Shrimp De Jonghe

3) In a second small bowl, comgine remaining butter with bread crumbs and the spices. Make sure you taste the bread mixture. You may want to add salt, paprika or even more cayenne. If the bread mixture is blah, the recipe will be too. So make sure this mix tastes good, it’s the soul of the dish.

4) Divide the shrimp mixture into 6 small individual casserole dishes. Then layer the crumb mixture over each bowl.

5) Bake 20-25 mins. in a 400° oven or until the shrimp is opaque in color and the bread crumbs are brown around the edges.

This recipe will feed 6, but if you have leftovers, eat them the next day by putting a tablespoon of butter on top and warming it up in the microwave for a minute or so.

shortstory Pt. 5

This story will continue in consecutive months. Ignition Point

by Jami Gray

I moved toward the bumper and felt the moment Zev set the ward. Thanks to a careful, roundabout questioning of friends, I figured out that I was a bit more sensitive to active magic than most. Zev’s power rose in the still night, rubbing against my skin. The sensation was akin to a porcupine brushing against every exposed inch of flesh. My reaction was instinctive, like your mouth puckering up when it got near a lemon. When he came around the other side, I was still rubbing the uncomfortable sensation away from my arms as my ability quivered in irritation.

A quiet ruffle of air turned my attention to the SUV’s roof, where an intimidatingly large hawk stared back with predatory arrogance. It lifted its wings then flexed just enough to resettle the feathers. I stumbled back a step and almost ended up on my ass. The hawk lowered its wings and titled its head. It was probably laughing at me. Stupid bird.

Zev strode past. “Let’s go.”

With a single wary glance to ensure the bird stayed put, I fell in step behind him. “Tell me you have some sort of plan here?”

Without breaking stride, he said, “We go in, I ask questions, they answer, we leave.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his completely unilluminating and uncompromising speech. “Sounds like you can handle this all on your own, then. How about I stay back with Jeremy?”

That earned me a sidelong glare with a hefty weight of distrust. “You’re staying where I can see you.”

Ouch! His mistrust might be earned, but it didn’t make it sting any less.

“How good are you with that gun?” “You have access to any other weapons?”

“Not on me.” His long strides shortened as we drew close to the fence. “So you’re a Traditionalist?”

Normally, him referring to me as one of those with weak or nearly nonexistent magic would be considered insulting, but I wasn’t keen on sharing my magical skill set. Especially not with someone intimately tied to one of the families. They tended to covet the unusual. It was my turn to go vague.

“Something like that.”

He stopped and kept his attention on the gate and the area beyond it. “Huh.”

Something in that irritated me enough to ask, “Huh, what?”

“I thought the Guild had stringent employment requirements.”

“They do.” I stopped at his side, refusing to look at him. “My talents lie in my driving and location skills, hence the Transporter classification.” Okay, maybe sarcasm was the wrong approach, but his arrogance was playing hell with my ego.

He half turned toward me. “Wasn’t meant as an insult. I just need to know how much I have to cover your ass.”

Heat rose under my skin. This time, it had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with temper. My magic tightened around me as I looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the color spreading along my cheeks. I pulled out my gun, thumbed the safety off, racked the slide, and held it down by my leg as I aimed my attention on the lot. “I can take care of myself. You just do whatever it is that you do.” I lifted my chin toward the loading dock. “You have a plan on blinding those cameras?”

He turned back to the fence, mirroring my stance— minus the gun, something he didn’t need, since he had magic at his disposal. “Yep.”

He reached for his magic, and now, with my own magic firmly in place, the uncomfortable sensation remained distant.

I looked up, expecting to see a return of wings. Instead, a soft explosion of startled coos jerked my attention back to the loading dock. “What the...”

I trailed off as pigeons popped out from the building’s roof and blitzed the cameras. Feline yowls joined the commotion, and for a few deafening moments, I was sure someone would burst out to find out what in the holy hell was going on.

