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Description
Upon further inspection Ambrosia found the mysterious alleyway creature to be rather disappointing.

The cat hissed. Its ginger fur bristled as it stood its ground, positioned defensively on a top of a trash can. It seemed unafraid of the fire in her hand.

“Shoo!” Ambrosia hissed back.

For a moment it seemed like the cat was going to listen, but then it let out another piercing screech and lunged. Ambrosia was too surprised at the sudden assault to react. She felt claws rake across her cheek and before she knew it her butt connected with the concrete and the fire in the hand was lobbed halfway across the street, burning a patch of paint from a closed storefront.

Oops, she thought with a grimace, scrambling to her feet. She turned just in time to see a ginger tail disappear into the alleyway. For a moment she thought about chasing after it to extract revenge, but the idea was quickly dispelled. There was no point in wasting time chasing after a cat with anger management issues.

She rubbed her cheek, glaring into the darkness, as her blood chilled. Something felt off. On a hunch she checked her bag and found that something was indeed off. That something just happened to be her spell-writing chalk, which was missing from its normal pouch on the face of her bag. The pouch had been torn open in a way that suggested it had angered a group of garden appliances. Her mind slowly worked together what happened.

She whirled around and lit the street with a bright flash of firelight. Her chalk was nowhere to be seen. Rage burned her ears. She hadn’t just been bested by a random creature in an alleyway; she had been bested by a cat. A cat with meat cleavers for claws, but still a cat.

And she hated cats.

She raced down the alleyway, a spell on the tip of her fingers. If that feline thought it could get away with stealing her magic chalk, it had another thing coming. A thought in the back of her mind told her how silly the whole thing seemed, but she ignored it. Before she could get far, however, her phone went off with a shrill buzz. With an exhale of annoyance she flipped it open.

“Can’t this wait?” she snapped.

“Seven pigs.”

“What?”

“I just got another report,” Ralf said, “an agent called in and reported that this gang had seven members. Seven members, Ambrosia. You only have five here.”

She leaned against a wall, taking this in. “But there was only five in the warehouse! I checked every square inch. There’s no way…”

“They might have been out when we went in. It doesn’t matter. The point is that we’re missing two.”

A silence hung between them. She could go home right now, and tell him to do the same. They would still get at least half of the bounty, and while that wasn’t much it would support her for the week. She could wait until something better came up. It wouldn’t be too hard, and she was tired from the long day. Unfortunately, that would mean leaving a job unfinished.

She sighed. “I’ll be there soon.”

She flipped her phone closed and hurried further into the alleyway. If she got her chalk back quickly she could be back to the warehouse in half an hour. She turned a corner, out of the range of the streetlights, and let a fire bloom in her palm. The flame was a beacon in the dark; it made an easy target, but she was so tense that nothing could move outside her notice. She was so tense, in fact, that she almost jumped out of her skin when a drop of water splashed against her nose.

Of course it had to rain now. The weather seemed to have a sense of drama that sprung up only when she was trying to get a job done. The fact that rain wasn’t exactly rare in these parts didn’t help matters.

The cat was waiting around the corner. It sat hunched in between two buildings, its back to her as if her presence was nonexistent. Her chalk had been tossed onto the wet ground at least twenty feet away. As she approached she saw that the cat was staring at it steadily. Her first thought was to give the feline a piece of her mind, but the way it was staring so intently made her feel nervous to approach so she settled for sidling past it and going for the chalk.

You get off easy this time, cat.

A shiver crept up her spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold. There was a shift in the air as she advanced. Her flame went out at the same time her legs seized up, unwilling to go forward. Immediately she stumbled back, staring at the clear air as her battle instincts began to sing. Finally she noticed something that caused her to light up the area with a bright ball of flames. Faint runes were engraved into the ground, pulsing a dull, sickly red. They stretched between the buildings at two points, enclosing an area that included her chalk and a door that was slightly ajar. One was stretched at her feet.

That was defiantly strange. She didn’t recognize the runes either; they were an older dialect, one that she had spent little time learning in favor for the newer, quicker runes.

“Well,” she whispered, “what’s this about?”

Crouching by the runes, she quickly conjured a simple disruptor spell and let her fingers brush the concrete. Immediately a flush of orange light pulsed across the runes. They crackled unhappily, pulsing once or twice until the light faded and all that was left were faint scratches.

