Visions of Magic

Chapter 15



Torin felt her presence the moment he and Rune flashed into the internment camp.

Standing in one of the guard towers, he let the body of the guard he had killed drop at his feet. Quick snaps of the neck and both men in the eastern tower were dead. He didn’t spare a glance to where they lay sprawled across the floor. They didn’t matter. They were predators. Kidnappers and worse.

Rune was even now dispatching those in the north tower, but Torin couldn’t think beyond Shea. Through the foggy haze of the white gold dampening her powers, her spirit called to his and electrified the beast within him.

For two days he and Rune had worked out the logistics of getting her out of this prison. Now that the time was here, he knew there would be casualties he couldn’t prevent. Deaths he couldn’t stop. Yet he had no choice. This could be their only chance. The Awakening had come and there was nothing more important to him than securing Shea and together accomplishing their task.

He and Rune had mitigated the danger as much as they could, reducing the damage that would be done here today. Now, it was left to the fates. In late afternoon the yard was crowded with prisoners. Shadows pushed out from the walls, inching across the ground even as the first brilliant colors of sunset stained the sky. Torin focused his concentration on the women below, searching for the one witch who called to him.

His head snapped up as a burst of gunfire chattered from the south and west towers. The guards had seen them. But instead of firing at the Eternals in the towers, the guards concentrated their fire on the prisoners. As if to kill them all before any had a chance at escape. Bullets sprayed wildly across the open expanse of the yard below. Women shrieked and ran for cover. Some dropped where they stood, their blood running across the concrete in scarlet rivers. In their quest to stop Rune and Torin, the remaining guards cared nothing for how many women died in the attempt.

Torin cared.

He instantly flashed to the west tower. A guard hastily swung his gun around, but Torin was faster. The man died with a howl of protest as his partner pulled a knife and stabbed Torin in the back. Pain lanced through him but didn’t stop him. He dropped into a crouch, came up fast and knocked the guard off his feet. Once the man was down, Torin pulled the knife from his body and returned it to the guard. Blade to the heart.

Eyes wide, mouth forming the word no, the second guard joined his partner in hell.

Below him, the women’s screams scraped the air, but through the frantic shouts and pleas, he heard one voice calling him by name.

“Torin!”

He leapt to his feet, scanned the ground below him and spotted his witch on the far side of the yard. Her long red hair lifted like a flag in the wind and she waved both hands high over her head. He smiled to himself, noting that Shea Jameson wasn’t cowering. She was standing tall and proud and his unbeating heart filled with admiration.

They hadn’t broken her. Not yet. Not ever.