by Eileen Wilks
“Anyone watching us?”
God. He wouldn’t know, would he? They’d blinded him and locked him in a glass cage. . . . Would they have done that if they’d taken over his mind? “There’s a guard about five feet from the wall facing the main part of the cavern. Big fellow, over six feet, maybe two hundred pounds. He’s watching us, but not closely. Looks bored. He has a rifle, looks like an M-16, and . . . I can’t see what’s holstered at his hip.”
“Is he wearing black pajamas?”
“Something like that.” She squinted at the other end of the cavern, trying to make out details. The light wasn’t good. “Why?”
“Just wondered if they played dress-up all the time.”
“There are three people at the other end of the cavern wearing robes. White robes. Ah . . . they’re cleaning a big slab of rock. Maybe an altar.” She couldn’t make assumptions about Cullen. Maybe sorcerers were harder to control than others, and they’d used pain to weaken him.
“Getting ready for tonight’s performance, are they?” He sighed. “Not to knock the company, sweetheart, but I was profoundly discouraged when they dumped you two in here with me. Seems to accord us all the same status, doesn’t it? And I’ve worked so hard to persuade them of my willingness to sell out friends, family, whoever. I quite thought I’d succeeded.” He paused. “Almost makes one doubt their sincerity.”
She looked at him, frowning. “What in the world are you doing?”
He was sitting cross-legged, his back to the rest of the cavern, his hands busy—with nothing. He smiled. It was an odd sight in that ruined face. “Weaving. It helps to have a hobby. Would you like to meet my imaginary friend?”
“No, thanks.” Only one way to know for sure. She leaned toward him and put her hand on his arm.
“Why, sweetheart.” His smile turned suggestive—and that was just plain grotesque. “I’m not averse to an audience, but do you really think this is the time?”
Lily snatched her hand back. The buzz of magic had been strong and strange—lupus, but mixed with something else. It had not been slimy. He was clean. “You’re annoying, but you aren’t bespelled.”
“Ah.” He still had his eyebrows, though the hairs were rusty with flecks of dried blood. He lifted them. “So you know about Helen’s habits? Interesting. No, I’m shielded, much to her frustration.”
“Who’s Helen? The telepath?”
He continued with his air-weaving. “That’s all the name I have for her. They call her Madonna, and not after the rock star, which would certainly piss off a lot of . . . ah, he’s waking up. Good.”
How did Cullen know that, without eyes? But he was right. Lily turned and found Rule’s eyes open. “Give it a minute before you try to move,” she said softly. “Cullen says the stuff they gassed us with hits lupi harder than humans.” Automatically she rested a hand on his shoulder. And froze.
He grimaced. “My mouth feels like I forgot to take out the garbage . . . what is it?”
“The spell. It’s gone.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” She should have noticed right away, the first time she touched him. She hadn’t been thinking—the need to touch had overridden everything else. Damn, damn, damn . . .
“What spell?” Cullen asked sharply.
Rule’s eyes flicked to hers, a question in them.
“He’s clean,” she said, “but . . .”
“If he’s clean, we can trust him.” Grimacing, he rolled onto his side and sat up. His eyes widened when he saw Cullen. “Holy Mother. They did a job on you, didn’t they?”
Cullen spoke without looking up from his mysteriously busy hands. “Never mind that now. What are you doing here? I wasted a lot of time and energy getting you that message, dammit.”
“We’re supposed to be defeating the bad guys and rescuing you,” Rule said dryly. “But my protection seems to have failed.”
Cullen snorted. “No, it hasn’t.”
Lily shook her head impatiently. “It’s gone. I’m a sensitive. I can tell.”
“And I’m happy for you, I’m sure, but if Rule weren’t protected, he’d stink of that damned staff of hers. He doesn’t.”
“I know the spell is gone. I couldn’t be mistaken about that.”
“Had a protection spell, did he?” Cullen looked up briefly. “You’re right. I don’t see anything like that. But there’s some spooky things going on with the power flowing between you two.
