She braced herself, expecting bones to crack as she slammed into a wall. Instead, Ascher threw himself in her path, and both of them hit the ground, skidding across the chipped shards of concrete, peeling off layers of their skin as they went.
Draven had throwing knives tucked everywhere he could wedge a weapon, and began systematically throwing them, aiming for the dragon’s most vulnerable spots, while the rest of the guys dodged from pillar to pillar, using the concrete as shelter as they distracted the dragon. Most of the weapons pinged off the beast, the moving target hard to hit. One blade scratched his eyeball, which only made him more crazed.
Shade stood at the opposite corner, tossing spells with the same frequency, each cracking over the dragon’s protective hide. Sparks danced over his scales like lightning. Even though protected by scales, his flesh jumped and spasmed.
Kincade and Atlas were bolder in their attack, while Ryder darted back and forth in his wolf form, providing a distraction. The dragon swatted at the phoenix, sending the flames flickering as he tried to pin the bird to the spot, snapping at the flames as if he could put out the flames by eating them. The dragon arched back and inhaled deeply.
“Run!”
Everyone scattered as fire engulfed the room, Kincade pausing long enough to scoop Loki up in his arms before leaping over a pile of rubble in a single bound.
Ascher twisted, covering her with his body, hunching over to protect her face. Heat engulfed the room, the stones around them wilting as they melted, and she waited to feel flames lick along her flesh.
She opened her eyes to see the fire dance around them. Steam rose from their clothes and darkened. Intense heat kissed her skin…but she didn’t burn. She and Ascher gazed at each other in awe for a few seconds, then she nodded at him. As the flames began to flicker and die down, they rose to their feet and strode toward the dragon.
Ascher walked into the blaze without a hint of fear, his clothes bursting into flames immediately. As they burned away in tatters, his eyes began to glow, his bones snapping, his body stretching until he stood in his hellhound form. Hints of red, like molten lava, flowed in rivulets through cracks of his hide, shimmering along his neck, deep into his chest, down his spine, and over his legs, as if he could no longer contain the flames of hell.
Morgan dodged the dragon’s lashing tail, searching for an opening where she wouldn’t be swatted like a pesky bug, when Ryder darted into the fray, sinking his claws into the tail, refusing to release his hold as the beast dragged and whipped the wolf around like a toy. Infuriated when he couldn’t dislodge the dog like some annoying burr, the dragon whirled and banged his tail repeatedly against a pillar, when one particular nasty hit caught Ryder in a crushing blow.
The wolf yipped as he lost his hold, his limp body spinning across the floor.
Her heart leapt in her throat, and Morgan was unable tear her gaze away from the still form until Ryder finally shook his head and staggered to his feet.
He was alive.
When the dragon’s focus latched onto her, Ascher darted forward with a snarl, his claws slashing at the beast’s hindquarter, scoring deep scratches in the scales and leaving behind a trail of oozing blood.
The dragon roared and snapped at Ascher with lethal teeth, and the paralysis holding Morgan shattered. Determination to end the fight and protect her men was the only thing that mattered. She grabbed a piece of twisted rebar from the freshly broken concrete and rammed the makeshift spear through the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Sharp teeth pierced her arm, scoring deep lines down her arm when he reared back.
Blood poured down her arm as the dragon reared back and shook his head, trying to jam his full foot in his mouth to remove the stake. The phoenix swooped forward, darting right into the beast’s mouth just before the dragon snapped his jaw shut.
As if he had swallowed pure light, the dragon’s throat began to glow a vibrant orange before it sank to his stomach. The radiance spread over every inch of his skin, and the dragon staggered to remain upright. Tiny embers floated in the air and ash began to swirl in the room. Soon, so many sparks were churning in the air it looked like someone had stirred a large pit of coals.
The dragon stumbled as it lurched away from them. Ascher, once again in his human form and wearing only a pair of pants, pulled her into his arms and the others joined them. Shade appeared dazed, his mouth slightly parted as he stared at the dragon. When he glanced at her team and met her eyes, he looked spooked.
By her.
Kincade lifted his blade, hacking off the bottom of his shirt, then gently lifted her arm and quickly wrapped the makeshift field bandage over the shredded flesh. But Morgan couldn’t take her gaze away from the dragon, watching as the beast dragged his tail behind him, as if it was too heavy to lift.
Then the great creature collapsed to the floor and exploded into a ball of angry flames.
When the sparks landed and burned out, ash gently floated and danced through the air, coating everything.
A small flame was all that remained.
Her heart felt heavy, saddened at the destruction of such a majestic creature, even if it had been trying to kill her.
Morgan edged forward as the last of the sparks dimmed and grew cold.
“Morgan…”
She peered at Ascher distractedly over her shoulder and lifted her hand. “Just give me a second.”
An outline of the dragon lay scorched in the concrete floor. Kincade and the others joined her, watching as she placed one knee on the floor next to what remained of the flame. The sight of Kincade cradling Loki in his arms softened her heart as he absently brushed his fingers between the mutt’s ears, the little guy eagerly lifting his head for each stroke.
She turned away from the sight, staring blankly at the floor and the dying flame.
