Magical Midlife Meeting (Leveling Up #5)(45)

“You also crunch up kids like that. Since, you know, you killed him.”

“He chose his path. He accepted what came. As we all will. It’s been really lovely talking with you, Miss Ironheart. Don’t bother looking for those exits—if you break through the wards, I will know, and you’ll be in a world of hurt.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brochan tense. His fists clenched.

“My goodness,” Elliot said, his gaze slipping to Brochan. “Broken Sue is a good name. His leash will prove faulty. I don’t envy the person who gets on the business end of that wrath.”

“When do I get to see you in person?” I asked him, anger brimming.

He took a step back. “You’ll find out this evening. Goodbye.”

His image vanished.

“He looked like a hologram,” I said, staring at the empty place he’d been standing.

“I wonder if they can use an invisibility potion when they’re like that.” Austin turned, facing me, able to watch both directions of the tunnel out of his peripheral vision. “I couldn’t smell, hear, or sense him.”

“Even if they can’t… They can all do that,” I murmured, starting to walk again. I wanted to see the exit for myself, warded or not. “The high-powered ones can all do it. They can spy without putting themselves in actual danger. Unless there is some sort of risk…” I shook my head. “I’ll need to add that to my list of spells to research, which doesn’t help at the moment because there’s no internet in this godforsaken place.”

“Alpha,” Brochan said, his voice gruff. “I think I was mistaken. When that mage was threatening your mate… I don’t think I have as much control as I thought I did. I might be a danger to your efforts.”

“Understood,” Austin said. I suspected his need to suss that out was the reason he’d brought Brochan with us instead of sending him off with another group.

“Don’t worry about being a danger to our efforts,” I said. “I don’t recall you trying to blast a hologram twice in as many minutes. You’re the least of our problems. I nearly brought the mountain down on us.”

A roar echoed through the tunnel, thick and ferocious. The basajaun ran into view at the other end, his hair puffed out, making him look even larger. He stopped in the center, facing us, and let out another roar. The mountain trembled beneath our feet, as if quaking from the force of his anger.

“Where is the threat?” the basajaun said, looking around wildly. “I felt your blast through the mountain. It quails under your might.”

Niamh and Ulric caught up with him, eyes wide, faces long.

“It’s over,” I said, putting out my hands and glancing behind us down the hall. “Shh. It was a magical trick, basically. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“He crushed someone who barred his way,” Ulric said, breathing hard. “I don’t know if it was friend or foe, but one of the mages has one less person on the payroll.”

“He wasn’t barring the way,” Niamh said. “He was frozen in fear.”

“Well…it comes down to the same thing,” Ulric replied. “He wouldn’t move, and the basajaun doesn’t say please.”

“Jessie, ye might have a problem dealing with that wee hiccup come dinner,” Niamh said. “We weren’t exactly defending ourselves on that one. That was all our fault, so it was. That death is on us.

Without internet, I can’t figure out whose camp he might be in, either.”

I sighed, hands limp at my sides.

“Definitely don’t worry about being a danger to our efforts, Brochan,” Austin said. Dark humor and bewilderment trickled through our link. I fell in step with him toward the supposed exit. “You’d be hard-pressed to even stand out amongst this crew.”

“I’m heading into dinner after insulting one mage and killing the staff member of another,” I murmured as Austin and I took the lead. The dim lighting was somewhat welcome. It felt like I was hiding from my problems in a strange way. “Dinner might just be a grudge match.”

“Let’s just hope that’s all it is.”





SEVENTEEN

MY BRIGHT RED dress covered my shoulders but plunged deep down my neckline. The hem reached the floor, but a large slit worked up my leg to my upper thigh, with the loose fabric flowing around it.

The material was somewhat stretchy, and the dress could be shed in a hurry. It had almost certainly been dreamed up by a straight male designer envisioning his perfect date.

I hadn’t wanted to wear any jewelry, because I didn’t know if I’d have to assume my gargoyle form, but Austin had strongly encouraged me to rethink that stance. In this crowd, wealth and prestige went hand in hand, and he thought I should look the part, as did Mr. Tom and the rest of them, so I gave in.

Austin had chosen a black tux that fit even better than his expensive suit earlier, if that were possible, with a red tie and pocket square that matched my dress and fit with the shifter color code. A watch encircled his wrist, different than the one he’d been given, and his shoes had been polished to a mirror shine.

We walked down the tunnel, my dress swishing around my legs, a sparkly clutch in my hand (courtesy of Mr. Tom, not Elliot Graves’s gift basket) and flat-soled ballerina slippers on my feet. I didn’t care who said what; I could not run in heels, and I was not wearing something I couldn’t fight in. Case closed.