A never-ending stream of profanity ran through my mind as I watched the fleeing man gain ground. He was out of the effective range for and with this distance, it was unlikely I’d hit him. If the mages could hold on for just a little longer—

I lost the trail of thought as Astria slipped, her face drifting perilously close to the road as consciousness nearly left her. Astrid, seeing her sister falter, fought harder.

Damn it.

Still, I wasn’t ready to let one of the suits go so easily. Firing with my injured hand was a no-go, so I held my crossbow in my off-hand, sighting it awkwardly, aiming once again for center mass and casting on the bolt.

There was a thwip and the bolt flew through the air. It was more than a little off, spiraling through the air before an errant breeze corrected its flight, sending it spinning back towards the fleeing man.

It almost looked like it would hit.

But wasn’t a win button. It could tweak accuracy, ensure small variables worked out in my favor if it was used normally, larger variables if it was overcharged. Unfortunately, there wasn’t that much it could do when it came to being out of range. The bolt plummeted before it hit Pat, threading the needle between his sprinting legs and clattering off the asphalt.

There wasn’t a version of this where I could help the mages and catch this bastard.

Everything in me, from the depths of my gut to the growing pressure in my chest, screamed for me to chase him. To cut him down before he summoned a vehicle and escaped. I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything else.

Why?

I grimaced as my title asked the question. There was a rational reason to chase down Pat. I’d used both the and the in our brief altercation.

He saw someone wearing the Allfather’s mask. It was a brief encounter, so whatever he saw likely looked thoroughly different from me, with no alterations in appearance apart from what Miles had observed. The hand crossbow and the knife would be a problem if they were exotic or distinguishable—but Bean-Counter and Daphne didn’t take them out of my inventory, just cataloged their rarity and effects. It stands to reason that a knife is about as common as they’ve always been, and how many people have I seen using a hand crossbow since this shitshow started?

More than a few. It seems common among classes lacking ranged skills, who chose it for the same reasons I did. The only real conclusion he can draw if he recognized any of the others is that I’m one of Roderick’s guys. And I tore the bolt out before the effect could kick in.

Realistically, barring some Hail Mary skill or feat, I was in the clear. So, why was it so hard to let him go?

You know why.

I swore under my breath, watching Pat for just a moment more as he summoned what looked like a high-end blacked out dune buggy, finally feeling the all-consuming need to chase him flag as the engine roared to high pitch and the tires squealed. He faded into the distance.

It took a second to center myself, return my focus to what was important. I drank a health potion and observed the scene while I waited for my hand to heal.

The front of the storage facility had been blown to hell. Our mages and bomb maker had done a decent enough job avoiding damage to the interior, but there’s only so much you can do to put a cap on that much explosive power. There were clear casualties on both sides—Chastity’s face was barely visible beneath a mat of hair and blood. Dane hovered over her, shoving a potion in her mouth and discarding the next to an identical one that lay next to them.

There were traces that pointed to the likelihood the enemy group had pushed forward, then retreated. A deployed forcefield that was shielding no one, and the corpse of a magic User strewn on the ground next to one of many cement barricades.

My gaze lingered on him briefly, my lip curling in distaste. I’d known there was a risk. Anyone who believed we could do this with no body count was an idiot. But that didn’t make the reality any less unpleasant.

I watched Astria, puzzled. She and Astrid were shielded by an oval teal bubble that extended upwards nearly three stories in length. It was possible something had gotten through and hit her if there was a window of vulnerability, or the shield needed to be refreshed, but her clothes were in pristine condition. There were no visible injuries that I could see.

A thin, concentrated bolt of lightning thundered out from the third floor, striking the shield. It dimmed slightly. Astrid flinched, then grit her teeth, summoning another massive blue ball with her wand, aiming it towards the unseen sniper and releasing it.

Behind her, Astria slumped to the ground.

The beginnings of a theory ticked in my mind. Something that explained why Astrid’s likelihood of survival was so high, when Astria’s was the lowest in the group. Still, I didn’t have all the pieces. I needed more information.

Come on.

Miles’ Squelch had to be the culprit, even though I was outside the building. I looked for a way to close the distance without exposing myself to the sniper with the high vantage. It might be possible to loop back around the buildings behind us and use the APC as cover.

