Excerpt: Magical Midlife Meeting

Chapter 1

A round face loomed over me and I screamed, clutching the bed covers and yanking them up to my chin. My magic boiled within me, nearly releasing. If I’d lost control, it would’ve blasted the intruder across the room.

“Good morning, Miss Ironheart.” Cyra, the mythical phoenix who lived in Ivy House but wasn’t officially a member of the team yet, clearly hadn’t learned the rules of personal space. She smiled down on me, her silky black bob shining within the soft light from the windows, giving her hair a slightly blue sheen. It struck me that the light didn’t reflect off the thick-rimmed glasses over her jade-green eyes.

I lifted my head and squinted at her. “Do you have any lenses in those glasses?”

She laughed and straightened up. Fire curled into the air from her shoulders and something like liquid magma dripped from her fingers onto the bed and floor.

“Oh, whoa.” I scooted away, only then noticing the presence at the end of my king-sized bed, its little body standing on the corner of the mattress, its painted-on baby face turned down in sorrow. It held a glass of water. “No!” I kicked at the doll, but the bed was too long for me to reach. I scooted down and tried again. “No dolls on my bed. No dolls—”

A spot on my comforter blackened before a tendril of smoke rose into the air. Small thuds sounded across the floor, more dolls rushing forward. The one at the end of my bed skittered toward me.

Fear quickened my heart. I threw out a hand to blast it away, but it tossed the water at me before I could, glass and all. Water slapped my face, and the glass thunked down onto my ribcage. More liquid splashed up from the floor, hitting me crossways.

“I’m not the one on fire!” I hollered, patting at my bed, snuffing out the little flames the dolls had missed. My comforter slipped down, and I quickly hauled it back up to my chin. “Cyra, away. How many times have I told you not to come wake me up? Mr. Tom gets special privileges because he brings me coffee.”

“Yes.” She gestured to the nightstand beside the bed. “I have brought you coffee. It is scalding hot, just like you like it.”

“No…” I groaned.

“What’s going on?” Hollace sauntered through the open bedroom door, but at least he had the good grace to step to the side rather than approach the bed. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his large arms over his chest, the darkness of his skin contrasting with a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his muscular forearms. He was another new addition, the third being a gargoyle and the last being dead.

A pang hit my heart as I thought about Sebastian, the odd mage who’d taught me so much in such a short period of time. Before Elliot Graves had killed him.

I pushed the thought away before any of the attached rage or guilt could drag me under. Elliot had only killed Sebastian because of me, something I couldn’t seem to get past. Then, not long after, he’d amended his causal invite to meet for a drink. I was now invited to his residence, the exact location to come later, along with a collection of other mages, the number of total attendees and who they were not disclosed, to compete for his attention like some sort of dating show. The invite had been vague at best, and now Niamh was scrambling to find out more information, uncovering only bits and pieces at a time. For example, she’d found out that the residence seemed to be some sort of collection of tunnels within a mountain, possibly with limited entrances and escapes, but nothing beyond. To say I was on edge about it was a vast understatement.

Hollace kicked out, an almost lazy movement, clipping a doll and sending it rolling across the floor.

I smiled despite myself, the expression melting away immediately, not unlike the bedroom rug probably would beneath Cyra’s lava-dripping elbows. “Cyra, stop shedding fire!”

“Oops.” She laughed again and yanked her arms in tighter. Little droplets of fire sprayed out.

The doll on the bed ran for the glass next to my ribs.

“Gross, get—” I kicked, connecting with it this time and knocking it to the floor with a thunk. They were helpful when it came to Cyra’s unconscious droplets of fire, but they were still animated murder dolls. I hated having them around all the time, especially when I first woke up.

The rest of the dolls ran to the bathroom with their glasses, going for more water.

“What’s going on?” Ulric jogged in, his pink and blue hair spiked and his lithe frame shirtless. “We having a meeting? Oops. Those dolls are failing in their duty. Look at this—five spots of fire.” He stamped on the nearest. “We’re going to have to get the floor redone at this rate.”

Hollace pushed forward, his focus on the ground, snuffing out another spot. “The miss needs to learn the spell for canceling fire so we can lock up the dolls.”

