Magical Midlife Battle （Leveling Up, #8）(130)

His breathing hitched, shallow and painful, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “She will,” he got out, tears coming faster now. “She will. She has to.”

And then he was flying, hiding his fear and worry in anger.

The enemy would pay for this. They would rue the day they came up against this convocation.

Sebastian

THE FINAL COLOR bled from the spell, and Sebastian urged his winged chariot forward, trying not to think. If he allowed himself thought, he’d remember the sight of Jessie’s ruined body. Of Nathanial’s blackened, lifeless form as Jasper scooped him up and hurried back toward the town. If he thought of those things, he wouldn’t be able to go on. Because he was the reason they had ended up like that.

He hadn’t, in his wildest dreams, thought Momar could ever pull off something of this magnitude.

He hadn’t predicted his mages would be able to cooperate to such a degree, let alone that they would

successfully harness the ley lines. If he’d known, he could’ve devised better protections. Instead, he’d worked on solutions for smaller-scale magical defenses and offenses, most of them utterly useless in this situation.

He hadn’t properly anticipated Momar’s abilities. He hadn’t armed Jessie with the information she’d needed, and she’d had to use herself to get the job done.

God, please, she had to be okay. Please.

The gargoyle who flew him grunted as a gun blast struck his leg. Sebastian should’ve stopped that too. He was starting to unravel, dammit.

Austin worked below them, taking blasts from guns and magic from the fleeing mages without blinking. He was blackened in places, bleeding in others, and ripping through the enemy like a feral beast. Dave and some of the other basajaunak had joined him, tearing through the enemy with glee. It was more than a little unsettling, and Sebastian was happy he’d ended up on this side of the divide.

He’d probably crap himself if he were trying to fight against that. The mages down there certainly were, their groups breaking up, their resolve splintering, many of them turning and running, only to be picked off by the gargoyles chasing them with potions and claws and aggression.

They had been certain their trapping shield would work. They didn’t seem to have any backup plans. It was now magic and guns against the shifter army, and the magical wielders were cowards.

Because of Jessie’s sacrifice, this battle had quickly and effectively tipped in Austin and Kingsley’s favor. Jessie had ensured they’d almost certainly win the battle…while she and Nathanial lay dying, one probably already gone.

“Go,” Sebastian said, tears stinging his eyes. “Hurry! Fly faster.”

He had to keep moving, keep fighting. He couldn’t fully unravel, not until the job was done. He owed it to Jessie.

NESSA

HER HAIR WAS MATTED to the side of her head where a mercenary had clubbed her with his gun. He hadn’t noticed the knife in his ribs until he was sinking to his knees. She spun, stowed her knife, pulled her gun over her shoulder, and shot an enemy who had somehow broken through the shifter line. Was he lost? Where the hell did he think he was going?

One of the garhettes chased a running mage who’d also wound up over the line. The enemy had clearly misplaced their sense of direction. Fear could do that to a person. An hour after the spell had come down, the mages who hadn’t already run in a blind terror were now trying to retreat. A few had gotten turned around.

The mage turned to shoot magic behind her, missing the garhette entirely and getting shot for her efforts. The mage faltered, staggering, and the garhette was there in an instant, jumping onto her and finishing the job. Those creatures were vicious as hell.

“Shadow,” Edgar said, puffing into human form right beside her. He was out of breath and paler than usual, his face drawn and terrified. “Shadow, it’s Jessie. Hurry!”

He puffed back into insects and darted in the wrong direction, not out toward the perimeter line where Nessa had assumed the mages would be fighting, but back toward town. Confused, suddenly

unsure, she started jogging that way. Gargoyles flew overhead, led by Tristan, east to west. They must’ve taken out all the enemy on their side and were crossing over to help the crew to the west.

That had to be good news.

With a glance over her shoulder to make sure no more enemy had broken through and would shoot her in the back, she started jogging back toward town. She hadn’t seen much action, surprisingly.

She’d hung back behind the shifters, since they were the more effective fighters, only getting anxious when the spell above and around them got redder and redder. Only being on two feet, though, there wasn’t anything she could do. The area was much too big for her to jog around, looking for Sebastian or Jessie, and even if she’d found them, she didn’t have the power to help much.

Thankfully they’d handled it, and Nessa had run forward with the weaker shifters, on hand in case anything got through their line. Not much had. Kingsley and Austin had done an excellent job of preparing their people to work together.

She nodded at an older garhette, posted on the sidewalk beyond the last house in town, patiently daring anyone to make it that far. Farther in, she found pack civilians heading in the same direction she was. Still farther, and coldness started to creep into her middle. Near the square, people sat in clusters, holding hands, some crying, some praying.