Sebastian

trying to tear him apart. Even if the Den's residents jumped into the fight to help him, people would get hurt. Some might even die.
    The purebloods knew he'd killed one of them. They wouldn't risk themselves when the humans would do this ugly bit of work for them. But they were still trying to lure him in, make him vulnerable to every kind of attack.
    Sebastian.
    Why was he resisting? He couldn't quite remember.
    He took a step toward the purebloods.
    Sebastian!
    Love turned fierce in its desperation to reach him blazed through him, freeing him from the purebloods'
    thrall. He knew the feel of that love, the heat of it, the passion that came from that heart.
    Lynnea!
    The wizard's power rose up in him, tingled in his fingertips—a cold fire that came from an icy clarity of mind rather than the heat of emotions.
    "I protect the Den," he said, raising his voice to reach the crowd as he stared at the purebloods. "You are a threat to the people here, to all the people of Ephemera. You are killers and must be destroyed. Justice demands it."
    The purebloods snarled. The crowd surged toward him.
    He raised his hand, pointed at the purebloods—and unleashed the lightning.
    Jagged streaks of power, blinding white, hit all four of them. Enveloped them. Blazed through them.
    Burned them.
    They screamed, unable to escape the power. The men who had been surging toward him suddenly fell over one another in their haste to get away from him.
    Even after the purebloods lay dead in the street, an echo of their screams seemed to linger.
    No one spoke; no one moved.
    He looked at the crowd. The thrall had died with the purebloods. Now the men's faces held nothing but fear—of him.
    "Leave the Den," he told them. "Don't come back."
    They scrambled to their feet, scurried in the direction of whatever bridge would take them back to their home landscapes. He watched them until the last man was out of sight. Then he turned to face the courtyard.
    Fear in Teaser's eyes, in Philo's. Even the bull demons looked at him in fear. But Lynnea…
    Maybe she didn't understand what he was. Maybe she didn't care. All he felt from her was relief… and love.
    "Daylight, Sebastian," Teaser finally said, his voice rising to a pitch close to hysterical. "You're a wizard!"
    He rubbed his right thumb over the tips of his fingers, feeling the slight tingle of that cold magic. And he remembered something Aunt Nadia had said once.
    There are two kinds of wizards. Many enjoy the fawning and attention that is given them out of fear. But there are others who use their power in the name of justice to protect people from the things that would truly do them harm.
    "No," he said, looking at Philo, then at Teaser. "I'm not a wizard. I'm a Justice Maker."
     

 

     
     

Chapter Eighteen

 

     
     

     
    Dalton watched Henley and Addison set up the tents near the wagon that held their supplies. No point sleeping on the ground, exposed to the whims of weather, when they didn't have to. And they were close enough to Wizard City that he could send a man back every other day for fresh food.
    Faran would live. The surgeon was hopeful that the man wouldn't lose the leg and that the rest of the limbs, numbed by the venom, would fully recover. But the surgeon was less hopeful that the injured leg would ever be strong enough to support the demands of a guard's duties. So Faran would be given a season's pay as compensation and would be cast out to build a new life suitable for a partially crippled man.
    "Cap'n?" Addison said, approaching him. "Tents are up. We're going to water the horses, then picket them to let them graze."
    Dalton looked past Addison's shoulder, unwilling to look the man in the eye. "That's fine."
    Addison sighed. "You did what you could, Cap'n. We all know you argued to keep Faran on the ledger, leastwise until he was healed up and could know for sure if he had to give up the guards. But maybe it's for the best. Bad times are coming. We all know it. So maybe Faran will be better off going back to some country village and taking up a different line of work. He's a good man with horses. Has a way with them. And he was never comfortable with the rough side of a guard's life. Too much a gentleman." He paused, then added, "Like you."
    Flattered and embarrassed, Dalton looked at the other man. "Thank you."
    Addison scuffed the ground with one foot. "I'd best go help Henley with the horses."

    Dalton waited until the guard walked away before turning to study