Magic Triumphs

by Ilona Andrews

  I sliced the back of my left forearm and slammed the cut against the side of the building. My blood shot out in a hair-thin stream, running along the walls, across the open spaces of the arches, across bricks and holes until it touched itself, completing the circle. A translucent red wall burst into existence and vanished, the blood ward sealing itself.

  One of the sahanu, a lean dark-haired man, leaped, aiming to escape through one of the arches, and fell back from the ward. The assassins turned toward me. They finally realized the truth: they were trapped in here with me.

  “There is no escape.” I crushed the vamp’s mind. Its skull exploded. The undead blood surged out of it, obeying my call, mixing with my own.

  “Don’t let her don the armor!” Carolina screamed.

  They charged me.

  I vomited a power word. “Osanda!”

  They crashed to the ground. Carolina tried to crawl to me, but my magic clamped her down.

  The mist of undead blood settled over me, flowing, shaped by my will, turning into armor. It coated my arms, my stomach, my back, impenetrable but flexible, the color of a ruby, the color of my blood. The mist congealed on Sarrat, forming a blood edge. I felt all my chains fall away. All the brakes were gone.

  The drained vamp fell next to me. I charged.

  The first sahanu tried to counter and I cut him in half with one swing. Carolina came at me, swinging her hammer. I sidestepped and cut off her arm at the elbow. She screamed, and I added a second mouth across her navel to put her down. A woman stabbed my back with her spear. A jolt of pain ripped through me as the armor absorbed the impact. I spun and beheaded her.

  Gust dropped from above, diving with his blades.

  I spat a focused blast of magic at him. “Hessad.” Mine.

  His mind broke under the pressure like a cracked walnut. He landed, mine before his feet touched the ground.

  “Amehe,” I ordered, sending a sharp arrow of power through him. Obey.

  In front of me Arsenic spat a power word. I flattened my magic into a shield and it glanced off. “Kill!” I told Gust.

  The green-haired sahanu sprinted at Arsenic, his twin blades raised for the kill. The other assassin twisted out of the way, sprouting spikes on his arms.

  Gust whirled like a dervish. The spikes pierced him in the same moment he buried his left sword in Arsenic’s chest. They sank to the ground together, but I was already moving. The world faded to the vivid precision of battle. Every moment mattered. Every step counted. There was no other place like it. This was my calling. This was what I did, and I danced through the battlefield, through the spray of blood and boiling magic, the sword of my grandmother’s bones singing a song as it bridged life and death.

  I cut them to pieces. I disemboweled and maimed. They would never again scare my son.

  The last sahanu collapsed.

  The ground at my feet was bloody. Pieces of human bodies littered it.

  I turned around.

  The knights stood on the street, their faces wearing identical expressions: eyebrows raised, eyes wide open, mouth a tense half-open slash across the face. Fear.

  The vampire had frozen, Conlan in its arms. My son was looking straight at me.

  Damn it, Javier. That wasn’t something Conlan should’ve seen. I had to mitigate it. I dissolved the ward and walked toward them, killing the magic in my blood armor. It crumpled to dust. I walked to him, my magic swirling around me. I had no cloak and I didn’t care.

  Cabrera and Norwood took a step back. Younger remained, awe on his face. He raised his hand toward me, fingers trembling, and Norwood yanked him back.

  I raised my arms. Conlan reached for me, and I took my baby from the vamp, my magic spilling freely out of me. Conlan hugged my neck and petted my hair. “Shai.”

  Oh, how I wished I were shiny and not a killer.

  A Jeep rocketed onto the street, taking the corner too sharply. Another followed, then an SUV, then a truck.

  The first Jeep screeched to a halt, and Martha jumped out of it, moving much faster than a plump woman twice my age should’ve moved.

  Six vampires came scuttling over the roof, in assorted colors of sunblock, like someone spilled a bag of Skittles. Taste the undead rainbow.

  “Secure the perimeter,” the lead one barked, landing next to Javier’s vampire. “Sitrep?”

  Beside me Javier’s vamp looked to the left, looked to the right, and unhinged its jaws. “The first generation of the sahanu is dead. The second generation of the sahanu is dead. The Order of Sahanu is dead. Everybody is dead.” Javier paused. “Praise be to In-Shinar, the Merciful.”

  “Stop it,” I growled at him.

  “Right,” the team leader said. “Team One Leader to Mother, fourteen bandits down, no pulse, scene hot, the Dove and Chick are secure. Advise?”

  The dove? Kate Lennart, the Dove? Just when exactly had I ever done anything remotely dovelike?

  The vamps had spread through the street, taking positions on the buildings.

  “Roger. Team One, hold position until cleanup complete.” The vamp swiveled to me. “Cleanup crew is on the way, ma’am.”

  Martha reached me, with George at her heels. “I’m so sorry. We thought he was down for a nap. He shouldn’t have been able to open the latch on the window bars.”

  Oh, but he did. I was mother to the smartest boy alive. I hugged him to me. He was still alive. He could’ve died. He would’ve died if Curran hadn’t called to tell me he was missing.

  It hit me like a ton of bricks. My knees almost gave, and I locked them in place.

  George wrapped her arm around me. “It’s okay,” she said. “He’s alive and safe. It’s okay.”

  She held on to me for another moment and let me go.

  The cars kept coming. The street filled with female shapeshifters. The ones I recognized were from Clan Heavy. Ten, no twelve . . .

  “Who are all these people?” I asked George.

  “The book club,” she told me.

