Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) (31 page)

A narrow strip of land dotted with scrub oak and olive-drab bushes ran along the left side of the road. To the right, there wasn’t much between the vine-covered cliff face and the road. The best the state of California could do was provide a gravel embankment and a series of foot-high metal stakes topped with amber-colored reflective markers.

Bellowing a roar that would’ve done credit to a dragon, Shaw popped up over the edge of the cliff. Hovered for the space of a single wingbeat in front of the blue pickup. The Tacoma’s wheels vanished in a dun-colored cloud of dust as Magnus braked frantically.

Shaw dove forward. Talons out and stooped like a hawk diving for the kill. A skin-rippling sound as he raked the cabin roof. Then, with a hideous shriek of claw on metal, Shaw tore off the entire top half of the camper shell.

The road was just too narrow. I couldn’t swerve to avoid the shell, so I simply ran over it. The crunch of metal and plastic came from below as we continued to gain on the pickup.

The griffin flipped himself around to face forward. Just as a blue flash of lightning came from inside the cabin. The bolt blew a fist-sized hole through the cabin roof.

Shaw let out a growl that belonged on the African savannah. He swung one mighty forepaw down. The driver’s side window shattered.

The pickup swerved, jolting the griffin off. Shaw rolled, splaying his claws on the road to come to a stop. Magnus lost control of his vehicle as all four wheels spun on the dust-covered asphalt.

The Tacoma bounced to the left. Then went off the road and into a grove of valley oaks. With a
crunch
, the vehicle ran into one of the stout old trees. Glass shattered and metal creaked. All went silent save for steam jetting from a burst radiator.

I stopped the Expedition in its own cloud of lung-choking dust. Galen and I ran towards where Shaw slowly got to his feet. The griffin sported a few new bumps but didn’t seem worse for the wear.

“You needed Magnus stopped,” Shaw said matter-of-factly. “Thy foe hath been stopped.”

“He hath indeed,” I agreed. I nodded to the wizard next. “We need to check out the vehicle. Galen, do you have enough magic to cover us?”

“Surely. If Magnus can still cast a firebolt, so can I.”

Galen took up a position near our SUV. Together, Shaw and I walked towards the pickup. I reached inside my dust-stained jacket and pulled out the Glock. Flipped the safety off.

I went first. I knew how to use the gun, but had never fired it in anger. Part of me was worried that I’d accidentally shoot Shaw.

A three-foot thick valley oak seemed to grow from the bashed-in hood of the Tacoma. The driver’s side door hung loose, window shattered. I stepped up, gun at the ready.

The cabin was empty.

“Nothing here,” I said.

A creak as Shaw stepped on the truck’s rear bumper. The sounds of rummaging. Shaw backed off a step, eyes narrow and suspicious.

“The scent of Fayleene doth be clear enough. But where–”

Something tickled my nose. Too delicate, too buried by the swirl of dust, wood, and charred bark for most people. Sweet, rancid. Honey from a sick hive of bees. I knew what it was, had smelled it a few times before in the lab.

Gasoline. Specifically, gasoline that someone had pumped full of oxygen.

“
Get back!
” I cried to Shaw.

A single blue spark zig-zagged down from amongst the trees. Illuminated the face of a man hidden deep within the grove. The spark lit upon the Tacoma’s silver-bright hood ornament.

The truck went up with a
WHUMP!
The flash of heat, the blossom of a fireball. And then everything. Went black. A wall of fur and feather smothered me. Knocked me backwards off my feet.

I rolled, came up on my belly. Shook my head, tried to get my bearings. Still had my gun in a death grip.

Sound of someone calling my name.

Sound of thunderclaps. Everything came to me in a kind of fog. As if my ears had been stuffed with cotton.

Shaw lay next to me on the sun-warmed asphalt. Motionless. Side blackened. Overpowering smell of burnt fur, burnt feather. Burnt flesh.

Finally, my brain wired the switchboard back together. I shook myself, slapped one cheek to get moving.

“Dayna!” Galen dashed to my side, grabbed me by the back of my collar, and yanked me off the road. A bolt of blue slashed across my field of vision, just missing the two of us.

My voice came out in a dry croak. “Good save there, Galen.”

“Simply returning the favor,” he said, panting. “Can we call for assistance?”

I swore as I reached into the jacket pocket and came up empty. “Left the phone in the car.”

“That would be problematic, then.”

I looked over my shoulder. The Expedition sat where I’d pulled it over. A column of smoke puffed skyward from where it burned merrily.

“That son-of-a…” I said, as another firebolt whizzed by overhead.

I saw movement in the trees beyond. I aimed, squeezed off two shots. Heard the bullets whine off rocks.

And then Magnus’ voice called out to us.

“I see that you survived, Dayna.”

I clenched my jaw as I replied. “You haven’t been helping.”

“I should have done more. Hubris, that’s been my big mistake.”

I nodded at Galen. We moved a few yards to the left, towards some better cover. Rocks and weeds, mostly. But better than where I’d been sitting in a daze, out in the open. I winced as I saw that Shaw still lay sprawled across the road, limbs akimbo, not moving.

The sunlight dappled the shade in the grove beyond us. Where Magnus’ voice came from. I thought I saw him, deep in the shadows. It looked like he’d swapped his mantle and robes out for a hiking pack.

I fired off another shot. Only heard the crack of a tree branch in return.

“Be careful, Dayna,” Magnus said mockingly. “If you hit me, you may end up hitting your favorite princeling.”

