Eight people made the living room a bit crowded, but the two covens present had shared the space cosily and cheerfully with a third coven and a couple of solitaries so many times that they hardly noticed. Bane sprawled in one of the chairs, his older brother Bryan sitting on the floor at his feet and leaning against the chair arm. Deanna and Cynthia shared the couch with blind witch Naomi, whose broad hips and large breasts combined with her long walnut-brown hair and fondness for full skirts made Bryan teasingly nickname her his peasant wench. The grey husky Gwyn who served as Naomi's eyes lay at her feet, to all appearances an ordinary contented dog—despite his mysterious origins as a gift from Bryan's absent roommate Samantha, whose origins were equally mysterious. Kevin lay on the floor, his oldest and favourite cousin Lori between him and Flynn, all three on such a mass of blankets woven earlier by the two mages from the fading sunlight that it would have made a comfortable mattress.
Even watching a movie was more fun this way, Kevin thought. The good-natured discussion did mean that sometimes it had to be paused for a bit, but the varying perspectives of his friends always fascinated Kevin—how people who were so close, and spent so much time together, could have such diverse viewpoints.
“Pause,” Flynn said suddenly. Lori glanced at him, and the VCR paused itself. Kevin's first thought was that Flynn needed a bathroom break or a moment to stretch, or possibly a refill from the array of drinks and munchies spread on the coffee table, but the thought vanished instantly when he finally picked up how serious his seer coven-mate was.
“What's wrong?” Bryan asked, probably catching Flynn's mood by scent.
Flynn shook his head. “I don't know, but something is. I can't quite get a grip on it, but it's really nagging in the back of my mind.”
“Then let's circle and see if we can give you enough of a boost to get a fix on it,” Naomi said practically. “Someone shove the table out of the way.”
The ring wasn't technically round, working within the space limitations, but it was good enough for all eight to be within hand-clasping range of those on either side. Deanna and Cynthia, working together with the ease of familiarity, cast a circle around them to contain any energy raised and protect them from outside energy; to Kevin's senses, it was clearly visible as a glowing rainbow line against the russet carpet, as easy to see as the webwork of strands that bound a coven together in or out of circle.
Hands linked all the way around, and Lori led them through a simple exercise they all knew well and used often, one to lower barriers and allow personal energy to flow into a common pool. Kevin tested it automatically, analysing and identifying the various sources: varied innate natures and learned skills, the true best strength of any mixed coven—or better still, more than one. The two wolves were part of it, wild and primal, but had little to add; this simply wasn't within their own abilities. Brilliant with fire and sunlight, his own gifts and Lori's were the most dramatic and, strictly speaking, the most powerful, though that came at a cost: they were restricted to that element only. Naomi and Cynthia's came from a soul-deep connection to all the elements, though Cynthia's strongest affinity was with air, and being inside, air's pale colours were much weaker than he'd seen them outside; Naomi's inclination was towards earth, especially with plants, and while its greenish-dark tones were more muted now than they were in warmer seasons, it nonetheless surged up into the circle with all the quiet vibrancy of spring growth. Deanna's own bond to the earth was very different, not so useful for summoning or manipulating power, but it ran deep as the roots of a tree and could ground and stabilize it at even very high levels. Flynn's contribution was a more subtle shimmer that danced into bright sparkles each time his inner sight gave him another bit of information—and currently, the sparkles were a cascade, surging and ebbing without ever entirely fading.
“Something's certainly trying to get through to you,” Kevin observed. “What would you like to try first? Your cards?” It was a safe bet that Flynn had his cards somewhere on his person; they were rarely out of his reach.
Flynn nodded, brought them out of somewhere, shuffled them, and handed them to Bryan. “Pick one, then give them to Cynthi.”
When they finished, there were eight cards chosen. Flynn took them, kept them in order, and started laying them face up in a matching circle before him on the carpet.
A wolf in silhouette, howling at the full moon. A skull. A simple pentagram of five lines in a circle, black on white. A grinning gargoyle, its hide a muddy brown-green, crouched with wings spread and claws extended. A tangle of thorny vines and bright roses. An androgynous elf standing in the midst of a rainbow halo of light, hands raised. A pair of crossed swords. A serpent coiled in an infinity symbol.