Zev and I stood there as a minute ticked by and no one showed. Only once the pigeons resettled and quiet reclaimed the night did Zev speak. “Come on.” He followed the fence line to the rolling gate secured by a padlock. “Keep an eye out.”

I shifted until I could watch the back side of the building and still cover Zev. He grabbed the lock. A tight burst of magic erupted, and the lock fell open a handful of seconds later. Hmm, it looked as if Zev was more than an animal mage. Reluctantly impressed with his magical lockpicking skills, I continued to cover him as he pulled the lock off the gate. With a seemingly negligent push, he shoved the gate back just enough so we could squeeze through. He rolled it back into place before moving forward. I stayed to his right as we crossed the lot to the first loading dock. Fortunately, he didn’t go for the dramatic and do the manly jump up to the platform.

Between my bruised ribs and the gun in my hand, I wouldn’t be able to duplicate that move. Instead, he stuck to the ramp. I trailed along, and we kept our backs to the building during our approach. When Zev stilled just to the side of the door, I snuck a glance up at the cameras and bit off a giggle at the white mess that now covered the camera and dripped down the door. That was one way to defeat their video surveillance.

Zev tapped my shoulder, and I looked to see him mouthing, “Alarm.”

I raised my brows in concern. “Active?” I mouthed back.

| JAMI GrAy |

He flattened his palm against the door, closed his eyes, and tilted his head as if listening. Yep, definitely more than ananimal mage. Finally, his eyes opened, and he shook his head.

I never understood why people put in alarms then never used them, but in this instance, that habit would work in our favor.

He stepped away from the wall then grabbed the door’s handle and motioned for me to take the lead. Unfortunately, with no choice but to trust his assessment, I did as directed, moving to the center of the doorway and raising my gun. I blew out a long breath as his fingers did a silent countdown. When the last digit dropped, he yanked open the door. Hinges groaned, eliminating any chance at stealth, but I rushed in, leading with my gun.

Mercifully, no one and nothing attacked. Amber light spilled across cement paths lying between towering shelves filled with boxes and who knew what else. I cautiously moved to my right, giving Zev room to move inside. He stepped in behind me, the door closing on another groan behind him. The sound of the lock catching echoed with an ominous finality that sent a line of goose bumps down my spine. Zev moved past me, seemingly unaffected by the unsettling atmosphere. I trailed behind, hoping he knew where the hell he was going, because I was clueless.

There was the impression of space and a cool breeze that licked along my skin, but it was hard to see much in the dim light. I shifted my weight to my toes, trying to mute the sound of my boots on the concrete floor. Zev just kept moving like a silent wraith, winding us through the maze of shelves.

Through the gaps of the shelves, I caught sight of an open area. Another gap revealed industrial barrels lined against the far side. Nearby a small delivery truck sat in one of the docks. We turned and emerged from the maze of shelves. After skirting a couple of handcarts, we bypassed a small forklift sitting next to a group of piled pallets. Zev kept us close to the walls. I tried to locate any interior cameras but came up empty. Again, that didn’t make sense. Didn’t most companies keep an eye on their inventory? The green glow of an exit sign shone ahead, and unsurprisingly, Zev headed straight for it.

| SHOrT STOry |

He stopped and looked at me over his shoulder, his face dark with intent. I didn’t need to see through walls to know what waited on the other side. Beyond that door would be whoever wanted Jeremy. In that moment, it hit me that I would probably end up shooting someone, maybe even killing them. It wouldn’t be the first time, but it also wasn’t a regular thing for me. Granted, I gained my previous experience in killing because I was determined to keep breathing, but still, my conscience trembled. Of course, the minute Zev opened the door and I pulled the trigger, we’d lose any advantage our unexpected appearance would garner. This was a cluster just waiting to happen.

I tried not to pant as nerves and pain sent my adrenaline into hyperdrive. Reacting to the danger signals, my magic hummed, and I could feel the invisible shift as its protective layer deepened. I adjusted my grip on my gun, rolled my shoulders, then gave him a nod.

