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could bring himself to harm them. No magic with which to hold them off. All he could do was move them.

And then what? He swallowed hard, pushing Leon ahead another step. What happens after that, when you get to the next hiding place? You’ll just have to run again. And again.

Things were...bad. He could recognize that, even as he hauled Leon another staggering step toward the alley ahead. They’d been followed hours across the country already. What was there to keep Rickard from doing it a second time?

Nothing. Unless…

Daniel glanced back, pensive despite the chaos. Again, a figure drew his attention—and again, he locked eyes with the man who’d touched his blood.

It’s him. This is his fault. Remove that man, and-

He shook his head roughly, flinching as another gunshot cracked out. The ground writhed beneath them, almost as unstable as it’d been before. Almost. He couldn’t keep a tiny, mirthless smile from his lips. That call had been too close for them, eh?

But he could hear the stomp of footsteps growing closer, the cries that blurred together into a jumbled mess of anger. He lumbered forward again, sliding his arm under Leon’s elbow. “Faster,” he grunted.

“Christ,” he heard Leon mumble. “M-My...My head.”

Daniel glanced back. Damn it, they were so close. If he only had some magic he could use. Or a gun.

“Go!” a voice bellowed. His head snapped back to forward.

James burst out from behind his cover, the pistol he’d claimed in his hand. He fired. Again. And again.

And suddenly the ground beneath Daniel’s feet pushed back, perfectly solid.

Daniel grinned, hope springing to life in his chest, and shoved Leon out in front of him. Ahead, Maya peered out from around the wall of the structure. Her eyes flicked from James to their attackers. Doing the math, Daniel knew.

The cries of Rickard’s group dwindled under the roar of James’ pistol. From the corner of his eye, Daniel could see them scatter, cowering behind what little cover could be found on the street. Shrubs, mostly. Cars. The tree fallen between them loomed like a thorny barricade. The others scurried away like cockroaches.

All but the man Daniel could almost remember—the one with a hand upraised, his fingers clenched. He was crouching, now, his eyes wide and unseeing. Blood soaked through his shirt, so dark as to be black. A blink, a heartbeat, and he crumpled to the ground.

At last, the ground lay still. This time, it didn’t move again.

“Bastard!” Daniel heard one of the others yell. Cyril. The barrier-worker glared at James, his eyes alight and his knuckles white around the hammer’s handle. “You- I’ll-”

“Cyril!” Rickard cried, surging forward to grab him, but his hand closed around empty air.

Cyril charged past the tip of the tree toward Daniel and his friends, his left fist clenched. Blood still streamed from his nostrils, but when he raised that fist, ominous beams of light streamed from between his closed fingers. Thunder crackled through the air.

Just like at the motel. He could still picture it clearly—Cyril, darting out of the shadows, throwing blades of light at their car.

What kind of damage would those do to a person?

A shape leapt out at Daniel. He stiffened, relaxing marginally when he realized it was Maya, Olivia at her heels. She grabbed at Leon, trying to tug him into the alley with her. Olivia seized his other side, joining in the fight.

Leon was having none of it. “N-No, I’m- I’m-”

“Stop arguing with me!” Maya hissed, and gave his wrist an almighty yank.

As Leon fell backwards, moving with the two of them, his eyes met Daniel’s—and he recognized all too clearly the message implicit there. Save him.

Daniel spun back around, unable to face the plea in his friend’s eyes for a moment longer. James was still facing down Cyril, the distance between them vanishing as the barrier-mage lumbered down the street.

“Just shoot the bastard!” someone cried from the back of the fight.

No. Daniel threw himself forward—but James was already firing. The gunman in back leapt back behind cover, and James turned the pistol toward Cyril. His finger tensed on the trigger, and-

Click.

The sound was like a blow straight to the chest. Daniel jumped forward a pace, eyes wide. Out of ammo. At a time like this?

James stared down at the pistol, its slide hanging open. His lips parted.

And then he launched himself toward Cyril with an angry snarl. His arm drew back, still clutching the useless weapon.

Not so useless, it turned out. Daniel flinched as James struck hard, using the cold metal as a club. Cyril’s head snapped back. Behind him, the cries broke out anew, but the two of them were too close. Too entwined.

Again, James slammed the pistol into Cyril. Red splattered down the man’s front, but he reeled, lashing out with his hammer. James yelped, stumbling away.

“Get him!” someone cried from the clustered mages beyond the branches.

“No!” Daniel heard Rickard bellow back. “Not with Cyril in the way—you’ll have to-”

Cyril’s hammer struck the empty pistol with a clang. James twisted, his face contorting, and the gun fell to the asphalt.

The light blossomed from Cyril’s fist, brighter and brighter. Daniel stood frozen, right on the edge of exploding into motion. He needed to move, to-

To what? What could someone like him do? He didn’t even have a weapon.

His skin prickled. His head swam like he was drunk. Something crackled within him, rising as he stood transfixed. Maybe he could-

James turned with a snarl, his eyes narrowed—and as Cyril swung back, raising the hammer over his head, James latched onto it. The two spun, locked together.

The gunman alongside Rickard lurched forward, bringing his gun up again, but Daniel saw James’ eyes flick over to him. He shoulder-slammed Cyril, putting the mage squarely between him and their guns. He backpedaled, starting to put distance between him and the figures that sprang toward them.

And then, tearing one hand free of the hammer’s handle, he started punching the mage in the face.

“Da- Owl!” Daniel heard Maya

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