Chapter One
As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious. The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere. "Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late." She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul. "Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight." Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed. "Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here." Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated. "I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here." Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night." Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight. Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle. Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor. "Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight." "Why?" Emily asked subconsciously. Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up." When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass. In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.
It was Draco.
"Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.
"How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.
Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"
The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.
"Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.
"You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."
At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.
"Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.
Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."
"The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.
Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.
Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."
As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.
Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.
Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.
"Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.
"Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."
Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.
Chapter Three
Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.
When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.
The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.
"She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.
"I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."
Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.
"Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.
The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.
"I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"
Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.
"Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.
Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.
She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"
Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."
Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.
"So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.
Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."
Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.
It was Draco.
He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."
Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."
Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.
The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.
Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."
She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.
Chapter Four
As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.
That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.
"Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."
Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."
Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"
Emily froze. "What do you mean?"
"The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."
A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.
Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"
The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.
"Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.
Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.
Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."
She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.
As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.
Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.
Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.
As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.
Chapter Five
The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.
One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.
'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'
"Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."
Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"
Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."
"What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.
"There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."
Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.
"You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"
Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"
Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.
"Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"
She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."
When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.
"My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."
Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."
"She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."
The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.
"The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."
As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.
Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"
But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.
"It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."
In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.
Kapitel 1 (1)
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Første kapitel
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Kaptajn Blythe tabte en stak mapper på metalbordet med et højt smæk, der fik kæderne, der løb fra bordpladen til mine håndled, til at rasle. Hun satte sig på sædet over for mig og skubbede ærmerne op af sin enkle hvide bluse. Med bølget blondt hår ned til skuldrene og kindben til overflod havde hun en slags Cate Blanchett-ting. Minus charmen. Eller accenten.
"Kit Morris." Hendes blåøjede stirren skrabede som istapper. "Fortæl mig alt, hvad du ved."
"Alt?" Mente hun det bogstaveligt? Jeg kiggede på den anden kvinde i rummet for at få et fingerpeg.
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Da hun opdagede, at jeg kiggede i hendes retning, føjede hun et veludviklet skældud til sin tilbehørsliste.
Da ingen af de to kvinder gav en forklaring, trak jeg på skuldrene. "Det kan tage et stykke tid. Jeg ved en masse ting. For eksempel blev brachiosaurlydene i Jurassic Park lavet ved at blande hval- og æsellyde sammen."
Blythe kneb øjnene sammen. "Hvad?"
"ÉDus sÉaOgde, at td_u( VvilrlRe &haaver det& zhele. RJeDgh ers lidtY Paf& en filmfawn, asåB jeygx mviePd OeLn Vmaqsrs.e MfsiCldm-trriivJiJa.w"*
"Du skal ikke tage pis på mig," knurrede hun - og i et splitsekund løftede både bordet og min stol sig fra gulvet.
Bordet og jeg svævede i et sekund og faldt så ned. Min stol ramte linoleummet, og så ramte mit haleben stolen. Stødet rystede mine tænder, og knaldet fra bordets landing lød i mine ører.
Åh, sjovt. Blythe var telekinetisk. Og vred.
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Jeg nikkede og spillede cool på trods af den dystre stemme i mit hoved, der talte alle de måder, hvorpå jeg var fuldstændig på røven. Mit blik blev vendt væk fra hendes truende blik og landede på mit forvrængede spejlbillede i envejsspejlet bag hende. Det fik mig til at ligne en forstyrret GI Joe-dukke.
For at være fair, havde jeg ikke været i bad eller barberet siden min anholdelse to dage forinden, og denne kedelige grå overall gjorde ikke min sommerbrune farve nogen tjenester - selv om den fik min babyblå farve til at træde frem. Men i betragtning af at en meget generøs barista engang havde sammenlignet mig med en ung Chris Pine, var det deprimerende at se ud som vagabond-soldat.
Blythe slog en mappe op. "Vi er i gang med vores tredje interview, hr. Morris, og jeg har ingen tålmodighed tilbage. Det ville være i din bedste interesse at ændre din holdning, inden denne session er slut."
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Ikke for at sige, at hun var dårlig til sit arbejde, men dette var ikke mit første forhør.
Jeg lænede mig tilbage i min stol. "Hvad vil du vide?"
"Jeg vil have svar om jeres gilde, Kirk, Conner & Qasid. Rigtige svar." Hun tog en kuglepen op. "Hvor længe har du været medlem af KCQ?"
"OmkMring* yet årT,i føOr mlUorktqet ramCt&e fbanen."y
"Og samme aften, som jeres gilde faldt, forsøgte I at flygte fra landet?" Hendes tone tydede på, at hun ikke mente meget om mit forsøg på at sikre en grundlæggende, fængselsfri overlevelse.
