Shatter the Earth (Cassandra Palmer 10)

Even worse, the little hits of power I was getting through the bond weren’t enough to let me end the stalemate. I couldn’t shift someone I couldn’t see; I didn’t have enough power to freeze the whole corridor; and I couldn’t throw something lethal in a hallway full of allies! All I could do was hold on, feeling like someone who had managed to hook a great white shark and was being towed through the water after it, unsure of who had just captured who.

But I had to figure out something soon, or I was going to lose this bastard—and possibly my head!

I ducked under a massive tree root, which was just hanging down into the corridor for some reason, like a weird decoration. Then tripped over another pushing up from the floor, and landed on my face. And got pulled along for half a dozen yards before my quarry rounded a corner, and the brief slow down allowed me time to stumble back to my feet.

But that was the only advantage. This part of the complex was darker and appeared to be deserted. Even if I wanted to try to get any war mages to listen to me, there weren’t any.

But there was something else.

The little dots Pritkin had showed me, which the Corps used as markers for problem areas from the last attack, glowed brightly in the gloom. And they were everywhere down here, spotting the walls, ceiling and floor, so thickly that it looked like the whole place was polka dotted. I guess small side tunnels weren’t considered priorities for clearing, meaning that this one had just been marked and left . . .

It had been left.

I stared around, trying to spot something that wasn’t indicating a collapsed doorway or a spilled potion. Or a brilliant red dot warning of unexploded ordinance, because I wasn’t trying to kill the bastard, damn it! I needed—

That, I thought, spotting a black dot on the corridor wall up ahead, like a flake of obsidian. It was glinting in the light of one of the randomly spaced lamps down here, dark and shiny and mysterious. Because I still didn’t know what that color meant.

And there was only one way to find out.

I gathered my strength, tightened my grip, and set my feet.

And jerked.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“I said I’m fine,” I told the medic, who was hovering around me.

“With . . . with all due respect, Lady, you do not look fine,” he said, his voice low, probably in the hopes that it would encourage certain other people to follow suit.

It did not so encourage.

“She looks bloody awful!” Pritkin yelled, and even from across the large room we were in, it was loud.

I sighed.

“Give me a mirror,” I said, and the medic dug one out of his bag.

It was the small type that they used to check to see whether you’re still breathing, but it worked well enough. It showed me back a perfectly made up face, freshly powdered, with plump, healthy cheeks and normal blue eyes sans bags of any kind. I looked like I was ready to go to an award’s show after spending a day at the spa.

Until I angled the mirror downward slightly. And, okay, that was bad. That was actually kind of horrible. Because Augustine’s jumpsuit was still in place, except for the skullcap, making me invisible below the neck. Which wouldn’t have been so bad, except that the neck in question had rivulets of blood dripping everywhere.

That was probably from having my head and face dragged across gravel-studded floors for what felt like half a block, I thought grimly, wondering what I looked like under the glamourie.

I decided I didn’t want to know.

But as it was, I looked like I ought to be decorating a shelf at Madame Tussaud’s, fresh from the guillotine. It was probably why the medic looked so spooked. And why Pritkin’s welcome upon my arrival, back in my proper place in the time line and pulling what looked like a levitating iron maiden, had gone so well.

My ears were still ringing.

And my neck, I saw with irritation, was still bleeding. Great. “Do you have any wet wipes?” I asked.

The young mage just stared at me. I poked him; I didn’t have all day. He jumped, and quickly pawed through his bag some more.

There were only five left in the packet and I used them all, including running a few over my face, which of course didn’t change. But the wipes came back pretty damned red. The same color I was seeing when I go

t up and walked over to the prisoner.

He was not fey.