Rogue Agents on the Run (Rogue Agents of Magic Book 2) Read online

  Rogue Agents on the Run

  Rogue Agents of Magic™ Book 2

  TR Cameron

  Michael Anderle

  Martha Carr

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 1.00, October, 2021

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-68500-492-7

  Print ISBN: 978-1-68500-493-4

  The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-21 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Author Notes - TR Cameron

  Author Notes - Martha Carr

  Other series in the Oriceran Universe:

  Connect with The Authors

  Books By Michael Anderle

  The Rogue Agents on the Run Team

  Thanks to our beta reader:

  Larry Omans

  Thanks to our JIT Readers:

  Wendy L Bonell

  Dave Hicks

  Jeff Goode

  Zacc Pelter

  Diane L. Smith

  If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

  Editor

  Skyhunter Editing Team

  Dedication

  For those who seek wonder around every corner and in each turning page. And, as always, for Dylan and Laurel.

  — TR Cameron

  Chapter One

  Rath shouted for joy as a wind current caught his wings and bumped him a few feet upward. It took several moments of banking and compensating to get himself realigned, every one of them deeply enjoyable. He loved flying, loved the feel of being out in the expansive darkness of the countryside. Now that I have my best flight gear back, along with Harley, everything is as it should be. His earpiece relayed the amused tone of Diana, his life partner. “Okay up there, buddy?”

  He laughed. “Roger Roger.” Since being forced out of the vimana, he’d added the second trilogy of Star Wars movies to his repertoire and found them eminently quotable. “It’s over, Anakin. I have the high ground.”

  The team’s tech, Kayleigh, said, “Stay on course there, padawan.”

  “No worries.” A drone passed above him, controlled from her workstation back in the Magic City bunker that was their temporary base. While the technology was more than adequate to give an overview, machines could never replicate Rath’s instincts, which was why he was airborne over the farm in upstate New York.

  Cara said, “I think Max is getting antsy.”

  Rath cackled again. He’d suggested that the dog should start coming on more missions with them. During the team’s time in Pittsburgh, he and Max had shared many adventures, and he thought his friend probably missed the experience. “Give him a treat.”

  Diana laughed. “Your answer to everything involving this dog is ‘give him a treat.’”

  “He likes treats.”

  A sigh came over the comm. “Okay, he can have one more biscuit. But that’s it until the mission is over. Now, game face, Rambo. Tell me what you see.”

  He turned off his microphone for a moment to communicate privately. “Gwen, cycle through detection modes, please.”

  The AI replied, “Sure, sweetie.” Over time, with some coding help from Deacon, his virtual assistant was developing a stronger personality. Rath was a fan of the change.

  The view through his goggles rotated through the settings, first showing electrical patterns, then heat signatures, then a representation of sound emanations. He was still too far away for that one to work very well. As everyone grew closer to the target, his system would automatically talk to theirs, and that detection mode would become more effective.

  The goggles switched to lowlight and rendered the area below him in a creepy green. The farm had a stereotypical sprawling house, two stories high. A barn with a silo was next to it, plus a low building nearby. The drone had identified it as a garage containing tractors and other equipment for planting and reaping. He toggled on his microphone again. “Heat signatures in the barn.”

  Kayleigh replied, “I have those too. Looks like seven bodies.”

  “I see the same number, but most are in a circle around one. So, possibly two groups.” He’d come a long way since his first days as a member of the team. It had cost him a little innocence, and when he thought about it, he kind of missed the completely gleeful troll he used to be. But he was a better partner now, to Diana, to Max, and the rest of his comrades. It’s a worthy trade-off.

  He soared in a circle around the house, then did the same to the barn. “No activity in the house. There’s a second-floor entrance on the back of the barn.”

  Cara said, “Probably a hayloft. Saw a lot of those when I was growing up.”

  Diana asked, “Seem like a viable way in, Rambo?”

  He replied, “Affirmative.”

  “Then land somewhere inconspicuous and join us in the back.”

  Rath grinned. “Roger Roger.” He thought his droid impression was coming along, and the laughter that greeted his words confirmed it. “Give Maxie another treat.”

  Diana sighed. “You don’t listen.” The Borzoi beside her chuffed as if he’d heard the conversation and agreed with her. Or with Rath, more likely. She fished out a Milk-Bone and tossed it to him, with a warning to stay quiet. She met her second in command’s eyes, and Cara shrugged.