“Oh, hell,” Flynn breathed. “We've got lack of hope, magic, a predator involved, protection from a threat, conflict… Generally, kids, someone is in deep trouble and needs help.” He gazed at the layout for a moment, his eyes only half focused. “And y'know, I suspect that it's probably Jesse. We haven't seen him in a couple of months, and he hasn't even phoned in almost three weeks, but there's still enough of a connection there that it would make sense for me to pick up on serious danger—say, a predator. And that unfinished business card I keep getting whenever I try readings on him is in there, and the Wolf with it.”
“Well, what do we do?” Bane asked impatiently. Kevin doubted Bane cared about Jesse's wellbeing specifically, but protective behaviour came naturally to the wolves, and he suspected Bane had classified Jess as Kevin's pet project. Besides, a predator stalking a wolf, even one unaware and possibly permanently unable to change, would feel too much like an intolerable insult to wolves in general.
“I think we need a bit more info on the current situation before we go charging off to the rescue.” Flynn gathered his cards together, but kept them cradled loosely in his hands as he closed his eyes, sat up straighter, and slowed his breathing. Kevin watched the sparkles accelerate into a dazzling display of rainbow fireworks as Flynn's concentration deepened, swirling into the currents of power linking the circle and using that power to spread outside in a broad misty stream, towards the south.
The others waited patiently. Kevin and Lori were at a distinct disadvantage, with neither sunlight nor moonlight available, not even any reason earlier in the day to collect and store as much as possible. The witches, and especially Naomi, compensated for it, feeding power into the common pool, where the mages could monitor the currents and Deanna, simply by being Deanna, kept it steady and stable. The wolves stayed alert, ready for their chance to act when or if that came.
Flynn's violet-grey eyes opened, but they were fixed on something far away.
“Oh no… that's definitely a predator, and it's definitely stalking Jesse…”
“What can we do?” Kevin demanded.
“Working on it,” Flynn said distantly. “Right now, put all the power you can behind wishing him luck.”
* * *
Jesse scanned the street and the people moving about in the glow of the streetlights, sighed, and leaned back against the wall. By the clock on the church tower, it was past eight-thirty, Shaine was supposed to meet him here ages ago. He could be late for any of a number of reasons; Jess just hoped it wasn't trouble, and that he wouldn't be much longer.
“Hey, there.” A low voice, a man's. Jesse looked towards it—and froze. There was nothing visible to mark him, just a generally average brown-haired man of middle years in a sport jacket and blue jeans. Even past the city's background of odours, the stranger was close enough for Jesse to pick up his scent, and something about it was just not right, though it was nothing he could put a name to. Every instinct screamed Danger! at him and his skin crawled at the thought of those hands touching him.
“Yeah?” he said curtly.
“Up for a good time?”
“Nah. Just hangin' around waiting for a friend.”
“I could be a friend.”
“A particular friend, thanks.” He left the corner, and moved down half a block. That should take care of it.
He was followed.
“I don't like being turned down,” the man said, menace in the softness of his voice.
“That's your problem, not mine.” He moved again. Not too uncommon, this problem; his appearance was a mixed blessing, and a definite curse in a situation like this. No one seemed to believe that five-foot-five and one-twenty-five pounds of good-looking teenager could be any danger. Fighting was best avoided, since it led to trouble.
The little voice in the back of his mind urging him to stand and fight, he dismissed as some sort of death-wish, and a particularly stupid one at that.
The stranger followed again.
“Would you get off my fucking case?” Jesse snapped. “Not interested.” He evaded an overly familiar hand, decided to give up and clear out.
The man kept an even distance of about twenty feet between them, down the street.
Okay, other methods. Jesse's first rule: never look like you were running, someone would usually assume you were guilty, just on principle. Second rule: to lose someone, find people.
