The night air had gone from chilly to scalding hot within minutes, as the park became a roaring bonfire that lit up the darkness with a radiant, almost gentle incandescence. The flames were proof of the good work we'd done. Of the many foes we'd kept from the actual frontlines. Of the spells that would not be cast in random acts of terror.
And there, in front of it. Surrounded by the dispelling aura of iron-coated cars, were the last of tonight's real foes.
Two more ghosts left. Along with the wraith itself. It's vacuous excuse for a face doing its very best to glower at me with all the hatred that kept it moving. All the spite that fueled its unnatural form.
I looked straight ahead. Keeping my face impassive. Until I chose to let a hubristic grin slips through.
"I guess none of you will be attending that party after all. Shame. All the other goblin witches will know you're a sad, pathetic excuse for a mage."
I topped it off by giving the wraith a sad pout.
"How very tragic. Though I guess its for the best. After all, it will give all you rivals a chance to point and laugh at how pathetic you actually were under all that bluster."
The sound the wraith made was, hard to describe.
Like nails on a chalkboard intermixed with the wails of a hundred men and woman being tortured in concert.
It raised both its arms and lunged at me. Not caring that it's form was being reduced more and more the closer it got.
My arms swung the hammer in a horizontal arc. Silver flames licking the very air between us as the iron head found one ghost and then another. Sending them to whatever oblivion awaited their wretched souls.
The wraith lunged right in after them. Wailing something fierce as the faint traces of what used to be its upper and lower jaw gave way so that the vacuous hole in its face stretched outwards.
Another billowing gust of necrotic magic came at me as rending claws tried to swipe at my face and neck. In response, I stepped to the side, allowing my body to flow with the momentum of my hammer as I drifted a bit off my feet. The blast of cursed wind still struck my sides, but it hardly did anything. Caressing my iron-lined suit and failing to penetrate any deeper into my skin. The few sad remains of twisted magic choking out and dying as they made contact.
And then the power came.
A surge of joy and wanton bloodlust that ran its course through my very veins and into my heart. Forcing it to pump with a ferocity that would have given lesser mortals a bad case of cardiac arrest.
The world slowed down. The wraith's unnaturally swift movements turning sluggish as its hollow eye sockets tracked my movements. I flexed a few muscles in my legs. Just as few. Just a little.
It was enough to propel me upwards and to the right. The specter getting further and further away as I sailed through the air with a grace that would have made big cats blush. I landed on my feet soon thereafter. Having put enough distance between me and the thing for my snipers to get back to it.
One, two, three shots rang out. Iron-tipped bullets dispersing chunks of ethereal goo away from the wraith as it shrieked in anger and undisguised frustration.
I smiled a predatory smile. Which only incensed it further.
'Yeah. You're real angry now. Aren't you love? This is why Spell-Thieves aren't sent first into the front lines. A mage with half his wits about him would hesitate. Maybe even try to cut and run. But not you.'
Five more shots found the fiend and it still would not go down. Its struggle was a testament to just how much magic that green idiot had been wielding at the time of his death. How much harm he could have done if he wasn't caught in our operation.
His death had saved thousands. Maybe even tens of thousands.
'But it still cost me some of my men and for that, you'll have to pay.'
The thing reached me in a few more fractions of a second, but I was already mid-swing as it brought up its ghostly limbs.
A hammer blow took its left arm. Finally making it so that it wouldn't regrow the limb.
The right claw grazed me. Piercing a few centimeters into my suit and my flesh, before my unique constitution took effect.
More vigor made its way down my arteries. My eyesight growing sharper as I was able to make out each individual translucent strand making up the whole of my opponent.
That was when it seemed to realize what I was. That the battle had been over before it begun.
All that leftover resentment tried to escape from me. To seek more of my troops so that it might harvest a few more lives before running out of steam.
I didn't allow it.
My limbs were moving at several times their usual speed, with a strength that could only be described as herculean.
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The weapon found the phantom's torso. Going through it with a flourish and giving me the sensation of striking ice-cold water.
Then it was done and there were no more foes to slay.
I heaved and heaved and heaved. Trying to cope with the unending might. Trying to keep myself from jumping and running and climbing and fighting anything that I happened to chance across. It was hard. So very, very hard. These were the moments that I cherished the most. After all the magic had been eaten. I'd never felt so alive.
"Weasel?" A soldier asked. Coming closer with his weapon raised as a precautionary measure.
"I'm fine! I'm here! Report!"
"Uh, right. Mole officially lifted the radio silence. He's sending a report to HQ right now. Our rides are coming with two additional transports on the way. One is prepped to bring the target to an undisclosed secure location." He paused. Lowering the weapon as his shoulder sagged.
"The other..."
"Is coming here for the Quisling." I finished for him. He looked startled for a second, but quickly regained his composure.
"How, how long have we known there was one?"
"We didn't know until a few minutes ago." I informed him. "The Flounder guy leaked a bit of magic in front of me after finding out what I was. He can't have been very experienced or else he would've known about our, particular sensibilities."
I shrugged.