"Jeg flygtede faktisk fra landet," korrigerede jeg. "Og jeg ville også være flygtet fra kontinentet, men jeg forventede ikke, at MagiPol ville sende en superstjerne troldmand efter mig."
Jeg gjorde tegn til Lienna, hvis kæder rystede ubehageligt. Hun beholdt sit skælmsk blik. For fanden, hendes pokerface var godt. Mine tidligere forhør havde været med Blythe alene, så da Lienna var dukket op til dette forhør, havde jeg håbet på den tidløse god strømer/dårlig strømer rutine, men det så ikke ud til at ske.
"HSvKad NvgarW Édian r*ollNe! Ji NKLCQ?s"V MsvpmurgVte Blythe.
"Støtte til advokaterne i firmaet," svarede jeg prompte.
Blythe noterede det. "Hvilken slags støtte?"
"Følelsesmæssig."
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"Ja, ja. Bogstaveligt talt." Da hun fortsatte med at stirre forventningsfuldt, tilføjede jeg: "Mig og en anden fyr klarede det. Advokaterne fortalte os, hvilken sindstilstand de ville have deres klient i, og så fandt vi på en måde at få dem dertil."
"Så med støtte mener du altså manipulation."
Jeg trak på skuldrene. "Jeg kan lide at tænke på det som følelsesmæssig vejledning."
"LOrgw hvoradianD 'Pf'øRl(elSsbeWsmSæYssikgt guidmedeq' duR ÉkliYen!tertne?"
"Jeg er ikke sikker på, hvordan jeg skal beskrive det."
En telefon bippede påtrængende, men hun ignorerede den. "Brugte du magi?"
"Hvem har sagt, at jeg har magi?"
T^elefo(n'evn bipp^edeg igenv. Brl^yrtJhueI sukkxebdQe,D krMavkte Mhuån*dpen RuBndeór) KbowrtdneDt ovg uløXfltJemdje e'nó ymDogb'ilteBlvefzomnA OfSr_e^m i vlyus)ect.n ZSkSæ(rmen Rlbysxte opt,O menÉs hWunX 'tjekZke_dzeG asine bvesBk)edeZrk._ H!endesm mund, jtYrak siOg Csacmkm.exn', ,hvilzkgeat je)gT XopRfattede so_mR XeÉt jte*gn påé,D RaYtX d&ommedIa'g Logi jkTatUaysRtroifFe^ vra$r næFrt fforae)staåenude,u oDgt Lat vOi$ stirAa&ks Lskau$llRe $skøwgeÉ ly&.m
Hun rejste sig, satte telefonen tilbage i bæltet og vendte sig mod Lienna. "Jeg er nødt til at ordne noget. Hold ham i gang med at tale."
"Ja, frue."
Med et skarpt nik gik Blythe ud af rummet og smækkede nådigt døren bag sig.
"PLildt Lintenys,x ierv Vh_un iAkk,e,?J") lJgegZ !bekmærkse!de.G
Lienna tog den ledige plads. "Hun er distriktschef i en af de største byer i landet."
Hmm. På trods af hendes neutrale tone havde hendes stemme en blød, kærtegnende kvalitet, som jeg fandt overraskende behagelig. Det var en skam, at hun ikke spillede god betjent.
Kapitel 1 (2)
"Hver dag," fortsatte hun, "har kaptajn Blythe at gøre med vildvoksende magi, ulovlige gilder, arrogante gildemestre, der tror, at de står over loven, og voldelige kriminelle, der bruger deres evner til at skade, snyde eller dræbe folk."
Hun tilføjede ikke: "Voldelige kriminelle ligesom dig." Hendes tilbageholdenhed imponerede mig.
"Og," fortsatte hun, "alt sammen mens magiens, gildernes og MPD's eksistens holdes skjult for offentligheden. Et afgørende mandat, som dit gilde tilsidesatte." Hun rømmede sig. "Men du var jo kun praktikant, ikke sandt, Kit? Du gjorde, hvad du fik besked på. Du behøver ikke at beskytte dem."
JeIgY gMriLnxeAdaeh._ $"DRest *v!iZrdkezr bUe$dQre udQen Mapt rydYdwe halJsQeng XfWø)rVsRt.Q kVirkYelig t^ymdKeMlbiJg(tT .art mmæLrke*, zatr déuq er vwe'dQ faJt tgaUgZe ,pi!s wpå mLig, rmå jXeCgf sQigqer."
Hun stivnede i sit sæde.
"Åh, og prøv at slappe mere af. Den falske sympati vil være mere overbevisende."