  The other woman said, “Once you rescued Rambo from that cage, it sealed your fate.”

  “No argument. Let’s do it.” She jogged toward the back of the barn, moving from patches of minimal cover to other patches of minimal cover since that’s all that was available. It appeared the place was an actual working farm, which meant lots of wide-open areas that prevented a truly stealthy approach. She and Cara were both hidden under illusory veils, a magic neither was particularly good at yet, so any additional concealment was welcome.

  If they had access to all their gear, they would’ve been wearing
suits that could disguise their body heat and use active camouflage to blend them into the background. They hadn’t been able to get all their stuff out of the vimana, even after they’d counterattacked the government agency that had taken it over, and their custom-fitted camo suits remained in their enemy’s hands. The memory still burned her, and she remained determined that, as soon as feasible, they’d have all their equipment back. Not that we can use it all, of course.

  Being fugitives, largely because of choices she’d made that she’d doubtless make again in the same situation, meant they no longer had official cover for breaking the law. Bryant had repeatedly emphasized that if they killed anyone, the government could potentially try them for murder. None of them wanted that, so they carried nonlethal weaponry primarily.

  They’d replaced their rifles with grenade launchers loaded with antiriot rounds. While she still had a pistol at her thigh, she was far more likely to use hand-to-hand combat or magic to deal with her enemies. Even the sword on her back was a little dicey.

  She’d discussed the issue with Ruby Achera, the leader of the Mist Elves, who’d shared with her the idea of coating the weapon with a thin barrier of force magic, something the other woman regularly did for training. Diana thought she could probably manage the focus to accomplish it during a fight.

  They reached the rear of the barn, and Rath trotted up to meet them, his mechanical wings retracted into the rectangular container strapped to his back. He still carried his throwing knives but would use them sparingly for the same reason she and Cara weren’t carrying rifles. Kayleigh’s voice startled her a little as the woman said, “Confirmed Rambo’s vision of six around one. I took the drone low, and it looks like the bigger group is standing, and the other is sitting on a chair or something.”

  Diana nodded. “Not good for the one, probably. Deke, have any additional info?”

  “He’s searching for more right now but hasn’t come up with anything other than what we already know. Family-owned, moderately functional, and mostly self-sufficient, to judge by the owner’s spending patterns. Plus several conspiracy theories about the place.”

  It was those conspiracies that had led them to the spot and inspired the operation. Diana had decided that part of their mandate would now be helping ordinary people afflicted with, or impacted by, Rhazdon artifacts. The things were a scourge, the tools of a historical tyrant. All of them were moderately sentient at a minimum, at least enough to inspire their users to commit bad acts.

  They’d managed to save the host they’d last encountered up on Cape Cod. Although save might be a strong word since we had to turn him over to the Paranormal Defense Agency. I hope Paul Andrews learned to be less of a jerk after the events in Magic City.

  Diana didn’t regret helping out Ruby on several occasions. Still, she was cognizant it was probably the catalyst that caused people to look more deeply at her team and judge they weren’t turning over all the artifacts they should be. She had feared and still feared the government would be overconfident with Rhazdon’s legacy, resulting in all sorts of bad outcomes.

  When they were all gathered, she picked up Max, gripped him tightly in one arm, and used the other to blast herself upward with force magic. She landed lightly on the ledge that jutted out in front of the hole in the barn. Cara arrived beside her, a bit off-balance, and reached out to steady herself. Diana laughed. “Your flying is a little questionable, Croft. I bet Rambo has some advice for you.”

  The troll’s grapnel pulled him up to them as he laughed. “Must train.”

  Cara sighed. “That’s your answer for everything. Not that you’re wrong.”

  They instinctively crouched as a sound they all recognized, flesh against flesh, came from below. Diana saw the person in the chair almost go over backward before one of those in the circle around him caught it and yanked it upright. The bound man was middle-aged and wore what appeared to be a sheriff’s uniform. The group surrounding him was a mix, some magicals, some possibly human. All of them glared at the captive with judgment in their expressions.

  The one who’d hit him, a dark elf with his thin lips bent down into a frown, snarled, “You should know better than to investigate us, to speak out against us. We are the authority here. You’re just a figurehead to keep the sheep placid.”

