Shadow and Ice (Gods of War)

by Gena Showalter

  Wow. What a silver lining.

  She could finally talk to Zion about Nola—

  False. One, she couldn’t trust him to impart truth. And two, she didn’t want to confirm Nola’s importance to her, encouraging others to use the girl as bait.

  “Do not engage Bane unless he challenges you,” Knox said. “But if you can, stab him. Maybe there’s enough poison dried on your sword to stop him from transforming into a beast and shredding us like paper.”

  “If he’s so strong in beast mode, why doesn’t he just transform and kill us all?”

  “He can’t wear his goggles in beast form, and without them, he’s vulnerable to light and easily blinded. I also suspect he has a secret agenda, that he wants this war to continue for an unknown reason. During the first four assemblies, he sat on the sidelines, yawning as others fought, daring someone to attack him. The three who accepted the invitation died badly.”

  “Peachy.”

  “In former wars, I killed the Adwaewethians last, because they are excellent trackers, and they can slay multiple combatants at once, hurrying the war along.”

  She frowned. “A risky move. The more combatants they kill, the more their arsenals grow.”

  “Yes, but in my second war, I was anxious to return to Minka. For the others, I was anxious to win my freedom. This time, I’d hoped Zion would challenge Bane, and Bane would rip off his gloved hands. With you added to the equation, I think it’s time to remedy the situation.” He stroked his chin. “High emotion can trigger Bane’s transformation, whether he wants to beast-out or not. But whatever you do, do not—I repeat—do not kill him. If you were to absorb the beast...”

  Her blood flash-froze, her limbs quaking. “I can’t overstate this enough, but I absolutely, positively do not want to morph into a dragon on steroids. Like, ever.”

  “For that matter,” Knox added, “try not to kill anyone. You can’t afford to drown in a new flood of memories.”

  She gulped. Fight, but don’t kill. Stab Bane, but don’t get mauled or eaten. There was too much room for error. “If I use Celeste’s invisibility or intangibility, most people will blame your shadows, like Erik and Adonis did. Ranger’s streams of fire are a different story. They’ll realize I can absorb their abilities.”

  “They will.” No sugarcoating. Not with Foxy Knoxie.

  “I’ll be target number one, won’t I? More wanted than Erik.”

  He nodded, expression grim. “Until the assembly ends, no one will strike at us. But we won’t be able to strike at others, either, no matter how badly they taunt us, or we’ll be disqualified. And we don’t want to be disqualified. Also, when the battle begins, don’t think you have to fight everyone at once. The herd will thin. Some combatants will run off, and others will pursue. The ones who stay in the clearing are determined to take a head or two.”

  Was she ready for this? No. Did she have a choice? No, again. But that was life. “If Colt runs, we’ll follow?”

  “No. We’re running, period. If an opportunity presents itself on the way out of the clearing, I’ll kill Colt. Or Carrick. Or both. But our objective is simple—fight our way out of the circle as quickly as possible. I’ll hide you with my shadows as best I can. If you need to use your abilities in order to survive, use them, don’t hesitate, and we’ll deal with the fallout later.”

  “If I can use them while I’m jacked with adrenaline.” The unpredictability of her skills sucked.

  “If it’s a matter of life and death, you can and you will because you must. Understand? Once we’re far enough away from the combatants, I’ll open a rift to an island hideaway. From there, we’ll return to the bunker, recover from whatever injuries we received, then go after Colt.”

  “Have you ever run from an after-assembly party before?”

  A muscle jumped under his eye. “No.”

  “And have you ever found Colt or Carrick outside of an assembly?”

  Another grated, “No.”

  “Then you’re not running tonight unless we’re chasing Colt. Okay? All right? We’re playing the long game here. To get Carrick’s dagger, you need Colt’s ring.”

  Knox of Iviland would not die a slave.

  Don’t want him to die, ever.

  “If we’re not moving forward,” she added, “we’re falling behind.”

