“Fin.”
“Yeah, so anyway, I set up a camera or two. You know, the kind they use at sporting events, ’cause they can fly around after the action? Cost me something, ’cause I had to bribe some of their boys to do it since my guys . . . well, they’re good, but ‘good’ don’t mean ‘suicidal’—”
“Wait. You bribed some of the slavers to give you a feed of their activities?” I stared at him.
“Not of their activities. Just of a room. One near where the merchandise was bein’ kept, ’cause that’s what these two are after. The cameras only activate if there’s some major event for them to follow, like Big Blue there tear-assing through the place—”
“Why on earth would they do that? Why would anyone?”
Fin frowned at my obvious disbelief. “The head honchos wouldn’t, but the low men on the totem pole? They don’t make the big bucks, and figure what the boss don’t know won’t hurt him. Come on, Dory. You know how it goes. How many guys you bribed through the years?”
“Not that many.” I usually didn’t have the scratch. “And not slavers!”
“Well, it works the same way. And these guys, they never think they’re gonna get hit. It’s obviously gonna be the other guy.” He rolled his eyes. “So why not set up a camera in a closet or something and pocket some paper? Anyway, these two Rambos, they’re folk heroes. Two days and they’re folk heroes—”
“And you’re taking bets on . . . what?”
“Everything. Who’re they gonna hit next? How long does it take for them to clean house? How many head shots does Granny get—”
“I get the idea.”
“It’s a windfall! I haven’t made this much since the ley line races, and the odds kill you on those—”
“Do you know where I can find him?” I nodded at the screen.
Maybe I didn’t need Curly, after all.
“Sure I do. Right—” Fin stopped abruptly, looking behind him. Because he’d just noticed the same thing I had. The fight wasn’t over.
I heard several nearby patrons shout a warning, but of course, no one who needed it could hear. And Blue was either too tired, or too distracted by the handful of slaves coming up to thank him, to notice the men headed his way. One of the survivors must have called for backup, and it was coming in spades. I saw a group of men running down the now-deserted dock, saw them flood through the open doors, saw them lob a collective spell that sent shock waves through the air—
And then I didn’t see anything.
The feed had gone dead.
Chapter Thirty-four
Fifteen minutes later, Fin and I swerved onto a street and then screeched to a halt. Because the warehouse wasn’t dark anymore. Somebody had beaten us to the punch, and their guys were crawling all over the place, including one who magically appeared beside my car before I could slam us into reverse.
“Hello, Dory.”
I put the car in park and sat back against the seat. “Hi, James.”
I still had the top down on my old jalopy, so of course he’d recognized me. James was one of the guys whose retirement account I contributed to from time to time, because he made really good protection wards. Not having the ability to make any magic for myself, I had to buy it, and if you’re gonna buy, it may as well be from the best.
Of course, dealing with a member of the Silver Circle has its downsides, too.
James leaned on the driver-side door, and flashed some too-white teeth at me. Or maybe they just looked extra white next to his nice, chocolate mocha skin. And his suspicious brown eyes.
“Out for a ride?”
I smiled back. “Okay.”
He shook his head. He had a man bun of braids that nobody ever said anything about, like they didn’t question the full beard he wore, which I got the impression wasn’t regulation. Because when you’re as powerful as he is, people bend the rules for you.
But not for me, it seemed.
“Not tonight,” he confirmed.
“Why not tonight?”
“I think you know.” He gestured back at the old building. “We got a problem.”
“That’s too bad.”
He just looked at me.
I sighed. “Word is, some slavers got dead. I’d think that was the opposite of a problem.”
“It’s a problem when we don’t know who’s behind it, or where they’re going to strike next. This time, it was slavers. Next time—”
“It’ll be more slavers, if it’s anyone at all.” I thought of the strength of the spell that had hit Big Blue. “And it may not be anyone.”
The friendly guy I knew suddenly wasn’t. “All right, I’m gonna need you to come in.”
“Why? I don’t know any more than you do.”
“Well, it sounds like you do!”
“I only know what I saw.” I looked at Fin.
Who looked back, the tiny troll eyes disappearing into flaps of skin, his version of narrowing his eyes. Nobody likes talking to cops. But, after a minute, he coughed up an explanation.
It didn’t seem to help.
James glared at him. “You set up a feed of a highly illegal enterprise—”
“I didn’t know it was illegal. There were just these rumors.”
“—so you could take bets on the outcome?”
Fin bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I run a quality establishment. I pay my taxes. City, state, and federal, and then you guys on top! But the world’s gonna end if I ever try to make a buck—”
Two more of the Circle’s guys were suddenly there. Or, more likely, had already been there, but had decided to drop the kind of charms they use for camouflage. And promptly demonstrated why they’re not called police, or peace-keepers, or even law enforcement.
Oh, no.
They’re called “war mages,” and these two looked like that should have been “war tanks,” because the stupid trench coats they wear to cover up all the weapons they cart around were so distended that they made them look positively fat.
Like Father Christmas in leather.
Leather and scowls.
Wonder what they’d leave in a stocking, I thought, as one of them grabbed me.
And then lost me when I broke his hold and flipped over his head, landing on the street behind them.
“Ah, crap,” Fin said, and disappeared into the well of darkness in the floorboards.
Meanwhile I was suddenly facing two levitating guns, which was bullshit. Mages only do that when they need backup and have run out of hands, and there was nothing in their hands now. They just wanted to be dicks.
Okay.
I can be a dick, too.
A moment later, the guns were still levitating, but in pieces, and the barrels were mangled out of all use. Because mages never learn: levitating weapons are cool and all, but they still move at human speeds. I don’t.
“Cut it!” James barked at his men, before they could retaliate. And then shot me a warning look, too. “Don’t escalate.”
“I’m not the one who drew weapons.”
“You put your hands on an officer. You know better than that!”
“And you know better than to manhandle a senator, but I didn’t see that stopping you.”
It felt weird on my tongue, that word, like the fake title it wasn’t. Like something unearned, when it hadn’t been that, either. The coveted seats were always won through a combination of strength and politics, meaning that I had just as much right to one as anyone else.
And might as well get some good out of it, for as long as it lasted.
But it still felt strange, confusing. And I guess James agreed. Because he frowned and looked around, like he expected a senator to suddenly pop out of the bushes.
His buddies, who had finally realized they were down two guns, didn’t bother trying to figure it out. Magical talent is a requirement for joining the War Mage Corps, but intelligence isn’t. As they demonstrated by going for me again.
And getting their heads slammed down to the side of my car, which did not seem to improve their moods.
“Unhand us,” one seethed at me, while thrashing around. “Or we’ll unhand you!”
“Meaning?”
“Snap our shields shut on your wrists, and take your hands off in the process!”