He closed his eyes, trying to remember what had happened. The Fury had killed Alton and then broken through the next circle. After that—
The angels had wrapped themselves around her, and the world had burst into flame.
He opened his eyes, foreboding digging into his entrails. He pushed himself up on his elbows, biting back a moan of pain. He looked down at himself. A blanket covered him from the waist down. Above that, he was naked. Some of his skin was runneled and twisted like melted wax. Patches of it were pink and shiny as if they were new. Others were black. IVs were hooked to both arms. Beyul lay against him and lifted his head as Alexander struggled to sit upright. He pulled the tubes in his arms free.
The beast sat up, and his tongue swiped over Alexander’s cheek and eye. He winced. “Good to see you, too,” he rasped. He could barely hear himself. His throat was swollen and throbbing. He looked across the room. Other bodies lay on the floor like a row of logs.
A hand clenched in his chest. Who was hurt? Who was dead?
Alexander struggled to his feet, the blanket puddling to the floor. He looked down at himself and nearly puked. His cock and balls were shriveled and black, and his skin matched the patchwork of his chest.
“Here,” a voice said, and he jerked around to find Max’s sister, Tris, holding his blanket out to him.
She was gray-faced and drawn, her lips trembling.
“Thank you,” he said in a harsh whisper, and wrapped it around his waist. His legs shook, but he ignored them and the agony stabbing up through his bones and burrowing through his flesh.
“Here, drink this,” she said, and gave him a cup of something.
Alexander drank it and gasped as his gut exploded. “What is that?”
“Medicine. The witch—Valery—made it. It’s supposed to get you better a lot faster. It’s got magic in it.” She said magic as if she were being force-fed cockroaches.
It was working. He felt strength flowing through his veins, and his pain was fading. His skin was smoothing. He did not dare check his genitals while Tris was watching, but he could feel them healing, too.
Suddenly, someone hit him in the shoulder. He turned, and Valery pulled him into a tight hug. “You bastard,” she said softly, tears running down her face. “Don’t ever do that to me again. I thought I lost you.”
“I couldn’t get that lucky,” came Holt’s annoyed voice. He stood behind Valery, his arms folded and his lip curling as he watched their embrace. He was haggard and thin, like he had lost twenty pounds.
Alexander bared his teeth at the mage in something like a smile. “I guess today is not your day to play the lottery, is it?”
Valery pushed away and looked him over from head to foot. She, too, had lost weight, and her face was pale. She had a cut on her cheek and a hash of them on her forearms. Alexander touched the wound on her cheek. “What happened?”
“All the rocks exploded, and suddenly we were inside a blender,” Holt answered for her. “Valery is lucky she didn’t die.” His voice was hot with accusation. His hex marks glowed blue. “No thanks to you.”
She cast an annoyed look at her ex and then returned her attention to Alexander. “I’m fine. I shielded myself.”
“Not fucking well fast enough,” came Holt’s furious response.
“What business is it of yours?” she asked. “I’m a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“You’re an idiot, and if you took care of other people the way you supposedly take care of yourself, you’d be arrested for neglect.”
Valery grinned up at Alexander, her eyes snapping with humor. She was riding an adrenaline high. The same kind she got when she was stealing. He was sure that Holt knew it and that was what was driving the other man insane. Valery took risks for the fun of it. “No harm, no foul,” she said with a shrug,. “Time for you to get over your big bad self.”
Holt was beside himself. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around. Alexander started to interfere, then checked himself. Valery did not need a hero, and Holt deserved a chance to make an ass of himself. After suffering Max’s rejection for so long, Alexander could not help feeling sympathetic to Holt. He hated the mage, but the man was clearly desperate.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” the mage demanded through gritted teeth. He gave Valery a shake. “You could have died.”
There was a wealth of horror in the words, and his cold expression cracked. Suddenly, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly and pressing his lips against her hair, his eyes closing. She hesitated, then hugged him back.