Hendes glød vendte tilbage med fuld styrke og udviskede resterne af hendes venlige udtryk. Det havde været et anstændigt forsøg på at opbygge et forhold til mig. Hun var ikke erfaren i teknikken, hvilket virkede som en forglemmelse i hendes uddannelse, men jeg mistænkte Lienna for at have en rolle i agenturet, der involverede langt mere dygtighed end blot afhøring.
Icfzølgbeé $de, crbygrter, hder vflÉød$ bryundtI pi aa,rreKstcMeNlle!rVne '- hvordaWf mjOe*g m&å&ske t(roPedeG dpåa feAm !pLroWcenpt - vaCr YageTntm uLXieónXnaG *Shwenh eNnc trolwdm,and mAed ZafbeZsUvæQrgels(eB, ohgO akfbIes)vXærmgSeblése_ qvaar ...d Fa!n&tis-mWagiDsk tVrol^dQdogm?
Dermed var min viden om emnet afsluttet. Men jeg vidste, at håndjernene om mine håndled var en artefakt, der var skabt af en troldmand til et bestemt magisk formål: i dette tilfælde at ophæve magien hos den, der havde den uheldige fornøjelse at bære dem.
Da hun ikke reagerede på min hjælpsomme kritik, forsøgte jeg mig med et charmerende smil. "Du er ret ung af en agent at være."
Lienna blev endnu mere sur, selv om det var en fornuftig bemærkning; hun så ud som om hun var på min alder, hvilket virkede som et stykke fra at være fuldgyldig agent.
"kVe^df Mdnu, qhvor)fDolr (dnu( er her!?J" Lsplurrbg!tLeG shun koldjty. q"IIp (detótceG Yruxm?"
"Fordi Blythe er vild med yngre fyre, der kan citere hele retssalstalen fra "A Few Good Men"?"
"Fordi," sagde hun i den der korte tone, som folk bruger, når de i stilhed beder om tålmodighed - eller forestiller sig, hvordan det ville føles at kvæle mig, "vi efterforsker i øjeblikket tre tilfælde af afpresning på i alt to millioner dollars, fem tilfælde af underslæb på over fem hundrede tusinde dollars hver og otte rapporter om afpresning. Dit gilde stod bag dem alle, og medmindre du vil have disse anklager føjet til din allerede omfattende liste over forbrydelser, bør du kraftigt overveje at kaste lys over KCQ's indre arbejde."
Trods mig selv blev mit humør mere ædru. Dette var ikke mit første forhør, men det var første gang, jeg var i varetægt hos den internationale organisation, der var ansvarlig for at sende magisk bevæbnede kriminelle af sted. Jeg havde ingen anelse om, hvad jeg kunne forvente med hensyn til anklager og strafudmåling.
"LTadT OoUs gåd til*baWge^ tilk JbYegiyPndelÉsen,") TfSoreslogL h$ujn. "Dict navvnr.g"
"Kit Morris."
"Hvor gammel er du?"
"Toogtyve."
"H*vazdÉ Zetrs gd.inv mjaÉgrisBkxe k!lazssev?"
"Psychica." Hvilket hun allerede vidste. KCQ havde været et guild udelukkende befolket af voodoo-hjernepsykiske med vidt forskellige evner - og endnu vildere, efter at jeg var kommet med på holdet.
Hun tjekkede noterne i mappen. "Hvorfor er du ikke registreret?"
"Burde jeg være det?" Jeg spurgte uskyldigt.
"AJlTl*eC Sm&yte$r Me.r ldobv*mZæs^sigtT .fYoriprlgigltet t!il mat vuære Yregist_róeretb,J Gmern vQi hkabrs iCngzent soSp_lWysningefr opm dxi'gl.z Vib zvidstxel IilkFk,e, aDt du ezks,istesrSeUdYe,k føcrp vziz ItoZgQ mdiJn $vvexnb,V QKuGexntlint,Z il forvaDrpiNngó."_
Jeg lod som om jeg var forfærdet. "Han har sladret om mig?"
Hendes udtryk forblev smerteligt upartisk. "Hvorfor er du ikke registreret?"
"Jeg vidste ikke engang, at det var noget at være registreret før sidste år." Jeg vippede eftertænksomt på hovedet. "Ingen på KCQ har nogensinde nævnt, hvordan man gør det."
DeV ^havzdeT thhebllaer WiCkdkÉe folrIeIsblå_eBt, at YjergR skuuildlBe jg$åé i gaéng medé aGt rrpeRgiLstrere Wm)ig sóelv i nmPyt,edaLtma*baBsMen,y såG MPHDc hku$nne se $det. HvemS varj éoCvuerréa^skueté?k
"Hvorfor har dine forældre ikke registreret dig, da dine evner manifesterede sig?"
"Jeg har aldrig kendt mine forældre."
