In the Shadow of Dragons (Aftermagic Book 1) Page 3

  “Bastard,” she spat in the general direction of the door. She crumpled the paper in a fist, and dropped it in the trash as she went back to find Aileen and the boy.

  CHAPTER 2

  BiCo Training Facility; Bishop, Wyoming

  August 7, 11:09 a.m.

  Teague Harlow ducked under the flashing sword, bringing her own up just in time to block the backswing. The metallic clang echoed across the field. With a knee on the ground, she dragged her blade along her opponent’s and drove to her feet, pushing hard. Hoping to knock him off-balance.

  No such luck. His sword cleared the end of hers, swung around in a fast arc and crashed hard against her side, sticking there. Holo-blood flew. Her practice armor pinged an ominous low tone, and the light flashed yellow, then red, and back to yellow.

  “Pretty sure I won,” Heath said, panting through a grin. “I just about cut you in half.”

  “Did you? Or maybe I’m mortally wounded, and I have just enough strength left to take you with me.”

  His brow furrowed. Before he could say anything more, she wrapped a gauntleted hand around his blade and yanked it free, then immediately socked the point of her sword into the closed slot on his chest.

  Angry buzz. Red light.

  “That means you’re dead.” She smiled, loosed her blade and sheathed it. “Don’t worry,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, right.” Heath let out a shuddering breath and swiped an arm across his forehead. He missed the first time he tried to return his sword to the scabbard. “You sure about that?” he said. “I mean, maybe I should keep training for another year. Or five.”

  “You’ll be fine,” she repeated. “Come on.” She steered him toward the bleachers along the chain-link fence at the far end of the field, where Braxton and Brynn sat watching. Heath Weldon was only twenty-four, three years younger than her, and hadn’t been a Knight long enough to go out on an Eclipse Day. But he’d been training for months now, and they’d need all the help they could get.

  A full hour and change this year. Then two, then four, then eight. By the time she was thirty, they’d have to start fighting in shifts.

  When they neared the bleachers, Braxton stood and started clapping. “Way to go, Teague,” he called. “You killed the new guy. How about you try a real opponent now?”

  “Shut up, you moron. You’re scaring him.” Brynn elbowed him in the thigh, and he sat back down, still smiling. “Don’t listen to him. You did great out there,” she said to Heath.

  “Yeah. Until I died.”

  “The key word there being until. Most people don’t last two minutes against Teague, let alone ten. Not even this idiot,” Brynn said, hooking a thumb at Braxton.

  “That’s slander, right there. One time I held out for three.” Braxton grinned and leaned forward. “Seriously, don’t worry about it, kid,” he said. “You’ll have armor. The Changers won’t. Just take ’em out fast and you’ll be fine.”

  Heath sighed. “And if I’m not fast enough?”

  “You will be.” Teague shot Braxton a warning look, grabbed two water bottles from the cooler at his feet and handed one to Heath. “Brynn’s right,” she said. “It’s me, not you. I’ve been at this five years now, so I damned well better know what I’m doing.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he cracked the bottle open. “Five years? I thought you — I mean, I’ve never seen you on the news before,” he said. “You’re not … you know. Famous.”

  She managed to turn what would’ve been a snarl into an eye-roll. “Yeah, I’m not a fan of the media.”

  “Teague is our very own Mother Theresa,” Braxton said, reaching down to snag a water bottle. “All the work, none of the glory.”

  “That’s right. I’m a saint.” Julian was the only one who knew why she kept herself out of the press at all costs, and she wasn’t about to broadcast it to the rest of them. Time to change the subject before New Guy started asking questions. “Saint Kick-Your-Ass,” she said with a smirk. “Want to have a go, Brax? I’m game.”

  Braxton’s mouth moved, but the voice she heard was female, and in her head. “Ground control to Major Teague. You’re wanted in the conference room.”

  She scowled and shook her head, as if she could dislodge the sound from her ears. Seriously, Zen? she thought deliberately. Use a damned phone.

  “I’m practicing for tomorrow.”