“Uh—you see this?”
“I can’t see your face, sweetheart, but I can see your colors.”
“Apparently you’re seeing the mate bond,” Rule said. “But it doesn’t confer any kind of protection.”
“Well, it’s doing something.” He was back to playing with his fingers, frowning intently. “Which is not supposed to be possible, but a lot of odd things have been happening lately, haven’t they?”
That’s what Grandmother had said. “But what? What could the mate bond do?”
“I’d guess that Rule is somehow drawing on your immunity to magic. The downside is that the protection spell couldn’t stick. But his borrowed immunity seems to have kept the lovely Helen from working her wiles on him, so it evens out.”
“Not entirely even,” Rule said. “The spell was also supposed to lead the others to us.”
“Others?”
“Max, several federal agents, Benedict, and his squad.”
Cullen sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to see Benedict come howling to the rescue—if I could see at all, that is. But it sounds as if we’ll have to handle things ourselves.”
Lily thought dimly that she should have been terrified. But the knot of anger was growing, taking over her chest. It was cold, icy cold, and calm rather than roiling. She welcomed it. I won’t let them do it. I won’t let them hurt him. I’m older now, stronger. I can fight back.
Rule scooted close to her so that their hips and arms pressed together. He bent his head. “You all right?”
“Yes.” Rage was better than fear. She leaned her head close to his and breathed in his scent. The richness of it flooded her, blending with the rage. “We’re down to your teeth and my reflexes.”
His smile was swift, the gleam in his eyes feral. “My teeth are sharp.”
“And I have my grandmother’s reflexes.”
“There!” Cullen exclaimed, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s the last one. Let’s see how it works.”
She turned to look.
He was lowering his hand, palm down, toward the stone floor, his head tilted as if he were staring intently at it. When his hand reached the floor, he waited a second, then exhaled gustily. “It didn’t explode. Always a good sign, I think.”
Lily was beginning to think that Cullen’s head might not have been tampered with, but it wasn’t screwed on too tightly.
“Can that guard hear us?” Rule asked.
“I don’t think so, if we keep our voices down,” Lily said, then, “What?” at his and Cullen’s identical astonished expressions.
“I spoke under the tongue.”
“Subvocalizing, you mean? You couldn’t have. I can’t hear that.”
“Can you hear this?” Cullen asked.
His lips hadn’t moved. Wide-eyed, she nodded. “Yes.”
“Then I’d say you’re getting a little something through the mate bond, too. Fascinating. But no time to dwell on your new trick. There are things you need to know. First . . .” He glanced at Rule, his voice for once free of mockery. “I’m sorry, Rule. Mick’s with them.”
Rule’s face went blank. After a moment he said, “You’re sure?”
Cullen nodded, his face twisted with pity. “He wandered over to exchange courtesies with me. Uh . . . your current predicament was mostly his idea, I’m afraid. His idea as prompted by Her Nastiness, that is. She has this bloody abomination of a staff that snap-crackle-pops with power. With it, she can plant thoughts, not just read ’em. It�
��s not quite like mind control, but it comes close.”
They’d taken Rule’s brother. His brother. They’d turned him traitor, using his mind against him. Lily’s hands clenched into fists. “We saw the results with two FBI agents.”
“You have some idea, then,” Cullen said. “From what I’ve seen, she finds thoughts that seem to head in the direction she wants, then twists them a few notches until she gets the results she’s after.” He looked at Rule, then away. “Mick, uh . . . the way she twisted him, he believes he’s saving Nokolai by getting rid of you and Isen.”
Rule’s eyes were bleak. “I will kill them for what they did to him.”
“You’ll have to take a number,” Cullen said grimly. “The good news is that these Azá don’t know jack shit about sorcery. I’ve been collecting sorcéri, and—” He stopped, his head turning.
Lily heard it, too. Chanting. How far away? She couldn’t make out words.
