It was all real. Every last bit of it was truly, completely happening. That was what really scared her. Bravado worked wonders, though, even when she used it on herself. Instead of acknowledging that fear and letting it swamp her, she muttered, “Great. Not only am I arguing with myself, I’m doing it in riddles.”
Then she edged out and found herself staring with measuring eyes at the Ikacado. Be what they aren’t.
They were fire. Their skin glowed a dull ruddy orange. They didn’t look hot, and from where Lee stood, she didn’t feel heat. But she could almost remember battling them. Heat that scorched, melted and burned. She slid her gaze just a little to the left. Up against a tree, she saw a slumped, still form. Eira . . . she wasn’t moving. She was alive. Lee didn’t know how she knew that, but she did. Hurt, but alive.
Be what they aren’t.
Everybody insisted that she had some kind of magick inside, learned and forgotten. None of that made sense to Lee. Nothing made much sense right now. All Lee knew was that Eira was hurt, probably in serious trouble, and Lee was the only one close enough to do anything. Too damn bad Lee felt like she couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag, at least not in this world. Back home, she might be confident enough in her abilities to defend herself.
Here? Different story. But that voice inside her head kept whispering, and she knew it wasn’t going to shut up anytime soon.
The knowledge is already inside you—stop fighting what you are . . . what we are.
Scrunching her eyes closed, Lee muttered, “Damn it, I’ve gone and developed another personality on top of my other problems.”
Then she opened her eyes. Looked down at her hands.
She could do this.
The Ikacado were talking, gathering together and murmuring to themselves. Hungry . . . the camp. Wait until they go scouting, then we could . . .
Lee narrowed her eyes. My ass, you will. Not that these things would likely pose much threat to Kalen or his camp. Not enough of them, and Kalen’s people were too well trained, too disciplined to make the kind of fatal mistake the Ikacado were hoping for. But she’d be damned if she’d risk it.
Be what they aren’t . . . The voice was seductive, compelling. It kept whispering to her over and over, until Lee was more focused on the voice than on what was happening in front of her. Lulled by that compelling, demanding voice, Lee was only vaguely aware that she had moved. She never realized how pale she had become. How cool her skin was getting. Her feet moved, but she didn’t feel connected to the movement in any way. She didn’t feel the ground beneath her feet and she didn’t feel the wind blowing hot on her face.
All she was aware of was that voice in her head. Be what they aren’t . . . The high-pitched chitter of their speech hit her ears, but this time it didn’t make much sense. It served like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face, though, and she realized just how close she stood to them.
She couldn’t hear anything past the roaring in her ears. Some part of her was terrified, but that terror never made it to the surface. Confidence settled over her like a cloak, and Lee faced them down and knew she wasn’t afraid. They couldn’t beat her.
One rushed for her, touched her like he was going to knock her to the ground. He fell away screaming, as if the touch of her skin hurt him. Another lunged for her. She lifted one hand and it felt like somebody else was controlling her movements—a puppet on a string.
Something white and gleaming launched out from her palm—icy cold. It struck the lone Ikacado in the chest and Lee watched as it fell down, its dull orange skin turned black.
Two more were left on their feet, and both attacked. She went down under them, the weight of them crushing her into the ground. Clawlike nails tore at her flesh, and fists that felt like lead weights pummeled her. Their touch burned. She wanted to scream.
She sucked in badly needed air and nearly choked as the heat of it blistered her lungs. The temperature of the air had risen with the fury of the Ikacado, and it was burning her, burning her alive. Their hands were hot on her body, and they grew hotter with their fear. It scalded her, and dimly she was aware of the pain, but her mind shoved it away before she could even begin to analyze it.
Lee screamed out in fury, and as she did, something changed. Ice surrounded her, and flesh that had been scorched and hot was suddenly cold. The Ikacado crushing her into the ground screamed out—their rising voices blended in the air, a symphony of anger and pain, and then abruptly, it was cut off, as the rushing in her ears grew to a cacophonic roar. Bright, blinding pain flashed behind her eyes.
