Chapter 11 #4
A split second of calm, as if the universe itself had been thrown into shock, descended.
But Clint didn’t wait. He pulled Luke into his arms, struck the end of his staff against the concrete, and willed a protective orb to encapsulate them.
Multicolored light played over the two of them, and for a heartbeat longer, all Clint heard was his own rasping voice and pounding heartbeat.
Luke was motionless in his arms except for the subtle way he clutched harder at Clint’s collar.
Then, a thunderous roar cracked through the room. It almost swallowed the shrieks of pain and the scream of demonic despair. Heat pushed against the shield, but Clint held on tightly. My power has to hold, or we die.
The moment lasted an eternity that quickly became the blink of an eye. The pressure against Clint’s shield ended, so he dropped it. He scanned the area, seeking any possible attack.
But there were only seven dust piles and an ebony box. All signs of the circles and runes were gone.
“How many remains do you count?” Luke whispered as he stood.
“Seven.” Clint leaned on his staff to help him get back to his feet. “I know it can be hard to accept, but we didn’t have—”
Luke held up his hand. His green eyes were wide. “There should be nine.”
“Two survived.” Clint cast his glance around again.
“I don’t hear them,” Luke murmured. “And all I can smell is magic, but that might be misleading. If my eyes could water from overwhelming scent, I’d be crying.”
Attempting any magic inside the factory was a bad idea with so much arcane energy filling the room.
Doing so would be like lighting a match in a room near gunpowder.
The energy would dissipate in a few hours, but so would the likelihood of following anyone with a spell without having a piece of the person.
“We keep our eyes open but move on. They’ll be as weakened as we are.
If we get the prison box back in my vault, this threat will be over,” Clint replied.
He strode forward, bent down, and picked up the ebony box.
The worry that had plagued him since watching it vanish from his basement, and he sighed.
With it in hand, he turned around to face Luke.
A soft glee filled Luke’s expression, and he grinned at Clint.
Given the circumstances, Clint didn’t know that he felt that kind of mirth.
At least, not yet. Did I miss something?
This isn’t some kind of trick, is it? He hasn’t been fooling me, has he?
No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Would he? “What?”
“I’m not usually in the business of returning goods.” Luke sauntered up to Clint, putting a hand on his chest. Though Clint tightened his grip on the box, Luke didn’t seem to notice or care. Instead, he leaned up on his tiptoes. “I think I like being a good guy.”
Luke was closing in, not quite kissing Clint yet.
And Clint couldn’t help teasing in return. “A good guy doesn’t gloat until the job’s actually finished. The box still needs to be returned to my vault.”
“Well then, I guess we better get going.” Luke slid forward, toying with that last bit of distance between their lips, and then took a few steps away. His cheer diminished slightly. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed loudly. “Fuck. This means getting in your car again.”
“You survived an attack of tentacles from the Realm Beyond,” Clint said. “You can suffer through my driving.”
Luke narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “I think I prefer getting ripped apart by tentacles.”
“I’m not that bad.” Clint headed for the door.
Luke fell into step with him. “If you actually obey all the traffic lights on the way to the tower, I might believe you.”
“Odd, you struck me as a risk taker.”
“Oh, there is taking risks, and then there’s shoving your neck in a guillotine and hoping the guy holding the rope isn’t going to let go before you get back out of the neck brace lock thing.”
“Pillory.”
“Of course you know what it’s actually called.” Luke frowned at him. “You’re not hiding an enchanted one of those somewhere in your tower, are you?”
“A guillotine or pillory?”
“Both. Either.”
Clint grinned at him. “I don’t think I’m ready to share my inventory with you, thief.”
“Ooo, I’m still not living that down, huh?” Luke motioned at the box in Clint’s arm. “Look, returned goods!”
“Not fully returned. Yet. Remember?”
“So I’m an hour early on declaring that.”
“Probably only half an hour,” Clint replied smugly.
“No, no, no, no,” Luke whined. “Take the hour to drive it, I’m begging you.”
And though the complaint in Luke’s voice was sincere, Clint couldn’t help the warmth spreading through his heart. Everything they’d been through that night, and Luke was still more terrified by his driving than anything else. “Maybe it’ll be closer to forty-five minutes. Maybe.”
Luke threw up his hands and walked ahead. “Do what you want. I’m keeping my eyes closed!”
As they walked out into the night, Clint held a laugh in his throat and pushed away the dread tickling the back of his consciousness.
The survivors—of which Oz was likely one—were a problem for another night.
For now, he needed to relish Luke’s presence and the comfort in knowing that Valgaruz remained locked away. I’ll take what wins I can get.