Shadow and Ice

by Gena Showalter

  Okay, stop staring at him all dreamy-eyed. But how was she supposed to guard herself against this—a teasing Knox?

  After she explained her dismay, he shrugged. Shrugged!

  “Being hunted by authorities is a big deal,” she told him.

  “Not for you. In public, I’ll conceal you with my shadows. No one will ever see you.”

  “That’s great, wonderful. Except I can’t be with you every second of every day.” Or forever. “And I can’t see when you use your shadows. I’m blinded.”

  “I’ll help you kill Bane, then, and win his goggles. You’ll be able to see through the shadows.”

  Go head-to-head with a real live Hulk? No, thanks. But someone had to do it sooner or later. “I can’t activate weapons, remember?” What a bummer. “Maybe I’ll cut and dye my hair to—”

  “No,” Knox bellowed. Then, more calmly, he grumbled, “You won’t be changing anything about your appearance. Promise me. You are perfect just the way you are.”

  A secret part of her thrilled. He likes me just the way I am. Another part of her worried. “You wouldn’t want me if I looked different?”

  “I’ll want you regardless of hair color or anything else. What I do not want is my inability to protect you to force a change.”

  All of her thrilled. “You told me to do whatever is necessary to survive. If I’m captured, I’ll be locked away. I’ll miss check-in and get axed by Seven.”

  “If you’re captured, you can become intangible.”

  “I tried when I was imprisoned, but couldn’t do it. Think about it. Celeste was an expert, but she couldn’t ghost through ice. Which means the ability is limited—” The answer slammed into her. “Yes! Limited. Some things are impenetrable. Ice, metal. Vine. Rope.” What else?

  And dang it, maybe she should keep the torrent of info to herself.

  He said, “You can use the Rifters to—”

  “Let me stop you there. If Rifters were infallible, you guys would have gotten out of the ice a lot sooner. Plus, cops would’ve confiscated my Rifters before they’d locked me away.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “By the time I’m finished with you,” he said, his tone hard and uncompromising, “you’ll be able to escape any situation.” He motioned to the laptop with a tilt of his chin. “Teach me how to use this...whatever it is.”

  He was helping her, despite the danger to his game, so she would help him, despite the danger to hers.

  Techy wasn’t her favorite language, but she imparted what knowledge she could. “Erik has a team of people to monitor and even manipulate what’s posted. At some point, everyone will acclimate to modern life, and he could use social media to lead players into an ambush.” Unless he’d meant what he’d said, and hoped to stop the war in its tracks.

  Trust no one.

  As Knox played online, researching different types of weapons, watching movie clips on YouTube to “better understand how your people fight,” she studied his maps of ancient Earth.

  “I want Kevlar,” he announced. “I think Erik wore a version of it when last we fought, and it’s better than what I have. I also want a rocket-propelled grenade launcher. Two rocket-propelled grenade launchers.”

  Lord save me. “So acquiring weapons outside the war isn’t against the rules?” Before she finished asking, Celeste’s memories supplied the answer.

  “Once we are on another realm, we can utilize any weapons we find.”

  “Military-grade gear will be tough to get.”

  “We need to find a way. Erik must have an incomparable arsenal by now.”

  “Yeah, he has a huge tactical advantage against all of us. Which makes killing him the ultimate coup.” She tapped her fingers against her chin. “If I absorbed his memories, I could find out everything he’s done and confiscate his stash. The rod would be rendered useless, though. Hey, speaking of, why didn’t Cannon freeze everyone? And what if Erik freezes us at the next Assembly of Combatants?”

  Knox stiffened, confusing her—until an answer clicked. He didn’t want her gaining any other abilities to use against him. Ouch.

  “Mark my words,” he said. “Erik will claim he let us go, but he’ll be lying. That’s what combatants do. I think the realm’s atmosphere has heated considerably over the centuries, and the rod can no longer produce unmeltable ice. As for Cannon, I suspect he chose the rod for its ability to control weather anywhere, anytime. I also suspect the rod wasn’t able to freeze us until Erik modified it somehow. But you’re right about one thing. Erik must be eliminated, his resources utilized.”

