Bereft: Foretold

29 | A Human Fear

"After him!" I shouted, grinding my teeth to hide my aggravation. Connie staggered upright and took off, her stride quick for a mortal but slower than Robinson's. Most mages in the syndicates were feeble, weak-armed fools who concentrated on improving their magical craft instead of their bodies, but Robinson—as an outlaw with little innate talent to call his own—hadn't ignored his physical attributes. He ran with great speed and had managed to fling Connie aside with little effort.

Unfortunately for my evening's prey, I was fast, too.

I was nearly level with Connie when we turned into a new byway, feet pounding the wet concrete in the black mage's wake. He shouted something unintelligible—and a sudden pillar of flame exploded from the ground at his heels, arching toward the sky like a molten tree grasping at the heavens. The heat lashed out with palpable force and a grotesque, tortured face appeared in the swelling blaze, its fiery fangs as curved and deadly as unsheathed scimitars.

The outlaw was too weak to summon such a creature in corporeal form. It was an illusion.

Connie slowed, her unease and fear plain in her risen shoulders and tense fists.

"It's not real! Run through it!" I ordered—but the huntress didn't move. In fact, her legs shuddered and she began to retreat.

Worthless coward.

I raced past the huntress, bracing my arms across my face when the fire swung nearer. Though I could feel the heat press against my skin and pry at my clothes, no answering sting came from the flame's bite. Fire consisted of heat and light, an exothermic reaction created by combustion, which meant it was a simple image to mirror in an illusionary spell. Beyond the heat and the creation of light however, the spell held no substance. I leapt through it and felt nothing.

The black mage was on the other side of the faux-inferno, and he couldn't have looked more surprised to see me barreling through his spell. He tried to run, then his heel caught on the curb and he fell forward under my thrown fist, yelling in alarm when I grabbed one of his arms and twisted it without restraint.

"I don't know anything, you psycho!" Robinson shouted as I wrenched his arm straight and used a foot to push on his shoulder. "Get off of me!"

"You'd better remember something then," I warned as I pushed more effort onto the man's arm and a sharp keening sound escaped his mouth. The fire at my back sputtered and dissolved, tearing at the edges until it dispersed completely, and Connie approached with her face tinged with embarrassment. She held a switchblade in her hand.

"I have no qualms breaking your arm, mage," I growled, squeezing his wrist until the bones complained. My short nails cut into his sweaty skin. "Or taking your life. You see, I care little for the rules toted by the Blue Fire Syndicate or the bounties enforced by the ferrymen. I only want information, and if you refuse me, I will kill you—and I will do so with ease, little outlaw."

The mage began to chant a garbled spell, his watery magic writhing, and I placed my foot on his jaw, ceasing the man's words. "By all means—!" I laughed. "Continue! You don't need a jaw to give information. Writing it down will suffice."

"I don't know anything," he reiterated, though his tone had shifted from belligerent to pacifying. "I don't know! I'm not into—into anything illegal! Not anymore. Not anything your warrant says, I swear!"

He was a liar. I could smell the harsh, burnt chemical scent of Reave rising from his coat. Nothing illegal, right. "As I said, Everett, I do not care about the warrant. I do not care about whatever illegal activities you fill the drudgery of your life with. All I require is information, and should you prove to be forthcoming with that information, I will gladly set you free."