I dove for the floor and slid full tilt into his legs. He pitched forward, catching himself on his hands. As he shoved up onto his knees, I threw myself at his chest, knocking him over backward.
With a sweep of my arms, I pulled the Carapace over us both.
He thudded into the ground and the amethyst fabric, shimmering with unfathomable power, settled gently over us. His crimson wings and horns dissolved into glittering specks that swirled into the sparkling fabric. The veins crawling over him faded as they too were drawn into the Carapace. Last of all, the glow in his left eye dimmed from burning red to the palest pink, then finally to ice white.
“Ezra?”
He didn’t react to my whisper, gazing blankly upward.
“Ezra?” I shook him gently, then with more force. “Ezra? Say something.”
Reaching over my shoulder, I grabbed the Carapace and flung it away. The fabric soared three feet and pooled gracefully amidst the rubble. I shook him again, his stare terrifyingly empty.
“Ezra, please answer me!” My voice broke. “Say something. Anything!”
His eyelids flickered. The faintest gleam in his left eye, and the pale pupil contracted in the dim light. His gaze turned to my face, and I knew. I knew at a glance it wasn’t Ezra looking at me.
He’d told me. Warned me. Eterran might survive it, but I won’t.
“Where is Ezra?” I demanded shrilly. “Give him back, Eterran!”
His mouth twisted.
“Give him back!” Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Give Ezra back right now! He’s there! You’re suppressing him again, but he’s still—he’s still there.”
For the first time in any of our interactions, Eterran broke eye contact with me. He looked away, but I’d already seen his pity.
“No!” I seized his face and forced his gaze back to mine. “If you want out of that body, Eterran, you’ll bring Ezra back! Right now! Bring him back and I swear I’ll free you!”
He considered me in silence, pain and exhaustion and things I couldn’t name swirling in that pale eye.
“I want freedom,” he whispered, a guttural accent tinging his words, “more than I want this body. I will try.”
He closed his eyes. His jaw tightened, muscles tensing beneath me, and he drew in a deep breath. Released it. Breathed in again. I couldn’t breathe at all, still holding his cheeks, his skin icy under my chilled fingers.
His chest rose again—and his eyes cracked open.
My fingers dug into his face. I didn’t dare to hope. Couldn’t stop myself from hoping anyway. “Ezra?”
A warm brown eye focused on my face, and his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Tori?” My name was a rough rasp in his throat, nothing like his usual silken voice—but it was him. It was him.
“Ezra!” A sob tore through me and I collapsed onto his chest, burying my face in his neck. “I thought you were gone. I thought you were gone!”
I clutched him, crying hoarsely and unable to stop. He wrapped his arms around me, his limbs trembling, devoid of strength.
“I thought you were dead,” he muttered into my hair, the words as unsteady as his arms. “I thought she killed you. I thought …”
My hands tightened on his shoulders, my whole body shaking.
Gravel crunched nearby. I jerked up with a gasp and my hysterical relief went cold.
Varvara bent down and pinched the Carapace between two fingers. She lifted a corner of the enchanted fabric. “So, this … is the Carapace of Valdurna.”
How? How had she survived that demonic unleashing? The ceiling was gone. All the yachts and equipment inside the building had been reduced to pebbles and scrap metal. Fissures zigzagged across the floor. Ezra’s magic had destroyed everything.
She lifted her hooded gaze to us. “Impressive, my darling demon mage. Now that you’ve been so thoroughly disarmed, I can find a better way to control all that power.”
Fury seared my innards—but my terror was stronger. I looked down at the hair elastic on my wrist where I’d tucked the Queen of Spades. The card was nestled exactly as I’d left it, but its rectangular face, where the regal Queen had sat with her scepter in hand and a mysterious smile on her lips … it was blank.
The Carapace had wiped it clean.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Varvara pointed her clawed fingers at me and Ezra. “Egeirai—”
The tiniest clink of a dislodged rock.
Her head snapped sideways, and she whipped her hand out, screaming, “Impello!”
