Hoarding Secrets

by C. I. Black

  “That’s why you need Capri to explain everything to Tobias.” The tingle of the gatelock vanished, and Grey pressed his hand to the side of the tunnel to summon a gate.

  Diablo grabbed Grey’s shoulder, spiking pain through the still unhealed gashes and drawing a grunt that Grey couldn’t keep back. Diablo jerked his hand away and wiped Grey’s blood off on his jeans. “The prince’s chamberlain is obedient to the prince.”

  “He’s made it clear he’s the Handmaiden’s man, not the prince’s.” And Grey was betting his life and the safety of the medallion on that.

  Grey hissed his power word and a speck of black vortex, darker than the shadows in the tunnel, burst to life against the wall.

  “You’re risking the life of every dragon on that,” Diablo said, his voice dark.

  Grey pulled the medallion out from under his T-shirt. “Then take it and be around so when I’m arrested, you can take my soul.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not going to kill you. The medallion is your best bet for ending him. If he has wind, getting close and hissing a few words is going to be easier than cutting off his head.” Diablo flashed his teeth and growled. “But don’t forget. Fuck up and we’re all screwed.”

  And that included Ivy. “Gee, thanks.”

  The vortex whooshed to its full size and Grey slid the medallion back under his T-shirt.

  Diablo grabbed his arm, stopping him from stepping through. “Don’t die.”

  “Gonna try awfully hard not to.” In the very least, he was going to save Ivy.

  CHAPTER 39

  Ivy staggered out of Servius’s gate into shadows. She clutched the knife tight in her hand — she’d snatched it from the floor of the Handmaiden’s residence during her failed attempt to flee — and held it close to her leg, hiding it in the folds of her dress, praying Servius wouldn’t notice it.

  Grey was alive.

  Light flared to life around her from a source she couldn’t pinpoint, which told her it had to be the magical lighting at Court. They stood at the edge of the center entrance to the massive arena, filled with the blue memory fire of thousands of years of memories. The walls and seats had been carved out of granite and swept into a massive domed ceiling high above, but she couldn’t make her mind focus on where she was. Not even all the memory fire billowing around her could make her think past the single thought whirling over and over again in her head.

  Grey was alive.

  The pressure in her chest and gut had clenched tight the moment the Handmaiden’s residence had shaken from some kind of explosion outside. Then the gunfire inside had tightened it even more. She’d prayed it was Grey, but knew it could have been Diablo or Nero or even the ferocious sorcerer Anaea, there to avenge Grey. She almost hadn’t believed her eyes when Servius had snatched the completed coin from the podium, dragged her into the main chamber, and Grey had been standing at the bottom of the stairs. Blood had shimmered wet on most of his black T-shirt and stained his jeans, revealing the toll fighting Jet had taken on him. But he still had radiated ferocious strength, his body tense, ready to jump into battle. Then his gaze had locked with hers, and certainty had burned through the ice devouring her insides.

  He was alive and he was coming for her.

  She knew it in the core of her being.

  Servius strode toward the arena’s center, and his wind snapped around her neck and jerked her after him. She stumbled forward, fighting to breathe against the magical constriction.

  Grey was coming. All she had to do was bide her time and make sure Servius didn’t get the medallion and gain control of the complete rebirth spell. If he did, then everything she and Grey had gone through would have been for nothing. She knew how to stop his magic — break the line of one of his tattoos. Just a little nick. That was all it would take. But without some kind of a distraction, he’d see her attack and stop her before she could cut him.

  She had to stay patient. Grey was alive. Everything else she could figure out. The words swirled, a mantra in her head.

  Servius’s wind jerked her a few more stumbling steps to the arena’s center, then lashed around her forearm — thank the Mother not the one hiding the knife! — and yanked her to her knees. She tucked the knife deeper into the folds of her dress, her pulse racing. If he saw it, all chance of eliminating his magic and helping Grey was lost.

  “I’ve been waiting for this for centuries.” He tapped his tattoos together, and a band of stone snapped up from the arena floor and clamped around her wrist. “You, as you are now, haven’t even existed for a fraction of the time I’ve been working toward this moment.”

