Gunmetal Magic (kate daniels)

by Ilona Andrews

  I turned around and followed the men up the pyramid.

  Shots rang out. A bullet bit into my side. Argh. Not silver, but it hurt like hell. My body clenched and expelled it. I kept climbing.

  Another bullet burrowed into the mud an inch from my head. I shifted sideways, moving along the side of the structure, trying to put the thickness of the pyramid between me and the shooters.

  A hail of gunfire tore from one of the huts.

  “Honey!” Raphael called. He was above me, shielding Roman with his body.

  I turned, pressing my back against the mud, and raised my rifle. The muzzle flash gave the shooter away—third hut on the left, in the window, a faint outline of a man’s head. I squeezed the trigger. The rifle barked, and a man’s head jerked back. The gunfire died. I turned around and kept climbing.

  Above me Raphael and Roman climbed up onto the flat top of the pyramid. I grabbed the edge, pulled myself up, just as Raphael stepped toward the altar…

  The magic wave drowned us. Oh no.

  The clay statue of a man in front of me opened its eyes. Its human eyes. The clay figures weren’t statues. They were actual people, smeared with a thick layer of mud and left to bake, motionless, under the sun.

  Raphael picked up Anubis’s fang off the altar.

  “Raphael!” I screamed.

  The statues jumped, breaking their coats of clay, and grabbed Raphael. He clamped the one in front of him in a death grip. I rushed them from one side, Roman from the other. The clay-covered man in front of me unhinged his jaw and sank his fangs into Raphael’s side. My hands closed about his neck. I squeezed, crushing bone and cartilage, and jerked the corpse aside, hurling if off the pyramid. Roman stabbed his staff into the spine of the second man and then Raphael opened his hands and the third cultist fell, lifeless.

  Raphael fell. I caught him and lowered him down.

  His blue eyes were wide open. “It’s hot.”

  I jerked my knife from my belt, grabbed Raphael’s ACU top and cut it, stripping it off. Two bites, one on the right arm and the other on the torso. I yanked my backpack open, grabbed Doolittle’s antivenom gun, and shot it into the first bite.

  “Don’t move.” Don’t die. Don’t die, Raphael. Don’t die.

  I sank two more shots into him and then three more into the other bite.

  “Behind you,” Raphael barked.

  I whipped around. The fourth statue snapped upright right next to the snake’s head, half-hidden by the serpent’s skull. Roman charged it.

  The clay-smeared man howled something wordless and angry. Roman shoved his staff into the man’s chest. The scream turned to a gurgle, as blood spilled from the cultist’s mouth. Roman freed the staff with a sharp jerk, stumbled back, and slid down, leaving a bloody smudge on the clay Apep’s neck.

  “The knife,” Raphael squeezed out. His body bucked in my hands, rigid.

  I shot more antivenom into him. It was all I could do.

  “The knife,” he croaked.

  I reached for Anubis’s fang, which had fallen from his hand.

  A man’s hand snatched it before I could touch it.

  “I’ll take that, thank you!” Anapa strode to Apep.

  Roman blocked his way. The god backhanded him. Roman crashed into the altar. Anapa raised the knife. A jackal howled, loud, deafening.

  I lunged at him and hit an invisible wall. It tossed me back and I fell on Raphael.

  Anapa plunged the knife into Apep’s skull.

  The clay serpent shuddered. The pyramid shook under us. Cracks sprang on Apep’s blunt nose. The colossal head rose, teetered upright, and fell backward. The clay serpent slid off the pyramid into the mud.

  “The show will go on after all!” Anapa spun around, grinning with a mouth full of jackal teeth. “Here we go.”

  “You fucking bastard!” I snarled.

  Raphael shook under my hands. He was going into convulsions.

  “I must have my myth.” Anapa laughed and vanished.

  The swamp shook. A flock of birds rose from the trees, darkening the sky.

  “Snakes.” Roman pushed himself from the altar.

  “What?”

  “Flying snakes.” He planted the staff into the pyramid and began to chant. Darkness swirled around his feet, flashes of pure black emptiness suffused with silver lightning.