  Well, you’ve got it down. So stop practicing. Zen Tomlinson was the Knights’ answer to Eclipse communication issues. She was a telepath. Since phones and CBs worked sporadically during the magic surges, if at all, Zen bridged the gaps — she passed messages between teams, coordinated movement, conveyed alerts, and broadcasted Julian’s orders.

  They might be forced to use it, the whole fight-fire-with-fire thing, but Teague hated magic. Even more than she hated the media.

  Just as she was about to tell Zen where she could shove her summons, her phone buzzed. She yanked it from her pocket and answered with, “Yeah, what?”

  “Hey, Teague. Julian wants to see you in the conference room.”

  She laughed in spite of herself. “Fine,” she said. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks, Zen.”

  “I knew you’d say that.” The line went dead.

  Teague sighed and replaced the phone. She really didn’t want to bother with meetings and discussions today, not with an hour-long Eclipse to deal with tomorrow. Better to keep practicing, keep pushing the limits. She didn’t need to talk about doing her job — she needed to do it. But refusing Julian was not an option.

  “Hey, what is that thing?” Heath said from behind her.

  She turned to find him staring up, and followed his gaze to the small ball of green flame floating through the air around ten feet above them. “Will-o’-wisp,” she murmured, tracking the orb’s progress with a furrowed brow. It was moving relatively fast and due west, almost with purpose.

  “Willow what?”

  “Will-o’-wisp. Fool’s fire,” Brynn put in. “It’s … like a little ball of magic. They just float around randomly sometimes, and no one can figure out why. You’ve never seen one?”

  “Uh, no,” Heath said. “I would’ve remembered.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s been a lot more than usual lately. They’re harmless, unless you touch them.” Teague frowned and made a mental note to ask Julian if his researchers were looking into the increased will-o’-wisp activity. Whatever the reason, she doubted it was good news. “Anyway, Julian wants to see me. So I guess you’re off the hook, Brax.”

  “Sure he does,” Braxton drawled. “What a convenient excuse.”

  “You got me. I actually didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the new guy.” She flipped a wave and headed for the building, taking the armor off as she walked. “Get him back on the field,” she called over her shoulder. “There’s no such thing as too much practice.”

  Heath’s good-natured groan chased her across the hard-packed ground.

  Teague waved her security card at the checkpoint just inside the back entrance. The reinforced glass door slid open with a soft whoosh, and she headed for the locker rooms first to stow her armor and duck her head under a faucet. Since Julian insisted on interrupting her when he knew damned well she was training, he could wait a few minutes.

  After she toweled off and quick-changed out of her sweaty clothes, she made her way through the warren of hallways, storage areas and indoor ranges to the main corridor. The facility was nearly empty, since most of the Knights were out running the circuit — shaking hands and kissing babies, ensuring the public that they were protected. That tomorrow wouldn’t be their last day on Earth, and they’d live to see the sun again.

  Of course, some of them wouldn’t. But that didn’t make a good talking point.

  Lost in thought, she didn’t see the man emerging from the conference room door ahead of her until she nearly
walked into him. He stopped her with a hand on her chest. “Miss Harlow,” a cold sneer of a voice said. “I don’t know how you talked him into this, but it’s not going to last. This is bullshit, and you know it.”

  “Sawyer.” She swatted his hand away and glared at him. He’d been a Knight just as long as her, and they generally got along, if only because they had to. Still, she’d never seen him this furious. He’d just about raged himself sober. “What the hell are you talking about?” she said.

  “Like you don’t know.”

  “Seriously. All I know is Julian wants to see me.”

  His dark scowl eased off a little. “You really don’t know?”

  “No clue.”

  Just as quickly as he’d angered, he pulled a smile. “Well, aren’t you going to love this,” he said. “Fine. I’ll just stand back and wait for you to fuck things up.”

  She huffed a breath. “Sawyer, what’s going on?”

  “I guess you’ll find out.” The smile went downright frosty. “Say hello to Carola for me, will you?”

  “Are you kidding? She’s in there with him?”

  Instead of replying, Sawyer pushed past her and stomped down the corridor.