  Knox thought for a moment, nodded. “Very well. We’ll chase Colt. You need only to survive—without making a kill—until we’re home. I’ll do the rest.”

  She leaned into him and pressed her forehead to his chest. “You’re sexy when you go full he-man, you know that?” A flippant response tinged with hysteria, and a perfect display of the overinflated arrogance she’d cultivated as a teen, a protective measure to safeguard her heart whenever she was forcibly ejected from a foster home.

  He kissed the top of her head before sliding his knuckles along her jawline and lifting her head. Gaze earnest, he said, “Whatever happens, I will do everything in my power to protect you, valina. You will not die today.”

  She believed him. He was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. “Thank you. I’ve got your back, too.”

  He hugged her close, currents of electricity bouncing between them, fueled by uncertainty and urgency.

  It was time.

  Tense and silent, he drew back, took her hand and opened a shadowy rift. Instantly, icy winds blustered into the bunker, making Vale’s teeth chatter.

  Head high, she marched through the doorway, side by side with Knox. The second they bypassed the curtain of shadows, mountains came into view. Her personal hell. Shards of ice danced on the wind. The sun was setting, golden rays illuminating an endless sea of white.

  The rift closed, and Knox led her to the edge of a cliff, where they stood, surveying the war zone.

  The last time she’d been here, she’d worn a coat and thermals, and hypothermia had almost killed her, anyway. Now she wore only a T-shirt and pants, but the cold wasn’t nearly as biting. Immortality had its perks, she supposed.

  But then, immortality also had its drawbacks. Soon she would be face-to-face with the people she was supposed to kill—the people determined to kill her. Vale looked down...down...and there they were. The other combatants. Mostly men, a few women. One black-robed Enforcer.

  Everyone stood side by side, forming a circle, staring at each other and probably trash-talking. The last vestiges of the prison had been removed, the fractures Zion had caused with his gloves filled.

  “Four combatants are missing,” Knox said.

  “Fingers crossed they’re dead,” she muttered, hating the coldhearted person she was becoming.

  Today’s slogan: I’m screaming on the inside.

  “When the battle begins, part of you will want to open a rift to evade the action. Don’t,” he instructed. “Others will follow you through it. You shouldn’t open one until you’re at least a mile away.”

  “Noted.”

  “Last piece of advice,” he said, peering down at her. “I will remain beside you in the clearing, but I will be emotionally distant. I don’t want Erik, Adonis and Rush—or anyone—to know what you’ve come to—” He pressed his lips together, and her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

  He’d stopped himself from saying she meant something to him, hadn’t he?

  What do I mean to him?

  She cleared her throat. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the emotional stinky boot, too. For the good of our cause, of course. I’m sweet like that.”

  He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles and her wrist, and she had to lock her knees to stop them from buckling.

  “I’ve always liked your armor,” he said.

  A mere five words, and yet they meant more to her than any compliment about beauty or smarts. Those words told her Knox understood her in a way few others ever had. When times got tough, Vale London got sna
rky. A defense mechanism to help her cope. And he liked it.

  “Knox,” she said.

  “Yes, valina.”

  She patted his chest. “I like your armor, too.”

  A flare of joy illuminated his cobalt eyes, only to be extinguished by alarm. With a final kiss, this one on her lips, he let her go.

  “I’m going to head down now,” he said. “Follow directly behind me. Stay close.”

  “Wait. Shouldn’t I delay my arrival? I don’t want to show up right on your heels.”

  “One of the missing warriors could be out here, planning an ambush. I want you within range of me at all times.”

  Okay, then. Right behind him it is.

  And oh, crap, soon she would be smack-dab in the middle of a Temple-of-Doom-type situation. This was real. This was happening.

  Never let them see you sweat. Fake it till you make it.

  He began his descent down the side of the mountain, and the fact that he trusted her at his back a true miracle.

  Vale maintained a sickly distance. That was a thing, right? A healthy distance meant far away. Therefore a sickly distance meant close up, and dang it! Panic was making her stupid.

  She tried not to let her mind wander to other inane details...

