Love Me to Death (Underveil)

by Marissa Clarke

  “Behind you,” Elena shouted as Borya raised his staff again.

  Uza rolled her eyes and met his bolt with her palm, shooting it back at him, this time directing the energy right back at him, setting his robes on fire. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!” She giggled. “I’ve always wanted to say that for realz.”

  Borya raised his staff over his head, and an amazing thing happened. Clouds formed and rain poured down, but only on the balcony. The cats howled and hunkered down as any remaining cinders were doused along with Borya’s robes. That rumor that cats don’t like water? Totally true. Pretty much simultaneously, they busted out of their pelts and stretched into rain-slicked naked men.

  “Oh, hallelujah,” Uza squealed, deflecting a bolt from Borya. “Almost as good as mud-wrestling. Huh, Ellie Baby?”

  The shifters maintained defensive stances toward the Slayers stationed around the platform, who made no move to advance.

  As Uza and Borya exchanged lightning bolts, Fydor climbed off the platform and slunk out of sight behind them. Elena strained to see behind her, but was bound too tightly. Where had he gone, and where the hell was Aleksi?

  She relaxed slightly, relieved that at least for these few moments, the Slayers were making no offensive moves. Still, the cat shifters remained crouched, ready to strike. Except one. The big guy with the beard who doubled as the gold Persian broke ranks and approached them, long claws out. Maybe he was going to try to unbind him.

  As he passed Elena, she heard a low, rumbling, predatory growl, and her fight-or-flight instinct flew in to full flight mode. Something was wrong—well, more wrong. Wrong was relative when tied up to be burned to death.

  He stopped when he got to Nik and raised his razor claws to throat level.

  “Uza!” Elena shouted.

  “Bad kitty!” She zapped him, and he crumbled to a ball, writhing in pain.

  The remaining shifters hissed and growled at him as he muttered about rising up, picking the wrong twin to worship, and the pitfalls of serving ugly old bats. Well, that answered the question about who had tipped off the creatures that met them at the airport.

  “We have to get free,” Nik said. “Who, other than the Slayer that bound us, has the key? Where’s the one you used to free me?”

  The Slayer Borya had zapped was the one who’d locked the shackles, and he was unconscious, out of reach. Her key was probably at Vlad’s castle. Once she’d used it to free Nik, she’d forgotten about it. It was probably lying on the floor of the bathroom or something like a discarded bath towel. “I don’t know.”

  He closed his eyes and thumped his head on the post behind him.

  “A-3! Direct hit!” Uza shouted. Borya howled and clutched his charred arm. “You’re doing it wrong, brother, you’re supposed to say, ‘You sunk my battleship!’”

  Like a dropped glass bowl, a fissure opened in the protective shield, probably as a result of Borya’s injury. Below, the gathered armies shouted and mobilized.

  Screaming came from somewhere in the building below as Vlad, along with Ricardo, Stefan, and Fee materialized on the top of the wall in front of the platform.

  “Sorry we’re late,” the vampire said with a wink. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

  More screaming below.

  “You forgot something, Elena.” Vlad held up the key, and she slumped against the post with relief. They might live through this after all.

  He inserted the key in the lock of one of Tatiana’s shackles. “Ladies first,” he said.

  While Borya and Uzana duked it out, blasting each other and yelling insults, the cat shifters kept guard on the platform, the Slayers stood completely still, Ricardo climbed off the platform, and Fee approached Elena.

  Her movements were fluid and graceful. Elena took a deep breath through her nose. The floral scent was intoxicating. “I brought you something,” she said.

  “You’re next Elena.” Vlad was unlocking the only remaining shackle on Queen Tatiana’s ankle.

  Still, no one made a move to either attack or defend. It was a stand off for something nobody really wanted—a cause no one believed in. This was Borya’s and Fydor’s war. Not a war of the Underveil.

  Fee held up a vial of green liquid. “This will react to my blood in your body. It will make the elf ore useless against your powers.”

  “You mean the plug they put in my arm?”

