…..CHAPTER 2…..
Isaac stared out over the familiar yet surreal grounds of the Kipling estate. He remembered the location of most things, but considering he hadn’t been here in years, he wouldn’t put it past that old fart to have changed things.
Running through the brush at the back of the land, he managed to stay hidden. It had become very overgrown. He took advantage of it. With so much cover, he made it almost to the catchment building before running out of brush. No such luck getting all the way to the building, which lurked thirty feet inside the fence, with nothing around it but solid concrete.
Steam rose from the stacks at the back of the catchment. Meters ground loudly with gears that needed to be replaced probably a century ago, back when technology depended only on steam for power.
Anger twisted inside. Still going strong, in there. Business as usual. Old man Kipling hadn’t missed a fucking beat. Isaac was more familiar with this particular catchment. It was on the Kipling family grounds, and not the one he’d escaped from. That’d been a neat trick.
Isaac could feel the high voltage of the fence and smiled grimly. Did Kipling forget his power was Fire? And electricity was under the umbrella of Fire magic. In fact, the Aspect of Fire he worked best with was Electricity.
Isaac drew a deep breath, drew on the magic around him to bolster the magic he already had inside. Narrowing his eyes, he focused on a spot on the fence, lifted his hand, and sent a powerful jolt into the fence. It was too far away, but he could almost hear the breaker pop. Instantly the fence lost its power.
Isaac scrambled up and over as fast as he could, knowing security would correct the lack of electricity in the fence as soon as they discovered it.
Isaac glanced at the grounds. No shout or alarm had risen. His brows drew together. Why? Granted, it might take a few minutes to hear the hue and cry…
He listened, heard nothing but nature around him. The distant sound of vehicles approaching on the road outside the estate—but it was a small highway. That wasn’t anything unusual. But something was happening. He could feel it.
Isaac considered scratching his mission, but didn’t want to give this up. He’d been waiting for this chance for two months. Who knew when he’d get it again?
Firming his resolve, Isaac gave the grounds a sweeping glance, then dashed the twenty yards to the back of the metal-sided building.
The metal ladder was noisy as he climbed to the roof. He knew in a general sense where he was going, but he didn’t exactly have a blueprint.
Sound reached him, gunshots and the sounds of yelling. “FBI!” “Federal Bureau of Witchcraft and Registry!” “ATF!”
What the hell? Isaac stopped, crouched low behind the nearest mechanical unit, probably an air conditioner. He watched as much as he could for a moment, which was nothing, since his line of sight with the front of the house was off. A squad of agents had spread out over the backyard and veranda. “Oh now they decide to do shit? Right when I’m… Oh, for the love of…” he whispered.
The presence of the government didn’t end the necessity of his actions. In fact it just made his mission more important and more urgent. He had to get these witches out of here.
Isaac cast about for the roof hatch. He’d thought about just going through the front when no one was looking, but that was stupid. No way the place wasn’t watched 24/7. Then he’d considered a window, but there were only a few, and they were in offices likely to be occupied all the time. The catchment was never not busy.
Isaac shook his head, located the damn hatch finally, and listened closely for anyone below. No sound, and his sense of body-heat was clear. No one in the room. He gently pulled on the door, but it was locked. He wasn’t surprised, but damn. Isaac closed his eyes, focusing on the door, mind seeking. With the lock in his mind’s eye, he burned the inner mechanism of the lock. It snapped audibly. He listening one more time, then lifted the door, climbed down the metal rungs and pulled the hatch closed. Then he slid down the outside of the ladder to the floor, landing lightly. What memory he had of this place as a child was dim at best, but he turned his face in the direction of the catchment room, sensing the abundance of magic.
Voices approaching, the sound of running steps, had him ducking into a closet of office supplies.
“…the fucking government, man…” one man whined to another as they dashed into the room to collect weapons.
“I know, but we knew this was coming, and as long as we keep our shit together, we’ll be alright. The government was always going to pull this. Now grab that ammo!”
