Shadow and Ice

by Gena Showalter

  “And yet, we’re still alive,” Thorn said, spreading his arms wide.

  Some warriors cheered. Others peered at the viking with interest. Fools. How could they not see the truth? Erik would gain their trust, then kill them when they least expected it. He had no king to command him, no reason to stop the war before a victor was declared.

  With a humorless smile, Erik said, “If you want to live here the rest of your days, if you hate your realm for forcing you to fight and threatening your loved ones, you will cease killing and ensure a winner is never declared. If you want to win the war so your realm can enslave mine, I will come for you, and I will defeat you.”

  Most of these warriors had family members awaiting their return. Like Knox, those warriors would stop at nothing to emerge victorious.

  “You know nothing about the High Council.” Ronan’s scathing tone mimicked the one inside Knox’s head. “Frozen, we were unable to communicate with our rulers. An unprecedented event. After five hundred years, the council sent a whole new crop of combatants here. Their All War hasn’t ended, either.”

  What!

  Vale’s small, delicate hand settled between his shoulder blades as questions assaulted him. Where were the other warriors now? Who had survived? Another Iviland slave might be here, alive and well, even now.

  When and where did the second group assemble? What powers and weapons did the survivors possess? How could Knox guard Vale from a threat he couldn’t identify?

  Would the High Council decide to combine the two All Wars, or opt to wait until both wars had a victor, then pit the two against each other?

  “You lie,” Saxon of Lassistan spat. When his ability to read minds was deactivated, he was more suspicious than most. “A favorite pastime of your race.”

  “No,” Luca of Graeland said. “He doesn’t lie about this. I was told the same. Currently there are nine survivors of the second war.”

  “Who? Give us names,” Petra demanded.

  “I only know a new realm was added to the Alliance sometime before the second Terran war kicked off. It’s called Llura, and their representative is more dangerous than any of us.” He added, “But the entire group went silent years ago, along with their Enforcer.”

  A small, smug smile lifted the corners of Erik’s lips. “They went silent because I imprisoned them. And the Llurian is just as dangerous as claimed.” Amid gasps of shock, he said, “When I heard rumors about warriors who mysteriously appeared in the west part of the North Atlantic Ocean—”

  “The Bermuda Triangle?” Vale gasped out.

  “—I captured and interrogated one,” he said. “As soon as I learned about the second All War, I apprehended the rest in ways only I can.” His smile held a thousand secrets. “They won’t escape unless I free them. Their war won’t interfere with ours.”

  Some soldiers paced, each lost in their own thoughts. Minutes ticked by, one after the other, each soldier lost in their own thoughts. The only thing that was certain? The coming bloodbath.

  * * *

  VALE MASKED HER TREPIDATION, frustration and rage. She wanted Zion splayed out on the ground, her boot compressing his throat, the tip of her sword resting between his legs.

  She would demand answers about Nola, and he would provide them, or he would hurt.

  Who was she kidding? She would hurt him regardless.

  He was still standing only because she suspected he’d lied to protect the sick Nola. Her sister had warned her. Do not believe Z. Finally the text made sense. But Vale needed confirmation, and soon, before her nerves razed her.

  Waiting for the melee to start had to be worse than the actual melee.

  Vale clashed gazes with Pike of La Fer. He stared, which was creepy enough. Then he blinked. Had a milky film just slid over his irises?

  He was tall, muscled, golden from head to toe, and absolutely stunning, but he radiated pure hate. For all she knew, he’d lusted for Celeste like so many others.

  Knock, knock.

  Who’s there?

  Celeste’s lovers.

  Celeste’s lovers who?

  Celeste’s lovers want you dead.

  Knox stepped in front of Vale, claiming Pike’s attention. A single action, and yet he’d completely undone their efforts to appear unattached.

  Who was she kidding? No one had bought the pretense.

