Free The Dream Crafter by Danielle Monsch Page A

Fallon’s attention was on the fight, a black aura rose above his skin, misty and lighter than what still enveloped Laire, the lines snaking around Fallon.
    Fallon jerked, but if it was in awareness of her situation, it was done too late. Merc had lured her in and closed the trap, and now she was enveloped, the magic covering most of her body as she fought against it. She was not helpless in the same way as Laire. She had movement, and where Laire seemed prisoner to the magic, even now Fallon was breaking through, the black sludge disappearing under her hands, a red glow arising from Fallon’s own skin.
    Merc rose. The magic that enveloped Fallon was still connected to his arm, and like he was throwing a discus, he tossed the magic towards the windows.
    Fallon, still enveloped within the magic, soared through the air, crashing through the window in an explosion of glass, traveling several feet into the city street. Shouts and the squeal of brakes ricocheted through the now glassless windowpane. Merc jumped through, slamming his hand on the ground, sending more blackness across the road. A crater formed, and even this far away its size and depth was noticeably massive. Fallon tumbled down, disappearing into the inky blackness.
    Laire was still on the ground battling her own entrapment, but before Amana could go to the mage, before thoughts began moving through her head again, Merc was at her side, grabbing her wrist in a rough grip and jerking her out of the café, using his other hand to take the bag still in her grasp.
    He pulled her to a waiting car, throwing her in and getting in the driver’s seat before she could recall her wits enough to protest. Tires pealing, they roared away from the chaos, the car fast and low and taking her to her doom.
    “You killed Fallon! By the gods, you killed Fallon !”

Chapter Twelve
    ‡
    “A re you ever coming up?”
    “Unless you’re planning on zapping me up there, shut the hells up.” Fallon’s voice carried up to Laire from the crater. Fallon still hadn’t emerged from the deep darkness, but the voice was close enough that Laire calculated a minute or less until visual contact.
    “Can’t.” And if there was a hint of smug glee in the tone, what could Fallon do to her anyway? “Used too much power getting rid of Merc’s little present and quelling the chaos he caused up here. People really need to calm their asses. It’s a little hole. Why yell over it?”
    “Laire, focus.”
    “ Anyway , I’m low on the power scale. I can’t even contact headquarters, so you’ll need to do it once you’re free of this-” she poked at the edge of the blackness that clung to the huge crater, disgust shuddering through her as she came into contact once again with the strain of magic similar to what held her captive. “-crap.”
    “Fine, I will. Leave me alone until I get up there.”
    Reclining so she was resting her head against her hand, Laire continued to watch for a head to appear. Alright, so it wasn’t little, it was a crater which almost took up half a block. Still didn’t excuse the yelling. “You kind of got your ass handed to you.”
    A muffled curse, the clink of rocks falling away, and a few seconds before Fallon’s voice came through again, lower-pitched and three degrees more strained than before. “The fight is to be continued.”
    “I don’t see Merc crawling up from a hole.”
    “As long as I’m drawing breath, it’s to be continued.”
    Fallon’s head popped into line of sight. She looked a little worse for wear, dirty and scratched, but nothing that had Laire itching to call the healers. It would still be another minute before Fallon cleared the crater, but Laire’s chest loosened a fraction with the visual confirmation of Fallon’s words. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”
    Fallon’s attention was fixed on finding the next handhold. “The possibility is looking stronger by the minute.”
    “Too bad. Not many can rock the guyliner