“I know, I know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I just can’t seem to get the elemental spells right. The root spell is super complex. It’s at the very top of my power scale and there is literally no room for failure. I need help…”

The room fell silent, and I looked out the window, feeling a stronger rush of sadness chased by rage. Sure, Sebastian had been Elliot’s employee, something I hadn’t known until the end, but Elliot hadn’t needed to kill him.

“Maybe send out another summons?” Ulric asked, stomping at the ground.

“And potentially get someone else killed?” I shook my head.

“If he could not defend himself, he wasn’t good enough for this team anyway,” Cyra said, something she repeated often. She wasn’t just trying to make me feel better—she was speaking the truth as she knew it, and most of the team agreed with her. The magical world was cutthroat, and I was starting to wonder if I had what it took.

Not like it mattered. I’d taken a blood oath to protect this house and these people, and there would be no takebacks. I was in it to win/lose it regardless of what I might want.

“It’s fine,” I said, nearly sitting up before I remembered what I was wearing. I had put on a see-through lacy number last night, hoping Austin would eventually make it over. He hadn’t, unfortunately, still kept insanely busy by his ever-growing pack. “I’ll figure it out. Can you all leave now so that I can get up?”

“My, my. Busy morning, isn’t it?” Mr. Tom bustled in carrying a silver tray laden with a steaming white mug, a thin white porcelain vase containing one red rose, and a plate with fruit and biscuits. His tuxedo was freshly pressed, his nose high, back straight, and loose jowls wobbling as he made his way to the table by the window. He’d clearly thought I’d want to take breakfast in my room, usually done in silence and with the door locked. Given everything I’d been pummeled with within minutes of waking up, he was correct. “To what do we owe the pleasure of so many loud personalities so early in the morning?” A question I hadn’t thought to ask after the invasion of the dolls.

I reached over and tapped the screen of my phone. Half past nine, not early for Dicks and Janes—the non-magical—but an hour or so before I usually got up.

“I’ve been thinking…” Cyra scratched her eye through the rim of her glasses.

“What happened to the lenses?” I asked, bewildered.

“They made my vision blurry,” she replied.

“So why wear glasses at all?”

“It makes me look more human.”

“Our faces make us look human,” Hollace drawled, back to leaning against the wall. “Our bodies. That’s why we inhabit them.”

I squinted my eyes and bit my lip, still struggling to understand the natures of our new houseguests—Cyra a phoenix and Hollace a thunderbird. Their souls lived on from body to body, through the eras, which wasn’t like me, obviously. But they both had a magical shape, like a shifter or gargoyle (like me), and a human form. They looked human, at any rate. Yet they didn’t think of themselves as human. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Was I not human anymore? Were any of us?

“It is too early for an existential crisis,” I groaned, closing my eyes.

“If I may prompt the next phase of this conversation…” Mr. Tom transferred the coffee to the table, shooting a withering look at the cup on my nightstand, which had blackened fingerprints along the rim, before straightening up. “What is it you were thinking, Cyra?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “When you practice, Miss Ironheart, you batter us with your magic, and you stab at us, but you are doing so against the protective shield you have on us.”

“Otherwise I’d kill you,” I said, eyes still closed, willing patience.

“And you also keep a layer of defense over yourself, since the defensive spells applied to us reflect magic in some cases.”

“Yep.”

“So that’s not good.”

I peeled an eye open, trying to read her face. The supportive expression didn’t relay any additional meaning.

“Why?” I asked.

“Oh yes, I see.” Hollace nodded. “If she’s wasting all that energy trying to keep us and her safe, she’s not putting all her power into the kill shots.”

Cyra bobbed her head. “When this Elliot Graves accepts your rose and is finally in your sights”—she’d watched one too many episodes of The Bachelor—”you won’t be accustomed to working with full power, and you will hold back. It might make the difference between success and failure.”

“Right, except I can’t practice kill shots on people who aren’t protected from them.” I finally sat up, holding the sheets over my chest. “I feel like that’s pretty obvious.”

