Wings of Fire (The Obsidian Order Book 4)

by Katerina Martinez

  My fingers were shaking. That son of a bitch fiend got me pretty good. I remembered the way the blade felt going in, and then out. Another twist of the stomach. Asshole. I peeked around the corner, watching the dark, night skies for signs of the bastard chasing me. Hunting me. There was only New York, its towering monoliths glittering against the clouds hanging above them.

  Maybe I’d lost him.

  Don’t be stupid, Seline. This was no ordinary fiend I’d gone up against, but Corax, the Crimson Hunter. I reached for my dagger, instinct drawing my hand to my boot. But it was gone. Dammit. No way this Crimson Hunter had just abandoned the chase. He was behind me, somewhere, waiting to make his move, and I didn’t have a weapon on me. Dammit—dammit!

  There was only one thing to do in the oasis of time I’d found. I pressed my hand against the wound again, my now cold, wet fingers meeting the hot, bleeding skin. I grimaced from the feel of it, ground my teeth together, and forced the word out.

  “Vigo,” I said, forcing magic to fill me and work its way into the wound. The singing stone attached to my wrist started to glow with soft, golden light, and instantly its power moved through me. It was a warm rush, an almost euphoric sensation. My entire body quaked as warm waves rippled throughout my body, the magic stitching my skin together and replenishing the blood I’d been leaving all over New York.

  It was only a temporary fix, though. I’d need stitches, or more powerful healing magic later on, but it would do for now.

  I took a deep breath now that my body was whole again and gave myself a second to get my bearings. This time when I looked around the corner, I had a front row seat to the massive hand thrusting out toward me. The fiend grabbed me by the throat and swung me around the back of the vent I’d been hiding behind.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” I managed, despite the pressure on my windpipe.

  “Did you miss me?” he snarled. His face was grey and leathery, his canines sharp and pointed, and his eyes… they were a demon’s eyes. Amber flecked with red, filled with an inescapable malice and cruelty.

  “Will you be mad if I say no?”

  “More disappointed than mad.” He shoved me against a solid, concrete wall, and my back screamed with pain, but I held it together. “Valoel has promised to bestow on me the highest honor if I bring you back alive. Perhaps he’ll let me keep your skull as a trophy, something to display at our temple.”

  “You know,” I croaked, “It’s not healthy that you put your self-worth in what people think of your trophies. You should value yourself more than what they think.”

  Corax frowned. “Why own trophies if not to display your dominance and hunting skills?”

  “Why own trophies at all? Who gives a fuck about people.”

  “You have a fire in you I could have used in the brotherhood, too bad you have earned Valoel’s ire. You would’ve made a fine hunter.”

  “Yeah, I probably would’ve been better than you. Then who’d have all the trophies to show off?”

  He slammed me against the wall, pain ripping through me again. Good work, Seline. Piss him off a little more. See if he doesn’t just rip you in two. My hands brushed against an iron bar hanging loosely off the wall. I started working at it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  “I grow tired of your smart mouth, insolent little bitch,” he purred, “Maybe I’ll just end you right now, say it was an accident. I don’t think Valoel will care much either way.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Maybe you shouldn’t count me out just yet.”

  When I finally wrenched the iron bar free, I slammed it against the side of Corax’s head and sent him staggering. He looked dazed for an instant, but he recovered quickly. Corax readied his blade—and my dagger.

  He swiped at me with his sword, a vicious arc meant to cut me in half from my head to my pelvis. I rolled away from the tip of the blade. When it smashed into the floor, sparks flew. Giving me no respite, he lashed out with my own dagger, thrusting it toward me. I parried the edge of the sword away with my metal rod, aimed the palm of my hand toward his midsection, and roared another word of power.

  “Veshrim!”

  A blast of energy shot out of my hand and struck the fiend so hard it lifted him off the ground and sent him crashing to the floor a few feet away. Better still, he’d dropped my dagger. I ditched the metal rod, dashed toward my dagger, and rolled for it, scooping it up and readying myself for another attack making a mental note of what had just happened.