In a blink, deep indigo energy flared to life between his hands as he called forth power. This time, he didn’t bother opening the door. Instead, he threw whatever magic he’d gathered at the door. It blew off its hinges with an earsplitting screech. He followed in its wake.

An invisible wind tore my hair across my face, blinding me for a split second. Zev’s explosive entrance caught those on the other side off guard, causing a split-second distraction that didn’t end with Zev or me dead. We stalked through the resulting dust cloud into an open area of desks lined with computer monitors and chairs. Along one side was a line of whiteboards, some covered in ink, standing guard before the rattling blinds covering the windows.

The bark of a gun was echoed by a sharp pained shout. Leaving Zev to his target, I aimed toward the shooter. I found him half hidden behind the questionable protection of a whiteboard. I waited until he peered around the edge, ready to take his shot at Zev, and I took mine. Since Zev didn’t slow, it was safe to assume the shooter’s shot went wide, but mine took the shooter high in the shoulder. He stumbled back, twisted, and turned his gun my way. to process my accuracy as something heavy struck me, knocking me into one of the desks. I turned, raising my arm to block whoever was attacking, but no one was there. Instead, a whiteboard zipped by, propelled by an invisible wind to join the other one on a direct route to Zev. Since he was currently engaged in slinging magical punches with a large bald guy, I yelled, “Zev, incoming!”

He turned and his face darkened as he caught sight of the careening whiteboards. He made a throwing motion with one hand and blocked the first whiteboard’s attack with the other. Baldy’s torso wrenched back, and his face went from focused aggression to an alarming red color. The second whiteboard slammed into Zev’s back just as I found myself being flung backward across the desks behind me.

The unexpected impact rang through me, and my gun tumbled from nerveless fingers to the floor. There was no time to panic as my focus shifted to getting out from under the snarling thin-faced man determined to introduce his fist to my face repeatedly. As he rammed his fist down, I jerked my head to the side. Instead of hitting my face, his fist met the desk with an audible crack. He didn’t wince as the desks trembled under the impact. No way could I afford to have him land a punch. That much strength meant I wouldn’t get back up. Strangely, instead of trying to hit me again, he leaned his weight deeper into me, his lower body pinning me in place as his fingers curled into a claw and aimed for my throat.

Now that I was caught in the awkward position, my options were limited. I cupped my hands and slammed them over his ears. His hands flew up as he yowled and jerked back, trying to get out of reach. He struck out, his fist landing a glancing blow on my ribs, the same spot injured in the wreck.

My breath whooshed out, proving I was right. His strengthwas magically enhanced. While my magic deflected the worst of it, white edged my vision as pain curled around my torso and breathing became difficult. He struck out again, and this time, my magic returned the favor. He jerked back with a muffled grunt.

Desperate to get out from under him and needing to take advantage of the unexpected opening, I fought through the pain. Somehow, I managed to curl my

legs up and kick out with my feet. My boots met his gut and shoved him back. Finally able to move, I did an awkward pain-filled roll off the desk. I almost hit the floor face-first but stayed on my feet, one hand on the desk for balance, the other scrambling for my fallen weapon on the floor.

My ribs screamed in protest as my fingers curled around the grip, but before I could get it up and around, my head was wrenched backward. I got my free hand on my hair, trying to keep from being snatched bald by the dick trying to use my hair as a leash. My other hand kept scrambling for the gun.

As he pulled, I stumbled back but dragged the gun with me. Despite his grip on my hair, I turned until we were all but breathing the same air. I brought my gun up. His eyes widened, and with a yell, he locked my wrist in an agonizing grip. My bones grated under the pressure, but I pulled the trigger. He cried out as red bloomed along his ribs.

He tore his hand out of my hair, and the painful vise around my wrist disappeared. The loud blast of the gun left my ears ringing, but it didn’t slow me down. Utilizing the sudden space between us, I brought my knee up hard, nailing him in the nuts. He went bonewhite and doubled over.

