Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lienna
Seven down, three to go.
I sprinted alongside the rail that separated the museum’s ancient ruins from the walkway above them, dodging steel pillars and informational boards.
Two potion balls whipped past me, barely missing. A crackling bolt of electricity hit the railing, blackening the wood. I veered into an exhibit, slid to a stop, and whirled in a clean arc with my leg swinging high.
The guard rushing around the corner after me had no chance to block my kick. My heel slammed into his jaw, and he pitched over, out cold before he hit the floor.
Two to go.
The electramage dashed into the exhibit, his two dagger switches crackling with power.
“Ori elementa diffundo!”
I was spouting the incantation before the forks of lightning leaped at me—a lesson all sorcerers had to learn: don’t wait, anticipate. Incantations were slower than mage attacks.
Which was why, even as the Elementaria abjuration spell on my necklace diffused the electric attack, I was already chanting a second incantation.
“Ori dormias!” I threw my last stun marble, pointing my toe and rotating my hips. It struck the mage in the chest, and he went down, falling on top of his guildmate.
One to go.
Dropping my satchel from my shoulder onto the floor, I charged out of the exhibit. The final guard was waiting for me—the huge, heavily muscled mage who’d come through Ballester’s office door first and faced the brunt of the new push-spell configuration on my cube.
Blood ran freely from his broken nose, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he curled his hands into fists, his massive biceps bulging. Fire ignited up his arms, but he wasn’t holding a switch, meaning he likely didn’t use one. Some mages went all in on power over precision.
Fine by me.
Baring his teeth in a bloody grin, he made the flames surge higher up his arms and over his shoulders, the fabric of his uniform burning away. His confident glower suggested he expected me to run away.
I darted in close, pivoted sideways, and jabbed fast with my foot. His arms had barely begun to move into a block when my kick collided with his groin.
His fire sputtered, and he staggered backward, his face leached of color. I followed him, my second kick just as fast. He shielded his injured crotch, and I slammed my heel into his diaphragm instead. He stumbled again as fire exploded off him in a searing wave.
I thrust my hand out. “Ori repercutio!”
The air around my gold ring rippled and the wall of fire rebounded away from me. I rushed in behind it, and before the mage knew I was there, I’d taken out his knees. He fell forward, bringing his head within reach of my roundhouse kick.
He hit the floor, nose and jaw broken, the remains of his shirt smoldering.
Breathing hard, I ran back into the exhibit, grabbed my satchel, and scanned the floor for my stun marble.
Where was it? Frustration spilled through me like boiling water.
I hated losing things. Losing a game, losing a fight, losing my temper, losing respect, losing control of a situation.
Losing a stun marble after incapacitating ten mythic security guards in a Barcelonian history museum.
“Where the hell is it?” I muttered, spinning and crouching as I searched.
Losing a single artifact wouldn’t have bothered me this much if we hadn’t been fugitives on the run with limited access to Arcana materials. But right now, I couldn’t afford to leave it behind.
I finally spotted it in the shadow of the electramage’s leg. After dropping it into my satchel, I moved swiftly out of the exhibit, scanning for danger instead of marbles.
If Kit were with me, I’d be subjected to a quip about “losing my marbles.” I wanted that quip—to hear his voice, to have him beside me, to be escaping this mess together.
Smooth woodgrain pressed into my fingertips. I’d subconsciously stuck my hand inside my satchel and wrapped my fingers around my Rubik’s cube.
The museum was muted and dark, a heavy hush lurking in the air. I skulked in the shadows along the wall, though there was no real need to evade the cameras anymore. The guard in the security room was unconscious, and my face would be all over their security footage of the fight.
Circling back to the exhibit with massive photos near the door to the museum’s back halls, I paused. Maybe I should find Kit. I’d taken care of the guards. I could help him with Ballester and the vault.
I squeezed my eyes shut, biting down on the inside of my cheek. I needed to get outside and watch for anyone entering the museum. The rest of the security guild could show up at any moment.
Exhaling roughly, I turned—and froze.
A man was striding toward me, his shoes making almost no noise on the floor. Every detail of his appearance was deeply familiar, from the slant of his shoulders to the simple blazer he wore to the fine wrinkles lining his face.
My Rubik’s cube was in my hands, but I didn’t remember pulling it from my satchel. All I could do was stare, because this was impossible. Because I must be hallucinating. The man had to be one of Kit’s warps. He was trying to send me a message or something. Any second now, it would make sense.
But the man kept coming, his expression taut with tightly controlled emotion. “Lienna.”
No, it was impossible.
“Ori menti defendo,” I whispered.
I hadn’t used my cat’s-eye necklace in months—I hadn’t needed it since Kit had learned to exclude my mind from his widespread warps. But the anti-Psychica abjuration spell didn’t erase the vision before me. It wasn’t a warp. It wasn’t a trick.
Somehow, my father was here.