Master of Passion

by Angela Knight

“You all right, boy?” Ulf asked, hurrying over, his expression concerned.

  As his father hauled him to his feet, Adam swiped a hand over his stinging lower lip. When he looked down his fingers, blood smeared them. It smelled so delicious, it was all he could do not to lick it off.

  “You really can’t do anything fast yet,” Ulf told him. “When you try to go full out, your body goes further than you expect. Your timing’s going to be completely off until you get the hang of it.”

  Opal came closer, talking on Adam’s cell. “Sure, hold on a moment,” she said, and held the phone out.

  Adam accepted it. “Hi, Mom…”

  “I am definitely not your mother,” said a low, cold voice. “But if you don’t gate to her house right now, I’m going to start killing her neighbors until I get to her. Bring your father. No weapons, armor or reinforcements.” The phone went dead.

  Adam stared at the phone in shock, a sense of cold disbelief washing over him. His ears seemed to buzz. Ulf began to swear in something that sounded like Italian. Probably Latin.

  “I… I just heard a female voice,” Opal stuttered, sounding as stunned as he felt. “I didn’t know… She asked to speak to Adam…”

  Adam surged to his feet. “Open a gate.”

  Ulf grabbed his arm. “We can’t just gate there. We’d only hand them more hostages, and it sounds like they have too many as it is. We need to tell Arthur, make a plan…”

  “That bitch has my mother. Open the damned gate, Opal.”

  “We can’t,” Dad snapped. “You don’t gate into the middle of a fucking army. Not when they know you’re coming.”

  “So send me alone. They’re going to kill her, Dad.”

  “I can’t lose both of you!”

  The anger at his father’s abandonment roared back to life. “What the fuck difference does it make? You already walked away from us once.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Opal yelled.

  Shocked, Adam and his father turned to stare at her.

  “I’m talking to Arthur,” she told them, holding up her own cell. “He said to gate there under the strongest shield I’ve got and stall while he gets everyone in position for a rescue.”

  “Fine,” Adam growled. “Let’s go.”

  Ulf rubbed his eyes with one hand as if in pain, but he offered no protest.

  “Where’s your mother’s house?” Opal asked. “Picture it.”

  Adam called up his last memory of the big brick colonial in its thoroughly middle-class suburban Charlotte neighborhood. She’d lived there since Adam had been six, when his father had paid cash for the house.

  “Got it.” Opal nodded crisply and gestured. A gate dilated open, showing the exact same view Adam had envisioned. Moonlight streamed down across the porch, making its square white columns seem to glow.

  People stood out in the wide, rolling front yard. Adam recognized some of Cheryl’s elderly neighbors, along with men, women, and children he didn’t know. All of them looked terrified. No surprise, considering the Fomorian warriors who surrounded them with raised swords.

  A woman in armor stood on the brick porch, Mom kneeling at her feet. One mailed fist was clenched in Cheryl’s graying hair, a dagger pressed to her throat.

  “I grow impatient,” the queen of the Fomorians snarled, glaring through the gate at them. “I want what is mine.”

  * * *

  Opal stared in horror. There had to be at least a hundred Fomorian warriors surrounding the hostages.

  Thousands of werewolves filled the field as she and Joaquin tried to guide a knot of women and children through the lines. A woman fell. Joaquin reached down to help her up, and she grabbed his helmet, jerked it off his head, and shifted. Before either of them could move, she dove for his face, fanged jaws wide…

  She whirled to Adam and shot a thought through the mission link, Do you trust me?

  His answer rang through their telepathic link without hesitation or doubt. Yes.

  We have to Truebond.

  Ulf’s head snapped toward them, his eyes widening in incredulity, then narrowing in anger. Oh, hell no! You’re not using my son to follow Joaquin into death!

  I want to keep your son alive, Opal snapped, for once forgetting he was a Knight of the Round Table. She had a chance at something precious that was just beginning to bloom, and she was damned well not going to lose it to the Fomos. If we’re Truebonded, I can help him control…

  At the word “control,” Adam stiffened. A memory flashed through his mind: what it had felt like to be her puppet during the newsroom fight. For the first time, Opal realized how that moment had infuriated and frightened him, ground his face in his helplessness against magic.