“You have to stop scaring me like this,” he said, his voice unsteady.
Alexander decided that he did not need to eavesdrop on the rest of what they might have to say to each other and walked down along the row of bodies, Beyul at his side. Tris followed.
He came to Lise first. Bile flooded his mouth. She was in bad shape. If he hadn’t recognized her scent, he would not have know it was her. Absently, he reached down to pet Beyul, wanting the touch of someone warm and alive.
“Is she going to make it?” he asked Tris.
“They say so.”
“Who are they?”
“Those two.” She hooked a thumb back in the direction of Holt and Valery. “And Giselle. She’s been through a few times since—”
Tris broke off, and her face twisted. “I’ve seen a lot in my life,” she said quietly. “I thought the worst of it was when those shape-shifters attacked our orchard and you came out of it like hamburger. But this . . . Is it going to be like this always?”
Alexander nodded. “The Fury rising—no one could have predicted that. But the Guardians unleashed a flood of magic into the world. A lot of people were displaced, and a lot of magical creatures have returned from wherever they went. Everyone is looking for a home. I expect that for a while, we will be living in the old west, where there are no laws and everybody is fighting to establish their territories.”
“How long is a while?”
Alexander shook his head. “Maybe longer than you will live. Maybe longer than your grandchildren will live.”
Her mouth pinched, and she nodded. Then said, “Thank you. For keeping us safe.”
He looked at her in surpise. “It is our job. But you are welcome.”
“I heard you saw Max. That she was here for a little bit. Is she OK?”
It was easier to look at Lise than to see the pleading look in Tris’s eyes. She missed her sister more than he had thought. “She was. But that could have changed by now.”
“But she’s strong, right? Stronger than most?”
He nodded. “She has a lot of reasons to come home safe, too.”
“I hope so,” Tris said. “We—things weren’t good between us when she left. Mom spends half the day crying and the other half yelling at my dad. I’d like to have a chance to know her again.”
“You will get it.”
“You sound sure.”
He smiled without humor. “I have to be. Otherwise, I would shoot myself in the head.” He changed the subject, not wanting to think about Max. “How long has it been since the Fury rose?”
“Fourteen or fifteen hours.”
A long time for him to be out. He must have been hurt badly. Thank goodness for Valery and Holt.
He turned away and went down the rest of the line. Oak and Steel were there, and so were Nami and Simon. Steel’s brother, Flint, was sitting beside him. There were also three Sunspears, and Judith and Gregory were huddled under two mounds of blankets at the end. They were shivering, and two Sunspears, Maple and Ivy, sat with them, talking softly.
“What is wrong with them?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Something to do with the magic that was unleashed. Holt and Valery worked on them, but now it’s just wait and see.”
Alexander frowned, looking around the space again. “Where is Xaphan? He can heal.”
Tris opened her mouth and then closed it, shaking her head. She po
inted through another doorway.
He went through it slowly, feeling numb. The smell of death assaulted his nose. Blood and charred flesh. His stomach lurched again, and he swallowed it down, his body clamping tight.
Out in the broad antechamber was a makeshift morgue. There were five tables holding sheet-covered bodies. Two of the sheets were folded back to reveal Xaphan and Tutresiel. The other three—
Alexander refused to acknowledge what his nose told him about their identities.
Tyler was standing at the foot of the tables holding the angels. Xaphan’s fire was out, and Tutresiel’s wings were a tarnished gray. Their skin was white marble, and their faces were slack, their crimson eyes closed.
“I did not think they could be killed this way,” Alexander said, standing beside Tyler. Sadness filled him. He had liked Xaphan. As for Tutresiel, the cocky bastard had been a thorn in his side, but he had been good for Horngate.
“They saved us,” Tyler said in a blank voice. “They wrapped themselves around the Fury. She used a lot of power breaking free. Because of it, the witches were able to deflect the worst of her leftover attacks. The Grims helped, too. They wandered out among us and somehow boosted the shields. I’ve got one now.”