I cursed.

“I’m no marksman. If he’s using Liam as a shield, there’s a good chance I’ll hit him as well as Magnus.”

“My magic would be no less lethal,” Galen observed. “It appears that he has us checked.”

I pursed my lips. The smells of hot metal and burning oil filled the air. Overwhelmed my poor nose. Too much.

Or not enough.

It had been a hot summer. The gnarled, wizened grove of valley oaks had to be awfully dry.

“Galen,” I said, pointing at the cluster of oaks, “think you can burn Magnus out of there?”

The centaur’s smile was at once dazzling and chilly.

He moved to a crouch. He shifted his scale-leather satchel so that he could grab a pinch of gold dust from a pocket. Used it to trace a series of symbols in the dirt. Galen’s voice crackled with energy as he spoke.

“
Tá contúirt dóiteáin ann!
”

Forks of white-hot lightning arced between the branches of the valley oaks like something out of Victor Frankenstein’s laboratory. Everywhere a bolt touched, the wood splintered and burst into flame. Black smoke poured from the lichen-encrusted bark and bone-dry tree trunks.

Magnus howled. He stepped out of the clouds of smoke. His once-shiny bald head was crusted with a web of day-old and fresh cuts. The remnant of his scalp lock lay smoldering on his shoulder.

I raised my gun. Galen tensed. But we did nothing.

Magnus had Liam slung around his neck like a gunny sack.

Each pair of the little Fayleene’s limbs were bound with so much rope that they looked as if Magnus had tried to mummify him. Liam’s hindquarters hung off one side, his head lolled limply on the other.

Magnus pressed a hunting knife to Liam’s neck.

“I should have realized,” Magnus said. He made a strange laugh, about two steps down from a giggle and devoid of anything sane. “Only you. Only a woman like you could take a trio of useless misfits and use them to cause me so much trouble.”

“It’s over,” I said, not lowering my gun. “Magnus, you can’t win this. All you can do is make everyone lose. Every single innocent person in your world is going to war as we speak. For no good reason.”

He shrugged. “I’d hardly call them innocent, Dayna. And I am going to win this one. Back off, or I’ll cut the Fayleene’s throat.”

I gritted my teeth, did my best to hold back tears. This man—this centaur—had been someone that I’d respected. That I’d sort of admired, sort of liked. And yes, in ‘that’ way.

Now, that same man was systematically hurting and killing the people around me. That same man didn’t care one bit if thousands of lives were snuffed out. I never knew that I could be so effing blind.

“Where do you plan on going?” I shot back. “You plan on getting to Andeluvia on foot?”

Of course, right then, the universe has to bestow the
Dayna Chrissie Putting Her Foot in It Award
. It wasn’t really what I said. More the timing of it.

A soundless ripple in the air. Like the one Galen had performed at my house, banishing all harmful magic. We rocked back on our heels, as if a strong breeze had pushed against us.

“My magic-blocking spell,” Galen hissed. “It has ended.”

Liam’s eyes blinked open. Deftly, he grabbed the hunting knife’s handle in his mouth, and tossed it away. Then he curled his long neck in a second time.

With a
crunch
, Liam bit his captor on the ear.

Magnus let out a scream. It echoed off the hills behind us. He placed his palms under Liam’s body. Shoved up and out.

The Fayleene gasped as he hit the ground. Rolled end over end. His smooth fur skidded over the slick gravel. Past the traffic reflectors that marked the drop.

Liam tumbled over the edge.

Magnus shouted a pair of nasty-sounding words and vanished in a brilliant white flash of light.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Liam! Liam!” I screamed, as I dashed towards the side of the road.

My voice collapsed into a whooping cough. I’d run through the great clouds of smoke that rose from the grove of valley oaks Galen had set aflame. My throat burned as if someone had tried to mesquite-grill it.

I knelt on the slippery gravel next to the cliff. Grasped one of the metal traffic reflector stakes set along the edge for purchase. I leaned out as far as I dared. Tangled brush and vine covered the sheer drop, giving way to jagged boulders far below.

I didn’t see the smashed body of a deer.

I leaned out a little further. My shoulder joint made a warning creak as I put more weight on it. For a second, so quickly that I thought I imagined it, I saw a flash of movement.

From somewhere below on the face of the cliff.

“Liam!” I called again.

“I am here,” his voice floated up.

My heart leapt. Liam was
alive
. I saw another flash of moment.

“Where? Can you climb up?”

“Not with my legs bound, no,” he said. Mentally, I kicked myself for that one.

I kept seeing something move. Like it was slowly twisting in the wind from just below. But I didn’t want to lean out any further. I wasn’t sure the edge could hold my weight.

“I can’t see you,” I called to him. Galen appeared out of the smoke, did his best to look over the side with me. “Hold on, just hold on! We’ll figure out a way to get to you.”

“Not enough time,” Liam replied. “My antler is caught in the brush. I can feel it slipping. Leave me, Dayna. There’s no way out of this for me.”

I let his words sink in. Made a fist. Pounded it on the gravel.

No. I wouldn’t leave him.

“Galen, if Magnus could return to Andeluvia, that means you can, as well. You’ve got to cross back over, stop him from—”

“Not a chance,” he retorted. “Remember, I am the one person that neither side will listen to. And I’ll place my hand in a cauldron of hot pitch before I abandon anyone.”

I gripped his arm tightly, almost painfully, in thanks.