  The cloud headed for us. Raphael’s limbs shook, gripped by a spasm. I pried his jaws open and forced the handle of the knife into his mouth. I had no more antivenom. I’d injected him with our entire supply.

  A deep-voiced bell tolled, echoed by the distant silvery ringing of smaller bells. Eerie male voices chanted in tune to Roman’s incantations. The snakes swarmed above us, turning the sky black.

  Wind twisted about Roman. I hugged Raphael to me.

  The snakes plunged at us…and hit an invisible wall, as if a transparent half-sphere shielded us from their onslaught. They touched the wall and slid along the edge of the spell, turning smaller, darker, losing their wings, until they finally landed on the side of the pyramid and slid down into the mud as plain rat snakes.

  Raphael gripped my hand, struggling to say something. His eyes rolled back in his head.

  I clenched him to me. No, this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. The antivenom had to work. It had to…

  The last of the snakes fell. Roman dropped to his knees, out of breath, his face pale.

  A loud hiss rolled through the swamp as if a thousand snakes opened their mouths in unison. I leaned forward.

  Below us a serpent the size of a cargo train circled the pyramid, sliding through the mud. His body shimmered and twisted with a constantly moving mosaic of brown and yellow.

  Raphael’s heels drummed the ground. He was dying. He was dying and I was out of antivenom.

  “Now would be a good time to make some choices,” Anapa said next to me.

  I grabbed his leg, jerked him down, and locked my hands around his throat. They never touched his skin. A barrier of magic held me back. I squeezed, straining with all my strength. He smiled.

  The pyramid shook as the colossal snake curved around it.

  “You,” I snarled. “You!”

  A titanic serpent’s head rose, hovering above us. A long tongue slivered out of the lipless mouth to taste the air.

  “You know what you have to do,” Anapa said. His head melted, changing shape, and suddenly my hands touched the thick, furry throat of a Jackal.

  I gripped it. “I’ll kill you.”

  “Give me what I want and he will live,” the Jackal said.

  I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Do it and you can have me.”

  A yellow sheen rolled over the Jackal’s eyes.

  “Andrea?” Raphael said behind me, his voice almost normal. “Andrea?”

  My feet left the ground. I floated up, weightless. The Jackal floated next to me, huge as a three-story house, his head shaggy with fur, his yellow eyes bottomless. Raphael was screaming something down below.

  I love you, darling.

  I love you.

  Forgive me.

  The Jackal opened its mouth and gulped me. Magic flowed from me, binding me, anchoring me inside the Jackal, connecting us and circulating out of him into me and back to him. We merged, the monstrous beast and I, and suddenly we were once again solid and the old enemy reared its ugly head in front of us.

  Apep hissed and struck.

  We dodged, lithe and fast.

  The serpent smashed into the corner of the pyramid. The entire pathetic mud pile shook and careened. Humans screamed. Morons. Small pathetic morons wriggling in the mud building their mud-hill temple.

  Apep coiled himself, his head swaying back and forth. We ran around him, mashing the mud with our paws and snarling. Apep opened its mouth, the magic roiling inside its dark maw.

  We yipped and barked, baiting it.

  Apep struck, like a coiled spring, and missed.

  We danced around it, so fast, so clever.


  Stupid snake. Foolish, foolish, weak snake.

  Apep lunged. Fangs struck our paw. We snapped our teeth and it let go.

  Little humans cheered. Venom coursed through our veins. No matter. We had enough magic to cleanse our blood easily.

  We danced around the serpent. It turned, but not fast enough. We bit its tail and ran, dragging it around the floodplain, its blood a burning inferno on our tongue.

  Look at us pulling your god by its tail. Look at us, little things. Look at me. I am Inepu. I am the better god.

  Apep coiled back and struck, but I opened my mouth and danced away, too fast for it. Apep gathered itself into a spiral.

  I circled it. Bite from the left. The snake mouth met me and I withdrew.

  Strike from the right. Again the snake mouth barred my way.

  I will win. I will endure.

  I will triumph.

  I am Inepu.