  Her mind wandered.

  Maybe Erik and his boys would think Knox broke up with her, maybe not. The odds were 50/50. Or 40/60. She was now a combatant, and Knox’s distrust and disdain for his foes was notorious.

  Potential problem: she couldn’t hide the fact that she had the hots for Knox. Anytime she caught sight of him, her heart seemed to tap-dance to the beat of hubba hubba. And she couldn’t cast blame. The guy exuded primal aggression, his muscles rippling with every movement.

  No man had ever looked so dangerously delicious. Forget Lucky Charms. He was Lethal Charms.

  Closing in on the warriors... Her limbs started quaking again.

  One by one, her enemies turned to eye her up and down, and take her measure. Judging by their expressions, they found her lacking.

  So what? Jerks! She would—

  Electric pulses raced from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, startling her. At the same time, the ends of her fingers cooled, as if a switch had been flipped inside her. From ON to OFF. She’d just passed the invisible wall, hadn’t she?

  Now she was well and truly trapped.

  Don’t you dare freak out.

  A tall, blond man with a wealth of tattoos smiled at Knox, his violet eyes glimmering with wicked humor.

  She recognized him. This was the infamous Carrick.

  He spoke in a language she didn’t understand, but Knox clearly did. He turned as rigid as stone.

  “How about you share with the rest of the class,” she said, batting her lashes.

  Carrick answered in kind, saying, “I told the murk I didn’t realize this was bring your whore to work day.”

  “What makes you think we’re sleeping together?” she asked with an easy tone. “And guess what, whore isn’t exactly an insult to my way of thinking. You just implied I like sex and money. Big deal. I do.” What did murk mean, though? “Oh, and good news. This whore is trolling for customers. Tonight is the grand opening of Vale’s Little House of Slays, and you’re all invited. I give good beheadings. Free of charge.”

  Snickers only egged her on, and she decided to take this opportunity to introduce herself properly. With an overconfident wave, she said, “Happy to be here and super-duper excited to get to know everyone a little better...before I kill you. Oh! BTW, Celeste and Ranger send their regards.”

  Gasps of disbelief abounded, and Knox gave her the look. Oops. Was she supposed to keep those details quiet? Had she just made herself an even bigger target?

  Well, what other choice had she had? Predators preyed on the weak, and she had to appear strong.

  Voices called out. “No way, no how.”

  “This little princess did not kill Ranger. There’s just no way.”

  Yes, keep underestimating me. Please.

  The one she recognized as Bane said, “I’m guessing Knox teed up the bodies and let the lil miss deliver the final blow.”

  She flipped him off and scanned the crowd, searching for the black-haired Zion. Dang, he was one of the missing. If he’d gotten killed, Nola could have gotten killed, too, and—

  No! Vale wouldn’t think that way or she’d break down.

  Erik winked at her. Adonis and Rush eyed her with curiosity, and maybe a little regret that they hadn’t taken her out while they’d had the chance.

  Screw you, gentlemen.

  A man with a whip entered the circle. Three missing.

  Next came a man with green hair. Him—Colt, the one with the microbots. Their target. He kept his gaze on the ground, his expression blank.

  Good guy? Bad guy?

  Don’t go there. She had a job to do.

  A third male entered the circle, and conversations momentarily ceased. Zion. Finally. She stared hard, trying to read him, but his dark gaze purposely avoided her.

  “You’re the one who ran off with the other human, isn’t that right, Zion?” The tall blond flashed another wicked grin. “Didn’t you get the memo? You were supposed to bring her here for our enjoyment.”

  Zion crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry I couldn’t oblige. I killed her when I was done with her.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ZION’S ANNOUNCEMENT SENT a shock wave through Knox. He wasn’t sure how he found the strength to plant his feet and remain rooted in place, not committing cold-blooded murder.

  {Harness your rage. The girl’s death doesn’t matter.}

  The eyaer—Knox ground his teeth. Earlier, when Vale had told him about Gunnar’s sword, his survival instinct had pretty much sighed with relief. The time had come. She’d outlived her usefulness, and she was no longer necessary.