  His tone predicted trouble for the law enforcement officer, which Diana couldn’t allow. Even if the location held no artifacts, something was wrong. She said, “Let’s do it.” The first grenade loaded in her launcher was a flash-bang, which seemed perfect for the situation. She shot it and jumped down after it, still holding Max in one arm.

  Rath and Cara followed, the troll crowing, “Come get some.”

  Chapter Two

  Diana released Max as she neared the ground, and the Borzoi landed cleanly, immediately circling to the back of the gathered enemies. Her boots hit the floor directly between the attacker and his victim, barely a foot and a half away from the Drow. He staggered backward, and the sounds coming from around her indicated the rest of the circle had done the same.

  One corner of her display offered a top-down schematic of the situation. The dots that represented her allies were at the rear of the enemies behind her, so she eliminated them as a threat. The flash-bang went off as she arrived, her goggles dimming automatically and the comms in her ears dampening the sound, thanks to a small pulse from the grenade warning her gear of what was to come. They’d rigged eye and ear protection for the Borzoi as well, plus an armored vest with an attached holster, currently empty.

  It had taken Max a little while to get used to the stuff, but Rath was determined he should join them in the field, and Diana couldn’t argue when she saw how much the dog appeared to enjoy it. The rest of us fight. Why shouldn’t he, I guess. The circle became less of one as their opponents reacted to the assault on their eyes and ears, and she leapt into action. Before the man in front of her could acquire his bearings, she stepped forward and snapped a kick up into his groin. When he crumpled, she twisted her hips to launch a punch into his temple. The controlled blow would’ve been hard enough on its own to make him woozy, but the snap of her shock gloves’ detonation rendered him instantly unconscious.

  She turned to her right and hit the next in line with a blast of force magic, sending him flying backward to slam into the barn wall. The wood splintered behind him, and he wound up stuck there, a few feet off the ground, with his backside sticking out through the broken plank. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, which looked like something out of a cartoon.

  Cara’s warning jolted her back into action. “Boss, down.”

  Diana complied, and a weapon whipped through the air over her head, rustling her hair with the force of its passage. She dove forward from her crouch, shoulder rolling and turning to regain her feet facing her new foe. One of the standing figures had been a Kilomea, and he’d reacted faster than his companions and protected himself at least partially from the flash-bang.

  Beyond him, Cara and Rath were both in motion. The former dispatched enemies with fists and feet. The latter slapped them with batons that snapped and cracked whenever the tips made contact. Given our current circumstance, it’s lucky we already had stun gear developed. Ruby and her people were working on additional nonlethal options, but waiting for them hadn’t been a viable option.

  Diana hit the creature with a force blast, and while it stopped his forward momentum, it didn’t do much more than that. She gave him a respectful nod. “You’re a big one.”

  He twirled his huge scythe and laughed, his lips parting to reveal teeth sharpened to points. “All the ladies say so.”

  Diana rolled her eyes. “As if anyone would be interested in someone as ugly as you.” He was exceptionally unattractive. Her only bias against Kilomea as a group was that more often than not, they seemed to be on the other side of whatever issue was at hand.

  This one, though, was missing a third of his teeth and had a nasty scar pinching the right half of his face. The left s
ide of his skull looked like it had been dented at one point, giving his head a complete lack of symmetry. She grimaced. “Seriously, did your mama beat you with an ugly stick or something?”

  He stepped forward and slashed down with the scythe at an angle, forcing her to dance to her left and use a blast of force magic to redirect it away from her. The power of his blows would be enough to break her bones if she blocked. She let the grenade launcher fall on its strap and drew Fury from over her shoulder.

  He brought his weapon into a guard position. “No. I earned each of these blemishes killing those who tried to interfere with me and mine. It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”

  She darted in with her sword, slashing at the weapon’s handle right in the middle of where his hands gripped it. He brought a surprisingly fast foot around to knock her blade sideways, his heavy boot not permitting it to penetrate, then snapped out a roundhouse kick at her ribs as soon as his other foot landed.

  She dropped an elbow to block the blow, taking it on the muscles of her arm rather than the fragile bones. Her bulletproof vest had additional protection for such situations and likely would’ve absorbed most of the strike, but it was pointless to take that risk if she didn’t need to. She extended a thread of magic to coat her blade, then slammed it down at his knee. The Kilomea danced aside, astonishingly nimble for his bulk, and slashed the huge farm tool down at her from a different angle than before.