Zak, leaping across the rubble with Lallakai’s wings sweeping out on either side of him, thrust his arm out, a black rune marking his palm. “Impello!”
The identical cantrips met with a boom. Zak soared through the rippling air and slammed into Varvara, his scarlet saber just missing her side. She hurled a potion to the floor and it erupted into a cloud of pink smoke. He reeled back, three crystals glowing on his chest, then charged into the opaque mist.
A clang of metal, Varvara shrieking an incantation, Zak’s furious snarl—but I wasn’t watching.
“Tori?” Ezra whispered.
Sprawled half on his chest, I stared at my Queen of Spades card.
Gone.
The card’s face was blank, the spell inside it gone, and I felt naked. The Queen had been my first artifact, my first ally in battle. She’d been with me for every fight, my ace in the hole, my literal trump card. She’d fended off mages, sorcerers, demons, golems. Every time I’d needed her, she’d been there to save my butt.
Now she was gone, erased by the Carapace’s magic.
I’d had no time to remove my artifacts before donning the cloak. A single second’s delay would’ve meant my death—and Ezra’s. I’d known what I was sacrificing when I pulled the Carapace from my pocket, but seeing it …
The crystals hanging from my wrist clinked together, dull and mundane. The brass knuckles were no more than brass. Even the potions in my paintball gun had been rendered impotent.
For the first time since I’d picked up the Queen of Spades in that back alley across from my brother’s apartment, I was magicless.
I wrapped my arms around Ezra and buried my face in his shoulder, shielding him as I hid from the bursts of power, the clang of weapons, the sizzle of magic. Strange odors singed my nose as Zak and Varvara unleashed spell after potion after spell. Their voices rang out with incantations.
Two dark-arts masters, nothing left to fight with but their own skills.
Varvara screamed, and I dragged my head up.
High above us, the full moon shone down through the shattered roof, silvery light streaking the smoke that hung over the battle arena. Colorful liquids splattered the broken floor and hunks of collapsed ceiling. One piece of concrete bubbled, the steam rising in bizarre corkscrews.
Still screaming, Varvara clutched her wrist to her chest—the bloody stump of her wrist, her hand gone. Scrabbling in the front of her coat, she flung a glittering artifact away from her, howling the incantation.
Zak braced his arm and his yellow fae shield popped outward, spanning his full height. Lances of shiny fuchsia power impaled his shield, their points inches from his body. He cast his arm out, banishing the shield and the spell it had halted, and leaped closer, blade swinging.
She spat an incantation, and a shimmer of darkness appeared in the path of his sword. The scarlet blade, able to cut through steel, bounced off. He recovered and slashed again, but more Latin fell from her lips. Over and over, as fast as he could strike, she called a spell to stop him.
As he lunged furiously, his blade skidded across a patch of dark magic and he took a step too close.
She surged toward him and raked her steel claws down his forearm—tearing through his druid tattoos. His saber burst into shards of light and he stumbled backward.
“Ori tuum da mihi pectus,” she screamed triumphantly as she reached for him, a dark disc in her grip, “tuum iam—”
He pulled a serrated dagger from t
he sheath on his thigh and rammed the blade into her chest.
The air behind the sorceress shimmered. In a swirl of raven hair, Lallakai appeared, her full red lips smiling—and only then did I realize the feather tattoos were missing from Zak’s arms. She leaned over Varvara’s shoulder as the sorceress gaped at Zak, shock in her eyes.
“You lose,” the darkfae whispered into the silence.
Zak ripped the blade out of his enemy. As she fell back, he threw the dagger aside and grabbed her by the throat with both hands. Teeth bared, he lifted her, bringing her face close to his, her feet brushing the ground.
“I told you,” he rasped, “I would watch you die while you choked on your own blood.”
The muscles in his arms tautened, and a horrible crunch echoed through the demolished building. A spasm shook her body, a strangled whimper escaping her crushed throat.
“One death isn’t enough.” He stared into her eyes. “You could die a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough.”
She scraped at his wrist with her remaining hand, wheezing with pain and terror, her legs thrashing. Zak didn’t move, his arms steady as he held her by the throat, the seconds dragging. Her movements grew more frantic, then slowed. Her arms fell to her sides, and with a final hoarse gurgle, she went still.
