She surveyed the cuts on her hands. They weren’t deep, but they stung. To minimize further damage, she jumped the last four feet, landed in a tuck, rolled to her feet, and sprinted after the tail end of one of the companies just disappearing into the prison. Fionn and Rune were nowhere in sight. Maybe she’d find them inside. She knew better than to use her mind voice to call. If one of them was sore pressed in battle, that single moment where their thoughts diverted to her might mean their death.
The terror she’d locked in a corner of her mind wanted out. She stuffed it untidily back away. Not now. Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t have time to get water from her rucksack. She passed under the archway and scanned a large interior room, blinking in the dim light. It seemed she was alone. Which way had everyone gone? How the hell had they cleared out so fast?
Feeling an off-key vibration low in her spine, she warded herself and spun hard to one side. Something was targeting her, but what? Christ! After all my big talk to Dewi, how could I not have warded myself? Breath rattled in her chest. She pivoted her head from side to side, Mage senses wide open. If she was the only one here, who was trying to kill her? Aislinn looked harder, using tricks Fionn and Dewi had taught her.
There. In that corner. Like the Bal’ta, but more so, sat a blackness that swallowed everything. Impossibly high, not far from what had to be a ten-foot ceiling, a pair of red eyes glowed. Whatever it was, its head must be huge, since the eyes were a foot-and-a-half apart. Aislinn bit back panic. She swallowed hard and wondered if it was Slototh. Then she knew it had to be. For some unknown reason, he’d let everyone else race past him. She eyed one of three openings at the far end of the room and then looked back at the door she’d come through, but the dark god moved and blocked her egress that way.
Pulling invisibility, she sidled away from him.
“I can still see you.” Laughter, deep and raucous, filled the air.
Fear sank sharp teeth into her belly. She ran for the far end of the room, lungs on fire with effort. Almost there. Not much more. The doorway she’d been heading toward slammed shut in her face, and she skidded to a halt, panting.
Okay. Escape isn’t an option. Turning, she faced the spot that drew darkness. “What do you want with me?”
“I could ask you the same thing, human. Why am I suddenly host to four Celtic gods, a dragon, and humans, all hell-bent on destroying me?”
She drew herself up tall. “Because we want you to go back to the world you came from before the Surge.”
More laughter. The temperature in the room plummeted. Ice chips rattled down on her. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep warm, trying to think. Because Slototh was the god of filth, she’d expected rancid odors, slime, and debris. Maybe Gwydion had made a mistake, and this was one of the others.
“You got it right the first time,” Slototh said once he’d stopped laughing. “I am the god of all that is discarded. Filth and slime are common misperceptions. Why, I even have some things of yours,” he added slyly.
“Like what? How could you possibly have anything of mine?”
“Try your hopes and dreams. The ones that shattered three years ago. I have the future you had hoped for. Your husband and the children that will never be.” He made a snuffling sound that might have been a chuckle. “I have everyone’s, of course, but I have enjoyed yours far more than most. What a treat that you have delivered yourself to me. You have saved me a great deal of trouble finding you.”
The blackness shifted. If felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room. Her lungs ached. She clutched at her throat. Just when she was certain she was going to pass out, a man stepped out of the darkness, and air returned to the room.
“I suppose I should have warned you. I am so used to it, I do not even think about it.” He paused. “I thought you might like me better this way.” The man standing before her was every bit as gorgeous as Perrikus or D’Chel. He had gleaming black hair, dark blue eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a strong jaw. A cream-colored linen shirt clung to the muscled lines of his chest and shoulders. A pair of crisply pressed black slacks snugged around slender hips. He wore expensive-looking leather loafers. A pale blue sweater was slung over one shoulder. He could have passed for a male model or a movie star.
Dewi was right. I should have stayed with her. Aislinn waited for a jolt of sexual energy, for the lust that would bring her to her knees, but it didn’t come.
