Wildfire Page 71
Jettisoning the parts wouldn’t work. He’d tried that before with the construct we fought. It wrapped around him and tried to crush him. He would push it back, then it would crush him again. Of course, that time we had an active Prime manipulating the construct. This time we probably wouldn’t, but we had three constructs instead of one, and they wouldn’t be standing still while Rogan played telekinetic baseball with their particles. If they were made of a single piece, he would toss them so far and so fast, they’d make a sonic boom as they flew by. But they were made of many small parts, which meant targeting each part individually.
“Isolation is the most efficient,” Rogan said. “I need to bury them under something with sufficient mass and weight, so they can’t reform.”
“We could crack the wall for you, sir,” one of the team leaders said. “With the right charge placement, we can split it into chunks instead of blowing it up. We can’t guarantee that they would all be the same size, but we will do our best, sir.”
Rogan frowned. “I’d need a circle and time. We have to occupy the constructs until then.”
Occupy them . . . “Do they have target priority protocols?” I asked. “Would they be able to differentiate between a high- and low-priority target?”
Rogan’s face shut down. “No.”
“No, they don’t?” I clarified.
“No, I won’t let you do this.”
“Last time I checked, I wasn’t a vassal of House Rogan.” I smiled at him. “I can do whatever I want. And you know Sturm thinks I’m a high-priority target. Even if they don’t have target prioritization, the animator mage that’s going to activate them will recognize me.”
His blue eyes darkened. “No, you can do whatever I judge to be strategically sound. I have the numbers advantage in this operation, I’m in charge of it, and I’m telling you that’s too dangerous. You’re not playing bait.”
“Rogan, what exactly are you going to do if I don’t listen to you?” I asked. “Refuse to fight Sturm?”
“I can physically prevent you from approaching Sturm’s fort,” he ground out.
“No, you can’t,” Catalina said quietly.
Rogan’s magic splayed out around him, a furious elemental thundercloud. The magic-sensitive people in the room sat up straighter, unconsciously trying to put some distance between themselves and the churning power. It shot out and met the cold wall that was my magic.
We stared at each other. The tension in the room was so thick, you could slice it with a knife and serve it with tea.
Leon whistled a melody from a gunfighter Western.
Rogan crossed his arms, regarding me. “Just out of curiosity, how are you planning on surviving long enough?”
“She’s going to let her grandma handle that,” Grandma Frida said.
“I would like to help,” Edward Sherwood said.
The room turned to him.
“You’re not a combat mage,” Rynda said softly. “And you’re still recovering.”
“But I am a Prime. My brother is at the root of all this mess.” Edward’s jaw was set.
“Thank you,” Rogan said. “We can use your help.”
I crouched in the field. Rogan waited like an impassive statue next to me. A few hundred yards away Sturm’s compound glowed, a bright electric jewel in the midnight fields. We’d doubled around the compound, across the pastures. The only road leading to the compound lay on our left, where it ran into the gate and the main guardhouse inside the electrified fence perimeter. Another, smaller guardhouse waited to the right, and two more were behind the ring of the inner wall, out of sight.
The place looked like a prison.
Around me Rogan’s people waited, quiet shadows in the dark night. I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes left on the deadline Adeyemi gave us. We had cut it too close. The wind was rising, the air thick as soup with violent magic.
Behind me, Cornelius stood with his head bowed. Behind him, Diana and Blake, Cornelius’ older brother, waited quietly, eight jaguars sitting at their feet, three black and five golden. The big cats watched the night with their bottomless eyes. Matilda sat with the cats, a human child somehow part of their pack. I couldn’t figure out why everyone insisted on bringing her with us despite the danger. When I asked Diana about it, she just smiled.
Edward Sherwood stood by himself on a level stretch of ground. He’d been sprinkling seeds out of a large packet around himself for the last five minutes.
Nothing left to do but wait.
“Are you sure you want to use that old tank?” Rogan asked me for the third time. “I can still get you a better one . . .”
“Hey!” Grandma Frida reached out and poked him with her finger. “You can get her a newer tank, but not better.”
Another minute dragged by.
“The badgers are through,” Cornelius said, and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
The jaguars dashed into the night. Above them two owls soared. Both Diana and Blake looked into small tablets, whispering into their communication sets.
Cornelius came to sit by me. He looked haggard.
“Will the cats go through the badger tunnel?” I asked.
“Not under ordinary circumstances,” he said. “But they will do whatever we ask of them.”
The cats reached the edge of the light and slunk forward, moving silently.
Another long moment.
“What if they are seen?”
“They won’t be,” Cornelius said. “The word yaguar means he who kills in one bite. They don’t suffocate their prey. They pierce its neck with one bite. Their jaws can crush a human skull. In terms of an ambush predator, they are perfect.”
Another minute.
Tension rode me. I had to squish the urge to run into that field of light screaming just to let it out.
Another minute . . .
“They are through,” Cornelius said.
Nothing changed. From all outward appearance, the base appeared untouched.
Talon landed on Cornelius’ arm. Cornelius looked at Edward, who nodded. The animal mage handed a small sack to Talon. The hawk clutched it in his claws and flew off.
Time to get in position. I got up and moved across our perimeter to take my place with the small team in tactical gear. Six people formed up around my sister. Rivera was in front, Melosa behind Catalina, and Leon on Catalina’s left. I took the spot on her right.
Catalina looked down at her ballistic vest. She looked twelve in that helmet, vulnerable and delicate. The worry in her eyes punched me.
“Are you sure?” I asked for the fiftieth time.
“Yes.”
I put my helmet on.
On the far right, Edward Sherwood straightened and held out his hands. White grass sprouted around him, its stalks forming a complex arcane circle. Wow.
Seconds dragged by.
“It’s done,” Diana said in my ear.
“Team Alpha, go,” Heart said.
We took off through the field, aiming for the nearest guardhouse and its gate. A few breaths and the sheltering darkness ended. Suddenly we were in the light, exposed like sitting ducks. My sister was right next to me in a stupid helmet, and if there was a sniper on the roof, they could shoot her right in the face.
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, just do it.
I ran, trying to cover as much of Catalina with my body as I could.
Heartbeats echoed through my head, one, two, three . . .
We crouched by the gate. Rivera pulled out big wire cutters. Behind the fence, a guard slumped over the console inside the guardhouse. A wet red smudge marked the window.
The gate swung open. We dashed across to the wall and the door within it. One of the other ex-soldiers slapped a small charge on it. Rivera pushed us back, and we flattened ourselves against the wall.
The charge popped like a firecracker.
Rivera checked the door. Gunfire tore the silence. A siren screamed somewhere.
Rivera pointed to Leon and Melosa, and nodded to the door.
Leon lunged into the doorway, Melosa behind him, her magic screen flaring to shield them from the hail of bullets.
“Now!” Leon barked.
Four shots blended into one.