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“You mean code Malakim hazards,” Angelica said. “But sure. Whatever you say.”
“Incoming!” Houston shouted, hands reaching for the holsters where he kept his six-six-six shooters.
“You can’t blast them in here,” I said. “Too much noise. Lasso them, maybe?”
“You lasso them. Not enough room in here to swing a cat, much less three conjured ropes. Wrassle them into submission, then maybe I can hogtie them.”
I gasped as I narrowly dodged a set of swiping acrylic talons. These girls were very pissed about not getting to trade charms with us. It was fully the influence of the bracelets they were wearing, of course, but what had flipped the switch? How did they go from basically catatonic to completely feral?
“Frost, heads up!” Morrow shouted. The next part he said directly to the third girl. “So sorry, but this is probably going to hurt.”
“Copy,” I shouted back.
She issued a battlecry as she charged him, hands poised to reach for his throat. In no time at all, Morrow had read and incinerated one of his scrolls, the smoky scent of charred paper filling the corridor. I watched his lips and the movement of his hands, wincing when I recognized the spell. This was going to hurt, all right.
A barrier flashed around Morrow’s body, solidifying in the briefest instant before the third girl fell upon him. She collided with his barrier with a resounding clang, then dropped to the floor unconscious.
My heart pounded as I ripped his spell out of the air, duplicating his barrier. Arcane energy gleamed in a bubble around me as it manifested. It would be more brittle than Morrow’s, but if it served the same purpose and protected me —
Clang. The second girl slammed against the invisible shell of force, then crumpled to the floor. These poor girls. This was far, far better than fighting them head-on with any of our magic, though. None of them were in their right mind, no point using anything that might endanger them. I hated that this reminded me of Paralumen and her cultists.
Angelica dusted off her hands. “And that takes care of all of them.”
Chunky Sneakers was on the ground, smothered in a generous coating of angelic feathers. I didn’t know whether Angelica had cast a secondary spell or let her tire herself out. At least we managed to suppress everyone without causing permanent harm.
She snapped her fingers, the feathers dissolving into nothing, leaving no traces of her magic. She stepped over the quietly snoring Chunky Sneakers, then crossed her arms, studying the three unconscious women.
“So where do we hide the bodies?”
Morrow flinched. “They aren’t dead, Angelica. And this looks bad no matter how we slice it. Three unconscious young women in some random corridor? We can’t leave them like this.”
“A bad joke, I admit,” Angelica said.
Frankly, I didn’t think she was joking.
“We can’t just Weekend at Bernie’s them out of here, either,” I said. “I’m not willing to go through all the trouble.”
Angelica frowned. “Here you go again with your Pokeymans and your weekender Barnabys. Where do you get all this nonsense, Frost?”
“I’ll explain later,” Houston said, patiently patting her on the shoulder. “Right now we need to handle this — predicament.”
I knelt by one of the girls, examining the charms on her wrist. A beach umbrella, a sun, and — huh. The word ‘Happy’ in a cursive font. That was new. I examined the other bracelets.
“You guys. They’re all wearing different charms, except they have this one in common. See?”
Morrow pinched one of them between his thumb and forefinger, squinting at it. “I still don’t understand what it is that makes these things trigger. I mean, you’re still wearing your charm bracelet. Nothing happened to you at all.”
I ripped off my bracelet, then watched as each one still around the sleeping girls’ wrists disintegrated, charms and all.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
Angelica and Houston exchanged a hesitant look. Angelica spoke first. “Well, you see — about the trigger.”
One of the girls groaned, then another, until all three shifted, waking from their sleep. They rubbed the sides of their heads, a little roughed up from our encounter, but none the worse for wear.
“What — what happened?” Chunky Sneakers asked.
Houston went down on his haunches and treated them to one of his winning smiles. “Looks like you might have tired yourselves out. Shop till you drop, am I right, ladies?”
