The moment Julius saw it, instinct took over completely. He rolled without thinking, whirling with obviously inhuman speed as he dropped them back to the ground. Just in time, too. They’d barely hit the dirt before the next shot shattered the passenger window, cutting through the stuffing of the driver’s seat to lodge in the steel frame of the front wheel well not a half inch from Julius’s shoulder.
By this point, Marci had recovered from her shock enough to realize what was happening. The stifled whiff of the second silenced shot was still fading when she grabbed Julius’s hand and took off for the house, dragging him behind her as a third shot whizzed over their heads to blast a chunk off the sagging mansion’s brick foundation.
Marci jumped down the basement stairs and hit the ward on the rickety old door with both hands. The magic flashed, and then the basement door flew open as they both ran inside. As soon as they were over the threshold, the ward snapped back into place, covering the doorway in a glowing barrier while the door itself hung open, listing on its rusty hinges. Since the wood was half rotted anyway, Julius didn’t even bother kicking it shut. He simply spun to the side and slammed his back against the bare stretch of wall between the open door and the wardrobe in the corner. Marci followed suit, plastering herself against the house’s foundation as she gasped for breath.
“What is going on?” she panted.
“Not sure,” Julius said, arching his neck back in an attempt to look through one of the little ground-level windows that pierced the wall above them. “I think—”
What he thought was cut off by an explosion of gunfire. Apparently, whoever was attacking had completely given up on subtlety. Bullets began hitting the house like hail, shattering the window above their heads and shredding the basement door to splinters.
“I thought this place was warded!” Julius cried, pressing himself even tighter against the brick wall as bullets flew through the empty doorway to land in the piles of trash that filled the far end of the basement.
“Against living things!” Marci yelled back, covering her head with her arms. “Not bullets! Why would I ward against bullets?”
As though in answer, a second rain of shots came in from the side of the house, shattering the single ground-level window on their left. But while the bullets were quickly making powder of Marci’s couch and mini-fridge, nothing hit them, and Julius realized that they’d taken refuge in the one spot that wasn’t in line of sight for any of the basement windows. Before he could celebrate this fantastic stroke of good luck, though, someone outside yelled an order, and the gunfire stopped.
In the sudden silence, Julius could hear heavy shoes rustling through the undergrowth as their attackers checked the windows. One man even walked down to the door to push on the ward and got zapped for his trouble. Marci looked a little smug about that, but it didn’t last long, because while the ward kept the enemy out, it also kept the two of them in.
“Is there another exit?”
Marci nodded and pointed at the sea of trash that filled the non-warded half of the basement. “There’s a stairway up to the main house somewhere over there.”
Julius grimaced. Even if they could battle their way through all the debris, they’d expose their backs to the open door. Not a valid option. “What did you do to Bixby, anyway?” he grumbled, leaning out as far as he dared in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the driveway.
“Oh, no, this can’t be Bixby,” she said, shaking her head frantically. “I mean, yeah, he wants me dead, but there’s no way he’d send an army like this all the way to Det—”
“Novalli!”
Marci froze, her eyes going wider with stark, naked terror as the deep, booming voice bellowed her name. “Come on out, sweetheart,” the man continued. “We’ve got you surrounded, and this time we know you’re in there. Don’t make us torch the place.”
Marci threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut as she mouthed a string of silent curses.
“Do you know that guy?”
“It’s Oslo. He’s Bixby’s freaking second. What is he doing up here?”
Julius had no idea, but at least that answered the Bixby question. “See if you can stall them,” he whispered, pulling out his phone.
“Why?” Marci whispered back. “What are you doing?”
“Calling the cops. They’ll run when they hear sirens.” And so would he and Marci, but she was already shaking her head.
“That won’t do any good. This is the DFZ, remember? The police are all contractors. Even if we paid their fees in advance, it would take a riot to get them to take a job this close to the Reclamation Zone.”
Julius rolled his eyes. Of course. Why should he expect anything else from this capitalist dystopia of a city? He supposed he could call Justin, but his brother would have to fly to get out here fast enough to save them, and there was no way anyone could miss a dragon flying over the DFZ during the day. With his brother out of the picture, though, Julius was rapidly running out of ideas, and Oslo seemed to be running out of patience.
“Last chance, Novalli!” Bixby’s second yelled. “The boss gave orders that you weren’t to be killed, but he didn’t say anything about you not being shot. We even brought along a medic, just in case. Of course, that means we can be as rough as we want and you’ll still pull through, and my boys and I are mighty pissed about having to come all this way on short notice. So if you want to keep your limbs intact, you should stop wasting my time and get out here now.”
The color had completely drained from Marci’s face by the time he finished, but her jaw was set as stubbornly as ever. “You’re pissed?” she shouted at the open door. “I’m pissed you idiots can’t take a hint and shove off! But feel free to keep yelling at my ward. I’ve already called the cops. We should be hearing helicopters any second!”
Julius stared questioningly at her, and Marci shrugged. “What? If you didn’t know, they might not either.”
Oslo, however, did not seem to take the threat the way it was intended, because his reply was, “Break it down.”
The order had barely finished when the glowing wall of Marci’s ward flashed bright as the sun. Marci gasped at the same time, doubling over like someone had just punched her in the gut. “They have a mage,” she whispered through clenched teeth when Julius reached out to steady her. “They’re going to brute force the ward.”
He grimaced. “How long have we got?”
“Don’t know,” she said, her face pained. “Whoever they hired has some serious weight behind him. Bastard must be pulling off a small fortune in magical materials.” Another blow landed, making Marci’s whole body clench so hard it took her several seconds before she could speak again. “If I keep holding it up like this, I’d say two, maybe three minutes?”
Julius shook his head. Even if he’d had a plan, three minutes wouldn’t be enough to pull it off. His eyes darted over the trash, looking for something he could use when the time came—a gun, a shovel, even a baseball bat would be better than nothing. He was debating the weapon potential of the rusty rake in the corner when he felt something soft and freezing cold brush against his leg.
He looked down with a start to see Ghost sitting beside him, twitching his semi-transparent tail back and forth across the glass-strewn cement floor. Considering their situation, the sight of a death spirit, even one for cats, was enough to thoroughly creep Julius out. Marci, however, looked delighted.