Before she could even blink the cat dashed across the alley and through the door. Curious, Ambrosia scooped up her chalk and followed after it. She entered in time to see a ginger tail disappear around the corner of the dimly lit hall. Doors dotted the walls.

Around the corner she spied a single door ajar, which she peered into. Boxes were stacked haphazardly across the floor, some forming towers that looked ready to collapse. In the absence of a light switch she allowed a small flame to form in her cupped hand. Her light illuminated a furry figure crouched next to a tower of sagging boxes, its head bent to something just out of view.

She frowned. Something about this building felt unnerving, like the air itself was trying to warn her. The oxygen seemed thick and hard to inhale.

She crept forward, trying not to startle the cat. In truth she wanted to blast it with a rush of fire, but her curiosity overrode her anger. The cat was either smart enough to trick her into letting it into the building or was simply running in circles. Either way, it unnerved her too much to simply ignore. For all she knew it would follow her home and steal her fridge.

There was something behind the boxes. She could see a pair of ginger-furred paws sticking out from behind them. They looked wrong, as if everything but fur and bone had been sucked out.

The cat raised its head and let out a mournful yowl, shattering the silence. She froze, listening to the sound echo through the hallway, and barely managed to slip behind a mound of boxes before the door was shoved open.

Heavy footsteps approached slowly. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, making her fingers tingle with heat, but she forced herself not to allow a fire to spark on her palms and rush to the mysterious visitor. She waited for the figure to go after the cat, to chase it away, but soon the footsteps ceased and silence once again reigned. Pressure was building in her chest. Just as she was about to give up and attack the footsteps resumed.

She released a breath as the sound faded and stopped, capped off by the closing of a distant door. Ambrosia glanced around. A pair of eyes appeared high in the jungle of boxes, glaring at the door with a smoldering hatred that Ambrosia wouldn't have thought an animal capable of. She got to her feet and carefully peered into the hallway. At the far end it branched into a “T” with a door at the intersection, from which she could see a line of eerily red light shining out from the bottom.

Careful not to make a sound, the wizard approached the door. The light flickered as a pair of feet passed in front of it. In the quiet she could hear the low murmuring of voices.

Once again the chalk was in her hands and a paper was slipped from her bag. She quickly scribbled down a listening spell and pressed the paper against the door, allowing a spark of magic to flow through her hand and activate the spell. Immediately voices flowed into her head.

“…had one job and you nearly already ruined that. I don’t see why…”

“Correction: I had two jobs. And I think I’m doing pretty well with the second one so far.”

There was an icy silence and the second voice hastily added, “Sir.”

“I’ll decide how well you do on this when we’re finished. Now stop blabbering and get back to work. We'll resume discussions later, when this is all done. The last thing we need is months of research to go to waste.”

There was a scrape of metal against wood and the rustling of papers, accompanied by the first voice berating the second. The first voice was sharp and chilly, like the edge of a knife. It seemed to cut through the air and leave all other sounds muted. She could gather little from the second voice, not even its gender.

Well, no point in standing around if I can’t even see what’s going on.

Remembering how the spell was written took a few minutes, but she eventually managed to sketch it lightly onto the door with her chalk, any faint scrapings masked by the sounds in the room. Soon it was done and, keeping the listening spell secure, she put her other hand on the designated circle on the wood and let power spark from her fingers. She probably shouldn’t have been spending this much energy when she was already rather drained, but by now she was so absorbed in the investigation that conservation was the last thing on her mind.

An image appeared on the door, as if it had turned into thick, smudged glass. Behind it a single figure stood, a hand on his hips. His other arm was hidden behind a thick cloak.

Ambrosia raised an eyebrow. Seriously, who wears cloaks these days? You’re just begging for suspicion.

She squinted, trying to see the other figure. Red runes were spread out across the room. They covered the floor and snaked across the walls, slipping in and out of the thick shadows and eventually circling around an empty bucket in the center of the room. Only their dull color showed that they had yet to be activated. She could see no one else.

The figure turned and she flinched, but he was simply frowning at the wall to her left. A shadow flickered into view. She waited for the shadow’s owner to follow, but it never did. Red sparks crackled from the runes as the shadow passed over them, skimming along the lines with a casual ease as if to check them, the point where it would normally be attached to a body simply trailing behind it like a tail.

A shade? I’ve never seen one of those around here before. I don’t think they’re even allowed in the city.