  He’s not going to do it. There was no way in hell. She was going to lose Adam the way she had Joaquin.

  She didn’t think she could survive that again.

  Adam’s gaze went soft on hers. I trust you. And Opal saw in his mind the first time he’d said those words, right before he’d taken her throat, trusting her to keep them both safe.

  He’d sensed her pain, just as she’d felt his anger. Sensed her despair and the love she’d felt growing despite common sense and too little time. Turquoise eyes met hers. Do it. We have to save these people. My mother. Whatever it takes. I don’t have the training to do it without you. Yeah, I trust you.

  Ulf swore, a juicy spew of Latin curses and thoroughly infuriated Welsh.

  Opal grabbed the back of Adam’s head and took his mouth in a ferocious kiss as she sent her power streaming into him, seizing the opening he’d created for her, weaving connections between their minds. Building on the magical foundation she’d established when she’d given him the Gift. It was the deepest, tightest link she’d ever created, and she gave it all the power she had.

  “What is this?” Distantly, Opal heard the Queen’s mocking voice. “A farewell kiss?”

  The sound of alien laughter and catcalls rose from the Fomorians, but Opal didn’t care. She was too utterly focused on Adam, on the core of him, the intelligence and stubbornness and hidden nobility. And below all that, the fragile shoot of love that had sprung up in his soul.

  As she bound them tighter, closer, she felt that love strengthening as she bound them together. Reaching deeper, Opal sought out the lessons Ulf had given him as a child. All the teenage classes in swordplay Adam had attended, thanks to his mother. His experience as a champion fencer in high school and college. Opal dragged all of that into the forefront of Adam’s brain, shooting a tight pulse of magic to strengthen reflexes eighteen years had weakened.

  As if from a great distance, they heard the queen growl, “This is ridiculous.” Something in her tone snapped them back to full awareness just in time to see her gesture to one of her warriors. “Kill that.”

  The Fomorian held a fluffy white cat by the scruff. He shrugged and drew a dagger from his belt. The cat yowled, struggling, and the Fomorian cursed as he fought to contain it.

  “Noo!” a child’s voice wailed. “Daddy, don’t let him!”

  “We’re coming, damn it!” Ulf roared. “Leave the cat alone!” His frustrated fury vibrated through the mission link. A hell of a time for this shit!

  Opal would have apologized, but she wasn’t sorry.

  Yes, Ulf growled in her mind. I noticed.

  Ohhhh, boy, Adam muttered.

  He sounded dazed, more than a little high.

  I am high. Your power, Ulf’s… I didn’t know. You’re amazing.

  Oh, this is just lovely! the knight raged. You don’t hit anyone with a spell like that right before they go into combat -- especially not the newly Gifted!

  Too late now. Opal thrust one hand through the gate, conjured a shield, and walked through the doorway into it, the two men at her heels. She gazed around, her heart sinking. It was even worse than she’d thought. They were surrounded by a hundred hostages and a thousand warriors, a crowd that spilled out into the street and into surrounding yards. The Fomos must have cleaned out e
very house for blocks.

  Bloody hell, Ulf thought. Tell Arthur to bring more warriors.

  Opal was already doing so, opening a visual link to Guinevere’s mission ring. She scanned the scene, transmitting what she saw.

  Guinevere cursed.

  I’ve got to mobilize more Magekind, Arthur snarled. Opal, tell Ulf to buy us time.

  The Fomorians stepped apart, clearing a path to their queen, who still held Adam’s mother at her feet, a knife to her throat. In the depths of the Truebond, the last of Adam’s giddy high vanished like a soap bubble hitting a lava field. Where in the hell are the cops?

  There’s probably a dampening spell over the whole neighborhood to keep anybody from realizing this is even going on.

  The Fomorian queen smiled, baring serrated teeth as her gaze locked on Adam’s hand in triumph. “The ring! You do have it. Excellent. Give it to me and I’ll let all these people go back to their beds. Otherwise…” She dug the point of her knife into his mother’s throat. A dark bead rolled downward.

  Adam actually snarled. Opal felt the hot sting of his fangs lengthening.