“Well,” she stared defiantly at the man before her, “aren’t you going to try to seduce me where I stand, like Perrikus and D’Chel?”
He smiled. It was a beautiful smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle with delight. “Oh no, my dear. What would be the sport in that? I prefer my women to beg for me. It ruins things if I have cheated. They spread their legs, but I know they did not really want to.” Something feral gleamed in the back of his eyes, but it extinguished itself so fast that she wasn’t certain she’d seen it.
He held out a hand. “Coming?”
“That depends. Where are you taking me?”
“It will be a surprise.”
Aislinn shook her head. “I’m not into surprises.”
Something rippled across those perfect features, but Slototh got control of himself. “I could take you anywhere I wanted, with or without your permission.”
“Okay.” She stared right at him. “I’m waiting.” Aislinn fanned magic around herself. She reached for Dewi and felt the dragon link to her, seeing through her eyes. Shock and outrage surged from the dragon, and then power poured into her so fast that Aislinn wasn’t sure what to do with it all. She raised her hands, surprised to see flames shoot from the tips of her fingers. Then she realized the link to Dewi was a two-way street. Secrets roiled through the dragon’s mind. Aislinn wanted to dig deep, to know what Devi knew. Instead, she borrowed the dragon’s power to reinforce her warding.
She danced from side to side on the balls of her feet, taking in her adversary. “Come and get me,” she snarled.
“Never forget you asked.” The voice was silky smooth, radiating danger. “Before we are through, you will discard a few more things for my collection.”
The air shifted again. Slototh, back in his light-sucking form, closed the distance between them. Fire didn’t faze him. She threw all the magic she had at him. It bounced off and sizzled when it hit the stone floor. She tried to dart behind him, to run outside to Dewi and freedom.
He grabbed her as she ran past, plucked her off the ground, and raised her so his red eyes could bore into her. “Your wards are a joke. So is that thing out there. You are coming with me. Enough games.”
Fire roared through the arched doorway where Dewi tried to cram her bulk inside. The flames just danced around Slototh, as if they were afraid to touch him. Filled with helpless rage that twisted her stomach into knots, Aislinn ground her teeth together. There’s got to be a way out of this. But what?
A pressure differential made her ears hurt. Her skin burned with icy heat where Slototh held her. They came out in a large room. She saw an enormous bed next to one wall and an array of things that looked like medieval torture devices along another. In places, the floor was splattered red. Before she could take in any more, he dropped her. She tried to tuck her body together, but landed wrong. Pain shot up one arm. Aislinn curled onto her side, wondering if she’d broken anything. Her gaze lit on a rack, complete with pawls and bars. She shuddered.
“Get up.”
“What if I refuse?”
Pain ratcheted through her. It felt as if her skull was about to explode. She staggered to her feet. When she hunted for the link to Dewi, it was gone.
“That’s better. Your dragon pest cannot penetrate the wards around this room. By the time I am through with you, the little war you foisted off on me should be over.”
“How? You’re n
ot there to run it, and the Bal’ta aren’t smart enough.” Maybe if I can keep him talking, I’ll think of something I can do.
“Remember the labyrinth?”
She nodded.
“I built one here. The Celts and their stupid human sheep followers should be good and lost by now. They’ll be lucky to find their way out in a hundred years. By then, everyone will have starved to death.”
“They can use magic.”
“It will boomerang right back at them. Funny acoustics in the labyrinth. That Minotaur was crazy, but smart as a whip. I took his ideas and did them one better.” Slototh inclined his head. For one bizarre moment, he looked like an emcee at an awards ceremony. “The Minotaur is here. He liked the idea of fresh food. It has been a long while since anyone thought to send him human sacrifices.” The dark god sighed. “I miss the old days. Things were so much…easier.”
He morphed back into man form. The transformation sucked all the air out of the room again. She gagged, but maybe because she was expecting it, she didn’t have the same sense of being half suffocated this time.
