Magic Claims by Ilona Andrews

“Don’t know them, don’t feed them.”

Keelan’s words coming out of my kid’s mouth.

“Put simply, yes. But do you understand why?”

“Because we’re different.”

“From who?” I asked.

“Whom,” he corrected.

I let a little growl into my voice. “Conlan.”

“Yes, sir. We’re different from humans and other shapeshifters.”

Correct again. “We are. We’re stronger than both. Because of that, some people, like Keelan, will want to help us. Some people will want us to help them.”

“Like Mr. Calloway.” Conlan said.

“Yes, like that. And some people will want to hurt us. You need to be able to tell the difference.”

“Even other shapeshifters?”

“Especially those. We both know you could handle most humans. Even adults. But you’re young and there are shapeshifters that could hurt you.”

“Like the pigs.”

“Yes. If I wasn’t there. If Keelan and his people weren’t there that night, could you have fought both?”

A little bit of gold rolled over his eyes. “I would fight.”

Okay. Yes. He probably would. “But would you win?”

“Maybe.”

“No. You would have fought and died. I need to be sure that you know when to fight and when to run.”

“Did you ever run?” he asked.

I had. I’d run for my life. And I’d hid. I had done it for so long that after a while all I could remember was running and hiding.

“Yes, and I was older than you. Faster and stronger than you are now. That is why you’re going to run toward Keelan’s place. I will wait, and then I will chase you. Try to get to Keelan before I catch you. This is serious, Conlan. Act like this is real.”

My son smiled. “What do I get if I win?”

If it was real, everything. But he was a little boy, and this was a game to him. “If you manage to evade me and get there safe, I will take you to Penderton. If not…”

“I stay put.”

“Yes. Your head start is dwindling away. Best get moving.”





Kate





Fall in Wilmington was lovely. It was a perfect October day, full of golden sunshine and happy trees. The locals told us that the foliage wouldn’t turn until closer to November, and the poplars and maples shading the streets were just beginning to show hints of gold.

The sky was a crystal-clear blue, and a slight breeze stirred random hair that had escaped my braid. The temperature at our fort was always lower than inland, and I optimistically wore my favorite light hoodie, gray with a green stripe. If the weather turned any warmer, I’d have to take it off.

Around me, Wilmington buzzed as Cuddles made her way through the old streets at an unhurried pace. Since the Shift, foot traffic had increased because gas was expensive, chanting a car to life during magic took at least fifteen minutes, and horses needed to be fed, secured, and taken care of. If the destination was less than five miles away, most people opted for walking, and Castle Street channeled a steady crowd: craftsmen coming back from lunch, shoppers heading to the markets, laborers, businesspeople, a couple of mercs, all on their way to somewhere.

The hot red dot that burned in my mind got hotter. A vampire, ahead of me, not too far. I’d been watching it for about a mile, and I seemed to be getting closer.

To the left of me, on the empty lot, someone had set up a chicken market, and it had drawn a crowd. A couple of people on their bicycles stopped to crane their heads. The chicken vendor, a dark-haired older white man, waved a huge chicken around asking for bids. She was gray and fluffy and seemed content to sit in his arms like a docile cat.

“…lays five large brown eggs a week!”

That was a good-looking chicken with some serious egg-laying power. I should probably look into that.

The Order had chosen a historic firehouse as its lair. The old brick building rose on the corner of Castle and 5th Avenue, complete with a lovely red door and four-story tall tower housing a large metal bell. As I got past the chicken crowd, the tower came into view on my right. A green gaunt shape crouched on the tower’s top floor by the bell, shaded from the sun by the tower’s small roof.

There you are, precious. We finally meet.

The vampire sat perfectly still, like a mint-green gargoyle. If a navigator had come to visit the Order, they would’ve taken their undead inside. There were only two reasons why a vampire would end up in the Order’s tower. Either the Order and the Farm were cooperating on something and the undead was keeping watch, or Barrett and Claudia were taking potshots at each other, and Barrett had one of his necromancers park an undead there to annoy the Order.

Either way, this would be entertaining.

We reached the tower. I dismounted, secured Cuddles to the rail, and walked inside.

The interior of the firehouse looked just as I had left it about three months ago: a single bright room with brick walls, sealed concrete floor, and large windows secured by thick grates. The two desks on the left were occupied, one by an athletic man in his thirties with a handsome face and a ragged scar that crossed his neck, drawing a dark slash on his light brown skin, and the other by a trim woman in her early twenties with tan skin and short blond hair, frosted with red dye.