City of Spells (Into the Crooked Place #2) - Alexandra Christo Page 0,3
bit much. Luckily, I have a Plan B.”
Tavia took a step back—because she was not about to let this amateur snatch her weapon—and reached into her pocket with her free hand, keeping her eyes on Nolan to make sure he didn’t try anything. Tavia was still as alert and quick as Wesley had taught her to be.
She may have spent the last week in a forest, but she wasn’t rusty enough to let her guard down.
“A Plan B,” Nolan repeated. “To shooting me?”
“A girl has to have her options,” she said.
She squeezed the charm in her fingers, letting the magic wash over her with a familiar warmth. At first, it felt like it was pulling at her insides, tugging the skin from her bones and the nails from her fingertips. Her hands shook, her joints locked, and Tavia’s eyes flickered until all she could see was pure, blinding white.
When the realms finally shifted back into color, Tavia was not alone.
She was surrounded by six more versions of herself.
All the Tavias stood with their black hair carving across their chins, gray eyes daring as they pulled knives from their pockets and guns from their belts and ran fingers over brightly polished knuckle dusters.
They circled Nolan with that same slow smile.
Tavia could feel them each at the corners of her mind, taking a small piece of her for themselves. She didn’t need to think about what she wanted them to do because they were already inside her mind, predicting her actions and readying to do what she needed.
Duplicate charms were a real party and just the latest in a line of new magic the Crafters in their camp had created.
Tavia could get used to the power amp.
“Guess you’re outnumbered now,” Tavia said. “And maybe I couldn’t take you alone in a fight, but I bet the seven of us could kick the crap out of you no problem.”
Nolan’s eyes were wide, his voice breathy with disbelief. “What in the name of the Many Gods is this?”
“Magic,” Tavia said.
And with enough force to make even Karam crack a smile, she hit Nolan square across the jaw.
He went down in an instant, his backpack dropping onto the ground beside him.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he said, clutching his jaw. “My underboss taught me how to—”
“Let me tell you about my underboss,” Tavia said.
She knelt down beside him and her many selves smiled onward in encouragement.
“His name was Wesley Thornton Walcott, and do you want to know what he taught me?”
Nolan flinched.
It was enough of an answer. Wesley’s name was legend in the realm and synonymous with awful things Tavia preferred not to think about.
She snatched Nolan’s backpack from the ground and stood.
“This is the part where I thank you for your donation to our war effort,” Tavia said, tapping the backpack just like Nolan had. “All the tricks and charms of Rishiya. All the magic I could ever hope for. What a steal.”
“Laugh all you want for now,” Nolan said. “But when the Kingpin tears apart your city and burns everyone in it, I’ll be there. I’ll be by his side with the loyal buskers, and not even your big bad underboss will be able to stop the fire-gates from raining down on you and everyone you love.”
Tavia swallowed.
She didn’t want his words to hit close to home, but they did.
Dante Ashwood was already attacking districts within Creije and ripping apart everything about the city that Tavia had fallen in love with.
It was her home.
Wesley’s home.
And right now she was powerless to save it.
Without her ruthless underboss to lead the buskers, Tavia was the only one left to fill the shoes of leadership among the crooks they had gathered, and yet she couldn’t even put a bullet in a guy like Nolan.
Wesley wouldn’t have hesitated. He wouldn’t have stopped to chat and trade blows.
“Save your breath,” Tavia said, trying to paint on her old smile. “You’re going to need it for the long walk back to your underboss. I doubt he’ll be happy that you got boosted on your own territory. Looks like you’re in for a heap of trouble from dear old Casim.”
She hitched the backpack onto her shoulder and turned from Nolan, her many selves following the action in a perfect reflection.
Only, there were now a dozen Rishiyat buskers standing in front of her, armed to the teeth with magic and guns. And not a one of them looked happy to see her.