He found a store, one of a half-dozen close together, ducked inside, and made his way to the back where he couldn't be seen from the door. Height became an advantage: he effectively disappeared behind a tall magazine rack. Just for the sake of looking like he had a reason to be there, he picked up a magazine at random to glance through. Nothing he saw really registered; nervously, he replaced it on the rack, and wandered towards the front of the store. On a hunch, he glanced back, and his guts tied themselves into tight knots. The same man. Just reaching the magazine rack now.
Lucky. Jesse would've been right there waiting for him.
How in hell was he going to get out of this mess?
Fight him, whispered that little voice again, more urgently. It was no less moronic an idea now than it had been the last time he'd dismissed it.
He passed a driveway between two buildings, the taller of which he knew had apartments on the upper floors, and backtracked quickly, praying. A handy fire escape... yes! Agility was a bonus here; there was a large garbage bin close enough. All he had to do, tricky though it was in the poor light, was balance on the edge of the bin and reach over to grab the ladder. It came down with a groan, and he scrambled up and jerked it up after him. He was at the third story of five when his pursuer reached the bin. He looked up; Jesse looked down, frozen by sudden fear.
Watch him be an acrobat or something.
But he didn't even try to get up the fire escape; he turned and left in the direction of the street.
Jesse breathed a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was watching out for him, and finished the climb to the roof. With any luck there'd be another way down, yes, a fire escape on the opposite side. He climbed down into a different space, a cramped narrow parking lot, and looked around in case he'd been anticipated. All was quiet. He took a deep breath to calm himself, relieved.
Someone reached out of deeper shadows and grabbed his arm; another hand traced a line down his spine.
Jesse wrenched away and bolted. Being assumed guilty had just become secondary to being caught. Anyone so persistent had to have some way of making Jesse come with him, and he'd heard horror stories from more experienced acquaintances about some of those ways. After a few blocks he stopped to catch his breath, and glanced back. No sign.
Good. Should he circle back to where Shaine would be waiting for him, or go to ground somewhere for a while, just in case?
“Have you ever heard the expression, the thrill of the chase?”
Leaning casually against a pole, almost directly in his path, the same man gave him a smile that showed too many very white teeth.
“How the fuck...” Jesse didn't bother to finish the thought; heart pounding, he spun and fled back the way he'd come. A glance over his shoulder without stopping, narrowly avoiding running into a woman coming the other way, showed that man following at a sedate pace.
He's a Bad Thing, insisted the little voice inside. Dangerous to you, dangerous to everyone. Stop running and fight!
Against someone who does impossible shit? Oh, just shut UP and stop distracting me!
* * *
“Oh, damn,” Flynn said, sending a ripple through the intense concentration on willing fortune to work in Jesse's favour. “That's one of the higher ones. It's playing mind-games with him right now.”
Bane growled softly, and Bryan tensed visibly. Kevin and Lori, who had too much experience with occasional predators deciding that they were tempting enough to be worth the risks, winced in unison.
“Try to lure it away from him and to here?” Naomi suggested. “That would be simpler than a gate there, and would need less of a focus and less power. Could Jesse's nerves take that, do you think?”
“I doubt Jess could survive that, let alone avoid further nerve damage,” Cynthia said with a sigh. “Otherwise, that would be worth a try.”
“If Jess could handle that, he probably wouldn't need help with a predator,” Deanna agreed ruefully.
“Can you get me a clear fix?” Kevin asked.
“I'm trying,” Flynn said. “There's a lot of loss over this distance.”
Naomi nodded. “All right. Then let's see how much power we can gather up for you to use, hm?” Kevin felt her dig deeper, felt a surge in the flow coming directly from the earth below them; Lori, more used to her coven-mate, caught and channelled it neatly into the shared currents with scarcely a perceptible wave. Kevin gathered together as much as he could from the collected pool, grateful that he wasn't going to have to build a gate simply from his own reserves.
Silence, while seconds ticked into minutes, and the connection between Flynn and Jesse grew narrower and more dense.