“That stupid little phoenix.” Her whole chest ached over the loss of the bird. Even her back felt cold without the little nuisance. “He gave his life to save ours.”
“The phoenix must have known the dragon’s weakness.” Shade came to stand next to her guys, his eyes a little wider than normal. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She reached out, seeking the comforting heat as the last bit of fire struggled to remain lit. As soon as her hand touched the flame, the tip licked weakly at her skin in goodbye and winked out.
Morgan grunted and fell forward onto her hands as pain seared along her back, the heat following a single line like a fuse to a piece of dynamite.
“Morgan!” Atlas dropped next to her, tucking her hair away from her face to lift her chin. “Where?”
“Back.”
Draven grabbed her shoulders when her arms began to shake, while Ascher’s warm grip went to her hips as they eased her to the ground, careful not to jostle her back. Ryder in his wolf form plopped down in front of her, determinedly nudging his head under her hand.
Morgan felt her shirt and tank top being rolled up, then there was silence.
That couldn’t be good.
“Spill it.”
The pain leveled off, her breathing returning to normal, and she finally glanced at the others to see them all staring down at her back.
Even Loki didn’t blink.
“Kincade.” The sharp tone of her voice had his head snapping up, and she raised a brow at him.
Atlas, who remained at her side, ran a finger gently over her back, as if tracing something, his light touch making her shiver. “The phoenix is a bit faded, but he survived.”
Morgan twisted to see, but to no avail. “You sure?”
For some ridiculous reason, despite the dangers, Morgan was relieved, the tightness in her chest easing. She went through a lot of trouble to save the phoenix, and he deserved more than to die trying to rescue her.
“Yes, the colors have faded, turned almost ghostly in spots, but there is a clear outline. He spent most of his energy saving us, but he’s alive. Without you as a host, I suspect he would’ve died.”
“Only the very old
, the very strong, can rise from the ashes.” Shade tore his gaze from her back to look at her. “You could’ve let him burn out.”
No, she couldn’t.
“He saved our lives.” To her, nothing more needed to be said. Then Morgan bit her lip uneasily, wondering if her rash actions just put her team in more danger. “How long do I have before he tries to rip free and kills me?”
Shade shook his head. “I think you’ve just earned yourself one of the deadliest familiars known to paranormals.”
“Say what?” Morgan blinked up at him. Kincade had suggested the same thing, but she thought he said it in jest, hope and wishful thinking on his part.
“He chose you. Twice. From the way you withstood the near-incendiary heat from the dragon without turning crispy, he’s obviously bonded with you on a deeper level, sharing with you his ability to withstand fire. His duty is now to protect you.” Shade glanced around the destroyed room and shook his head. “The way you get into trouble, I doubt he has any intention of ever leaving you.”
It was the last thing she expected him to say, and Morgan’s mind went blank at the news. She always assumed binding a familiar was nothing more than slavery, but the connection she felt with the phoenix felt more like a partnership.
“The sigil is gone.” Kincade knelt on the other side of her and touched the unblemished skin of her shoulder. “Your body must have finally processed and expelled the trapped magic. You’re free.”
A very naughty, malicious idea occurred to her, and she pushed herself upright, ignoring the way her limbs shook slightly. “What do you say we return and give Katar a little surprise?”
His smile started slowly, the corner of his eyes crinkling with delight, and he offered her his hand as he stood. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say since we’ve first arrived in this god-ridden place.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Morgan stood before the gate once again, more than ready to leave Tartarus, Loki chittering his agreement from his perch on her shoulder. The guys were once more in their human forms. Though battered, they were standing and alive. Kincade and Draven had minor scratches, Ryder had more than a few cracked ribs, while Ascher was a bit banged up, though relatively unharmed.
Atlas was the most changed, his evolution into a dark elf unabated. Out of the sun, his skin had once more taken on a pale lavender tint, his hair containing more silver. Even his emerald green eyes had changed, containing slivers of dark burnt umber.
He gently turned her arm, his magic a gentle caress against her skin, healing the deep gouges from the dragon to manageable scratches that no longer oozed blood. He watched her intently, waiting for her to freak out about being so close to him.
When the magic faded, she grabbed his hands and squeezed. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” The worry in his eyes cleared slightly, and he bowed slightly to her, seemingly stunned at her acceptance.
Eventually he would learn that he was one of them, even if she had to beat it into him.
She turned back toward the gate, not wanting to linger a moment longer.
She wasn’t sure they would survive another fight.
“Why aren’t you able to open the portal?” She directed her question at Shade, wondering why he’d waited for her arrival to make his escape, when he had any number of gods who could’ve helped him leave much earlier and saved himself so much grief.
“I don’t have the power to control the gate. I’ve searched our databases for anyone born with the right gifts, but I’ve never run across anyone with the right bloodline.” He stared at her intently, almost deferential, so different from their meeting in the office a few hours ago.
“What do you mean?” His answer, combined with his spooked look, raised the hair on the back of her neck. “You think some of the gods escaped imprisonment in Tartarus?”
