Gunmetal Magic (kate daniels)

by Ilona Andrews

  The wooden stick between us shivered in the ground.

  “There is no escape, meat.”

  The cocoon of the draugr’s magic burst with icy fury, snapping at me with dark fingers. The stick shot from the ground and pierced the draugr’s head.

  I ran.

  Behind me a wail of pure fury tore through the forest and Ghastek’s voice barked, “Secure the creature!”

  Magic exploded with mind-numbing intensity. My eyes watered. The breath in my lungs turned into a clump of ice. The path veered right. As I took the turn at a breakneck speed, I saw the draugr, towering over the trees, a mantle of dark magic streaming from his shoulders as he ripped a vampire in half with his colossal hands.

  “I have your scent,” the giant roared. “You won’t escape!”

  The translucent flood of magic crested the edge of the glade and rolled down, chasing me.

  The forest turned into a blurry smudge of green. I flew, jumping over the roots. Weeds slapped me.

  The harsh stench of rot filled my mouth. Around me the trees groaned, as if pulled upright by an invisible hand. My throat burned.

  I could almost see the road through the shrubs.

  The path turned left and I leaped straight down, praying the old injury to my left knee wouldn’t flare up. The brush snapped under my weight and I tore down the slope, squeezing every last drop of speed out of my body.

  A deep roar shook the ground.

  No way to dodge, no direction to take but down.

  A shadow fell over me. I threw myself forward. I rolled once, twice, catching a glimpse of a colossal clawed hand raking the forest behind me, flipped to my feet, and burst onto the road.

  The pillar loomed to my right. I sprinted to it.

  The air whistled. Something large crashed on the road ahead of me, bounced, and sprung to its feet. Ghastek’s vampire. Deep gashes scoured its flanks, oozing thick undead blood onto the sunblock. It looked like it had gone through a shredder.

  The trees creaked behind me. The draugr had made it onto the road.

  I ran like I’d never run before in my life.

  The vampire froze for a fraction of an instant and galloped to the pillars.

  My feet barely touched the ground. In my head my bad leg snapped like a toothpick.

  The draugr’s magic whipped at me, slashing at my back. I went airborne, rolled, and hit the ground hard. My head swam. I rolled to my feet.

  Taller than the trees, the enormous undead towered above me, his eyes spilling icy green mist. Ragged chain mail hung from his torso. Colossal iron pauldrons guarded his shoulders. Huge chunks of his flesh were missing, and bone glared through the holes.

  Holy shit.

  The draugr raised a foot the size of a car. His magic swirled about him in a stormy cloud.

  Curran in his warrior form shot out of the treetop, flying through the air like a gray blur.

  I stood still, presenting a clear target for Håkon.

  The draugr stomped forward.

  Curran smashed into the back of the undead’s neck. Bone crunched. The draugr spun, and I saw Curran ripping into the space between the neck vertebrae with his claws. Undead gristle flew.

  The draugr roared, trying to swat at the Beast Lord. His head began to droop.

  Two ribbons of green magic snapped backward from the draugr, aiming for Curran.

  Oh no, you don’t. I opened my mouth and barked a power word.

  “Ossanda.” Kneel, you undead sonovabitch.

  The magic burst from me. It felt like someone had sunk claws into my stomach and tore out the muscle and my innards. The world went black for a tiny moment. I’d sunk a lot of magic into it.

  The horrible creak of bone snapping rolled through the air. The draugr’s bony knees hit the road. The forest quaked.

  I took a running start and sprinted at him.

  The dazed undead raised its huge hands, trying to grab me. I veered left, avoiding the gnarled bone fingers, and scrambled up the giant’s body, climbing the chain mail.

  Above me, Curran snarled.

  The draugr slapped his chest, missing me by a couple of inches.

  I pulled myself onto his shoulder and ran down the iron plate to his neck. Curran was ripping into the gristle. The undead flesh tore under his claws, and snapped back, regenerating.

  I pulled Slayer and chopped at the gap he’d made. My saber smoked from the contact with undead flesh. The gap widened.