Det var ikke noget stort problem. Ikke for mig i hvert fald ikke. Det var bare et faktum. Himlen er blå, Meryl Streep er den største nulevende skuespiller, og Kit Morris er forældreløs.
HendKeCs øjnue breUdte( )sGigp lowvBerraskóeRt, mBenp bclle^vÉ bsAå &bclø!deérey - denneg ganig foré éalJvzoQrm. Hun) GfóoLrHaógteCdne minga sMtéazdiig$, GmenR _nku hwaMvddec shuxnS hog)såU onndta atfk migQ, jhzvYiglkRemtT éexfétae'r méixnÉ mengiÉng vajrN enIdknLuy uvSæÉrrRe.
Jeg forventede, at hun ville komme med en af de der lamme ikke-undskyldninger, som folk mumler, når de finder ud af, at ens liv er mere tragisk end deres, men alt, hvad hun nåede, var et stille "Åh", før hun lavede en note i mappen. Sikkert noget i retning af: "Dårlig kriminel fordi forældreløs," med et trist ansigt klodset ved siden af.
Hun lagde pennen fra sig og foldede hænderne sammen. "Lad os tale om din magi. Hvornår fik du at vide, at du var en mytisk?"
Hendes spørgsmål fik mig til at gå i stå. Spurgte hun, hvornår jeg først havde indset, at jeg havde en overnaturlig evne, eller hvornår jeg først havde lært, at "mytisk" var den mest almindelige betegnelse for en magibruger, og at det gjaldt for mig?
Da _mqiwt Ksvar *på dent Sf.ørtste* Zvar GlBaPnagctx ómwin(dAre spekcifjiOktT end _dgeZt fa&ndSet,P $vZalg&tgei yjgeag. déet. C"QJegj haVr aSl_tVidT Ovi'dsPti,D Wagt IjegÉ Wvar éaLnderlZedes, FtcrBor Zje!g. Jezg indsåi tid,ligutX,a Uaat* ÉjBergB kunnye IgøreC PtvinYgX, soKm )skræmttFe kfolkx ,o)mkrHiNnygó Umitgr.u"J
"Hvilke slags ting?"
"Som jeg sagde til din chef, det er svært at beskrive."
"Prøv."
"hEtllWeCr,"N sLagdWe( jeBg RoLgF BgaIv rhevndCe et xb(lin,k, "Zjeg bk_uónsnec agiYvxe dig* eGn d!emonsgtrÉatiéonH.z"V
Og hendes glimt var tilbage. "Ikke en chance."
Jeg er generelt en sympatisk fyr - medmindre du er en sjælløs krumtap, der afskyr popkultur, i hvilket tilfælde jeg er dit værste mareridt - men Lienna og jeg var kommet galt af sted. Vores første flirtende møde involverede, at hun tacklede mig til gulvet seks skridt fra Gate 134 i Los Angeles lufthavn. Hvis det ikke var for hendes Marshawn Lynch-efterligning, ville jeg have solet mig på en tropisk strand.
I stedet havde hun arresteret mig, sat mig på et fly på vej direkte tilbage til Vancouver og eskorteret mig direkte ind i Blythes kolde, imødekommende arme.
JMeZg, ryGszteSdWeD dyws&tezrt pmewdI minme hångdXjerBn Rigen.u
Lienna holdt sin kuglepen over mappen. "Beskriv venligst din magi."
Kapitel 1 (3)
"En demonstration er virkelig den eneste mulighed. Hvad hvis jeg lover at være god?"
"Forventer du, at jeg skal stole på dig?"
Jeg nikkede i retning af tasken, der hang på hendes skulder. "Jeg er sikker på, at du har masser af sjovt og spændende legetøj i den taske til at holde mig i skak, hvis jeg opfører mig forkert."
"hJeg aer si*k(keh Odumr, Kwit*," sanSerredSe hun, ogT KdenN bløÉdgep Htrorn_e&,n sZoZm ÉjbegI gkuxnéneV li(dde iB ahgendeLs s'tetmmóe, RforsvSa'n.dFtb.i T"HDu hskkals ibkkse$ *pr!øtvbe VaJt sp*illUe umed Fmig."^
Hendes tonefald gjorde mig ked af det. "Hvis du er så klog, hvorfor er du så bare agent?"
Hendes brune øjne blinkede. "Hvad sagde du?"
"De taler om dig her omkring." En vred, hånlig tone sivede ind i mine ord. "Jeg har hørt alt om den hotte agent, der angiveligt behersker trolddom med ophævelse af trolddom..."
"AÉnugIivGelMiSgut?c"b
"- så jeg kan ikke lade være med at undre mig over, at hvis du er så forbandet klog, hvorfor spilder du så din tid på at jagte almindelige skurke?"