“Don’t you? While you don’t have access to your full magic, you’re incredibly powerful. You have the ability to control metal, not to mention you carry the key to the worlds around your neck like a trinket.” His eyes dropped betrayingly to the necklace tucked under her shirt. “You’re certainly more than a lowly demigod.”
Morgan was flabbergasted, her brain overloaded by his supposition. Worse, she couldn’t deny it. She was a descendant of the Titans on her mother’s side. No one ever spoke a word about her father’s identity.
But the guys’ reactions—or rather, lack of them—astonished her the most.
None of them seemed a bit surprised.
Morgan whirled away from them and the conversation, not ready to deal with the implications, more than ready to go home.
She brought the mask back up to her face, the metal expanding once more, the liquid metal forming around her eyes and temple. To her relief, the gate sparked to life, the two circles began to spin in opposite directions, the sigils glowing and waiting for her directions. She quickly dialed the gate home.
When the portal opened, a bright light blasted through the room. Disorientation struck her harder than last time, and she felt herself free-falling, only to slam hard onto the ground. Her knees buckled, and she found herself on her hands and knees on a familiar stone floor.
When Morgan lifted her head, the world appeared as if only a few seconds had passed. She quickly tore off her mask, the metal spinning and twisting, reshaping until it looked like a snake was coiled around the necklace, slithering down the chain.
A warning.
Everyone moved in slow motion, and she could actually see time speed up. She heard thudding behind her and saw the guys, including Shade, tumble out of the gate. Before she could turn, the sharp edge of a blade touched her neck.
“Get up.” Not waiting for her to comply, Katar grabbed her arm and hauled her none too gently to her feet. Madness blazed in his eyes as he stared at her greedily. “Where is my magic?”
“There.” Morgan pointed toward the gate, careful not to move as blood began to trickle down her neck.
Katar dragged her forward, waving the guys back, until only the two of them stood on the platform. “I want my magic.”
“Of course.” Morgan waved the guys away when they looked ready to charge up the stairs to her rescue. “We just need to touch the gate to transfer the power.”
His girlish, high-pitched giggle sent a shiver down her spine. He grabbed her hand and slammed it against the stone, never once moving the blade from her throat, then touched the gate almost reverently.
The instant he took his eyes off her, Morgan grabbed the arm with the blade, nearly gagging when her fingers sank into the slimy, spongy rotten flesh, then leaned forward, flinging him over her shoulder. Instead of slamming into the wall, he passed right through the gate and disappeared.
The ancient magic powering the gate vanished, becoming a solid wall once more. When she turned, Ward ripped the collar off his neck and advanced on the guards. They immediately turned tail and ran back into the cavern of horrors.
“Morgan—”
“He wanted magic, I gave him magic,” she protested before Kincade could take her to task.
“You sent him to Tartarus.” Draven grinned at her sense of justice. “I can’t wait for him to meet Athena.”
“You should’ve killed him,” Kincade groused, clearly frustrated at not being able to vent his anger. “No one can come back from the dead.”
Glad to have escaped hell, literally, she sighed and gazed with pleasure at her men.
Ryder took the stairs two at a time, then tipped his head to the side to inspect the wound on her neck. He gently brushed his thumb against her pulse where the blade had rested, and she couldn’t help leaning into his solid frame. The man was sinfully attractive, but up close he was downright gorgeous, the blond highlights giving him a dangerous edge that was irresistibly attractive. Giving into temptation, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay, big guy.”
Ryder stilled, his whisky brown eyes darkening as he stared down at her. Then he snappe
d, crushing his mouth to hers, bending her over backwards with his hunger. He growled low in his throat, taking what he wanted, as if he feared he would be pulled away and never get another chance.
His hands clamped down on her hips, then swept her off her feet as he kissed the daylights out of her. Morgan shivered at his strength, the warmth of his muscles pressed deliciously against hers sent her head spinning, and she couldn’t resist sinking her fingers in his shaggy brown hair. When he gently lowered her and pulled away, Morgan blinked, nearly whimpering before snuggling into his arms as she struggled to understand what just happened.
At his grunt, she jumped back, remembering his broken ribs. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.” Instead of letting her escape, he gave her one last squeeze, then set her away from him. His face was flushed, his breathing erratic, his eyes wild as he stared at her hungrily. He certainly was getting over his aversion to being touched, and she shivered again as she imagined what it would be like when he really lost control.
“Was your mission successful?” Ward broke the moment when he spoke, not really seeming surprised to see they’d survived.
Morgan blushed. She’d totally forgotten they had an audience.
“I’m not sure.” She cleared her throat and glanced at Shade to see him staring blankly down at his hands, looking as dazed as she felt. “Shade?”
“I’m mortal.” He lifted his head and looked at her, his expression completely stunned.
“What?” All the blood drained from her head. “How?”
“The transfer through the gate…” His violet blue eyes darkened, and he touched the binding mark on his chest. “Something must have gone wrong, a possible toll that must be paid.”
Horror spread through Morgan when the meaning of what he said sank into her. “I never intended to take your immortality.”
“No one lives forever, even immortals.” Shade gave her a grim smile. “You might be powerful, but I doubt even you have the ability to steal someone’s godhood. I’m alive—it’s more than I expected yesterday.”
Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2) Page 27