  Teague took a full minute to breathe, to calm down. She could barely stomach Carola Fierstein on a good day, much less the day before the Eclipse, when the people who actually risked their lives around here had work to do. Carola had no function outside of making Julian look good for the cameras. She was less than useless, even for a Norm.

  When she finally entered the conference room, it was to find them seated next to each other on the opposite side of the long table, and Carola planting a kiss on Julian’s cheek.

  She folded her arms. “Am I interrupting something? Because I can come back.”

  Carola swiveled toward her and smiled. “Hi, Teague,” she said brightly. “Oh, I love that shirt. It looks so comfortable.”

  “Carola. Hi.” She didn’t bother forcing a smile. It would’ve looked as fake as it was. She looked from the petite blonde in the oh-so-adorable, cornflower blue X-wrap summer dress to Julian, who had the nerve to smirk. “So tell me why I’m here, instead of on the field,” she said to him.

  At least that wiped the smirk off. “Please, sit down,” he said.

  “Do I have to?”

  At the look he gave her, she sighed and crossed the room to pull out a chair. It wasn’t easy to keep from plopping down like a sullen child, but she managed. And screw him for that look, anyway. As if he didn’t know why she had every reason to hate Carola.

  Bringing his trophy fiancé in on this summons was a low blow.

  “Well,” Julian said. “I was going to ease into this, but you probably got an earful from Sawyer already, so I’ll just say it. I’m putting you in charge of the Casper team tomorrow.”

  She heard the words, but her brain refused to process them. Especially since they included in charge and Casper. That was ridiculous. Her job was here in Bishop, fighting at Julian’s side like she’d always done. She’d be wasted in Casper, especially since she hardly knew the city anymore. She avoided going there as much as possible after the Year One Eclipse. And he knew damned well that she had no desire to lead, to be in the spotlight. That was Sawyer’s job. No wonder he’d been so pissed.

  “Teague?”

  She looked at him. “Very funny,” she said. “I get it. You’re trying to rattle Sawyer, right? Make him think he’ll lose his place if he doesn’t pull it together. I’m pretty sure he gets the point, so you can stop now.”

  She’d actually pushed the chair back and started to stand when Julian said, “I’m serious. You’re leading the Casper team.”

  “The hell I am.” The words were out before she could think about it, but she didn’t even try to take them back. “I belong here, Julian.” With you, she didn’t add aloud.

  Julian let out a heavy sigh, and Carola patted his hand — a gesture that both irritated her further and made things crystal clear. Goddamn it. He was sending her away because Carola wanted her gone. The trophy was jealous. And Julian was going along with it, putting everyone at risk to protect the massive media coverage Carola’s daddy provided for BiCo.

  “You’re ready for this, Teague,” Julian said. “I need you up there. We’ve got an hour to manage this year, and I just don’t think Sawyer can handle it.”

  Now she knew why Carola was here, too. Because if she wasn’t, Teague would’ve lit into him about letting a clueless Norm make crucial battle decisions. And he knew it. He’d made sure her only option was to grit her teeth and bear it.

  But she wasn’t going to roll over that easy. “I’m not doing it,” she said. “Sawyer might be a drunken ass, but he always comes through when it counts. And he wants the job. I don’t.”

  “Why not?” Carola said, sounding honestly surprised. “You’re so good. I’ve seen you fight. I could even arrange for a remote camera to trail you … oh, we could make a documentary! You’d inspire so many people—”

  “No.” The single terse word was as far as she could go. It wasn’t nearly enough.

  This time it was Julian’s turn for hand-patting as Carola rocked back in the chair, her red lips an O of surprise. “Teague,” he said in restrained tones. “Are you really going to make me order you to do this?”

  She couldn’t help it. “I guess I am.”

  “Fine. Consider this an order.” He somehow managed to look pained and angry at the same time. “You’re going to lead the Casper team tomorrow. Be at the stables by nine.”

  Teague stood slowly and pinned him with a glare. “Whatever you say, boss,” she said. “Can I go now? I’ve got work to do.”