The two men scrounged in the room. Sounds of guns being frantically loaded came to Isaac. That and his own racing heartbeat.
For several moments there was quiet and he risked a peek, saw one of them drawing a sheathed knife from a desk and tucking it in his waistband while the other stared out the window toward the house. Then they dashed from the room and down the hall.
He’d only made it a few feet along the corridor before he heard someone coming. With a silent curse, he slipped into another barren room.
Voice raised in alarm, feet running this way…
“Shit,” he whispered. His mission was in danger, and likely so was he. He couldn’t even get away right now.
So. Forward then. He glanced around, looking for a place to hide if he needed it again, but his eye caught on the open venting system. The grate had been set aside, and this room was clearly utility in nature, with repairs or maintenance in progress The vent was huge, and it would have to be, to handle so many witches.
He grinned. Thank god I’m a skinny dude.
Isaac stepped up to the vent, considered trying to close it behind him, but knew it was open for a reason, so closing it would just draw more attention.
Isaac was vaguely surprised how noisy the aluminum vent was. Only with effort and judicious use of his magic to help the metal mold to his movements without noise did he get through the system, somehow managing to get up the pipework to the ducting parallel to the floor.
Shit. Which way? The branch to the left was dark and sounded dull. The one to the right…sounded like it went further? Yay, for sound waves? He’d never had to use waves this way before, but hey… He turned right.
Isaac saw it ahead. In the distance, a turn to the left, with loads of light coming from that direction. And he could hear the sounds of the witches, felt their magic…
Scuttling along, Isaac made the left turn, careful not to put pressure on the occasional vents.
He almost leaped from his skin when gunshots came from below, shouts and screams. Fuck! It’ll be just my luck to get shot in a duct system!
A vent in the floor ahead shone—sunlight?—through and he eased himself forward, peered down, vision disrupted by the metal bars of the vent.
In the hallway below stood a witch, green-gleaming hands moving fast in spells he couldn’t begin to comprehend. The hail of bullets that sought his life the instant he was exposed—stopped midair. Isaac craned his head to look toward the other side, saw mobsters with guns. His gaze flicked back to the witch, chills on his spine.
One hand extended palm out, the other a few inches behind, he reversed them so fast Isaac didn’t see it—then the bullets returned to sender.
Most of the shooters took their own bullets. Only three were left, and the witch wasn’t done. His hands swiveled around, palms facing him, and he clenched his fists, then made a snapping gesture.
The three remaining gun barrels, including the one pistol, all bent nearly in half.
It took a very powerful witch to make such delicate discrimination. Any other witch would’ve bent all the barrels, even the ones of those who were dead, and those of his allies.
Isaac swallowed hard. Wow. Let’s not piss off the most powerful Earth witch I’ve ever seen.
He hurried along, taking a risk in using more magic to keep the vent from thundering with every movement, hoping this man wouldn’t sense his magic.
He squirmed around the tight corner, hurrying.
The huge vent he reached was the end-of-the-line. Looking through the slats, he saw the catchment room. “Hell yeah,” he whispered. And there weren’t any of Kipling’s goons in here either. Even better. “Bout time my luck changed,” he breathed.
Isaac slammed the vent cover from the hole and it dropped to the floor below. Still screaming and gunfire out there somewhere, though not in the hall outside. He lowered himself from the vent, holding on to the edge, which dug painfully into his fingers, on the verge of cutting him. Dropping to the floor was still a hard jolt for his legs, and only rolling kept himself from injury.
Isaac leaped for the control board in the middle of the room. He ignored the realization that it was in a different place than he remembered. A lot of the witches were watching him with wide eyes. He gave them an absent smile of reassurance as he studied the board for a moment. Yeah, doors and all-doors, power dump, verge controls, what the hell is a crystallic drive? And where the fuck is the tether release?
The sounds of gunfire had stopped. He heard someone yell to put their hands up.
God, I’m out of time! Where is the fucking tether release?