Not enough time. If it worked the way I thought it did, Astria had minutes, if not less.

With the blue light-show and the constant artillery barrage, they made a hell of a distraction. It was possible the sniper, or snipers, were entirely focused on the mages.

I stepped out from the cover of the building, only my right-leg and portion of my side showing.

Immediately, the hairs on my arm stood on-end. I threw myself backward as an explosion of arcing light left a black, smoking crater where my foot had been. I looked back towards the Mages. Astrid was bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for air like a person who had just run a marathon. The reprieve wouldn’t last long.

I spotted a familiar figure. Bob was close to the mages, crouching behind a cement barricade that was out of line with the others.

“Bob!” I shouted, calling his name several times before he heard me.

“The hell are you doing out here?” Bob shouted back.

“Forget that. I need to get to the mages. We’ll lose them if I don’t.”

Bob looked over to Astrid and Astria, then peeked above the barrier, falling back down immediately when a bolt of lightning struck. “Kind of pinned down over here.”

I remembered my previous estimation of Bob. That he’d hesitate under fire. So far, that was holding true. But people can only be pushed so far before one of two things happen. They break, or they snap. And there was a dangerous look in his eye. The look of a man tired of dealing with magic horseshit.

With an expression of rage, Bob rose from his cover and flipped the bird at the snipers with both hands and screamed. “Suck it, you rain-cloud wannabe bastards. Fuck you!”

Fuck me.

I fully expected Bob to collapse to the ground, newly covered in Lichtenberg figures, as the lightning ravaged his body.

Just before three bolts of lightning struck out, Bob ducked beneath the barrier, shuddering from the residual shock. Then he lifted one end of the barrier with both hands and half-ran, half-walked with it, dragging it alongside him.

That’s eight-hundred, nine-hundred pounds minimum.

Emulation told me it was feat-related, but that didn’t make the moment any less impressive.

Bob made it halfway to me when all three snipers fired again.

Now.

I sprinted out to meet him halfway. Asphalt rustled against my knees as I slid into cover. Bob dropped the barrier flat and pivoted to the other side, escorting me towards the two mages. He seemed to be running out of speed towards the end when I caught up with him. He collapsed against the barrier once we were close enough.

“You gonna be okay?” I asked him.

“Go.” Bob waved me towards the mages, a heavy sheen of sweat on his forehead. I made a mental note to never let Bob get in melee range, and left him there as I crossed into the forcefield.

Sound muffled. Astrid was standing upright again, Astria had fully collapsed, unmoving behind her. The smaller girl’s mouth was moving wordlessly. Her features somehow seemed less defined than before. Astrid, by comparison, looked sharper than when I left her. Her expression was dark, and she radiated an almost literal feeling of power.

Astrid held her wand aloft, aiming for the darkened windows on the third floor.

“Stop,” I said, putting as much authority and surety as I could into the single word.

Astrid whirled, pointing the wand at me. “What? Why?”

I glanced at the barrier. The color had faded somewhat, leaving only the slightest hint of blue. “How long until the barrier needs to be recast?”

How much longer will the shield last, Nick?

Between the dying mage and the forcefield, a powerful wave of déjà vu swept over me, the circumstances feeling all too familiar. The last time something like this had happened, people in my care had died.

It would happen again. That was almost inevitable. But not here.

My resolve cemented into iron.

“Ninety seconds. Give or take, depending on how much they hit it. Why—”

“What’s wrong with Astria?” I asked, keeping the questions coming, trying to limit pushback.

“Nothing.” Astrid glanced at her fallen sister in a mix of embarrassment and irritation, then back at me. “She always folds when shit hits the fan.”

“You care about her?”

“What?”

“Do you care about her?” I pressed, annunciating each word for emphasis. I hated being this direct, but Astrid’s answer was important. If my theory was correct, and she was leaning on the dynamic intentionally, there was next to nothing I could do for her.

Astrid looked me straight in the eye. “More than anything in the world.”

“Would you hurt her if you stood to benefit?”

“Never.” Her expression was resentful, as if some part of her hated me for daring to ask.

It was the truth. Simplified, reductive, but the truth.

“Then we need to figure this out fast,” I said, glancing at the woman on the ground. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re killing her.”