"In any case. I'm glad he was here with us. His presence might mean the grandson was innocent, since it's completely possible he planted the evidence in case he was caught. Us sniffing him out undoubtedly prevented many secrets from falling into enemy hands."
'Not to mention all the secrets we'll pry out of him once we get him to a deep, dark cell.'
One of the better known side effects of magical training was an enhanced memory, whilst another, lesser known aspect of it was the intake of forbidden knowledge. True names of mages, spells and the locations of magical reservoirs hidden among the normal human world.
A run of the mill Quisling would've been entirely reliant on tools to do his dirty work. in contrast, someone skilled enough to pass all our screening tools would have to have been several cuts above the rest.
Who knew what kind of juicy secrets we'd be able to rip out of him with the right implements?
I shook my head from side to side and made my way back to the house.
My entire circulatory system exploding with excess energy as I willed myself to walk at a relatively normal pace.
Bullfrog and his squad were packing up their surveillance equipment outside the home by the time I got there. Checking and re-checking all the little do-dats to make sure nothing had been tampered with.
It was standard protocol, but I'd order additional checks with more precise lab tools later. One could never be too careful with Quislings running about unnoticed. Flounder shouldn't have had access to the coms or the surveillance equipment, but you never knew which soldiers were friendly and which ones were more than friendly.
Any fool would take mere curiosity as an easy excuse in cases where other squads came too close for comfort, if it meant they wouldn't have to file any more paperwork.
It made sense, in a human sort of way. People really were curious by nature and getting your co-workers into trouble wasn't a very good way to build up comradery.
'Still, the rules exist for a reason. The other captains can call me paranoid all they like, but I haven't lost a single granny yet. If anything, I'm starting to think I wasn't being paranoid enough.'
Recruits were always tested and re-tested at nauseum during intake. With background checks galore and some very unfriendly visits by some very unfriendly investigators to add a little more assurances on top. Not to mention the investigators that didn't announce themselves.
'And yet Flounder made it through all of that without a single trace of suspicion falling on him. Makes one think.'
I opened the door and immediately came upon a welcome sight.
There, in the living room, was Mole. His fists closed and shaking as if he were desperately holding himself back from murdering the younger man.
Flounder was tied down to a chair. His wrists bound behind his back and his mouth gagged. His eyes were bloodshot. Opened so wide that they threatened to pop out of their sockets.
"Good job keeping him in one piece." I said. Giving him an appreciative look as I made my way to Flounder.
"The spooks really don't like it when we get started without them."
Mole huffed. Keeping his sullen silence.
"Hey. Cheer up, okay? This was a job well done on all fronts. We'll be due some fat bonuses and maybe even a few commendations. Not to mention the fact that we saved the granny and killed more than one mage."
"He was in my squad."
'Ah. So that's it.'
I shook my head. Walking around Flounder with slow, steady steps. My excess energy screaming to be let out and protesting viciously for every single second that passed without me tearing Flounder limb from bloody limb.
The floorboards creaked as I stepped over them. The house showing its true age with every moan and protestation.
I looked down at Flounder's back, then at Mole.
"You can't blame yourself for that man. Vetting our own people is not your job. It's the spook's job. They get paid way more than either one of us to be extra paranoid. Heck, I'm a nervous wreck half the time. To the point where I haven't had a good night's sleep in years. Even with all that suspicion and constant vigilance, I still didn't think that we could have had a Quisling among us."
'Well, that's not exactly true. I did sequester myself with the Granny for a reason and I did make sure to instruct my squad leaders in all kind of codes, including Morse code and sign language, but he doesn't need to hear that right now.'
Mole grunted.
"I ate with him. Played darts and pool with him. We drank beers with the rest of the boys and went bowling together. This man was someone I tried to take under my wing."
I sighed. Releasing a great heave of air.
"You did the best you could with the information you had available. There's no shame in that."
I moved to Flounder's side and noted that they were wet with tears. Looking up at me and pleading.
"Oh, that is not a good idea kid." I said to him. "Not at all. I am the last person you want to be asking for help. I mean, I sure don't like spooks. But I at least realize that they're on our side. You, on the other hand..."
I crept closer. Towering over him so that he had to crane his neck up in order to look me in the eye.
"You chose to play for the other team. Why did you do it, I wonder? What motivated you to sell out the grannies of humanity to some goblins? Was it money? I do know they sometimes pay in gold. No. That couldn't have been it. Infiltrating us was risky business and you're a bit too good at controlling your own magic. Better than some novice mages I've killed. Training you took time. You were a genuine asset. So why? For this granny in particular? What was so special about her?"
I stepped back.
"Or maybe it wasn't for the granny at all. Maybe you wanted to climb the ranks. To see if you could find a juicier morsel for your masters."
He shook his head with wanton desperation. Denying his guilt with all the power he had left.
"Oh? Are you saying I'm wrong? Well then, you'll be happy to know I'm not the only Spell-Thief on staff. You'll get a second opinion."
Just like that, his eyes went from pleading, to mortified. His mind going over the inevitable truth of his exposure.
"And after that." I smiled savagely. "Come the spooks."