  Curran grasped the edge of the two vertebrae and forced them apart. I cut into the cleft, slicing through the connective tissue.

  Cut. Cut. Cut.

  Cartilage crunched.

  Magic stung me, weaving about me in green strands.

  “Wait!” Curran growled.

  I stopped my sword in midstrike. Curran jumped into the gap, his clawed feet on the edge of one vertebra, his hands on the other. He strained, pushing them apart. Steel-hard muscle bulged on his frame, shaking with effort.

  The draugr howled.

  Curran snarled, a vicious, short sound born of strain.

  With a sickening screech, the draugr’s head fell and rolled off his body. The colossal torso toppled. I jumped and landed on the road, my sword in my hand. Curran dropped down next to me.

  We ran. We sprinted to the pillars.

  Behind us an eerie, unnatural noise announced the draugr reassembling himself.

  The green vampire that had fallen on the road picked itself up and chased after us.

  We were almost to the pillars.

  A shadow fell over us.

  Curran spun. His head melted, reshaping into a lion’s head. The Beast Lord roared.

  The sound was like thunder. Deep, primeval, arresting, it froze the marrow in my bones. My instincts screamed and tried to drop me to the ground in a small quivering ball.

  The draugr screeched to a halt.

  We dashed forward.

  The pillars flashed by our sides. I ran to a stop and turned around, my ribs hurting.

  The undead giant strode toward us.

  The pillars flashed with deep amber.

  The draugr smashed into an invisible wall. Streaks of orange lightning clutched at his flesh. A deafening wail slapped my ears.

  “I will kill you! I will gnaw the flesh off your bones! I will pick my teeth with your femurs!”

  I vomited onto the ground.

  Next to me Curran patted my back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  The vampire next to me collapsed. The gashes on its body knitted together. A new pale skin slid over the cuts and began to smoke.

  “You owe me vampire blood,” I told him.

  “Yes, yes.” Ghastek sounded sour. “Do hand me that canvas before he burns to death.”

  I jerked the canvas off the cart and held it up. “I just want to hear you say it.”

  The vamp squirmed.

  I shook the canvas a bit.

  “Fine. The draugar do exist.”

  “And I was right.”

  “You were right. The canvas, Kate.”

  I draped it over the vampire and looked at Curran. “Did you hear that?”

  “I heard that.” Together we picked up the vampire and heaved the bloodsucker into the cart. “I still don’t believe it, but I heard it.”

  Two vampires dashed past the raging draugr, one purple, one orange. The remains of Ghastek’s super-squad.

  “Over here,” I waved. “Run to safety!”

  “Could the two of you gloat a little more?” Ghastek said.

  “Oh I could,” I said. “I definitely could.”

  The vampire pulled the canvas back and peeked out, staring in the direction of the glade. “Double or nothing.”

  “What?”

  “Double or nothing, Kate. I can take him.”

  Ghastek was a gambler. Knock me over with a feather. I sat on the cart. The draugr would rip them to pieces in ten minutes, tops.

  “Knock yourself out,” Curran told him. “We’ll wait right here.”


  “Don’t take too long,” I told him. “We have a child to save.”

  CHAPTER 10

  I knew that something was wrong by the look on the face of the werewolf who opened the door to the Pack’s safe house. The Pack owned several properties in the city, and after we were done clapping and cheering at the sight of Ghastek’s complete and utter failure, Curran and I had made a beeline for the nearest one to wash the undead nastiness off. The magic had fallen and with technology once again reasserting its grip on the world, Curran was eager to trade the cart for a Pack Jeep.

  When the male werewolf opened the door, his eyes had that particular look to them that meant some catastrophe had happened.

  “What is it?” Curran growled.

  The werewolf licked his lips.

  “Out with it,” Curran said.

  “Andrea Nash has been seen in the city, interviewing business owners.”

  “She is frequently in the city,” I said. “And interviewing is her job. She’s investigating some murders for the Pack.” Which I would look into as soon as we got Roderick out of that damned necklace.

  The werewolf took a small step back. “She’s doing it in her beastkin shape.”

