Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem #2)(76)

“It seems I haven’t met a gobshite with a lick of sense yet, then.”

“I mean…hello? Who am I?” Reagan jogged a few more steps before the next spell zipped through the air, similar to the distracting one, though this one was meant to scald. It broke apart as the other had done, but she was ready for it. She sliced it down quickly, turning her back on Emery at one point to do so.

“Tackle her,” I shouted, unable to help it. “Tackle her from behind. She’s—” I cut off as she turned around. “Missed it, Emery.” I shook my head.

His chest shook, and I knew he was chuckling at me.

“I wasn’t kidding,” I muttered.

“That’s what makes it so funny, Turdswallop,” he said, creating a nastier spell between his two palms. More complex, with a weave twice as large, this one should take her back a pace.

“Should’ve listened to her. Here’s Johnny!” She sprinted at him in the lull between spells.

He took two quick steps back, not worried about losing ground in order to buy time. Five feet away from him, Reagan bent her knees, preparing to launch.

He thrust his hands forward and the spell rushed at her, a cloud of magic rolling and tumbling through the air.

Unexpectedly, she went down into a slide, like trying to steal second base. The spell drifted over her and she popped up, jumping into the air a moment later. She kicked out. Her foot smacked against Emery’s forearm, which hadn’t come up to block her in time. He punched his own face.

Reagan punched him in the stomach and the upper leg, then bent and swept her leg behind his, knocking his legs out from under him. He landed hard on his butt and rolled away. In that time, a blast of fire took out the drifting spell, lazily headed back in her direction. It was a homing spell like the one I’d used, but he’d missed a few components in his haste.

By the time he was up, the fire was gone, and she was squaring off again.

He blinked half a dozen times, like he’d been completely blindsided, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ms. Gobshite, to you,” Reagan said, fisting and straightening her hand. “You’ve got muscle tone, though. I’ll give you that. Giving you a charley horse isn’t as fun as it should be.”

This time, Emery did brace himself. “Fuck it. Again.”

A smile took up Reagan’s face. “Don’t mind if I do.”

She ran forward as he was readying a nastier spell, but the sound of plastic clattering against the floor dragged away my focus. My phone was jumping against the back wall where I’d left it earlier.

Skirting along the side of the warehouse so as not to get hit with a rogue foot or spell—you just never knew with Reagan—I grabbed the phone and checked the screen. A number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?” I asked as Reagan punched Emery’s face, faster than should have been humanly possible. He jerked out of the way at the last moment and then landed a solid punch into her stomach. His other hand came around for a left hook, but she ducked in time and powered a fist into his ribs.

He tackled her, smashing his large shoulder into her middle and taking her down. His bigger, heavier body fell on top of her, but she didn’t lose her breath like any normal person would’ve. She rolled with impossible strength, curled up to get her feet lined up with his middle, and kicked out. He went tumbling across the floor.

They both scrambled to their feet. Emery already had a spell at the ready. With one hand, he started weaving and rapidly firing lesser spells at her, cringeworthy confections intent on keeping her busy. With the other hand, he constructed something he’d obviously gotten from me, but with embellishments stemming from his frustration and desire to win.

“Are you creating multiple spells at one time right now?” Reagan asked as she muscled her sword through one lowball spell after another. “How the hell are you creating multiple spells? That can’t be done.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t feel magic. I think you were lying.” His tone said he was teasing, but his face was screwed up in intense concentration.

It occurred to me that Emery had been trained similarly to Callie and Dizzy. Though he was more flexible, Reagan was likely one of the first people who’d made him rethink his usual fighting strategies.

Welcome to Reagan Land, where every day was a new nightmare.

“Hello?” a man said on the other end of the phone.

I’d completely forgotten I’d pushed talk. “Oh sorry, hello?”

“Penny?”

“Yes, who is speaking?”

“This is Red. The shifter from down—”

“Reagan’s friend, yeah. Hi.”

“I don’t know about Reagan’s friend…” he muttered. “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Uh…yeah. Wait, how did you get my number?”

“I deal in intel.”

I waited for more. Silence stretched between us, getting awkward, until he finally said, “Reagan gave it to me in case I needed to talk to you and couldn’t get a hold of her. In case there was danger, or something.”

“Ah, right. She’s right here, if you—”

“No, no. No, that’s fine. She’s probably busy.” I didn’t miss the wariness in his voice. “Listen, I thought you should know. There’s been a lot of activity in the bars lately. In this whole area, actually. Mostly in the daytime and early evening. People drift away when the sun starts going down, and then it’s just the regulars. Now, I don’t know what all of them do, you understand. I do my job discreetly. I listen, I don’t ask questions.”