  “How do we get to him?”

  “I could open a rift directly into one of his properties, but he knows I can do it, probably wants me to so that he can execute an ambush.”

  She wiggled her brows. “It’s not an ambush if you know about it.” Amid Knox’s protests, she claimed the laptop. “All right. Tell me everything you know about the players, every single one of them, and I’ll tell you what I know. Then we’ll come up with our plan.”

  At first, he was hesitant. The more he spoke, the more he got into it. She typed and typed and typed until she thought her hands would detach from her wrists. By the time she stopped, a 3D board had taken shape in her head, peppered with the names and abilities.

  Closing her eyes to concentrate, she moved the warriors around, studied the trickle-down effect, whose death would impact whom, and which skills, powers and weapons had wide-spread impact.

  “Him,” she said with a nod. “Colt of Orfet. The ring that breaks apart to become hundreds of microbots. Is it his weapon or an innate ability? He controls the bots?” His own mini-army.

  “Weapon. And yes. At the Orfetling’s command, the metal bug-like devices burrow under skin and rip through organs.”

  Celeste’s memories rose to fill in some of the gaps. “A rumor suggests the bots are spies and trackers.”

  Knox sat up straighter. “Where did you—or Celeste—hear such a rumor?”

  “Ranger first, then Gunnar confirmed.” And duuude. Suddenly she felt as if the little critters were crawling inside her mind, clocking her every thought. “If we control the bots, we can peg everyone at the next assembly, and do a little spying and tracking.”

  “Of course, but the bots could be used against us. As you said, an ambush isn’t an ambush if you know about it. Someone could purposely lead us astray.”

  True. Which was probably the reason Colt hadn’t spied. Ugh! Unless he had.

  Knox’s eyes narrowed. “Still. I want the ring. Colt is weaker than Ronan, and he’ll be easier to take down. But he’s a hider, and harder to stalk. He only reveals himself at assemblies.”

  “Not always. He met with Celeste once or twice. At the time, she was working with Ranger, and he wanted the ring, too. They planned to kill Colt together.”

  “Can you take me to their meeting spot?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  He reached out, patted her hand. “Vale,” he said, the cadence of his voice sexual, dazzling. “Your help has been invaluable. Thank you.”

  Praise from Knox? Ear porn! “You’re welcome.”

  He leaned toward her, inch by agonizing inch; by the time they were only a whisper away, she was panting. So was he. His pupils expanded, a dark storm cloud listing across a morning sky.

  “Here.” He cleared his throat, straightened and held out a fist. His fingers opened to reveal a set of glittering Rifters. “These are yours.”

  Warm shivers, streams of excitement. “Thank you.”

  Silent, Knox slid one crystal after another over the proper fingers, and dang if it wasn’t proposal-like...which kinda sucked because a part of her kinda sorta wished it was an actual proposal.

  Marry a man she’d known less than a week? Hitch her forever-after wagon to her potential murderer? Hardly. But come on! She was already playing
house with Knox.

  Well, so what? They were part of a team, messing around, sharing secrets and pasts...maybe even falling for each other, even though they were doomed. The immortal version of Romeo and Juliet.

  The more Vale liked him, the harder it would be to end him. And to save Earth, she had to end him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, caressing her cheek with two of his knuckles.

  She’d made a mistake when she’d offered him an alliance, hadn’t she? They needed to split up. Soon. In a day, maybe three. And no more making out.

  She swallowed a whimper, pasted on a smile. “I’ve got my Rifters now. What could possibly be wrong?”

  He frowned, radiating confusion, but let the subject drop. Standing, pulling her to her feet, he said, “Come. Rather than continuing today’s training, we’ll weapon-up and head to the location you mentioned.”

  Entering the real world for the first time as a wanted woman...actively hunting a man she hoped to kill... Vale shuddered. But she’d decided to go all in, so she would do both of those things and more.

  As Knox strapped different weapons from neck to toe, she anchored Celeste’s sword to her back and just breathed. In, out. In, out.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready.”