Even then, he didn’t move. Lallakai, standing a few steps away, smiled as she observed her druid.
A slow breath slid from him, then he opened his hands. The sorceress’s body hit the floor in a graceless heap. He studied his defeated enemy for a moment more, then walked into the rubble. Stooping, he searched through the crumbling concrete. After a minute, he straightened, brushed the dust off his grimoire, and tucked it into a pocket.
His green eyes, human and exhausted, turned to mine.
Evidence of the violent struggle he’d survived was written all over him. Blood ran down his face from a cut across his cheek. More slices raked his torso, his shirt in tatters. Burns singed one shoulder. His belt was nearly empty of vials, his spelled crystals dark. Only one fae rune remained on his left forearm, and his right was a mess, blood obscuring the remaining tattoos.
Ignoring Lallakai, he started toward me.
I looked down. Ezra watched me, his fatigue a thousand times worse than Zak’s—and made worse by the anguished despair lurking in the back of his gaze. Ezra knew he’d reached the precipice. Knew that, for a few minutes, he’d fallen into the madness he’d feared for almost a decade.
He had survived the night, but at what cost?
I touched his cheek. “Wait here.”
He smiled. It was faint, shallow, tinged with sorrow, but somehow, he still smiled for me. “I don’t think I can stand, so sure.”
Two more tears leaked from my eyes as I brushed a gentle kiss across his lips. Then I pushed myself up, rubbed the tears from my cheeks, and faced the druid.
He stopped five long steps from me, subtle wariness in his expression. I peered into his eyes, searching for the one thing I needed to see.
“You killed her.” I pointed at the sorceress’s body. “With your own two hands, just like you wanted.”
He flicked a glance at his slain foe, then looked back to me.
“Are you satisfied?” I fought to keep the words steady. “Was it worth it, Zak?”
“I avenged the lives I needed to avenge.”
A tremor ran through me from head to toe, and I searched his eyes one more time, but no matter how hard I looked, I saw no regret. My jaw quivered but I fought back the sob.
He rolled his shoulders. “Don’t give me that look. My plan all along was to kill Varvara before she could escape with Ezra. I had no idea he’d lose it like that.”
“I told you he was almost out of time,” I said hoarsely, the tremor condensing in my chest. “I told you he was losing control.”
“I still didn’t know that would happen.”
“What about the others? Aaron and Kai? My guild?” My hands clenched into fists. “You told Varvara our whole plan and let them walk into a trap.”
“I misled her about your numbers. She was expecting half their force. They could handle it.”
“Handle it?” My composure broke, my voice rising. “Handle it? You have no idea! No idea what Varvara set up, what they had to fight! You said yourself she could anticipate anything! You have no idea whether they’re still alive!”
His scowl deepened. “Tori—”
“Was it worth it?” The question burst out of me in a scream. “Was killing her with your bare hands worth everything you lost? Was avenging lives already gone worth destroying the ones still left? Was getting everything you wanted worth betraying me?”
“I told you—”
“You put everyone I love at risk!” My voice, my scream, was so loud it hurt my ears. “My guild, my friends, Aaron, Kai, Ezra! You lied to us and tricked us! You put us all in danger so you could kill someone who’d have died anyway when MagiPol executed her!”
“If they ex—”
“Aaron and Kai could be dead! Sin is out there too! Everyone—”
“If Aaron and Kai are dead, then they weren’t half the mages they pretended to be.”
His words hit me like blows, interrupting my burning fury. No regret. No apology. Was he that determined to feel no remorse? Was he that certain everything he’d done had been necessary … or did he just not care about the lives he’d endangered?
I looked down at my wrist and the blank face of my Queen of Spades artifact. I’d run into an explosion of demonic power to save Ezra, sacrificing my only magic to reach him. I had put my life on the line again and again to save my friends, because that’s what friends did.
“We were never friends,” I whispered.
“I know.”
Instead of the annoyance I’d expected, his words were quiet and bitter.