  Offensive magic works against him, defensive magic has trouble. Got it.

  Corax picked himself up. On his chest was a burning mark, tresses of smoke rising from charred skin. He looked down at the mark on his body, then stared at me, the amber in his eyes flashing for an instant.

  “You think you’re a powerful warrior,” Corax said, swiping at the scorched mark on his chest with the palm of his hand. “The truth is, you’ve escaped death only by luck so far. This time, there will be no escaping death.”

  I was starting to wonder if he was right. There was no backup out here, no Obsidian Order waiting to spring a trap, no Draven, no Felice. I did have one card left to play, though. I’d made it almost all the way home before Corax caught up to me. Bastet would probably kill me if I led a fiend back to her neck of the woods, but she’d get over it, right?

  Yeah, she probably will.

  “Alright, fucker,” I said, gripping my knife and sending a pulse of power through it, “Let’s see who death catches tonight.”

  The blade began to hum and glow with golden light. At my back, my ethereal wings emerged from nothing, making the shadows around me grow longer and harsher. Corax shielded his eyes from the light, and I took the opportunity to turn around and start running.

  As soon as I reached the edge of the building, I leapt into the sky and cleared the distance to reach the other one. Rolling on my shoulder, I was quick to get up and start running again. My wings of light were a target, a beacon in the darkness to show Corax where I was going, but that was what I wanted.

  I knew this neighborhood better than he did. I had the lay of the land down, it was one of the first things I’d done after Bastet let me crash at her place. Going back to my own home turf would give me the advantage over Corax, who was possibly a much better fighter than I was. Tough as nails, too. I’d need every advantage I had.

  True to his character, Corax gave chase. He was a huge, hulking beast with massive leathery wings, but he flew like an owl. Silent. A perfect predator. I’d learned not to underestimate this quality the hard way, so I made sure to keep a note of his position by checking for him between jumps. It soon became clear he wasn’t making an effort to keep hidden. He wanted me to know where he was. He wanted me to know death was coming.

  Stealth tactics had been replaced with scare tactics. Good thing for me, I’d been through enough shit not to scare too easily.

  There was a church near Bastet’s apartment. It was a place she liked to go to, one she was eager to show me after we’d basically become roommates. The steeple was huge, the church itself a massive, gothic monument with more sharp points than seemed safe. Occasionally, lights would flicker around behind its stained-glass windows.

  And from time to time, the bells would toll in the dead of night.

  As far as Bastet knew, though, the church wasn’t in use. Nobody lived there. Not even priests. People weren’t allowed inside. The gates were always locked. The first time I’d walked past it, I’d sensed a strange energy coming from it that almost felt like whispers brushing against my ear. It had been enough to make me not want to go back.

  I heard the bells tolling now, as if they were beckoning me to go to them, and I answered. Leaping from building to building, using the magic of my golden wings to help carry me across the gaps, even if they couldn’t make me fly.

  I reached the block closest to the church and saw Corax wasn’t far behind me, descending like a demon through the air, his leathery wings carrying him silently. I readied a running jump, ai
ming for the edge of the building and taking to the air again.

  My jump was perfect. I soared through the sky, my wings leaving a trail of wispy light behind me. I wasn’t exactly flying, but I was rising, and rising, clearing the street below me, the trees, the fence surrounding the church. I landed on the church’s rooftop, spinning around to find Corax still coming for me.

  The fiend had a distinct advantage over me in that he could fly. That meant he’d be swiping down while I’d be swiping up. I had to even things out a little more, so I dashed across the church’s rooftop, along its flattest edge, until the slope beneath my feet started turning upwards. I’d reached the base of the bell tower, gargoyles flanked me, gothic iron spikes surrounded me. Corax wouldn’t be able to get close enough on his wings to hit me, and he knew that.

  He landed ahead of me, his huge wings beating hard even after he’d touched down.

  “Come here, little bird,” he said, beckoning me with his clawed fingers. Saliva dribbled down his chin.

