Magic Rises by Ilona Andrews

dumped and he was sorry he was taking us with him. Eduardo told him to shut up and offered to throw him into a lifeboat, and then Barabas demonstrated that weremongooses did go zero to sixty in less than a second and offered to amuse himself by playing with Eduardo’s guts. They had to be told to go and sit in separate corners of the mess hall. I curled up next to Curran and fell asleep. If the ship decided to sink, there wasn’t much I could do about it.
    The magic drowned the technology soon after midnight. By morning the ocean had smoothed out and the ship had stopped trying to impersonate a drunken sailor at the end of his first night of liberty.
    We got some breakfast and I escaped the mess hall and climbed onto the deck. The sea lay perfectly calm, like an infinite translucent crystal, polished to satin smoothness. The magic engines made almost no noise and the ship glided over the bottomless blue depths. The ocean and the sky seemed endless.
    I surveyed the sea for a few long minutes and moved on to explore the deck. In the rear I found a large clear space marked by an
H
. A helipad. No helicopter in sight. I walked out onto the helipad. Such a nice clear space. I felt slightly off after sleeping on the floor. A little exertion would do me good. I stretched, turned, and kicked the air. And one more time. I launched a quick combination, jumped, and smashed my foot into an invisible opponent’s chin.
    “A knockout,” Curran said behind me.
    I jumped in the air about a foot and managed to land with some semblance of dignity. He had managed to sneak up on me again. Time to save face. “Nah. That wasn’t a knockout. I just staggered him a bit.”
    “I wasn’t talking about the kick, baby.”
    Oh. “Smooth, Your Furriness.” I backed up and spread my arms. “Want to play?”
    He pulled off his shoes.
    Five minutes later, we were rolling around on the helipad as he tried to muscle his way out of my armlock, after slamming me onto the helipad.
    “I finally realized the source of your mutual attraction,” Saiman said, his voice dry.
    I looked up. He was standing a few feet away.
    “Do enlighten us.” Curran tried to roll into me to break the lock.
Oh no you don’t.
    “You both think violence is foreplay.”
    I laughed.
    Derek came over, moving in that languid wolfish stride, took off his boots and socks, and dropped down into a one-armed push-up. He was still doing them fifteen minutes later, when Barabas and Keira emerged onto the helideck and began sparring. Barabas was shockingly fast, but Keira and Jim clearly shared a gene pool, because she just kept on coming.
    Andrea and Raphael were next, and then Eduardo, George, and Mahon also found the helideck. Watching Eduardo and Mahon spar was like watching two rhinos trying to wrestle. They smashed against each other and then puffed and strained for ten minutes without moving an inch. Finally, red-faced, they broke apart and shook.
    “Thank you,” Eduardo said.
    “Good match,” Mahon said.
    Raphael stripped off his shirt. He wore a black muscle shirt underneath that left his shoulders exposed. Andrea raised her eyebrows, clearly appreciating the view. Raphael walked out onto the helipad with a plain six-inch knife in his hand. It was the only weapon permitted during the Pack challenges, and during the marathon of shapeshifter attacks that earned me my place as the Pack’s “Beast Lady,” I had gotten very good use out of mine. Barabas joined Raphael. They clashed, lightning fast, and danced across the helipad. The core difference between a sword fighter and a knife fighter wasn’t speed or strength. When a swordmaster took out his sword, the outcome wasn’t always certain. He might have meant to injure his opponent or to disarm him. But when a knife fighter pulled out a knife, he meant to kill.
    Aunt B walked out onto the helipad wearing loose yoga pants. “I’m just here to stretch. Kate, want to help?”
    “Sure.”
    Thirty seconds later, as I was