slowly and wiped her forearm across her mouth. “You made me drool a little.”
Penny started, staring at Reagan with wide eyes. “Oh no.”
She didn’t reach for her magic. She didn’t brace to fight.
She turned tail and ran.
“There’s nowhere to run to,” Reagan said.
“No!” Penny yelled. “Timeout. Do-over. Uncle!”
Reagan took off after her, a mad smile on her face. “Use your magic, you scaredy cat.”
“No killing, remember?” Penny yelled over her shoulder.
“I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to kick you.”
Penny pulled elements out of her belt and from the various items in the room, weaving as she sprinted to the corner then pivoted randomly and headed away at an angle.
“I can change direction faster than that banshee,” Reagan said. And then cackled.
“Turdswallop apple sauce,” Penny said loudly, getting a weave together as Reagan came within striking distance. “No!”