Extraits

CHAPTER ONE

Panoramic Battleground

BATTERY SPENCER WAS widely considered the best spot to snap shots of the Golden Gate Bridge. Every day, visitors to the ruins of the former military fort braved bone-chilling wind and fog for a spectacular panoramic view of one of San Francisco’s wonders. Today, they were braving the twirling cyclones summoned forth by a psychotic mage with melodramatic tendencies.

Well, perhaps ‘braving’ wasn’t the right word. The crowd stood at the edge of the fort, their cameras pressed against the chain-link fence that separated the ruins from the neighboring plot owned by Magical Research Laboratories. The foolish voyeurs clicked away with insatiable glee, their interest in the bridge temporarily discarded in favor of more exciting entertainment.

Exciting for them. Not for Sera, who didn’t exactly consider being slapped against concrete walls fun times. Everyone thought Mayhem, San Francisco’s oldest monster cleanup guild, attracted nothing but sadists and adrenaline junkies. In reality, it attracted mercenaries who preferred to eat every day, have working electricity, and keep a roof over their head: all those little delights that came with a steady paycheck. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on who you asked—there was no shortage of magical miscreants in the city.

This particular miscreant shot a blast of wind at Sera. She rolled to the side, avoiding it—barely. Her teeth chattered as the arctic gust whipped past her shoulder and jiggled the metal fence. It was never really warm up here at the battery, but this was outright ridiculous. The mage was drawing on the wind, channeling it into his own attacks. Which meant he’d be able to keep going for awhile. Awesome.

“We need to get past those cyclones,” Sera told Naomi.

Sera’s sometimes-partner looked out across the parking lot of twirling mini-tornados that separated them from the mad mage, her short platinum hair buzzing in the wind. “Yeah. Good idea.” There was no humor in her eyes.

[TRADUCTION PERSONNELLE]

"Descend par là !" hurlait-elle par-dessus son épaule.

Un homme assit se balançait au sommet de la barrière, une jambe étendue de chaque côté. Il devait avoir une bonne vingtaine d'années, suffisamment riche pour s'offrir des jeans de créateur sans craindre de les déchirer sur cette barrière. Il devait probablement avec un dressing plein de vêtements de créateur. Il était beau - et le savait. Aussi à l'aise qu'un chat allongé pour la sieste, il levait son téléphone au-dessus de sa tête et prit un cliché. Puis il inclina son menton vers Naomi et lui offrit un clin d'oeil. Plus bas, quelque uns de ses amis acclamaient et laissant entendre des sifflets.

"Idiots," murmurait Naomi, mais un sourire se dessinait sur ses lèvres. Elle ne pouvait pas s'en empêcher. Cela devait être son sang de fée. Les fées se délectaient de l'admiration des gens. Et les gens aimaient les admirer.

Sera retournait son attention vers le mage. Le champ de cyclones s'était un peu calmé, peut-être suffisamment pour courir jusqu'à lui. Il ferait ses yeux et fit rouler ses épaules en arrière, s'abaissant sur ses genoux en levant ses mains en l'air.

Oh-oh.