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Joan stood at Rope’s elbow, expression neutral, as if she were watching a play. Her stance gave the impression of immense distance from events, even though she could have reached out and touched Cohen’s leg. She claimed to be an agent of the Wardens, but if Walker had lied to me, was there any chance she'd told me the truth? An agent should be arresting Cohen.
Why had they brought Kara? If Joan was a citizen, why had they traumatized a sixteen-year-old, even if she was considered of age to be a witness, though not in any other sense? So many lies.
The shrieks continued. I relaxed in a chill bath of numbness creeping up from my chest. Shock had finally set in.
It took almost all my energy, but I enunciated clearly, “Chance. Take care of Dmitri. Make him safe.”
Chance hissed a curse between his teeth. “I’m losing her! Stop playing with him, asshole!”
There it was. At least I knew under everything, Chance cared. He’d take care of my boy if all else failed. I turned my eyes to Walker again. How had I been so wrong? At least the stress had shut my talent down for the moment. I didn't know if I could bear knowing what Chance and … Rope … were feeling.
Rope stared into Cohen’s face. “For treason, assault, and unauthorized magical experimentation on humans, I, Rope, Judge, take you into custody and restrain you, prior to your sentence of death. Done this day, August 6th, 2646.” Rope’s voice, flat and cold, sounded nothing like Walker’s. But Walker had only ever been a pose to maneuver me.
Cohen screamed as Walker’s magic enveloped him. Flesh rolled over his eyes, ears, and mouth, leaving only his nostrils exposed, his face a blank featureless mask. Silence fell, interrupted by his breathy snorts.
Wow. Silver had only kicked me in the head repeatedly. I’d never thought that was the nice alternative.
I wanted Walker back. At the same time, the hurt of betrayal still stabbed me even through the shock. It was more painful than the other injuries. He was the first man I’d loved, and he turned out to be an illusion.
“Help! Now!” Chance snarled.
My vision hazed. Warmth poured into me and my eyes cleared. Walker- no, Rope-stood next to me, a gentle hand caressing my cheek. The emotions flowing through the touch, concern and affection, those were Walker. It was the same man.
I stared at him for a long moment, letting my anger show, and felt a flicker of hurt in the emotions. Good, he’d hurt me a lot. I turned my face away toward Chance, breaking the contact.
“She's stable. Regeneration will have to wait until we're someplace safe. I can't spare the power given the situation. Let's get her out and get out of here.” Walker's voice was calm and cool.
The mage still shrieked, but they ignored him. Possibly because he had a shield up to protect him from attacks, but they could have at least tried to shut him up.
When a working failed to scratch the straps, Chance pulled out his pocket knife. That didn’t work either.
The answering screams of the approaching mage-Ridden were so loud. I forced the words out through my torn throat. “The other mage-Ridden are coming, we need to run.”
They ignored me. If I hadn’t still been strapped down, there would have been hell to pay.
“They probably have a specific code release word.” Joan looked up from examining the straps.
“Which would be known by either the dead woman or Cohen.” Walker stared down at me in the chair. “If we have to, I can stabilize your amputations and help you grow them back once we’re safe.”
Well, wasn’t that a nightmare offer? He must be truly desperate. I was ready to consider it when a hollow boom came from outside the building. The walls shuddered around us, plaster sifting down in streams from where the roof met the walls, powder flying into my face. The white dust gave a ghostly appearance to the tableau.
The mage-Ridden had arrived and were attacking the wards around the house. I gave it two more hits, tops, before they brought the house down.
“I think you should call the Road and run,” I said hoarsely. “Chance, make sure Dmitri’s safe.”
Joan took a step back from Walker and spread her arms wide. A crackle of pale silver power surrounded her. Joan thrust her hands up, and a clear circle of power shimmered into being around us
Above us, the ceiling shook, cracked, as if under a great weight. The displacement of air made my ears pop. The walls collapsed, the brick and plaster impacting the shield that protected us. Joan went down on one knee, head and shoulders bowed as if she were supporting a heavy weight.
A hammer blow of magic hit Joan’s protective sphere. The ruins of the house dissolved into rubble. The dust slid down the curve of the sphere that had kept us from being reduced to hamburger, and the figures of the mage-Ridden came into view, drifting through the rubble to gather in a circle, just outside the protection Joan was maintaining.
Cascades of magic hit the shield, a battery of attack from the mass of mage-Ridden. The outside world vanished, only the colors and textures of the magic trying to kill us visible.
How was her shield holding against more than a dozen battlemages? No one had that kind of power!
The shield of force around the Ridden mage dropped. He grinned, his face stretching as more and more teeth showed. “Join us or die, Rope. Frost.”
Unless someone was hiding a seven-foot-tall giantess in their pocket, Frost wasn’t here. Weird.
