Sleight of Hand: The Final Card

Chapter 27

Mac reached into his power, feeling the sweet rush of liquid metal in his veins—so much stronger than before—and watched as his eyes glowed brightly with silvery light. He sensed all the metal that he felt around him.

There was an abundance of weapons wielded by the humans being mind-controlled. Most of them were sharp.

Mac cursed. He really didn't want to fight mind-controlled humans with their own knives again and have to kill them. It wasn't fair.

"Trebor, cover me," Mac said and knelt, placing his hand against the ground. He closed his eyes and let his power stretch out. He sensed countless metals under the ground, and even more in the distance, in the old ware­house hidden in the woods that Kurtis had used for training and storage. Mac had forgotten how far he could reach with his power when he'd had all of it. It was exhilarating.

"Mac, not to rush you, but do you think you could pick up the pace?" Trebor grunted.

Mac opened his eyes to find him holding back a partic­ularly large man with a gun in his hand. The man jabbed at Trebor's stomach, forcing Trebor to release his arms and dart back. Which gave the man enough time to aim his gun at Trebor's head.

Mac thrust a hand out, crushing the metal gun in the man's hand as he fired, and the gun exploded. The man cried out in pain and slumped to the ground, cradling his hand.

Trebor regarded Mac with raised eyebrows.

"Thanks," he said, snapping back into fighting mode when another human came charging at him. Mac closed his eyes again and reach out to the metal abandoned in the warehouse. He pictured it floating out of the doors, through the woods and into the clearing. Mac opened his eyes again and through the fighting, he saw the pieces of metal stop at the edge of the clearing. He set the metal down in one large pile.

Trebor was little more than a blur as he fought off human after human. He used his eskrima to block their knife attacks or batter guns out of their hands, and with quick and precise movements he knocked them to the ground, unconscious.

After taking down a human him­self with his newly strengthened power, Mac called his name, and Trebor whirled toward him.

"I need your help!" Mac said, pushing to his feet. Trebor approached and he continued, "See that metal pile over there?"

Trebor followed his finger to the edge of the woods. Realization dawned in his eyes, and he nodded. Discard­ing his eskrima into his shadow, he grabbed Mac's arm and stepped into Mac's shadow. Mac was dragged along in complete darkness, unable to breathe or see. His lungs were screaming for air when they finally resurfaced.

"Sorry," Trebor gasped beside him, also out of breath. "I was having trouble finding a shadow to come out of."

"Right," Mac panted. "Wasn't it sunny like... two seconds ago?"

Trebor nodded, and they both looked up at the sky. Dark storm clouds were rapidly gathering, leading both of them to say, "Alyakim."

"Come on, we still have a ways to go," Trebor urged, pointing to Mac's metal pile. They took off, dodging and fending off human attacks. A gunshot rang out near them and the bark of a tree next to their heads exploded. They instinc­tively ducked for cover.

"I hate guns," Trebor grumbled, and Mac had to agree. He sent his power surging outward again, sensing the metal of all the infernal devices that so easily killed. Mentally, Mac crumpled them all, rendering them useless to the human army.

Having all his power back was so liberating!

"Do what you need to do," Trebor commanded, unsheathing the daggers from the leg holsters he was wearing over his pants in one smooth movement. He had one strapped to both thighs, and another knife sheathed on his belt. Why Trebor had chosen the leg blades over the one on his belt was lost on Mac. Trebor's combat skills went over his head. Mac would have to ask him sometime.