Alexander became aware of the big Grim lying a few feet away and watching Tyler like he was dinner. It was an intense, possessive look.
“Fire caused the worst of the damage for you and Lise. For everybody else, it was the force of the blast and the rocks. The whole ravine exploded, and it was like a war zone. Missiles were flying everywhere.” He finally looked at Alexander, and there was a feral ring growing around the outer edge of his eye. “Niko’s gone.”
Alexander closed his eyes and let his head fall back, a knot growing in his throat. “Damn.” Grief filled his chest. He had counted Niko a friend. But to Tyler, he was a brother. And Max. He drew a breath and blew it out. This was going to cut her in ways he could not begin to think about. She was going to hate herself for not being there to protect him; she was going to hate Alexander for failing to keep him safe.
With stiff steps, Alexander went to the next body and peeled back the sheet. Niko lay there, his body charred, the left side of his head a pulpy mess. Gently, he pulled the sheet back up. “Mother of night, guard his soul,” he murmured.
The second body was Derek, a Sunspear. He was burned much the same as Niko, but there was a startled look on his face and no obvious wounds.
“He took a rock to the back,” Tyler said from the foot of the table. “Destroyed his spine. He was dead before he hit the ground.”
Next was Noah. He was dark-haired and quiet. One of the newer Shadowblades, less than two years old. He was burned, and his chest was caved in as if a boulder had landed on him. Alexander covered him again and turned away.
“What about everyone else? Thor? Oz? Tris said Giselle was all right.”
“All the civilians inside the mountain were protected. Thor and Oz are fine. Thor’s helping Giselle, and Oz and his Spears are out on cleanup.”
“What happened to the Fury?”
Tyler shook his head. “She’s gone. Just vanished. Giselle thinks she used up all her power and has to recharge. Or maybe she wasn’t ready to be born yet. She could come back, but Holt says she’ll probably start answering the voices of betrayal that she hears. She won’t be able to stop herself. Chances are, we’ll never see her again now that Alton’s dead. The Memory left, too. One minute she was there, and the next she was gone. The Grims stayed, though. The whole pack.”
That caught Alexander up short. “The whole pack? Why?”
“Guess they took a shine to the place.”
Tyler looked back at Niko’s shrouded body, his face contorting with emotion. His hands clenched. “Wasn’t supposed to happen to him,” he said, loss and pain leaching into his voice.
Alexander put a gentle hand on Tyler’s shoulder. He knew how he felt. There were no words that could make it better. Still, Tyler was teetering on the edge of going feral, and Alexander had no intention of letting him go over the edge. “Women everywhere will be weeping,” he said.
Tyler’s shoulders jerked with his sudden bark of laughter. “Won’t they? Damn, but they went after him like flies.”
“And why not? He was a legend in his own mind.”
“What’ll we do without him?” Tyler asked quietly.
Alexander squeezed his shoulder. “We go on. Like he would want us to.” He paused. “And possibly throw a parade. Maybe build a monument on the side of a mountain.”
Another laugh. Alexander could feel the other man’s Blade settling, pulling back from the edge of going feral.
“He deserved—” Tyler broke off, his mouth working, tears rolling down his cheeks. Good. Tears were good. “He was killed by a goddamned rock! There’s nothing to fight and nothing to do about it. He’s dead, and there’s not a damned thing we can do.”
“You can get on with the next job.”
Tyler spun around faster than Alexander at the sound of Max’s voice. She had come in from another corridor. Her face was ashen as she stared at the tables. Slowly, she stepped forward. She touched Tutresiel’s hair and brushed her knuckles over Xaphan’s cheek.
“What happened?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“Birth of a Fury,” Tyler said.
She stared at the table holding Niko, and silent sobs shook her frame. She gently drew the sheet back away from his face. “No, oh, Spirits, no,” she whispered. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Alexander wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing he could do. He and Tyler could only watch helplessly.