  The eyaer had demanded Knox kill her.

  The instinct had wanted a way to sever ties with Ansel, and she had provided one. When she’d explained the healing properties of Gunnar’s sword, Knox had realized how valuable and dangerous the weapon was, and how it could help him. That was why he’d left it in the bunker.

  The eyaer operated on a subconscious level, picking up cues his mind missed. After predicting the likelihood of Vale joining the war, his instinct must have sensed her memory-stealing ability and guessed she would supply information that wasn’t available any other way.

  Information he hadn’t yet unpacked to his satisfaction.

  The ramifications she’d mentioned... They presented a whole new set of problems. Using Gunnar’s sword to heal a wound, any wound, would bind Knox to the metal. If that bond proved stronger than the taint of slave ink, Ansel would no longer have power over him, but still Knox would be enslaved. Whoever owned the sword would control his actions.

  Maintaining ownership of the sword would be imperative. If someone stole it from him, he might long for the days he’d served Ansel.

  Can’t risk it.

  {Kill Vale. Soon. The danger of her ability outweighs the aid she offers.}

  To the eyaer, nothing mattered more than Knox’s survival. He just couldn’t bring himself to hurt Vale.

  He studied her. She had paled, horror seeping from every pore. Needing to comfort her, he reached behind her, under her shirt, and curled his hand on the waist of her pants. Holding on to her had the added bonus of preventing an attack against Zion.

  When tears streamed down her cheeks, he took a menacing step toward the male. Very little had the power to break his valina, but the Taverian had found her weak spot.

  Why had Zion killed a sick, innocent girl? And why had Bane fallen to his knees, thrown back his head, and roared up at the night sky, as if he mourned the girl’s loss?

  “Ohhhh. Z decided to play nasty
.” Emberelle grinned with chilling calculation. “It’s about time.”

  Thorn said, “He’s lying. I’d bet my soul on it.”

  “Brag about offing a mortal?” Bold of Mörder shook his head. “That isn’t exactly something to lie about. There’s no upside.”

  Lying. Yes. Zion had to be lying. He’d won three All Wars without slaying a female. Why start now?

  “She told me not to believe Z, so I won’t believe Z,” Vale whispered, rocking back and forth on her heels.

  Ignore your curiosity.

  Impossible. Who was she?

  Mind whirling, he watched the sun disappear behind a mountaintop. Above, green and purple lights flickered to life in the sky. Seven glided to the center of the circle and lodged his scythe in the ice, sparks spraying from the metal.

  Check-in had officially begun.

  Glowering at everyone, Knox took stock. One warrior was still missing. Union of Kerris, who possessed an ability to manipulate reality with illusions. He’d owned a belt that doubled the wearer’s strength. Good riddance.

  Now, only nineteen combatants stood between Knox and victory. Eighteen enemies, and a single ally.

  Vale went quiet, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, displaying nothing but determination. Knox had never been so proud.

  Bane breathed with great heaves, projecting dark rage at Zion.

  “Who killed Union?” Emberelle asked.

  Wind whistled, but no one spoke up. And no one wore the belt, which would have given the killer a major advantage.

  “If he’s trapped somewhere,” Bold said, “he’s disqualified. Seven will get the kill, the belt no longer up for grabs.”

  “Who killed Orion on Liberation Day?” Ryder of Belusova patted the motorized axes that hung from hooks at his waist. “Oh, yeah. I did.”

  “Forget the dead,” Carrick said. “What are we going to do about our Terran challengers?”

  Frost glinting in his beard, Erik glided forward, Cannon’s rod clutched in his hand. Though Knox’s translator told him that he’d spoken ancient Norse all those centuries ago, today the man used Vale’s language, modern English. “This is your chance, your only chance, to join me. While you were trapped, I used my freedom to my advantage. The measures I’ve taken to ensure victory are vast. I’ve done things you can’t imagine. Things you can’t protect yourself against.”