  He stared at her another minute, and then his shoulders slumped. “Go.”

  She left without a word — because if she let any of them out, they’d draw blood.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Badlands; Hell’s Half Acre, Wyoming

  August 7, 2:55 p.m.

  Fresh air and quiet hadn’t helped. The vision didn’t make any more sense than it had when it came to him four days ago.

  Noah Delaney crossed the ravine floor slowly, heading for the hidden camp beneath the overhang at the far end. He could hear the generators buzzing and clanking like busted refrigerators from here. Oscar had finally scrounged the parts he needed to fix the dampeners, so hopefully he was doing that now. They’d been too loud for too long, and every day was a bigger risk that the patrols would find them.

  He didn’t blame Oscar. It always took a while to get anything from the city, even in the Warrens. And it’d gotten a lot harder when that bastard had increased the bounties on all their heads.

  Darkspawn. That was what Julian Bishop and his precious Knights kept calling them in every press conference and article and wanted poster. And of course, everyone believed their hero when he told them the ‘Darkspawn’ were killers and terrorists, bloodthirsty monsters who were ‘infecting’ people by not taking HeMo and wanted to hoard all the magic for themselves. Funny, since Julian and his cronies were the only ones allowed to use magic, and also the ones who carted away — or flat-out killed — anybody who showed the slightest sign of using.

  So who was hoarding magic? That would be Julian Bishop, miracle worker, slayer of dragons and sorcerers.

  And wives.

  He couldn’t waste time thinking about that now, though. Tomorrow was going to take all his focus. He reached the overhang, pulled a corner of the camouflage netting back and slipped into the main room.

  Well, technically it was a cavern. As far as living spaces went, though, it wasn’t a bad setup for a bunch of fugitives. They’d been out here four years, long enough to turn a big, rocky hole into a fair semblance of creature comfort. Carpeted sitting area, communal kitchen, tables and chairs, bookshelves and books. Lights strung up around the place, the glow hidden by blackout curtains behind the camo. Everything scrounged from post-Eclipse destruction sites, or from the Warrens. And beyond the main room, a network of sma
ller caves for sleeping and privacy.

  Not exactly the Taj Mahal, but they made it work.

  When he left an hour ago, most of them had been hanging around in the main room. Now it was just Darby Bliss and Diesel sitting at the big table, field-stripping a small pile of handguns.

  Noah approached them with a smirk. “You know those aren’t going to do you any good tomorrow,” he said. “The Eclipse screws them up.”

  “Hey, I’ll take a one-in-ten chance at blowing Bishop’s head off any day.” Darby shot him a grin, slammed a cartridge into the 9mm she was holding and set it back on the table. “By the way, what do you think?” She turned her head slightly, showing him the slender hook jabbed into the upper part of her pointed ear. A chain of three bullets dangled from the hook. “Combination fashion accessory and spare ammo.”

  “Nice.” Noah picked up one of the weapons, a heavy .44, and looked at Diesel. “And you’re encouraging this?”

  The big man shrugged. “Like I can stop her.”

  “Darby does what Darby wants. And right now, she wants her Desert Eagle.” She held a hand out, and Noah slapped the gun into it. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Don’t mention it. Hey, where is everybody?”

  Darby made a vague gesture. “The Wonder Twins went on a hunt. Sledge and Isaac are sparring somewhere, Blake’s looking for slingshot rocks, whatever those are, and Peyton has another headache.” She paused and looked at the ceiling. “I think Oscar is—”

  All the lights flickered and stuttered. There was a loud pop, and the whole place went dark and silent.

  “Breaking the generators,” Darby said in the blackness. “Oscar!”

  “Sorry!” a muffled voice called from the back part of the cavern. “Hang on.” There were shuffling sounds, a few crashes and clanks. Then a string of curses and a huge bang. The generators ramped up to a low purr, and the lights blinked on again. “Okay, we’re good.”

  “Sounds great, man,” Noah called back. “Thanks.”

  “De nada.” More muttering and clanking. Oscar wouldn’t come out for a while yet — he tinkered when he was stressed.