“What’s going on?” Oz demanded. He was tall, with dirty-blond hair that fell over his forehead and ears, broad shoulders, and a thick, powerful body. He reminded Alexander of a bull. He probably weighed one and a half times what Alexander did. He was also Sun-spear Prime, which made him very dangerous.
“That is what we are hoping to figure out,” Alexander said before Giselle could answer.
Oz scowled. “What does that mean?”
“Follow me.” Outside, Alexander hesitated. Something tickled at the edges of his perceptions. It was a presence—vast and alien. It was different from what he had felt from the column of smoke, and it was close. He jerked around to the others. “Can you feel that?
“What is it?” Niko asked.
“It’s powerful, like a Guardian,” Xaphan said slowly, his eyes flattening.
“Guardians can’t remember we exist,” Giselle said. “Max made sure of that with the hailstone, and if it hadn’t worked, you wouldn’t be members of Horngate today. It has to be something else.”
“What else is that strong?” Niko asked.
“I don’t know,” Oz answered. “But taking Giselle out of the Keep with something like that hanging around is too dangerous. She needs to stay inside.” He reached for her arm and swung her around.
Oz was right, as far as it went, but the column of smoke was a threat they had to deal with now. Giselle had to deal with it. “I do not think this can wait.” Alexander looked at Tutresiel, not caring whether Oz agreed or not. Nor did he ask for Giselle’s opinion. “Carry the witch, and keep to the air until I tell you to land.” To Xaphan. “Kill anything that attacks them. You other two, follow me.”
He started off. Behind him, he heard Tutresiel and Xaphan launch into the air. Oz and Niko hurtled after Alexander. Oz came abreast of him, his Prime frothing with rage.
“If she gets hurt, I’ll make sure you pay,” he growled from between clenched teeth. “I may teach you a lesson or two anyhow.”
“You can try,” Alexander promised. “But I may do a little teaching of my own.”
The feeling of the presence grew stronger as they approached the perimeter wards and the hidden ravine. Alexander looked up at the angels. They circled above and slightly behind, with Giselle cradled against Tutresiel’s chest.
He led the way up to the top of the ridge above the ravine directly overlooking the column of smoke. Oz and Niko crouched on either side of him.
“Shit. What is that?” Oz asked, his attention riveting on the column, his anger turning into cold focus.
The smoke had grown more turbulent since they’d left. But Alexander’s gaze went instantly to Tyler, who was lying unmoving on the hillside. Around him and on top of him sprawled enormous dogs. They must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds apiece and stood three feet or more at the shoulder. They were blue-black, with thick ruffs of fur that ran around their necks and down their backs like a lion’s mane. The rest of their heavy-boned bodies were covered in bearlike fur, and their heads were broad and square, with luminescent green eyes. Their long tails curled over their backs like feather plumes.
The entire pack turned in unison to look up the slope at the watching men.
“I count thirteen,” Niko whispered.
“They are not alone,” Alexander said, jerking his chin toward an outcropping on the other side of the ravine. A woman sat cross-legged on top, gazing at the column with rapt attention. Her short hair was vibrant red, her body comfortably curved. She was dressed in loose green pants and a matching tunic. Her feet were bare. She looked almost ordinary. But her eyes glowed the same green as the dogs’, and there was no doubt that she was the powerful presence they had all been sensing. That made her anything but ordinary.
“Tyler’s alive,” Niko said tightly. “His chest is moving. I don’t know for how much longer. We have to get him out of there.”
Before Alexander could agree, the sound of wings whistling through the air close overhead made him spin around. Tutresiel settled on the ground with Giselle, and Xaphan dropped just beyond him.
“What the hell?” Oz’s words were as sharp and hard as bullets. “Get Giselle out of here.”
For once, Alexander agreed with Oz. He stalked forward and stopped in front of Tutresiel, seething. But the angel did not even look at him. His gaze was fixed on the scene beyond, and he looked . . . scared. There was no other word for it. That caught Alexander up short, his fury cooling instantly. Tutresiel was afraid of nothing.
