“Don’t do it, Myrddin.”
“All right. Then I’ll need your life force instead. You or Mab. It’s one or the other.” He stopped tapping and raised the hammer again. “Hurry up. I don’t have much time. If you won’t decide, I’ll decide for you.”
“Let Juliet go. If you promise not to hurt her or Mab, I’ll cooperate.”
“What Colwyn and his corpses do with that vampire is none of my concern. My offer extends only to your aunt.”
I hesitated.
The hammer descended.
“No! Stop!” I screamed. “Don’t kill her.”
An inch above the stone, he stopped. He glared at me from under his brows. “Extinguish your sword.”
I let the flames die. One of the Old Ones—Colwyn, I think—snatched the sword and tossed it aside. Cold hands wrapped around my limbs like shackles of ice. The Old Ones hoisted me and carried me toward Myrddin.
A howl sounded. It started low and rose in pitch, full of anger and desperation. The Old Ones carrying me halted as it reverberated, filling the room.
“Kane!” I screamed, twisting toward the entrance. “In here! Go through the—”
An Old One stuck his hand in my mouth. I choked on long-dead flesh. Pushing aside revulsion, I bit down hard, but it didn’t faze the Old One. I couldn’t hurt it.
“Get her over here, now!” Myrddin said, his voice low but brimming with menace. The Old Ones carried me, bucking and struggling, to the table.
“Hold her down,” Myrddin said. “So I can finish this.”
Four Old Ones restrained me, pressing my arms and legs hard against the table. At my head, Colwyn covered my mouth, holding my upper arm with his other hand. I fought to breathe. Each hard-won inhalation reeked with the smell of the grave.
Myrddin bent over me. He’d hung the bloodstone around his own neck again. The pendant dangled from its chain, the bloodstone still small and dull. “No time for fun and games tonight, my girl,” he said. “No slowing down the chi and maximizing the pain. A pity, but it’s time to bring my son back.” He carved the eihwaz rune into my chest. Then he plunged the metal probe into my heart.
The pain convulsed me. My head strained against the Old One’s hand as I tried to scream. My right arm broke free; my grasping hand fastened on the bloodstone.
It pulsed.
The stone grew warm as blood from my slashed palm seeped into it.
I yanked, snapping the chain that held the stone around Myrddin’s neck.
The bloodstone vibrated in my hand, drinking in my blood. A silvery light glowed from between my fingers. The light spread, running up my arm, lighting up the rune cut into my skin. It seeped into my heart, spreading warmth through my chest.
With a mighty heave, my heart rejected the probe, expelling it from my body.
From the entrance, a roar pierced the room. The heads of all four Old Ones whipped toward it. I looked, too.
Kane towered there, still a hybrid of man and wolf. He stood at his full height, powerful, his shoulders broad. But his head had wolfish features and his fingers sprouted wicked-looking claws. He wore clothes he’d taken from one of the dead vampires, but somehow that made him even more terrifying.
He roared again, and the Old Ones scattered like cockroaches. They scuttled deeper into the room. Kane howled and ran after them.
Myrddin drew back his arm to hurl energy at Kane. I kicked him, knocking off his aim. His fireball missed, exploding against the wall. I rolled off the table, away from Myrddin, and crouched, ready to dodge his next fireball, gauging the distance to my sword.
But Myrddin didn’t throw another fireball. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the light emanating from the bloodstone.
I opened my fingers a little to let the light stream out. A beam shot upward and spread into a nimbus. Its center glowed with an intensity that almost hurt to look at. The light pulsed. It fractured, spun, and came back together in an image. In the center of the nimbus stood a young woman, clothed in a white gown, a silver circlet crowning her flowing hair.
“Viviane,” whispered Myrddin.
“Betrayer,” she spat. She lifted an elegant hand. Her finger pointed at him, and a torrent of energy shot out. It picked Myrddin up and hurled him against the wall. When he hit, his skin split open and his demon form emerged. It twisted out of his body, like some scaly reptile emerging from an egg, growing by feet each second. Myrddin’s human form disappeared.
