Chapter 17 #2
And now we would pay the price.
Vale whistled, and other familiar faces came into view, pressing closer to the park borders. Cowboy. Nina. The vampire guard I’d met during my first visit.
“No Harriet?” I asked.
“Harriet doesn’t fight.”
There wasn’t time to dig any deeper. Urien strode into view, his trench coat belling out around him with each surefooted step.
“Remember,” I said, preparing to strike, “we either contain them or force them to retreat.” Maybe the mist would claim them again. Whatever ended this standoff without casualties was fine with me.
Gage sauntered across the lawn toward the leader of the Seven Sorcerers, like a general riding forward to request a parley with the enemy commander before the battle began.
“Greetings, cousins. We weren’t expecting to see you again so soon. How’s Mordren?”
“I’m well, thank you,” Mordren called, waving from behind a tree. “We heal quickly.”
Urien silenced his companion with a fierce look.
“I always wondered why you Coranians would choose to stay in the mortal realm when the Sídhe exists.” As Gage continued his casual conversation, I realized it was a stalling tactic. He was giving the rest of Vale’s team time to get in position.
“What do you know of the Sídhe, traitor?” Urien growled.
“I hear the lands are forever bountiful. That the apple trees always bear fruit, and there is an endless flow of ale.”
“And there are roasted meats that will make your mouth water,” Mordren piped up from behind the tree.
“You shame our kind, gancanagh,” Urien said.
“You’ve been roaming this same earth for centuries,” Gage said. “Why am I a traitor but you’re not?”
“Because you’ve embraced this life. This world.” He waved a hand with a flourish.
Gage laughed. “And you haven’t? Come on, my man. You’re fooling yourself. You travel from place to place, thieving and weaving your spells.”
“Only because we have no interest in living underground like rats,” Urien said. “And we do not bow to humans.”
Vale drew his sword and moved to stand beside Gage. “Good thing we’re not humans, then.”
Urien appraised him. “Give us the stone, godling, and we’ll go in peace.”
“Sorry, it’s no longer for sale. Buyer’s remorse.”
“You will give it to us freely, or your people will suffer for your stupidity.”
“People suffer enough from their own stupidity. They don’t need my help,” Vale replied.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “Give us the stones you already have in your collection, and we won’t hurt you.”
Urien belly-laughed, which was a shocking sound for a faerie as gaunt as he was. “You cannot hurt us. We are Coranians.”
“We can’t kill you with a weapon,” I said, “but from what I can tell, you’re quite capable of intense suffering.” I glanced over his shoulder. “Right, Mordred?”
“I wouldn’t describe it as intense,” Mordred replied. “It was only a flesh wound.”
My smile broadened. “Room for improvement, then.”
All the humor drained from Mordred’s face.
Urien stuck his fingers in his mouth and let loose a shrill whistle. I got the impression he was mocking Vale’s earlier signal.
Across the lawn, the sorcerers formed a crescent—dark trench coats, pale hands, strange sigils already burning faintly in gold along their wrists. Their magic tasted like copper and old storms. The fountain gurgled behind them, water catching the moonlight, oblivious to the rising tension.
“Last chance,” Vale called. His voice carried—commanding, ancient like his father. “Walk away.”
The demigod stood perfectly still, poised with the fury of a tempest. An ice storm brewed in his eyes, and his skin shimmered with faint traces of celestial light. He was ready for this.
And so was I.
My blade hummed, a low, resonant note that vibrated in my bones.
The fae answered with fire.
Sigils flared. The air fractured. A bolt of white-gold force tore across the lawn.
Everybody seemed to scatter at once. I dodged left.
Vale clashed with Urien. I chose the faerie directly in front of me, one of the three we hadn’t fought in Reynolds Square.
He was unnaturally tall, with a shock of white-blond hair that stood straight up, and he wore the same trench coat and boots as his fae friends.
“Did you get a discount on your matching outfits?” I asked. “Who am I kidding? You probably stole them with your fake money, just like you steal everything else.”
“Do you mean to insult me? I feel no remorse for our actions. We steal from the humans as they have stolen from us.”
“Humans aren’t your enemy.”
“They are the reason we were cast out of our home, forced to live as strangers in our own lands.”
“No, the Fates and the gods are the reason. Mortals were the excuse.”
I matched his energy, outwardly calm but with a predatory sharpness. My hair, now a mass of coiling snakes, hissed in anticipation. My appearance was so serene, I wondered whether the others sensed my barely restrained chaos.
