Page 4 of Crimson Skies

Ortega was nowhere to be seen.

Shit! Where the hell did he go?!

The jarring rev of an outboard motor reached his preternatural hearing. Morgan stared to the east, the glare of the dazzling sun overhead making him squint slightly. Surprise jolted him when his otherworldly vision picked up the figure of a man yanking on the pull cord of a boat engine tied to a pier half a mile away.

How’d he get there that quickly?!

“Never mind,” Morgan muttered.

Cassius and Atropos had told him they needed this guy. That was enough reason for him to act. He unleashed his wings and took flight. The startled shouts of those who witnessed his transformation faded rapidly behind him as he arrowed toward his target.

Ortega picked up on his approach. A wand appeared in the mage’s hand. Magic bloomed around him on a wave of incandescent flames when he unleashed the staff within it, the boat beneath him swaying unscathed where it bobbed in the shallows.

Morgan darted through the volley of fireballs Ortega launched his way as he closed in on him. Several fiery missiles glanced off his feathers. The Dryad magic dancing amidst the dark currents wreathing his body protected him from the flames. He lowered his brows.

Atropos was right. He’s a Level One Mage.

He rocked to a halt above Ortega. “How about you give up? There’s no way you can defeat me.”

Ortega glared at him from within a storm of fire. “I don’t think so, asshole!”

Power pulsed through his staff. It sent ripples across the surface of the sea.

Morgan blinked when the ocean came up to meet him. The cage of water and steam that wrapped around his winged form had him cursing as it obscured his vision. He was about to blast his way out of it when his prison froze and collapsed.

Ortega cursed viciously, his staff and arms immobilized by chains of pale magic.

Strickland ignored the people fleeing past him as he trod the beach toward them. “We need to talk, Santiago.”

Morgan landed next to the director as he reeled in the struggling mage.

“I thought I told you not to use your wings,” Strickland berated him mildly.

“He’d be halfway to Florida by now if I hadn’t,” Morgan muttered.

Ortega landed on the sand and glowered at them. “What the hell do you want, Francis?! I thought I made it clear I wasn’t interested in joining Argonaut years ago!”

Morgan arched an eyebrow at Strickland. “You wanted him to join Argonaut?”

“Yes,” Strickland replied dismissively. “He’s too talented a mage to be wasting his potential indulging in petty criminal activity.”

“Last I heard, gambling wasn’t a crime,” Ortega snapped.

“Not the way you do it.” Strickland’s face hardened. “Not registering yourself as a Level One mage carries a pretty hefty fine and a prison sentence too.”

“You know as well as I do what happens to Level One mages,” Ortega snarled. “I value my freedom too much to be shackled to a role I despise.”

He huffed and strained against the bonds holding him prisoner, his mage magic making the air shimmer as it clashed against Strickland’s.

Morgan was impressed. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Strickland had caught Ortega by surprise, the mage might very well have won their skirmish.

Strickland sighed. “Whatever you may think of me or my role as an Argonaut director doesn’t matter. This is too important for me to let you go.”

Ortega stilled. Suspicion narrowed his eyes. “What the heck do you want with me?”

“We need you to help us save the world,” Strickland replied calmly.

Ortega blinked. “Come again?”

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