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I heard a swishing sound as another arrow brushed the top of my head. “Okay, that one was too close for comfort.”
“I told you I intend to kill you, not give you a haircut.”
“If you kill me, you’ll be hunted by every assassin in the guild until you’re found.”
“How many members of the guild are there?”
“Membership is closed if you’re thinking about joining.”
“No, I’m wondering how many I’ll have to kill after you. Could be fun.”
Leave it to me to be hunted by a lunatic with an adventurous streak. “I can’t get a read on you. Are you some sort of shadow demon?”
He spat into the snow. “I already told you I’m no demon. Blasphemy.”
“Well, you’re not a wizard either, Harry.”
“The name’s not Harry, and I’m no wizard. No cloaks or spells. My magic is innate.”
“Isn’t all magic innate to some degree?”
“Certainly not. I’m a nature mage. Mine comes as easily as breathing.”
What was happening in mage families that so many ended up as killers? It was a topic worthy of research.
I peered around the tree trunk. “I take it you don’t channel your magic through tarot cards.”
“Ah, you’ve met a La Fortuna mage. Very powerful. My magic doesn’t rely on card tricks. I use the tools Mother Nature provides.” To demonstrate, he broke a branch off a nearby tree and ran his hand along the bark to reveal another arrow. “No whittling required.”
“Okay, that explains the endless supply of arrows. What else can you do?”
He regarded me. “You’re trying to appeal to my vanity to get me to reveal my abilities.”
“Is it working?”
“A little. I do like to show off. It’s so rare that someone appreciates my talents in real time.”
“I’ve never seen anyone do that before. Can you make any weapons aside from arrows?”
Grinning, he broke a larger branch and slid his hand along the bark. He fashioned a broadsword in fewer than five seconds.
“That’s honestly one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. What are your limitations?” I was genuinely curious now.
“It has to be a natural substance. I can’t turn a plastic milk bottle into a dagger, for instance.”
“Good thing, or the grocery store would be a dangerous place when you’re around. I’m guessing the crossroads amplify your magic, too.”
He inclined his head in the general direction of the gateway. “Quite an impressive show of power, your crossroads. I feel like I’ve taken magical steroids when I’m here.”
“Without the ‘roid rage, it seems. What’s your name?”
“I don’t think my name is important, Lorelei Clay.”
“You know mine, and I’d like to know the name of the mage about to kill me. Seems only fair.”
The sound of his sigh ricocheted off the trees. “Brody.”
“Brody,” I repeated. “No, I don’t think so.”
