The Dark

by Cheyenne McCray

  At the same time he needed to figure out where Darkwolf was and go after the sonofabitch. He didn’t have his god-containment weapon yet, but, just maybe, he didn’t need it.

  * * *

  Such incredibly potent magic surged through Cassia that her body burned with it. Her hair and clothing felt like they would fall to ash from the strength of her powers.

  “I will stay outside your fire,” Kael said in her mind before he lunged at a Stormcutter, took him down, and tore into his throat. “I cannot fight if I stay with you.”

  Cassia went to work releasing another burst of fire. “Take care.”

  Fire ringed her, flaring outward and blasting funnels into nothing as she moved into the swirling, shouting, screaming insanity. If her magic stuttered even a moment, she knew the Stormcutters would be on her in seconds.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  She was too strong, too powerful, with magic that had magnified with her ascension. Maybe she hadn’t obtained her full abilities without going through the transition, but what she had gained made her feel nearly invincible. At least in this battle.

  For the briefest of seconds her failure at identifying the traitor flashed through Cassia’s mind, but she shoved thoughts of it away.

  Justice would come, sooner rather than later. Her powers told her that much.

  The ring of fire that surrounded Cassia protected her enough that she could assess some of what was happening around her.

  Where is Jake? Her heart pounded harder at the thought that he could be injured or dead, and she wanted to find him to make sure he was all right.

  Jake will be okay. She blasted more Stormcutters. He’ll be okay.

  Rain pelted the Alliance, but most of what came toward Cassia evaporated before it reached her. Still, she had to concentrate to see through the downpour outside her circle of flames.

  Fog curled around the bases of funnels as the mist wove its way over the muddy, grassy field. Intermittently, Mystwalkers rose from the mist. In fluid motions, they silently removed their collars and sliced through water funnels.

  At once each of those funnels came to a stop, the water splashed onto the ground, and pale, bloodied, tattooed men crumpled to the sodden battlefield, their bodies often in pieces.

  By the time the Stormcutters had dropped, the Mystwalkers had already returned to their mist forms and moved on to their next targets.

  Cassia continued to force fire and heat from her body, eliminating Stormcutters while being careful not to hurt anyone from the Alliance.

  At times she was forced to jerk her flames back before they singed a PSF officer or a Marine.

  Screams and shouts, along with the roar of battle cries, rose above the rumble of thunder. Cassia soon smelled blood and death that blended with the sour stench of the Stormcutters.

  Her stomach churned and her heart ached for those of the Alliance whose bodies now littered the ground next to dead Stormcutters.

  Anger fed her magic, and for a brief moment she thought she would lose control and obliterate everything and everyone near her. She fought to command her powers and won—barely.

  Sparks of witches’ magic erupted across the battlefield and a knot formed in Cassia’s throat. Before, the witches had always worked in tandem, close to one another even when they paired up with a D’Danann warrior or PSF officer.

  Now—

  No. She couldn’t pause to think about what had shredded the Coven’s sisterhood and shattered it beyond repair.

  Cassia’s magic obliterated every Stormcutter that neared her. The power inside her magnified, growing stronger the more she used it.

  Drow arrows cut swiftly and silently through the rain, the diamond heads exploding in the chests of every Stormcutter the arrows pierced.

  Cassia spotted Hannah and Garran in the middle of the field. Banshee, her falcon, ripped out Stormcutter eyes and shredded their faces with his talons. Hannah was actually using gray magic in her spellfire to burn off the heads of the Stormcutters. With his sword, Garran took down every Stormcutter that Hannah missed.

  D’Anu didn’t kill, gray magic or no.

  Hannah was, though, and from her expression it was without any reservations or regret.

  The witches were no longer a Coven. There were no longer any Coven gray-magic guidelines.

  Cassia shook off the queasy thoughts it gave her as she belted out more fire. Being Elvin, Cassia had no reservations about killing evil. It just seemed strange to see any of her former Coven sisters doing the same.

  From the sky, D’Danann beheaded Stormcutters. The warriors’ powerful wings held them safely above the water funnels.

  Marines and PSF officers fought with courage and fortitude. On every man’s and woman’s face Cassia saw only fierce intensity to destroy their enemies.

  But too many Marines and PSF officers were being killed, even using the Mystwalker collars. Funnel after funnel appeared, and Cassia’s stomach sickened as she began to wonder if this entire battle was futile. If any of the Alliance would survive.

  Cassia caught the eerie sounds of laughter—both male and female—that somehow reached her through thunder, gunfire, screams, and shouts on the battlefield.

  Somewhere in the midst of the melee, the traitor was laughing.

  And so was Darkwolf.

  So much anger surged within Cassia that again she almost lost control of her flames. For several minutes she had to focus solely on eliminating Stormcutters around her. Long enough to rein in what could wreak devastation amongst the Alliance if she wasn’t cautious.

  It was so hard. Rage and horror balled tightly inside her as she saw people she knew lying on the now bloody muck of the field. Dead, dying, or injured. Too many of them had fallen.