“All done, boss,” the shade said, circling around the man’s feet. “Runes are in place, double-checked and triple-checked. I even went for a quadruple check while I was at it.”
When the man didn’t chuckle the shade went on hurriedly. “So yeah, I’m ready when you are.”

“And the concoction?” he asked coldly.

“One part water, one part salt, and one part lifeblood.”

Ambrosia didn’t hear the man’s answer. Blood was roaring in her ears as realization suddenly slammed into her chest. A blood wizard.

It was time to leave.

Careful not to make a sound, she let the spells unravel and turned to tiptoe out the hall. The Council would need to know about this. Blood wizards were a big deal, and even she knew not to tackle one on her own.

A jolt went up her leg and she gasped, momentarily forgetting herself. She slapped her hands over her mouth and stared down at the security spell that pinned her foot to the floor. Sloppy runes, her mind immediately supplied, not like most blood wizards. They like things tough and precise but this looks like it was thrown together at the last minute. Poorly powered too, if it only sensed me now…

The part of her mind that wasn’t diagnosing the spell was fighting against it, hastily ripping at the attacking magic and trying to get into the spell’s base to deactivate it. The shimmering, rusty-red runes glowed a dark, sickly color. In her rising panic—why was this taking so long?—she caught the smell of wine and copper.

Behind her, the door slammed open. She twisted the best she could with one foot frozen to the floor and threw out her hand. Bright fire leapt from her fingertips, scorching the door as it was hastily thrown shut. She went to one knee and she shoved her smoldering hand onto the faint runes etched on the floor. Orange light flooded the hall as another burst of fire scorched the floor, obscuring the runes.

With a jerk she broke free and darted down the hall. Adrenalin roared in her ears, fueling her forward, and anger against blood wizards as a whole kept her going despite the tiredness beginning to drag at her limbs. Too much magic in too little time.

The shadows thickened in front of her. She skidded to a halt not five feet from the door, hand shooting out to blast the shade or the spell or whatever the wizard was trying to throw at her. But it was too late. Yellow light snapped into existence behind her, pinning her shadow sharply to the door—not just her shadow, though, because her shadow didn’t have two narrowed gaps where her eyes should have been, showing the brown wood behind it.

Trapped, was her first thought. She was pinned, unable to move, as if she had been frozen in time. Shadows shifted as the wizard approached. His footsteps echoed along the hall. But she was motionless, barely able to even breathe. Even when she tried to push with her magic she found that her mind was sluggish and cold.

The shade grinned. Ambrosia’s mind dully noted that the door gave it brown teeth.

“Careful with that light, Boss,” it said, “the more distinct her shadow the easier it is to paralyze.”

“I’m well aware.” The bounty hunter was faintly proud to hear a deep annoyance grinding at the man’s voice. “How did she get in?”

“If I had a guess, I’d say the door.”

A long silence.

“Er…I mean, sir, I wanted to save as much energy as possible for, you know, the big spell, so I didn’t really spend that much on…”

“You skimmed out on security measures? The spells that keep people from barging in and ruining what we have spent months preparing? Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.”

“It’s because you can’t use your own—“

“Yes, thank you. I know. Now hold her still…”

There was a faint rustle behind her and she felt a band of paper bind her wrists together. As much as she wanted to jerk her head back and break his nose she still found herself unable to move.

“Ready,” the man said.

Something seemed to spark in the shade’s eyes. The paper tightened on her wrists, digging into her skin, as she felt the tingle of unfamiliar magic running up her arm. Even without seeing the runes she recognized the spell. Her own magic, which she had depended on since she was small, was absorbed into the thin band binding her wrists. Not good, was her only thought.

The light disappeared. No longer bound by the shade’s spell, she felt a sudden surge of energy. It was short lived, however, as a hand roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. The magic that instinctively leapt to her fingers was absorbed before it could even draw enough mana to work. Her body was lethargic from a long day of magic use and she found herself being dragged along the hallway with little she could do but struggle weakly.

To her surprise she was brought into the rune-covered room and deposited in the corner. The man gave her a stern look that suggested he would take care of her later. She had learned long ago not to think about what her enemies would do to her for revenge; even though she didn’t have the most colorful of imaginations, she could think of plenty of horrible punishments. It wasn’t healthy for her psych.

The man took a small vial from his coat. Its contents glittered a deep red as he tipped his hand and allowed the liquid to pour into the bucket in the center of the room. The runes around it crackled slightly, but there wasn’t enough magic for the spell to activate. That, evidently, was where the shade came in. It skimmed along the runes, dark red sparks leaping from the lines that it touched as the dull red color turned bright and luminous.

