Even Lucinda’s voice sounded different under the magical disguise as she explained, “This only lasts half an hour, but hides both our physical appearances and magical signatures.”
Behind them, Daniel was making this strange wheezing sound as he stared at Riordan, hands clasped over his mouth. Riordan resolutely ignored him and jerked his head towards the back of the van where Mark was shaking a water bottle filled with bits of herbs and chanting, the question implicit in the motion. Lucinda shook her head.
“It would have cost too much to mask him too, but the spell he’s casting will make normal people forget what they saw if he does have to shift. He’ll be standing by outside in case we need help.” Lucinda climbed out of the car and then leaned back in, arms outspread. “Come on. I’ll carry you as a white woman’s pocket dog and make a fuss if anyone challenges me.”
Her mage kit looked like a big purse now, making that entitled tourist look all the more complete. Daniel’s wheezes became louder giggles. Reluctantly, Riordan crawled into her arms, hating absolutely everything about the role except that it was a way of making the scouting possible at all.
He peered over her shoulder at the van as she exited the van and strode off down the parking area towards the auto shop. Mark was drinking the herb water with a grimace that made it clear just how awful it tasted. Daniel trailed behind Lucinda, amusement and worry warring in his eyes. The ghost slowed, glancing back at Mark, now left alone at the van.
Stick with Mark, Riordan thought at Daniel, the telepathic communication method easier with the pack bond in place. Warn me if anything happens outside. We hopefully won’t be in there long. And stop laughing at me.
That was enough to decide Daniel, though not enough to stop him from snickering again at Riordan’s undignified situation, and he hung back. Mark was just closing up the van trunk as Lucinda opened the door to the auto shop and stepped inside.
Cool air from a pair of fans swept over them. The shop had a front reception area with a large desk and a small retail area with bottles of car fluids, windshield wipers, and other things that Riordan didn’t know the use for. It had been a long time since he owned a car and between what he’d forgotten and the inevitable technology advances, those bits and bobs could be practically anything.
Jimmy stood with a short mousy woman, perusing the retail goods with bored expressions, while a tall athletic woman talked to the receptionist at the desk. The woman had short black hair and swarthy skin that reminded Riordan of Greece. Her short-sleeved blouse was nice enough, but her durable jeans and well-worn combat boots told a broader story. There was something about the way she held herself that reminded Riordan of his time with the mercenaries.
Worse than that, her spirit writhed with death magic and dark streaks of corruption, the marks of a death mage.
From the way Lucinda stiffened, Riordan knew she saw it too. Everyone had glanced over when the bell over the door rang, leaving them awkwardly exposed. Her disguise spell seemed to work though, as the death mage at the counter turned back towards the receptionist. Jimmy still watched them, but that seemed to be largely because they were more interesting than car oil. The mousy woman with him kept an eye on them without much attention.
If anything, it was the receptionist himself that attended to them the most and not just because that was his job. The receptionist was frowning, his eyes fixed on Riordan who was held firmly in Lucinda’s arms.
Riordan could work with that.
They needed to leave immediately. Spying on some humans, maybe equipped with some death magic items or enhancement spells, was way different than spying on an active mage. Even worse in Riordan’s mind was that he didn’t think this woman was the one they kept referring to as the boss. The woman in the shop wasn’t registering as nearly powerful enough or corrupt enough to be responsible for the killing tree, plus Jimmy’s phone call implied that the boss wasn’t here. The boss mage had to have inducted at least this one more woman as a death mage, or possibly recruited her. Riordan hoped that increasing paranoia and desire to hoard power had kept her from inducting too many.
Of course, each new death mage could also teach someone else how to get started too.
Damn it, their problem kept getting worse and worse. For now, Riordan would settle for a safe retreat with this new piece of information. He began wiggling in Lucinda’s arms, as if he was trying to escape but couldn’t quite manage it. Since he wasn’t sure if the disguise covered the noises he made well, he stuck with something imitating a dog whine rather than trying to fake barking as a badger.