  “Nah, I think I’m good,” I said, aiming the tip of my knife at him. “I have a better idea… Voyda.”

  The night air shimmered around me, and I disappeared into it, pulling myself out of Corax’s immediate view. I had only a couple of seconds before he used his own magic to punch through my mantle of invisibility, but I only needed a few seconds to do what I needed to do.

  With a running start and a bounding leap, I flipped over the fiend’s head and stuck my knife in his back. His hide was tough to pierce, but my knife found the soft flesh beneath before I yanked it out of his skin. Blood spilled out of the wound. Corax roared and spun around, his sword coming down in a vicious, blind arc.

  I ducked under the attack and went to strike him again. This time he jumped out of my reach before I could hit him, but he was big and bulky, and the thin—flat—spine of rooftop we were dancing on wasn’t wide enough to support his stance. His footing came out from under him, and it was only thanks to his wings that he managed to level himself.

  While he was distracted doing that, though, I was already in the air, the tip of my knife aimed at his throat, bounding toward him. He turned his eyes up at the last second and stuck his hand out to protect his neck from my dagger. It was enough to deflect my strike just enough to avoid a killing blow, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from crashing into him and sticking my knife into his chest.

  He groaned loudly from the pain, his wings shuddered and twitched, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and now we were both falling. Twisting, tumbling, we both rolled along the church’s sloped rooftop before falling finally off its edge. I struggled to keep Corax underneath me as we raced toward the ground, but he was a lot stronger than me and managed to push me off.

  Lucky for me, my body righted itself an instant before I hit the floor, and I landed softly on the wet earth below. Not so lucky for Corax, who hit the ground hard on his back. It was as if a gargoyle had come loose from the church’s steeple and plummeted toward the ground. The impact was strong enough that he made a Corax shaped crater in the soil.

  For a moment I was stunned. I thought fiends and Aevians were related, thought we shared some innate gifts, like the gift of not being hurt from a fall. But there was Corax, still and unmoving, clearly injured by the tumble he’d just taken off the side of the church. He’d lost his grip on his sword, but it had landed a little too close to him for comfort.

  I dashed toward it, covering the distance in seconds. Corax managed to lift one of his arms, enough that he could reach across from his body and grab hold of the sword he’d dropped. By the time he wrapped his fingers around the pommel, I had my foot pressed against his wrist. I ground my heel into his flesh. Groaning, he released his grip on the sword.

  I grabbed the sword and tossed it aside, then I aimed the tip of my knife at his throat.

  “Don’t even think about using magic on me,” I warned.

  “Or… what…” he struggled to get out. I had the advantage over him right now, while he was dazed, but how long would that last?

  “Tell me where Valoel is and I’ll let you go.”

  “You… won’t…”

  “I will, because I’m not a dick and I keep my word.”

  “You… won’t… kill… me,” he growled.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this. There’s another way.”

  “No… other… way…” he spat at my feet. “Kill me, bitch. I… won’t… talk.”

  I watched him from where I stood, this monster of a man. Humans who looked at him would see a gargoyle made flesh; stone grey skin covered in whirling red marks, leathery wings, sharp teeth. They were supposed to be defenders, protectors, diligently keeping churches safe from danger. The irony that he was about to die on church grounds wasn’t lost me, but what choice did I have?

  He wasn’t going to speak, he wasn’t about to turn on his way of life, but I couldn’t just let him go… could I? if was to let him go, he’d just go back to hunting me. Or worse, he’d go and hunt someone else. On the other hand, he was the top dog of the Crimson Hunters. Putting him away was sure to destabilize the brotherhood and deal one hell of a blow to Valoel’s forces.

  I swallowed hard and flipped my knife around in my hand, holding it in reverse. Carefully I considered my options, steeling myself against what I was about to do. He was downed. He didn’t have a weapon in his hand. He was defenseless, and I was about to kill him with one quick knife-shot to the throat.

  Was this murder?

  I glanced across at his sword laying in the dirt. The thought of waiting for him to recover and giving him a chance to die in battle crossed my mind, but what if he beat me?