She could feel stifling magic filling the room, making the air feel hot and thick. The magic increased, the air growing hotter and thicker, as the shade poured more and more power into the spell. Ambrosia had no idea what the spell did, but she knew that it couldn’t be anything good. She squirmed fruitlessly, trying to free herself from the magic-sucking bonds.

The man was standing over the bucket, eyes glued to it. Behind him, in the corner of the room, was an empty can of red paint. Some of the runes were still wet.

This had gone far enough. Ambrosia took a deep breath; she felt a tightness in her throat, a comforting heat that usually centered itself in her scarred palms. Most of her magic was sucked into the bonds, but she still felt it close around her throat, choking her breath. Her lungs burned as she held it, allowing the magic to build…

She breathed. Fire leaped from her throat and spewed out across the flickering runes. The man jerked back with a shout and the shade screamed. Instantly the spell was broken. Thick magic poured into the air, stifling her breaths as she desperately sucked in oxygen. Her body felt drained and her throat was raw as a butcher’s meat, but she felt more alive than she had all night.

“Idiot!” the man screeched, and she wasn’t sure who he was talking to. All she could think about was how amazed she was that her plan had worked.

“Oh no, oh no,” the shade was whimpering as it circled around the broken runes, where her fire had scorched the ground. “This is bad!”

She was hauled to her feel and shoved roughly against the wall. Her shoulder screamed.

“You’re going to regret that,” the man hissed. In the back of her mind she dimly noted that he had the palest blue eyes she had ever seen.

She opened her mouth for a sharp reply, but her throat burned too much to allow her its use. Instead, she settled for glaring.

“So,” he said, voice suddenly an icy calm, “what’s your story, then? Sent by the Council to stop me?”

“Sir!”

He ignored the shade. Ambrosia felt herself locked into his piercing gaze. “Come now, you can tell me. How did they know I would be here?”

Her mouth opened on its own accord, as if yearning to answer him, but she forced it closed. What’s wrong with me?

A slow smile spread across his face. She tried to look away, but it was impossible—once again, she was trapped. A small spark glowed in his eyes.

In a slow, easy voice he said, “Fine, if you won’t answer me I’ll ask something else. You see, I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. I’ve been looking for something for quite some time, but can’t seem to find it. Surely you’ll be willing to help me, won’t you?”

Ambrosia jerked in her bonds, eyes still trapped.

“See, I’m not the bad guy here. I know it doesn’t look good, but you have to believe me. They forced my hands. That Counsel you serve so dearly gave me no choice but to take measures into my own hands. I’m going to ask you this once, and I want an answer. Alright?”

She was amazed to find herself nodding. Snap out of it!

“Good,” he said in a honey-sweet voice, “Now, I need you to tell me where I can find a dragon’s tooth.”

She stared.

“Come now, I know there’s one in this town. Just tell me where it is and everything will be okay.” His grip tightened on her arm, smile thin and cold.

Ambrosia opened her mouth and croaked through a burning throat, “Bite me.”

His icy smile twisted into a frown. This expression seemed much more at home on his face. Snapped out of his strange hypnotics and feeling a rush of rebellion, she raised her heel and slammed it onto his foot.

With a yelp he shoved her down. Her head hit the wall and she slumped to the ground, mind ringing. Above her the man was screaming, but she couldn’t make out most of the words.

“I want her gone!” she managed to hear him hiss, “I don’t care how, just get rid of her!”

“My magic…”

“I know you’re running out! Do you think I’m an idiot? But this girl has ruined our spell and there’s no way to salvage it until tomorrow at the very least. Just take a spell and get her out of our hair for good.”

With that the door slammed shut.

“Get rid of her,” the shade muttered in a mocking imitation of the man. “Keh, what does he think I am? A butler?”

There was a short, contemplating pause, as if it was flipping through a recipe book, and then the shade said, “Ah, this one will do. Now, hold still…I mean, not that you have much of a choice. Heh, I should be a comedian.”

The shade appeared on the ceiling above, eyes narrowed in concentrated slits. For a moment she could have sworn that the creature paused, eyes widening slightly in hesitation, but then a surge of icy magic flooded her veins and she faded to black.

With her last shred of consciousness she wondered if anyone would ever find her body in this empty town.