“Agreed,” Mr. Tom said, crossing behind Cyra and lifting the still-simmering cup of coffee. “We only have two weeks before we go to Elliot’s…residence, or tunnels, or whatever he calls his lair. The time for experimentation is over, if there ever was one. Instead of waking the miss for these types of musings, maybe your time would be better spent harassing the rock-throwing old crone next door into learning more about Elliot’s dwelling. Surely she should’ve uncovered something useful by now.”

I pulled up my knees and dropped my forehead onto them. “Mr. Tom, leave Niamh alone. She has to learn a few decades’ worth of magical politics in a month. She’s doing the best she can. We know roughly the type of…dwelling we’re going into.”

“The inside of a mountain isn’t a great place for a team of fliers,” Hollace said.

“Which is likely the point,” I replied. “As Niamh pointed out. But it’s fine. We’ll bring some of Austin’s people. We’ll be fine.”

“Ah yes, the dreaded fine.” Mr. Tom stepped away. “We will be fine.”

What else was I supposed to say? We’re almost certainly heading to our doom because I’ll only get one chance to take out Elliot, and it’s not going to work because he has decades more experience with just as much or more power. “Fine” would have to do.

“For the first part of training, you should practice your magic on us like usual,” Cyra said. “You’ll need that ability to protect us in battles with mages.” She stepped back. In the process, her boot heel clunked against a glass of water held by a doll with porcelain hands. The doll, knocked off balance, fumbled and spilled the water down its side. More fire shed from Cyra, liquid magma plopping onto the doll’s head. Its plastic brown hair started to melt before its whole head caught fire. It squealed, something I hadn’t known they could do, and then tottered around the floor, flailing its hands.

Great. The last thing I’d needed was more nightmare fuel.

Hollace kicked out as the doll ran by, catching its melting head and sending it rolling across the floor. The rest of the dolls chased after it, water glasses full, slopping most of the water onto themselves before they saved the half of a head it had left.

“This has been a very bad start to the day,” I murmured.

“When you are nearing the end of your training,” Cyra continued, not at all bothered by the pandemonium she had caused, “you will strip all your defenses and attack me with everything you have. You will not give me any kind of alert before you do this. You will attempt to kill me.”

I rubbed my face with my palms. “Except Elliot might be able to block my magic, and then he’ll fight back with power I probably can’t defend against. So it still won’t be like the real thing.”

“I can likely consume a dose of your magic without falling, and my self-preservation instincts will kick in. I will fight back just as fiercely as Elliot Graves would. Either you will be burned half to death before I relent, or I will die.”

“Oh no, Cyra, you mustn’t ask the miss to kill you.” Mr. Tom shook his head gravely. “If Edgar catches wind of this, he’ll start asking her to retire him again. Though after that sunflower debacle last week, I think she should’ve finally given in and shown him mercy.”

“Shown him mercy?” Ulric said with a laugh. “He gave consciousness to a giant sunflower with razor-sharp leaves. Which would have been great if he’d bothered to teach it the difference between friend and foe. That thing cut me up something good. Thank all that could fly that the basajaun was on hand and hungry. I’m not up for messing with weaponized plants. Killing Edgar would’ve been a mercy to us.”

“Yes,” Mr. Tom said. “That has always been a given.”

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced over and caught Austin’s name on the screen.

A thrill of excitement stole my breath.

“Get out,” I said, reaching for it. “Everyone get out of here!”

People and dolls alike spun and headed for the door. They knew the score. I was officially dating the town’s alpha, and the taking-it-slow act was just that: an act. I felt like I was going to combust every time I so much as heard his name.

I was pretty sure the only person I was fooling was myself.

I snatched the phone up like a grinning fool, waited long enough for Mr. Tom to close the door behind him, and swiped to answer the phone.

“Hey,” I said with a gush of breath, my stomach flipping.

“Hey, babe,” he responded, his tone smooth and deep and the term of endearment completely nonchalant. Which was a little crazy considering the guy had planned on being a bachelor for the rest of his life. He’d even resisted the growing attraction between us in the beginning.

But he’d pulled a complete one-eighty one day, and now he had no doubt that forever was knocking on his door. There was no more resisting. No anxiety. He hadn’t had a single freak-out!

He probably figured I’d have enough of them for the both of us.

