Page 92 of Suspicions on the Stage
The wind outside ebbs, then returns, rattling the shed door on its hinges. It still wants me, but for now, the stone holds. I reach into my bag for my phone, fingers numb with adrenaline, and text the guys.
Lady M: Caught in garden shed off the quad. Storm unnatural and cannot proceed. 911.
I lean my head back against the cold stone and listen to the shed creak as the storm fails to get in. My breath slows; I take a quick inventory of my body—left hand bleeding, right wing bruised, feet slick with mud and probably some glass—and then crawlover to press my face to the seam of the shed door to watch the world try to end itself.
The quad is a maelstrom, wind running rabid in crosshatches that lift and drop trees as if they’re little more than party streamers. Somewhere above, I sense the intelligence behind it. This is no sudden weather change, and it means to keep me here.
It’s only minutes before I hear the signature snap of a portal breaking the sound barrier, and a moment later, Iggy appears in the center of the quad with Slade in tow.
I unbar the door and bellow, “Southeast!”
Iggy points, and Slade takes off on a run towards my shelter. Debris hammers at them—benches, metal trash bins, a cluster of what looks like lost undergrad art projects. Iggy flicks a wrist, and for an instant, the air in front of them goes still, just enough to let Slade surge ahead.
“Fucking hell, Morgana, you said storm, not a scene from theWizard of Oz.” He ducks inside, wind slamming the door shut behind him, and frowns at me. “Are you okay?”
“Is anyone ever okay at State U lately?” I hold up my bleeding hand as proof-of-life. “Bit dinged up, but nothing major.”
He shrugs, scans the room, and starts digging through the maintenance closet for anything that might be useful in a siege. I don’t think we’re going to last that long in here, but if he wants to try, I suppose I can let him pretend for a moment or two.
“Where are the others?” I ask.
“The dragon is bringing your polar bear and the Prince is right behind him.”
I glance past Iggy’s shoulder just as the roof vibrates with a new pressure as the wind goes from high-pitched shriek to a vibrating moan. I know that sound—the air is compressing, rolling tight as a snake about to strike. Peeking out the door crack, I frown as a shadow blots out the sunset.
The roof gives a violent shudder and with a screech, something massive lands on top of the shed, claws gouging through metal and wood. Kaspar has arrived, though I’d guess only half-shifted or we’d all be squashed flat.
Iggy’s smile freezes for a heartbeat, and then he’s in motion, muttering a spell in a language I sort of recognize. The air around us flexes, and the sound dampens; for a moment, it feels like being underwater, every noise slow and thick.
“Hold on!” he yells, and the wall beside us explodes inward, not from the wind but from a swipe of claws the size of canoe paddles. Through the dust, I glimpse a shape—half man, half dragon, but all teeth and malice.
The dragon-shape pulls back, and a moment later Kaspar appears in the gap, shirtless, scaled, panting like he’s just run an ultramarathon in steel-toed boots. “Sorry,” he grunts, voice echoing double. “This shit was hard when I wasn’t full-size, especially with the cub along for the ride.”
He sees me, and his eyes flicker gold. I give him a defiant stare, but I know he’s going to make a big deal later about my leaving the office without an escort. It doesn’t matter that this storm would have caught both of us; the bodyguard will still make a huge fucking stink about it.
“Better with backup,” I say, and he nods.
“Where’s the Prince and the bear?” Iggy asks, peering through the hole Kaspar made.
“Here.” The voice floats on a breeze, quiet but insistent. Then, a ripple of silver descends from above. Liam lands with a ballerina’s precision, his wings iridescent even in the failing light. Despite the swirling wind and shit flying everywhere, the Prince of the Daybreak Court still enters like he’s in a goddamn fashion show.
I almost hate him for it—almost.
“Whatever this is, it’s not stopping. We need a plan.” Liam folds his wings tight to his back, then kneels to meet me at eye level. “Morgana, are you okay? This is going to be a hell of a battle if someone with the power to manipulate weather so easily is involved.”
I almost laugh, but catch myself. “A tornado is no fire drake, Liam. I’ll be okay.”
He glances at the others. “We need to get to the center, and disrupt the core of the cyclone. Otherwise, it’s going to level everything.”
Kaspar grins, his expression fond as he looks at his best friend. “You just want me to punch a tornado, don’t you?”
“Maybe.” Liam’s smile is quick, but it’s real. “But I also believe we’ll be able to get a better idea of who is controlling the magic from the center.”
Iggy sketches quick sigils on the wall, then looks at Li. “Once I activate this, it should cause a distraction that will give you winged folks time to dive for the eye.”
“I will break the wind’s focus by physically battering my way through,” Kaspar says as he eyes the group. “Don’t stick close as I could need to shift or use my own magic in response. I’ve avoided clashing storms with storms because it could level the campus. But I’ll do it if I have to.”
“I’ll help Iggy by anchoring his magic,” Slade says as he pushes his glasses up. “I can add power to the protective and healing as well, if need be.”