My blade struck his magic shield. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Cowboy and Nina holding their own against a scythe-wielding faerie.
Forsyth Park was now a supernatural battleground.
With a wave of his hand, Urien unleashed a spell that split the air like a whip.
Shadow energy emanated from the invisible line.
I lunged forward, my dagger glowing bright in the darkness, and met the blast with a swift swipe that split the dark magic into shards of blackened light.
They fell to the ground in jagged pieces and dissipated.
“That’s the best you've got?” I taunted.
Cowboy looked at me askance. “Okay, later you’re going to have to tell me how you did that.”
I’d revealed more of my powers than I intended, but that was a problem for later. Right now, the goal was survival.
Vale moved with impossible speed, as my serpents struck our foe with precision. I focused my mental energy on blocking the dark magic, but it poured through the holes in my defenses. I was painfully out of practice. It had been years since I needed to craft a magical defensive wall this strong.
Another blade slid into my palm as I pivoted—short, curved, silver. I sliced the bolt in half. Magic resisted, screaming against steel, but my edge held. The blast split around me, detonating twin craters in the grass.
Cowboy disappeared from view—one blink and he was a smear of shadow. He reappeared behind a sorcerer and snapped his arm with a sound like a branch breaking. Cowboy’s fangs flashed at his throat. It wouldn’t kill the faerie, but it would sure as hell slow him down.
Gage charged straight through the center.
They hurled chains of light at him—binding spells, divine-warded. They wrapped his chest, arms, throat—
—and then Vale’s sword came down.
The impact split the night.
Light shattered like glass. The shock wave rippled the fountain water outward in a violent ring. Two sorcerers were thrown off their feet.
I ran left.
One of them pivoted toward me, chanting fast, hands weaving tight circles. The air thickened—gravity twisting. My knees buckled as the ground tried to swallow me.
“Not gonna happen,” I muttered.
I hurled my dagger low. It sliced through the faerie’s focus, embedding in his thigh.
Then I was on him.
Blade across his palm first to disarm the spellcaster. Then across the throat. Hot blood. The spell collapsed, and the pressure vanished.
They were down but not defeated. Death wasn’t an option for them, only for us.
A blast of heat roared past my ear. I ducked, rolled, came up with the longer sword in hand now—steel forged for monsters, runes etched faint along the fuller. A sorcerer stood near the fountain, the tips of his hair rustling in the breeze, eyes glowing molten.
He lifted both hands, ready to crush me with a spell.
Gage appeared behind him, but the sorcerer was ready. He whirled and slammed a palm into Gage’s chest. Light exploded. He flew backward, skidding across grass, smoke rising from his body.
Rage sparked in my veins.
I sheathed my sword and pulled the chain from my belt—silver links weighted with hooked blades at either end. I snapped it once, twice, feeling its balance.
The sorcerer sent a wave of force.
I greeted it with a kiss of steel. The impact stole my breath, but momentum carried me through. I spun the chain wide; one hooked blade caught his wrist mid-cast. I yanked hard. Bone cracked. His spell misfired, blasting harmlessly into the sky.
I closed the distance and drove another dagger up beneath his ribs.
His glow sputtered out.
Behind me, Gage bellowed.
Two sorcerers combined their magic, weaving something darker now—shadows pooling at their feet, rising like tar. Not elemental. Not clean.
Possession magic.
The shadow lunged for Gage’s sword arm, trying to crawl inside him.
He faltered; the weapon fell.
I sprinted, but Vale was closer.
“Vale!” I shouted. “Gage!”
Gage dropped to one knee, muscles locking as the shadow crawled over his skin like oil.
The Coranians chanted faster.
Vale’s celestial blade cleaved through both sorcerers at once. Flames rippled over darkness, forcing it back.
Gage was free.
While Vale held the line, I saw an opening.
Urien was focusing too much on the outpouring of magic, and too little on his own defense.
I hurled a dagger, the dangerous tip flashing like a silver comet as it flew through the air.
Urien's eyes widened in realization too late.
The blade pierced his eye, and he gasped in agony.
His magic flickered, losing its potency, and for a moment, the entire park seemed to hold a collective breath.
Vale seized upon the faerie’s moment of weakness.
The demigod swung his sword, the blade burning through the air like a streak of fire.
Urien raised his hands to conjure another shield, but it wasn’t fast enough.
Vale’s blade grazed his side, sending him stumbling back in pain.
He pressed one hand to his eye and the other against his side as blood seeped from the wounds.