The shifters were convinced Austin and I were sliding into mating, a sort of permanent bond that magically connected two people, somewhat like the one I had with Ivy House but deeper. And they were probably onto something: with each passing day, my depth of feeling for him increased, my desire ballooned, and my happiness grew.

But I was newly divorced, dang it! New to magic, new to solo home ownership, and new to being the reluctant master of creepy dolls. I couldn’t just hop into another lifelong romantic commitment willy-nilly. I hadn’t even played the field! Austin was technically a rebound, for criminy’s sake. I had to approach all of this logically, which required at least a little freaking out. It required brakes, and if I had to bear down on them for a while, so be it. His infallible confidence could take it. He’d said as much a few times over.

Take as long as you need, Jess. I’ll wait. You will be mine.

I shivered and suddenly couldn’t stand the distance between us. I couldn’t stand to hear his voice but not feel his touch. He needed to be closer. We needed to be closer.

“Do you have a second to FaceTime?” I asked. If I couldn’t do it physically, I’d do it through the Ivy House bond. It would have to be enough.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you back.”

I hung up, bounced around in the bed organizing my pillows, and then lay down, splaying my hair out around my head. His heart throbbed in my chest, next to mine, something that had happened for the first time a couple of weeks ago. It should have felt strange, especially since I’d started life as a non-magical person, a Jane. But it didn’t. It was intimate and comforting.

The phone rang for FaceTime, and I answered, unable to help the excited smile. His handsome face filled the screen, his eyes hooded with fatigue and his hair standing every which way. His head rested against leather, and I imagined he was probably on his couch.

“Did you just get in?” I asked, feasting my eyes on him and enhancing Ivy House’s magical link between us, feeling the answer for myself. I immediately launched into healing his fatigue.

His little grin said that my magical touch was appreciated. “Long night. I had a few direct challenges, one from a very strong shifter, and then a raiding party came through.”

I furrowed my brow. “A raiding party? Like a bunch of Vikings?”

He sighed and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. I loved seeing him like this. At home and on his own (or with me), he was able to be so expressive, unlike when he was in public and donning his “alpha” mask of non-emotion.

“Basically, yeah,” he said. “They roll through and try to grab whatever they can. Or kill whoever they can. Or just create mayhem. It’s pretty standard for a newly established pack to suffer raiding parties. I’d thought I’d be immune, since my brother helped me set this place up and everyone knows I took down a phoenix, but no such luck.”

“Oh. You should’ve let me know—I could’ve helped.”

“Thanks, but it’s good. I used it as a training exercise. It cut into sleep time, though. I have a pretty packed day today. That’s the reason I called.” Frustration bled through the link. “Can you push off training for a few hours so I can stop by before I hit the bar?”

“Or maybe you should use those few hours to get some rest, and I’ll try to kill the phoenix on my own?”

He paused for a moment, and wariness trickled through our link. “Kill the phoenix? Did Cyra do something to piss you off?”

I told him what she’d suggested. “It won’t set us back too much. Apparently her magic is like the gargoyles’—it responds differently when she has an alpha who calls her, and through the link I’ve figured out how to call her. So there won’t be much of a delay training-wise if I’m able to kill her. She’ll regrow to her adult size pretty quick.”

“And if you aren’t?”

“It’ll hurt like the blazes, and I’ll need to drink a half-dozen protein shakes for all the energy I’ll need to heal myself…”

He issued a soft sigh. “If you think you’re up for it… I’d prefer to be there when you try, but…”

“When I succeed, you mean.”

His smile made my heart flutter. “Obviously. I’d prefer if you’d put it off until I can be there. I trust that she won’t go too far, but just in case.”

“You’d prefer it, but you’ll defer to your alpha’s decision?”

Hunger flashed in his eyes. I was the only person in the world who wouldn’t turn him rage-y if I talked about dominating him. Quite the opposite, actually. Bedtime wrestling was sexy as all hell, and I didn’t mind losing. Neither did he.

His voice was low and rough. “If I must…”

I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, catching his gaze.

“Do you have a few minutes?” I asked, then panned the camera down my body, red lace barely covering my flesh. Pushing the covers down more, I dipped my hand between my spreading thighs.