Now. I had to act now, while Wyllt, Myrddin’s demon form, was forced to materialize in the human plane. I ran for my sword, shouting the invocation. Flames licked the blade. Holding the bloodstone high with my right hand, I snatched up the sword with my left. I charged the demon.
Viviane directed the stream of energy with laserlike precision. Wyllt glowed, held here somehow by the beam. The demon crouched, too big for this low room. I drove the Sword of Saint Michael through its hide and into its stomach. Flames burned demon flesh; sulfurous smoke billowed. I withdrew the sword and thrust it in again, moving it around to slice up as much of the demon’s innards as I could.
Wyllt doubled over, clutching its abdomen. Black, stinking bile gushed from the wound. Demon flesh melted. Smoke surged. I kept striking and slashing. The demon’s body wavered. It softened and grew spongy, then melted into a waterfall of black blood and liquefied flesh. The remains of the demon puddled on the concrete floor.
From the puddle, a form took shape. Myrddin, his demon half gone, reemerged. He lay slumped against the wall, his body broken, his eyes closed. I checked for a pulse and found none.
In the glowing light from the bloodstone, Viviane nodded, grim satisfaction on her face. Her image faded, along with the silvery light.
Screams echoed from somewhere deep in the underground network of rooms.
I ran over to Juliet and pulled out the spikes that impaled her. I worked as quickly as I could, but carefully. Too much of her weight on the wrong spike would cause more damage.
She was too weak to stand. I lowered her to the ground and removed the silver gag. She licked her lips. “I was the first one to survive the virus,” she said. “So they were trying to see if they could kill me.” Her eyes fluttered. “I think maybe they succeeded.”
The bloodstone pulsed. I opened my hand. Red with my blood, glowing, it was larger than before. The setting had cracked and fallen away in places, but the broken chain was still attached. I tied its ends in a clumsy knot, then lifted the chain over her head and positioned the pendant so the bloodstone hung over her heart. Then, without knowing why, I traced the eihwaz rune on her forehead like a blessing.
Juliet gasped. Her body went rigid, then shuddered. Her wounds shrank and closed. Her eyes flew open and she looked around the room.
“What’s that wizard doing?” she cried.
Myrddin wasn’t dead. He still slumped on the ground, but he held the metal probe with both hands. The probe protruded from his chest, where he’d stuck it deep into his own heart.
I raced over and tried to tug it out. He fought me with surprising strength, struggling to keep the probe in his own heart. I kicked him and tugged harder. Inch by inch, the probe gave.
Kane appeared at the back of the room, bruised and bloody, his clothes torn.
I looked at him. “Are you—?”
Myrddin wrenched the probe from my hands and drove it deeper into his heart.
Kane fell to his knees. On the table, Pryce convulsed.
Myrddin giggled. “I win, my girl. Tell Viviane I’ll see her in hell.” The giggle cut off abruptly as the triumphant light faded from his eyes.
32
“FATHER!” PRYCE GASPED AND SAT UP ON THE TABLE, LOOKING around, pulling needles from his body. His face twisted with hatred when he saw me.
“You,” he sneered. With amazing agility for someone who’d been comatose for a month, he jumped from the table. To his left, he saw Myrddin’s corpse. “What did you do to my father?”
I grasped the Sword of Saint Michael
; its flames blazed to life as I raised it. “The same thing I’m about to do to you.” I raised my sword and charged, aiming to plunge the point into Pryce’s heart.
He dodged to the far side of the table. As he did he raised his hand, palm out, and pushed toward me. A rectangle of energy pulsed out. The Sword of Saint Michael passed through, but when the energy hit me it knocked me backward. My ass landed hard on the concrete floor.
I’d never seen Pryce do that before. But Myrddin had used the same gesture when Mab attacked him at Back Street.
Pryce looked as surprised as I was. He looked at the ceiling, then at the floor where Myrddin lay, then back at the ceiling again. “Father?”
I got to my feet.
Pryce laughed. The sound emerged as a giggle.
I charged again. And again, Pryce used magic to knock me back.
He hurled a fireball at me. I sliced it in two with my sword.
Throwing fireballs, Pryce edged toward the entryway. His aim was bad, but the strength and sheer number of his missiles kept me back.
Near the door, the fireball he tried to throw fizzled and extinguished in his hands. He turned and ran.
