successfully harness the ley lines. If he’d known, he could’ve devised better protections. Instead, he’d worked on solutions for smaller-scale magical defenses and offenses, most of them utterly useless in this situation.
He hadn’t properly anticipated Momar’s abilities. He hadn’t armed Jessie with the information she’d needed, and she’d had to use herself to get the job done.
God, please, she had to be okay. Please.
The gargoyle who flew him grunted as a gun blast struck his leg. Sebastian should’ve stopped that too. He was starting to unravel, dammit.
Austin worked below them, taking blasts from guns and magic from the fleeing mages without blinking. He was blackened in places, bleeding in others, and ripping through the enemy like a feral beast. Dave and some of the other basajaunak had joined him, tearing through the enemy with glee. It was more than a little unsettling, and Sebastian was happy he’d ended up on this side of the divide.
He’d probably crap himself if he were trying to fight against that. The mages down there certainly were, their groups breaking up, their resolve splintering, many of them turning and running, only to be picked off by the gargoyles chasing them with potions and claws and aggression.
They had been certain their trapping shield would work. They didn’t seem to have any backup plans. It was now magic and guns against the shifter army, and the magical wielders were cowards.
Because of Jessie’s sacrifice, this battle had quickly and effectively tipped in Austin and Kingsley’s favor. Jessie had ensured they’d almost certainly win the battle…while she and Nathanial lay dying, one probably already gone.
“Go,” Sebastian said, tears stinging his eyes. “Hurry! Fly faster.”
He had to keep moving, keep fighting. He couldn’t fully unravel, not until the job was done. He owed it to Jessie.
NESSA
HER HAIR WAS MATTED to the side of her head where a mercenary had clubbed her with his gun. He hadn’t noticed the knife in his ribs until he was sinking to his knees. She spun, stowed her knife, pulled her gun over her shoulder, and shot an enemy who had somehow broken through the shifter line. Was he lost? Where the hell did he think he was going?
One of the garhettes chased a running mage who’d also wound up over the line. The enemy had clearly misplaced their sense of direction. Fear could do that to a person. An hour after the spell had come down, the mages who hadn’t already run in a blind terror were now trying to retreat. A few had gotten turned around.
The mage turned to shoot magic behind her, missing the garhette entirely and getting shot for her efforts. The mage faltered, staggering, and the garhette was there in an instant, jumping onto her and finishing the job. Those creatures were vicious as hell.
“Shadow,” Edgar said, puffing into human form right beside her. He was out of breath and paler than usual, his face drawn and terrified. “Shadow, it’s Jessie. Hurry!”
He puffed back into insects and darted in the wrong direction, not out toward the perimeter line where Nessa had assumed the mages would be fighting, but back toward town. Confused, suddenly
unsure, she started jogging that way. Gargoyles flew overhead, led by Tristan, east to west. They must’ve taken out all the enemy on their side and were crossing over to help the crew to the west.
That had to be good news.
With a glance over her shoulder to make sure no more enemy had broken through and would shoot her in the back, she started jogging back toward town. She hadn’t seen much action, surprisingly.
She’d hung back behind the shifters, since they were the more effective fighters, only getting anxious when the spell above and around them got redder and redder. Only being on two feet, though, there wasn’t anything she could do. The area was much too big for her to jog around, looking for Sebastian or Jessie, and even if she’d found them, she didn’t have the power to help much.
Thankfully they’d handled it, and Nessa had run forward with the weaker shifters, on hand in case anything got through their line. Not much had. Kingsley and Austin had done an excellent job of preparing their people to work together.
She nodded at an older garhette, posted on the sidewalk beyond the last house in town, patiently daring anyone to make it that far. Farther in, she found pack civilians heading in the same direction she was. Still farther, and coldness started to creep into her middle. Near the square, people sat in clusters, holding hands, some crying, some praying.
Nessa ran faster now, dread stealing over the coldness in her chest. In the square, most of the cots had occupants at this point, many of them moving or groaning. That was good—it meant they were alive enough to heal. They’d probably get through this.
A gargoyle landed not far away, holding a bloodied, limp wolf. Two pack women ran to them immediately. The gargoyle paused before pushing back into the air, looking over at a cot on the side.
He put his fist to his heart, then took off.
Nessa slowed down to carefully get between the beds without kicking anything on the ground or knocking into a nurse. A guy with an apron, his take on scrubs, noticed her. His face closed down, grim. He pointed in the direction the gargoyle had been looking.
“Oh no,” she breathed, weaving between the beds faster now and then stopping dead when she saw her. “Oh my God.”
There were no other words.
Actually, she had a few choice ones.
“Why is no one helping her?” Nessa demanded, stopping next to the bed and looking down on the mangled female gargoyle. Blood coated her purply-pink or blackened gargoyle hide, crusted in most places. Several close-range wounds from blasters had been sewn together. One wing was bent at an unnatural angle, and the holes in the webbing hadn’t been closed—probably because they weren’t bleeding. Tape was wrapped around her head, holding her jaw in place, and more tape held her leg straight. “Why is no one helping her? ”
“Whoa, whoa.” A garhette stepped up to Nessa’s side, wrapping her arms around her.
Nessa shrugged her off. “I don’t need cuddles. I need answers.”
Indigo sat, her hands on Jessie’s arm. Blood coated her scrubs and was smeared across her cheek.
“I’m keeping her from dying,” she said, her glasses askew. “That is taking all of my power. She has to pull herself back from the brink, and right now, she isn’t making the effort. I’m not sure she has anything left to give.”
Nessa stared at her, wetness pooling in her eyes, her world suddenly paling.
“She has plenty left to give,” she ground out, her voice breaking. “Plenty! She just needs help.
Edgar, come here. We’ve got work to do.”
Kingsley