Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem #2)(27)

Pure, primal fear woke up every sensory receptor in my entire body. I pulled the organized mass of magic above me down into the fiber of my being. I gave myself over to it completely, and then—

Fangs scraped my neck.

I let go.

A pure sheen of white rolled over my skin and attached to anything foreign touching my body. It latched on to the vampire’s arm and sizzled acid along its claws. The hard bone under me softened, and the vampire started to wail…then to scream.

Magical spears dug into the vampire as I rolled off it, keeping the monster put while eating it alive. It convulsed and spasmed as a huge hole ripped through its middle. Black goo rose in the cavity, but my magic didn’t let up.

Movement made me yank up my head. The surviving vampires were standing in a cluster on the opposite side of their fallen friend. Behind my magic. That stomach-twisting hunger was still very much pulsing from them, but it was interwoven with a new, unexpected strand. The intention was clear enough: command us.

Yeah, sure. Command you as you are reaching for my neck to cure that hunger. Nice try.

I couldn’t go through them, and something told me they couldn’t cross over to me until the white spell fizzled out. My legs felt shaky, and I knew it was because of the spell I’d just unleashed. If I tried to blast them now, the outcome would be weak and they’d easily take me down. I needed to stall our next confrontation until I got my second wind.

That, or I needed to find another way out.

I turned and sprinted deeper into the house. If I worked around to the other side, I’d hopefully find some servant stairs to the kitchen. Or something. In a house of this size and age, it was definitely a possibility.

The next large room I came to had a path through the center to a large archway, which then led to a hallway. I dashed in before immediately slowing down, my hands held out in anticipation. A quick look told me the room was probably empty. Couches, chairs, coffee table, a large Oriental rug, and a fireplace.

A strange pressure settled on my shoulders and a swish of movement in my peripheral vision had me spinning around.

Silence greeted me in the still room. The shadows seemed to laugh at me.

Warning butterflies stirred in my stomach and that same strange pressure bore down on my chest. I felt the itch of watchful eyes between my shoulder blades.

I was being watched.

But the onlooker wasn’t advancing, and he or she was far enough away that I didn’t feel any foreign magic.

Best not to count my blessings.

Quickening my pace, scanning constantly, I finished crossing the room, emerging into a round area with two hallways leading away, one off to the right, and the other mostly straight ahead, both cloaked in shadow. A painting of a boat hung next to a closed doorway on my left, and a short column supporting a vase of flowers stood just inside the hallway to the right.

I licked my lips, knowing time was limited.

If I stayed straight, I would be heading deeper into the house, toward the side that (I was pretty sure) pushed up against the neighbor’s house. My only chance for escape would be the possibility of servants’ stairs.

The hallway leading right would eventually take me to a wall with windows that led to the outside world. Of course, I was on the second floor, and jumping to my death was not on my agenda.

The only other option was back the way I had come.

I looked behind me.



In the middle of the room I’d just crossed stood a single newbie vampire, a line of spit hanging from its mouth. Its gnarly claws clicked off each other, glistening in the low light.

“Butterballs.” I couldn’t go back.

I had to choose. Two options, and the wrong one might get me killed.





12





Emery stood at the top of a cliff in the Realm, watching magical creatures of all kinds zip past him on the fast-track paths. The elves had set up the system of paths, which magically sped up travel from point A to B, allowing magical creatures to travel through the Realm at high speeds.

Emery sank to the ground and tucked his legs under him, content to watch all the species sail past.

A faerie giggled as she or he—it was hard to tell the fair folk apart from a distance—drifted past. Purple magical dust sparkled and swirled behind her or him, washing into the eyes of a sylph, a species of notoriously ill-tempered air sprites about half the height of humans. The sylph waved his hand in front of him in annoyance, trying to wash away the magical dust before sliding to the side.

Emery let his gaze drift up to take in the other flying creatures, but a cloud of black mist rushed in to disrupt the scene. He went on edge immediately, ready for the premonition that would tell him from which direction the danger would come.

Penny’s beautiful face came into view. Her luminous blue eyes held blind terror and sweat beaded her forehead. She stood at the mouth of a darkened corridor in what looked like a well-appointed house. An oil painting of a small boat in turbulent sunset seas hung on a wall to the left, and a small column to the right held a large vase full of flowers.

If she went down that corridor, she would die. He felt it as clearly as he did the dirt under his suddenly clawed fingertips.

Throat constricting in panic, he scrambled to his feet. But what could he do? He was worlds away, literally. If he took the absolute fastest route back, it would still take him a week or more. That, and the fastest route through the Brink would put him on display. Considering how easily the Guild had tracked him so far, they’d catch sight of him in no time, and he’d essentially lead a hostile army to Penny’s door.