  Cassia passed by Copper and Silver, who worked with their D’Danann husbands to kill Stormcutters. Silver’s python moved faster than Cassia had ever seen him. He wrapped his long body around every Stormcutter that came close to Silver, and quickly squeezed the man until his bones snapped and crunched and the Stormcutter fell lifeless to the ground.

  Copper’s bee familiar was probably doing his bee-stinging thing, causing allergic reactions and holding up every Stormcutter he could. The rain was no doubt hard on Zephyr, but he had strong magic. He was not even close to being an ordinary honey bee.

  Silver’s husband, Hawk, and Copper’s husband, Tiernan, both hovered nearby, their wings giving them power and strength to battle from above—and likely to snatch their lovers out of harm’s way if need be.

  On and on the Alliance fought the Stormcutters. The roar of battle and the stench that accompanied it added to the queasiness in Cassia’s belly.

  With determination, she worked her way through the mass of funnels, trying to get to the opposite side of the field where Darkwolf might be watching.

  Oh, she knew he was watching. And enjoying.

  Alyssa’s familiar, Echo, gave loud hoots nearby, startling Cassia.

  She slipped in a slick of mud and landed on her hands and knees next to three bodies. The force jarred her so much her teeth clacked together and she almost lost hold of her fire. She slipped as she tried to scramble to her feet. She dropped again, slid in the muck, and twisted onto her back.

  Her concentration shattered and her ring of fire broke.

  Funnels swarmed her so quickly that terror expanded in her chest and she thought her ribs would crack.

  A circle of five Stormcutters came to a stop, and a surge of water splashed her face and body as men surrounded her.

  Panic ripped through Cassia when her fire didn’t answer her call. Still flat on her back, she only managed a fistful of flame and flung it at one of the Stormcutters.

  Not enough!

  The Stormcutter she hit with her ball of flame shouted and dropped, but the other four raised their ice daggers.

  Cassia screamed and grabbed the collar from her neck as she tried to draw on her magic. She couldn’t even transport out of the middle of the men.
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  Something dark and heavy, something completely evil, clung to her powers, keeping her magic out of reach.

  With all her might, she sliced out with the dagger and took one of the men down at the knees before swiping the belly of another Stormcutter, causing his guts to spill from the gaping wound.

  The other men drove their daggers toward her and she tried to summon her fire again, even as she felt the black power, Darkwolf’s duo-god power, pressing her down.

  Goddess! It can’t end like this.

  Gunfire exploded over her head.

  Four rapid shots echoed in her ears as the two remaining Stormcutters dropped.

  She jerked her gaze up and saw Jake in a protective stance above her. He grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. He met her eyes only a fraction of a moment, as if to check to make sure she was all right, before he turned his attention to more Stormcutters whirling closer.

  The torrent of rain nearly blinded her—she’d become accustomed to having the ring of fire evaporate most of what had poured on top of her.

  Fire. I need my fire!

  Cassia spotted Alyssa through the melee, and saw the witch using her ropes of magic to strangle Stormcutters. Even she had thrown out the book on do’s and don’ts of gray-magic witches.

  That awful darkness still clung to Cassia’s magic as more Stormcutters came at her and Jake.

  With all the power she had, she tried to fling the darkness away. It stuck to her magic like a leech and began sucking it from her.

  No!

  Cassia struggled against the horrible pull. She used her Mystwalker blade and her centuries of hand-to-hand training to fight at the same time she called to her magic.

  She more than called to it. She screamed at her powers to obey. She was a Guardian ascending, and her magic would do her bidding!

  The intensity of her determination reeled in some of her magic. Fire burst from her fingertips.

  Not enough! Not all of it.

  Even as she gutted and beheaded more Stormcutters, she fought to bring her magic back inside her.

  She jerked hard while pushing away the evilness that clung to her magic.

  Cassia almost tumbled back as her magic slammed back into her, clean of dark sorcery.

  A ring of fire circled her and Jake.

  In her mind she thought she heard someone’s shout of frustration and rage.

  Cassia put the dagger’s hilt near her throat and it formed a collar around her neck once again.

  She glanced at Jake, who stood beside her, holding his weapon in a two-handed grip, his jaws tight and his expression fierce. He fired one bullet after another through her flames, taking out targets too far for her magic to reach without hurting one of the good guys along the way.

  “Where do you think Darkwolf is?” Cassia sounded and felt winded as she spoke.

  Jake glanced up at the luxury boxes. “Probably enjoying the show from the best seats in the house.”

  The sick feeling in Cassia’s belly magnified as she saw the sheer number of water funnels between them and the luxury boxes.

  She reached out with her enhanced senses. Now that she knew where to look, she had a better chance of locating Darkwolf.

  “There!” she shouted to Jake as her senses touched Darkwolf’s black presence. “In the luxury box directly behind home plate.”

  Jake gave a sharp nod and moved with her as she used her fire to cut a path through the battle, toward Darkwolf.

  While still keeping her fire in place, Cassia glanced around them.

  Sydney came into view, her husband, Conlan, fighting by her side. Her Doberman, Chaos, ripped out throats or the genitals of every nearby Stormcutter who revealed himself.

  Cassia and Jake continued to work their way through the madness. Rhiannon and her husband, Keir, backed each other not much farther ahead. Rhiannon had unleashed her Shadows, which were strangling and tearing apart Stormcutters.