Description
Upon further inspection Ambrosia found the mysterious alleyway creature to be rather disappointing.

The cat hissed. Its ginger fur bristled as it stood its ground, positioned defensively on a top of a trash can. It seemed unafraid of the fire in her hand.

“Shoo!” Ambrosia hissed back.

For a moment it seemed like the cat was going to listen, but then it let out another piercing screech and lunged. Ambrosia was too surprised at the sudden assault to react. She felt claws rake across her cheek and before she knew it her butt connected with the concrete and the fire in the hand was lobbed halfway across the street, burning a patch of paint from a closed storefront.

Oops, she thought with a grimace, scrambling to her feet. She turned just in time to see a ginger tail disappear into the alleyway. For a moment she thought about chasing after it to extract revenge, but the idea was quickly dispelled. There was no point in wasting time chasing after a cat with anger management issues.

She rubbed her cheek, glaring into the darkness, as her blood chilled. Something felt off. On a hunch she checked her bag and found that something was indeed off. That something just happened to be her spell-writing chalk, which was missing from its normal pouch on the face of her bag. The pouch had been torn open in a way that suggested it had angered a group of garden appliances. Her mind slowly worked together what happened.

She whirled around and lit the street with a bright flash of firelight. Her chalk was nowhere to be seen. Rage burned her ears. She hadn’t just been bested by a random creature in an alleyway; she had been bested by a cat. A cat with meat cleavers for claws, but still a cat.

And she hated cats.

She raced down the alleyway, a spell on the tip of her fingers. If that feline thought it could get away with stealing her magic chalk, it had another thing coming. A thought in the back of her mind told her how silly the whole thing seemed, but she ignored it. Before she could get far, however, her phone went off with a shrill buzz. With an exhale of annoyance she flipped it open.

“Can’t this wait?” she snapped.

“Seven pigs.”

“What?”

“I just got another report,” Ralf said, “an agent called in and reported that this gang had seven members. Seven members, Ambrosia. You only have five here.”

She leaned against a wall, taking this in. “But there was only five in the warehouse! I checked every square inch. There’s no way…”

“They might have been out when we went in. It doesn’t matter. The point is that we’re missing two.”

A silence hung between them. She could go home right now, and tell him to do the same. They would still get at least half of the bounty, and while that wasn’t much it would support her for the week. She could wait until something better came up. It wouldn’t be too hard, and she was tired from the long day. Unfortunately, that would mean leaving a job unfinished.

She sighed. “I’ll be there soon.”

She flipped her phone closed and hurried further into the alleyway. If she got her chalk back quickly she could be back to the warehouse in half an hour. She turned a corner, out of the range of the streetlights, and let a fire bloom in her palm. The flame was a beacon in the dark; it made an easy target, but she was so tense that nothing could move outside her notice. She was so tense, in fact, that she almost jumped out of her skin when a drop of water splashed against her nose.

Of course it had to rain now. The weather seemed to have a sense of drama that sprung up only when she was trying to get a job done. The fact that rain wasn’t exactly rare in these parts didn’t help matters.

The cat was waiting around the corner. It sat hunched in between two buildings, its back to her as if her presence was nonexistent. Her chalk had been tossed onto the wet ground at least twenty feet away. As she approached she saw that the cat was staring at it steadily. Her first thought was to give the feline a piece of her mind, but the way it was staring so intently made her feel nervous to approach so she settled for sidling past it and going for the chalk.

You get off easy this time, cat.

A shiver crept up her spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold. There was a shift in the air as she advanced. Her flame went out at the same time her legs seized up, unwilling to go forward. Immediately she stumbled back, staring at the clear air as her battle instincts began to sing. Finally she noticed something that caused her to light up the area with a bright ball of flames. Faint runes were engraved into the ground, pulsing a dull, sickly red. They stretched between the buildings at two points, enclosing an area that included her chalk and a door that was slightly ajar. One was stretched at her feet.

That was defiantly strange. She didn’t recognize the runes either; they were an older dialect, one that she had spent little time learning in favor for the newer, quicker runes.

“Well,” she whispered, “what’s this about?”

Crouching by the runes, she quickly conjured a simple disruptor spell and let her fingers brush the concrete. Immediately a flush of orange light pulsed across the runes. They crackled unhappily, pulsing once or twice until the light faded and all that was left were faint scratches.

