Blood Winter

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “Xaphan!” Alexander shouted, knowing there was no way the angel could hear him.

  Alexander whipped off his shirt, pressing it to Tyler’s stomach to help stanch the blood. He did not dare try to move him. Taking out the branch would likely kill him at that point. “Hold on, Tyler. Do not die. Not today. Today we get to win, understand? Max is okay. It would kill her to lose you. You have to hold on.”

  He shouted again for Xaphan and then Gregory, then turned all of his attention on Tyler, forgetting the battle, forgetting everything else. He pulled himself close, focusing all the force of his Prime on making the other Blade obey. “Stay put. It is not your time yet. You stay.”

  Dimly, he was aware of time passing. He and Tyler seemed to be in their own private world. No one looked at them. Tyler’s heart was slowing. Alexander lifted his head and howled his frustration. “Xaphan!”

  “Alexander? Oh, fuck.” Nami stood on the ground beside the firewood.

  “Get Xaphan or Gregory,” Alexander urged. “Hurry.”

  She ran. Minutes later, Xaphan plummeted out of the sky. He set his hands on Tyler’s shoulders, his face set.

  “I need you to pull him off the branch,” he said.

  Alexander reached under Tyler’s body and braced his hand against the log. He slid his other hand under the prone man’s back. “Ready?” he asked.

  Xaphan nodded.

  With a quick jerk, Alexander pulled Tyler up while pushing the branch down. He pressed the palm of his left hand over the wound in Tyler’s back and the other over his chest. He stayed that way, praying to whatever gods might be listening that Xaphan could heal him before he finished dying.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered. Then, almost imperceptible, he saw Tyler’s spirit flame strengthening. The gray was fading, and the oranges, reds, greens, and yellows pulsed stronger with every breath.

  He felt the wounds under his hands closing. Slowly, he shifted, sliding underneath the other man to brace him. It was another full five minutes before Tyler’s eyes blinked and opened. He looked up at Alexander for a long moment.

  “Tell me you aren’t my Princess Charming,” he said. “If you kissed me awake, I’m going to have to wash out my mouth with bleach.”

  Alexander grinned. “You wish. Sadly, Xaphan gets the honors.”

  Tyler sat up. “My hero,” he said to Xaphan, batting his eyelashes.

  The angel shook his head and grinned, then launched himself back up into the sky.

  “What’s going on?”

  “No idea. Been playing nursemaid to you.” Alexander paused, relishing the moment. “Max is back. She is okay.”

  Tyler stiffened. “Tell me you’re not joking,” he said quietly.

  “Not joking.”

  The other man closed his eyes, his head falling forward. After a moment, he lifted it. “And Sterling?”

  “Max bashed his head in. He could be alive. But if you are done napping, we had better go check on things.”

  Alexander stood, catching himself as the wood shifted beneath him. He held out a hand for Tyler.

  “I am not an invalid,” he said sourly.

  “Humor me,” Alexander said. “I like holding hands with you.” He grinned and waggled his brows.

  Tyler rolled his eyes. “Next you’ll be wanting to line dance.”

  “Now that you mention it . . .”

  Alexander led the way down the hill. Xaphan and Tutresiel stood between the two ragged armies. Lined up on the uphill side were what was left of the Last Standers. They milled uncertainly, watching the angels fearfully. Without Sterling, they had no one to pick up the reins of leadership. They were sheep. Tutresiel stood before them, his legs widespread, his wings raised, his sword held out before him.

  “Think people are more freaked out by the fact that he’s an angel with a big sword? Or the fact that he’s a naked angel with a big sword?” Tyler asked.

  Xaphan had his back to Tutresiel. He, too, stood with his wings spread wide. Fire sheathed his body.

  The two angels glanced up as they approached. Alexander now began to notice the bodies littering the battleground. There were at least a couple of hundred and plenty more wounded, by the sounds of the moaning and screaming he could hear.

  Thor prowled over to them. “What now?”

  “Now we finish this,” Max said, striding down the hill behind them.