  Ulf’s big hand landed on his shoulder and clamped down hard. Control it, son. We’ll get her back.

  “Violence is unnecessary,” the queen said smoothly. The light in her eyes was avid. “You need only hand over the ring.”

  “Who the fuck are you, Sméagol?” Adam muttered. I knew it was the Goddamn ring.

  Maybe she doesn’t know it has no power, Ulf said, sounding uneasy. Maybe she thinks it’s something it’s not.

  And maybe you don’t know what the fuck it is.

  Either way, we need to stall. Aloud, Ulf said, “And if we give you the ring, how do we know you won’t slaughter the hostages anyway?”

  Someone sobbed, and a child cried out.

  The queen made a lovely, sweeping gesture. “I give you my word.”

  “We learned how much Fomorian honor is worth during the last truce, when you kidnapped one of our Majae in a plot to butcher us all.”

  “You killed my king!”

  “Which seems to have put you in a much better position then you were in when he was alive,” Ulf retorted. “According to our spies, that was locked in a tower.”

  She stared at him in hot rage. “Well, I am free now. And I will have that ring. What does it matter to you? It has no magic! Would you sacrifice your woman and all these people for a trinket?”

  “Would you restart the war over one? Because if you harm so much as that child’s cat, Arthur will rain hell down on your head. The Magekind, the Sidhe, the dragons -- you do remember how your beloved king kidnapped that hatchling? The Dragonkind would gladly hunt down every last Fomorian and wipe out your entire species.”

  “I’m sure that will be a great comfort to all these people when they lie in their graves,” the Queen snarled.

  * * *

  Fury rolled over Adam, accompanied by cold fear. He was acutely conscious of his mother, crouched at the bitch’s feet, her head twisted to one side in the Fomorian’s grip.

  Meanwhile, Cheryl’s terrified neighbors looked like children being held by ruthless, vicious adults. The Fomorians, all better than seven feet tall, towered over them. A little girl was screaming her curly little head off, despite her mother’s frantic efforts to quiet her. Each had a sword blade to her throat. Off to the right, one side of Mrs. Richards’s face looked bruised and swollen from the impact of a big fist.

  Adam met the old woman’s frightened gaze. He remembered trick-or-treating at her house years ago -- she’d given out full-sized bars of candy and made a big deal about whatever elaborate costumes he and his sci-fi loving mother had come up with.

  Others he didn’t know it all, but he was far too familiar with the looks on their faces -- the horror at being at the mercy of the merciless, that spouses and children and they themselves were about to die. And he recognized the expressions worn by the Fomorians, alien or not. The cruel contempt and superiority, the utter failure to see those they held as deserving of life.

  We’ll save them, Adam, Opal’s mental voice spoke in the Truebond. There was an icy calm to her mind, the still watchfulness of someone who’d fought in more battles than he could even imagine. She remembered fighting Islamist terrorists, Nazis, soldiers of a hundred armies, werewolves, even some kind of towering nightmare with horns and goat legs. We’ll survive this too. Keep your head. Play for time.

  Her confidence steadied him. He grabbed the ring and jerked it off his finger, ignoring the sting as his skin tore with the violence. “So you want this?”

  The Fomorian Queen went still, her eyes locking on the ring. “Yes!”

  Just a trinket, my ass. Aloud, he said, “How much do you want it?” Adam strode forward holding it aloft. The warriors stepped from his path, hauling their hostages aside and opening a corridor between them.

  Ulf and Opal followed. That’s right, son, the knight murmured. Focus their attention. Give them a nice show.

  He almost broke step at the confident approval in his father’s tone. Ulf trusted him with this?

  Well, you handled that Libyan mob easily enough, his father said.

  And he had. Bluffing and bullshit had saved his ass more than once.

  Adam met the Queen’s gaze in challenge. “If this is just jewelry, why the hell is it so important?”

  Her gaze flickered. “It will help me secure my kingdom.”

  “How?”