* * *
Jesse zigzagged along the busiest routes available, figuring it would be harder for anyone to force anything with enough other people around. He needed to loop back around to where this started, and see if Shaine were there yet; with any luck, he not only would have arrived by now, but wouldn't assume Jesse wasn't coming and leave. While people tended not to find Jesse at all intimidating, the same couldn't be said about Shaine, and Jesse knew of nothing that had ever thrown him off-stride.
If he could just get there. He saw that same man again, in front of him, this time leaning against a parking meter, watching him with that smile, and detoured without slowing to cut through an unfortunately quiet walkway between two old buildings. His pursuer was somehow, impossibly, on the other side as well, blocking his exit. Jesse doubled back, hit the main street, and made it nearly back to where this had started before seeing him again—this time, stepping apparently out of thin air directly in front of Jesse, so close that Jesse stumbled to avoid running into him. He darted across the street, ignoring the honking horns, but kept going the same direction.
How the fuck did he do that?
How the fuck do I get away from someone who can do that?
Adrenaline was only going to go so far; he was already out of breath, heart thumping painfully hard. This enemy was simply going to wear him down and pick him off at will when he could no longer run.
But how could he fight back? Could Shaine help against this threat, anyway?
That annoying little voice inside told him that no, Shaine was no better able to fight this battle than anyone else in the city was. Except Jesse himself.
Which should he do? Get into the middle of a crowd and hope that would protect him long enough to catch his breath and think of something? But if his enemy could get close to him, extra bodies around him would be no safety, and that annoying voice yammered that it would put more people at risk.
An ambush, then? Get behind the businesses into the shadows, find anything he could use as a weapon, even if it was just a glass bottle?
It was worth a try. Continuing to run wasn't an option.
He spotted a driveway that he knew linked to the space behind a shoe store and a clothing store and a small drug store, and veered down it. Sawdust-scent, chemical-scent, metal-tang, someone had been doing work, maybe on one of the apartments above the businesses. That might be promising for finding something he could use. He slowed to a stumbling walk, headed for a more-or-less neat stack of what might be lumber or plumbing or both against one wall, near a back door.
This time, the hand groped his ass, and he had the eerie feeling that he was feeling skin-on-skin with no insulation by the denim that should be between.
He spun around with his full weight behind his right fist, a response too instinctive even to allow time to grab his keys to add to the impact.
His tormentor, with no apparent effort, no reaction at all to the force behind it, seized hold of Jesse's right hand in his own and squeezed. Jesse was sure he felt a joint pop, thought he cried out, but the pain was so bad it all blurred together. He felt pressure, the pain increasing as the other twisted his hand backwards, and his legs buckled without conscious thought; he barely registered the sensation of his knees striking the pavement, with the whole world a white blur centred on his trapped hand.
* * *
“C'mon, c'mon,” Flynn muttered. “We're running out of time, here... I'm so close but so's the predator.”
“Anchor?” Kevin prompted, knowing very well that it was useless to ask and Flynn was already doing his best. “I'll drag him back here through it if I have to.”
“Not necessary,” Bane said, standing up and stretching. As often as they could get away with it, wolves wore magesilks, which meant he didn't even need to waste time taking off clothes. Bryan followed suit only a heartbeat later, always right behind his brother and pack leader.
Kevin stood up, too, and felt Lori reach out to re-balance the power currents to accommodate motion. Whether the circle would hold across long distance was distinctly uncertain; he took what he could, while he could, just in case he lost connection. At least the combination of coven-bonds and Lori's presence provided a sort of insurance: she could create a gate to get him and the wolves back here if necessary, though using another mage's gate always felt a bit uncomfortable.
“You're safer here,” Bane objected. “We'll have to protect you, too.”
“I'm coming,” Kevin said flatly.
“I think Kev needs to be there,” Flynn said. “He didn't pull the mage card just to gate you two there and back.”
Bane sighed, shrugged, and his body began to blur around the edges, turning all over the dark brown of semi-sweet chocolate. In seconds, a huge shaggy wolf shook himself, and looked expectantly at Flynn and Kevin.
Bryan, in wolf-form, was a little smaller, more the colour of milk chocolate than Bane's darker fur. Together, they were an intimidating sight.