Vaguely, she realized she was freezing. Ice cold. And wet—rivulets of something hot and thick flowed over her body. The things were gone. Nothing grabbed at her and the high-pitched, enraged chittering of the demons had gone silent.
But none of that mattered because that pain in her head was expanding, and even if the demons were still there, they wouldn’t have a chance to kill her. The pain was going to do it.
Something touched her ankle, and that icy shroud that wrapped around her seemed to grow. It expanded. There was another screaming growl. A wave of darkness washed up and pulled her under.
SIX
Damn it all to hell.
Kalen felt the cold wind dance along his flesh, and for one second, he almost froze from the terror. All morning, he had been cooped up in one of the watchtowers with Laisyn and Dais, debating over whether or not they should send for reinforcements from the east. They needed them, desperately. Laisyn, the only other witch with moderately noticeable power, had agreed.
Laisyn wasn’t the powerful witch that Eira was, but she was a wonder with the smaller magicks. Not to mention the fact that she had been born a fighter, not forced into it by lack of choice. Even if they had lived in a peaceful world, Laisyn would have found a way to fight, and win. She understood strategy, she understood that loss of life was inevitable in war, but she never lost her compassion, unlike many wartime leaders.
Her jet black hair was cut close to her skull, and her ice blue eyes had focused as she listened to Dais explain the risk of sending for reinforcements and why he felt they needed to wait and see how things progressed before takingthat risk. Then she had politely dismissed him and repeated her own assessments. “We’re running out of time, Kalen,” she’d said, her words an eerie echo of his own gut feelings.
Dais would have argued the point for hours, but the flicker from the gate had made Kalen’s decision for him. Laisyn had sensed activity from the gate as well. It wasn’t even midday when they felt the ripple. It was brief, very brief, but the gate had flickered for a few moments, and he knew something had come through.
Brief or not, it spelled trouble. The gate hadn’t been active long enough to disrupt the energy flow, but it was still bad news. It wasn’t even close to night, and the Warlord bastards rarely tried to use the gate during the day. For reasons unknown, the gates’ powers were far too erratic during the day. With the sun still burning its way behind a thin veil of clouds, they should have had a few more hours of relative peace.
“I’ve made my decision, Dais. Laisyn, find a small team and get them on their way. I want them out of here before noon.” Laisyn acknowledged his orders with a respectful nod before she left in silence. Dais opened his mouth, probably to object, but Kalen shook his head. “I don’t have the time or the patience for this.”
As if to underscore those words, the power swelling through the air spiked, and Kalen took off at a run, following the trail of power. As he tracked it, rage and fear tangled inside him. He knew that power, recognized it as well as he would his own. Kalen knew the scent and feel of it. It was Lee. He had no doubt, no question of that. It was more magick than he’d expected to feel from her for a while—deadly and controlled, the way her magick should feel.
He also sensed the oily, slippery darkness of demon magick. Ikacado demons, he suspected. This was bad, bad news, and it was just getting worse. The gate opening during the day, a pack of Ikacado—the
feel of Lee’s magick in the air and the conspicuous absence of Eira’s.
He felt a whisper of power touch his mind. “Whatever it is, you have to handle it, Morne,” he barked as he ran through the woods. He clutched his plasma rifle in one hand and a long, wickedly curved blade in the other. He used the blade to cut through the manderkay vines that hung down from decaying trees and tried to wrap around anything that passed underneath. “I’ve got a mess on my hands.”
A bigger mess than you think. Sirvani, my friend, and moving close.
“Bloody hell.” He didn’t waste his breath talking out loud anymore. We need reinforcements in the clearing along the eastern boundaries. He cut off his mental link with Morne and focused on Lee.
The trail of magick was fading fast. He needed a transport. Fucking transports. Bring in a transport and he ran the risk of the wyrms. So he continued on foot, running through the woods and praying he’d make it in time. He was getting closer—closer, but the power trail was gone. His gut knotted. He didn’t sense the Ikacado either.