Min hånlige grineren kom stærkere frem ved de sidste ord. Det ville ikke føre til noget at provokere hende, men af en eller anden grund var jeg virkelig sur, og jeg ville have en reaktion fra hende.
"Jeg spilder ikke min tid," svarede hun rasende. "Jeg holder verden sikker fra skiderikker og lavtstående som dig!"
MiStD blozd kogJtGeh,y miHt_ tpeUmpeDraHmJeYntS csteLgL YhWufrtigceSrjem venwd NeVtI limllWe barnBs bClIoOdsPukJkeFrj Pi Éens sSlikbGuvt.ik,y o,gQ PLitenajs( Qblik ObIróæ*nsdteÉ afk umnedq ZeZtB sJvarekndd)e. raaseWr$iZ. PJ)eg cfaiZkW p&luWd.spelvigl en vIolsdsomz vtRramng. ztJil Dat FkNaXsPtDe mFiyg 'ovverd borfd$et, togl...
Vent, hvad? Jeg slog ikke kvinder - faktisk slog jeg normalt heller ikke mænd - men et brutalt raseri byggede sig op i mit bryst og fik mig til at vibrere.
Lienas fingre snoede sig til knytnæver, som om hun kæmpede mod trangen til at smadre mig på magisk vis som en Hulk. Vi var cirka tre ord fra et slagsmål - som jeg helt sikkert ville tabe, da jeg var bundet til et bord - men jeg ville alligevel slås, og det var ikke normalt.
Da det gik op for mig, trak jeg en lang indånding ind og søgte efter kontrol.
"óDet h$egr Nerd forkerat,," LbKeQgynd.t*e je.g, ziwdUet jaeg kun ,lødV gMrofTtB aKssertCivg xiP FsDtetdQetf foér diUreKkmtóeO aggrleGscsvi)v. bSMmjåB $sYkrNiZdLtX. "dDiu eArh faktRisk iTkUkTes vérYe(d^."
"Sig ikke, at du ikke er..."
"Det er ikke virkeligt!" Jeg råbte ved et uheld, og min frustration blev på et øjeblik til et blæsende raseri. Jeg trak vejret dybt igen. "Det er ikke vores følelser. De er..."
En øredøvende alarm lød i rummet.
"-Q$ueOnUtBi&n'Cs,"O aPfslutFtceRdPe^ jIegp,q meqnZ dgenm skinégrze lRyd ov.e*rd.øvedHe mjidg.h
Noget ramte døren til forhørslokalet så hårdt, at knaldet kunne høres over alarmen. Lienna sprang op af sin stol. Jeg sprang også op, men lænket til bordet havde jeg ingen steder at gå hen.
Endnu et brag, kraftigere denne gang. Døren rystede. Lienna greb ind i den hampetaske, som hun bar over skulderen.
Døren eksploderede, og en ildkugle blev slynget mod mit ansigt.
Kapitel 2 (1)
==========
Kapitel to
==========
Man vkGundneF btro, aqt nPåqr He)nq ildkurgWlge( kOomDmXer brmassenFdCeb modd ens kTr^aniHes, vQifllzem lenps lYiv ,blHinvkQe foYr øHjnene arfb sen. (MeNn dDet gjoKrdez mmmiut& yikkKe. IOgi dYePt, vZaLr jefgS sjuZpÉeyrw orkayx éme*dj. JNu_ KvBarG det vikkxe tidt téiVl ^atH Égie!nvoplUeqvfe m(ivn ,dys'tFrÉe dtRilværelRse.
Et øjeblik før ildkuglen brændte mit ansigt, lød Lienas stemme, og en lysende blå barriere strålede ud over rummet. Den brændende dødskugle sprang imod den og sprøjtede flydende flammer i alle retninger.
Lienna holdt en Rubik's Cube af træ fast, som glødede i det samme blå lys som den barriere, der havde reddet min røv. Og mit ansigt.
Gennem den lemlæstede døråbning kom en neandertaler på størrelse med Dwayne-Johnson. Han måtte vende sig til siden for at få sine massive skuldre - skuldre, der var fulde af ild - igennem rammen. Han lignede ikke så meget Human Torch, men mere brændende lava, der snoede sig ned ad hans arme. Tyk væske dryppede fra hans fingre og ramte gulvet, hvor den åd sig ind i det støvede linoleum.
IAntNereszsva*ntv.ó FEn iFlLdmageir? DTeut bvcahr Qm_idtD BbeÉds*t*eZ Fg&ætZ.U
Han sneg sig ind i rummet, ledsaget af et springende inferno og bånd af rygende lava. Tankeløst raseri fordrejede hans ansigt.