“Explain,” Alexander ordered, wasting no words.
Giselle started to push away so that she could get closer, and Oz slid an unyielding arm around her waist. “Hush,” he said, hardly looking at her when she started to protest. Like Alexander, he fixed his attention on Tutresiel.
As if aware he had given away too much, an expressionless mask slid over the angel’s features, but he could not tear his attention away from the woman and her dogs.
“Who are they?” Alexander prodded impatiently.
Tutresiel jerked his head side to side. “I don’t know. No one knows exactly.”
“Why don’t you tell us what you do know?” Oz suggested.
The angel flicked a bloody look at the Sunspear and then back. “There are five of them. If you see one, it can be a blessing or a curse. If you see all five, it is conflagration.”
“That is gibberish,” Alexander snapped. “Speak plainly. What is she doing here? How do we neutralize her?”
Tutresiel snorted. “Neutralize? You can’t. She’s . . . Shit.” He swallowed hard, and his body went rigid. His silver wings clashed together as they compressed tightly against his back.
Alexander whirled. Two of the dogs had wandered closer. The woman’s attention had left the column of smoke and was now centered on their small group. The weight of her stare was like a mountain sitting on his shoulders. His legs shook and started to buckle. He firmed them, sweat springing up over his body. His skin heated, and in a moment, he was blistering hot. The sweat dried, and his skin felt dry and crisp. He stared back defiantly. When her eyes met his, the world shattered.
For a moment, he was spinning through darkness laced with streaks of light and dancing with colored confetti. He felt the entire world in his body. The touch of the sun in Australia, the dancing swirl of a school of fish off the coast of Chile, the pulsing swell of life in the Amazon, the arid sift of sand in the Sahara, the ancient solidity of ice and mountain in Siberia, the dark cold deep under the Arctic. Below it all was molten heat, searing . . . searing.
His body convulsed, and Alexander fell to his knees. Abruptly, the feeling peeled away, leaving him limp. He slowly pushed back to his feet. His bones were taffy. He took a breath, forcing air into his flattened lungs. The woman had returned her attention to the column. But the two dogs continued to watch their small group with avid interest.
Alexander looked at his companions. Each looked dazed. Tears dripped down Giselle’s cheeks, and Niko was ashen. Oz trembled. Xaphan had crouched down, his wings closed tightly around his body, and Tutresiel twitched like he wanted to fling himself into the air and head for the South Pole.
“What is she?” Alexander asked softly.
Tutresiel started, and his wings flared wide with a soft chiming sound. “I don’t know. No one really does, unless the Guardians do. All I do know is that there are five: the Harbinger, the Memory, the Seeker, the Illusion, and the Spirit. One or two tend to show up when there is serious trouble somewhere. Which means Horngate is in deep shit. With a magical war raging across the world, the fact that she is here says that something epic is about to go down.”
Alexander scraped his fingers through his hair. “Which is this one? Is she going to attack?”
The angel’s jaw knotted, and he shook his head again. “I don’t know which one she is. They don’t exactly wear name tags, and I prefer to be far from where they are if at all possible. She’s here, no doubt, because of that—” He jerked his chin at the column of smoke. “Fig
ure out what it is, and you might figure out why she’s here. But my advice is to stay the fuck away from her.”
“Tyler is down there,” Alexander said. “I mean to get him back.” He turned away and strode toward the dogs. He was startled when Niko joined him. “Stay back.”
“Don’t think so, boss.”
Alexander slanted a look at the other man. “You are about to collapse. I do not need to pull two of you out of the fire.”
“Worry about yourself. I’ll be fine. Nice puppies,” he said as they angled around the two watching black dogs.
“Those are Grims,” Xaphan called in a quiet voice. “Spirit dogs. Soul dogs. Don’t underestimate them.”
“Of course they are,” Niko said acidly. “Because every disaster needs soul stealers.”
“What have you to worry about?” Alexander asked, easing down the slope toward Tyler and his new friends. So far, the dogs were content to watch them. “I thought you were a soulless man-whore.”
