mages have been stalled in Headliners, but there are two other teams and— mierda ! They shot Elvis. Tell me it doesn’t show,” he demanded of someone on the other end of the line.
“They shot an impersonator?” I was surprised, if not precisely shocked. The mages were supposed to protect humans, not use them as target practice, although they seemed to forget that where I was concerned.
Casanova shook his head. “No, the real thing.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “No, no! Let the necromancers worry about the patch-up job; what do we pay them for? And have them raise Hendrix again, we’re going to need a sub.”
I lost track of the conversation because the swinging kitchen doors came flying off their hinges, straight at me. Pemphredo, whom I hadn’t even seen move, caught them and sent them spinning back across the room at the group of war mages who were pouring through the entrance. Enyo tried to stuff me under the table, but I caught her wrist. “How would you like to have some fun?”
She gave me a withering look. Obviously, she felt that our ideas of fun differed. “I’m serious.” I nodded at the mages, who were being attacked by a wave of hissing gargoyles that had apparently not appreciated the destruction of the doors. The mages were practically buried under a sea of thrashing wings and slashing claws, but I knew it wouldn’t last. “Enjoy yourself. Just don’t kill anybody.”
A big smile broke over Enyo’s face, making her look like a kid on Christmas morning, and the next thing I knew she’d picked up the massive prep table and thrown it into the breach left by the missing doors. She and her sisters ran across the room and hopped over it, cackling like the fiends they were as they took the offensive to the second wave of mages trying to get in.
“Bought us some time,” I told Pritkin, who was looking conflicted. He might be having problems with the Circle, but he obviously didn’t like the idea of them being play toys for the Graeae. Since the mages’ idea of justice was to drag me off to a kangaroo court and a quick death, I had no such problem. “Come on!”
Pritkin ignored me and pulled a mage out from under three gargoyles, who’d been introducing the man’s face to a cheese grater. Apparently, shields didn’t work so well against the Fey—judging by his agonized expression, it was a lesson the guy would probably remember.
Pritkin knocked him unconscious, then grabbed Miranda. She tried to bite him, but he had her around the throat and held her back from his face. That didn’t help the rest of him from getting badly clawed, but he grimly hung on. His concentration must have wobbled, however, because the silence bubble suddenly collapsed. He said something, but I couldn’t hear it over the klaxons, which drowned out even the gargoyles.
I couldn’t believe Pritkin was still fixated on that stupid geis . It seemed harmless to me, especially now that the Circle was finding out about the gargoyles all on their own. But I knew him well enough not to bother arguing.
“Miranda!” I screamed, literally at the top of my lungs. “Remove the geis ! Casanova will hide you from the mages!” That got her attention, and she turned those slanted cat eyes on me. She didn’t take her claws out of Pritkin, but I didn’t really care.
“You promissse? We not go back?” she asked, her voice somehow cutting through the din.
“I promise,” I yelled, nudging Casanova, who had waded through the battle to us. He looked alarmed, but I didn’t give him a chance to protest. “You know you can do it. Tony has all kinds of bolt holes around here.”
He rolled his eyes. “¡ Claro que sí ! Just go!”
Miranda smiled, a really odd expression on her furry face, since it flashed a lot of fang. “I remember thisss,” she told me, and suddenly Pritkin was holding a spitting, hissing and squirming ball of fur. A set of four deep scratch marks appeared on his face, and I
“They shot an impersonator?” I was surprised, if not precisely shocked. The mages were supposed to protect humans, not use them as target practice, although they seemed to forget that where I was concerned.
Casanova shook his head. “No, the real thing.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “No, no! Let the necromancers worry about the patch-up job; what do we pay them for? And have them raise Hendrix again, we’re going to need a sub.”
I lost track of the conversation because the swinging kitchen doors came flying off their hinges, straight at me. Pemphredo, whom I hadn’t even seen move, caught them and sent them spinning back across the room at the group of war mages who were pouring through the entrance. Enyo tried to stuff me under the table, but I caught her wrist. “How would you like to have some fun?”
She gave me a withering look. Obviously, she felt that our ideas of fun differed. “I’m serious.” I nodded at the mages, who were being attacked by a wave of hissing gargoyles that had apparently not appreciated the destruction of the doors. The mages were practically buried under a sea of thrashing wings and slashing claws, but I knew it wouldn’t last. “Enjoy yourself. Just don’t kill anybody.”
A big smile broke over Enyo’s face, making her look like a kid on Christmas morning, and the next thing I knew she’d picked up the massive prep table and thrown it into the breach left by the missing doors. She and her sisters ran across the room and hopped over it, cackling like the fiends they were as they took the offensive to the second wave of mages trying to get in.
“Bought us some time,” I told Pritkin, who was looking conflicted. He might be having problems with the Circle, but he obviously didn’t like the idea of them being play toys for the Graeae. Since the mages’ idea of justice was to drag me off to a kangaroo court and a quick death, I had no such problem. “Come on!”
Pritkin ignored me and pulled a mage out from under three gargoyles, who’d been introducing the man’s face to a cheese grater. Apparently, shields didn’t work so well against the Fey—judging by his agonized expression, it was a lesson the guy would probably remember.
Pritkin knocked him unconscious, then grabbed Miranda. She tried to bite him, but he had her around the throat and held her back from his face. That didn’t help the rest of him from getting badly clawed, but he grimly hung on. His concentration must have wobbled, however, because the silence bubble suddenly collapsed. He said something, but I couldn’t hear it over the klaxons, which drowned out even the gargoyles.
I couldn’t believe Pritkin was still fixated on that stupid geis . It seemed harmless to me, especially now that the Circle was finding out about the gargoyles all on their own. But I knew him well enough not to bother arguing.
“Miranda!” I screamed, literally at the top of my lungs. “Remove the geis ! Casanova will hide you from the mages!” That got her attention, and she turned those slanted cat eyes on me. She didn’t take her claws out of Pritkin, but I didn’t really care.
“You promissse? We not go back?” she asked, her voice somehow cutting through the din.
“I promise,” I yelled, nudging Casanova, who had waded through the battle to us. He looked alarmed, but I didn’t give him a chance to protest. “You know you can do it. Tony has all kinds of bolt holes around here.”
He rolled his eyes. “¡ Claro que sí ! Just go!”
Miranda smiled, a really odd expression on her furry face, since it flashed a lot of fang. “I remember thisss,” she told me, and suddenly Pritkin was holding a spitting, hissing and squirming ball of fur. A set of four deep scratch marks appeared on his face, and I
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