It was my turn to grab his short, muddy-brown hair and help his face meet my knee. When I let go, he slumped to the floor, his legs drawn up as he moaned and bled. I scrambled over him and found that Zev really didn’t need my help. In fact, beside the first guy I shot and the one ontemplating a new career as a soprano, I spotted two other bodies. One crushed under a pile of debris that used to be part of the ceiling. All I could see of the other was their slicksoled shoes sticking out from behind a desk.

Zev was towering over Baldy, who knelt before him, his face twisted into a grimace. I made my way over. As I got closer, I could feel the press of working magic, but it appeared to be contained to the two men.

Zev’s longish hair fluttered in an invisible wind, and those dark eyes glowed with power. “You can’t keep it up, man.” Despite the apparent wind, sweat beaded Baldy’s skin, trickling down the deep grooves lining his face. His response wasn’t verbal, but whatever he did caused Zev to give a soft grunt. The magical pressure increased to a level that made even my teeth ache. Baldy’s spine curved, and his head went back as the tendons on the side of his neck stretched painfully taut. His hands were fisted at his side. Whatever Zev was doing to him obviously hurt like hell. This time, a low groan escaped him, sounding suspiciously close to a curse.

As if that sound was a signal, the intensity around Zev ratcheted down a notch, and whatever magic he had wrapped around Baldy lessened. The painful arc of the kneeling man’s spine relaxed, and his head slumped forward, but I still caught the telltale streaks of blood leaking from his eyes and nose. With deceptive casualness, Zev dropped into a crouch, getting to face level with Baldy. He braced his arms on his knees, his hands hanging loose. “Let’s try this again. You’re here to collect the boy.”

“Yes.” The word sounded like it was being forced out, and it probably was.

Instead of dropping into a chair, I turned away from the two men and made my way toward the windows. The position had the added advantage of giving a clear view of the room’s entrances. This way, I could listen to Zev’s interrogation session and make sure the team we left at the wreck didn’t come back and surprise us.

“For who?”

“Stephen Trask.”

The name made me stop and turn to share a look with Zev. I recognized that name. I tried to remember why and realized that Trask had been in the news recently, thanks to a rather large donation to a local university. Why would he be after Jeremy?

Zev went back to Baldy, and I went back to my self assigned position. “Head of Research for Origin.” Zev wasn’t really asking a question so much as verifying exactly who would reap a Family’s vengeance.

Still Baldy answered, “Yes.”

That explained it. If Jeremy’s mom was selling LanTech information to Origin, Trask would be the buyer. I shook my head and used the Walther’s barrel to

| SHOrT STOry |

nudge the blinds enough to see out front. A couple of other buildings sat in front of this one, leaving only a sliver view of the parking lot. So far, everything seemed quiet.

Behind me, Zev kept on point. “Why?”

“Don’t know.”

A strangled moan rode the edge of a scream, but I refused to look. I didn’t want any visuals.

“Why go after the boy?” Zev’s voice gained a dangerous darkness that left goose bumps traipsing down my spine.

“Don’t know,” Baldy repeated before hitching a sharp breath. Within seconds, he blurted out, “Orders were to set up an ambush, eliminate any witnesses, collect the boy, bring him back. Alive.”

My blood froze. Eliminate witnesses? I knew exactly what I would’ve been considered. Guess I should be grateful for Zev’s interference. I continued to stare unseeingly out the window even as I felt the weight of Zev’s attention. Nope, not looking back.

That strange sense of being stared at faded. Zev asked, “So the man who had the boy, he wasn’t yours?”

“No.” The denial came out on a harsh exhale.

Uh, hadn’t even thought about Mr. Jones being the s in witnesses, but it made sense. It also meant if Zev’s assumptions were right, Mr. Jones worked for LanTech. And come to think of it, Frick and Frack probably did as well.

A wash of headlights briefly flashed over the parking lot. “We’ve got company,” I warned Zev as I kept my attention on the next approaching threat.

