Page 40 of Magical Midlife Rescue (Leveling Up #11)

TWENTY-FOUR

Nessa

She didn’t have time to be subtle. Couldn’t be in this situation. She wrapped her energy around the two holding her and asserted all her will .

They reacted differently, one jerking in surprise and the other immediately letting go of her arm. Some people were more stubborn than others. She pushed, her energy flowering out now, keeping solid pressure on the weaker-willed one and doing a little more coaxing on Stubborn Guy.

“What are you doing?” Stubborn Guy asked, slowing. His fingers spasmed on her arm. He wasn’t talking to her, but the other guy.

“We don’t need her,” Weak Willed replied, full of conviction. “She’s nothing.”

“We’re…supposed to…” Stubborn Guy sounded confused, his voice wispy. Her magic continued to press on him. “But…we’re…”

“Come on.” Weak Willed moved away. “We did what we came here to do. Let’s go.”

“But…” The fingers slackened, as though Stubborn Guy wasn’t quite sure why he’d been holding her in the first place. “Yeah…”

He didn’t sound completely convinced. He pulled his hand away, but he didn’t move.

A little distance, a little logic, and he’d realize he’d messed up. Nessa had to take the chance while she had it. She doubted she’d get another one, not when they rendezvoused with the holding team.

She changed the message and shoved her will at them as she hurried away.

“Useless,” Weak Willed said, still convinced. “We shouldn’t have bothered to grab her in the first place. She’ll just die?—”

Stubborn Guy swore. “We’re supposed to bring her in, you idiot! She’s put a spell on us.”

Damn it!

Nessa kept her magic circling while she ran. But she couldn’t see! She’d gone for walks in this area, followed the creek, checked exit plans, but they all involved her eyes. She hadn’t accounted for darkness, a bag over her head, and her hands tied behind her back.

Her foot hit a rock, and she pitched forward.

Footsteps ran after her. She hit a bed of frozen ground and sparse leaves before rolling.

Her hood loosened a bit, but not enough to come off.

Someone swore, and the other one grunted—were they fighting through their convictions?

She couldn’t be sure. Her magic was weakening.

She hadn’t built up a lot of endurance yet.

More footsteps, closer. Stubborn Guy had won out.

“No, please,” she said. It never hurt to beg. “Please, I can pay. I can pay you.”

Large hands grabbed her upper arms and lifted her to her feet. Her back hit a hard chest before the configuration of the arms changed. One slid along her back, and the other scooped under her knees.

“ Shh , Natasha, I’ve got you.”

That whiskey-rough voice loosened every muscle in her body. A sob choked her, and she twisted in his arms, pushing her face tighter into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” he cooed, starting to jog.

He turned this way and that as branches brushed across, shielding her from the worst of it as he pushed farther into the trees.

His familiar smell enveloped her, amber and woody with a hint of chocolate on his breath.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you, little angel. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sobs of relief and lingering fear for Sebastian shook her body. She kept her whimpers as quiet as possible so he could work. His footfalls barely made a sound. Hell, she’d barely heard him take down her captors. They surely hadn’t seen it coming.

He stopped and then bent. “Stand here, little angel. I need to shift, and then I’m going to fly you out of here, okay?

I had to fly ahead of the others. We need to meet up with them and see what’s next.

Curse me, baby, you’re freezing. It’s okay.

I’ll try to envelop you as much as possible. Just hang on.”

She didn’t care about the cold. She didn’t care if frostbite took a toe. He’d come for her. They’d all come, somehow knowing this would happen without her knowing it herself. She’d been so careful.

She’d been outgunned.

The sound of boulders moving was his shifting, and then the hood was ripped off her head by the huge gargoyle-monster towering over her.

His touch was gentle for a creature so large and powerful as he turned her.

A finger slipped between her wrists delicately before a vicious yank sliced the zip tie away with a claw.

His muscular arms came around her again, and then they were airborne.

Jessie

Tristan flung me toward the group of mages carrying Sebastian to a row of three vans.

They only had about ten feet to go. Tristan took off with a burst of speed, spying a couple other mages going in the opposite direction with what must’ve been Nessa.

Our other gargoyles, carrying the shifters and their speed no match for Tristan’s, were on their way, going as fast as they could. I needed to stall until they got here.