“Hold on,” Flynn said distantly. “Almost got it… there! Here, take it.” Kevin knew without being told, as the sparkling stream snapped itself tightly together into a cord that stretched off towards the south. Kevin reached along it, and found the other end. Clear and precise, more than enough so for him to build a gate safely and with minimal effort. Well, as minimal as effort could be across that much distance.
“Be careful,” Naomi said softly.
“Always.” Kevin gestured with both hands; a bright gate swirled into being, woven of moonlight and will. The interior cleared, leaving only the frame and a flimsy curtain of coloured light.
“You've got it,” Flynn said.
Bane darted through, Bryan on his heels; Kevin was right behind both, and as he stepped through, the gate vanished.
* * *
Patrick Lucian raised his head, all senses alert, straining to discover what it was that had just caught his attention. He spotted the brilliant glow of an elvenmage's power, and a strong one at that, fading in bright ripples. And now he could sense, faintly, the presence of another mage where a moment before there had been none.
Now that's interesting.
He abandoned the remains of his luxurious supper, cloaked himself in illusion that changed his sun-tawny hair dark and his fair skin to a deep brown, and simply walked out of the restaurant without stopping to pay. Outside, he released the illusion, paused briefly to orient himself, and started to walk in the direction of the shimmer of magic, toying with speculations.
* * *
Oh my god, I'm going to pass out, don't do that, DON'T!
As though that would make Jesse significantly more helpless than he was right now, with the pressure on his hand making his back arch as his body struggled to find some kind of relief.
His tormentor spat something that sounded like a curse, though it was unfamiliar, and suddenly Jesse's trapped hand was free. He scrambled backwards fast, not caring what he hit, his vision still full of red and black starbursts.
“Damn those wolves,” the stranger snarled. He brushed past Jesse as though he were of no further importance at all. Not in the direction of the street, but deeper into the back spaces, where there was another small access area and a driveway out the other side.
Sobbing for breath, his damaged hand cradled close to his body, Jesse staggered to his feet.
A cool arm slid around him, made him jerk away briefly until the scent reached him. Familiar, safety. Shaine. He looked up, blinking tears out of his eyes. As tall as Kevin, though even slenderer. Light-skinned, pale-blonde, uncut hair held out of blue eyes with a blue bandanna. Somewhat Jesse's senior, though by how much he'd never let slip.
“What the hell...? No, never mind, tell me later. I'll look at your hand at home.” He glanced past Jesse, then shook his head. “I don't even want to know. Come on.”
“How'd you find me?”
“Walk.” Shaine's arm around him urged him into motion. “At least half a dozen people told me they saw you running from something they couldn't see and you looked freaked. Obviously not a bad trip. Move. Home. Now.”
* * *
Kevin faced the predator, much more calm outwardly than he felt inwardly, especially without the reassuring strength of the circle to reinforce his own; the severing of the connection as the gate closed had been distinctly uncomfortable. The wolves flanked him on either side, both crouched with teeth bared and hackles raised, ready to attack. At least Jesse and his friend were leaving. “Back off,” he said coldly. “These two are both under protection of Coven Sundark and our friends.”
The other laughed, mockingly; Kevin blessed the fact that it was standing near enough to a metal-caged light over a back door that he could see it. “A pretty name. It has to be a children's coven.” Its appearance rippled again, to a much less ordinary man. This one looked perhaps thirty, darkly beautiful... if one could overlook the pointed teeth and clawed hands and eyes that were the flat black of oblivion, without iris or white. “The dark one should be quite a treat. To be able to have one who normally could fight me... delicious.”
“You'll have to go through us. I told you, they're under our protection.”
“Perhaps I'll have you first. Your silly little coven-link only protects against the lesser ones, you know.” It sauntered forward, reached towards Kevin.
Bryan snapped at the offending hand; had the predator's reflexes been less quick, he might have removed it altogether.
Kevin prayed that the wolves didn't have to fight; this predator was vastly unlike the nuisances he was familiar with, dangerous to the gifted but easily dealt with by a wolf.