  “Come again?”

  “She’s walking around in her beastkin shape. And some clothes.”

  All unaffiliated shapeshifters within the Pack’s borders were required to present themselves to the Pack within three days. Until now, the Pack had been able to deny all knowledge that Andrea was a shapeshifter, mostly because Curran made a very public point of ignoring it and nobody cared to bring it up.

  Well, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Andrea had pretty much made sure of that.

  It made no sense. Andrea almost never used her beastkin shape. In fact, she pretended to be human most of the time. Going out in her fur and claws for her would be equivalent to me taking off my clothes and parading through the city naked.

  Something had happened. Something really bad.

  I looked at Curran. “I guess we’d better go back to the office.”

  I walked through the office doors carrying a vampire’s head smeared in green sunblock. I had picked it up after the draugr had punted it out of the ward zone. It was beginning to smell and needed to be buried in ice ASAP.

  Andrea sat at her desk. She was wearing her beastkin shape, a perfect meld of human and hyena. It was a shape that could get her killed. Andrea’s father was a hyenawere, an animal who turned into a human. That made her beastkin, and many older shapeshifters would want to murder her on sight.

  “Want” being the operative word. Andrea could take care of herself. On top of that, I would help her, and Curran had made it plain that this was a prejudice he would not tolerate. He was waiting outside now in a parking lot a block away. I had asked him to give us a few minutes.

  Andrea’s feet were on the table. Her T-shirt was torn, her pants were in tatters, and a mess of blood and tissue stained both. She wiggled her clawed toes at me.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Andrea raised her hand. There was a bottle in it. She was drinking.

  I went into the kitchen, got a ceramic dish from under the sink, and deposited my vampire head inside the fridge. Then I came back, shrugged out of my sword sheath, and sat in the chair.

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Georgia Peach Iced Tea. Want some?” Andrea shook the bottle at me.

  “Sure.” I sipped it. FIRE. “What the hell is in this?”

  “Vodka, gin, rum, sweet and sour, and peach schnapps. Lots of peach schnapps.”

  I’d never seen her drink before. “Do you actually get a buzz from this?”

  “Sort of. It lasts for about thirty seconds or so and then I need another gulp.”

  I tried to think. Derek was back at the Keep, but I was pretty sure Ascanio should have reported to the office this morning. “Where is the bane of my existence?”

  “In the shower, freshening up.”

  Damn it all to hell. “Oh God, who did Ascanio screw now?”

  “No, no, he’s covered in blood.”

  “Oh good.” Wait a minute. “The kid is covered in blood and we’re relieved. There is something wrong with us.”

  “Tell me about it.” Andrea eyed me. “Not going to mention my beastkin appearance?”

  “I like it. The torn pants and gore-stained T-shirt is a nice touch.”

  She pointed her foot at me. “I was thinking of painting my claws a nice shade of pink.”

  Those claws were three inches long. “That would take a lot of nail polish. What about some golden hoops in your ears instead?”

  Andrea grinned, baring a row of sharp fangs. “It’s a definite possibility.”

  Okay, you know what, screw this. “What happened?”

  “I saw Raphael this morning. I’d called him last night, because Jim put me on some shapeshifter murders and I needed to interview him. I wanted a chance to apologize.”

  Raphael, you spoiled moron, what the hell did you do?

  I took her bottle and drank from it. I needed some alcohol for the next part. It tasted vile. I swallowed it down anyway. “How did it go?”

  “He replaced me.”

  “He what?”

  “He found another girl. She is seven feet tall, with breasts the size of honeydew melons, legs that start at her neck, bleached blond hair down to her ass, and her waist is this big around.” She touched her claws together. “They are engaged to be engaged.”

  Of all the stupid, idiotic things…“He brought her here?”

  “She sat in that chair right there.” She pointed at a chair. “I’m thinking of burning it.”

  Andrea loved Raphael the way birds loved the sky, and until a minute ago I would’ve sworn that he would have run into fire for her. “Did you punch him?”

  “Nope.” Andrea shook her head. “After he told me that his new sweetheart’s best quality is that she isn’t me, it didn’t seem like it would make any difference.”

