Chapters (41)
- Cover
- Raves for Stephen Blackmoore’s Eric Carter novels:
- Novels by Stephen Blackmoore available from DAW Books:
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I have a shield spell that I’ve used so often it’s become almost automatic. When the spears of asphalt forming in the wall shoot out at me, I’m already bringing it up. It catches most of them, but two get through. One screams so close past my head I can feel the air as it passes.
I’m not as lucky with the other one. My protection tattoos push against it to slow it down, but not enough. A half-foot-long spear of compressed gravel and tar drives itself an inch into my left shoulder right next to the bullet graze.
That little shit. The pain is blinding. I can feel the magic in my tattoos doing . . . something. I honestly can’t remember what half of them are for, but whatever they’re doing can’t be good.
I use the shield as a battering ram, shoving it so hard against the pavement wall that it explodes in a cloud of dust and debris all over the street. Halfway down the block a car alarm goes off.
I can feel him drawing more power from the pool. That and the pavement wall tells me he’s got skill but not a lot of his own power.
Since any of us can tap it, I could start pulling some in, too. Then it turns into a race to see who can pull in more the fastest. I did that in Mexico with a Cartel mage, effectively shutting him out completely.
But I haven’t tried it since. I had access to Mictlantecuhtli’s power then and could draw in a fuck-ton of magic in one shot. I don’t know if I can still do that, and now’s the wrong time to find out. If it turns out I can’t, then I’ll have wasted my time and given him an edge he doesn’t need.
So instead I push the shield out toward him. I have more than enough power, to the point of not having to draw on the pool to maintain it. I can’t remember if I had that much before I was with Santa Muerte, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t.
The shield reaches him, pulling in at the edges until I’ve got him in a bubble of force. Just as I finish wrapping it around he lets his spell loose.
The inside of the bubble goes bright as thousands of red and purple arcs of power shoot out from him, hit the shield and ricochet back. It looks like watching a plasma globe on acid. Within a second there’s nothing but light.