Chapter 2 #2
He sighed, annoyance creeping into his demeanor. “Is there a reason this shit brings out the sarcastic comedian in you? Because, timing-wise, it’s not the best.”
I suppressed a snort and motioned him to follow me instead.
Blending with the shadows, we ducked between trees and low bushes, inching closer to the border.
“You know,” James murmured as we huddled behind the last bush before we’d be visible to all hostiles, “if one of them manages to get word out they were attacked by magi, it’ll be open war between species.”
I raised a brow at him. “Can’t tell if that worries you or excites you.”
He shrugged. “Little of both.”
I shook my head, adrenaline already starting to pump. “You want to do this without translation? Make sure there’s no evidence of magi attacking humans?”
James’s expression was almost thoughtful. “We’re outside the Metasphere. Our translation is visible anyway. Tactically speaking, it’s more responsible not to use it.”
My gaze flicked to the guards’ uniforms, sizing them up. “Honestly, I don’t give a shit how we do this, as long as we kick their asses. They bubbled in our people, locked in my—” I coughed once, cutting myself off. “Locked in Emma. They’re going to pay either way.”
“Then we agree? We don’t lure them here, but cross the border ourselves and attack them on their side of the perimeter?”
I gave a curt nod as I watched the nearest guard. “I’ll move out back here to translate us two rides when we’re done. We won’t make it out of there on foot.”
His brow ticked. “We’re betting our lives on you translating human motorcycles?”
Fucker.
“Worry less about me, and more about figuring out how to ride a Yamaha YZF-R1 M without hurting yourself.”
That got him. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, impressed despite himself. Which annoyed the crap out of me.
“Keep it up, and I’ll make you ride bitch on a pink Vespa,” I added dryly.
James gave me a sidelong look. “If you translate me a scooter, I’ll kill you before you kick the stand up.”
I smirked. “Don’t worry, Walker. I’ll make sure it has enough horsepower to outrun even your ego.”
His glare sharpened, but the corner of his mouth twitched before he looked away.
“Let’s go, then.” He shot his Skindo out from his tattoo, the blades held together now by the handle like any regular non-magical five-pronged weapon.
I didn’t want to be impressed by anything that had to do with the guy, but I hated to admit, those skills were pretty awesome.
While translating, our haze always stuck close to us.
We could shoot it out, but not too far. The Skindo was the only weapon in the world that could extend our haze beyond its normal limits, turning it into a fucked-up force that reached far and fast. And James wielded it like a natural-born killer.
Too bad he didn’t want to imbue it today. The weapon could’ve given us an undeniable edge against those humans.
Especially since my human go-to weapon was a simple dagger—short, double-edged, the worn hilt molded to my grip—now resting in my hand after I’d pulled it from my boot.
The faint glow of the border checkpoint lights flickered ahead, stark against the inky black of the night.
Approaching the line, I braced myself, adrenaline kicking in. In a few seconds translation would be impossible. Unless we felt like incinerating on the spot.
We crossed the border in sync, boots crunching over brittle ground as the boundary shimmered overhead. The moment we passed through, sound warped for a second. The bubble settled around me, feeling very unnatural. My muscles twitched, instinct begging me to translate.
This leash cut me off from the one thing that made me faster, deadlier, and harder to kill. Without translation I felt slower. Exposed. Just a guy with boots and a pulse. But I clenched my jaw and kept going.
An Offensive does not flinch.
James hit first, moving with the precision of a predator, every motion efficient. The Skindo became an extension of him and disarmed the nearest guard with a brutal twist of his wrist, sending the rifle clattering to the ground.
I was right on his heels, my own knife flashing in my grip as I drove it up beneath the next soldier’s ribs before he even registered I was there. I twisted and ripped it free as he dropped instantly, hitting the ground like a sack of stones.
"Keep moving!" James yelled, ducking low to grab another guard and slamming him face first into the dirt with a brutal elbow strike.
I shot him a glare as I ducked a rifle butt aimed at my head, then stepped in close, and dragged the blade across the attacker’s side. “Really? I was just about to put on some tea and biscuits!”
We pressed forward, but the soldiers were quick to adapt. Guns snapped into place, the harsh clatter of metal and boots filling the air as they closed ranks around us.
“Shit,” I hissed, punching my fist into someone’s gut. The soldier’s body crumpled beneath the blow, but it didn’t matter. More were moving in fast, and their numbers were overwhelming.
“There are too many of them to do this without my haze,” I growled while my knuckles cracked against another jaw.
James grunted as he drove his knee into a soldier’s stomach, sending him flying back. “You’re complaining now, Colt?”
“Just making one of my exceptional observations,” I snapped, my blood boiling as the soldiers pressed in tighter.
But we didn’t need to take them all down, just enough for us to break through.
Then James’s voice cut through. “Push left, hard.”
I didn’t question him, swung left and cleared space with a vicious elbow. The bubble shimmer thinned, almost gone.
Crossing the border into Canada again, magic prickled back over my skin.
“Cover me!” I barked, right before my boot hit the canister I’d kept tucked in my pack. It detonated with a concussive pop, a fist of gray smoke punching up so fast all their heads snapped up to the other side. Shouts, rifles, and a chorus of coughs flooded the checkpoint.
Perfect.
I shot out my black haze, hidden by the curtain of smoke. Metal screamed into existence before two matte-black Yamahas materialized out of thin air, chrome gleaming, engines already primed.
James grunted as he snapped a guard’s neck, holding the line while I swung a leg over one bike.
“Go!” I roared.
He vaulted onto the other, engine snarling to life under him. Bullets cracked through the trees, as sparks bit off the translated metal.
Side by side, we tore out of Stanhope like hellhounds unleashed, headlights cutting a burning path through the fog while soldiers scattered behind us.
We’d cut it close, but I didn’t give a shit. My mind was solely focused on one thought, and one thought only.
Four days. No one had heard from her in four fucking days.