Desire flooded the link. My moan matched his.

“An hour, at least…” His hand drifted south, and through the now extremely sensitive link I could feel our combined passion building higher.

A few moments later, pleasure swept me away, pulsing hard and hot, leaving me wondering how long I could possibly resist the mating bond, and what sort of ritual a female gargoyle enacted once she’d finally chosen a mate.

***

Chapter 2

“Hey, Miss Ironheart.” Kace nodded as he entered the clearing, jet-black five o’clock shadow on his square face to match his hard onyx eyes. He’d come to town with Austin’s brother and stayed on as Austin’s second, his beta. Five grim-faced men and women followed behind him. “Alpha told us to report to you.”

I nodded and glanced over at my team. The gargoyles had shifted into their flying forms—they were stronger like this, in the air or not—but they hadn’t taken to the skies. Elliot’s place seemed to be a collection of tunnels running through a mountain. Any fighting would be ground-bound, so my team had been practicing that way in preparation.

“Just you guys?” I asked, wearing basketball sweats with buttons down the sides in case I had to change shape in a hurry. There were usually twice as many shifters.

“Yeah. He said you’d have plenty to deal with.” Kace stopped in the clearing I usually used for practicing, in the woods behind the house.

I glanced at Cyra, waiting patiently off to the side. I would have plenty to deal with, yes. The second I shot a spell at her, it was on.

I blew out a breath. Austin had barely managed to defeat Cyra, and he’d endured incredible pain. That guy could handle an awful lot without passing out.

I could not.

“Right, then. Let’s do this.” I clapped as Niamh skittered around to my back in her little gremlin form. She was a dirty fighter in any form, but this one, all teeth and claws, still haunted my nightmares. Didn’t matter that she was on my side.

Kace and the shifters stripped with quick economy and changed into wolves, he the brawniest of the bunch. One sleek brown one—Isabelle—had been around a few times before, and she always managed to get through my defenses and tackle me. While my magical shield kept her claws and teeth from finding purchase, she always knocked the wind out of me, and it hurt like Hades when I hit the ground.

My crew and the shifters spread out around me, encircling me. Nervous flutters filled my belly and my small hairs stood on end. God, I hated this. Being surrounded by vicious predators, even though they were my vicious predators, freaked me out every time.

Breathing deeply, staying calm, I slipped a defensive spell on each of them before coating myself in magic twice as strong. Every spell I did would bounce off them and fly back at me, stronger and more potent. My shield would soak it in and store it up. When it came time to knock out Cyra, I’d let loose all of that stored-up energy and hope for the best.

Who was I kidding? I’d probably let it loose and then run like hell. Maybe I should’ve waited for Austin…

Hollace, in his human form, wearing battle leathers and really handy at hand-to-hand combat, offered me a slight nod. Now or never.

I gritted my teeth and hit Kace with a laser beam of magic, using a punch of force that would have blasted a hole through his body if he hadn’t been protected. His fierce growl ran up my spine. My magic slapped off his shield, knocking him back. I didn’t want to kill anyone (well, anyone other than Cyra), but I was fine with bashing them around.

The spell zipped back to me as I pushed out another one in an arc, curving it around from my position so it punched into everyone’s shields. Hollace gritted his teeth and took one step back, fighting it, but Ulric flew off his feet and tumbled end over end through the air. Jasper nearly followed, flapping his wings to stay put.

Niamh recovered the quickest, and she was mid-leap by the time I got my hands up again, creating a magical net in the air and spinning her into it. I weighted the spell and spun again, knowing it would drop straight down and she’d have to chew through it, or however she dealt with magic. I never got enough time to watch.

One of the big timber wolves lunged. And then another, and another. I slammed them out of the way, barely able to do spells fast enough to keep them off me. A jet of fire hit my shield from the side and heat bled through my world, so potent that it singed my hair.

I jogged away, sending a cooling blast at Cyra. But I had yet to master elemental magic, and the blast only neutralized her fire instead of countering it. A furry body hit me from the side. Freaking Isabelle!