“I can blow this thing,” Cullen continued quickly. “Our glass cage, that is. I’ve got control of the grid under the stone. At least, I think I do. My plan was to wait for the next time Her Holiness showed up, and when she was standing close enough—ka-boom!” His ruined face was fierce with joy for a moment. Then he shrugged. “But I’m not crazy about going ka-boom along with it. So the question is, do we all go up in glorious martyrdom together? Or do we try something when they come for us? Which I gather,” he added, “they are about to do.”
The chanting was closer. She could hear words now, but they weren’t in a language she knew.
“An explosion.” Lily licked her lips. “Yes. It would make a good distraction.”
“If you can do it from a distance,” Rule said. “Can you?”
“Probably . . . yes, I can take this . . .” He put his hand back on the stone. “I need a piece of it. Like a fuse.”
Lily looked at Rule. “If Benedict and the others are anywhere close, they’ll hear it.”
“But they may not be. Cullen and I will have to keep the rest of them back while you get the staff away from her.”
“Which means we need to be away from this cage but close to her before we act.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Cullen’s cheer bordered on the manic. “She’ll herd us around personally with that damned staff. You should know, though—”
“They’re here,” Lily said as the first cowled figures emerged from one of the exits. Their robes were white. They carried candles. Yes, she wanted to tell Cullen, they do play dress-up. . . .
“That staff of hers,” Cullen said quickly. “She can paralyze you with it. The pain is . . . incredible. I don’t know how close she has to be to use it that way.”
“She can’t paralyze me,” Lily said. “And if Rule shares my immunity—”
“Maybe he shares it, or maybe it’s halved, split between the two of you.” Cullen grimaced. “Be good to make some tests, but—”
The white robes had given way to a group wearing black—ninja-style dress like the lone guard near their cage.
“—there’s no time, is there?”
White robes headed for the other end of the cavern, chanting. “There are twelve guards, twice that many in robes,” Lily said quickly. “The guards are armed—rifles and side arms. All male, I think. With them is a woman dressed in white.”
“Headed this way,” Rule added.
“Her Holiness. God, I can’t wait. If the Lady is kind, I’ll sink my teeth into her throat tonight.”
“I’ll make an arrest, if possible.” But Lily’s words were as much for herself as him, because the rage inside her understood. Agreed.
Cullen’s lip lifted in a snarl. “You can arrest what’s left of her, if you like.”
The guards were forming up in two lines, leaving a passage for the woman.
“If you’ve got any sense,” Rule snapped, “you’ll help me with the others so Lily can tackle Helen.”
“Get the damned staff away from her,” Cullen said, low and fierce. “Get it away, and I’ll burn it. It has to burn.”
A high, chilly voice said, “Open it.”
They were here.
The woman was tiny. Her body was concealed by her loose white robe, and the hand holding a tall, wooden staff was almost childishly small. She had a high, rounded forehead, very pale skin, and a small chin. She looked about fifty.
Lily felt her lip lifting in a snarl. This was the one who, through whatever intermediary, had killed Carlos Fuentes. She’d made a bloody pulp of Therese. She’d corrupted Rule’s brother. She planned to kill Rule, to feed her goddess with his death and the mate bond.
The burly guard unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Madonna.” Cullen was on his feet, smiling. “How nice of you to drop by. I’d ask you in, but my quarters have grown a bit crowded.”
“I am going to remedy that, Cullen. The woman first,” she said to the guard.
Lily had hoped they’d be careless with her—she was small, she was female, and they hadn’t bothered to tie her hands. But the gun barrel in her back told her to wait. Wait a little longer.
Instead she looked in the eyes of her enemy and said, “You’re under arrest.”
That earned her a single peal of girlish laughter. Amusement lingered in the curve of her thin, pale lips. “With what am I charged?”
“Murder by magical means. Conspiracy to commit murder by magical means.”
“You may have a little trouble bringing your case to trial, Detective. I don’t think they allow dead people to testify.” She looked at the guard behind Lily. The one with a gun in her back. “Use the knife—at her face, I think.”
The flat of a blade was pressed against Lily’s cheek.