I ran after him.
“Vicky!” Juliet yelled behind me. “Kane needs your help!”
I stopped in my tracks and turned around. “There’s silver in him,” she said. “I can’t get it out. It’s killing him.”
Outside, cans bounced and rolled as Pryce found his way out the hidden door.
Behind me, Kane groaned, the sound weak and shot through with pain.
I let Pryce go and ran back to Kane.
KANE LAY UNMOVING ON THE FLOOR, HIS EYES SHUT, HIS skin ashen. His breath tore from his throat in ragged gasps. The flesh around the bullet wound had blackened and blistered, classic signs of silver burn. He felt hot all over, and his heart beat erratically, like it had lost its normal rhythm and couldn’t find it again.
Around his neck, he wore the bloodstone.
“He was having seizures,” Juliet said. “The pendant helped me; I thought it would help him, too. But he’s not getting better.”
At least the seizures had stopped. But we had to get the silver out. There must be a fragment of Norden’s bullet still inside him. I needed something to dig it out with.
I rushed back to the table where the Old Ones had held me down. Myrddin had cut me with something. I found it on the table where he’d dropped it—a scalpel.
In the few moments I was gone, Kane had gotten worse. The silver burn had spread across his chest and down his arm to the elbow. It would be spreading inside, too.
Mab’s bloodstone wasn’t healing Kane. I took it off and put it around my own neck. First, remove the silver. After it was out, maybe the bloodstone would help Kane, as it had Juliet. If it wasn’t too late.
Sweat beaded on Kane’s forehead as I searched the wound. His unconscious body spasmed as I hunted for the fragment. I was hurting him, and I hated that, but the silver was hurting him more. I had to get it out.
I saw blood and flesh and bone. But no scrap of silver. I cut a little more. Kane groaned, and I felt sick inside.
The scalpel revealed a tarnished point. I dug a little deeper, trying to get the scalpel under it, and I could see more of the fragment. I attempted to lift the fragment with the blade, but it wouldn’t come. Some jagged part was caught in the flesh. As gently as I could, I cut a little more. It still wouldn’t come; I’d have to grip it somehow. Holding back the flesh with the scalpel, I reached in with my thumb and finger. Unsanitary, but werewolves aren’t vulnerable to many infections. Right now, a few bacteria were the least of Kane’s worries.
Blood smeared my fingers, making them slippery, but I got the edge of the fragment between my fingernails. When I had a good grip on it, I pulled gently. Kane shuddered as I drew the silver through his flesh. Slowly, carefully. And then it was out: an inch-long, twisted piece of blackened, bloody silver.
As soon as the silver left his body, Kane gasped. His back arched. His eyes opened, and then immediately squinched in pain. The half-man, half-wolf writhed on the floor, his limbs twisting. An energy field built around him.
I scrambled backward, out of reach of the blast of energy that would come at the moment of change.
Which way would he shift? I couldn’t tell. Fur grew, then receded. His arms shrank to forelegs, while his legs stayed human. His skull shifted so fast, to so many different forms, I couldn’t tell what shape it was taking.
The energy blasted out. I closed my eyes and shielded my face with my arms. Energy flared and pulsed for a long time—so long I was afraid it would burn him up, consume him entirely so that there’d be nothing left, man or wolf.
Finally it subsided. A naked man lay on the floor, bloody and silver-burned and absolutely beautiful. Kane was back.
He sat up, and I tackled him in a hug. His strong arms encircled me, and I covered his face with kisses. His human face. Everything about him—his skin, his features, his limbs—was a miracle. I looked into his gray eyes. They were the same eyes I’d searched for some sign that Kane would come back to me. Man or wolf, Kane had always been in those eyes.
He pulled me to him. His lips found mine. His tongue was in my mouth, hungry, frantic, hot. He pulled back and held my face in both his hands.
“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?” His voice, rough and husky with disuse, sent a thrill through me.
Somewhere behind us, Juliet cleared her throat. “Um, pardon me for interrupting,” she said, “but do either of you hear anything?”