I flexed my shield, using some of the accumulated magic to blast her off. Then I sent another repulsion spell at the shifters and a wall of blistering pain at the gargoyles, who were advancing much less gracefully than their shifter counterparts. Little clawed hands grabbed my leg, and I just barely caught sight of a gaping mouthful of razor-sharp teeth ready to chomp down before I quickly released more stored magic at Niamh.

Sweating now, I redoubled my efforts, blasting Kace away, keeping Hollace at bay, and knocking Nathanial, the newest gargoyle in our crew, backward. Isabelle slunk behind two of her crew, waiting for an opportunity. I spun to fling a bruiser of a spell at the wolves, but a weight banged into the center of my back, shoving me forward. Before I could regroup, a foot sped for my face. Hollace’s.

I yanked my weight backward, seeing the dirt on his sole as it barely missed my face. That would’ve hurt.

I’d arched too far back, though. My bones groaned. My muscles couldn’t hold the awkward position. I tumbled to the ground, and the shifters were on me immediately, pinning me, trying to get at my jugular.

Fear overwhelmed me, the primal part of me screaming that they were going for the kill. That if I allowed them at my throat, I was done for. That was the benefit to training like this: I did forget, and it allowed me to fight like I really was struggling for my life.

My gargoyle form exploded out, my wings snapping along the ground, one tweaking painfully against my sweats before the confining material ripped away. Magic ballooned from me, a nasty spell I’d learned from the second Ivy House training book rippling outward from my defensive layer. Furry bodies blasted off me. An acidic gale eroded their protective shields, bearing into them without mercy.

I sprang to my feet, fighting the lingering terror, knowing I had my salvation in my magical arsenal.

I pounded everyone with another nasty spell. The dangerous parts didn’t make it through their shields, but the sheer power battered them around the field. Niamh was up first, never down for long, and I sent a magical explosion her way. I’d always been good at blowing things up. She zoomed sky-high from the concussion, her gremlin form almost comical as it zipped through the treetops. The shifters followed.

Cyra stepped forward, slipping out from behind a tree. I knew immediately that she was on the offensive. She must have decided I might not go for her plan unless she goaded me into it, because it was obvious she didn’t intend to wait for a surprise attack.

So be it.

I yanked all of the others’ protective shields away, leaving only mine. Power surged through me, like I was a ship freed from an anchor.

Cyra bent a little and brought her hands together, readying what I knew would be a thick stream of white-hot magma. She wasn’t pulling any punches.

Watching Austin fight her, I’d worried for his life. I’d forged my blood bond with Ivy House after months of hesitating, in the hopes that it would make me powerful enough to intervene and help him. He hadn’t needed me in the end, and although I’d thought it remarkable that he’d defeated such a strong adversary without any help, I hadn’t realized how remarkable. It turned out Austin was the only shifter in recorded history to have dominated a phoenix. Learning he’d knowingly risked his life for me, again, had nearly made me throw up (I’d ignored the primal part of me that had been incredibly turned on).

Now it was my turn. Cyra was one of the most powerful beings in the magical world. Would I measure up?

She pushed her hands forward, sending forth a thin stream of glowing red and white flame that shed smoke as it cut through the air. I fortified my shield with everything I had, as much power as I could wrap around myself.

Her magic hit my shield like a Mack truck. The point of contact couldn’t be larger than the head of a pin, but she’d condensed a staggering amount of power into it. Flame coughed out at the point of contact and black smoke drifted up.

I gritted my teeth and took a step forward, which seemed counterintuitive, but I felt the need to take some sort of action, and stepping back was not an option. Her magic burrowed into my defensive spell, incredibly potent. Cyra shook with the effort, her thin brows low and her jade eyes focused.

A surge of emotion welled up through the link. Austin clearly sensed what was happening and was sending his encouragement.

I held firm, taking another step forward. Ready for my turn. Ready to attack.

“Rip her magic away,” Hollace yelled, watching from the sidelines, holding his injured arm. “Don’t let her sap your strength—fight back!”

“I don’t know how—”

Cyra tore away the magical magma and blasted a thick stream of fire at me, like a flamethrower. I sucked in a breath, ignoring my fatigue, and soaked in the magic. The flames looked terrifying, but they weren’t anywhere close to touching me. A moment later the magical magma was back, the pinprick focus digging into my shield. She was mixing it up to throw me off guard. Apparently she thought I had enough versatility to do more than doggedly focus on my best shield. Joke was on her.