  My magic was weakening. My worshipers were still few. So few. But not as few as Apep’s.

  I snapped my teeth, lunging low.

  Apep shot out. Its fangs pierced my fur and skin. Fire and night rolled into my veins, threatening to end me. I let the serpent bite me and just as it let go, I bit its neck, sinking my teeth deep into its flesh.

  Die. Die…

  Go back into nothing. Dissolve and be forgotten, so I will stand in your place.

  Apep writhed in my jaws, whipping its body at me, clenching, coiling, but I held on and bit harder and harder.

  The last of my magic was almost spent.

  My fangs found bone. I jerked the body of my enemy up and bit down with all my might.

  Apep hung limp in my jaws.

  I held him high, showing everyone my triumph.

  Witness my might. Remember it.

  In the mud, small things knelt. I felt the first stirring of devotion, the delicious addictive splashes of their faith.

  Worship me. Feed me.

  The pliant flesh in my mouth turned to clay. The serpent’s body crumbled and I released it. It crashed into the mud in chunks of clay. I howled, announcing my victory.

  The small things fled. No matter. They would remember me. Soon, when I recovered, I would find them and add them to my worshippers. The current of faith would flow.

  I stood there, exhausted, exhilarated, intoxicated by my power. Invincible.

  I was a god.

  Weakness flooded me, slowly. The last of my magic was spent. I staggered to their former god’s ruined temple. I let go of my form and assumed my new human shape. Healthy. Beautiful. Full of magic and so blissfully easy to heal.

  I studied my perfectly formed fingers, my arms, my long, muscled legs.

  I was beautiful.

  A man walked toward me through the mud. What was the name…

  Raphael.

  Raphael!

  I crushed the small voice inside me, smothering it.

  The man kept walking. He had a strange look on his face. Humans are curious creatures. This one was…angry? No…grieving, perhaps, but no, that wasn’t quite right either.

  Perhaps I should kill—

  The magic jerked me back. I had forgotten. I had made the bargain. I had promised he would live.

  The human was close now. Determination. That was it. I needed to retreat, to fold myself into the limit of the human mind, but not yet. Not yet. I had just vanquished my enemy. I deserved this, deserved the worship, the taste of power to come.

  Perhaps he was coming to kill me. But then any damage he could do, I would heal.

  I raised my arms. “What do you think of my body?”

  The human attacked. I saw it, saw the glove on his hand with long pale metal claws, and I willed my magic to shield me, but too little was left.

  He thrust his metal claws into my chest and scoured my heart.

  It burned! It burned like fire. Pain writhed through me, tearing me apart. I’d never felt an agony like this, an all-consuming, terrible pain. I shoved him back, but the pain didn’t stop.

  The claws had broken off. They ripped my heart apart. My magic streamed past it, unable to remove them. I couldn’t heal the damage.

  I was dying.

  I screamed, and the trees shook from my howl.

  I flailed, trying to rip the metal out of me.

  No. No, I would not die today. I tore myself from my new form and fled, into the mud, into the sludge, where my old form slumped, discarded.

  The world slammed into me in an explosion of pain. Silver burned in my heart.

  “I got you,” Raphael was holding me. “I’ve got you.”

  I was dying.

  Suddenly Doolittle was there with the scalpel.

  Where had he even come from? Was I hallucinating before death?

  “It’s okay,” Raphael crooned in my ear.

  Doolittle sliced my chest open. “Expel this silver if you want to live!”

  “Do it, Andrea!” Raphael snarled.

  I pushed against the burning points of pain. Doolittle dug in my open chest with forceps. I screamed.

  “Expel!”

  I couldn’t breathe. My chest was on fire, and the unbearable, terrible pain burned inside me like an inferno.

  The first shard slid out of me. Doolittle plucked it out with forceps.

  The world dimmed, as if someone was blowing out its candles one by one. Doolittle raised his hand. I caught a glimpse of a syringe. Doolittle plunged it down. The needle bit me in the heart.

  The darkness tore in a blinding flash of light and adrenaline.

  “Silver!” Raphael screamed at me. “Get it out!”

  I strained. Another shard slid free.