  She uncapped the bottle and held it to Elena’s lips. “Yes. And the chains as well.” She poured the liquid in Elena’s mouth. “Swallow.”

  It was bitter. She shuddered as Fee took a step back. Concentrating on the spot next to her, Elena attempted to teleport out of the shackles. “It didn’t work.”

  While Stefan escorted Queen Tatiana off the platform, Vlad unlocked the first cuff.

  “Unfortunately, there is a delay,” Fee explained.

  “How long?”

  The second cuff fell away, and she rubbed her wrists while he worked on her ankles.

  “I don’t know. It’s new.” She smiled. “I made it special for this event.”

  The screams and shouts from below grew louder.

  Vlad handed her the key. “You free Nikolai. I need to join Ricardo below.” And with that, he pulled a dagger from the sheath on his hip and climbed down the platform stairs.

  A sizzling sound filled the air as Uzana’s and Borya’s lightning bolts met each other and twisted and tangled.

  “Give up, brother,” Uza said. “Your odds of beating me are about as good as a one-legged man in a butt kickin’ contest!”

  “The revolutionary vampires, bear shifters, and wood elves did not join the resistance,” Fee explained. “They are attacking from the back of the fortress, while the resistance enters from the front. My father is in charge of the resistance forces and will defeat the opposition as they enter the great hall.”

  The smile Nik gave as Elena unlocked his chains brought back memories of the last time she freed him and what followed. Her face got hot at the notion that sex would even cross her mind right now. Clearly, it was crossing his mind, too.

  “Aren’t you glad you saved your energy and didn’t waste it fighting the guards?” she asked.

  He pulled her against him with his free arm, and her body heated. “Yes, when this is over, I’m going to need lots of energy. So are you.”

  When the last of the chains fell away, he kissed her fiercely, then looked around. “I have to find Fydor. And I have a feeling I know exactly where he is.” He splayed his fingers over her belly. “Please stay safe.”

  Placing her hands over his, she pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. “You can’t kill him.”

  “Fuck that. He’s a dead man.”

  She tightened her grip. “Listen to me. This is really important.” When she was sure she had his focus, she continued. “His blood cannot be on your hands if you plan to lead effectively.”

  “I’m a Slayer. We are charged with meting out justice.”

  “I’m the Uniter. My charge is burned into your very skin!” She waited until she was sure he’d completely processed her words through his Slayer instinct for revenge. “Skin I want to spend the rest of my life touching and kissing.”

  His expression softened, and his gaze dropped to where their hands were joined over their unborn child. “What is the best course of action, then?”

  “I am going to stay here until the sorcerers have concluded their duel, and then I’ll join you.”

  A quick glance confirmed Aunt Uza was still going strong, pausing for an occasional victory fanny shake when she had delivered a particularly strong jolt. Borya’s energy bolt was dim, and it was clear he was losing.

  “I think this is close to over. Find Fydor and keep him secure. Beat the shit out of him if it’ll make you feel better, but do not kill him. Wait until the royal family and leaders of other factions are present and a consensus can be made. Prove you are a rational leader who favors peace over violence.”

  “I am.”

  She ro
se on tiptoe and kissed him. “I know.”

  She watched him until he disappeared inside the building. Please stay safe, Nik.

  First things first. She needed to get a grip on what was happening around her.

  Borya and Uzana, electric bolts still tangling, were duking it out with no interference from anyone else. Good call. Getting in the middle of that wouldn’t end well.

  Fee was still at her side, and the cat shifters were defending the platform against…no one. A glance behind her let her know that the Slayers had formed a defensive ring around the queen, who was conferring with…Aleksi!

  Right now, this was the place to be. The safest for sure.

  “Stop before I make you a crispy critter,” Aunt Uza said. “I’m stronger than you and always will be.”

  Borya grunted in response, long, black hair matted to his sweaty face.

  “You and I both know you’ve lost this round. Because you’re blood, I can’t deep-six you, bro, but one of these hotties can, so skedaddle. Go lick your wounds and plan your next futile attempt at world domination.” The bolts crackled. “Somewhere else.” She growled, and her bolt got brighter as his flickered, then disappeared completely, allowing her bolt to nail him in the chest. He disappeared instantly.