  He didn’t open a rift, but peered at her expectantly. “Are you prepared to fight if it proves necessary?”

  Nod. “I am.”

  “You’re prepared to fight both immortals and mortals?”

  “Yes.” One day, victory will be mine.

  Don’t cry. Don’t vomit.

  “Are you prepared to kill an immortal?” he asked.

  “I am. I won’t think about it, I’ll just act.” The more combatants she killed, the more abilities she would acquire, and the more of an advantage they—she would have.

  “When is the only acceptable time to strike at an opponent?” he asked.

  “Wait. You’re quizzing me about today’s fighting lesson?”

  “Just answer the question, Vale.”

  “You mean, answer the trick question. The only acceptable time to strike an opponent is always.”

  The corners of his lips twitched, enchanting her. Maybe she could stay with him a few weeks. “If you get into trouble...?”

  “I’ll shout for you?”

  “Are you asking or telling me?”

  “Telling,” she said. Jeez.

  “You’ll shout for me unless...?”

  “It’s a matter of life and death. Then I’ll run and hide, and wait for your signal to return.”

  He gifted her with a smile of approval, and it lit his entire face, leaving her dizzy. “Is kicking a man while he’s down acceptable?”

  Knox of Iviland smiled at me. Me! And it was glorious. “Kicking a man while he’s down is encouraged,” she replied. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

  “Very well. Open a rift.”

  “Me?”

  “You.” His eye sockets darkened as he summoned shadows to conceal them as well as the bunker. Darkness rose from the ground and tucked around their bodies, shielding everything but her eyes.

  Oddly enough, the darkness comforted her.

  Mimicking Celeste’s memory, Vale pictured the location she wanted to visit and clinked the Rifters together. Vibrations. A surge of power. She reached out to swipe her fingers through the air.

  The instant she’d completed the act, she had Rifters’ remorse. “The article! What if I’m taking us to the middle of a highway and we’re hit by a car?”

  Knox shrugged. “We heal, and try again.”

  Roughly twenty feet away, the air ripped apart at an invisible seam, creating a rift that widened, bit by bit, as if two parts of a curtain were being pulled apart, revealing...more shadows.

  The heavenly scent of lavender and—she sniffed—a hint of the pheromone drifted through the bunker, but it wasn’t coming from her. And it was stronger than the one she usually produced.

  Her cells seemed to catch fire, burning for Knox’s. Leave him? No, never. She wanted him, needed him, all of him. Mouth...fingers...shaft. Yes, oh yes. Now!

  “Valina?”

  “It’s not me,” she said, her panties soaked. “What do you see?”

  “A lavender field. Sunlight. No people.”

  Confused—and more aroused by the second—she unsheathed her sword and marched forward, keeping pace beside Knox.

  Once she’d bypassed the shadows, she was greeted by the lavender. A lovely sight. Dappled sunshine paid tribute to purple petals, pollen dancing on a warm breeze.

  On one side of the field was a stretch of dewy emerald trees. On the other side was a rolling hill that led to a quaint two-story cottage. Something about it prodded at her mind...what, what? Argh! The answer eluded her.

  The gorgeous scenery offered nothing in terms of shelter or protection from other combatants. But then, Celeste and Ranger had preferred to meet in the tunnel beneath the field, the combatants she’d brought here completely unaware of the other man’s nearness.

  Dang. How many players had she bagged and tagged?

  “How did the field survive the passage of time without an immortal guard?” Vale asked.

  “Celeste could have used the pheromone as a measure of protection. One whiff, and no one would want to harm these flowers.”

  Good point.

  Head fogging...stripping away any fear for tomorrow, leaving only desire for today. This man enthralled her, causing arousal to boil her blood. His shoulders were so wide, the sinew in his torso a path for her tongue, his muscle mass bulging but also lean, his waist trim. In a word: delicious. She wanted to strip him and watch as sunbeams stroked his skin. Wanted him to strip her in turn and press her back against a soft bed of foliage...then plunge into her aching core as the sweet scent of lavender enveloped them.

