Crimson Wind by Francis Diana Pharaoh

Author:Francis, Diana Pharaoh [Francis, Diana Pharaoh]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Withches, Magic, Fantasy fiction, Contemporary, General, Urban Life, Fantasy, Supernatural, Soldiers, Fiction, Good and evil
ISBN: 9781416598152
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2010-12-28T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

MAX APPROACHED THE FATHER OF THE TWO teenage boys, anger sizzling inside her. She didn’t throw innocent people under the bus for any reason. Alexander ought to know that about her, if nothing else.

“Give me your arms.”

The man glowered at her, unmoving. He was probably around forty years old, slim and fit, with brown hair clipped close over the ears. His sons were lanky, with torn jeans and faded T-shirts. One had hair dyed solid black and combed over his eyes, and the older one wore the short bleached tips of his brown hair pushed up in a ridge down the middle of his head. They stood just behind their father, hands jammed into their pockets, looking terrified. Amanda was lying on the ground, unconscious.

“Tell me what the hell is going on,” the father demanded. “Who are you, and what is that?”

He pointed at the nearing curtain of wild magic. It was like the leading edge of a rainstorm, except this rain fell in swirling, twisting clumps and droplets. It was so thick it was difficult to see more than twenty feet or so inside.

How did she tell this ordinary man that it was magic? That fairy tales were true and that he was about to walk into the worst one ever? No happily ever afters, just wild magic that could do just about anything, if Holt was telling the truth. Max didn’t think he was lying. The ground continued to shudder and buckle with the force of what was happening inside the growing magical storm, and what she could see inside the leading edge had lumped and writhed before vanishing behind the fall of crimson.

Still, she had to say something, or they would stand here like idiot deer and get butchered. She scraped her fingers through her hair.

“All right. All of you, listen to me. I’m only going to say this once, and you don’t get to ask questions. We don’t have time. Here’s the nutshell version, and as much as you aren’t going to want to believe it, there’s your proof.”

She pointed at the closing curtain of red. Except it really wasn’t a curtain. The leading edge dropped the red seeds of magic like embers from fireworks. The mist closed in behind it, or rose up from it—Max had no idea.

“What you’re looking at is pure magic straight out of Grimms’ Fairy Tales. This chain should protect you from it. Let go, and you might turn into goblins or trolls or rocks. We’re going to try to lead you to safety. There’s a good chance it won’t extend too far north.”

“Who are you?” Baker asked, staring down at Holt, who was chanting, his hands clasped around the other man’s thigh.

The mage’s hex marks writhed, and coppery light twined around the injured man’s leg.

“I’m Max, that’s Alexander,” she said, pointing to him, “and the man healing your leg is Holt.”

“What are you?” asked the baby’s father, his voice low and breathless.

“We’re what is going to keep you safe, if you let us.

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