I swooped down at the ten or so people, a spell at the ready.

They’d probably be powerful, having to deal with a mage like Sebastian.

Barely in range and I let fly, wanting to get the jump on them before they put up their defenses.

My spell hit the two people at the rear, thankfully walking close together.

Part of it cracked into one of their shoulders, severing a limb.

The other hit farther down—the same effect, if less of the limb.

They screamed, knocked sideways. Being mages, they didn’t try to keep fighting. Instead, they wrapped magic around themselves and crumpled to the ground, rolling and twisting within their pain.

The other mages turned in my direction, but they didn’t look up. These mages must not have been at Kingsley’s and weren’t used to fliers. That, or they were slow to think of the possibility when on strictly mage business.

I hit another one with a lot of power, close now. It cut through him. He barely had time to scream before he hit the ground. My wings beat quickly, making far too much sound. I wasn’t good at gliding like the male gargoyles.

Spells jetted through the night sky, right for me. I banked, wrapping myself in a protective layer, and fired one of my own. It missed, striking the ground. A spell hit my shield, and then two more. The magic singed my defensive layer, definitely powerful.

I banked again, shooting another spell and then dodging one of theirs.

A second spell struck me, though, then a third, hammering at my defenses.

I fired, thought of a blistering spell that didn’t need as much power, and fired again.

Another spell went down, but there were still six more mages.

One hustled Sebastian to the van while the others shot spell after intense spell, slamming into me.

My stomach tightened as I dove and then cut right, firing as fast as I could.

The flight path helped—they were not used to a moving target—but not enough.

Their spells cut chunks out of my defensive layer now.

Magic burrowed past and slashed at my tough skin.

I took a moment to reapply a stronger defensive shield, giving them that moment to fill my world with jets of magic.

Breathing heavy now, I climbed for distance, still firing. I had more power. At a distance, I could still do damage where theirs wouldn’t be so great. It took more energy, though.

I fired, thought of a simpler and easier spell, and fired again. Their spells still reached me, not digging through my defenses but still sapping my energy and therefore my strength. I fluttered in the air, and they rushed for their vans, leaving their fallen behind.

If they took off, I wouldn’t be able to keep up. Not without Tristan or someone flying me.

Damn it, where was Tristan?

My heart sped up as I worried he might be in trouble, or that he couldn’t get Nessa. Or that Nessa was already lost.

Choking back fear, I dove again, firing at the mages pausing to get into their vans. They returned fire. One door closed. A mage fell, but another got in. I wasn’t strong enough to blast through metal, and I couldn’t see them within the glass at this angle.

Closer still, as I decided what to do, the sound of wings filled my world. Snarls and roars preceded shifters running toward the vans, led by Austin. The gargoyles must’ve dropped them off before rushing to me. Someone grabbed me and the others surrounded me.

Help had come.

Sebastian

He came to with a crick in his neck, then picked up his head and winced at the stiffness of his body. His hands had been zip-tied behind him and his elbows secured with rope to the sides of a wooden chair. His feet were likewise tied up.

The holding cell was as he might expect, a ten-by-ten space made of cinder blocks, cold and dank. Blood spatter coated a few of the walls, and large, dark stains spread out over the ground. This cell had seen a lot of use.

He wondered if it was Momar’s or the Guild’s.

He wondered if they would trade Nessa for Jessie. Was this what inevitably led to his betrayal of Ivy House?

It had been a vision of his, half-cocked and distorted, as they always were.

A feeling more than anything. A dreamscape.

He’d gotten a slice of the seer gene that ran in his family; he had visions occasionally, and they always came true, often with a lot of bloodshed.

By now, he’d learned to just go with them, to find the quickest path and somehow make it work.

Momar would give a great deal to have Jessie and Austin delivered to him. Jessie, they’d repurpose, probably, even though she was an animal by their standards. They wouldn’t want to waste her awesome power—assuming Ivy House would stand for it and not kill the compromised heir itself.

Austin, they’d torture. They’d show his broken body to the shifter world and heft his head on a spike while systematically taking out the rest of his kind.

Sebastian would get repurposed as well, of course. They wouldn’t waste him any more than they would Jessie.