Page 49 of Runaway Magic
They weren’t. As Cym turned to watch his soldier’s progress, someone grabbed him roughly, bound his arms, and shoved him into the back of a van with a dog crate bolted down inside.
Through the back window, Cym saw a surprisingly large number of incapacitated soldiers lying scattered about the parking lot while a much smaller group of soldiers chased after Fourteen as he sped away on his motorcycle.
Satisfied that he had done his best to protect Fourteen, Cym turned to the occupants of the van—huddling as far from him as they could get—and he saw his brother Sterling. Before his brother looked away, Cym could have sworn he saw sorrow in Sterling’s eyes. The peaceful blue of a sleep spell tinted his vision, and he knew no more.
Chapter 13
Marshall
It was dark by the time they got back to the Boston chapter house, and the air had a bite to it. Marshall could practically taste the imminent snow.
The moment the team made it through the door, Clayton was on Marshall like a nervous puppy. “I made the calls you asked for while you were on your way back. Guardian Callum told me everyone else was busy with their own cases right now, but he was sure you could manage on your own.”
“Dammit, Callum,” Marshall snarled. He may have said he wouldn’t bring Marshall up on charges, but Callum was certainly capable of hanging him out to dry in retribution.
Marshall wasn’t anticipating an all-out war with the Blaikes, but knowing he had backup to call on would have been nice. Formidable though his team may be, if a family as powerful as the Blaikes went bad, they were going to be hard to contain.
“Callum is just covering his ass. The Blaikes were allowed to grow so big because of their loyalty to the Guard. No one is going to want to go against them without substantial evidence,” Adelle said, reminding him that not everything in the world was about him.
Instead of annoying Marshall, it helped settle his irritable mood. It was nice to not have everything in the world be about him for a change.
Marshall gave his sister a wry smile before saying, “Let’s go into the ’Scape and see if we can find some evidence then.” He turned to Clayton. “I haven’t been here since before I became a guardian. Do you have a place for dreaming?”
Clayton’s face lit up. “We just had it redone! You’re going to love it. Follow me.” He bounced with excitement as he led the team through the dark, wood-paneled hallway. “We did our best to keep it as traditional as possible, but we added all the modern amenities that wouldn’t be rendered inert by strong magic.”
The building was smaller than Marshall remembered, but he had been little more than a child when he was last here, so that was to be expected. When he passed an old oil painting of a pastoral scene, he paused, causing Jack to bump into him.
“What are you…?” Jack took Marshall by the shoulders so he didn’t bowl him over when his chest collided with his back.
Jack’s hands were warm and soothing, and the effect was amplified by the magic Marshall could feel humming just under his friend’s skin. Something deep inside Marshall missed the sensation when Jack released him, and it uncoiled, ready to reach out to get it back.
Marshall tamped it down immediately. Dreamwalkers kept control of their magic at all times, or else. It was how things had always been in the Guard, and how they would always be.
Marshall focused his attention on his reason for slamming to a halt instead of thinking about why his magic liked Jack somuch. He examined the wall beside him, quirked his lips, and knocked on the wall where the wainscoting began. After a few beats, the knock was returned. “She’s still here!” he exclaimed.
Jack put a hand on the wall and concentrated. “A brownie?” He was referring to the earth spirits known for taking up residence in old homes.
“She kept me company when Da was busy with work. Most of the time she put me to work in the garden.” Marshall grinned at the memory.
“She let you see her?”
“Sometimes. Her fur looked insanely soft, but she bit me the one time I tried to pet her,” Marshall said wryly. Rooting through his pockets, he found a mini bag of M&Ms. Knocking again, he placed it on the floor next to the wall and patted it gently before standing.
“Are you two coming?” Adelle’s head peeked around the corner, looking put out. “This was your idea, after all.”
“Keep your bloomers on; we’re coming,” Jack said affectionately. “Our boy here was being nostalgic.”
Marshall looked down at the floor where he’d placed his offering and was pleased to see it had vanished.
“I think she remembers you.” Jack ruffled Marshall’s hair, earning a swat.
With a look of annoyance, Marshall did his best to smooth his hair down. Once he was satisfied no real damage had been done, he shoved Jack ahead of him. “You go first.” He knew Jack wasn’t above messing his hair up a second time.
Normally Marshallhatedit when people messed up his hair. Even if he didn’t have much control over his life, at the very least he should have control over his body. But it didn’t bother him half as much when Jack did it. Marshall didn’t let him know that, because if he did, Jack would probably do it constantly. Then other people might get the idea that they could do it too…
“Sure thing, boss.” Jack gave Marshall a cheeky salute and skipped ahead, a movement that looked bizarre on a man of his size, but as Marshall watched, it became less so, as though the universe itself changed to accommodate him. Dreamwalkers sometimes had a strange effect on their surroundings, but the effect was always more extreme for Jack.
Marshall caught up with everyone at the end of another long hallway, stopping at a set of double doors. Clayton stood in front of them with the air of a game show host ready to present a prize. Once Marshall joined them, Clayton opened the doors and led them inside a lavishly appointed room that could have easily accommodated twice their number.