Magick didn’t just stop like that. An abrupt end to a power trail could only mean one of two things—the magick worker was dead or seriously injured. An ugly dark inkling moved through his mind, but he cut the thought off before it could fully form. She was fine. He hadn’t waited for her all this time only to lose her so quickly.
God wasn’t that cruel.
Almost there—he smelled blood. Lots of it. The acrid, bittersweet stink of demon blood. It was thick and heavy in the air, making it impossible to smell anything else. So much blood—
Far off in the distance, he heard the low, melodic chanting.
Of all the threats he could have to face, the Sirvani were probably the last ones he wanted to deal with right now. Raviners, Ikacado, even the wyrms could be deterred. Granted, the wyrms required plasma charges planted in the trails, but they could be turned back.
The Sirvani? No. They wouldn’t turn aside, especially not if they had caught scent of Lee. Young, beautiful and so full of a barely tapped power, she all but shined with it. They would turn back when they had Lee and not before. If they caught sight of her, death was the only thing that would stop them. Killing one Sirvani, or even a few, wasn’t the hard part, though.
Their sheer numbers were the problem. Kill one, ten would take his place. Where in the hell had they come from? The gate hadn’t been active long enough for the Sirvani to come through. They never traveled with any less than an army, and that took several hours to mobilize. Had they been waiting . . . ? Shit. Or trickling through in twos and threes—the odd flickers from the gate could have been the Sirvani. Coming through in small groups and lying in wait.
The fear was taking hold of his brain, but he battled it into submission. He had a job to do, and panicking wasn’t going to help Lee or Eira. Besides, this was Lee. Whether she remembered it or not, she had a gift for getting herself out of trouble. She could handle herself with the Ikacado. Kalen had to believe that.
All he had to do was get to her before the Sirvani did.
Get up.
The voice was back, drumming into her mind, nagging her, pushing her out of the warm cocoon of oblivion and back into the bright, blinding pain of consciousness.
She wanted to go back into the darkness, but that voice in her head wouldn’t let her. Finally, Lee opened her eyes, but she wished she hadn’t. She was covered with—stuff. Slimy thick goop and things she didn’t want to put a name to. She lay shaking on the ground, trembling, drenched, covered with—
Oh, shit. Bits and pieces of ice and other things clung to her hair. Frozen, disgusting little gobbets of flesh, tissue and . . . It hit her like a sledgehammer what she was covered with. Body parts. She was covered with body parts. And the demons . . .
No. No. No . . . Lee huddled into a fetal position and closed her eyes, trying to block out what had just happened.
It hadn’t.
That’s all. None of that had happened. She hadn’t just killed seven . . . seven things in seconds. She was an artist, for crying out loud. An artist—not a warrior. But she was surrounded by bits and pieces of dead Ikacado demons. She was alive, and they were not. They had bodies that were living, breathing weapons. And Lee had just a soft, human body.
She was alive.
They weren’t. Son of a bitch, most of them weren’t even in one piece.
Slowly, she hoisted herself into a sitting position, shoving her wet hair back from her face and looking at the mess in front of her. Just to her left, she saw Eira’s still form. The old woman hadn’t moved.
Her eyes were still closed. Just barely, Lee thought she could make out the faint rise and fall of Eira’s chest. Breathing . . . thank God. If they’d killed her— A knot rose in her throat even considering it.
Resolutely, Lee insisted that the tears blurring her vision were because she’d hate to think she’d put her neck on the line all for nothing. But as she got onto wobbly legs and made her way over to the huddled form, she felt a wave of relief sweep through her that left her too weak to stand. Collapsing beside Eira, she wrapped herself around the old woman and muttered a quiet prayer. Without even realizing what she said, Lee murmured, “You’re safe now, corida.”
Corida—it meant “wise one,” and how Lee even knew the word, much less its meaning, she didn’t know. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to think. She had to get Eira away from here. But how . . . She brushed Eira’s wispy white hair back from her face, tapped the old woman’s cheek and hoped she’d wake. “Come on, old woman. Wake up and talk to me. Help me out. I just saved our asses, now it’s your turn. I’ll be awful pissed if I went through that and then we get wasted before we get to safety.”