  “Woo, Ellie Baby! Did you see that? It’ll take him a century to heal from that!” Aunt Uza hollered from across the balcony. “Hated to let him go, but we’re gonna need him down the road.”

  Need him?

  Aunt Uza pointed at her head. “I see stuff, remember?” Then she burst out in laughter. “Yippee! New Year’s fireworks right in his chest. Yeah! I’m hotter than asphalt in August.” She danced in a circle singing “The Macarena,” and Elena laughed—something she didn’t think she’d ever get the chance to do again.

  There was a gentle touch on her shoulder. “What about him?” Fee gestured to the wood elf still bound to the post.

  He kept his eyes down, certainly expecting to be abandoned there. She searched through her memories of their first meeting in the dungeon, hoping her new ability to see the past objectively would help. Fear. Incapacitating fear and something else colored his view of the scene. Confusion. Hatred—but not of the others in the cells. It was self-loathing. This pitiful creature hated himself.

  The air smelled of wet ash and rain. From the floor below, shouts and the sounds of metal clashing and scraping rang out. With any luck, this was the end of the old regime of hatred. Her job was to unite. What better place than right here to begin change?

  She inserted the key into the wood elf’s shackles.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Nikolai knew exactly where he’d find Fydor. Hopefully, the fucker hadn’t teleported out already. Forging a direct path through the battling warriors, which consisted of wood elves, bear shifters, and some rogue vamps against everyone else, he paused to snag a crappy sword from a dying wood elf. The resistance was crushing the poor fools fighting on behalf of his uncle, so he didn’t even bother helping out as he shoved and pushed his way to the door of the “rec room.”

  Fydor was standing perfectly still in the middle of the large, round space, his brother’s sword clasped point down in his hands and the crown on his head. The chains and shackles hung limp and empty from the wall where Nikolai had been bound and beaten by this monster of a man he’d once trusted.

  “I knew you’d come,” Fydor said, broad back to him.

  “I assumed you’d teleport out and flee.”

  He turned. “I tried. We are locked down, evidently.” Fydor pulled a vial out of his pocket, popped the lid, and downed it. “Aren’t you going to try to kill me, Nikolai, like I killed Ivan Itzov and Gregor Arcos?”

  There it was. The admission he thought he’d never hear. “Deathbed confession time, Uncle?”

  “Just figured you should know the truth before I kill you.” He raised the sword in a ready stance.

  Nik held out his inadequate “borrowed” weapon. “Hardly a fair fight, Uncle.”

  “Didn’t your father ever teach you that life’s not fair?” He swung a wide arc with the sword, missing Nik by only inches.

  “He taught me to level the playing field in the interest of fairness.” In one burst, he leapt and slammed his uncle’s hands with a roundhouse kick that sent the sword careening into the wall, then clanging to the floor along with the crown. He threw his own sword to the opposite wall. “Now it’s fair.”

  Fists raised, the men approached each other.

  Nikolai wanted to kill the bastard, but kicking the shit out of him would just have to do for now.

  “Ooo, honey, c’mon over here and let me check ya for ticks!” Uza shouted at a tall light elf pulling a sword out of a bear shifter’s torso. “Dang, those elves are hella fine, aren’t they, Ellie?”

  “Yeah, fine,” she answered, ducking to avoid being whacked in the head by a wood elf’s club. Stefan reached out and gave the elf a zap to the head.

  “Timber,” he called as it fell over.

  “Ha! Good one, hottie,” Uza said, clearly enjoying herself as they pushed through the waning battle in the great hall. Only a few of the revolution fighters were standing.

  “I hope Fydor didn’t teleport out,” Elena said, tripping a wood elf that was trying to sneak up on a vampire. She would have electrocuted him, except she still didn’t have any powers.

  “No way, Ellie. I put a roach motel spell on this place.”

  “I’m sure I’ll regret this, but what is a roach motel?” Stefan asked, stepping over the body of a bear shifter.