  Head a little higher, Vale faced Colt of Orfet. He was shirtless, and she noticed an iridescent tint on his shoulders and arms. Scales? On his right hand, he wore the ring he used to communicate with his ruler. On his left, the ring comprised of microbots. It was silver with a bulbous center.

  “Fifteen minutes till showdown,” Knox whispered.

  How could he tell? Her trepidation worsened, her knees quivering. So much at stake.

  “Time is running out,” Adonis announced, and she tasted cinnamon and cloves. “I have joined Erik’s roster. You would be wise to do the same.”

  Two warriors agreed. Bold, who possessed a hammer capable of shattering bones with a single strike, and Ryder, the one who’d killed Orion.

  Vale knew Ryder had a nifty device he could use to be in two places at once, fighting up close and at a distance.

  “No others?” Erik asked, and the flavor of salted caramel overshadowed the cinnamon and cloves. “I admit, I expected more.”

  “We are not fools,” Bane said, his tone deceptively casual. He tasted like butterscotch with bite.

  Soon, she was going to have to stab him.

  Erik looked at Vale, one black brow arched in question, and she shook her head no. If he was telling the truth, he intended to push a pause button, nothing more. What would happen if the High Council got sick of waiting and kicked off a third AW, or sent their Enforcers to invade? Better to have a definite outcome than an uncertain future.

  He shrugged, all Your loss, sugar tits.

  “You’ll never halt the war. But I’ll help you take out the murk and his female, your greatest opposition.” Emberelle’s voice reminded Vale of frosted strawberries, until one tang mixed with the others. She cringed.

  The pale beauty had secured a pair of wrist cuffs from the one named Lennox, and Vale really, really wanted them. Because she couldn’t activate them, Knox was the better choice. If they could reverse time in short bursts, as suspected...

  They could right any wrong they inadvertently committed.

  “You’ll have to get in line.” Rush directed a patronizingly sweet smile at the fairylike woman. “I’m going to rip off the murk’s head and display it on a spike as a lawn ornament.”

  Petra batted her lashes at the pair. “I’ll let you stab the murk after I decapitate him.”

  “Wow,” Vale mumbled to Knox. “Your antifan club is super passionate.”

  He shrugged, unconcerned. “It’s a gift.”

  Was he even a little nervous, or just an expert at hiding it? “What does murk mean?”

  Now he stiffened. “It’s a derogatory term used for those who control shadows, derived from the word murky.”

  “Dude. Immortals are so mature,” she said with enough volume to catch the attention of everyone around her. “What?” she demanded. “You want a piece? Come and get it.”

  The taunt left her mouth before she could stop it.

  Thankfully, no one took her up on the offer—yet.

  “Ten minutes.” A whisper, Knox’s honeyed whiskey obscuring the other flavors.

  How the heck was he keeping time? Her mind was too busy whirling with questions, fears, hopes, ideas and everything in between.

  “I feel so Lord of the Flies.” Her heart raced. Remember, a good business owner adheres to a plan. A great business owner adapts to change.

  Be the coffee bean.

  “You will give me your attention.” Seven’s husky timbre boomed through the mountains, eerie and
reminiscent of sex, gravelly, like music, but also like screams. “The High Council has decided.”

  Shivers rushed down Vale’s spine. Iced vanilla vodka invaded her mouth.

  A bomb could have exploded in the clearing, but she doubted the players would have budged. They watched the Enforcer with dread.

  “Your war will continue as is,” Seven said. “If combatants from the second war are found before a winner is crowned, they’ll join you. Representatives who hail from the same realm will compete against each other, just like everyone else. If combatants from the second war are found after a winner is crowned, it will not change the outcome. Those warriors will be returned to their realms.”

  Silence, a whistle of wind.

  “Five minutes,” Knox said softly.

  Steady. Control your reaction. Other warriors began to prepare, unsheathing their weapons. There was a coil of whip, and different size swords. Daggers. Guns of every caliber. A stun gun of some sort. Metal gloves different from Zion’s, with links that ran the length of the wearer’s fingers, and ended in claws.