  “Do it, Andrea!” Raphael growled.

  “Expel,” Doolittle commanded.

  It hurt and I was so tired.

  Another shard left me.

  “Last one,” Doolittle barked.

  The world went black.

  It was so cold and quiet. Can I please stay here…

  I opened my eyes to agony and Doolittle massaging my heart with his fingers.

  I screamed, but my voice was just a hoarse croak.

  The last point of agony slid out of me. Raphael laid me flat. Doolittle knelt over me. His hands were bloody. He was holding some sort of surgical instrument. A woman handed him gauze. A cooling sensation spread through my insides. I was going numb.

  Behind him I saw Anapa stagger to his feet.

  Eyes lit up in the swamp. I saw them with shocking clarity, hundreds of eyes.

  A flood of furry bodies poured from the underbrush. Jackals. Dozens upon dozens of them, and in the lead were the huge, muscled shapes of shapeshifters in their warrior form. Clan Jackal had arrived.

  They circled Anapa.

  “We will take the child now,” a gray shapeshifter in a warrior shape said.

  “Give us the child.”

  Anapa smiled a lopsided grin that bared his teeth and thrust his arms up. Magic flowed from him in a slow wave.

  The Jackals pushed against it.

  The enormous alpha in front howled. Hundreds of voices answered in a chorus of howls, barks, and yips.

  Anapa pushed.

  Clan Jackal gained a foot. Another foot.

  Anapa clenched his teeth. There were too many of them and he was too weakened.

  “Give us the child,” snarling voices demanded.

  “Return the child.”

  “Return!”

  “Stop!” Magic pulsed, knocking the first few Jackals back. Others took their place. He didn’t have enough juice to disappear. I had been inside him, and I knew. He’d spent everything on that fight.

  “Here!” He spat. “Have her.”

  A little girl materialized in the middle of the Jackal pack. One of the warriors snatched her and ran toward us. The Jackals kept moving, step by step, tightening the ring.

  “I gave you what you wanted!”

  The Jackals closed in, one step at a time, eyes on fire, fangs gleaming.

  “Stop!”


  They swarmed him. He screamed, but not for very long.

  I sat on a muddy log. My heart was beating inside me. Doolittle had mended it through a gaping hole in my chest, while I screamed, and then he’d repaired my rib cage, and then he had sealed my wounds. He sat next to me now, wiping my blood off his hands with a wet rag. His eyes were red. He had a terrible look on his face.

  Raphael knelt by him. “Thank you.”

  Doolittle shook his head. “I didn’t hear that. What did you say?”

  Raphael leaned closer. “I said, thank—”

  Doolittle grabbed his throat and smashed his head into Raphael’s face. It was the most vicious head butt I had ever seen. Raphael fell back. Doolittle snarled something under his breath and walked away.

  Raphael shook his head. Blood gushed from his broken nose.

  “I think he’s mad at you,” I told him.

  “He’ll get over it.” Raphael grinned at me.

  “How did you know I wouldn’t die?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Took a chance, huh?”

  He nodded. “We had nothing to lose.”

  Behind him the Jackals had dismantled one of the huts and dragged Anapa’s dismembered corpse onto a pile of wood. Two shapeshifters in warrior form dumped fuel onto the boards and set it on fire.

  “How did you know Anapa would panic?” I asked.

  “When you told me he had started as a shapeshifter, I went to the Jackals looking for their research on Anubis’s weaknesses. They took it very seriously. Half of the Clan was digging up information. They said that in ancient Egypt, when Anubis was still human, silver was virtually unknown. The Egyptians started getting it later, through imports, and even then it was highly prized. There was no reason he would know how silver affected shapeshifters from personal experience. Roman said that he would likely retreat to the old Anapa body if he was threatened. Clan Jackal trailed us. His ego was so colossal, he didn’t view them as a threat.”

  “He didn’t even notice them,” I told him.

  “The hardest part was talking Doolittle into that emergency open-heart surgery. He really didn’t want to do it. We argued for hours. He thought you wouldn’t survive.” Raphael swallowed. He looked sick.