Lord of Unkindness Ch. 11

 Notes: It's all fun and games until someone loses a familiar...

Title: Lord of Unkindness: Chapter Eleven

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Chapter Eleven

 

Run.

It’s a searing rhythm in his brain, flooding out into every limb and driving him beyond what his normal body could bear. Ciro is running for more than just his freedom; he’s running for his life. He’s not sure what he’s done to his uncle or how permanent it is, but he does know one thing for sure: Magnus didn’t come alone. His escort might not be witches, but—

Bang bang bang! Three rubber bullets impact the broken brick wall of the apartment building just a half-step behind Ciro. Ahead of him, a cannister strikes the ground, a miasma of chemicals rising from it. Knockout gas? Whatever it is, he knows it’ll fuck him up. But Ciro isn’t helpless now. His magic is in the air all around him, and he throws a wind forward that blows the cannister, and its gas, back toward the person who tossed it into his path in the first place. He turns the corner to the sound of shouts, and as soon as he’s out of sight he spreads a raven thin and wide, transforming into a veil of shadow between him and his pursuers. It’s probably unnecessary, given how dark it is around here and the fact that they’re mundane, but he’s got to play it safe.

Ciro hears a coughing growl behind him, and the power of the veil is wiped away a second later by someone else’s familiar. Fuck, so much for safe. He doesn’t look back, just uses his magic to go even faster. He might be able to outrun a familiar. He’s down to five birds—none of the rest are close enough to save him now, and he can’t risk squandering his magic.

“Ciro! Stop!” The voice is deep and very familiar—Magnus’s personal bodyguard, Richard. He’s not a Hambly; Ciro and his family aren’t the best equipped for combat, despite the number of familiars they have at their disposal. Their magic is designed to be a network, a bunch of moving pieces that connect to each other and create an inescapable web. For one-on-one damage, though, you want a proper battle witch.

Richard is one of the best out there. His familiar is a cougar, bigger and leaner than any wild animal and the sort of beast that sends people running the second they see it. He’s trained hard to learn to suppress a witch’s magic with it—he’s ruthless about killing off familiars, which generally sends the witch they belong to into a mental and magical breakdown. It’s different for Ciro because he’s got multiple familiars, but it never feels nice to lose them to violence.

But violence has found them, and Ciro can only think of one way out of this. He sends one of his ravens winging ahead to search for just the right thing and takes stock of what he’s got left. Four birds…he’s got to last for four birds.

“Ciro, don’t make it worse for yourself!”

Richard isn’t falling behind. He’s two decades older than Ciro but fit, the kind of fit that made Ciro first question his sexuality when he was young. Richard was always too intimidating to crush on, though.

“One more block and I’m going to start breaking bones when I catch you, you little bitch.”

Case in point. Ciro refuses to stop, though. His magic is out there, he just needs to give it time to work. He runs, his breaths jagged in his ear and chest, and lets one of his familiars fall back. It transforms into an oily rain, slicking the ground and thickening the cougar’s coat, making every pace it takes feel like its paws are covered in slime. Richard slips and falls with a thud, and for a second as Ciro hears him curse he thinks that he might have already done it. One good trick might be enough to put his latest problem behind him.

“That’s your left arm!”

Nope.

Ciro glances back and is dismayed when he can’t see the cougar. He uses his familiars eyes to search, circling around him, and sees that the big cat diverted around the oil spill and is coming around the warehouse he’s running beside, fast. It’s going to beat him to the intersection up ahead at this rate, and he can’t have that. He needs to break left anyway, according to his roving magic. He sends one of his birds ahead to act as a more direct deterrent, dive-bombing the cougar and transforming into a feathery net at the very end of the fall, using its inherent magic to twine the familiar up and hold it for as long as possible.

Ciro breaks right, but he stumbled as he feels his bird rent to pieces in what feels like no more than a second. It’s been a long time since he trained with a bodyguard like Richard, who’s used to dueling the most vicious and powerful familiars in the world. Of course his cougar can make mincemeat of Ciro’s magic. He’s lucky it slowed the beast down for as long as it did, but the loss hurts nonetheless.

“That’s your right arm, Ciro! Don’t make me move on to your legs.”

“Fuck off!” he shouts back, panting. “Just leave me alone!” He’s got to get across the overpass up here, just a little farther. Once he’s done that he’ll be in a more defensible position, and with the cover from the sharp turn and the tall building on the left he won’t telegraph what he hopes happens next.

“I can’t do that, Ciro.” Richard is getting closer, his cougar pulling up next to him. They’re being cautious now—not as cautious as Ciro would like, though. “Your uncle told me to make sure you came back home with him, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Just another minute. He can feel his magic coming back to him. Hold him off, make him cautious, separate them. Ciro stops, then whirls around and does what is, admittedly, a stupid party trick. It’s like the shadow blade from earlier, except he turns one of his final birds into a whole fistful of them out in front of him, circling in the air like the barrels of a gatling gun, each one ready to fire. The other one flies up higher and dissipates into what seems like nothing at all, and a quiet descends over Ciro.

Richard and his cougar come to a stop on the far side of the street, still cautious…but Ciro can tell from the look on the man’s face that he won’t be delayed for long.

“Your family only wants what’s best for you,” Richard tells him. He’s got gray in his beard now, but his shoulders are still broad and strong. He’s got at least half a foot on Ciro, and his cougar’s fangs are as long as Ciro’s hand. “Come on, Ciro. Come back without any fuss, huh? Your uncle might still put in a good word for you with your dad.”

Ciro starts to laugh. He’s incredibly out of breath, his whole body is blazing with fatigue and he’s seeing spots dance in front of his eyes, but he can’t help himself. “My…uncle…” he manages to get out before he’s got to take a break.

“Magnus is a reasonable man. You just need to—”

“My uncle…might never…speak…again.”

The cougar goes completely still, a mirror of its master. “What.”

“He attacked me…with his roaches,” Ciro says, straightening his spine. His magic is incoming, so close, but maybe not close enough. If this is when he goes down, then he’s going to go down fighting, not cringing like a frightened fledgling. “He was really excited about it,” he taunts. “So excited he forgot to shield. So I sent my magic straight into his brain. Magnus will be lucky if he can wipe his own ass after this, much less remember your name.”

“Forget your arms,” Richard says, his whole body stiff with fury. “I’m going to break your fucking back for this.” He and his cougar begin to run forward together, which isn’t in the plan.

Ciro does three things at once. He turns the circling blades into hammer strikes and launches them at Richard, knocking him back onto the sidewalk. He banishes the magic that had absorbed all sound outside the thirty-foot radius between him and Richard. Lastly, he makes the driver of the Ford F-150 who his raven is possessing step on the gas, and a split-second later it screams by just in time to clip the cougar’s rear flank barely a body-length before it reaches Ciro. It spins away across the pavement with a scream of pain, and Ciro runs for the truck, praying that Richard’s dedication to his familiar is strong enough to keep him from coming for Ciro instead. He makes the blank-eyed driver get out, slams his foot on the gas pedal, and only closes the door once he’s a block and a half away.

He doesn’t look back. He knows he won’t like what he sees if he does.

Ciro’s hands are completely numb, but that’s a problem for later. Escaping somewhere his family can’t immediately find him is his problem for now. Luckily, he’s got a spot in mind that will repel anyone but the most dedicated locals.