Bane, his ears flat against his skull, advanced, snarling. An angry two-hundred-pound wolf was an intimidating creature; all the more so since his long dense fur, thickest around his neck, made him look still larger. Bryan angled his own approach to one side, to make it harder for it to track both at once.
The predator hesitated, fell back a step as though involuntarily, then another. Kevin thought it looked undecided.
It decided. It shifted its own shape to that of a tiger, grave-black stripes on the rusty-brown of dried blood, and lunged at Bryan.
He slipped agilely out of its way, and Bane attacked it from behind, teeth tearing a long scarlet stripe too shallow to hamstring it; it whipped around, hissing.
Kevin retreated so he had his back against the cool stability of a wall, watching the battle, switching alternately through various kinds of sight in order to keep track of it as they moved in and out of the light.
The wolves made a smooth team: one would distract it from in front while the other made an assault from the rear, then, when it turned, they traded roles. Claws raked down Bane's ribs, not deeply, but enough to make him yelp in pain; the yelp became a growl, and he circled around it, looking for an opening. Bryan ghosted in and was gone again before the tiger even had time to realize he'd scored another wound, just behind its ribs and low on its side. It spun around to go after him, chased him a few feet, and swiped at him with one huge forepaw; it connected with Bryan's shoulder, but the heavy fur deflected the worst of the damage. The blow knocked him off his feet, though, and the tiger paced towards him. Bane seized its tail in his jaws and crunched down, getting its attention and giving Bryan a heartbeat's time to find his feet and get out of reach.
Kevin reflected that it was obviously unused to dealing with multiple opponents: it allowed itself to be too easily distracted. The brothers, on the other hand, had a lifetime of teamwork behind them.
Bane, by skill or luck or more likely both, seized a foreleg in his jaws when it came sweeping towards him again. The sheer power pulled him off-balance, but he held on. Nothing Kevin knew of could make a werewolf let go unwillingly; the force of their grip was legendary in the mixed-race villages. The tiger, with rumbling growls of rage, snapped at him and shook its trapped foreleg.
Bryan slid up beside it, closed his teeth on the back of its neck, and bit down with his full strength.
The tiger made an untigerlike squeal, and went limp.
The wolves released it, and Bane sniffed at it to make sure it was dead.
It was: it faded to transparent, then vanished altogether. Back to whatever non-physical plane it came from.
Bane shook himself, gave his wounded side a few quick licks, then turned his attention to Bryan. Reassured that he was all right, he looked up expectantly at Kevin.
“Hold on. I know the usual predators wouldn't dare touch Jesse if they found him at all, and that the greater ones are rare... but I think I know a way to hide them magically. It won't hold forever, but maybe by then Jess'll heal enough to take care of himself. If we're really lucky, it might even protect Jess from ambient power so if he comes back to Haven, it won't hurt him. Are you okay for a few minutes?”
*Perfectly fine,* Bane assured him. Being a telepath was useful, Kevin reflected; it must be frustrating for wolves to be in a coven lacking one. *Nothing Gisela or Liam can't fix for us. Do what you can, I'd rather not repeat this. Moonwolf and Horned God, what a fight...* He didn't sound distressed, more satisfied.
Kevin turned his attention to tracking Jesse and his friend. He found them mentally, and followed them undetected with the wolves keeping pace docilely on either side. In the darker areas between streetlights, he tangled a hand in the long thick fur of Bane's ruff, trusting the wolf to keep him from walking into anything.
The pair stopped at a house, circled around to the side to unlock a door, and he heard a deadbolt snap shut behind them.
Something tickled the back of his mind; he scanned the street intently, looking for heat patterns. An elf, to show a body temperature that hot; a mage, to have cast an illusion of absence that could keep the wolves from noticing; not a strong one given how effortlessly Kevin had seen through it. And he or she was watching Jesse and his friend with far too much interest.
“Mage,” he murmured. “Across the street. I don't like how intent he is on Jess.”
*I know how to handle mages.* Bane growled aloud, low in his throat, a warning.