Niko snickered. “I like to think I’m just generous with my attentions. After all, it would be selfish not to share myself widely. So many women and so little time, after all.”
They were within thirty feet of Tyler now. One of the big black beasts was still lying over his legs. The others watched the two approaching Blades curiously. Three stood and wandered over. Alexander and Niko stopped abruptly.
“What do you want to do?” Niko murmured.
“Let them have a look and cross my fingers they do not feel hungry.”
The big animals looked up at them with preternatural intelligence, then sniffed their legs and feet. One jumped up, its paws thumping heavily on Alexander’s shoulders. He held himself still. The Grim sniffed his head and face. Its lips curled back in a snarl—or maybe it was a smile. Who knew? The beast smelled of Uncanny magic. It was a dense scent, as if the magic had been distilled to its most powerful essence.
The Grim dropped back to the ground. Alexander met its lambent gaze, waiting for the verdict. His fingers twitched toward the grip of the gun in his waistband, but he held himself still. He doubted even the steel-shot shells would have much impact on the beasts. He was not sure what would.
“You are stupid.”
Tutresiel’s voice made Alexander start. He had not heard the angel’s approach. He twisted to look at him. “So you keep telling me. What are you doing here?”
Tutresiel’s mouth twisted with bitter fury. “Helping.”
“Out of the goodness of your heart?”
“No.”
“Then why? You do not even like Tyler. Or any of the rest of us, for that matter.”
For a moment, Tutresiel said nothing. Then, as if against his will, “I like Max. She likes you. I don’t have a choice.”
Alexander grinned. “Welcome to my world,” he said, and then they reached Tyler.
The Grim lying across his legs settled its head between its paws. It clearly had no intention of moving.
“Anytime you want to get me out of here, feel free,” Tyler said, his lips barely moving. His eyes were open only a slit, and Alexander could hear his heart thundering in his chest.
“Looks like you have a new friend,” Niko said, crouching down and settling a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “I hope it’s house-trained.” He looked up at Alexander and Tutresiel. “Any idea how to get the mutt to move?”
“We could try playing fetch,” Alexander said. “Or maybe just asking nicely.” He held out his hand. “Come on, boy. Let Tyler go now.”
The Grim sniffed his hand, then opened its mouth and enveloped Alexander’s hand. The beast’s teeth punctured his skin. He did not move as a warm, wet tongue swept away the blood. A growl at Alexander’s side made him jerk, and he looked down. Another Grim stood beside him, its lips wrinkled back in a vicious snarl. It growled again, and suddenly, the first Grim let go of his hand with a wet sneeze and heaved itself to its feet. It bent and swiped a tongue over Tyler’s arm even as Niko helped hoist him off the ground.
“Damn, my legs are asleep,” Tyler said, leaning against Niko. “Bastard must weigh a ton.”
“At least it didn’t eat you,” Niko said.
“I don’t know why.”
“Let us get out of here, and you can figure it out later,” Alexander advised. “Tutresiel can fly you out.”
Tyler eyed the angel. “I don’t think so. I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself.” Tutresiel launched into the sky and skimmed up to land between Xaphan and Oz.
“I hate him,” Tyler muttered.
“I’m sure it’s mutual,” Niko said. “Can you walk?”
“Feeling’s coming back.”
“So is your new friend,” Alexander said as he lifted Tyler’s other arm over his shoulder and they started up the hill. Tyler’s Grim followed.
“It’s not the only one.”
Tyler was right. Another Grim padded along beside Alexander, the beast’s back coming up to Alexander’s hip.
The three men said nothing more as they climbed back up to the ridgeline.
“New friends?” Oz asked, eyeing the big beasts narrowly.
“You tell them to go away,” Niko said. “See if they tear your balls off or not. I’m not risking it. I like my balls just where they are.”
“So how do we get rid of them?”
“More important,” Giselle said, “what is in the ward circle that the woman finds so fascinating?”
Alexander had almost forgotten the witch was there. She had her arms crossed and was frowning at the boiling smoke.
“We could ask,” he suggested softly.
She jerked her head to look at him and then Tutresiel. “Would she answer?”