Before she could even blink the cat dashed across the alley and through the door. Curious, Ambrosia scooped up her chalk and followed after it. She entered in time to see a ginger tail disappear around the corner of the dimly lit hall. Doors dotted the walls.

Around the corner she spied a single door ajar, which she peered into. Boxes were stacked haphazardly across the floor, some forming towers that looked ready to collapse. In the absence of a light switch she allowed a small flame to form in her cupped hand. Her light illuminated a furry figure crouched next to a tower of sagging boxes, its head bent to something just out of view.

She frowned. Something about this building felt unnerving, like the air itself was trying to warn her. The oxygen seemed thick and hard to inhale.

She crept forward, trying not to startle the cat. In truth she wanted to blast it with a rush of fire, but her curiosity overrode her anger. The cat was either smart enough to trick her into letting it into the building or was simply running in circles. Either way, it unnerved her too much to simply ignore. For all she knew it would follow her home and steal her fridge.

There was something behind the boxes. She could see a pair of ginger-furred paws sticking out from behind them. They looked wrong, as if everything but fur and bone had been sucked out.

The cat raised its head and let out a mournful yowl, shattering the silence. She froze, listening to the sound echo through the hallway, and barely managed to slip behind a mound of boxes before the door was shoved open.

Heavy footsteps approached slowly. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, making her fingers tingle with heat, but she forced herself not to allow a fire to spark on her palms and rush to the mysterious visitor. She waited for the figure to go after the cat, to chase it away, but soon the footsteps ceased and silence once again reigned. Pressure was building in her chest. Just as she was about to give up and attack the footsteps resumed.

She released a breath as the sound faded and stopped, capped off by the closing of a distant door. Ambrosia glanced around. A pair of eyes appeared high in the jungle of boxes, glaring at the door with a smoldering hatred that Ambrosia wouldn't have thought an animal capable of. She got to her feet and carefully peered into the hallway. At the far end it branched into a “T” with a door at the intersection, from which she could see a line of eerily red light shining out from the bottom.

Careful not to make a sound, the wizard approached the door. The light flickered as a pair of feet passed in front of it. In the quiet she could hear the low murmuring of voices.

Once again the chalk was in her hands and a paper was slipped from her bag. She quickly scribbled down a listening spell and pressed the paper against the door, allowing a spark of magic to flow through her hand and activate the spell. Immediately voices flowed into her head.

“…had one job and you nearly already ruined that. I don’t see why…”

“Correction: I had two jobs. And I think I’m doing pretty well with the second one so far.”

There was an icy silence and the second voice hastily added, “Sir.”

“I’ll decide how well you do on this when we’re finished. Now stop blabbering and get back to work. We'll resume discussions later, when this is all done. The last thing we need is months of research to go to waste.”

There was a scrape of metal against wood and the rustling of papers, accompanied by the first voice berating the second. The first voice was sharp and chilly, like the edge of a knife. It seemed to cut through the air and leave all other sounds muted. She could gather little from the second voice, not even its gender.

Well, no point in standing around if I can’t even see what’s going on.

Remembering how the spell was written took a few minutes, but she eventually managed to sketch it lightly onto the door with her chalk, any faint scrapings masked by the sounds in the room. Soon it was done and, keeping the listening spell secure, she put her other hand on the designated circle on the wood and let power spark from her fingers. She probably shouldn’t have been spending this much energy when she was already rather drained, but by now she was so absorbed in the investigation that conservation was the last thing on her mind.

An image appeared on the door, as if it had turned into thick, smudged glass. Behind it a single figure stood, a hand on his hips. His other arm was hidden behind a thick cloak.

Ambrosia raised an eyebrow. Seriously, who wears cloaks these days? You’re just begging for suspicion.

She squinted, trying to see the other figure. Red runes were spread out across the room. They covered the floor and snaked across the walls, slipping in and out of the thick shadows and eventually circling around an empty bucket in the center of the room. Only their dull color showed that they had yet to be activated. She could see no one else.

The figure turned and she flinched, but he was simply frowning at the wall to her left. A shadow flickered into view. She waited for the shadow’s owner to follow, but it never did. Red sparks crackled from the runes as the shadow passed over them, skimming along the lines with a casual ease as if to check them, the point where it would normally be attached to a body simply trailing behind it like a tail.

A shade? I’ve never seen one of those around here before. I don’t think they’re even allowed in the city.

“All done, boss,” the shade said, circling around the man’s feet. “Runes are in place, double-checked and triple-checked. I even went for a quadruple check while I was at it.”
When the man didn’t chuckle the shade went on hurriedly. “So yeah, I’m ready when you are.”