  Strangling.

  Cassia’s thoughts bounced from Rhiannon to Alyssa, who were both using their powers to strangle opponents tonight.

  No time to think about that.

  A sea of Stormcutters continued to hammer the Alliance.

  Cassia’s chest ached as the truth hit her.

  The Alliance was losing.

  Hopelessness swirled through her like black water flowing down a rusted drainpipe. Not hopelessness for herself, but for all the beings in the Alliance. All the people of San Francisco.

  Just as the magnitude started to crush her and grind her into the earth, the stadium rumbled.

  A sudden shift in energy had Cassia jerking her attention toward left field. It seemed as though every member of the Alliance felt it, too. Even the Stormcutters slowed their spinning. It was almost as if the very ground tilted.

  Bellows of rage—or confusion—tore across the field, coming from the luxury boxes.

  Darkwolf! What is he doing?

  Cassia’s fire ring flickered as she looked from the location the bellows had come from and back to left field. What’s happening?

  She thought her head would explode from redoubled fear.

  Was this a new foe they had to face when they were already devastated by losses? Were they doomed by a new threat?

  A rumble rolled through the stadium.

  Familiar war cries ripped through the air and Cassia’s jaw dropped at the roar of the countless shouts.

  It couldn’t be.

  But it had to be.

  How?

  Cassia’s heart nearly stopped then welled with hope again.

  Her people had come.

  They had come!

  “What is it?” Jake was shouting, his voice thundering above all the yelling.

  Through the rain she saw the gleam of polished Elvin bows, and the glint of swords in the stadium lights.

  It is. It really is!

  The ranks charged toward the battle with the litheness and stealth only her people possessed.

  “It’s them,” Cassia yelled back, joy fueling her fire, raising the flames around them. “The Light Elves have joined the battle!”

  28

  “That was almost too easy.” Elizabeth moved closer to the luxury box’s thick glass as she stared out at the battle. “I expected more from the Alliance than this pathetic resistance.”

  “So did I.” Darkwolf looped his arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. Her passion fruit scent teased his senses as she leaned against him, her head on his muscular arm. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s definitely been too easy.”

  He released her, moved away, and placed his palm to the cool glass. One man or woman after another dropped to the muddy ground, Alliance and Stormcutter alike.

  He drummed his fingers against the window. His murdering traitor had told him at least three thousand members of the Alliance would meet his five thousand Stormcutters on the field.

  Even though his creations outnumbered the Alliance’s ranks, Darkwolf couldn’t help but feel that something was off.

  “Don’t get too comfortable yet,” he murmured, to himself as much as Elizabeth.

  She shrugged and leaned her hip against the window as she looked up at him. “I don’t see why not. Look how much their numbers have dwindled. Our defense is far stronger.”

  He let the comment slide past as he analyzed the battle.

  A part of him still clung to the hope that one witch, Silver Ashcroft, had remained unscathed. He scowled. His infatuation with her was long over.

  Darkwolf studied the ring of fire that continued to move in the direction of the luxury box he and Elizabeth were in. For a moment he’d been able to hamper the Elvin witch’s magic with his own, but she’d flung it away. He ground his teeth at the thought. He should have more power over her than that when her defenses were down.

  No matter. Soon the Alliance would be destroyed.

  A rumble jerked his attention to one end of the field.

  Darkwolf shouted, the sound of his god-voice rolling out like t
hunder.

  “Who are those people, those warriors?” Panic edged Elizabeth’s tone. “Where did they come from?”

  Darkwolf’s heart thrummed as his god’s senses told him exactly who they were. “Light Elves.” He clenched his teeth. “From Otherworld.”

  “Look at the Stormcutters.” Elizabeth took a step back from the glass. “They’re dropping. Fast.”

  Hundreds of arrows hurtled through the night, across the battlefield, taking out one target after another. It seemed like the moment a funnel came to a stop and a Stormcutter appeared, an Elvin arrow pierced his chest.

  Darkwolf had unleashed every Stormcutter he had on the Alliance, confident he could create more of the beings in the time it took human government and the military to get their shit together and retaliate.

  In the meantime he and his Blades would convert at least a million men into deadly Stormcutters, whether the men did so willingly or not.

  Darkwolf had been sure that by the time the government and military came at him, he would have more than enough Stormcutters to repel any attack.

  But right now he couldn’t afford to lose all of his Stormcutters, especially his Blades. It took a great deal of Darkwolf’s magic to create the Blades, because he gave them the power to transform men into Stormcutters.

  Elizabeth looked from the battlefield to Darkwolf. “What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing we can.” Darkwolf reeled in the storm and sent his remaining Stormcutters to the hiding place he had prepared in case they were discovered in the stadium.

  “Retreat.”

  29

  I grind my teeth as the storm rolls away, taking with it the remaining Stormcutters.

  Even though so many died, many of the Alliance members survived.

  And the Light Elves. What the hell are they doing here? At least a thousand of them are on the field, helping those who are injured now that the Stormcutters are gone.

  I relish the stench of death because it means Darkwolf and I are coming closer to our goal.