Kane turned toward the hidden entrance and listened. “There are people out in the tunnel,” he said. “Probably cops, but I don’t think we should wait around to find out.” He pulled the sheet from the table where Pryce had lain and wrapped it around himself. “Come on, there’s a back way out. I chased some Old Ones through it.” He took my hand and we ran toward the back of the room.
I carried the Sword of Saint Michael before me like a torch, partly for light and partly to keep back any Old Ones or vampires who might be hanging around. Kane walked beside me, holding my hand. Juliet followed, and I kept turning around to make sure nothing had snatched her away. Shouts of “Police!” erupted behind us as we quietly moved deeper through tunnels and turnings. No one leapt out at us; no one came after us.
Kane’s hand was warm in mine. As we walked side by side, my flame held aloft, his broad chest gleaming in its light, I felt like we were the first explorers of some ancient world.
After a while, the three of us emerged onto a deserted platform at South Station. The station clock read 4:47 in the morning. It felt like I’d left Deadtown a century ago.
“Juliet,” I said, removing the bloodstone from my neck. “Take this to Mab. She needs it as soon as you can get it there.” I hoped we weren’t too late. I didn’t know how Viviane had appeared in the bloodstone’s glow, but I was worried about what her appearance had cost Mab.
Juliet took the pendant. I also gave her the Sword of Saint Michael to take home for me. “‘Your bidding shall I do effectually.’” It was good to hear her spout Shakespeare. She made an elaborate stage bow, and then she was gone. Damn, I wished I could move that fast. I’d be at Mab’s side now.
Kane caught me in his arms. His skin was warm despite the early-morning chill. I ran my hands over his back, feeling its muscles, amazed at the smoothness of it. Amazed to have him with me again.
But time was short. We couldn’t be here embracing on the platform when the first train pulled in. Hard as it was, I stepped away.
“I have to get back to Mab,” I said. “I need to know she’s all right.”
Kane traced one finger along my cheek. Desire lit his eyes and reached out to me, but he nodded. “How are you going to get there?”
“The only way I can think of. I’m going to shift into a bird.”
“Are you sure you’ll know to fly to Deadtown?”
“I think so. The moon isn’t strong right now. I�
��ll hold the idea of going home in my mind and hope it leads me there.” I touched his arm. “Will you be all right?”
He nodded. “I’ll hide out in my office for a few days. I practically live there, anyway. I’ve got a change of clothes, food, coffee.” Kane’s staff was all paranormal, so no one would be coming in to work for another day. “Once the containment order is lifted, I’ll call Carlos and have him bring my impersonator back from D.C.”
We walked outside, our arms around each other. On the sidewalk, we kissed. Then Kane turned toward Government Center. He kept close to the buildings, out of sight of any passing cars, but the streets were quiet. Soon, he melted into the shadows, and I couldn’t see him anymore.
I walked out Summer Street, toward the water. The sky was beginning to brighten in the east, and somewhere birds were singing. I stood and listened. I pulled their song into me, letting the notes fill me with lightness. I imagined stretching out my wings, letting the air hold me up, the currents carry me over the city, toward home. It was time to go home. Then energy blasted out, and all I knew was that I was flying, soaring over the water, happy it was spring.
33
I CAME BACK TO MYSELF ON THE ROOF OF A BUILDING. The sun warmed my back and my first thought was, “Maria was right. Flying dreams are the best.”
My next thought was of Mab. Had Juliet returned the bloodstone to her? Was she all right? Could I get to her?
I got up and went to the edge of the roof to see where I was. Deadtown lay below me. It was daytime, so the streets weren’t as crowded as at night, but the curfew seemed to make people want to get out while they could. Bundled-up zombies trundled along in twos and threes, an occasional werewolf or other paranormal threading their way through them. I recognized the street below—mine. In fact, I was on the roof of my own building. I’d made it home. I stepped back from the edge before someone looked up and pointed out the naked woman on the roof.
Naked. That presented a problem. I wasn’t used to streaking through the halls of my building, and I’d prefer not to bump into any neighbors au naturel. I glanced around the roof. I’d never been up here before. If I was lucky, maybe somebody had set up a clothesline to give their laundry that fresh-air smell. I didn’t see anything like that, but I did see a red, blue, and yellow beach umbrella. Odd. I went over to investigate.
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