Hart knew she should have done something sooner, but she had been paralyzed by uncharacteristic indecision. While she had dithered, the runners had set out after the Circle. Her arguments against impulsive action had been overridden by an equally uncharacteristic agreement between Dodger and Estios that they couldn’t wait. Having those two elves backing him was all Sam had needed.
His obsession with seeing the Circle stopped was every bit as strong as his fixation had been with bringing Haesslich to justice. But this time it was purer, more noble. It was more than just a revenge scheme. He was working against the Circle because he had been tricked into helping them with their plots. Deep down, though, he was out to stop them because they needed to be stopped. And he was right.
Maybe that was why her arguments had lacked force, why she had not found other ways to handle the problem.
When she had not been able to deflect the runners from charging in on the Circle’s ritual, she had gone along. Opportunities could not always be predicted. Besides, if they had all been out of her sight, she would have had no way of keeping track of their actions, no hope of guiding them. She had still been looking for a way to short-circuit the raid when the precipitous rush into the old warehouse had begun.
The Lady would not be happy.
Hart had seen most of the druids escape the runners’ attack. Given their capabilities, she had no fear that they would not escape Estios and the others, especially now that Willie’s surveillance drones were neutralized. The Hidden Circle would re-form to perform their dirty magic. They were still a functional ritual group; even though they had lost members, their leaders and strongest magicians survived. Perhaps that would be enough for them to do whatever it was that the Lady expected them to do. If so, Hart’s lack of action would be excusable. Except for one matter.
Sam.
From beneath the cloak of her invisibility spell, she watched him scramble about the warehouse looking for a weapon. He snatched a pistol from the hand of a dead acolyte and began firing at the slime thing stalking him. His calm was commendable; he grouped his shots neatly between the dark pits that would have been eyes if the monstrosity had had a face. His shots inflicted no significant damage.
The stubbornness that made him so persistent had betrayed him. Had he faced his true nature, he would have known how to deal with this summoning. This was a thing of magic; evil and twisted magic to be sure, but magic nonetheless. Short moments ago, he had seen how ineffective the combat drone’s machine gun fire had been. Had he studied spirits as he should have, he would have known the minimal firepower of a pistol could not affect it. Magic must be fought with magic.
It would be so easy. All she had to do was turn her back and it would be over. She wouldn’t even have to do it herself. Sam would be dead, and the Lady would be satisfied. Or reasonably so. Distracting or eliminating Estios’s crew wouldn’t be so hard. By the letter, her contract would be fulfilled.
So why didn’t she? Why was her heart racing and her palms sweating? She felt her concentration slip, and the invisibility spell die.
Sam’s attention flickered from his opponent to her as she appeared. She saw fear in his eyes, and when he shouted, she knew what he feared.
“Get out! I can’t stop it! Save yourself!”
Could she?
She summoned energy, twisting it into the shape of her most powerful spell of banishment. She felt the thing become aware of her. If she failed, it would come for her and she, exhausted from the attempted dismissal, would be easy prey. She unleashed the first tendril of magic to bind the spirit into submission. The spirit howled astrally as the ribbon of azure energy touched it. It struggled.
She sensed a vague familiarity—a feeling of previous acquaintance—as contact was made, and shuddered. She had never summoned such a thing. This was a toxic spirit such as could only be summoned by a demented magician. She would have no truck with such warped evil.
Her revulsion fed her will. The second tendril wrapped the spirit, adhering more tightly than the first. The spirit struggled against the bonds. Its efforts tore the first, but Hart replaced the sundered binding with a third and fourth. The thing’s attempts at escape weakened. It began to plead wordlessly, but she had no pity for such a monstrosity. She tightened her spell, squeezing the toxic spirit out of existence.
What should never have been was no more.
The world spun, and her vision greyed as she slumped against the wall. The sludge spirit was banished, its animating presence terminated. Sam ran to her, carefully avoiding the puddles of caustic slime that were all that remained of the thing.
Practical. Even when running on emotion. If she had been so practical…
She blacked out.