  “Mercy,” Uza said, pushing some hair back in place. “Haven’t you seen the ad on TV? ‘The roach motel! Roaches check in, but they don’t check out!’” She did a little shimmy and giggled. “My spell allowed folks in, but not out. Get it?”

  “Got it.” Stefan retrieved a dagger from the floor.

  “You asked,” Elena said as they stopped outside the round room where she rescued Nik. Sounds of struggle came from within. Grunts and smacks of fists on flesh.

  “Open it,” Uza urged. “This is exciting, like getting a present. Open it!”

  Stefan turned the handle and pushed the door open. Both men were bloody, Fydor more so than Nik, mainly on their fists and faces. Elena’s chest felt tight. He’d followed her request rather than his instinct. They were both alive.

  Nik grinned and gave Fydor a hard shove into the wall. “Took you long enough.”

  Dazed, blood running from his nose, Fydor slid down the wall to a crouch.

  “Sorry, we had to check out the scenery on the way in,” Uza said. “Nothing like a little elf tushie to improve your circulation.”

  “My dear uncle has been clearing up many things for me.” Nik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing more than wiping away blood. The smell of it made Elena’s jaws ache. As soon as this was over, she had plans for King Nikolai.

  Aleksi and Tatiana entered, along with Fee.

  “Well, Uncle, now that we are all here, why don’t you share with them what you told me?”

  It was just a flick of his eyes to the sword, nothing more, but Elena knew what Fydor planned. “Ni—”

  Before she could even get his name out, Fydor lunged, picked up the sword, and shoved it through Nik’s thigh. When he doubled over in pain, Fydor put the blade at his throat and pulled up, causing Nik to stand upright to keep from being decapitated—which would end his immortal life.

  Stefan and Aleksi had weapons drawn, but had not gotten there in time.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, or he’s dead,” Fydor said. “Close the door, drop your weapons, and move back against the wall.”

  Elena’s heart tried to leap out of her chest as she pushed the door closed and weapons clattered on the stone floor.

  “This is your fault.” His eyes twitched as he glared at Elena. “All your fault.”

  “Calm down, my love,” Nik’s mother said in a soothing tone. “You need a dose of your medicine so you can focus.”

>   “Yes. Medicine. It’s in my pocket.”

  Tatiana’s eyes flitted to Aleksi as she walked toward him. She knew! Aleksi must have told her on the balcony. She reached into his front pocket while he kept the sword at Nik’s throat and removed two identical vials of purple liquid. Again, she looked at Aleksi, who shrugged. “How about taking two this time?”

  “No. I need to focus. Only one. Now. I’m in pain.”

  “Of course you are,” she said, brow furrowed as she studied the vials.

  “Now.”

  Eyes closed and body relaxed, Nik grunted as Fydor jerked the sword against his throat.

  Tatiana pulled the stopper out of one of the bottles and poured it into Fydor’s mouth. Elena held her breath, hoping he’d keel over right then and there. Nothing. It must be the remaining vial.

  “I killed him, you know,” he said, still shaking. “I killed them both. I had to.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “And then the markings started appearing.” His eyes flew open, and his now-steady gaze landed right on Elena. “The markings saying you were coming for me, on the bodies of every Slayer under the Veil. So, of course, you had to die.”

  A bit of blood trickled down Nik’s neck where the blade scored the skin as Fydor tightened his hold.

  They needed to stall, possibly through enough time for him to drink that other vial of liquid. She had to keep him occupied. Damn, she hoped the elixir Fee gave her really rendered the ore in her arm inert. She focused on sending charge to her hands and felt a tiny buzz. Hardly anything, but maybe she’d charge up fast once it took effect.

  “I have a deal for you, Fydor,” she said.

  “No deals.”

  “You’ll like this one.” She moved to stand right next to him. “It’s me you want. An even trade. Let Nik go and take me.”

  “No!” Nik’s voice was strained and harsh. Desperate.

  “Why would you do that?”

  Yes! She had him now. “I love him. Would rather die than watch him die. Plus, you might be able to get my aunt to open the sunroof here so you can teleport if you use me as a bargaining chip.”