  Her eyes narrowed, offended. God, he hoped he wasn’t pushing too hard. “I will use it to show my nobles I was right.” Her mouth twisted in a snarl that exposed those pointed teeth as she nodded at Ulf. “I told my king all he had to do was take the ring from that one. But he mocked me as he always mocked my visions when they didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear. I warned him he would die by dragon fire, but he said that reptilian ally of his would protect him.” Her voice dropped into a hiss as her red eyes blazed. “And then he locked me in that tower.”

  He locked her in that tower because she’s mad as a hatter, Ulf thought. The Fomorians must be desperate if they’re following this wench.

  “Now put that ring down!” the queen barked. “It’s mine!”

  “This ring?” He kept going, assessing the distance between him, the queen, and his mother. They were maybe fifteen feet away now, plus three feet up the brick steps. Adam could see how it could go -- putting the ring on the ground. Opal dropping the shield so he could bound up the stairs and land on the queen like a cat on a catnip mouse…

  Can you do it? he asked his father. I’d probably miss.

  Just keep her attention on you.

  The glitter in the queen’s narrowing eyes made it clear exactly why her royal husband had locked her up. “I have waited long enough, human. Put that ring down.” She dug the point of the knife deeper against the curve of Cheryl’s throat. Beads of blood became a thin stream as his mother jerked with a hiss of pain.

  Arthur spoke to Opal. We’re in position.

  “Fine! Jesus, keep your shirt on!” Adam said to the queen, tossing the ring down on the walkway and stepping back, both hands raised.

  The Fomorian’s eyes lit. She started forward with a hiss of excitement, dragging Cheryl down the steps with her… and something poured out of the ring, a cloud of glowing energy, snapping shades of blue and violet and blood red.

  Fuck me, I knew it! Adam leaped back with a shout, would have fallen if his father hadn’t grabbed his shirt and jerked him backward.

  Opal leaped in front of them both, both hands lifted as she pumped a spell at the thing. Though Adam felt the heat of her blast, the great boiling what-the-fuck didn’t even seem to notice. Instead it shot through her magical shield as if it wasn’t even there, boiling toward the queen and his mother.

  Bellowing curses, the Fomorians thrust their hostages aside and lunged to protect their ruler. The WTF roiled like a tsunami of energy, lightning forking around it as it advanced on the queen. Yet unlike the magic he could sense s
urging around Opal and even the Fomorians, Adam couldn’t feel the thing at all. It was as if it wasn’t even there.

  “Yes!” The queen screamed, throwing her arms wide and shoving Mom away. Cheryl promptly leaped off the porch into the evergreen bushes that edged it. WTF darted into the queen and vanished. She screamed in triumph, the sound edging into a howl as her three-toed feet left the ground. She floated upward, her face ecstatic, surrounded by a nimbus of color and searing bolts of magical energy.

  The Fomorian warriors cheered, eyes locked on their hovering queen.

  Shit.

  All around them, Adam saw gates sparking and dilating behind each cringing hostage. Hands reached through the openings as the Magekind jerked the captives to safety.

  Glancing around, he realized the only one who hadn’t vanished was Cheryl, still visible, huddling behind a hedge. No surprise there. Adam wouldn’t have opened a gate that close to the WTF Queen either. Which means it’s up to us.

  He raced to the porch, his father at his heels, Opal right behind them. Before he could plunge into the hedge his mother had disappeared into, the bushes vanished under an onslaught of Opal’s magic. Cheryl looked up at them from suddenly barren mulch.

  Adam and his father helped her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m…” She broke off, starring at Ulf in stunned disbelief. “Paul? Is that you? What are you… How did you…”

  “It’s a long story, and we got to get you to safety!” Adam turned to Opal, feeling her reach for her magic to summon a gate.

  “Jesu!” his father breathed, staring at the sky in horror.

  Adam whirled and saw what Ulf was looking at. “Fuck!”

  The queen’s charred body dropped to the brick walkway in an explosion of ash. The WTF hovered above it like a malevolent storm front.

  “Shit!” Opal whirled, conjuring a gate that opened faster than anything he’d ever seen.

  “Take your mother!” Ulf shoved Cheryl into Adam’s arms and roared, “Opal, armor!”

  Magic whipped around him, sparks forming his suit even as he leaped into the cloud’s path, lifting a newly conjured sword. The cloud simply veered around him and kept coming.