“I know you do.” Kevin collected power from the city lights around him, though it was a poor substitute for sunlight or moonlight or true firelight, and tossed it in the direction of the other mage. It landed neatly at the other mage's feet and shattered, the shards coalescing into a fiery phoenix visible only to mage-sight, the sparks dancing off the feathers spelling out his name.
* * *
Patrick recoiled sharply, then turned a dark look at the source of the flashy challenge. A Lioren; it figured, arrogant bunch that they were, so certain they ruled the mixed villages by right of strength.
The mage across the street glowed with power as though it were the sun itself he wore like a cloak of light, almost eclipsing the heat-image of his presence. Patrick scowled. Worse, it was all his own, not so much as a trace of any kind of outside power tingeing it anywhere.
What right had this Lioren to such dazzling brilliance, when he himself had been born with scarcely enough of the mage-gift to be noticeable?
He'd found ways to even the odds, however, and if this braggart thought to meddle with his life, he'd learn that quickly.
*Excuse me.* The mindvoice dropped into his head with the clarity of diamond, precise and calm. *Do you mind? The two you're looking at are under the protection of my coven, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd just forget they exist.*
Under the protection of a coven? Both of them? The fairer one was simply human with no hint of power, hardly worth wasting any effort on. The darker one, on the other hand, intrigued him. A wolf, with such heavy damage psychically that any touch of magic would be sure to be unpleasant for him... how had he gotten into such a state?
Curiosity wasn't really worth a fight, was it?
Curiosity alone, no, but the tone of that Lioren mage's voice was another matter.
He snatched up the lingering power from the phoenix image, rewove it into a dragon of crimson and saffron and sooty black, and flung it back violently.
*You do not command me,* he hissed. *Mind your tongue.*
The Lioren mage's shock was so strong that it spilled over before being firmly reined in.
*I asked nicely,* the other said evenly, after a moment's silence. *I'm asking politely once more. They are under Coven Sundark's protection, and if need be we will fight, although I would prefer not to.*
*I do as I please! If I want that crippled little wolf to study, I'll have him!*
*He's not crippled!* The shout made him flinch in discomfort, laced as it was with hot blinding anger and no more controlled than a shotgun blast. Patrick cried out, in outrage and surprise as much as in pain, and hastily flung shields around himself. The effort made his breath catch, as nerves damaged by the attack protested, but he willed them strong and steady.
Want to fight, do you?
He pulled at the light of the streetlamps and coiled it into a tightly focused whip, bound into that form by his own fury. Viciously, he lashed it outwards across the vacant street, to flay the upstart where he stood.
It snapped against glassy-smooth shields, which scarcely trembled, then far too much happened far too quickly.
The shields winked out. Patrick blinked, tried to trace where the power used in those shields had gone, but there was no sign of it... surely no one could draw that much power back into himself so quickly without damage?
Something seized the whip, jolting him roughly out of his distraction, to discover that the Lioren mage had coiled the whip's far end around his wrist and was holding it firmly.
What in all the hells...
No more than three rapid heartbeats after the disappearance of the shields, a scorching flood of sheer raw power surged back along the whip, forcing the flow of his own magic into reverse before it, pouring into him.
For the space of another three fast heartbeats, he realized just how dizzyingly high a tolerance for power the Lioren mage had and the utter ecstasy of it, then it collapsed into the shrieking pain of severe backlash shock. Only distantly was he aware of it when the power flow abruptly reversed again. He swayed, and stumbled backwards to lean against a wall, trembling.
*Leave. Him. Alone.* Each word came out tightly, with anger and deadly power coiled behind it.
“You've made yourself an enemy,” Patrick snarled aloud.
“So be it,” said the cool light voice from across the street. “Just don't touch our friends.”
He held still, watching, while the Lioren mage built shields around the dark little wolf and his companion. Clever shields, too, deftly created to deflect both detection and active magic, the shields themselves subtle and near invisible unless one knew where to look—designed to shunt senses and magic away, not counter them directly.