“And the concoction?” he asked coldly.

“One part water, one part salt, and one part lifeblood.”

Ambrosia didn’t hear the man’s answer. Blood was roaring in her ears as realization suddenly slammed into her chest. A blood wizard.

It was time to leave.

Careful not to make a sound, she let the spells unravel and turned to tiptoe out the hall. The Council would need to know about this. Blood wizards were a big deal, and even she knew not to tackle one on her own.

A jolt went up her leg and she gasped, momentarily forgetting herself. She slapped her hands over her mouth and stared down at the security spell that pinned her foot to the floor. Sloppy runes, her mind immediately supplied, not like most blood wizards. They like things tough and precise but this looks like it was thrown together at the last minute. Poorly powered too, if it only sensed me now…

The part of her mind that wasn’t diagnosing the spell was fighting against it, hastily ripping at the attacking magic and trying to get into the spell’s base to deactivate it. The shimmering, rusty-red runes glowed a dark, sickly color. In her rising panic—why was this taking so long?—she caught the smell of wine and copper.

Behind her, the door slammed open. She twisted the best she could with one foot frozen to the floor and threw out her hand. Bright fire leapt from her fingertips, scorching the door as it was hastily thrown shut. She went to one knee and she shoved her smoldering hand onto the faint runes etched on the floor. Orange light flooded the hall as another burst of fire scorched the floor, obscuring the runes.

With a jerk she broke free and darted down the hall. Adrenalin roared in her ears, fueling her forward, and anger against blood wizards as a whole kept her going despite the tiredness beginning to drag at her limbs. Too much magic in too little time.

The shadows thickened in front of her. She skidded to a halt not five feet from the door, hand shooting out to blast the shade or the spell or whatever the wizard was trying to throw at her. But it was too late. Yellow light snapped into existence behind her, pinning her shadow sharply to the door—not just her shadow, though, because her shadow didn’t have two narrowed gaps where her eyes should have been, showing the brown wood behind it.

Trapped, was her first thought. She was pinned, unable to move, as if she had been frozen in time. Shadows shifted as the wizard approached. His footsteps echoed along the hall. But she was motionless, barely able to even breathe. Even when she tried to push with her magic she found that her mind was sluggish and cold.

The shade grinned. Ambrosia’s mind dully noted that the door gave it brown teeth.

“Careful with that light, Boss,” it said, “the more distinct her shadow the easier it is to paralyze.”

“I’m well aware.” The bounty hunter was faintly proud to hear a deep annoyance grinding at the man’s voice. “How did she get in?”

“If I had a guess, I’d say the door.”

A long silence.

“Er…I mean, sir, I wanted to save as much energy as possible for, you know, the big spell, so I didn’t really spend that much on…”

“You skimmed out on security measures? The spells that keep people from barging in and ruining what we have spent months preparing? Sometimes I wonder why I keep you around.”

“It’s because you can’t use your own—“

“Yes, thank you. I know. Now hold her still…”

There was a faint rustle behind her and she felt a band of paper bind her wrists together. As much as she wanted to jerk her head back and break his nose she still found herself unable to move.

“Ready,” the man said.

Something seemed to spark in the shade’s eyes. The paper tightened on her wrists, digging into her skin, as she felt the tingle of unfamiliar magic running up her arm. Even without seeing the runes she recognized the spell. Her own magic, which she had depended on since she was small, was absorbed into the thin band binding her wrists. Not good, was her only thought.

The light disappeared. No longer bound by the shade’s spell, she felt a sudden surge of energy. It was short lived, however, as a hand roughly grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards. The magic that instinctively leapt to her fingers was absorbed before it could even draw enough mana to work. Her body was lethargic from a long day of magic use and she found herself being dragged along the hallway with little she could do but struggle weakly.

To her surprise she was brought into the rune-covered room and deposited in the corner. The man gave her a stern look that suggested he would take care of her later. She had learned long ago not to think about what her enemies would do to her for revenge; even though she didn’t have the most colorful of imaginations, she could think of plenty of horrible punishments. It wasn’t healthy for her psych.

The man took a small vial from his coat. Its contents glittered a deep red as he tipped his hand and allowed the liquid to pour into the bucket in the center of the room. The runes around it crackled slightly, but there wasn’t enough magic for the spell to activate. That, evidently, was where the shade came in. It skimmed along the runes, dark red sparks leaping from the lines that it touched as the dull red color turned bright and luminous.

