Magic Claims by Ilona Andrews

The magic that saturated Penderton was moving, flowing back into the forest. It hadn’t retreated completely, but it had thinned, the bulk of it returning to its source. That thickness of magic was the only force suppressing the spores and now it was barely there.

I glanced at Rimush. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes.”

“This is a diversion.”

I jumped to my feet. Suddenly things became very simple. There was no room for doubt, and no time to waste. There was only a town filled with people who were counting on us to keep them safe.

I turned to Mayor Gene. “What’s the highest building in town?”

“Two choices: courthouse or water tower.”

The water tower wouldn’t have enough room for what I needed to do and there was a good chance it would blow up.

“How far is the courthouse?”

Gene pointed. I looked in the direction he indicated. A three-story brick building rose above the other houses, its white bell tower stretching to the sky.

“Half a mile, in the center of town.”

We could end up needing Gene to get into the courthouse without wasting time on guards and locked doors.

I turned to Troy. “Pick up the mayor and follow us.”

“I can walk,” Mayor Gene protested.

“Not fast enough.”

“Excuse me.” Troy scooped the older man into a bridal carry.

I took off down the stairs. Rimush followed. We burst onto the street and raced to the courthouse.

Streets flew by. A few more minutes and we emerged into the town square. The courthouse rose in front of us, a lone guard, a teenage girl clutching a sword, protecting the door.

“Let us through, Jenny!” Mayor Gene growled.

She jumped aside. I shoved the door. Locked.

“Troy!”

The werejackal set Gene down and kicked the door. It burst open. We ran inside, into a large chamber.

“Stairs?”

“In the back!” Gene hurried forward, to a double staircase at the back of the chamber.

Troy picked Gene up again and we took the stairs two at a time. Second floor. Third.

The stairs ended in a landing that opened to a long hallway.

“Left, around the corner!” Gene yelled.

I sprinted to the left, slid a little across the polished floor, and rounded the corner. Another short hallway ended in a door marked TOWER ACCESS. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. I hit it. Locked.

I kicked the door. It held.

I didn’t have time for this shit. I kicked it again.

It splintered around the lock and swung open, revealing a spiral staircase. I pounded up the metal stairs and burst into the tower. A waist-high wall encircled a square space under a domed roof. The bell was right above me.

I leaped over the wall and landed on the roof. The town spread out below me. Good enough.

I unsheathed Sarrat and took a deep breath.

Magic stirred inside me, a heavy dense mass that had slumbered deep in my soul.

Wind fanned my hair. The sun shone bright. Everything became crystal clear, as if someone had turned a dial, bringing the world into sharper focus.

I had done this a hundred times in practice, but I’d truly meant it only once. Every cell in my body remembered how that first time felt. The power of it. The burden. The weight of life and the heady flow of magic it generated.

A distant sound split the air, like an enormous slingshot snapping. A huge, dark object shot up above the forest, an ominous darkness growing larger as it sped toward us.

“Good Lord,” Gene breathed.

“What the fuck?” Troy snarled.

It had to be now.

I raised my sword point down, locking both hands on the hilt, and the ocean of magic inside me rose with it, building into a massive wave. A tsunami cresting.

The object had reached its apex. It was a bulb the size of a house. The forest had decided to devastate Penderton.

My body shook with the strain. There would be no do-overs.

On the street someone screamed.

The bulb was flying straight at us. Its bulk blocked out the sun.

I plunged Sarrat into the roof.

The wave inside me broke. Its power jerked me off my feet. I rose into the air. The geyser of magic burst out of me, pulling my arms out wide and arching my back. Words appeared on my arms, a poem written in the language of power and etched into my skin in the womb.

I opened my mouth and spoke with all the power of my blood.

“HESAAD.” Mine.

A pulse of red shot out of me, rolling over the town. My magic drenched the land. I felt it touch the wall and roll past it, over the farms and settlements, into the woods. I let it go for another couple hundred yards and held it back. That would be enough.

In a split second, my magic had soaked into Penderton, and the land responded, its power flooding back into me like a clear mountain stream. I wrapped myself in it, soaking in its energy and strength, and focused on the bulb falling onto the courthouse.

The bulb ignited. It was a flameless burning. It glowed like a piece of charcoal, turned to ash, and melted into nothing.

I closed my eyes and reached with my power, looking for the minuscule sparks of spores embedded in my land. A moment and I found them. All of them. They lay before me like a dusting of glitter across black velvet.

I snuffed them out.





The magic dropped me like a bad habit. I landed on my butt and slid down the slope. The edge of the roof rushed at me. I dug my feet into the shingles and ground to a stop just before taking a dive onto the pavement below.