Sin & Surrender (Demigod of San Francisco #6)(31)

“He’s got an Apporter, too?” I heard one of the surprised leaders exclaim.

I could barely hear Magnus’s answering drawl. “The Apporter is a spirit—a powerful one—and the Spirit Walker has it under her control.”

One flowering vine rose into the air, then another, reaching out toward Thane, who was leaning against the wall. He watched their progress but didn’t move.

Mia reappeared fifty feet above the ground. She opened her arms and disappeared again.

“Ohhh shiiiit!” The muscular man’s arms windmilled. His curse turned into a high-pitched scream.

Jerry sent a rock flying through the air. It smashed into the woman hiding behind the solitary bush. She cried out, slammed backward. The rock rose and smashed into her a second time. The vines dropped from the air, one of them having nearly reached a very unconcerned Thane.

Darts sprayed through the air as the Hercules man slapped against the ground. His head bounced and his body went limp.

Mia popped back next to me, sagging. That had taken a lot of her energy.

“You better not have just killed that man, Mia,” I said through gritted teeth, knowing those in the balcony would think I’d instigated the attack, since Magnus had claimed I was in control.

“He’ll heal. Another ten feet and he would’ve died,” she replied. Hopefully she was correct.

Donovan knocked the darts to the side with his telekinetic magic, now standing in front of Daisy. Mordecai was pressed against her leg, not allowing her to shove him off.

Dylan lifted his hands, and for a moment, everyone visibly quailed. Lightning crackled, slicing from the parallel walls, catching two of our opponents in the crossfire.

“A Demigod is blocking me from gathering the clouds,” he yelled, making lightning zip across the ground, something he’d said was incredibly difficult. He was showing off. It fizzed across the pool of water and reached a man who stood with his hands out and fingers splayed, like a sorcerer. Electricity sizzled up his leg. He screamed, convulsing, as a second wave of darts sprayed from his hands. I didn’t know what kind of magic that was, but he wasn’t going to use it any more today.

Donovan already had the first round of darts pushed out of the way, and he quickly went to work on the second. Boman sliced light across a guy in the far back who hadn’t shown us any magic yet, burning a hole in his chest. The man screamed and beat at himself before Boman hit him with another.

A bright flare lit up the sky, so intense I had to rip my eyes away. It beat down on us, turning the world white, blocking my vision. When the light finally faded, I was confused to see a desert oasis under my feet, as if Mia had transported me somewhere else.

This wasn’t my first hallucinogenic rodeo.

I pulled power from the Line and grabbed up all the opponents’ souls.

“Lexi, we need to see,” Boman yelled.

Power pumped through me. Unseen eyes turned my way, spirit watchers hanging out behind the veil, just outside of my field of vision. I ignored them. This had happened a lot since the showdown at Lydia’s place. I’d always assumed it was my father, but since he was currently staring down at me from his table on the balcony, probably not.

I took a deep breath, tempered my power so I didn’t kill anyone, and softly yanked. Souls clattered against casings, and in a one-two punch, I sliced the outsides of said casings. These people were getting it in two different ways—both horrible, both painful, neither life-threatening.

Shouts and screams filled the arena, and the illusion of the desert cut off immediately. The opponents fell to their knees or sides, clutching their middles and rolling. Not one of them still stood. No one even looked our way.

Havoc roared, and I knew the effect would be flapping those souls in their casings. Chaos bounded forward to use his claws.

“No!” I shouted as another wave of shouts and screams filled the arena. The guy with the darts screamed so loud and long that his voice turned hoarse. He kicked at an invisible enemy. “Havoc, Chaos, desist!”

I could barely hear myself over the man’s screaming, though the cats obliged, looking back at me. Still the man screamed, now clawing at his chest, his face.

“Knock him out—he’s consumed with fear,” I shouted.

Red was there in a moment, happy to oblige. Bria jogged forward, knives out, still on the offensive. The guys, too, were readying for another attack.

“Stop! What are you doing?” I shouted. “They’re down. It’s over.”

Bria paused over a man curled in on himself, ready to poke holes in him. One of the crazy zombies ran by, screaming for no reason. A man sobbed in the corner. A woman rolled back and forth, whimpering, clutching her chest. Not one of the opponents was trying to get up.

“We need to take the rest of them out to prove our victory. That’s how it’s done,” Bria said.

Over the din I could hear seats groaning from the balcony as people moved around. They’d come for blood and wouldn’t be satisfied until we gave it to them.

They could suck it.

In a real battle, when the enemy was subdued, that was it. You walked away. You didn’t continue to fight for the fun of it. You didn’t have an audience. Hell, you were just happy to be alive.

I elevated my voice so everyone would be sure to hear. “Leave them. They don’t need to be bloody to prove who won. They’ve had enough.”