  Smiling with anticipation, Domino lifted a shield and banged his fist against the center.

  Vale unsheathed Celeste’s sword, the tips of her fingers burning. Knox kept his hands free, his attention laser-focused on Emberelle. Yes, the woman had threatened him, but come on! They had another target in mind.

  Unless he found her attractive?

  Fairy-girl is going down.

  “In addition,” Seven said, and groans abounded. “When the second group of combatants disappeared, the High Council sent a third to a place called Antarctica. They are still active, and their war will join yours at the next assembly.”

  More men and women to fight. Great!

  Erik’s brows drew together with confusion, as if he couldn’t compute what he’d heard. “How many warriors are left?”

  “You will discover the answer at the next assembly,” Seven replied.

  “Four minutes,” Knox intoned, unfazed by everything he’d learned.

  Different slogans began rolling through Vale’s mind.

  Blood is the new black.

  All War: You’re going to lose your head.

  My boots are made for stomping—your butt.

  How many players would converge on her? On Knox? At least three immortals had stated their desire to end her man first. What if Vale inadvertently distracted him?

  Can’t let myself distract him.

  “Three,” Knox said.

  Okay. Vomiting wasn’t a possibility, but a probability. Keep it together. Tremors rocketed in intensity and collected in her joints. Though she wanted to appear strong and confident, she might have to settle for conscious.

  Would this be her last day on earth? A day of blood, pain and failure?

  “Two minutes.”

  Deep breath in, out. No matter what, she would give this her everything. She wouldn’t curl into a ball and cry until it was all over, and she wouldn’t hesitate to do what needed doing.

  She studied the placement of each player, mentally plotting a course to Colt, a 3-D map forming in her head. Four steps ahead, dodge left, three more steps, shift right, four more steps, contact.

  And Bane... She couldn’t go after Bane and Colt, just like Knox couldn’t go after Carrick and Colt. And just like Knox, she had to make a choice. Colt won. She wasn’t sure her sword would work on the beast-man, anyway. Next time, though, she would make sure she was standing next to Bane during roll call. And she would pre-poison her blade with earth-made toxins.

  Gulp. First, she had to survive.

  Knox popped the bones in his neck. “One minute.”

  She began to wheeze.

  “Fifty-nine seconds. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven.”

  As he quietly counted down, her tremors upped in intensity.

  “Forty-three. Forty-two.”

  The best pep talk she could currently manage: Don’t die.

  “Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.”

  The Enforcer lifted his scythe and, like a ghost, seemed to float away from the combatants. He stood off to the side. Vale’s knees knocked together. Her lungs constricted, making breathing more difficult.

  “Twelve. Eleven. Ten.”

  Run! Flee! Before it’s too late.

  No. You must go after Colt.

  “Three. Two.”

  One.

  “Happy warring,” Seven said.

  Whoosh. G-force gales charged with raw aggression blustered through the clearing, but none of her adversaries reacted.

  This was the calm before the storm.

  Then, with his gaze locked on Emberelle, Knox palmed his revolver and—

  Whoa! At the last second, he’d repositioned and shot Erik six times. A savage act. Merciless. Knox went for the eyes, nose and throat, then put two in the Viking’s heart. The only other earthling collapsed, out for the count, but not dead.

  Ding, ding. Suddenly war cries pierced the night. Footsteps stomped, bodies slammed together and metal clinked against metal.

  Happy warring indeed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  PAINED GRUNTS, GROANS and bellows of rage. Chaos all around. Skin and muscle split. Blood spurted, and not all of it was red. Different species meant different body compositions.

  Adonis laughed as he hacked through the crowd.

  Knox fought the compulsion to follow him and win the Horn of Summoning, as Ansel had ordered him to do, should the opportunity present itself. This wasn’t the right “opportunity,” which was the only reason he was able to focus elsewhere.

  Playing the long game.

  “Gremlins just got watered,” Vale said when Knox punched a man who was trying to get to her.