  Tyler swung her up in a bear hug. Thor grabbed her and did the same. Alexander just watched her, devouring her with his eyes. She frowned uncertainly at him.

  “Make the Last Standers lay down arms,” she said to Alexander. “I’m going to talk to Kara’s militia.” She walked down the hill past Xaphan.

  Alexander walked up around the two angels to face the Last Standers. “You people have been under the influence of a witch,” he called out. “You may not believe me, but he is not the hand of God or anybody else. You have been committing crimes in his name, and the folks below think it is time for you to pay for what you have done. Lay your weapons down, and if you have someone who can speak for you, send them out now. I do not want any more bloodshed tonight, but if you do not surrender yourselves, I promise we will slaughter you. No more good people are going to have to spill blood for your idiocy.”

  The words were cold and brutal. However they had come to follow Sterling, they were responsible for feeding him power, for answering his orders, and for everything he had done. At the moment, he could feel no mercy for them.

  “That’s a bit harsh,” Tyler observed. “I like it.”

  “Go start taking away their guns,” Alexander said. “Anybody resists, drop them like a bad habit.”

  He walked down to where Sterling lay bound and gagged. His Bible and cross lay a few feet away.

  Alexander cut his legs free and helped him to his feet. Sterling sagged and then straightened. Just then, Gregory came around the corner. He was carrying a length of silver chain. It was round and woven like a rope. Witch chain. It was designed to suppress a witch’s powers.

  “Where did you get that?” Alexander demanded.

  “Giselle’s truck. I pulled it out before we left the farmhouse. Just in case. I’d forgotten it in the kayak. Flint and I got it when he came back for me at the temple. I thought it might be useful.”

  “You thought right,” Alexander said, and took the chain. He wrapped it around Sterling’s neck twice and tied it tight. It knotted like a good rope.

  The three of them headed down to where Max met with a half dozen people, including Kara. They looked at Sterling and then exchanged nervous looks as the three approached.

  “He’s toothless,” Max said. “That chain suppresses his magic. You don’t have to worry.”

  Kara glared at Sterling, then slapped him hard. “I wish I was sadistic enough to do to you what you have done to so many,” she said. “But unlike you, I’m a good Christian. We’ll kill you quick.”

  She introduced the others she had with her. “These two are Ethan and Buck Mercer,” she said, gesturing at two older men with stoic faces. “They came with me. Over there is Professor Larry Hollins and Lorna Sill. They brought the university crowd with them.”

  Alexander nodded at them. The man was thin, with wire glasses and a full beard. The woman was tall and thick around the middle, with iron-gray hair. Her hands were punched down deep into her pockets, and if looks could kill, Sterling would be DOA.

  “The one on the end there is Forest Driscoll.” He was young, with a square face and quick, dark eyes. “He brought a group down from Rattlesnake Canyon.” She looked at Max. “You’re welcome in our compound anytime,” she said, then glanced around. “Any of you. We owe you a huge debt.” She paused. “Those are real angels?”

  Max rubbed her ear, her expression rueful. “Yes, but don’t go thinking they’re kind and gentle. These are angry, vicious angels. Rude, too. They weren’t sent by any god. They are just creatures of magic, same as dragons and trolls and goblins. Don’t be fooled into thinking o
therwise.”

  “What now?” Lorna Sill asked. “What do you plan to do with the Last Standers? Sterling?”

  “We still have some cleanup to do,” Max said. “I am going to leave it up to you to deal with the Last Standers. I’ll warn you, though, don’t be too merciful. Sterling used magic to persuade them to follow him, but they still did what they did from their own free will. In the end, you have to figure out who needs to be punished and who you can trust. If you choose to lock them up, you’ll have to feed them and keep them warm, and that’s already going to be hard to do for your own families this winter. If you turn them out, they’re just as likely to turn around and come after you again. On the other hand, killing them all has its own drawbacks.”

  Alexander smiled grimly, watching their faces. They were going to be making some tough decisions. Better them than him. Humans should judge humans.