  She tugged against the cuff, squeezing her hand as small as she could, but the stone clamped tight, and there was barely enough room to twist her wrist.

  Servius sagged to his knees beside her, close, but — even if she hadn’t been trapped with a stone handcuff — still out of reach. Not to mention he still had his sheathed sword at his hip and she didn’t doubt he had spent many years learning how to use it. From his pocket, he drew out a copper disc the size of the joined coin and set it on the arena floor. White light shimmered off it, along with a hint of memory fire, and Servius glared at her.

  “It took me fifty years to craft this spell.” He pressed his index finger on top of the disc and hissed a few quick words that Ivy couldn’t understand. The white light flared and veins of light slid out from the disc in a spider web radius, twice the size of her palm across the floor. “In a little more than five minutes the Handmaiden’s spell locking the medallion in the heart of the arena will be gone.”

  Her pulse leapt into a rapid tattoo. Five minutes wasn’t nearly enough time. Jet was injured, so Grey might be able to defeat her in that time, but to get to the gate anchor then gate to Court—

  It was up to her, and she was only going to have one shot. She tightened her grip on the knife. If she attacked Servius, he’d defend himself with wind and stone, and that wouldn’t stop the magic pulling the medallion out of the arena. But if she made it look like she was attacking him, she might have a chance of damaging the disc.

  To do that, she had to get free. She curled her thumb tighter to her palm. Maybe the cuff wasn’t evenly shaped. If it was slightly wider at one spot, there might be a way to slip through. “Controlling the rebirth spell won’t make dragons follow you.”

  Servius sat back on his heels, his gaze rising to the ceiling. “Dragonkind is looking for an alternative to Regis’s rule.”

  “And you’re that alternative?” She shifted, trying to change the angle of her wrist.

  “You’re not going to get free,” he said without even looking at her. “If you had a knife, you could cut off your hand, but then you’d be busy fighting the pain and holding the stumps together to get it to reattach. I’d just encase you in stone while your soul magic was trying to put you back together until I had the medallion, then I’d rip out your soul and give that body with its earth magic to someone loyal.”

  “You’re going to give my body to another drake anyway.”

  “Not if you swear your allegiance to me.”

  “Will you release me if I swear?” She doubted he’d believe her, just like she couldn’t believe anything he said.

  His gaze slid from the ceiling to her. “Trust must be earned.”

  A bang cracked through the arena. Servius’s eyes flashed wide, and he jerked to the side, tapping his arms together. A blast of wind exploded around him. Blood from a graze that cut under his eye and across his temple oozed down his cheek. His expression snapped to darkened rage and with a roar, he wrenched around. A whirlwind exploded from his hands and blasted across the arena into one of the side entrances.

  The wind jerked Grey into the light and wrenched a rifle from his hands.

  She yanked at the stone cuff. She had to get free, had to help Grey. He had no way of defending himself against Servius’s magic, let alone defeating him.

  “Just die,” Servius howled. His wind tossed the rifle into the
seats at the back of the arena.

  “Why won’t you?” Grey drew a gun from his shoulder holster and fired. The gunshots roared through the arena with three quick explosions.

  The whirlwind around Servius swept stronger, ripping at Ivy’s hair and clothes, and the bullets slammed into the floor behind the black drake, sending flecks of stone into the tornado that sliced at Ivy’s face and bare arms.

  “I’m the emperor, that’s why,” Servius yelled, his voice booming through the arena, caught up and somehow magnified by his wind. “And you can’t stop me.”

  He tapped his wrists. A spike of stone surged out of the floor a few feet from Servius and the whirlwind wrenched Grey forward.

  Ivy’s heart froze. Her whole essence froze, as if time had somehow slowed down and she was sentenced with the inability to do anything but watch. She couldn’t even find breath to yell.