This blast didn’t make it any deeper than the first. I could withstand her most powerful magic.

I would’ve rejoiced if she didn’t rip the spell away and sprint at me.

“Oh crap—”

She slammed into me, flash-heating the air around us and knocking me to the ground. I couldn’t feel the heat on my skin, my defensive spell soaking it in, but I could definitely feel her fingers wrapping around my throat.

I supercharged my defensive layer, which was incredibly potent from all the power she’d fed me. The spell pulsed, turning red as it did, and zapped every square inch of her body where it was in contact with mine. She convulsed against me, but her hands were still wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air. I pulsed my power again, then fed a mini-explosion into my defensive layer, trying to force her off.

Her grip tightened around my neck, holding on. Black dots swam in my vision. Surely she wouldn’t kill me on purpose, and yet… I wasn’t sure she had a handle on herself. I wasn’t sure she would remember to let go.

Fear kindled within me. Her focus on ignoring her pain was so acute that her eyes were closed. Air dried up in my lungs, no more coming through my closed-off throat.

No one was coming to help me.

With Austin across town, maybe no one could.

I released a hand from around her wrist and reached for my pocket, for my knife Cheryl, but claws raked across my side. I’d changed into my gargoyle form and completely forgotten about it. I had claws! Why wasn’t I using my claws?

Blackness clouded my vision, my head light. A rush of dark rage rose through me, fueling my resolve. I punched my claws into her stomach, piercing flesh. She groaned but didn’t relent. I ripped down, opening thick, messy gashes that spilled blood down on top of me. Still she held on. This woman was tenacious. I punched into her chest next, then her neck, ripping to one side. The sickly gash that opened up would’ve killed a human. She merely flinched, one hand losing strength and nearly reaching for her neck.

It was all the leeway I’d get.

I knocked her weak hand off my throat, pried the second one away, and then shoved her back. As I did, I hit her with another punch of magic that blasted her up and off.

Throat bruised, breathing ragged, I hopped onto my feet. Pulling up every ounce of power I possessed, I sent my own thin slice of magic, the nastiest spell in the Ivy House library. It cut through the air, straight for her. Her eyes widened and she poofed into her phoenix form and spread her mouth wide to catch the spell. She swallowed the spell, and I immediately sent another. This one was weaker—exhaustion was setting in—but hopefully still strong enough to beat her down.

But it didn’t have the chance. Before the next spell could reach her, she squeaked and then burst into flames, falling into a pile of smoldering ash.

The second, and now unnecessary, blast of magic continued past her, heading straight for the basajaun, who’d snuck in at some point, as if taking in a matinee movie. He was hunkered down in the tree behind the phoenix, a terrible location to watch the fight.

He dove out of the way before I could do more than holler, “Loork oww-t!”

My spell crashed into the large pine and blasted a hole into the trunk. Wood crackled and the tree shivered. I held my breath, wondering if it was going to come down. Silence descended on us, everyone else clearly wondering the same thing. Loud pops and crackles preceded the tree shaking, starting to lean, gaining speed.

“Get out of the way!” Hollace yelled, running for me.

Nathanial got there first, wrapping his arms around my middle. His powerful wings beat at the air, and we darted skyward, gravity ripping at us, the speed thrilling. The pine fell, but we were already up over the treetops, still gaining altitude.

“Phoe-nix kii-llerr,” Nathanial said in my ear, his speech within his gargoyle form amazing, his pride unmistakable.

I wanted to tell him that she’d nearly been the victor, to ask why they’d all sat watching while she nearly strangled me, but it would’ve been too arduous with my gargoyle mouth. I’d chastise everyone later. Instead, I relaxed in his grip, pointed at the open horizon, and said, “Fll-y.”

He altered his hold to be more comfortable and then shot out into the big blue horizon, the others joining us in no time.

I had enough power and perseverance to take down a phoenix.

Cyra didn’t fight dirty, though, and a lot of mages did. Elliot surely would. If I gave him the opportunity. Which was why I intended to hit him with my most powerful spell the second he was in my sights.

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