  Yes! Give me.

  “Something’s wrong. Very, very wrong. But also very, very right...” A single step brought her body flush against Knox, her breasts smashing into his chest. Every time she breathed, her nipples rasped against him. Mmm. She purposely breathed faster.

  He fisted her hair to angle her face the way he liked it, and leaned down, only to pause just before contact. “Eyaer...danger.” His eyes narrowed as he looked over the top of her head. Somehow he had enough strength to release her and step back.

  She swallowed a groan of disappointment and spun away before she jumped him. Planting her weight on her heels, she analyzed the field once again. A memory unfurled...

  When the ice cave came down, Celeste was stabbed in the ensuing fray. Ranger, a gorgeous male with hair the same baby blue as a morning sky and eyes as white as summer clouds, had scooped her up and brought her here, where she’d doctored the flowers with her pheromone at the start of the war. Long before she’d ever hooked up with Ranger or anyone else.

  So, basically she’d roofied combatants.

  Her blood, Vale realized. Celeste had doctored the flowers with her blood, letting it saturate the soil, absorb into the roots, in essence making the flowers immortal; they survived, no matter the weather, no matter the passage of time. And as Knox had said, no one had ever wanted to destroy them.

  Once, Knox had mentioned mystical ink and its invasion of his cells. She suspected the pheromone had worked the same way, fusing with Celeste’s cells, and now Vale’s and the flowers.

  As soon as Celeste had healed from her injuries, she’d left Ranger sleeping in bed and returned to the ice mountains to meet up with Gunnar, the man she truly loved—

  Whoosh!

  A large shadow swooped over the field, startling Vale from her thoughts. The blue-haired man from her memory flew closer. Ranger, who hailed from some kind of cloud realm, wore a white shirt, matching pants and boots with little wings on the heels. He stretched out his arm, as if reaching fo
r her...and a stream of fireballs shot from his fingertips.

  Those flames hit like bombs, exploding around them. The heat! Sweat poured as she backed away.

  The smoke should have aided Knox’s shadows, but instead chased them away, leaving both he and Vale out in the open. He nocked an arrow, the only one he carried, and released it.

  The projectile soared after the other man, a happy whistle ringing out. Ranger dodged to avoid injury, arcing up, angling down, then spun to refocus on Knox.

  The arrow returned.

  “This is a life-and-death situation. Go,” Knox shouted at her. And then he ran from her, putting distance between them.

  Ignoring Vale, Ranger darted after him. Dodging, ducking, avoiding the arrow. Had he learned about Celeste’s death? Had he loved her? He must have.

  He hurled a second stream of fire at Knox, who sidestepped. Yes! Except, the second inferno joined forces with the first, burning a trail straight toward her man. Oh, no. He wasn’t getting hurt on her watch. They would part soon enough. Until then...

  Vale stomped out the flames before they had a chance to lick off a layer of Knox’s skin. To her horror, Ranger unleashed a third stream. Knox managed to evade it, too, and tossed a dagger, the blade whipping end over end.

  Ranger crouched midair, executing a half turn. He would have avoided injury altogether if the blade hadn’t passed him and boomeranged off the arrow, returning to slice through a wing on a boot. The arrow chased him as he fell, slicing through his chest and coming out his back.

  Down, down, he tumbled. Thud! Upon impact, the ground shook. Was he alive? Dead? Surely multiple bones had shattered. New fires erupted around him, dark smoke curling through the air.

  Sword in hand, Vale raced forward. She wished her reasons were 100 percent altruistic, but they weren’t. She wanted to save Knox from another attack, yes, but she also wanted to hijack Ranger’s ability. If she could find a way to combine the pheromone with the smoke...

  I’ll be unstoppable.

  The arrow returned to Knox. He caught it as he raced toward the fallen man, just like Vale. He wanted the boots for himself. Boots Vale would not be able to use, ever. Maybe he also wanted to prevent her from strengthening, able to produce streams of fire from her fingertips. Something he would never be able to do.