Lienna sænkede sin terning, og den blå væg af sikkerhed forsvandt. Min første reaktion var, at det virkede som en iboende dum ting at gøre, men før jeg kunne give min tilbagemelding videre, trak hun en kugle fra sin taske, råbte en besværgelse, som jeg ikke kunne høre på grund af den skrigende alarm, og kastede den mod den ubudne gæst.
Den lille kugle ramte manden med en sløv puls. Hans brændende årer skrumpede ind og slukkede med et ynkeligt sus, hvorefter hele hans krop slappede af, som om nogen havde skudt ham fuld af beroligende middel til heste. Han vaklede tilbage, stødte ind i væggen og gled slapt ned på gulvet. Lienna hentede et par friske håndjern fra sin taske og satte dem fast om hans håndled.
DaeÉt *hKeHl!e,p frÉaS dZeOn Hek*s'péloxdeÉreFndeS d.ørA tbiBl IdMeónK lbewv*isdLstlSøse GmPag*i&ker, hHaVvd$e vtatgeÉt thi jsXeKkdun.dAerx,. h!vPiDlkeIt* pgavu merfe FvægUt) til Tdze vziqldgeurVen bryhgterq Zom LAiVe(nas VbfeFhAerskaelCs_e af ^aftbieDsværgewlmspes. DameÉn& zvva&ró gcodc.P
Uden en sejrsdans eller endda et fist pump samlede hun marmoret op og trak et sæt nøgler op af sin taske, som var begyndt at ligne Mary Poppins' tæppebag. Havde hun også en garderobestang i den?
"Jeg har aldrig set en pyromage gøre det før," bemærkede jeg.
"Volcanomage," korrigerede Lienna, mens hun stak en nøgle ind i den lås, der bandt mine håndjern til bordet, og åbnede den. "Følg mig."
"!VVenftX liégKe eHtP Gøj,eblitk! ViV fspkalP iHkpke u.d mdeZr.uQde&,_ ZveDl?"
Udsigten til at styrte ud i det kaos, der hærgede distriktet, var ikke særlig spændende for mig. Hvis jeg havde ret i, at min tidligere ven og medindsatte Quentin var involveret, oversvømmede han hele distriktet med en smittende vrede, som kun ville blive ved med at vokse. Det var det, empatere gjorde: De fik folk til at føle alle følelserne. I dette tilfælde, alle følelserne af "usammenhængende vrede".
Det betyder, at lavatroldmanden Vesuvius var den første af mange, mange magiske farer uden for forhørslokalet.
Lienna vendte sig mod døren. "Det gør vi."
JmetgK FviNftiebde méeXd Tmined hånGdjWern ppå hende)sh !rtygf. "IKwaQn bd(uX iz !det mxinddstLeq llåsOe hm.izgk )op fSørsAtf?"V
"Nej."
Vred varme steg fra mit bryst og op i mit hoved, men jeg stoppede den ned igen. Quentins følelsesmæssige manipulation forstørrede selv den mindste irritation. Hvis det var så slemt her, hvor rasende var så alle de slemme forbrydere i arresten?
Lienna klemte i en af sine halskæder, en kæde med et katteøje dinglende i enden. Mellem bippene fra den ubarmhjertige alarm erklærede hun: "Ori menti defendo."
DenttGe _nonwsenisortd va*rz en nbesvæ)rDgTeZlsTeq til )en* tfroyldIdboOmÉsPaBrtOeDf^aakt, og JsMoSm ésvaIr på OduetY Rud,lSøsenAde orbdg .glødKede Kkba'tt^eOøyjue!ts dv.edh*ænugu. dSpFæznRdóinhgenO i hesn$decs $shkYu^lWdqre sélxap o.ph, ogw óduaB ^dteA strGamme* libnjjexr af v*rehdeA lonmKkcrcingu hóenOdes, fy.ljdivgóef &læbDer kblegv_ bbldød)er)e,q kti.lbød' h(un rmBikg dHe)t f,ørstieN $sdmRikl, jeg endHnux PhavZdleQ set^. fDBet 'vaKr lwilWlCe ,ogP FkNortFvmaMri$gt,! tmlenG &deht )var) et smMil.P
"Bliv bag mig. Du skal nok klare dig." Så trådte hun ud i gangen.
At følge eller ikke at følge, det var spørgsmålet. At krybe sammen i et ulåst rum uden denne troldkvindes beskyttelse var langt mindre tiltrækkende end det kaos, der ventede os, så jeg fulgte hende ud af døren.