  “Is she a shapeshifter?”

  “A human. Not a fighter. Not that bright either.” The false cheer evaporated from her voice. “I know what you’ll say—it’s my own fault.”

  I wish I knew the right words to say. “Well, you did check out of his life. You checked out of my life for a while.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Andrea looked away.

  Raphael was spoiled. He was handsome, and treasured by both his mother and Clan Bouda in general, but he was never known for being mean or cruel. He was also the male alpha of Clan Bouda. He had to have known exactly what sort of risks he faced by bringing another woman and shoving her at Andrea. He had to have done it to provoke a reaction. The next time we met I’d pound his face into ground beef.

  Still…I couldn’t believe that there was no method to his madness. He’d chased Andrea for months and he’d won her, then lost her. Perhaps this was some sort of stupid attempt to make her chase him.

  “Are you going to fight for him?”

  Andrea stared at me like I was crazy. “What?”

  “Are you going to fight for him, or are you going to roll over on your back and take it?”

  “Look who’s talking. How long did it take you and Curran to have a conversation after that whole dinner mess? Was it three weeks or more like a month?”

  I arched my eyebrow at her. “That’s different. That was a misunderstanding.”

  “Aha.”

  “He brought his new main squeeze here after you called him with a peace offering. That’s a slap in the face.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that. I know.” Andrea growled.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  I wasn’t sure she felt Raphael was worth fighting for. But once, when I was in a really bad place, Andrea had told me that she felt like being with Raphael had healed her. She’d said he was picking up broken pieces of her and putting them back together. Well, all the pieces had fallen again, and A
ndrea was trying to reassemble herself on her own.

  I’d seen Andrea fight. I’d seen her in unguarded moments, taken over by bloodlust and rage. Raphael would have to tread very carefully, because whether she decided that she wanted him or revenge, nothing would stop her.

  I tried to pick my words carefully. “Nothing is free. If you want it, you have to fight for it.”

  “I’m thinking about it,” she said. “How did your day go?”

  “I got some head. It was vamp, but still.”

  “That good, huh.”

  “Yup.”

  “I have a glass monster corpse for you. It’s in the freezer.”

  I gave her a nice smile. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s a bribe for putting up with my psychotic break.”

  The car motor started up. Curran had gotten tired of waiting.

  “That’s my ride,” I said.

  The door swung open, and Curran walked in. I held my breath. Having Andrea and him at each other’s throats would be more than I could take.

  Andrea rose to her feet.

  A show of respect for the Beast Lord. I decided that breathing was a good thing.

  Curran nodded to Andrea. I got up too, walked over to him, and kissed him, just in case he was entertaining any violent thoughts. He winked at me.

  “Hold on, let me grab the vamp head.” I went to the back and got my head.

  When I came out, carrying the head in a plastic bag, Andrea and Curran were still in one piece and had been joined by a freshly washed Ascanio.

  I waved at Andrea, and Curran and I went to the car. Ascanio tried to linger behind, but Curran looked at him, and the kid decided he’d better follow us.

  We got into the car and pulled away.

  “And how did your day go?” I asked Ascanio.

  He turned to me, a dreamy look on his pretty face. “We killed things. There was blood. Fountains of blood. And then we had barbecue.”

  Why me?

  When we walked through the doors of the Keep, Doolittle was waiting for us. Roderick’s necklace had turned the color of white gold. He was having trouble breathing. The next magic wave could be his last.

  Ten minutes later we rode out of the Keep in a Pack vehicle. Curran drove. I sat in the passenger seat, holding a bowl of jewelry and bullets for our offering. Doolittle and the boy sat in the back. Roderick whistled with every breath, and Curran drove like a maniac to the north leyline, his hands locked on the wheel, his face a grim mask. We reached the leypoint in record time and he didn’t slow down as he drove the Jeep off the ramp into the invisible magic current. The magic clutched the car and dragged it north to the mountains. Whether magic or technology was in ascendance, the leylines always flowed and I was damn grateful for their existence.