Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Both of my cousins leaned forward, focused on the screen. So did Arabella. For a moment she’d forgotten Linus. Her eyes tracked the two combatants on the screen. There was something slightly predatory in the way she watched them, like a cat watching two other cats fight.
Connor leaped back and launched a low kick that grazed Augustine’s thigh. Augustine danced back. His eyes lit up. His lips stretched in a smile. “Ow.”
Connor attacked, his arm snapping out like a sledgehammer. Augustine parried, crossing his arms, drove a front kick into Connor’s left thigh, and took a vicious jab to the arm for his trouble. They danced across the gym floor, kicking, punching, and growling. It was both beautiful and terrifying to watch.
On-screen, Augustine leaped. His right leg shot out like a swinging baseball bat, aiming for Connor’s head. At the last moment, Connor sidestepped, grabbed Augustine’s leg, and jerked him down. They rolled on the mat.
“Nice,” Bern said.
Connor locked Augustine into a half nelson for half a second. Augustine twisted his face away and rolled, landing on top of Connor. Connor bridged, throwing Augustine off, and hammered a punch to Augustine’s ear. Augustine snarled and kneed Connor in the face.
The mood shifted. They were playing before, aiming kicks and punches where it wouldn’t cause lasting damage. The gloves just came off. This was no longer a sparring session. This was a fight.
The view moved, bobbing closer.
“All right,” the invisible De Silva called. “On your feet. You’re done.”
They ignored him, trying to outmuscle each other.
Something hissed and flame retardant foam shot over them.
The two combatants broke apart.
“What the fuck, Thushan?” Augustine snarled.
“You should thank him. You’re shit on the mat.” Connor wiped the blood from his nose and flung it in Augustine’s direction.
“Fuck you too.”
Augustine rolled to his feet. He was muscled like a gymnast. His face blurred, and he was back to a younger version of the Augustine we knew, elegant, lean, and glacial.
The video stopped.
Augustine had scammed us. When we had listed his attributes, the first thing on that list should’ve been “a trained killer.”
I looked at Bern. “If you had to . . .”
He shook his head. “He’d kill me.”
“Augustine Montgomery is a highly capable martial artist,” Alessandro said. “Most high caliber illusion mages are. They assume other people’s identities and enter dangerous situations, usually to gather information or to kill their target. Primes like Augustine can obscure their movements in a fight. He didn’t do that here, but if it was a real fight, and he had a knife . . .”
“Connor would still beat Augustine’s ass,” Leon said.
My younger cousin had become a shameless Mad Rogan fanboy in middle school, and he never outgrew it. As far as Leon was concerned, Connor walked on water and ate enemy tanks for breakfast.
“He blurs,” Connor said. “You think his hand is in one place, and then there is a knife pressed against your ribs, and you didn’t see it get there. I wouldn’t fight him hand to hand. I’d kill him from a distance. But Augustine will never do anything to hurt anyone in this room.”
“Did you know?” I asked Nevada.
She nodded. “They spar sometimes.”
“And you didn’t tell us, why?” Mom asked.
Nevada looked sheepish. It almost never happened. “It didn’t occur to me. Like Connor said, he isn’t a threat. Connor and he had a moment a few years ago. It realigned Augustine’s worldview.”
“Trust me,” Connor said. “All of his veiled threats and scary promises are bullshit. He is a friend.”
“Could have fooled me,” Mom said, her voice flat.
Connor grimaced. “He has issues.”
“Konstantin Berezin can do everything Augustine can do and probably more,” Alessandro said. “If you encounter him, treat him like a cobra. Try to stay out of striking range. He kills quickly and without hesitation.”
“Agreed,” Patricia said. “A cornered illusion mage can be a very challenging opponent.”
In my mind, once an illusion mage was discovered, they were somehow rendered powerless. Clearly, that would be a deadly mistake to make. Being told Konstantin was lethal was one thing. Watching Augustine, whom we had all dismissed as a noncombatant, turn into a murder machine wasn’t something I would forget.
“Obviously, Konstantin complicates matters,” I said. “But our main priority is still protecting Linus and solving the Speaker’s murder.”
“On that note,” Nevada said. “We have some lousy news.”
“PAC?” Bern asked.
Connor looked like he’d bitten into a rotten apple. “We’ll handle it.”
Principal Action Consulting, or the PAC as they called themselves, recently became a very sharp thorn in House Rogan’s side. Just like Connor, they offered a private army for hire and, just like Connor’s army, they were led by a powerful Prime, Matthew Berry, a tagger. Taggers marked a spot in a structure and then saturated it with arcane energy until it exploded. Matthew was a one-man artillery battery.
The PAC was started by Matthew’s father. Back then it had been called the Black Hurricane, and after Connor erupted onto the military scene, people kept asking them if Mad Rogan and their outfit were somehow involved. The father and son duo got tired of it and changed the name.