Chapter Fifty-Nine
JACE
The tractor trailer backs into the loading bay. There is a subtle rocking as it butts against the giant rubber pads at the dock.
We wait in the dark.
Our wolf eyes let us see clearly, but Morgan keeps her hand in front of her with a small flame glowing.
It flickers, casting shadows around her face.
Jacob and Michail are standing near the roll up door. Declan is driving.
There’s a knock against the container door, it’s soft but tells us the shipping official at the labs will be opening the bay.
Morgan moves to intercept them.
As the back opens, she’s already murmuring a spell.
The young guy stands frozen.
He holds a clipboard in one hand and a lollipop hangs out of his open mouth. It falls in slow motion and cracks against the concrete floor.
“What did you do to him?” I ask her.
“Nothing permanent,” she assures me. “His mind and body are suspended in time. In a few hours, he’ll wake up and be fine.”
Michail lifts him up–the guy is like a statue, unmoving and unblinking–and sets him in the back of the semi.
“One sec,” Jacob says.
He check’s the guy’s pockets and pulls out an employee key card. Then he rolls the back shut.
“Hope he isn’t afraid of the dark.”
Morgan shrugs. “His thoughts are frozen too. I’m not cruel. I wouldn’t trap a person in their own mind.”
Jacob has heavy bags of computer gear in each hand. Declan carries an assault rifle. But he slings it behind his shoulder. He drags a jacket on next. That’ll cost time if he needs to use that gun, but for now, I agree with his choice.
“This way,” Morgan says. “But first…”
She mutters a spell and I watch as Michail’s features are transformed. He looks like the young guard. Exactly like him.
“This better not be permanent, witch.”
She smirks. Then she changes her own features. Her hair shortening in length and darkening to black in color. Her eyes and skin darken too. She somehow adds several inches to her height. “There,” she says. “We’re even.”
Morgan leads us into what appears to be a warehouse portion of the building. Giant pallets are stacked against walls and in rows.
There are a few workers on forklifts at the opposite end of the room and they move like worker bees, stacking crates and disappearing into another section that’s marked by dropped down plastic strands, the kind you might see in a refrigerator or controlled-temperature storage area.
We wolves don’t deal in magic so seeing what all is possible…it’s eye opening.
She walks with purpose. Not too fast and with an easy confidence.
Maybe it’s because she understands that the less attention we garner, the better, and with her new glamour she won’t get caught on surveillance. Or maybe it’s because her grandmother’s power has imbued her with enough magic to face anything.
“Two o'clock," she says.
There they are. Another set of closed-circuit cameras.
We keep our heads slightly angled away and our eyes down. It won’t matter if we’re recognized. Not in the aftermath, anyway. But it’d be great if we could avoid at least the initial onset of enemy personnel.
We move into a long hallway. There are doors on either side and ahead I see a bay of windows.
“Security office in forty feet,” she says.
Ahead of that is a door, and a very sophisticated keypad beside it.
Morgan is building her magic again.
I can sense it now, it gives a hint of spark to the air, a current that is almost indistinguishable. Maybe it’s because we’ve been intimate, or because I’m a wolf, but I detect the minute changes. There is even the slightest smell–like ozone after a storm.
She casts her hands out and tendrils of smoke extend. The bluish white smoke moves quickly, slithering down the remainder of the hall and beneath the door into the security room.
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