“Lee.”
The sound of his voice was just about the sweetest thing she’d ever heard. Lee rolled to her knees and looked at him. She went to stand and realized that things were dripping off her, like water rolling off a raincoat. Bits, bones and blood—vomit boiled its way up her throat and she was going to be sick. She knew it.
She lifted her hands and stared at them. She whimpered as something pulpy dripped off her hands. Hypnotized, Lee watched as it fell to the ground, landing with a wet plop. Hysteria rose inside her. She could feel it, a screaming, whimpering, pathetic sound echoing through her mind.
“Lee.”
She blinked and looked up at him. He crossed the clearing and knelt in front of her. He reached out to catch her hands, but Lee jerked away. “No. This—it’s all over me.”
Kalen didn’t even blink. “I’ve seen worse,” he said flatly. He pulled her up and stared down at her. “Hold it together, Lee, okay? Just for a few minutes.”
Lee shook her head. “This stuff—it’s all over me. It’s in my hair. It’s all over my hands . . .” Her voice rose, climbing higher and higher. Hysteria had her tight in its grip, and Lee didn’t think she could hold anything together, not for another second.
He shook her. Hard. Her hair flew into her eyes, his fingers digging hard into her flesh. “Look at me.” His voice was hard and angry, and she blinked in surprise. But she looked at him. His silver eyes had darkened to a thunderous gray, and anger etched lines into his face. But his hands gentled. He reached up, and Lee realized he had something in his hand. It felt soft against her skin as he wiped some of the blood from her face and hands. “You can hold it together, Lee.”
“Fuck me.” It was a low, amazed murmur, full of shock and maybe a little bit of pleasure. The new voice intruded and Lee flinched.
She followed Kalen’s gaze and saw a man enter the clearing. She jerked against Kalen’s gentle hold, ready to run and hide. She couldn’t handle any more right now. She knew it. Kalen didn’t let go though. “All is well, Lee. He’s with us.”
There was something alien about the new man. He was tall. Ridiculously so. His pale hair was so blond it was nearly white and his skin was pale, pale as snow. But his eyes were a deep, dark black. His gaze skimmed over the clearing, and a faint smile tu
gged at his lips as he looked toward Lee. “Well done.”
A hysterical giggle slipped free but turned into a sob. She pressed a hand to her mouth and managed to stop the flood. Temporarily. She knew it was temporary. She was going to break down soon, but she couldn’t do it now. She didn’t want to do it here. She wanted to be someplace safe when she finally broke down.
Well done.
For some reason, that just amused the hell out of her.
Well done.
She had body fluids and body pieces all over her.
Well done.
She was bordering on hysteria.
“Shut up, Morne,” Kalen muttered.
The tall blond, Morne, Lee assumed, just shrugged. “Eira . . .”
Eira—the weird amusement died and Lee swore. She started toward the old woman, but Kalen’s hands wouldn’t let her go. She smacked at him and demanded, “Let me go. Damn it. She’s hurt.”
“Morne can take care of her.” Kalen caught her hands and forced her to look at him. “You’ve done enough, Lee. Let us handle it now.”
That sounded awfully good. You’ve done enough—hell, he could say that again. Those creatures were pulpy nasty things now, not much of a threat. “Yeah, enough,” Lee mumbled.
Kalen gave her an odd look but then looked back at the other man. Lee blinked. She felt kind of sleepy all of a sudden. Nothing felt real—it was like she was trapped in some hyperalert dream state. Man, another angel face—but he wasn’t a dark angel like Kalen. No, he was a fair one. There was nothing pure or innocent about him. He’d be fun in front of the camera— Kalen said something, and the sound of his voice distracted her from Angel Face, and she looked at him, squinting a little. Forget the angel boy. Lee wanted Kalen in front of the camera, with his hard face, quicksilver eyes and that black-as-sin hair. Naked. Oh, yeah. She’d take a dark angel over a fallen one any day.
Through the Veil Page 14