  He held out the end of the witch chain, handing it to Kara. “While he is wearing that chain, Sterling cannot do magic. If you do not want to deal with him, we will.”

  He and Max started to turn around.

  “Wait,” Forest said.

  Alexander stopped, his brows rising.

  “That’s it? The fight’s over, just like that?” He sounded faintly bewildered. “No more Sterling? No more Last Standers?”

  Max nodded. “There’s bound to be magical trouble cropping up. We’ll be around to take care of it. We’ll help you in other ways, too. Kara, if you’re willing, I’d like for you to set up a meeting with all of the leaders in Missoula. You can tell us what you need, and we’ll see what we can do to help.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Kara.

  “We aren’t going to put up with another Sterling,” Professor Hollins said. “We run our own area, and we don’t want any interference.”

  “We’re just offering help,” Max said. “I don’t want to tell you what to do any more than you want to be told.”

  He nodded, somewhat skeptically. Alexander did not really blame him. History was littered with wannabe dictators. But in time, he would learn that Horngate was different. They all would.

  IT TOOK THE REST OF THE NIGHT AND DAY TO BREAK everyone else free of Shoftiel’s prison pillars. The angels and Max shuttled her Blades back to Horngate before sunrise. She made a special effort to avoid Alexander.

  He had changed again. His looks were once again possessive and full of seductive promises. How long that would last, she didn’t really know. Neither did she care. Her heart was bruised and battered, and she had no interest in going down that road again. She loved Alexander, and maybe he loved her. But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t trust him not to bag on her, and he needed someone safer, less prone to dying. Love just wasn’t enough.

  Max slept alone and held Alexander at a friendly distance. She checked in on Tris, Kyle, and Tory. Tory, as usual, was defiant, and Kyle was unrepentantly sheepish. He was too excited about the angels reawakening to remember what an idiot he’d been.

  The night after everybody had returned, Max sat down in the dining commons. It was early yet, and only a few people had come in. Magpie came out with a quiche and a basket of biscuits. She set them down.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Healed up fine,” Max said, perfectly aware that Magpie was not referring to her physical health.

  “What about things with Alexander?”

  Max lifted her shoulder in a half shrug. “I—” she said, flushing as he walked in and started immediately for her table. “It’s dead in the water,” she said.

  “Is that because you’re scared? Or because that’s what you want?” Magpie asked, and walked away, not waiting for the answer.

  Alexander gathered up some butter and honey and dropped down in a chair opposite Max. He ate silently, his eyes boring into her with dark intensity. It made her shiver and ache with want.

  “You need to stop that,” she said finally, getting irritated.

  “Stop what?”

  “Don’t. Don’t pretend. You quit me. Turned yourself off like a water spigot, leaving me high and dry. I get it. I’m a pain in the ass. I haven’t been in a relationship in more than thirty years, and they scare the piss out of me. I don’t blame you for walking. But I can’t do it again. So you need to back off, Slick.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. “I need another chance.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m fresh out.”

  She pulled her hand away, stood, and strode out of the dining commons. Her stomach was in knots. His touch had sent flames of hunger flickering over her whole treacherous body.

  She wound through a maze of passages, looking for a place to hide, to collect herself. She felt him coming. He was stalking her. No use trying to hide from him. He could find her anywhere in Horngate. His emotions were molten, bubbling with a potent mix of hunger, greed, desire, fear, and longing. Max hardened herself. She wouldn’t survive him walking away again.

  She ducked inside a small lounge. It was being used as a sewing room, with piles of fabric and baskets of yarn and several magically operated sewing machines. She crossed to the other side of the room, turning around to wait for Alexander. He arrived less than a minute later.

  He stopped just inside the doorway. His eyes were dark, the edges rimmed with a thin ring of white. His gaze skewered her, sending darts of heat and ice burrowing through her. She watched him warily.

  “You’re following me,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “Yes,” he said, and stalked forward until he was just beyond arm’s reach.

