CHAPTER TWENTY
“Brandt!” Woody bellowed over the chatter of jade-tipped ammo. “The tunnel!”
“I see him,” Brandt grated, agony slashing through him as Iago’s shambling form disappeared through the far doorway. He roared and unloaded a volley of fireballs into the makol lines, but they barely made a dent, just as they had done every other time he’d tried to break through and follow Patience up the tunnel.
The green-eyed bastards had the Nightkeepers pushed back to the altar and trapped against the wall.
Rabbit and Myrinne were outside the makol line, but Rabbit was down, with Myrinne bent over him.
Michael’s death magic was shot and the other magi were sagging, their united shield magic flickering in and out.
They were fucking trapped. And Iago was headed for Patience and the boys. Brandt had sent her up there, and then he hadn’t protected her six like he’d promised. And he was getting only static through his earpiece. Please be okay.
“I’ve got to get through!” he shouted to the others. “I have to—” Suddenly, unexpected gunfire erupted from behind the makol, and the two creatures closest to Woody and Brandt went down in a bloody spray. Behind them, Myrinne was firing two-handed, blasting a hole in the line. “Go,” she shouted. “Run!”
“Come on!” Brandt dragged his winikin through the gap.
The makol reacted quickly, spinning and firing point-blank. Strange, fiery orange shield magic flared to life and blocked the first attack, but then died off just as quickly as it had appeared. Out of the corner of her eye, Patience saw Rabbit slump back and lose his brief grip on consciousness.
But his shield had provided the distraction the other Nightkeepers had needed. They unleashed a deadly hail of magic and bullets, working to drive the makol away from Myrinne and Rabbit and bring the two into the Nightkeepers’ faltering sphere of protection.
Strike bellowed, “Go. We’ll be right behind you!”
Brandt bolted through the light-magic doorway and into the tunnel beyond, with Wood at his heels.
Darkness swallowed them, but there was faint torchlight up ahead.
Moving silently, they approached an irregular opening that had been disguised as a water-worn depression in the tunnel wall. Brandt motioned for Wood to go low while he went high, and together they swung through the doorway.
The room was empty, save for a pile of greasy makol ash.
Woody gave a low groan. “They were sitting right there when Iago came for me.” He indicated a scuffed spot. “There was one guard.”
One guard. One ash pile. Which meant Iago was still out there, in search of the sacrifices he needed as the equinox approached.
Brandt jerked his head at the door. “If they’re not in here, they’re further up the tunnel. Come on.”
They returned to the tunnel and started up in the direction of the cave-in. He tried to gather fireball magic as he ran, but he was tired, his power drained, and he managed only a weak gleam that quickly winked out. He stumbled on his bad leg and nearly went down.
Wood grabbed him, steadying him as they kept going. “Screw the fireball,” the winikin said, voice rough with pain and exhaustion. “We’ll use the guns.”
“The jade-tips barely dented the regular makol down below,” Brandt argued. “They’re not going to do shit against Iago.” They needed something stronger. Far, far stronger.
Like the Triad magic.
Despair slashed through him. “Wood, I—” He cut himself off, refusing to let the oath be the answer.
Gunfire split the air, coming from up ahead.
“Fuck!” Adrenaline hammered and Brandt took off at a dead run, with Woody right behind him. At the sight of torchlight around a corner, they got up against the wall. Taking high and low again, they looked around the edge.
“Give it up.” Iago’s voice rattled and slurred. He had his back to them; the torchlight shone on waxy, misshapen flesh that not even the makol’s regenerative magic had managed to heal. Blood-
spattered and ragged, he gathered dark magic with jerky movements, holding on to a shield spell while he built a thick, greasy churn of fighting magic.
Opposite him, Patience bared her teeth. “I. Don’t. Give. Up.” Her dirty face bore the evidence of tears, but her chin was up, her eyes fierce. Behind her, Hannah and the boys were huddled together against a section of rockfall, protected by a shield spell that flickered and spat red-gold as it cut in and out. Patience stood guard in front of them with an autopistol in one bloodstained hand, her knife in the other, and shield magic crackling in the air around her.
Relief hammered through Brandt. They were alive. Whole. Thank fuck.
Braden’s eyes locked on him and widened.
No, Brandt thought as loud as he could, hoping against hope that something would get through the bloodline link. Pretend you don’t see—
“Daddy!” The word rang out over the crackle of magic.
Shit. Brandt threw himself around the corner with Woody half a breath behind him. He tore magic from somewhere deep in his soul and launched a fireball just as Iago let rip with his bolt of dark energy.
The opposing powers collided and nullified each other. Magic detonated, the backlash slamming Brandt aside. He hit the wall hard and slid down.
The world tried to gray out, but he didn’t let it. He dragged himself to his feet, surprised to realize that the magic had blasted him and Woody toward the rockfall, Iago away from it. The enemy mage lay farther back down the tunnel, protected behind a shield of dark magic that blocked off any hope of escaping while he was down.
But Brandt had ended up where he belonged: with his family.
“Daddy.” Braden lunged at him.
He barely got his arms up in time to make the catch, almost went down under the impact, but he didn’t care. He hugged his son tight, aware that Patience had cast a sputtering shield spell around the six of them. A second body thudded against him as Harry followed, clinging to his thigh, face buried in his body armor. He was shaking.
Brandt got an arm around him. “I’ve got you. I’m here. It’s okay.” The words poured out of him, promises he couldn’t guarantee, but meant with every fiber of his being. He reached out blindly and caught Patience’s hand, latching on. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
And they were running out of time.
“Go help Hannah,” Patience urged the boys. Once she had their attention, the winikin herded the boys to the farthest corner of the rockfall, where a tongue of debris created a bit of protection. There, they started piling rocks into a barrier. Woody was searching the area, scrounging the last of the autopistol clips.
Iago was still down and out, but the strong shimmer of dark magic surrounding him warned that the bastard wasn’t dead.
As the clock ticked down in his head, Brandt took his wife in his arms, surrounding her, holding on to her, filling himself with her. “Thank you.” Gratitude hammered through him. “Thank you for saving them. For not quitting on me.”
“We’re not out of this yet.” But she turned her lips to his. “You’re welcome. And thank you for trusting me.”
Beyond the torchlight, Iago twitched and then stretched. Moving. Regenerating.
I can’t take him. Brandt held her tighter, hating the truth. He was shot, with barely enough magic left to feed the faltering shield spell. There was no way he could muster an attack, or defeat an opponent who wouldn’t stay down.