Chapter Eighteen

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"Shit." This time, it was Garrett who swore. Immediately after, he began to chant. Their opportunity for a surprise attack had passed. Already, Payne, Harlin, and Banks were preparing their dark curses.

With but a word, Murray flooded the room with blinding light. No shadow remained for the daemon to utilize, not even under the table or chairs. Both Ophelia and Søren shielded their eyes with their hands.

"Evil fucking shaman." Halla squinted daggers at Stanton.

For his part, Owen chanted defensive spells. As Banks lobbed a black curse, he counteracted it with sanctioned magic. Soon, however, with two men essentially down, it became apparent he and Fitzgerald were outnumbered. If they didn't receive backup, the fight would be over far too soon.

Garrett was taking on the two top chancellors. Ophelia, not versed in combat magic, was trying to break through the booby traps. Her eyes watered as she worked her foundling shaman spells. Søren stood aside cussing.

Get Sabra, Owen dared to take a precious second he didn't have to order the Finn. Halla didn't take affront. Instead, he disappeared into Murray's dark office without a word.

"You're outmatched, Walker," Banks taunted. That the beautiful but evil man was wasting his breath doing so didn't bother Owen. It was preferable. With Patrick's mouth otherwise occupied, the odds inched incrementally more in Owen's and Garrett's favor.

"I've been wanting to kill you for some time now," Patrick continued. "Murray promised that you and your bitch were mine."

The taunt disparaging Ophelia nearly had Owen reacting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fitzgerald's head shake once in the negative. Following the chancellor's lead, Owen didn't let up with counteracting the others' spells. Before him, his dragon growled out trap-disabling words. Otherwise, there was no other response to Banks' name-calling.

Then, Patrick went silent. His evil eyes trained on Ophelia and he began to work his curse. Panicked, Owen lined up a counter. But it was difficult with his attention split between two, chanting shaman who had death on their minds. It was exhausting work, but he pushed through. Fi's life was on the line.

"It's time to go on the offensive," Sabra announced as she came up from behind. Neither Garrett nor Owen responded. They were too busy chanting.

"Most of the trap wards are down," Fi told Sabra. Her voice was hoarse from all the chanting she'd done.

"Perfect," the ebony-haired woman all but purred. From various pockets, Sabra pulled out medallions and charms. Selecting one, round rock with a hole through its middle, she looked squarely at Noel. "Gi-izi-lá," she whispered across the stone.

Fi's gaze followed Sabra's to Chancellor Harlin as she chanted another trap-disarming spell. The brown-haired man's equally brown eyes widened. "But you're a woman," he said wonderingly as the magic hit. Then, he screamed. Flames licked out of his opened mouth. Sabra's spell burned him from the inside. Within seconds, only ash remained where a man had once been.

"I said, no more deaths," Fitzgerald gritted out between clenched teeth.

"I'm not one of your precious little acolytes to follow orders," Sabra snapped. She had another charm and target in her sights. Payne was next.

"My kind of woman," Halla said in awe. Then, "Cut the lights and I'll end this for you," he darkly vowed. Although it appeared he was doing naught, he was using his mental magic, filling the unfriendlies with doubt.

"No," Garrett responded. "We take them alive."

Sabra scoffed as Fi cut through the last of the traps with her newfound shaman magic. Flicking a glance behind her, she briefly caught Owen's eye. I'll do what's necessary, she sent.

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