Magic Strikes - By Ilona Andrews Page 0,101

we fighting today?" I asked, wishing I could brain him with something heavy.

"Rouge Rogues," Jim said.

"That's a joke, right?" Andrea's eyebrows crept up.

Jim shook his head. "No. Led by a Frenchman. He calls himself Cyclone. A bad bunch."

"The Frenchman knows me," I said.

Jim's gaze fixed on me. "How well?"

"Well enough," Curran said. "He's scared of her."

"Did he ever see you fighting?" Andrea asked.

"Yes. A long time ago."

"How long?" Jim asked. "How well does he know how you fight?"

If he tried to take me out of this fight, I'd rip him to shreds. "It was twelve years ago in Peru. I seriously doubt he remembers the finer points of my swordwork."

"What were you doing in Peru?" Raphael asked.

"Fighting in Hoyo de Sangre ." I watched it sink in. Yes, I was thirteen. No, I didn't want to talk about it. "As I said, it's irrelevant. He's a professional gladiator. He tours from arena to arena, drawn by prizes. He's a strong air mage and he favors basic powerful spells. He'll likely try an air lock or a hold. What else does he have on his team?"

Jim looked as if he'd bitten a lemon. "Assuming they will bring their best, he's got a troll as their Stone, a golem Swordmaster, and a vampire Shiv. A very old vampire."

"How old?" I asked.

"Olathe old," Jim said.

Inwardly I cringed. Olathe, Roland's former concubine, had used ancient vampires so old, they had to have become undead before the Shift, the first magic wave, when technically they weren't supposed to have existed. A vampire was an abomination in progress. The older a vampire grew, the more pronounced were the changes the Immortuus pathogen inflicted onto its once-human body and the more dangerous it became.

"The golem is silver," Jim said. "Sprouts blades in weird places. Preternaturally fast. Can't be cut; can't be pierced. The troll's hide is also nearly impossible to penetrate. I saw a spear bounce off. It worries me."

It would worry anybody. The vampire alone, even if the other three were paper cutouts, would give me a pause. As it was, the lineup was nearly impossible to beat. The vamp was deadly and wickedly fast. With two extra fighters and a mage, keeping the vamp from Dali would be nearly impossible.

Olathe had gotten her vampires from Roland's stable when she had fled him. Where did Cyclone get an ancient vampire, especially with the People's Warlord sitting right there in the stands?

I could crush the vamp's mind, but not without giving myself away.

"I can take the bloodsucker," Dali said. "If the magic is up."

Jim grimaced. "This isn't a regular vampire. You've never seen one like that. It's old ."

She shook her head. "The older, the better. But it will take everything I got. I can do it once and that's it. Then I'll need a nap."

I looked at Dali. If she took out the vamp, they would lock on her. Four to three, lousy odds, especially with an air mage in the mix. There was a way I could make her safe. It would be a foolish and reckless move under normal circumstances. But with d'Ambray watching, it qualified as mind-numbingly stupid.

If she failed, she had no protection against the vampire. It would tear into her and I would hear her scream.

"If you can take out the bloodsucker, I'll make you safe for the rest of the fight, provided the magic holds."

"How?"

"Blood ward. It locks all magic out, including your own. You cast the curse and jump into the ward. Once you step into it, it will keep you locked in. You won't be able to exit without my help. But nobody else will be able to enter."

Dali bit her lip. "What if it doesn't work?"

"You just have to trust me."

She considered it for a long moment. "Okay."

Jim shook his head. "Consider taking a fourth."

"No," Curran and I said at the same time. I didn't want any more friends on my conscience.

Doolittle sighed.

I rose. "This will take a bit of practice."

THE VAMPIRE CROUCHED BY CYCLONE, OOZING necromantic magic. Jim was right.

This one was old . No sign of it ever walking upright remained. It waited on all fours, like a dog that had somehow sprouted humanoid limbs tipped with stiletto claws. The last lingering echoes of its humanity had faded long ago. It had become a thing , so revoltingly alien and frightening it sent shivers down my spine.

Not an ounce of fat remained on its frame. Its thick skin clung so tightly to its steel-cable muscles

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