  Whatever that meant. He homed in on Colt, who had gotten pinned in, unable to leave the clearing.

  {Kill the girl, go after the bots.}

  Ignoring his eyaer, Knox cloaked himself and Vale in shadows, making sure the darkness never blocked her sight line. If she’d had the power to activate Shiloh’s lenses, he could have hidden her completely. But she didn’t, so he couldn’t.

  Fear for her incited a riot in his chest, torching his wits. His thoughts devolved, the urge to punish the warriors who threatened her well-being nigh overwhelming.

  Keeping an eye on Bane and Zion, lest they come after his woman, Knox moved forward. Vale kept her back pressed to his, moving with him, guarding him as he guarded her. He wished he’d had more time to train her, wished she’d learned how to control her abilities without thought or effort. Mostly, he wished he could whisk her to safety and return to fight alone.

  Gunshots from behind...in the mountains? He spun, putting his body in front of Vale’s, just in case. Good thing. A bullet slicked through his chest, burning like fire.

  “Knox!” She pressed a hand to the exit wound, stemming the flow of blood. “Maybe we should go.”

  Ignore the pain. “I’m fine.” On the move again, Vale at his heels, he replaced his gun with a sword he’d won from a viking centuries ago, and a hooked dagger.

  Colt had inched closer to Rush and Adonis, who stood guard over the fallen Terran. Erik had yet to heal from the spiked bullets.

  “If you can,” he said, “chop off Erik’s feet.” They had a minute, maybe two, before they lost their tactical advantage.

  “That’s gonna have to wait. Petra and Ronan are on our six.” Vale gasped. “His sword...”

  “Look away.” Knox glanced over his shoulder to find the Solorian’s sword lit up. Shiloh’s lenses saved him from temporary blindness, but Vale wouldn’t be so lucky.

  Ronan had to be stopped. Otherwise he could strike while Knox and Vale were distracted by Colt.

  Very well. Knox switched gears, preparing to—

  Zion appeared, punching into Ronan’s chest,
his fist coming out the other side. The Solorian dropped, sword dulling.

  With a scream of shock, Petra slammed her weapon into the ice, and a tower sprouted directly in front of Ronan. Zion’s next punch shattered the obstruction into thousands of tiny pieces.

  {Take him out.}

  “You’re welcome,” Zion snapped at him, before leaping at Bane, who’d decided not to sit on the sidelines for once.

  A surprised groan had him spinning, tensing. Vale grappled with Pike, the two caught up in a lethal ballet. She landed more blows than the experienced warrior, winking in and out of focus, her motions as fluid as water.

  Knox’s shadows tracked her, trying to stay with her, but they failed. But Pike couldn’t track her, either. Had Ranger’s memories surfaced?

  When other warriors joined the fray, Knox pushed them away with a whirlwind of shadows. He did the same to Pike, who stumbled backward. Vale struck the bastard next, gouging his torso and twisting the blade. It was clear the poison had been washed away when Pike dropped his weapon, but remained standing.

  Huffing and puffing, she raised her sword. Knox recognized the maniacal gleam in her eyes. She’d been ensnared by bloodlust, a deep seeded need to save herself from future attacks.

  {Let her proceed. When the influx of memories immobilizes her, end her.}

  Knox’s lips drew back from his teeth. Dagger sheathed, revolver in hand, he shot Pike in the knees. Vale’s sword cut air, buying him a little time.

  Snarling, she followed the male to the ground.

  “No!” Knox dove for her. Too late. The blade—

  Stopped midair, blocked by Bold’s hammer. Screaming in agony, Vale collapsed. Vibrations from the hammer had just shattered every bone in her body.

  With a savage roar, Knox fired a succession of bullets at Bold. Two clipped his shoulder, sending him careening into Emberelle.

  Movement at his other side. He turned. A glowing whip lashed around his wrist, electric pulses frying him inside and out in seconds. Muscles contracted until he lost control of his limbs, but he did his best to shoot Thorn, the whip’s wielder.