Isaac found it and slapped the button.
Instantly the whole catchment flooded with alarms and red lights, and their magic flashed as the tethers on each wrist stopped pulling from the witches, and then dropped from their cuffs.
He lifted his eyes to the side of the catchment room that he knew lined the outside wall. Staring hard at the back wall of one of the cells, he focused, hand wove once, narrowed eyes… The metal wall outside the building melted like ice in his power, and then the interior stone. “Get away from the back wall!” he hissed to the witch, who stood staring at the odd senses from his cell. Definitely not a Fire witch. He backed away, wild eyes moving from Isaac to the wall.
Isaac returned his focus to the control board, frantically trying to find it…
The metal doors to the catchment room suddenly shrieked and he yelped in shock. Whirling to the door, he saw the metal deforming, the lock suddenly spark. It happened so fast, the metal shifting and moving as if a wild creature were inside it trying to break through the metal.
Nope. Not wild. That was a Tame witch if ever there was one.
He whirled, searching again. Where…where… The all-doors. I just saw it. I just saw it!
All-doors…
The catchment doors slammed inward, he whipped around, one hand hovering over the board, the other lifted with his magic, gleaming red in preparation to fight.
The Earth witch stood there, hands extended before him. The surprise on his face would’ve been funny if Isaac didn’t have a job to do.
Isaac slapped the button.
Every cell door in the place clanked and opened.
“Out!” he yelled, pointing at the cell that now had an opening to the outside.
He was surprised so many obeyed. But their shock at the escape attempt had already waned as they watched him. Now—thank god—they moved.
Isaac faced the Earth witch, who watched the thralls for a moment, then turned cool eyes to face him, his hands still gleaming green. Then his mouth flattened with anger. “They need help! Turning them loose it a disaster!”
“Oh, they’ll get help,” Isaac laughed wildly, lifting his own hands to fight if he had to.
“Oliver?” a man demanded behind the witch. Probably his human leash.
“Stay back,” the Earth witch warned as he stepped into the catchment room.
He rather expected the Earth witch to tell his Handler they were escaping, but he didn’t. Instead he took another step in, made a sharp gesture, and the metal door slammed closed over the cell.
Only about a quarter of the witches had gotten out.
Isaac glared at him, focusing his magic on the cell door, the metal melting. One woman reached for the door, desperate to get out, shooting a look over her shoulder at the government in the doorway. She touched the melting metal.
Her scream shocked Isaac, and he whipped around.
The Earth witch shot out his hand, made an odd scooping gesture. Isaac saw metal fly away from her hand, then the bars were darkening as the metal cooled rapidly. Isaac had lost his concentration. With a sharp jab of his magic, the whole door collapsed like slime. “Jump over the slag!” he snapped.
The Earth witch, still yards away, couldn’t keep up with him as Isaac leaped for the cell, shoving witches in front of him. He turned to face the tame witch, flashing a wall of Fire at the man, who waved it aside like it was an annoying gnat.
Fuck! He’s too powerful!
Panic set in. Holy shit, please don’t let him be a ten!
His next wave of fire was equally dismissed, and Isaac whirled, the escaping witches in front of him running for all they were worth. Which wasn’t much, after who knows how long of being drained.
Isaac didn’t look back. The instant he was outside the building, he shot a fireball at the distant fence. Thanking god for the familiar faces of his friends outside the fence, the panic calmed somewhat. The metal rails of the fence had burst, his friends peeled them back, and the gathered witches leaped through, his friends shoving them into the back of the transport. He turned, shoving two more witches that were following behind. He faced the Earth witch that had followed, still ready to fight.
But the man wasn’t fighting. His eyes were narrow, taking in their little mission with cool eyes. He hesitated, lowering his glowing hands and glaring furiously at Isaac, hands clenching.
No.
One finger made a tiny little motion.
He’d motioned for him to go.
Isaac didn’t have to be told twice.
He glared back, turned, and ran.