Behind me, magic swelled. A panicked grunt was followed by a dull thud. I closed my eyes, knowing what I’d see when I turned around. Guilt tried to find a spot to join the other fun emotions from the night’s adventure, but it didn’t have much room left to get comfortable. I looked back, and sure enough, Baldy was no longer among the living. In fact, he was facedown on the floor, blood seeping into a widening pool around his head. Zev straightened and turned to me. Panic rose as he, a predator in human skin, stalked toward me. The way he so casually wielded his magic made my hindbrain claw for escape. Pure stubbornness kept me locked in place.

He stepped in close, brushing against me as he used a finger to pull the blinds back enough to see. I did my best to keep my breathing steady, but I couldn’t escape the hint of his scent, one that brought to mind something wild and untamed. It was both intriguing and scary as hell. “What now?”

He let the blinds drop back into place with a clatter and shifted to face me. “Now it’s my turn to send a message.”

I swallowed hard as he turned away, leaving me to follow.

He walked back toward where we made our explosive entrance. I kept pace. “Um, aren’t we going the wrong way?”

His answer was to weave his way through the desks. He stopped next to where I left my soprano hopeful on the floor and shot me a disgusted look over his shoulder. “You left him alive?”

“He’s not going anywhere.” My words came out defensive, and I wondered why I was defending my choice not to kill.

Zev shook his head and dropped into a crouch. From my position, I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I sure could hear the panicked pleas for mercy. When they were abruptly cut short, I winced. Zev stood up, tucked away a small blade, and then came back toward me. When he drew even with where I stood, he leaned in and held my gaze with his. In a low voice, he said, “Now he won’t be coming at our backs.”

With that ominous statement, he swept by me. I stood there, tension holding me in place, the grip of my gun heavy in my hand as the fleeting thought ran through my mind that having Zev at my back wasn’t safe either. Not that there was anything I could do about it. The weight of my gun made me reconsider. Well, not that I could easily live with or survive. For now, I just needed to concentrate on getting through this without pissing him off. I wasn’t sure that was

possible, since he seemed to be a permanent grump, but I hoped he’d take his frustration and anger out on Origin’s acquisitions team and leave me the hell alone.

I turned and found him watching me from his position by the double doors leading toward the front of the building. Nothing in his expression indicated he knew what I was thinking, but I still felt antsy. Under that disconcerting gaze, I made my way over, slowing when I got close. He arched one brow, a sardonic light gleaming in his eyes. He pulled the door open and gallantly waved me through. “After you.”

I refrained, barely, from commenting. Speaking would only get me in trouble, and I had enough trouble on my plate as it was. I stepped through the door and into a wide-open lobby. Under a simple yet beautiful piece of hanging glass artwork was a curving reception desk. Accent lights lay high along the wall edges. The moody light danced along the winding glass lines, creating tiny stars of illumination along the walls. The whimsical play of light helped dissipate the gloom shrouding the space. Large windows curtained by half-opened plantation shutters framed the tinted glass door. Cushy seats were scattered in the waiting area like toppled guards at rest. On the left, sitting back against the wall, appeared to be a coffee maker and water station. You know, for when waiting became strenuous.

To the right was a wall open at both ends, creating a dimly lit hall and probably hiding the bathrooms. Behind me, the door shut with a click. Zev brushed by me. “Come on.”

I followed him to the front door. “There’s not much cover here.”

“We don’t need it.”

We didn’t?

“We take them as they come in.”

With what? A stapler? Or maybe blind them with correction fluid? I couldn’t see either of those items on the freakishly neat reception desk, though. Instead of asking for details on how he planned to accomplish his goal, I checked my ammunition. Four rounds. Not good but better than a stapler. I looked up.

Zev was standing at the edge of the shutters, one finger angling the slats enough so he could watch outside, his attention clearly on our approaching visitors.