“We could’ve been friends. If you’d opened up even a little. If you’d trusted me.”
He gazed at me, expressionless. Silence stretched between us.
Turning, I walked through the debris to the Carapace. I carefully folded the material, then returned to the druid. Taking his hand, his skin streaked with blood and dirt, I pressed the fabric square into his cantrip-marked palm and held it there.
His fingers closed tight around the artifact. “Tori—”
“I risked my life for you, Zak.” I held on to his hand, unable to look up and see his remorseless eyes again. “I trusted you with everything that mattered to me, with everyone I love, and they trusted you because I did. I would’ve been your loyal friend, even if you’re a mean dickhead and kind of scary sometimes.”
Releasing his hand, I stepped back. “But you chose your revenge instead. I hope it was worth it.”
His eyes widened at my tone. My fury was gone, and I’d whispered the words with miserable resignation.
It didn’t matter if grief and fury had clouded his judgment. It didn’t matter if he’d had a plan. It didn’t matter if he’d thought everything would work out just fine in the end. I wouldn’t allow someone in my life who was willing to risk my loved ones for his own goals. Someone who would hurt us, betray us, for selfish ambitions.
“Don’t come back,” I whispered, my voice breaking, “until … or unless … you decide it wasn’t worth it.”
As I turned away from him, my eyes met Lallakai’s. Standing nearby, with her arms folded and a hip cocked, she ran the tip of her pink tongue across her lips.
My breath shuddered out as I walked back to Ezra. He’d managed to sit up, but his shoulders were hunched, his eyes closed and his normally bronze skin pale with exhaustion so deep it was closer to an illness. The Carapace had drained every iota of his magic—and his strength.
Kneeling beside him, I put my arm around his shoulders. His eyelids fluttered.
Silence. I could feel Zak’s attention on me. Unable to stop myself, I looked back.
He stood where I’d left him, hands fisted at his sides. His chest heaved, his eyes burning—but not with r
age. Behind him, Lallakai uncrossed her arms, her face hardening with displeasure.
Opening his mouth to speak, Zak took a step toward me.
Fire exploded out of the shadows.
Lallakai sprang forward. Her arms swept around Zak, and with a flick of her slender hand, she sent a wave of shadow crashing into the oncoming fire. Another flick of her fingers and the bolt of lightning leaping for Zak’s chest burst apart, the branching electricity diving for the ground.
Shadowy wings unfurled from her back. Green eyes glowing, she looked straight into my face, mouthed a single word, and folded her wings around Zak. The last thing I saw before he disappeared in a shimmer of fading shadows was the intensity in his eyes dousing with bitter resignation. He and the fae vanished.
“No!” His shout echoing off the walls, Aaron charged out of the darkness. Fire sparked off his hands. “Where did he go? Damn it!”
A few steps behind him, Kai jogged into view. Twiggy hung from his shoulders, crystalline eyes wide. Katana in hand, the electramage turned in a circle, then gave his head a sharp shake. “They’re gone.”
Aaron swore furiously.
Sheathing his sword, Kai turned to me. So did Aaron. Smudged with soot. Torn, dirty clothes and scuffed gear. Splattered with blood, marred with scrapes.
But alive. Unhurt. Mostly unhurt. Good enough.
As I heaved myself to my feet, they rushed to meet me. Aaron scooped me against his chest, and Kai brushed a hand over my hair before kneeling beside Ezra. Arms banded around my shoulders, Aaron gave me a comforting squeeze—and I yelped as a truckload of pain hit me all at once, every part of my body in sudden agony.
“Sorry.” Hands on my shoulders, Aaron took a step back. “Are you hurt? Where …” His gaze zoomed down me, and his face went white. “Holy shit! Kai!”
Kai was at our side in an instant. “What?”
“She’s covered in blood!”
My eyebrows scrunched confusedly. Blood? Was I hurt?
Aaron tugged my zipper down and Kai peeled my jacket off. Punctures across my torso leaked blood all down my shirt.
Oh. Right.
Druid Vices and a Vodka: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Six Page 27
