Magical Midlife Battle (Leveling Up, #8)(6)

Broken Sue and Kace watched our vans pull away, and through my connection with them, I could feel Broken Sue’s uncertainty. It was a sentiment I’d felt on and off from a great many shifters. I couldn’t tell if it was trepidation about the coming battle or entering another territory led by another alpha with a different set of rules. The gargoyles shared no such concerns. For better or worse, they seemed to be taking all of this in stride, the coming battle included.

“Have you heard from Gerard?” Austin asked, his hand resting possessively on my thigh.

Gerard was the gargoyle leader of Khaavalor. He’d given me a Porsche for the connection request and kept in contact after he’d left. He’d been the youngest of the leaders I’d met, the most open-minded, and he had jumped at the opportunity to help us in Kingsley’s time of need.

“Mr. Porsche?” I leaned against his arm. “I have, yes. He confirmed that he planned to fly in with some of his people at the end of the week. After I warned him about the number of people we’d probably be facing, he offered to bring more guardians. He wasn’t worried about the danger in the slightest.”

“And you said…?”

“Sure. More the merrier, just like with the extra basajaunak.”

He didn’t show any sign that he had heard me, staring straight ahead. I could feel his edginess through the bonds.

“Sebastian and I also talked down in the crystal room this morning.”

“He’s nervous,” Austin said.

“Yes.”

“I went over the numbers. We have the people to combat this threat. We have the power at our disposal.” He paused, now looking out the window. “But we don’t have the magic. Gargoyles have a natural ability to withstand a certain amount of spell work, and the potions you guys created should help our shifters do the same thing. But a more advanced mage, a mage high on the power scale, will still be able to break through it. And they can just try and try again. Sebastian hasn’t been able to come up with any answers.”

He’d obviously spoken to Sebastian as well. I’d never seen the weird mage so worried.

I took a deep breath. “We’ve encountered dismal odds before. Sebastian and I have been training.

There may only be two of us, but we’re strong, and we’ll concentrate our efforts on the highest-caliber mages. We’ll have the home team advantage. Hell, we’ll have fliers! Fliers are incredibly advantageous in a battle like this. We’ve seen the proof.”

“Those mages will be spread out all over the territory, and it’s a big territory. Kingsley has a lot of land.” His voice was hard enough to cut granite. “Momar hasn’t spent this much time sussing out my brother’s territory and defenses with his mini, harmless attacks just to shoot himself in the foot by putting their most valuable players within easy reach. No, each powerful mage will be protected by a team of lesser mages, just you watch.”

“Okay, fine, but we also know mages are cowards. Gargoyles, Cyra, and Hollace can fly into those groups, and some of them will flee. That’ll cut down their numbers enough to give us a chance.”

He ran his thumb back and forth along my thigh. “I hope so. Otherwise, we’ll need a miracle.”

Austin didn’t say much after that. We arrived at the airport in silence, and even then he only spoke to direct our people. I took over where I could, especially when it was my crew that was causing the holdup. And, surprise, surprise, my crew caused plenty of problems in the security line.

“What is going on?” I asked through my teeth. Niamh had insisted on bringing her cooler. She’d been stopped by the TSA, to no one’s shock, and was now arguing with the agent.

“This gobshite won’t let me through,” she said, her hands braced on her hips.

“You cannot carry this onto the airplane,” the agent said semi-patiently.

“Can’t I, me arse.” She gestured at the battered blue cooler. “Those are all travel-sized bottles, aren’t they? No more than 3.5 ounces each. The cooler is me luggage. It’s all above board.”

“Take her to prison,” Mr. Tom said as he took a carry-on from the conveyer. “It’ll be the best place for her.”

“Ma’am…” the agent said, ignoring Mr. Tom. He took out a small, clear plastic bottle designed for storing shampoo or conditioner when traveling. Brown liquid sloshed around inside. “This is the right size, yes—”

“See?” Niamh said.

“But you are limited to one quart-size container housing the liquids, gels, and aerosols. This is”—

he looked first inside, and then at the outside of the cooler—“significantly more than that.”

“Is that whole thing full?” I asked incredulously.

“Not full,” Niamh said.

“Mostly full,” the man responded.

I sighed in exasperation. “Reduce it to the amount that is allowed and let’s go, Niamh.”

“Why would I need a cooler if I’m only allowed what I can carry in my pocket?” she demanded.

“Get it done,” I told her, my tone brooking no argument.

She glowered at the TSA agent before reaching for the cooler.

“Ma’am, is this your bag?” I heard someone else ask.

Cyra raised her hand with a smile. “That’s mine!”