She pressed a kiss to Niko’s lips. “Damn you,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to ever die on me. You promised me I’d get to go first.”
She rested her head on his chest, and now the sobs escaped, loud and wrenching. Tris appeared in the far doorway, as did Holt and Valery and Flint, Maple, and Ivy. No one came any further. No one wanted to intrude.
Finally, it was Tyler who pulled her gently away, cradling her in his arms as she wept on his shoulder. He talked to her, words tumbling out of him. Alexander covered the body while Max gathered herself. It was what Tyler needed, too. The more he spoke to her, the more his Blade calmed.
Slowly, Max’s grief subsided, until Alexander could no longer contain himself. He took her from Tyler and pulled her close. She hugged him tightly for a long minute, then extracted herself and drew a long, steadying breath. Her eyes and nose were red, and her face was blotchy. He watched her visibly push her grief down and retreat into that cold place that allowed her to function when she was hurting terribly.
When she had herself under control, she looked at him. “I came for you. I need help.”
Fierce triumph and pride surged through him. “Of course.”
“Not so fast.” Giselle strode in. She was hashed with cuts, and there was a purple bruise spreading across her jaw. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight braid that hung down her back.
Max looked at her in shock. Alexander suppressed a smile. The last time Max had seen her witch, Giselle had been weak and emaciated. The backlash of power from Max’s broken bindings had boosted her health as nothing else could have. She was back to full strength.
Giselle came to a stop opposite Max. “That’s it? You run in and out when you feel like it and never stop in and mention you’re here?”
Max’s brows rose in mock surprise. “You gave me away. Why would you care if I was here or not? Besides, I’m not bound to you anymore.”
“If you aren’t bound to me, then you aren’t bound to Horngate, and you don’t belong here.”
“I belong here as much as you do. I just don’t happen to belong to you,” Max said. “Don’t forget it. Now we really are partners. You don’t get to make me obey you.”
Giselle snorted. “As if I ever could.”
Max’s smile was smug. “You tried real hard. Succeeded a lot, too.”
It was Giselle’s turned to shrug.
“I did what I had to do.”
Neither sounded particularly angry, and Alexander did not get the impression that Giselle was intent on binding Max again. There was an edge to her voice, as if she was worried and even hurt.
“What are you doing here?” the witch asked.
“I came to get Alexander. I need some help.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
Max considered a moment, then glanced at Tyler, who was intent on the exchange. “There’s a group in Chadaré—that’s this weird city in the middle of the abyss—”
Giselle nodded. “I know of it.”
Max looked surprised a moment and then continued. “This group called the Korvad runs the city. Apparently, Scooter and them were founders of the place, and at some point they stole his heart, his silk, and his horn. Now he’s on the verge of dying. He’s blind and powerless, and I promised I’d help him get his parts back.”
That earned a gasp from Giselle and a rueful shake of the head from Tyler. Alexander was unsurprised. It would have been far more shocking if she had not promised to help. When she decided to commit to a friend, she did not go halfway.
“I got his heart back,” she continued, “but the only way to get the horn and the silk before he dies is to issue a challenge. My new buddy, Ilanion, is doing that now. He’s something like a mage. Or a god. Maybe a demigod.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Hell if I know. Anyway, I’m putting up Scooter and his heart against the horn and the silk. Winner takes all, including the opposing fighters. If I lose, I’m heading into an all-new slavery.” She slid a look at Alexander. “So are you, Slick. Be sure you want to help.”
“I am coming with you,” he said, and his voice left no room for argument.
She nodded as if expecting nothing else. His chest swelled at her trust. “You might want to put something on besides the blanket, though.” She turned back to Giselle. “I have no idea what I’ll be up against. Ilanion is going to let me use some of his people, but the Korvad gets to name the nature of the challenge and how many can fight on each side. We’re pretty sure that at least one mage-type will be in it.”
Shadow City Page 25
