Page 45 of Magical Midlife Rescue (Leveling Up #11)

Tristan

Tristan’s team of powerful guardians colored the crisp blue sky.

Mountains rose up to either side of them, creating a sort of channel that fliers had to use or else be subjected to the unpredictable winds higher up.

A couple miles in front, nestled into a large, mostly flat slope between two ridges, rested the Gimerel cairn.

The cairn had been established ages ago for its defensive capabilities.

The winds were too turbulent to drop down from directly above them, and only one road wound up along cliffs and tunnels to reach the town.

To access this remote place, a flier would have to take the route Jessie’s crew currently flew. Slowly flew.

So damn slowly.

He had to carry Jessie off and on to give her tiny wings a break.

This speed of an advance would make it look like they were incredibly confident in their team’s prowess. Robust guardian teams did this for smaller cairns and production facilities. It was a gargoyle’s version of “being fair.”

But that wasn’t why Tristan had advised this tactic.

He wanted to keep Nelson’s eyes on the sky.

He and his people probably had their binoculars out right now, determining who was advancing and looking at Tristan’s flight pattern.

Guardians would be organizing, while garhettes scurried around, dressing up or dressing down, depending on whether they wanted to be grabbed by an attacking guardian—that is, if they wanted a speed-dating situation that started with a “kidnapping” and ended with the garhette choosing either to stay with the attacking cairn or to free herself (usually violently) and head home.

It was a tradition that existed to allow garhettes to get the hell out of their towns without having to break off engagements or make excuses or sneak out in the middle of the night. Odd, but there it was.

With the cairn in a flurry of activity, all watching Jessie’s team advance, they’d miss Alpha Steele’s team working their way up the mountain.

Jessie didn’t run a cairn—she co-led a convocation.

It was important that all their team get to participate.

Jessie and Alpha Steele were just about to show the gargoyles how effective magical unity could be.

Jessie tilted a tiny bit to the right, her telltale sign that she was starting to tire but would try to stick it out.

Tristan swooped down and grabbed her around the waist. She pulled her wings in and slumped in his hold.

The female of the species wasn’t made for extended flight. She couldn’t even soar properly.

He wondered why they’d evolved like that. Nature baking in a single weakness, perhaps? They didn’t seem to have any others.

Jessie pointed, her claw gleaming in the noon sun. “Cooo.”

He wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. Cool, maybe?

Two weaknesses, then.

Scores of little dwellings surrounded the large stone fortress of Gimerel’s main hub. It was a cool sight, he had to admit. Formidable, even. Ancient. But dank as all hell. Its bowels weren’t exactly pleasant. He’d always hated to spend much time there.

The structure rose three stories into the air, backed against a cliff face.

Gothic spires topped two of its towers, host to several lookout windows.

Once upon a time, the structure had showcased the pride and joy of Gimerel, a multi-gem bracelet with decent artistry. A statement of wealth for their cairn.

That bracelet was nothing compared to the necklace and earrings Jessie and Alpha Steele had created with larger gems and impeccable workmanship.

Alpha Steele’s jeweler had outdone himself, having clearly marveled at the size and quality of precious gems scattered around Ivy House and made something that would shine.

Nelson would lose his shit when he saw them.

All the wind would go out of his sails when he inevitably compared his wealth to Jessie’s… which was the point.

One of the points, anyway.

Nelson still sneered about his lost raid against Ivy House.

He’d spun the story to make himself look better.

He hadn’t left his bracelet behind because of Jessie’s team, oh no.

He certainly hadn’t lost to Jessie herself, an upstart who’d gotten her magic from a house.

A Jane. Someone who wasn’t fit for gargoyle culture.

No, he’d lost solely because of the house.

The house had trapped him, not Jessie. Without the house, she was nothing.

Today, if everything went according to plan, Jessie would bitch-slap that tired rhetoric.

Deniers of her power would be silenced. She wasn’t just going to own the leader of Gimerel, one of the most prestigious of all the cairns—she was going to embarrass the hell out of him. She would, not the house.

Tristan was giddy with anticipation.

The white vans worked up the side of the mountain. Alpha Steele and the crew were halfway there. Time to kick things in gear.

Tristan sped up. He wanted to get the timing perfect.