  “Do it,” he growled, “Prove to me that you have what it takes to do what you have to do.”

  Something slammed into me and tossed me aside like I was a rag doll. I flew several feet through the air and landed badly on a stony path. Another fiend? Fuck, that hurt. Not the fall, but the sledge-hammer that had hit me. Slowly I turned my head, at the same time forcing myself to stand and getting ready to fight. But there was no other fiend. There was no Valoel, no Crimson Hunters.

  “Bastet?” I called out.

  She wasn’t looking at me. Deliberately she marched toward Corax, one of her hands tracing glowing runes into the air, blue and grey smoke trailing behind her, her hair whipping around her face. Bastet was speaking, and while I couldn’t understand the words, I had heard something like it before. It was the day she’d magically stowed the golden stone in my armlet inside Fate’s chest.

  Corax stared at Bastet, his face and chest shining with blue light. She stopped before him, her right hand covered in bangles and bracelets still tracing runes in the air. I felt the wind kick up around me, leaves picking up and taking flight. The whispers stopped altogether, replaced by a deep rumble that seemed to start inside of my own chest.

  When Bastet was done tracing runes, she used both of her hands to open a strange looking jar she’d been holding, but the glowing sigils remained where they were. Corax’s eyes widened, his chest heaved, and all at once, a storm of red light erupted out of his body and started swirling around him. Instinct forced me to step away, to stand back, so I did, and I watched as the rippling cloud of sparkling, red mist funneled into Bastet’s jar.

  I realized what it was, then. A canopic jar. I’d heard about them before. It was like an urn, only it was made of gold, covered in Egyptian hieroglyphics, and instead of a cap it had a cat’s head. In ancient Egyptian burial practices, canopic jars were used to store the organs of dead people before they were buried. It was a spiritual thing. The Egyptians believed they’d need their organs in the afterlife, so they put them in these jars to keep them fresh. Not the heart, though. The heart was the seat of the soul, and that was kept inside a person’s body.

  Fate and I used to watch a lot of TV.

  It was over in seconds. As soon as Bastet slammed the lid onto the jar and sealed it, all of the smoke and the light evaporated. The wind returned to somethin
g a little more like normal. Corax’s body fell limply to the floor. As the seconds passed, it too started to crumble and wisp away. His grey skin turned to something like crushed crystal; a fine, glittering powder that even the evening breeze was able to pick up and carry off into the night.

  Soon, there was nothing left of his body, only the dust.

  I stared at Bastet, who grabbed her mason jar in both hands and watched the little red storm burning inside of it. “There, there,” she said, “You’ll be a lot more comfortable now.”

  “What the hell was that?” I asked.

  She turned to look at me. “You, on the other hand, are in big fucking trouble.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “What did I tell you before you left?” Bastet asked as she moved into her kitchen.

  “Don’t bring bad guys home,” I said, my head low, like a scolded child.

  Bastet opened a cabinet above her sink, one she kept closed all the time. Sometimes I thought I could hear bumps and knocks coming from inside, like there were cats trapped in there. There were no cats, though; only a whole bunch of mason jars. She picked one out, set it down on her kitchen counter, and then did something really weird.

  She poured Corax into the mason jar.

  I watched her unscrew the cap off the canopic jar and quite literally pour the red mist inside into the mason jar. When the transfer was complete, she screwed the lid back on the mason jar and moved it into the cabinet. The other jars started glowing, too. Green, blue, purple. Glittering smoke and light erupted from inside the other jars in the cabinet. Some of them started to jump around, knocking into other jars. “Be quiet, all of you,” she hissed, “None of you are getting out, remember?”

  “Are you ever going to tell me what’s in that thing?” I asked.

  She slid Corax’s jar inside and shut the door. Bastet then placed her palm against the door, and that brought a whole arrangement of invisible symbols to life. They glowed brightly for a moment, scarring my vision and leaving their mark on me even after they faded out again. Bastet moved away from the cabinet and crossed her arms when she looked at me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her so pissed.