“Four.” The look he shot me had me adding, “I wasn’t exactly expecting to engage in a shoot-out tonight.” But then, I never planned on such an occurrence. As far as I was concerned, if a situation required more than nine bullets, another nine wouldn’t be much help.

He shook his head. “Can you handle a knife?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think bringing a knife to a gun fight is the best approach here.”

Zev reached to his back and came out with a KABAR Skeleton knife. He offered it to me hilt first. “Consider it a last resort.”

Oh, that was encouraging. I took the blade and carefully put it in the inside pocket of my jacket. The knife was lightweight and compact enough not to be obvious, but as a last resort, it would do. “Do you have anything more elaborate than taking them as they come?”

“Yeah, get in place on the other side of the door and wait until the last one clears the door before you fire. Make sure they don’t get up.”

The cold practicality in his tone sent ice careening through my veins to set up shop in my soul. It left a peculiar numbness behind, but I understood. The fight wouldn’t be about self-defense. It would be a cold-blooded evening of the odds. He turned, his gaze relentless and his face stone hard. “Is that a problem?”

I had the feeling that if I said yes, he’d ensure my conscience wouldn’t be bothered for long, so I held that uncomfortable gaze and managed a rough “No.”

I made my way to the other side of the door, feeling the weight of his stare at my back. Skirting a couple of cushy chairs, I then put my back to the wall by the shuttered windows, keeping clear of the door,

| SHOrT STOry |

and held my gun in a two-handed grip, barrel aimed at the floor. I took a couple of deep breaths and focused, locking down my churning thoughts. As the silence settled, everything took on a preternatural sharpness. The sound of rock scraping against concrete came from outside. Then the muted impact of approaching footsteps.

Zev caught my eye and held up four fingers.

I dipped my chin in acknowledgement, and he slipped back into the deepening shadows crowding the entrance. One more deep breath and I raised my gun, elbows bent, pulse steady.

A series of beeps preceded the latch releasing, then the door opened. Unfortunately, it opened in, blocking my line of sight, but my ears worked just fine.

“...know who took him out, but we better find the bastard.” Irritation was clear in the male voice.

“Wanna keep your voice down?” the guy taking point uttered in a low, harsh tone.

Through the tinted glass of the door I could make out a vague profile of a thick jaw, big nose, heavy brow, buzz cut, and bulky body to match.

I held my breath as Bruiser put his back to the door, holding it open with one hand, the familiar outline of a gun in the other as he waved his team in. The one doing the bitching continued to grumble under his breath as he brushed by. He was taller with a leaner build but a similar haircut.

I adjusted my aim to just beyond the door, tracking Mr. Grouch. My ammunition was limited, and I didn’t want to waste it shooting through glass.

A third individual who moved with a disturbing grace that had me reassessing their threat potential followed on his heels. Their head was angled over their shoulder, so all I could make out was longer hair than the first two, but the build leaned toward female.

Before the group’s fourth made an entrance, Lady Luck decided to leave the building. Mr. Grouch cleared the door and was halfway to the empty reception desk when he did a quick glance to his left and spotted me. Instead of calling out a warning to the others, he let out a furious roar and charged me. A shimmer around his upraised fist indicated he was about to nail me with some sort of spell.

Before he could let loose, I pulled the trigger. He stumbled back, his rage-twisted features going blank and the rising magic sputtering to nothing.

There was no time to enjoy my small victory. The scary-ass woman targeted me, leaving Zev to Bruiser and the unknown fourth member of their group. She made an inhuman jump from the door to the top of the reception desk. I had her in my sights when an eerie wail preceded the nearby chairs rising on a rush of air and slamming into me, knocking my shot wide.

Air Mage.

I darted for the scant protection of the dividing wall by the bathrooms, hoping that by eliminating her line of sight, I could avoid the worst of her attack. A low accent table slid toward me as if shoved by an invisible hand. I made a mad lunge toward the relative safety of the bathroom hall.

