Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem #2)(64)

I ran past a tree, thought better of running in a straight line, given that I wasn’t the fastest person in the race, and turned quickly. I looped around the tree and caught sight of the old crone moving so fast that it was a wonder both hips didn’t give out and go skittering to the side.

Reagan’s magic had pulled away from my bubble when I’d left her, but that didn’t matter, because I could feel the pulsing power of the banshee. Dull and peaceful but throbbing, it didn’t at all speak of a villainous woman trying to steal someone’s life. It was calm and comforting and—

“Oh no you don’t! I’m onto you!” I took off running again—no idea why, just knowing it was too fast for me to stand still. Also, while my magic was urgently waiting for me to sculpt it, my brain buzzed with that freaking old woman tearing through the grass toward me, her face a mask of horror and her claw-like hands braced in the air.

“I knew clawed hands were scary,” I said as I pumped my arms as fast as I could, running toward a line of trees. “Very scary.”

Wait, why I was going away from Reagan? Salvation was toward her.

I cut right, throwing off the banshee, thankfully. She was a fast glider, but a slow turner. I’d wait a moment and cut right again, heading back toward Reagan’s last hiding place.

The banshee’s wailing dug into my core and gnawed on my bones. Its magic blanketed out from it, soft and pleasant and deadly. It would be a lovely song to hear on one’s deathbed, and that was what scared me most—part of me wanted to let her carry me out of my body and this world.

I was in serious danger.

Defend yourself, you flugging moron!

I stopped randomly, no longer totally in control, and turned. The thing was forty feet from me and closing the distance between us fast. I wouldn’t have made it to Reagan, if she was even in the same area. I dropped the stone, and the weave flowered in my fingers before I even properly willed it, springing to life and spiraling out. A wall to stop the thing. A cage to contain it. A lullaby to still it and, above all, forgiveness.

I didn’t know why that last bit was so crucial, but I felt it. I knew it. It would root both the spell and the beast.

After that, I’d wait for someone to do whatever they would with it. I didn’t want to be responsible for its demise. That felt wrong, to me. Unnatural.

The irony didn’t fail to register, but the notion was too firm to shake.

Twenty feet and bearing down. Fifteen.

I unleashed my spell, pushing my hands forward to help throw it. Tighter than any weave I’d yet done, and sparkling like a disco ball, it smacked into the creature. Tight, sparkling bands wrapped around it, stopping its progress. Caging it.

Look at me with the bedazzled spells.

The creature howled and dodged right, but my magic was there, barring the way. Another wall went up, then another. The cage shrank, smaller and smaller until the creature was shaking, fighting my magic.

Pounding feet came up behind me. “Hurry,” Reagan said, but her words were drowned out as jets of magic fired from my left and right. Weak spells, poorly constructed, they had a weird, stale quality that made me wrinkle my nose.

A moment later, I saw why. The small group we’d left behind had darted in, cracking casings as they approached. These were bought spells, used on the fly.

“They need a better distributor,” I murmured, catching a few of the intents but not all, as the magic covered the banshee. It wasn’t good news for the creature.

She shrieked and wailed, held in place and now writhing. Death’s chariot would be awaiting her on the other side, and I knew she wouldn’t come back. That was the price a magical person paid for breaking the rules.

“Got her!” Garret ran in, cracking one more spell to seal the deal.

The creature shrieked one last time before sizzling out before our eyes. A dark fuzz accompanied my dissipating spell.

“We did it.” Garret smiled from ear to ear, his walk becoming a strut. “I knew we could do it. Mine was the killing spell. That goes in the books.”

“You didn’t do squat, you weasel,” Reagan yelled, stalking forward. Her cool from dealing with the banshee was completely gone. “That was all Penny. She lured that thing, trapped it, and was just about to disband it when you morons tramped through. She didn’t need you.”

“It was chasing her all over the grass!” Garret said as the captain stalked into the area. “We saw it.”

“I wasn’t going to kill it,” I said, fatigue washing over me. I’d poured too much power into the spell. Then again, maybe it had been needed. “It felt wrong.”

“See?” Garret pointed at me.

“That didn’t mean she needed you, moron,” Reagan said. “She could’ve kept it there all night.”

“It was chasing her!” Garret jabbed a finger at me again in renewed intensity.

“Until she trapped it. I know you’re dumb, Garret, but at least try to communicate with smarter beings.”

“I didn’t see any spell.” Garret crossed his arms over his chest. The other peacekeepers, as Reagan had called them, gathered around to watch the spectacle, most of them out of breath from running in. Even the captain stood by placidly, watching. I got the distinct impression that this wasn’t the first showdown between Garret and Reagan.

“She’s a natural. You can’t see what she does. But did you see that thing stop in midair, didn’t you?”