His eyes gleamed as he looked at her. “Take your clothes off. They’ll just be in the way.”
What do I have to lose? Pulling every ounce of magic she could summon, Aislinn heaved it at him. When it didn’t do much other than bring a surprised look to his face, rather like he welcomed a challenge, she glanced about. Desperation burned through her. If magic wouldn’t do it, maybe something else would. An iron rod leaned against the wall next to the rack. She lunged for it and swung at him, connecting with his neck.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The crack sounded loud against the silence of the room. Not waiting to see if she’d hurt him, Aislinn swung again. This time, the bar thunked against warding. Shit! She used her Mage gift to blast a hole and drove the rod through right behind her magic. Iridescent blood spewed out, steaming and hissing where it contacted the stone floor.
Slototh bared his teeth. The sound of his breathing, ragged and breathy, eddied between them. His human form shimmered.
Nooooo! She was sure he was more vulnerable as a human. She did not want him back in beast mode. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She pulled her top up, exposing herself. “Don’t change back.”
“What? You like it rough?” A knowing smile spread across his face. “Never would have guessed that from your discards.”
She managed to nod. The wound she’d opened in his neck was closing rapidly. She wondered if she could hurt him enough to buy herself time to jump out of there. He walked toward her, flexing his hands. She forced herself to keep her breasts out. Anything to bring him within reach again.
“Drop that piece of iron.”
Dredging up what she hoped would pass for a genuine smile, she let go of it. The rod clanked loudly as it clattered to the floor.
He closed a hand over one breast, twisted the nipple, and then lowered his head to bite down on it. She felt his warding fall when he touched her. Excitement thrummed through her, but she batted it aside—and waited. She’d have to pick her moment carefully. If she blew it, she wouldn’t get a second chance. His mouth moved to the other breast, then to her mouth. Blood, hot and salty, flowed where he bit into her lips. She ignored the pain and focused her mind.
The cadence of his breathing increased. Something huge and hard as stone pressed into her stomach. His cock. Christ, it felt as if it was two feet long. She tried to twist away, but he just bit harder. Shoving both hands between them, she closed her fingers around his shaft. She dug into it as hard as she could. He bucked against her, obviously enjoying the hell out of what would have reduced any other man to shrieks of agony.
Her lungs smarted from the effort of fighting him. She tried to knee his balls. Anticipating her, he kicked her leg aside, doubled up a fist, and punched her full in the face. It sounded like a cannon went off inside her head, and she felt the bones crack in one cheek. More blood filled her mouth. She spit it out, gasping for air.
Slototh was done toying with her. She didn’t think she had much time left before he finished her off. Reaching deep, she channeled her pain and despair into anger. Magic hurtled out, aimed for his carotid artery. She gave it everything she had, willing the walled vessel to burst. Her exhilaration when she felt it rupture was heady. I haven’t won yet. The bastard might be able to Heal himself.
He leapt back from her, a horrified expression on his face, and clapped a hand to the side of his neck. “You bitch,” he snarled. “You fucking bitch.”
She felt him grope for his beast form. Can’t let that happen. Weaving fire and air, she built walls around him, praying they’d hold, that he wouldn’t just shatter them with a thought. His throat was swelling visibly because there was nowhere for all that blood to go. How long did it take a human body to bleed out? Eight minutes? Ten? How long would it take him? Aislinn added reinforcements to the barrier keeping him in his human body. Her breath rasped, harsh in the still air, and then plumed white, as the temperature in the room dropped. She heard him struggling to breathe, too. A gurgly, grating quality raised her hopes that he might actually be dying.
Ha! Wishful thinking.
Could he die? If Fionn couldn’t, why would she delude herself this thing could? He doesn’t have to die. I just need five minutes to get out of here.