Light swirled and gathered into a gate; against it, he saw the silhouette of the Lioren mage and the two wolves flanking him, then they vanished through it, and the gate imploded neatly.
Showoff! No mage should be able to walk after pulling that, let alone be capable of gating!
Livid with humiliation and rage, he drew himself together and went in search of a place to sleep... one he'd have to pay for, he realized in disgust. His gifts would be of no use to him for some time to come. He didn't dare even summon his allies; in this condition, he'd be easy game for them.
I'll find you, Lioren and you'll regret ever starting this! Next time I'll be ready for you!
* * *
“Here they come,” Flynn warned, a heartbeat before Kevin's familiar gate coalesced in the centre of the circle to bring the trio home. Kevin sank to his knees in front of Deanna and buried his face in her shoulder, shivering.
Deanna wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close. “What happened?”
The wolves shifted calmly to human, and Cynthia and Naomi moved quickly to examine what wounds they had.
“Mage-fight,” Bane said.
“I lost my temper,” Kevin said, pressing close against Deanna miserably. “He wasn't very strong at all, I backlashed him, might have burned him out completely, I don't know if I managed to pull it back fast enough...” He looked up at her, tears in his eyes, but couldn't find any more words.
“He was threatening Jesse,” Bryan pointed out reasonably. “It's not like you just pounced him for no reason and with no warning.”
“I still shouldn't have lost control!”
“Kev,” Cynthia said gently, laying a slim pale hand over Bane's rib-scores; the bleeding gradually slowed, as she hurried the clotting process as much as she could. Not a lot, she was witch, not healer, but enough. “You are nothing like what you were when Dia hauled you away from Rebecca. You've done better than anyone expected at learning how to keep your temper under control, and you've done it much faster. One mistake, under provocation like that, isn't the end of the world.”
“Bryan said you warned him first,” Lori said. “And it's not like he could have been unaware of how strong you are. If he persisted, then he made his own choice and took his chances.”
“I might have burned out his gifts totally. That's kind of a steep penalty for being obnoxious, don't you think?”
“No,” Bane said, unruffled. “I don't. We decided to protect Jesse, and we did. Leave it at that, phoenix. You're tired, most of that power you were using was pure adrenaline and there wasn't much light to back it up. That's making things look worse than they are. Someone take down the circle.”
Deanna simply grounded the raised power directly into the earth, while Cynthia did a hastier than normal thanks-and-dismissal of the summoned elements. As the support of the circle faded, Flynn sagged forward, then let himself sprawl on the carpeted floor, clearly worn out.
“Dia, get Kev to bed?” Cynthia requested. “I'll call Gisela and Liam and then get Flynn into bed. Lori, can you find Kev and Flynn and yourself something to eat? Naomi, can you keep an eye on the wolves and keep doing what you can? You're better at healing than I am anyway.”
Lori headed for the kitchen, and Naomi only nodded, still examining Bryan with witch-senses for other damage. Deanna urged Kevin to his feet and up the stairs to his room.
“Stay?” Kevin said pleadingly, as she swiftly stripped his shirt and jeans off.
“I intended to.” She wriggled out of her own clothes equally quickly.
By then, Lori brought a couple of sandwiches, one of Kevin's home-made brownies and a glass of juice—she said nothing, but the support and reassurance and love she was radiating were clearer than words could have been, between two telepaths. Kevin looked at the food without appetite, but obediently ate, not really tasting it; his rapid metabolism made it too dangerous to sleep without a start on replacing what he'd just used. There was no way Deanna and Lori would let him risk it, regardless of how little he wanted food right now. Only once he'd finished it did Lori leave quietly with the dishes.
Deanna curled up with him in his bed, tucking the blankets around him, automatically making sure that her somewhat cooler body was less completely covered. He snuggled closer, resting his head on her shoulder, still trembling.
“I hurt him bad,” he whispered. “And I attacked first.”
“Shh. Go to sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow.” She stroked a hand lightly, repeatedly, over his hair and down his back. “I know, Kev, I know, but let it be for now, sleep.”
Even with Deanna's comfort, it took him a long time to fall asleep.