The Council (Darkness #5)(10)

“It’s a great partnership,” Jonas reflected, his muscles flexing. “Where are these—”

Jonas cut off as three men stepped into the corridor a hundred feet in front of us. One guy was slightly in front, his face tilted down in menace. The two behind walked with their chests puffed up, the first guy’s backup.

“Here we go, bro,” Charles growled, turning sideways so a quick turn of his head could have him seeing either end of the hallway.

“Oh God. This is a challenge, isn’t it?” My breath was coming in fast pants. My chest felt tight.

The men stalked toward us. Stefan’s height or more, huge and robust, they were thugs of massive proportions. The front man, eyes for me alone, ground to a halt ten feet in front of me. His lips quirked in a sardonic smile. “We don’t like humans thinking above their station.”

“Thinking above our station?” I said back automatically. “Well, I don’t have to worry about you doing that, huh?”

“If more than one of you challenges, we can step in to defend her,” Jonas drawled. He cracked his neck.

“I live here, haus. I know the rules of engagement,” the man retorted.

Thankfully, my guys didn’t mention Jonas’ statement was for me, not them.

“So what’s it going to be?” Jonas leaned in, his eyes flaring with crazy. “Am I invited to the party?”

The lead thug’s eyes flicked toward Jonas, an answer on his tongue. When his eyes hit my bodyguard, though, those words must’ve dried up, because he shut his mouth with a click. The two guys to the back shifted with darting eyes, a normal person’s version of begging to shuffle away quickly.

“I don’t got a gripe with you, man.” The leader nodded toward me. “I got a gripe with a bitch human prancing around with my kind at her back, like lap dogs.”

“You calling me a lap dog, bro?” Charles growled.

The leader spit to his side and stepped forward. His two buddies didn’t follow.

“Gross. You just spit on carpet.” Magic flared inside me. I took a deep breath and fought the wave of power.

“Let’s go, bitch human. I need to rearrange your face.”

I rolled my eyes and thought about the spells I wanted to do, because obviously I wasn’t going to physically fight a behemoth. “The rules of engagement? Rearrange my face? Let me guess, you’re a fan of cheesy war movies.”

I felt behind me for Charles’ leg, and then applied pressure, telling him to back off. I was aiming for harm, not to maim and certainly not kill, but the spell was volatile at best and not directional—everyone would get a blast.

“All right, then,” Charles said, pulling Jonas back and then further away.

The leader grinned. “It’s not going to take that much space to have this bitch human weeping for mercy.”

“God you’re tough to listen to.” Wasting no time, I mixed the elements and formed a large red ball. Its sides nearly touched the walls. To get around it, he’d have to crawl under it on his belly. No way was this guy doing that.

Of course, it was red. He’d probably try to disentangle it like a common, low-level spell.

Toa tried that once. But only once. Inverted magic was a tricky, unstable thing.

The ball glowed pale red as it hovered, non-threateningly, in the middle of the hallway. I backed away slowly, careful not to turn my back lest anyone think I was running away. Back with Charles and Jonas, I erected a strong shield, tied off the spell, and waited. Butterflies ate away at my stomach. If I failed at this, it would set a precedent for the rest of my stay here.

I could not fail at this.

“That’s it, human?” the guy laughed. His feet strolled from one side, to the other, underneath the floating orb. “Red? They’re trying to make you mage with red power?”

“No red could do a ball like that,” Charles muttered. “This male is about as sharp as a bowl of jello.”

“What is it, a PR stunt?” the guy continued. His feet stepped backwards. Next he’d try to unravel that spell. I hoped. “Those bleeding hearts that think we treat humans like crap are trying to make a point with you, is that it? Excited you f**king useless bastards can scrape up to a measly red?”

“Wow, you have a lot of hate. You seeing somebody for that?” I called.

“I’d heard she was a black,” someone on the other end of my spell pronounced.

“Looks like you heard wrong. Probably is a PR stunt.” The leader’s feet shifted. Pale orange encased my spell.

“Pale orange?” Charles snickered. “He’s nearly a red himself.”

“Can’t work his magic, neither,” Jonas muttered, losing his patience. “How long does it take to work at that spell?”

“Oh, like you could do it, bro?” Charles shot back. “You know which spell that is? It’s that floating death one that Toa loves. I can’t make one of those… Well, I can’t make one and have it work properly.”

“That’s because you have your head up your ass most of the time.”

“Shut up you guys, here we go,” I chastised softly.

The pale orange started to sizzle, an interesting approach to unweaving a spell. His version of magic hit my opposite version of magic. Like a detonator, the orb exploded.