Lucinda caught on quickly. She cooed at him like he was some sort of spoiled infant. “What’s that, pookie? Do you want down?”
Riordan knew that she was going for maximum annoyance for the part of the role, but he also suspected she enjoyed annoying him as much as the rest of the people in the room. He didn’t have to fake snapping at her like an ill-tempered untrained creature as she set him down.
Just as he hoped, the receptionist did not like that. The man called out, “Sorry, ma’am, but we don’t allow pets in here.”
“Nonsense,” Lucinda dismissed, waving a hand, “Pookie is fine. He can explore while I wait.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
She began to rummage through her “purse,” ignoring Riordan. She appeared as if she was looking for some important item buried in there, but he could see her palming a bottle of some tincture. Riordan immediately tore around the room, using this opportunity to get a better look at both Jimmy and his companion as he knocked some things off the lower shelves.
Jimmy was built strong in that pot-bellied thick sort of way, with thinning brown hair peeking out from under his ball cap. His nose was too large for his face, his mouth a bit small, and he was just starting to get a few wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. He dressed simply in a plain gray t-shirt and jeans. The woman was shorter with ash gray hair and long bangs that fell into her face. Riordan caught sight of a healing bruise on one of her round cheeks. She was plump, but likely stronger than she looked if she was on this search squad. He wished he had Daniel here. The ghost had a good memory and was way better with words than Riordan, which would help with descriptions.
The receptionist was coming around his desk to deal with this. “Ma’am,” the man said forcefully, “You need to take your dog out of here.”
Meanwhile, Jimmy aimed a kick at Riordan, who twisted around it to make the light impact look far worse than it was. He faked a yelp and scrambled back towards Lucinda, who scooped him up with righteous indignation. He was grateful for her shifter strength because she carried him like he weighed eight pounds instead of thirty.
“Well!” Lucinda huffed, offended. She shot a glare at Jimmy. “Uncouth ruffians!”
Riordan already could tell Lucinda could act all day if she had to, but she felt the same need to leave quickly as he did. There was a tension in her body, the side facing towards the unexpected death mage braced for danger. She turned and stormed out the shop door, grumbling loudly about poor service. Gazes followed them with vague disinterest.
They nearly ran into Mark as they exited, the young man hanging out not far from the entrance nervously. Daniel floated beside him, eyes locked on the shop and the scene Lucinda and Riordan had made. The way Daniel’s eyes widened was the first sign Riordan had that something had just gone terribly wrong.
The door swung shut behind them automatically and Riordan leapt out of Lucinda’s arms, nudging Mark to urge him towards the van again. They had to leave. Now.
“Was that-” Daniel started to say as the door burst open again. The death mage woman stood there, staring straight at both Mark and Daniel. Lucinda had shielded Riordan and herself on a magical level, but Mark was still threaded through with the warm green-yellow of shifter magic and the vibrant yellows of spirit magic, made all the brighter by whatever enhancement spell he’d used. Riordan wondered if the death mage had ever seen other types of magic on someone before.
For a moment, all of them froze, unsure how to proceed or perhaps just being unwilling to make the first move on a public street.
Riordan recovered fastest, his previous combat experience dictating he try to control the flow of the encounter from the start, even if it was already going off the rails. The woman was raising a hand towards Mark, who was still staring. Mark and Lucinda might be better at magic than Riordan, but he doubted either of them had much practical experience with violent conflict. He shoved his small furry body against the death mage’s ankles, praying that she didn’t have some sort of reactive spell on her.
Thirty pounds of angry badger made a decent battering ram, especially since she hadn’t corrected her stance yet. The woman stumbled back, but reacted fast enough to neither lose her footing or take any real injury. Still, it gave Mark more space.
Lucinda shook off her shock next, staying in character as a mundane as she cried out, “Pookie!” and also got between Mark and the woman. She probably hoped, as Riordan did, that the death mage would be hesitant to use magic in front of normal humans. Active members of the magical community tried to keep obvious magic out of public view. Death mages running a cult could have any set of rules.