“You will behave, won’t you, Mr. Turner?” she said in that high, sweet voice. “Or my guard will remove your mate’s eye. I prefer to deliver her undamaged, but it isn’t necessary.”
Rule’s lips were white. His eyes were black. Completely black.
“Bend your neck and allow my man to slip the chain over.”
He bent. One of the guards slid a choke chain around his neck, then backed away and tugged. “Come on.”
Rule left the glass cage with three rifles trained on him. They led him to stand next to Lily.
“Now, Cullen, it’s your turn.”
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” he said amiably.
She shook her head. “If I have to punish you so that my men can carry you out, I will not be gentle.”
Cullen heaved a huge sigh. “Persuasive as always.”
They tossed a pair of handcuffs into the cage. Cullen groped for them and put them on. He moved to the doorway, ducked his head, and received a chain like Rule’s.
They started down the cavern, with Helen bringing up the rear. Too far away. Wait, Lily told herself. The bitch was the priestess or something like that. She’d be part of the ceremony. She’d have to come close.
“How far should we get to be safe from the blast?” Rule asked.
“The farther the better, probably,” Cullen replied.
“Probably?”
“You think I’ve done this before?”
The white robes stood in curved rows facing the altar stone, with a wide aisle left open. They were still chanting as Lily, Rule, Cullen, and guards processed down the aisle like a macabre wedding party. Chanting the same phrase over and over.
One man stood next to the altar, leading the chant. His hood was pushed back. He was an older man, with a pleasant but nondescript face. The kind you would forget two minutes after meeting him.
“Is that Harlowe?” Lily asked, surprised.
“Yes.” That came from Cullen. “He’s a slimy bastard—not a true believer like Helen, but he likes power. He’s not happy with her right now. She’s pushing them faster than he likes.”
Lily nodded. Her mouth was too dry to spit. Her mind was clear, though, her heartbeat steady. Her rage burned cold and strong. Not this time. You won’t kill someone I love wh
ile I watch. Not this time.
The chant stopped.
“Line up in front of Her altar,” that clear, childish voice said.
Lily reached it first and turned to look out at a sea of anonymous, white-robed figures. Shadows danced from the candles they held.
Rule stopped. “Mick,” he said, his voice hoarse. He was looking at one of the white robes.
One of the guards smashed a rifle butt into Rule’s kidneys, staggering him. “Keep moving.”
The white-robed figure stirred slightly.
“Mick,” Rule said urgently, “never mind about me. Will you let them sacrifice my Chosen?”
The figure spoke, his voice thick, as if the words were dragged up against resistance. “Your . . . Chosen?”
“He’s lying to you, Mick,” Helen said. “There is no Chosen here. Just one of your brother’s whores.”
“I am Rule’s Chosen,” Lily said quickly. “That’s why she wants us. Because of the mate bond. She—” The blow from her guard came too fast for her to dodge, an openhanded slap to the side of her head that sent her to the ground.
“Rule.” Mick’s voice was suddenly clear and urgent. “On your honor. Is she your Chosen?”
“Yes.”
Mick shifted, agitated. “That’s wrong. That’s wrong. You can’t—”
“Mick.” Helen moved closer to him. “They’re lying. You know they’re lying.” She held out her staff—
“Now!” Rule said.
And the other end of the room exploded in a blistering, white-hot flash.
Lily was on the floor, so she rolled quickly two times to get out of the reach of her guard. She felt Rule Change as the room exploded again—with screams and gunfire this time—and she rolled up into a crouch, aimed herself at the small white figure who was turning toward Rule, staff extended. And leaped.
She crashed into Helen, bringing her to the ground. The woman landed fighting, hitting Lily with the staff, screaming, “Damn you, damn, you, die!”
Lily barely noticed the blows. She seized Helen’s head in her hands and banged it against the stone floor. Once. Again. Yes, smash her head, yes, she won’t touch Rule, won’t hurt him. Helen was limp now, not moving—
Something struck her shoulder. She felt this blow; the shock of it flashed down her left arm, which went suddenly weak.