She could feel stifling magic filling the room, making the air feel hot and thick. The magic increased, the air growing hotter and thicker, as the shade poured more and more power into the spell. Ambrosia had no idea what the spell did, but she knew that it couldn’t be anything good. She squirmed fruitlessly, trying to free herself from the magic-sucking bonds.

The man was standing over the bucket, eyes glued to it. Behind him, in the corner of the room, was an empty can of red paint. Some of the runes were still wet.

This had gone far enough. Ambrosia took a deep breath; she felt a tightness in her throat, a comforting heat that usually centered itself in her scarred palms. Most of her magic was sucked into the bonds, but she still felt it close around her throat, choking her breath. Her lungs burned as she held it, allowing the magic to build…

She breathed. Fire leaped from her throat and spewed out across the flickering runes. The man jerked back with a shout and the shade screamed. Instantly the spell was broken. Thick magic poured into the air, stifling her breaths as she desperately sucked in oxygen. Her body felt drained and her throat was raw as a butcher’s meat, but she felt more alive than she had all night.

“Idiot!” the man screeched, and she wasn’t sure who he was talking to. All she could think about was how amazed she was that her plan had worked.

“Oh no, oh no,” the shade was whimpering as it circled around the broken runes, where her fire had scorched the ground. “This is bad!”

She was hauled to her feel and shoved roughly against the wall. Her shoulder screamed.

“You’re going to regret that,” the man hissed. In the back of her mind she dimly noted that he had the palest blue eyes she had ever seen.

She opened her mouth for a sharp reply, but her throat burned too much to allow her its use. Instead, she settled for glaring.

“So,” he said, voice suddenly an icy calm, “what’s your story, then? Sent by the Council to stop me?”

“Sir!”

He ignored the shade. Ambrosia felt herself locked into his piercing gaze. “Come now, you can tell me. How did they know I would be here?”

Her mouth opened on its own accord, as if yearning to answer him, but she forced it closed. What’s wrong with me?

A slow smile spread across his face. She tried to look away, but it was impossible—once again, she was trapped. A small spark glowed in his eyes.

In a slow, easy voice he said, “Fine, if you won’t answer me I’ll ask something else. You see, I’m afraid I’m a bit lost. I’ve been looking for something for quite some time, but can’t seem to find it. Surely you’ll be willing to help me, won’t you?”

Ambrosia jerked in her bonds, eyes still trapped.

“See, I’m not the bad guy here. I know it doesn’t look good, but you have to believe me. They forced my hands. That Counsel you serve so dearly gave me no choice but to take measures into my own hands. I’m going to ask you this once, and I want an answer. Alright?”

She was amazed to find herself nodding. Snap out of it!

“Good,” he said in a honey-sweet voice, “Now, I need you to tell me where I can find a dragon’s tooth.”

She stared.

“Come now, I know there’s one in this town. Just tell me where it is and everything will be okay.” His grip tightened on her arm, smile thin and cold.

Ambrosia opened her mouth and croaked through a burning throat, “Bite me.”

His icy smile twisted into a frown. This expression seemed much more at home on his face. Snapped out of his strange hypnotics and feeling a rush of rebellion, she raised her heel and slammed it onto his foot.

With a yelp he shoved her down. Her head hit the wall and she slumped to the ground, mind ringing. Above her the man was screaming, but she couldn’t make out most of the words.

“I want her gone!” she managed to hear him hiss, “I don’t care how, just get rid of her!”

“My magic…”

“I know you’re running out! Do you think I’m an idiot? But this girl has ruined our spell and there’s no way to salvage it until tomorrow at the very least. Just take a spell and get her out of our hair for good.”

With that the door slammed shut.

“Get rid of her,” the shade muttered in a mocking imitation of the man. “Keh, what does he think I am? A butler?”

There was a short, contemplating pause, as if it was flipping through a recipe book, and then the shade said, “Ah, this one will do. Now, hold still…I mean, not that you have much of a choice. Heh, I should be a comedian.”

The shade appeared on the ceiling above, eyes narrowed in concentrated slits. For a moment she could have sworn that the creature paused, eyes widening slightly in hesitation, but then a surge of icy magic flooded her veins and she faded to black.

With her last shred of consciousness she wondered if anyone would ever find her body in this empty town.