Run, Riordan thought hard at Daniel, She can see and hurt you.
The ghost was quick to take the warning after his last run-in with death magic. He dashed off down the street, heading away from the van. Riordan could only hope that choice was so the death mage didn’t know which person to follow and that Daniel would retreat into the tree domain soon.
Jimmy and the mousy one shoved out of the auto shop, stopping to take in the confusing tangle of people standing in front of the door. Without the mage’s magic sensing, Mark looked ordinary, harmless, and scared, his sleepy eyes wide with surprise. Riordan, the yappy dog, was a more obvious target than Mark at that moment.
The woman was not to be deterred so easily. She shot a glance at the fleeing ghost, but clearly decided Mark was more important. She lunged forward, barely dodging Riordan’s continued attempts to trip her and Lucinda’s blocking presence, managing to get a hand clamped around his wrist. Mark jerked against her grip, but she held on tightly.
“Helena?” Jimmy asked, his confused tone practically begging for direction.
“This one,” the death mage, Helena, hissed out, her attention fully focused on Mark. Her eyes locked with his as she commanded him, “Come with me.” Dark tendrils of death magic lifted from her to lash out towards him like hungry snakes. Mark made a strange whine in the back of his throat, apparently physically unable to look away.
Riordan bit Helena as hard as he could through her jeans.
The death mage yelped, glancing down at Riordan where he hung on with dogged determination. He didn’t care if he broke his disguise as a tiny dog at this point, not when an ally was being threatened. As soon as Helena broke eye contact, the tendrils of magic receded slightly. Lucinda swung her bag at Helena’s wrist, breaking her loosened hold enough for Mark to yank his arm free.
Unfortunately, that was enough for the other two to get involved. Jimmy grabbed Lucinda and pulled her back out of the fray roughly. Mousy helped, latching onto Lucinda’s arm holding the purse. Helena kicked out at Riordan. The attack was far more efficient than Jimmy’s earlier kick, but Riordan’s badger body absorbed the blow easily, sliding back but lunging forward again as soon as he could.
Power flared around Mark and the translucent spirit animal armor wrapped around his physical body. Fur poofed up from him, making him look round and soft with a crown of beaded quills. Armor decorated in strange runic patterns and quillwork covered his whole body, a black half mask hovering over the upper half of his face. The dang kid was a fucking porcupine.
The spiritual shift was invisible to Jimmy and Mousy, but Helena clearly saw it and just as clearly had never seen anything quite like it before. Her hand fell to her belt and came up again with a short bowie knife. She quickly cut the meat part of her left palm, muttering words that sounded like a fake language. Her magic moved again, pooling around the blood on her hand and on her blade.
Riordan hated how helpless he felt, unable to speak to either of the apprentice shaman in this form and afraid to blow his cover in more than one way by publicly shifting. They weren’t set up to handle a real mage duel here. They needed to leave.
That meant helping Lucinda break free, even if it left Mark to cover himself for a moment. Riordan had to trust that spirit armor wasn’t just for show. He bunched up and launched himself onto Jimmy, digging his claws in as he scrambled up the man’s back. Badger claws were meant for digging, not climbing, which meant that he couldn’t cling for long. Still, the unexpected assault and painful scratches were enough for Jimmy to shove Lucinda away from him and reach for Riordan instead. His grabs were easy to dodge, though Riordan snarled and snapped at the man, biting his hand.
The taste of blood filled Riordan’s mouth, turning his stomach. He liked blood just fine when eating raw animals for food, but human blood never sat well with him and hopefully never would. Lucinda meanwhile turned and landed a surprisingly powerful punch on Mousy’s already bruised face, sending the smaller woman staggering back.
In the time needed to break Lucinda free, Helena attacked Mark with her bloody blade. The young man jerked backwards, trying to avoid it, but his natural lack of grace worked against him in close physical combat. The swing left a thin red line of blood rising on his forearm and the death magic from Helena’s blade leapt to the new wound like a hungry beast.