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of willpower I possessed to not immediately drag her from the scene.

A single spell would do nothing to her. A string of spells, for that matter, wouldn’t touch her. But this—I didn’t know what this even was. This blend of magic and auras and power looked like an oil spill, only one touch of a candle’s flame away from becoming sheer carnage. Jamie was immune to magical spells, yes, but this wasn’t even a spell. Raw energy morphed in front of my eyes. It had no rhyme or reason, and Jamie’s protections might not even recognize it as magic. Belladonna had warded her against almost every spell known to man, and many an artificial construct as well, but this? There was no predicting this.

Her eyes found mine, and I saw knowledge there, a recognition of what this was, even though she couldn’t see it like I could.

“I shouldn’t go past the ward,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

“No,” I answered, relieved she understood. “No, please don’t. I have no way of predicting if you’re immune to this or not, and I can’t take the chance.”

“How bad does it look to you? I tried looking through the magic specs, but they basically overloaded and whited out on me.”

Ah. That made sense. The spells on the police-issued glasses wouldn’t know how to read or interpret this scene. For that matter, I didn’t either.

“It’s truly terrible. Imagine an oil spill that is residing near an open flame, and that’s akin to what I see in front of me.”

She winced. “Ouch. Okay, we’re going to work on evacuating the immediate area. How far back do I need to pull people?”

“Ten blocks. At least.”

“Ten, I think I can do. Sherard!” She dropped her hand from my shoulder and jogged toward him, no doubt to work on pulling kingsmen and other police officers in to coordinate the evacuation and get people out of range quickly.

I left her to it, as she was best suited to doing that portion of the work. Myself, I had this mess to deal with.

“Henri.” Colette waved to the building ahead of us, her expression a little lost. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I’m not sure we can until Jere gets here. Honestly, we don’t have enough bags to contain all of this. And even with a royal mage here, the amount of cleanup is just…too much for the three of us.”

She nodded in agreement but not in relief. “Yes, I’m not saying otherwise, but…I think protection hexes on our skin would be best. Even protective clothing isn’t enough here.”

A very excellent suggestion. I did keep coveralls in one of my bags for situations…not like this, not on this scale, but where magic had gone wild. But she was correct—they didn’t fully cover my hands, my head, or my feet, and we needed full protection here.

“I can draw a hex on you, if you would return the favor?”

“Chest,” she directed. “Or back of the neck.”

“Back of the neck, less likely to have something smudge up against it.”

“Oh, good thought.” She immediately retreated back to the car, fetching her own bag.

I did likewise. We needed to get in there and assess the full damage so we’d know what kind of help to call in to mitigate damage and set things back to rights.

I had Colette’s hex drawn onto her skin and she was working on mine when Seaton joined us. He looked over the design and gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Excellent idea. Me next, if you would, dear lady.”

“Sure,” Colette agreed easily. But her tone was worried. “We’ve got our friend Jere coming in. He’s the one who creates protective boxes for grimoires.”

“I’m aware of him. Excellent craftsman, or so I understand, and I’m relieved he’s coming. I’ve made my own calls, and I have a dozen kingsmen heading this direction. Six to aid Jamie and her ducklings in evacuation, the other six with us.”

I did not think nine people sufficient for the task. “Just them?”

“No, we’re drawing on the local police station as well. While waiting on your arrival, I notified them and gave instructions, so they’re gearing up as well and should be here momentarily. I’m sending in uniforms to spread the word, ordering an evacuation of fifteen blocks’ circumference around this building.”

So, he was choosing to be even more cautious. I couldn’t say I blamed him. And thank anything you care to name that a royal mage had the power to call a radio station and issue those kinds of orders without argument.

Time. Time was very much not on our side at the moment. This situation would not improve with age. It would only get worse, and we’d suffer the longer we were in there.

“Hello, all,” said a voice I knew well.

I couldn’t look up—Colette would smack me for ruining her handiwork—but I knew who was approaching, and I was grateful Gibson was on scene. He was a man who knew how to get the work done without panicking in the process.

“Gibson, you made excellent time,” Seaton greeted him. “Let me catch you up. We’re applying protective hexes directly to the skin for full coverage. A friend of these two is coming to help, and he specializes in crafting protective boxes for grimoires. We’re evacuating everyone within fifteen blocks of this area. Who all did you bring with you?”

“Usual suspects. We’ve got Marshall, Lansing, Rembar, Jonestone, and Baker.”

“Excellent, their magic is up to par for this.”

Colette finished and gave me a tap on the shoulder. “Done. Sherard, sit down.”

I changed places with Seaton, letting him sit sideways in the car to give Colette access to the back of his neck. It was a relief to be able to lift my head again, even if the view wasn’t one I wished to see.

Gibson offered a hand, and I shook it. “Very glad you’re here.”

Then I offered a hand to the rest, greeting the other kingsmen who were still staring at the building in jaw-dropped astonishment.

With Colette busy, I

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