Free Jacob's Trial [Forbidden Legacy 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) by Heather Long Page B

strength lay in his ability to cast over great distances with absolute precision.
    A sniper’s gift.
    Jacob lifted an arm, halting the trio. The three of them were powerful, but their gifts were more focused in areas of the senses, tracking, unraveling deceit, and poisons. They were precise surgeons and Vanagan a sledgehammer.
    “Congratulations, Wizard Book.” Vanagan’s feral grin dispelled any idea that Jacob and his men had the upper hand. “Loyalty such as this should be commended, no matter how foolish.”
    The salt-and-pepper-crowned Wizard didn’t so much move as fade away with a snap of his fingers. The air collapsing into the illusion that held his image in place as though burned to the retinas.
    “Down!” Jacob bellowed the word, the trailing sound muffled by four detonations as the cars the Wizards drove blew upward on clouds of orange fire. Flaming debris rained burning metal, blistering ash, and scalding oil. Jacob focused his will, thickening the shields around him as the conflagration swept the area.
    The force followed the initial burst, buffeting his shields and flinging him backward. The Glashtyn surged around him, the blast diverting around him like a raging river around a great boulder. The air turned brilliant orange, crimson, and yellow with mage greens and blues filling the turbulent pockets.
    As quickly as it manifested, the eruption imploded, turbulence sucking at his limbs as it retreated into the remains of wreckage and ash. Unsurprisingly, Vanagan and his Wizards were gone. Domoir pawed the ground, his neck arching as he bowed his head. The air continued to shimmer, magic rising from his slick back as though moisture turned to steam in the heat.
    The skin on Jacob’s face was too tight. The muscles in his body protested the brutal crush of power against the hard concrete. “Sound off.” He muttered the order but fed a tendril of power into the words, letting them echo through the desolate bones of the abandoned L.A. warehouses.
    “Clear.” Jude waved his hand, coiling the inky, black smoke higher, where the breezes pushing through downtown’s skyscraper canyon could carry it away.
    “Clear.” Paul limped from beyond the wreckage, Miller and DuPois trailing in his wake.
    “Holy hell to clear, I’ve still got all my body parts.” Dalton exited through the shell of disintegrated chain link. “What the hell was that?”
    “The reason no one messes with the Brotherhood of the Rose Cross.” Miller dusted off the sooty ash, the debris shivering away from the magic dusting off his fingers. Unlike the others working with Jacob, Miller’s age was indeterminate. When he spoke of the past, which wasn’t often, he referred to eras mostly forgotten by the rest of the world.
    “What did you do to vex them, Jacob?” He also refused to call Jacob “boss” or apply the title of Wizard Book. Most of the time, Jacob enjoyed it. Except for instances like now, where the Wizard’s adopted paternal tone indicated fault.
    “I said no.” His right ear burned to the touch and he tested it with his palm, drawing it back to inspect the blood. He’d only shielded the firestorm of debris, not the concussive boom that muted sound.
    “You know, that chick is hot. But she isn’t worth all this,” Dalton announced, casually ignoring Domoir’s baleful snort.
    “Leave it alone,” Paul’s empty tone whispered through the ash snowing down.
    “Look, I’m just saying…” Dalton spread his hands. “She’s got a great body, but crap goes boom where she’s concerned.”
    “The Brotherhood’s demands are not her fault.” DuPois interrupted as he prowled through the flaming wreckage. “The outing of the Fae will bring out every faction. The fragile balance is shattered. Everyone will want a piece of this new power.”
    “And it’s up to us to stop them, right, boss?” The fires of idealism burned in Jude’s earnest expression.
    “No.” Jacob embraced the firmness of the order. “It is up