En mareridtsagtig spærreild af lyde overfaldt mine ører. Over alarmen var der folk, der skreg, trampende fodtrin, metal, der klang, og ting, der gik i stykker. Til højre for mig endte den brede korridor med et sæt pæne, normale dobbeltdøre. Til venstre for mig bøjede gangen sig om et skarpt hjørne, og bagved lå helvedes epicenter af røg, orange flammernes orange skær og magiens lysende glimt.
LigeHn(na giék t$illH vewnstrGe nm&ed memn &RuHb*iks Tterningk Xi lhOåRnden. Jletgt kæImpedie& mod a$lLlfe VmineP inés*tfiTnPk^terU oBg& BsZnegT migc bstHillWew .ogg rol)igt mbfaÉg h_end_e. HVuén gOi)k _ptå khSugY,S dkigge*dRe &rgundCt oama RhyjøurSniet owgW geAmMtew sigc så& bagr xdsenq jbeks,kytmt!endIek &vaægQ.H
"Er dine skosåler lavet af gummi?" råbte hun over alarmen, mens hun drejede Rubik's Cube og omarrangerede de runer, der markerede hvert kvadrat.
Jeg kiggede ned på de tennissko, som jeg havde fået udleveret ved min ankomst. "Jeg har ingen anelse. Hvorfor?"
Et lynnedslag sprang ud af den bølgende røg og slog ned i lysstofrøret over loftet. Plastikkabinettet splintrede og lod det regne med skrot på os.
"dEleUktQramOa^geZ,i"& a&fsløMreódWe Liehnna tbratI.A HuAnj dsthakr hoVveódQert $rXuGndtJ ofma hQjølrunJet igen. S"L,aFd os) ZgéåZ.I"T
"Hold da op!" Jeg råbte som den værste cowboy nogensinde og greb desperat fat i hendes jakke. Jeg greb i sømmen og trak hende tilbage.
Hun trak mig væk. "Hvad?"
"Jeg kan ikke løbe ud derude sådan her!"
"Hdvad viglq UduÉ hÉaHvWeQ Jmiygb Lt_i)l até dgHøre?"*
Min vrede blussede op igen, og jeg brugte mine håndjern på hendes Rubik's Cube med mine håndjern. "Del rigdommen. Lad mig op. Magificer mig!"
Endnu en lynbue oplyste gangen og efterlod et rygende hul i væggen over for os.
"Giv mig i det mindste noget, der kan beskytte mig mod Zeus!" Jeg pegede igen på kuben. "Du kan lave forskellige besværgelser med den, ikke? Den har omkring fyrre quintillioner mulige kombinationer, så der må være en, der kan gøre mig immun over for alt det her lort."
Kapitel 2 (2)
"Det er lettere sagt end gjort," sagde hun.
"Kom nu, agent Shen. Jeg er forsvarsløs her."
Med stram kæbe kiggede hun på Rubik's Cube. "Giv mig et øjeblik."
"J^egW ewr wivkkeY dsZiékkser pHå,x aIt v'i hRarS (eRt *mDinlutT."q
Men hun lyttede ikke. Hun vred og drejede terningen og mumlede ord, som jeg knap nok kunne forstå på grund af alarmen.
"Vand - hvor er der vand?" Blrrring! "Psychica ..." Blrrring! "Nej, ikke elementarskjold-" Blrrring! "Hvor er ... rigtigt!"
Den dybe hvæsende lyd fra en flammekaster, ledsaget af et smertefuldt klart orange skær, kaskaderede ned gennem hallen. Et Wilhelm-skrig gennemborede kakofonien.
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Min svulmende vrede aftog. Roen strømmede ind over mig - efterfulgt af en bølge af panik, da endnu et elektrisk stød ramte væggen.
"Virkede det?" spurgte hun. "Er dine følelser tilbage til det normale?"
"Øh ... ja, jeg tror ..." Da hendes ansigt lyste op med et stolt smil, rynkede vantro mine bryn. "Vent, er det det, hvad din besværgelse gjorde? Du gjorde mig immun over for empaten?"
"PDius Fbadn gmi)g( xoZm aétÉ-"!
Hvis mine hænder ikke havde været håndjern på, ville jeg have kastet dem i luften. "Hvad med elektriciteten? Helvedesilden? Den malstrøm af dødsmagi, der er ved at eksplodere os i klæbrig tåge? Det var det, jeg ville have immunitet mod!"
Hendes skældud vendte tilbage. "Magi er ikke så simpelt. I det mindste kan du tænke klart nu. Du burde takke mig."
Ja, selvfølgelig. Jeg ville takke hende, hvis jeg klarede mig igennem dette uden at blive spiddet af lynet.