  The wind slammed Grey off his feet, across the arena, and onto the spike, driving it through his chest. He screamed. His eyes rolled back, his head dipped forward, and for a heartrending second she feared and prayed he’d pass out. But he jerked his head up, his eyes wild with agony, and bared his teeth in full at Servius.

  Ivy yanked her hand against the stone cuff. She couldn’t lose Grey. Blood slicked her wrist where she’d rubbed it raw, but her hand was still too wide.

  “You should have minded your own business.” Servius flicked his finger and the wind slammed against Grey’s back, driving him further onto the spike.

  Grey screamed again and wrenched the gun toward Servius.

  A blast of wind ripped it from Grey’s hand and tossed it into the seats with the rifle. The spike shuddered then reformed, as if concentrating on manipulating the wind made him lose a fraction of control over his stone magic.

  Servius sneered and drew his sword. “I’ve never taken the head of a dragon before. But at least the arena medallion will save your soul.”

  Maybe if she broke the spell pulling the medallion from the arena, she’d distract Servius enough for Grey to get free. She kicked at the disc, but it was too far away.

  Grey clawed at the spike, but the wind kept battering his back, driving the stone deeper into his chest. Blood leaked over the spike and down the front of his jeans and his breath came in sharp gasps.

  Ivy dug the knife tip into the cuff and knocked off a chip, but that wasn’t going to be fast enough.

  Servius stepped closer. “In a few minutes, I’ll have the arena’s medallion and control of the full rebirth spell.” His gaze jumped to the disc and the glowing spider web of magic on the arena floor. “You can be my first new servant.”

  “The hell I—” Grey coughed and blood bubbled over his lips, splattering the spike in front of him.

  Ivy pressed the knife to her wrist. Lose the hand and save Grey. Except Servius was right. The shock of losing it might take up that split-second she’d need to cut Servius’s tattoos.

  Servius slid the tip of his sword up Grey’s chest to his neck. “Is it hard? Taking a dragon’s head?”

  Grey’s gaze leapt to Ivy’s, capturing her soul. His love for her swelled warm and sure around her heart. He was her inamorato and would do anything to protect her. That was why he’d come here, even knowing Servius controlled wind. Grey had known he wouldn’t be able to win this fight. She could see that in his eyes. He’d come here for the chance to save her. The need was imprinted on his soul with a magic he was unable to resist. She knew it because that magic flowed through her veins, too. She would do anything to save him, or she would die trying.

  Losing a hand wasn’t going to help. But breaking it—

  She scrambled to a crouch, kicked off her shoes, and slammed her bare heel down onto the side of her hand as hard as she could before she could second-guess herself. White lightning shot through her thumb and palm and seared up her arm. She fought to swallow her scream, and black specks swept across her vision, threatening her consciousness, but she held on and yanked her ruined hand free of the stone cuff.

  Servius drew his sword back and lined his swing with Grey’s neck. He sneered and Ivy leapt at him. One strike, just a nick, that was all she needed.

  He swept his sword toward her. She barreled forward, rising to catch the blade in her shoulder. It sliced deep, burning agony down her knife arm. Her fingers went numb. She was going to drop the blade and fail. Grey was going to die.

  The ice in her gut and chest exploded, and a fierce fire roared within her. She forced her grip on the knife tight and wrenched the blade up the inside of Servius’s arm.

  He jerked back and sneered. “You’ll need a better hit than that to disarm me.”

  The wind trapping Grey on the spike stuttered, and the spike trembled.

  “Disarming you wasn’t the goal.”

  A thin line of blood wept through both wind and stone tattoos on Servius’s arm. His eyes widened. The wind gasped then vanished, and the spike started to crumble.

  “That’s not going to stop me.” He slammed his fist into her face.

  Something cracked in her cheek and pain flashed white-hot agony through her head. Her legs lost strength, her whole body jerked, suddenly weak, and darkness consumed her.

  CHAPTER 40

  Grey roared as Ivy collapsed unconscious to the ground. The spike in his chest shattered and with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he drew his sword with still-numb fingers and lunged at Servius. The only way to ensure Ivy’s safety was to finish off Servius or hold out long enough for Tobias and the royal guards to arrive.

