The feeling of wrongness crystallized. This Augustine was larger. His shoulders were broader, his arms more muscular, his legs hard and defined. Standing across from Connor, he was only slightly leaner. Oh my God.
“Augustine was buff,” Runa observed.
“He still is,” I said. “He slims himself down.”
Alessandro smiled at me, proud that I got there first.
“What?” Arabella asked.
“Pause it,” I asked.
Alessandro tapped the tablet and the image on the screen froze.
“Look at the proportion of his shoulders to his chest. The Augustine we know has narrower shoulders, a shallower chest, and longer waist. Even the line of the shoulders is wrong. You can lose the muscle mass, but you can’t alter the skeletal structure of your body. He slims himself down with his magic.”
“He also gives himself two inches of height,” Connor said. “Makes him look thinner.”
Alessandro touched the tablet.
Augustine exploded into movement. His right fist hammered into Connor’s jaw, lightning fast.
“Holy shit!” Leon said.
Connor shied back, his hands up, and Augustine delivered a vicious kick into Connor’s left knee. Connor must have sensed it, because his leg came up, but Augustine still connected. The impact staggered Connor back.
“He’s fast,” Bern said, professional appreciation in his voice.
Both of my cousins leaned forward, focused on the screen. So did Arabella. For a moment she’d forgotten Linus. Her eyes tracked the two combatants on the screen. There was something slightly predatory in the way she watched them, like a cat watching two other cats fight.
Connor leaped back and launched a low kick that grazed Augustine’s thigh. Augustine danced back. His eyes lit up. His lips stretched in a smile. “Ow.”
Connor attacked, his arm snapping out like a sledgehammer. Augustine parried, crossing his arms, drove a front kick into Connor’s left thigh, and took a vicious jab to the arm for his trouble. They danced across the gym floor, kicking, punching, and growling. It was both beautiful and terrifying to watch.
On-screen, Augustine leaped. His right leg shot out like a swinging baseball bat, aiming for Connor’s head. At the last moment, Connor sidestepped, grabbed Augustine’s leg, and jerked him down. They rolled on the mat.
“Nice,” Bern said.
Connor locked Augustine into a half nelson for half a second. Augustine twisted his face away and rolled, landing on top of Connor. Connor bridged, throwing Augustine off, and hammered a punch to Augustine’s ear. Augustine snarled and kneed Connor in the face.
The mood shifted. They were playing before, aiming kicks and punches where it wouldn’t cause lasting damage. The gloves just came off. This was no longer a sparring session. This was a fight.
The view moved, bobbing closer.
“All right,” the invisible De Silva called. “On your feet. You’re done.”
They ignored him, trying to outmuscle each other.
Something hissed and flame retardant foam shot over them.
The two combatants broke apart.
“What the fuck, Thushan?” Augustine snarled.
“You should thank him. You’re shit on the mat.” Connor wiped the blood from his nose and flung it in Augustine’s direction.
“Fuck you too.”
Augustine rolled to his feet. He was muscled like a gymnast. His face blurred, and he was back to a younger version of the Augustine we knew, elegant, lean, and glacial.
The video stopped.
Augustine had scammed us. When we had listed his attributes, the first thing on that list should’ve been “a trained killer.”
I looked at Bern. “If you had to . . .”
He shook his head. “He’d kill me.”
“Augustine Montgomery is a highly capable martial artist,” Alessandro said. “Most high caliber illusion mages are. They assume other people’s identities and enter dangerous situations, usually to gather information or to kill their target. Primes like Augustine can obscure their movements in a fight. He didn’t do that here, but if it was a real fight, and he had a knife . . .”
“Connor would still beat Augustine’s ass,” Leon said.
My younger cousin had become a shameless Mad Rogan fanboy in middle school, and he never outgrew it. As far as Leon was concerned, Connor walked on water and ate enemy tanks for breakfast.
“He blurs,” Connor said. “You think his hand is in one place, and then there is a knife pressed against your ribs, and you didn’t see it get there. I wouldn’t fight him hand to hand. I’d kill him from a distance. But Augustine will never do anything to hurt anyone in this room.”