He shrugged. “There is little known about them.”
“I am willing to try,” Alexander said. He looked at Giselle. “If you do not object.”
She snorted. “Why let that bother you now? Go. I haven’t a clue what this is”—she gestured at the black column—“and if she goes postal, I’d rather lose you than anyone else.”
“Your concern is overwhelming,” he said dryly.
“I’m sentimental like that.”
“Like a rattlesnake,” he murmured, and then turned and went back down the ridge. His Grim companion trotted at his side.
The woman did not watch him approach. He stopped at the bottom of the boulder where she sat and cleared his throat. Nothing. He grimaced, then leaped up to land on a slab just below. It put him at head height with her.
“I ask your indulgence,” he said, bowing slightly. This close, he realized how flawless her skin was—almost radiant. If he did not know better, he would have thought her an angel straight out of a Michelangelo painting. Or a saint of some kind. She turned to look at him, and the world exploded.
His entire self shattered to bits. He could not think. He felt something moving around him, through him, swallowing him. It was beyond pain, beyond pleasure. At the center of everything was a hard kernel that refused to give. Something prodded it, then bit sharply into it. The kernel did not crack.
“Curious.”
The word resonated, shivering through what was left of him. He gripped the kernel like an anchor and grappled to piece himself back together. It was like a jigsaw puzzle. Nothing seemed to fit as it should. He refused to give up.
“Impressive. You are strong.”
The words pounded on him, and his rebuilt self collapsed inward like a crushed beer can, as if the entire weight of the world were pressing in on him. He held tight against it, refusing to crumble.
“Who are you?” He did not know if he spoke the words or just thought them.
Amusement. “What is the universe to a thing so small as you? Ah, yes . . . I see now. The Five.” Her amusement quaked through him, and he sagged against her rocky perch. “That is what you little things call us.” Apparently, Tutresiel was one of the little things. He was going to love that. “I am the one they call the Memory. It is apt enough, I suppose.”
“A
nd the column?” he gasped. He was smothering. Her attention was too much. Too heavy, too huge.
“It is an Erinye. Fury. A soul was betrayed here. She wants vengeance. Go now, little one. I should not like to see you die because of me, and I would remember. Keep Beyul well. He has chosen you.”
With that, she withdrew, and Alexander crumpled like a marionette with cut strings. He tumbled from the boulder and landed on the flat below. He felt nothing. His mind was full of spinning lights. Something cold and wet nuzzled his cheek. It reminded him to breathe. He sucked in a long breath and turned on his side as he was racked with coughs.
At last, they faded, and he sat up. His companion Grim sat beside him, its warm breath puffing across Alexander’s face. The beast leaned forward and snuffled him, and then swiped a wet tongue from his chin to his forehead.
“Thanks,” Alexander said, and hoisted himself to his feet, wiping away the dog slobber with his forearm. He glanced up at the Memory. She ignored him, her attention fixed on the trapped smoke. He nodded to her and started back up the hill. When the Grim fell in beside him, he stopped.
“Beyul? That is your name?”
The beast nosed his hand and yawned. He has chosen you. What the hell did that mean? He would worry about it later. Right now, he needed to report what he had learned.
“She says she is the Memory,” he told the others when he reached the top of the ridge. He was exhausted, and his legs shook. Beyul leaned against him, and he was grateful for the Grim’s solid support. “She said it is an Erinye. Then something about a soul being betrayed here and that she wants vengeance. Oh, and she said fury.”
“Erinye?” Giselle repeated, and went to look at the turbulent smoke. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “A Fury. Of course. Dammit. Sonofabitch.” Abruptly, she swung around. “Xaphan, take me back to the Keep. Niko and Tyler, wake the coven. I want all my witches, Sunspears, and Shadowblades in the Great Hall in a half-hour. Oz and Alexander, meet me in my quarters right away.” She hesitated. “Tutresiel, you’d better come, too.”
Xaphan pulled her into the air, his fiery wings sending embers spinning across the ground. Alexander exchanged a look with the others. “Any idea what is going on?”
Shadow City Page 6