Too little, too late. The table slammed into my calf. The pain of the impact was sharp and sudden, leaving a shocked numbness in its wake. I stumbled forward and all but dove into the hall like a kid trying to tag a base. Half crawling, half scrambling, gun still in hand, I limped my way toward the other end. If I could make it, it would bring me out behind and to her left. I hugged the wall, using doorjambs and water fountains as anchors against the vicious wind ripping through the hall. Hard as it was, I tried not to stare at the shuddering dividing wall as it shook under the continuous assault of battering furniture on the other side. If I didn’t hurry the hell up, she’d smash her way through and squash me like a fly.

The wind arrowed through the narrow hall, plastering my clothes against my limbs in an awkward tangle. The furious gusts wailed, adding to the deafening cacophony, and whipped my hair forward, blinding me. Lethal air currents fought to wrap around my neck, but my protective power did its job. The murderous air currents might toss me around like a broken doll, but they couldn’t tighten enough to strangle me.

Gritting my teeth against the relentless onslaught, I fought my way forward, gaining inches at a time. Somehow, despite the brutal gusts threatening to tear me away from my precarious hold, I made it to the end, gun still clutched tightly in hand. A few more inches and nothing would stand between me and the Air Mage. If I wanted to survive, I needed to end this quick.

Knowing the move was desperate but unable to drum up other options, I let go of the doorjamb. With a gleeful scream, her power slammed into me, all but throwing me clear of the hall and toward the back wall. Pure luck had me twisting as I flew toward the wall, so she and I faced each other. I got a glimpse of an eerie green glow surrounding her as she crouched like a deranged gargoyle on top of the receptionist’s desk. I lifted my gun, finger tightening on the trigger, and felt the gun kick with the last two shots. The gunfire was drowned out under the unnatural gale. My gun clicked empty as my spine hit the wall. The back of my skull was quick to follow, leaving my vision wonky. The windstorm held me in place, pinning me like a butterfly to the wall. My eyes teared, either from the hit or the wind or both. As I blinked the moisture away, a rain of stars fell, showering the Air Mage.

The tiny pieces of lights were caught in the swirling currents as they wrapped around her, and for a breathless moment the sight was beautiful, a mesmerizing cloak of stars.

Then it went horrifically wrong.

The cloak of stars took on a reddish hue that deepened with each passing second, turning into a shroud of glittering glass shards. Score one for the desperate option. My bullets found their mark in the glass artwork adorning the ceiling above the mage. As it shattered, her preternatural wind had gathered the splinters into a lethal cloud of tiny little blades.

Caught up in the fury of her elemental magic, she missed the unexpected twist in her attack. Numerous slivers found their target on her exposed skin and sank deep, dotting her exposed skin red. At first, she flinched as if shrugging off an annoying bug, but within seconds that flinch turned into a full-blown, teeth-baring grimace as those same razor-edged pieces grew in number. In an effort to direct the fall-

| JAMI GrAy |

out away from her, she forced her magic to shift direction. Her change caused the pressure holding me in place to disappear. Freed from the invisible restraints, I slid down the wall, but I did it with a smile. As my butt hit the floor, I met her gaze.

Her grimace shifted to a frown, but then she retraced the direction of my gaze and looked up. Above her, the large broken shards still swayed from being shot. The unexpected change in air pressure from her airy tantrum snapped the dangling pieces free of their last restraints. Her eyes widened.

I winced and looked away as she got a face full of glass. The horrific image of a gory reverse pincushion would haunt me for a damn long while. The dull thud of her body being swept off the desk was joined by the wave of discordant chimes from the death throes of the glass artwork.

For a moment I sat on the floor, ears ringing, body aching, head throbbing, and wondered if I could get away with sitting out the rest of the night’s adventures.

A body slid across the floor in front of me, its head impacting the wall to my left with enough force to break through the drywall. Guess not.

The End, Pt.5

© Copyright 2020 Jami Gray All rights reserved. Published with permission.

feature authors

fantasy | paranormal suspense

J.P. Roth

John Hazen