His people spread out around him, a new strategy he’d devised after the battle at Kingsley’s. During that skirmish, his people had too easily been scattered. The team turned into individuals, and that had turned into far too many deaths.

Now he had pods. Each pod had a team leader and a second, like a mini pack. Instead of scattering individually, they’d scatter in teams. Each pod looked after their other members. This mock battle would be a trial run.

Tristan watched Austin’s convoy climb, slowing in some places but not stopping. Tristan had always kept watchers on that road, despite Nelson saying there was no point. And at the time, there hadn’t been, honestly. Now there was. Nelson and his new lead enforcer would learn the hard way.

Bodies ran around the grounds, people getting in position. From the distance, he couldn’t see any organization.

Come on, come on, Tristan thought impatiently, holding himself back from putting on a burst of speed.

He couldn’t wait to show Nelson what he’d lost. Nelson’s disdain hadn’t stopped at Jessie.

He’d told everyone about Tristan’s muddy history, discounting Tristan’s prowess and shrugging off all he’d done for the Gimerel cairn.

Nelson was working hard to keep Jessie’s and Tristan’s statuses as low as possible.

Tristan increased his speed, cutting the distance. Watching Austin. Feeling Jessie’s anticipation build through their connection.

Over the cairn, guardians rose into the sky. They spread out over their homestead, using the flight pattern Tristan had devised. Their airborne numbers would top Jessie’s.

It wouldn’t matter, not even a little. Tristan had learned from Alpha Steele and the shifters, and his strategies and planning had grown in leaps and bounds. He’d come a long way in a short time. Gimerel would feel their wrath.

His heart thudded. Jessie’s magic matched it, the drumbeat of war. She fed it through the connections, invigorating them all. Getting them on the same page.

Alpha Steele was nearly to the last tunnel. There, they’d exit their vehicles, shift, and head up the rest of the way in beast form.

Guardians beat their wings above their fortress. At the top, a lone figure walked out onto a wide landing.

Nelson.

He’d watch the battle from his stoop, the way he always did. He’d probably assume a smug expression as he did so, assured of his victory. He had no idea what he was about to face.

Here we go, Tristan thought, pushing himself to attack speed. Austin’s motor brigade stopped. They exited quickly, hyper-organized.

Jessie braced herself within Tristan’s grasp. She didn’t wiggle to free herself yet. They were still too far away.

Thunder rolled through the sky. It drifted all around them as the great thunderbird flying above the guardians sounded his readiness. Cyra was next to him, probably a streak of fire. Below the guardians were Jessie’s immediate crew, Jasper, Ulric, Niamh, and Mr. Tom.

Another peal of thunder reverberated across the valley. Jessie’s magic pounded them with anticipation.

The big polar bear emerged from the other side of the tunnel, moving at a measured pace. His shifters followed. Basajaunak ran last. Their purpose would be to scare the absolute hell out of anyone on the ground while the guardians battled above.

Closer now. Nearly above them. Jessie’s magic swelled, and the power in it stung his eyes.

She’d grown by leaps and bounds as well.

When she’d confronted Gimerel’s raid, she’d had training wheels.

Now, she was a force to be reckoned with.

She had more experience, more determination, and fewer reservations about ruthlessness.

She’d found her darkness and learned to bask in it the gargoyle way.

He strained, wanting to fly faster. Wanting to slam into the enemy with everything he had. But he held himself back. They had a spectacle to provide first. The battle would come next.

Tandor Holling flew at the front of the Gimerel guardians. Huh. He wouldn’t have been Tristan’s first pick for the lead enforcer position. He could be ruthless, but he got frazzled much too easily.

Tristan would spin his head around today.

Nelson stood stoically, his hands spread along the stone banister. Tristan could just make out his expression: annoyance. It took him a moment to understand why.

Garhettes crowded the square, stood along the sidewalks, and populated the lanes.

They looked at the skies, ignoring their guardians and focusing on who was coming.

All ages were present, from those just barely old enough to be on their own to females well advanced in their years.

Some wore slinky dresses with made-up faces, customary for finding mates, but others wore pants, long sleeves, and sturdy boots, standing in a way that said they wanted to fight.

They didn’t have weapons, though. They wanted to be taken, and then they wanted to be armed. They were looking for jobs, not mates.