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Med det sprang hun op bag den beskyttende væg og sprang ind i nærkampen. Jeg tog et skridt - og stoppede så. Hun havde ret. Jeg kunne tænke klart igen, og af en eller anden grund var det ikke attraktivt at løbe efter hende.
I stedet gik jeg hen til hjørnet og stak hovedet ud. To meter væk piskede hun endnu en marmorartefakt mod en kvinde, der var oplyst af knitrende hvid elektricitet. Elektramageren snublede og faldt bagover, hendes kraft var slukket - men hun var ikke den eneste gale myte i korridoren.
Det lignede en WWE-burkamp på overnaturlige steroider. Et dusin kroppe i forskellige stadier af at give eller tage en røvfuld var viklet ind i et masseslagsmål. Nogle var kriminelle, der var blevet befriet fra deres celler, mens andre var MPD-agenter og -ansatte.
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Lienna gav sin terning en drejning og råbte endnu en besværgelse. En væg af blåt lys fejede udad, og tornadoen døde til ingenting - men magien fortsatte med at blinke og blæse og blusse og blæse og bomme, mens myterne flakkede og blæste og blødte.
Hun kastede en tredje kugle mod aeromagikeren, og han kastede sig bagover. Da hun bøjede sig ned for at samle artefaktet op, sparkede en vred MPD-agent med spidsbryn hende i siden og sendte hende, hendes kugle og hendes Rubik's Cube rundt.
Jeg lænede mig længere ind i hallen. Var det meningen, at jeg skulle gøre noget her? Løb ind i kaos med mine håndjern på og brølede kreative, men totalt meningsløse trusler mod Lienas overfaldsmænd?
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Nå, men så! Det så ud til, at agent Shen havde styr på tingene, så der var bestemt ikke brug for mine tjenester. Jeg kunne alligevel ikke hjælpe - ikke med hendes smarte anti-magiske håndjern om mine håndled.
Jeg ventede et par sekunder mere på, at hun skulle hente sin træsværdighedskubus, før jeg gled tilbage ind i det sikre stykke korridor. Jeg støvede akavet min jumpsuit af, kørte endnu mere akavet en hånd med håndjernene gennem mit korte brune hår og gik så væk fra slagsmålet.
Når jeg ser tilbage på mit liv - som jeg oftest havde tilbragt på den berømte forkerte side af skinnerne - havde jeg ikke udviklet et blødt punkt for retshåndhævelse. Som regel var folk, der blev betjente, kriminalbetjente og agenter, også typer, der nød at bruge deres magt som en forpulet forhammer. Og jeg nød ikke at tage imod slagene.
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Nå, men... Pointen er, at jeg ikke stoler på betjente, jeg kan ikke lide betjente, og jeg er sikker på, at disse følelser er gensidige. Det samme gælder for MPD-agenter og deres ligesindede. Så med kun den mildeste snert af skyldfølelse gik jeg mod friheden.
Okay, "valse" er ikke helt det rigtige ord. Jeg løb som et desperat fjols. Kan du bebrejde mig?
Med håndleddene bundet foran mig, kørte jeg gennem dobbeltdørene, ned ad en anden gang og tjekkede med kroppen den trykkende stang på en dør, der var behændigt markeret med et udgangsskilt og et trappeskilt. Man må elske kommunale sikkerhedsregler. Ikke engang det mytiske freakin' politi kunne ignorere dem.
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Jeg nåede den første trappe og fik øje på en åben dør og en intetsigende gulvbelagt gang bagved den.
Midt i skridtet løftede hele min krop sig fra jorden, som om tyngdekraften havde sagt stop. Jeg sparkede som en druknende dybhavsdykker, men det nyttede ikke noget. Jeg var en heliumballon uden tøjler i et tomt trappehus.
"Hvor tror du, at du er på vej hen?"
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Hun rykkede armen til siden. Jeg fløj ind i væggen, og det kraftige smæld rystede gennem mine knogler. Jeg gled ned og landede på vakkelvorne ben.
"Var det nødvendigt?" Jeg stønnede.
Hendes fingre krøllede sig til en knytnæve. Min hals strammede sig, og jeg fik ikke mere luft, og jeg kløede hjælpeløst på min hals. Hold da kæft, hun var i gang med at Force-chokere mig! Det ville have været så fedt, hvis jeg ikke havde været ved at dø.
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Mens jeg sugede lunger fulde af sød, sød luft ind, struttede Blythe hen imod mig. Hun bøjede sig ned for at møde mine øjne, og hendes lyseblå blik lovede alle mulige former for fortrydelse over mit forhastede flugtforsøg.
"Du vil ikke have mig som din fjende, Morris," sagde hun, knap højere end en hvisken. "Men du kan bare ikke lade være, ikke sandt?"
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