  Except with two earth magic abilities and the power to gate through a gatelock, Servius had to be a sorcerer. It wasn’t impossible for a dragon to have two earth magics, but the only way he could pass through a gatelock was if his gating ability wasn’t natural, therefore bypassing the lock. Who knew what other magic abilities Servius possessed?

  But none of that mattered. Only protecting Ivy.

  Agony consumed Grey and blood gushed from the hole in his chest. His breath rattled and wheezed and his head spun from blood loss, but protecting Ivy spurred him forward. She was the only thing that mattered.

  He swung his sword at Servius’s neck, but the black drake blocked with his blade and wrenched down, jerking the sword from Grey’s weakened grip.

  “I’m glad Jet didn’t kill you.” Servius bashed his pommel into Grey’s face, smashing his head back and sending stars dancing across his vision.

  The arena tilted and Grey staggered back. The muscles in his legs gave out, dropping him to his knees.

  Get up.

  He fought to catch his breath. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth and choked him.

  Get up for Ivy.

  But the strength he’d found moments ago had vanished with his breath and all his blood now pooling on the arena floor. If he died, she’d be helpless—

  Except she wasn’t helpless. She’d caught Servius’s blade with her shoulder, sliced his arm, and somehow his earth magic had vanished. Even without any martial experience, she’d fought back and given Grey a chance. A chance he wasn’t going to let go to waste. He still had the medallion. All he needed was to press it against Servius and say three words.

  “I’m going to chop off your head and toss it onto Tobias’s desk.” Servius sneered, jerked his sword back, and swung for Grey’s neck.

  He lunged up, rammed his shoulder into Servius’s chest, and barreled him over, landing on top of him. The black drake bashed his sword pommel into the side of Grey’s head. Fog flooded his vision and a hint of reeking garbage wafted around him.

  Son of—

  He couldn’t get lost in a memory. He—

  He could use it. He’d made Diablo see a memory. Why not Servius?

  Another crack to his skull, while Servius rammed his other fist into the gash in Grey’s chest.

  The fog snapped into a blinding light that roared through him. He gasped, fighting to breathe and concentrate.

  The pain was like that night in the alley when
he’d been jumped and had his throat slit — actually this pain was a hundred times worse, but he needed a memory, and this was the nastiest one he could think of on short notice.

  He mentally clutched at it, at the pain burning his throat, and the feel of his blood oozing hot between his fingers.

  “How fast can you heal?” the voice hissed.

  “How fast can I what?” Servius asked, and his face materialized through the haze of Grey’s memory, his gaze unfocused, as if he wasn’t seeing Grey. “How fast can I—”

  Servius’s grip weakened, and his sword slipped to the floor. Grey yanked the medallion out from under his T-shirt and snapped the chain.

  “Not fast enough,” Servius said. “Never fast enough?” He frowned, then his gaze locked onto Grey, clearly seeing him.

  Grey hissed the words to activate the medallion. Servius’s eyes flashed wide. He screamed and jerked, but Grey held tight and slapped the medallion to the side of Servius’s face.

  Searing heat exploded around the black dragon. He bucked and threw his head back as if to scream, but brilliant white light roared out instead.

  Something cracked, the sound sharp against the roar of the medallion’s magic. White light shot from a fissure in the floor by Ivy’s head, and the heat increased. Now both medallions were fighting to absorb Servius’s soul.

  The heat burned over Grey’s hand and charred his flesh. He ground his teeth, clinging to his soul and wrapping his mind in the memory of Ivy and her soothing green aura. Just a little longer. For Ivy, and it would be done.

  Light exploded around him and with a whoosh, the heat and brilliance vanished back into the medallion. Servius lay limp, his eyes vacant, his soul now in one of the medallions. The fissure over the arena’s heart still glowed, and the medallion was now only half submerged in the stone floor. A copper disk — most likely the vessel containing the spell to unlock the medallion from the arena’s floor — still pulsed, along with a spiderweb of magic lines on the floor encircling the medallion.