Page 70 of Wind Called

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed, even as Marc said smoothly, “Sure, you got in…but you didn’t get back out with your prize. Was the Collector pretty pissed off about that?”

No response at all to this barb. The thief only stood there, watching them carefully…

…and then he was gone.

Bellamy let out a startled breath, even as Marc blinked and looked all around them, obviously trying to figure out where the man had disappeared to.

“Do you think he can teleport like Devynn’s fiancé Seth?” Bellamy asked, backing up to Marc so they were almost touching. It just seemed much safer for them to stand like that so at least the thief couldn’t teleport directly behind either of them.

“Not exactly,” the man said, appearing out of nowhere next to his rucksack. He knelt down and opened it, then pulled out something.

Oh, shit.

Not just a single something, but a pair of hunting knives, one for each hand. He straightened and sent them an evil smile.

“Nothing personal,” he added. “But I can’t have you telling anyone about me…or the rest of us.”

The knives flew through the air, glinting as they caught the light that filtered into the enclosure. Bellamy started to flinch…

…but then Marc reached back and caught hold of both her hands, as though telling her she needed to stay put. At the same moment, a strange shimmer surrounded the two of them, falling into place just a fraction of a second before both knives hit the odd barrier and bounced off harmlessly, falling to the rocky ground underfoot.

A flash of annoyance crossed the thief’s face. “Nice trick,” he said, the irritated note in his voice belying those words. “But defensive magic isn’t going to get you out of this.”

“Maybe not,” Marc said, still sounding strangely calm. “I can hold this barrier for hours, though. Nothing will get through it. Not your knives, not magic — not even a push from you. So I guess it’s stalemate.”

While Bellamy was very glad to hear that it didn’t seem as if anything could affect the barrier he’d raised around them, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of standing here for hours. If nothing else, what if the thief got fed up and went to fetch the Collector?

It wouldn’t change anything,she told herself.Not if what Marc said about this barrier is true. No kind of magic is getting through it.

The thief still stood several paces away. If the disgusted expression he now wore was any indication, then he’d also realized that bringing in outside help wouldn’t do a lick of good.

“What does the Collector want?” Marc pressed. “Why are you working for him?”

Now the thief smiled. “You’ll hear nothing of him from me.”

Well, maybe not, but at least the scruffy minion had confirmed that the Collector was a warlock. They’d already mostly known that, since the voices had also referred to him as a “he,” but still, Bellamy thought it couldn’t hurt to have confirmation from someone who worked for the guy. Sure, there were exceptions like the Ludlowprimaover in Northern California…and that awful woman in South Dakota…but in general, when someone from the witch community went bad, it tended to be a warlock.

At the same time, though, she knew she could trust the warlock who had his back pressed firmly against hers with her life. Marc was going to make sure they stayed safe, no matter what.

“And you say that your shield will hold against any kind of magic,” the thief went on. “But I’m not sure it can hold against this.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round silvery object hanging from a silver chain, maybe a little smaller than the amulet he’d tried to steal only a few days earlier. “You see, while the Collector likes to keep his prizes safe, he also knows when it’s time to send them out into the world to do their work.”

After delivering those words, he held the object by its chain and began to whirl it around, faster and faster. And the faster it went, the more she could see the shield Marc had erected around them beginning to lose its brilliance. For the moment, it still held, but she knew it would only last a minute longer, if even that.

He gritted his teeth and scowled, trying to get it to stay in place, but she got the impression that all the magical will he was throwing against the problem wasn’t changing anything at all. Soon enough, they’d be utterly unprotected…and who knew what else the thief was hiding in his rucksack? Some more knives?

A gun?

Some kind of magical weapon she couldn’t begin to imagine? After all, if the Collector had the guy trying to pick up amulets and grimoires and the Goddess knew what else, what was to stop him from grabbing all the enchanted weaponry he could find?

A shiver of worry went through her, and then she heard it.

You are not defenseless.

The words came to her on the wind, gentle, almost chiding, as if the voices wanted her to know this was not the time for self-pity.

No, it wasn’t.

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