  “Why?”

  “I cannot help myself,” he said with a rueful shrug.

  That struck a match to her anger. Not that he wanted to be with her but that he couldn’t help himself. As if the devil made him do it. She bristled, heat rising in her cheeks. “You’ll get the hang of it. Practice makes perfect.”

  “I do not think I will,” he said, then prowled the room, picking up bits and pieces and putting them down. “I do not want to.”

  The silence was wearing on her, and her temper thinned. “What exactly do you want?”

  “You,” he said, as if that meant anything.

  She snorted. “You had me. You dropped me like a bad habit. Game over. Move on.”

  “I love you.”

  She balled her hand into a fist. “Right. That’s today. How are you going to feel tomorrow? Or the next day? Or maybe next week or next year?”

  “The same.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that because your track record is so good?”

  Desperation flickered in his eyes. “I need another chance. I need you to trust me once more.”

  Max drew a breath and blew it out. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. Fine. Great. Hurray. But flip the coin, and you go ballistic whenever I get into a little trouble.”

  He snorted at “a little.”

  “You’re right. Let’s call a spade a spade. I’m in trouble a lot, Slick. I’m made out of the stuff. I breathe it. I eat it. That’s never going to change. There’s never going to be a world so safe that I won’t find myself in the middle of some kind of shitstorm. The problem is, you can’t deal with that. You don’t love that part of me. In fact, I’d be willing to bet money you hate that part of me.”

  She broke Alexander’s lock on her gaze and looked up, blinking back the tears that burned in her eyes. Stupid.

  “You are wrong. I love all of you. I have no choice,” he told her softly, and a thorny ache blossomed in her chest.

  “Oh, wow,” she said as a tear slipped out of the corner of her eye. She sniffed and turned so that he couldn’t see. “That was truly beautiful. Heartrending, really. Like when you have to eat your brussels sprouts in order to get your dessert. Or someone puts a gun to your head to steal your car. No choice at all. I am so fucking touched that I could just puke.”

  He closed the distance between them, reaching out to brush a strand of hair gently from her cheek. She shook him off. Undaunted, he slid
a hand down to cup her jaw and neck. He gently turned her to face him. She did not look up to meet his eyes. She was too fragile . . . exposed. Like a turtle on its back, its legs kicking in the air.

  He refused to let her hide. His thumb pressed her chin up until she was forced to look at him. His lips were inches from hers. His breath was warm on her skin.

  “I did not mean it like that,” he whispered, pleading. “I admit that I let the fear get the best of me. It was too much, and my mind locked down. I put my feelings for you in a box so that I would not go over the edge. I was close to going feral. Too close. I have been there once. I almost did not come back.

  “Not caring felt good. I felt free. Joyful, even. I understood myself. I was in control. I had not felt that way since before I met you.”

  “Sounds terrific, Slick. I can’t blame you.” She couldn’t, either. She could barely handle her feelings for Alexander and her grief over Niko and Simon. Half the time, she wanted to kill everybody in sight, and the rest of the time, she wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and cry like a colicky baby. Commitment of any kind made her panic. “I get it.”

  “No,” he corrected, his thumb rubbing along her lower lip.

  It sent shivers wobbling down through her gut. Not fair. She did not pull away.

  “You do not understand. What I feel for you is too big to stay in a box for long. It was not long after the locks broke open that I understood.” His mouth curved, his eyes full of memory. “I went mad. Or maybe what happened was that I woke up from my madness. I realized that I could never walk away from you. I could never want to. There is no sanity without you. I am whole only with you.”

  Her lips were dry. Max licked them, and his gaze fastened on the movement. The shivers in her stomach turned to shudders. His thumb stopped rubbing.

  “I love you,” he said again. Third time. “Can you believe me?”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. Could she? More than that, could she trust him again?

  Slowly, she reached up and traced the sides of his face with her fingertips. His body quivered beneath her touch. He was strung tight. She pushed up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his, light as gossamer. He remained rigid.