His neck was twice its normal size, skin stretched so taut that she wondered it didn’t simply burst. Maybe the key was to create an injury that got worse faster than they could heal themselves. Speaking of which, she took half a second to glance at her wrist. It was grotesquely swollen, probably sprained. Maybe broken. She patted her smashed face gingerly and winced. No matter. She’d take care of herself later—if there was a later.
Slototh sank to the floor. His eyes fluttered shut. Iridescent blood trickled out his mouth, nose, and ears, picking up speed as internal channels opened. Was he far enough gone? Could she risk a jump, or would he grab her when she was most vulnerable? She checked the wards around him. They were solid. If he could have broken through, he would have.
Aislinn reminded herself to breathe. She’d never been so terrified in her life. Can’t think about that now. Her top was still north of her breasts. She yanked it savagely back down. Okay. She took one last look at Slototh. He was turning gray. There would never be a better chance.
Frantic to escape, she summoned power, expecting him to spring to his feet and sabotage her in the middle of her jump preparations. It didn’t happen. She visualized the yard where she’d left Dewi, wrapped herself in magic, and was gone. When she tumbled out into a brightly lit day, she was so relieved that sobs ripped through her.
Dewi. Where was Dewi? Aislinn looked about, frantic. From out of nowhere, familiar talons grabbed her and slung her into place as the dragon’s wings beat the air. Aislinn wrapped her arms around Dewi’s neck. They wouldn’t go very far, not nearly all the way round, but she hugged Dewi as hard as she could. Jagged pain lanced up her arm. She remembered her wrist and drew back. One side of her face throbbed.
“Tell me,” Dewi hissed. “Everything.”
Aislinn did, shamelessly sucking every ounce of compassion the dragon laved on her, drinking it down like mother’s milk. “Anyway, I couldn’t have been very far away, because it only took a few minutes to jump back to where you found me.” She paused to draw breath.
“He probably had you somewhere in that labyrinth he told you about. Wonder how extensive the tunneling is and if I could fit in it.” The dragon banked, swinging them into another large arc.
When she thought she could stand to hear the answer, Aislinn asked, “Do you think he’s dead?”
Such a long silence pulsed between them that Aislinn thought Dewi wasn’t going to answer. At last, the dragon said, “Probably not, but it will take a long time for him to resurrect himself into something menacing.”
Well, t
hat’s a piece of good news. “You need to put me down.”
“Not a good idea. Look what happened last time I did that.”
“I have to heal my wrist and face.”
“That’s not the real reason.”
Aislinn winced. It made her face hurt worse. The dragon was canny. The time they’d spent in one another’s heads had given Dewi sharp intuition about how Aislinn’s mind worked. “No, it’s not. Once I’m done with my injuries, I’m going after Fionn and the others. I can’t let them die.”
“Did Slototh really tell you the Minotaur is somewhere down there?” Dewi sounded fascinated.
“Yes. Why? Is he a long lost relative or something? Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean that.” In spite of the backlash from the wind, Aislinn felt heat rise to her face.
“Now that you mention it, we’re sort of like cousins, in a very distant way, of course.” Dewi started the tight circles that meant they were landing. This time, she helped Aislinn down and sat guard over her while she Healed herself. Shucking her pack, Aislinn found a water bottle and drank until it was gone. Her belly clutched with hunger, but she couldn’t take the time to hunt or prepare anything. She kept hoping someone would come out the archway leading into the prison, but no one did. Other than her and Dewi, it was silent as a crypt.
“Shall we use magic to try to see something?” Dewi’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “If you insist on going in there, you need all the information you can get.”
“Wherever Slototh took me was deep. Made my ears hurt.”
“Do you want to link to my mind?”
“Yes.” The word was no sooner out than her perspective shifted. It was like sharing Rune’s senses, but amped up a hundredfold. The dragon’s vision was multi-dimensional. She sent it auguring into the earth beneath them. Time passed. A part of them—their astral selves?—oozed through walls and floors, seeking what had become of the Celts and humans.
Ann Gimpel Page 28