  I pulled my magic back into me. “Has anybody heard from Curran?”

  “I called him at the Guild when Conlan came up missing,” George said.

  “Ma’am,” Javier said. “I have a report from the patrols. The Guild is under attack. Would you like us to assist?”

  “Yes!”

  “Team Three, In-Shinar requests assistance at the Guild.” Javier’s vamp scuttled away.

  Martha turned and roared, “Turn around! Everyone back to the cars! My son needs help at the Guild.”

  Clan Heavy ran back to their cars.

  I turned to the knights. “Help or get out of the way.”

  Norwood stepped aside, and I ran to the nearest car, Conlan in my arms.

  CHAPTER

  13

  DURING THE GUILD’S remodel, the architect decided to mitigate some of the damage to the building by adding a small balcony to the top floor. Framed by bay French doors, the recessed balcony was tucked away in the north wall, facing the Guild parking lot, all but invisible from the ground. The mercs called it Christopher’s Roost. Sometimes, at dawn or dusk, he’d come here and stand on the rail, watching the sun, before he sprouted his blood-red wings and soared into the air. I liked to come here during the day. I’d brought some plants—nothing fancy, some ivies, bamboo, and pothos—three chairs, and a big beanbag stuffed with sawdust.

  I sat in my chair now, Conlan asleep on the beanbag, and watched the flurry of activity below. Corpses littered the parking lot. Neig had sent a dozen of his creatures to attack the Guild. We pulled into the parking lot in time to see Curran rip the last of them in half. He’d grasped the beast by the neck and the arm and pulled him apart like he was tearing a piece of paper.

  Now he was below, supervising the cleanup. Biohazard had been called, but there was no telling when they would get here. Meanwhile, the
bodies had to be secured, the parking lot salted and disinfected with fire, and the wounded treated. I’d excused myself from all of it. I’d had my fight.

  Someone walked up the stairs behind me. They moved quietly, but all of my senses were still keyed up and I recognized the sound.

  “Hi, Martha.”

  The older woman sat in the chair next to me and handed me a cup of tea. I sipped. It was half honey.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “That’s okay. He’s full of surprises.”

  Martha glanced at me and drank her tea. “We put him down in his room for a nap.”

  George loved her nephew so much, she’d set a room aside for him in her house. Every time I saw it, it always cheered me up.

  “There is one window in the room,” Martha said.

  “I know.” It was a small window about five feet off the ground, secured with a grate of silver bars.

  “The grate has a latch,” Martha said.

  I nodded. Most bedrooms had grates that could be unlocked, otherwise the bedroom would become a death trap in a fire.

  “A lion cub can’t open the latch. It’s intricate.” She sipped her tea. “It requires human dexterity.”

  Where was she going with this?

  “But a shapeshifter child in human form can’t hold on to the bars, because they have silver that will burn their hands.”

  She paused.

  “Aha,” I said to say something.

  “Conlan opened the latch and escaped. There were claw marks on the wall and claw marks on the latch. He did this very fast. George put him down for a nap, and fifteen minutes later, when I came to check on him, he was gone.”

  That was how he avoided the silver. He turned into his warrior form, climbed up, and worked the latch with his claws.

  “Curran didn’t tell me everything.” Her voice held a gentle rebuke.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “That my grandson is a shapeshifter, and assassins are hunting him. What else should I know?”

  We would need her to watch Conlan. I had to come clean. “He can hold a warrior form,” I said.

  Martha startled. “The baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “For how long?”

  “For however long he wants.” I sighed.

  Martha fell silent.

  I finished my tea.

  “What else can he do?” she asked softly.

  “We don’t know.” I set my cup on the little table between us. “We know he can’t control his magic, and it makes him visible to people who can sense it. My father put a price on his head. One of my father’s associates was seen bringing a briefcase into the Keep. He was escorted by renders. He left without the briefcase. The next day Robert brought us an offer of friendship and alliance.”

  Martha leaned back. “Jim will never betray you.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because she’d cut off his balls and feed them to him,” Desandra said behind me.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The alpha of Clan Wolf stalked into the light and leaned against the wall. “I was driving by. Saw the spectacle. Thought I’d stop by. What are those furry foul-smelling dead things in the parking lot?”

  “They belong to a guy named Neig. He’s ancient, powerful, and he might be a dragon.”

  “What does this Neig want?”

  “To conquer the world. And for me to help him against my father. This was a demonstration of his power.”

  Desandra sneered at the parking lot. “Not exactly impressive. Oh well, most men have trouble with foreplay.”

  She had a point. With as much as he’d hyped his demonstration of power, I had expected bigger fireworks.

  “Nobody will harm my grandchild,” Martha said. “Clan Heavy won’t stand for it.”

  I didn’t say anything. Clan Heavy was powerful, but it was only one clan.

  “They say a lot of silly things about us wolves.”

  Desandra studied the polish on her nails. They were long, sharpened to a point, and bright yellow like the mane of blond hair falling on her back.

  “They say we mate for life, that we have lupine dignity, that we are all stoic and sour. Rubbish. But one thing is true. We forget nothing. We remember our friends and our enemies. If the Beast Lord were to betray his friends, well, he wouldn’t be fit to be a leader. If Martha goes for his balls, someone will have to go for his throat.”

  Orange light rolled over Desandra’s eyes. She smiled. “Poor Beast Lord,” she purred. “Why, he wouldn’t know where to turn.”

  A vampire dashed across the parking lot. Grape purple. What now . . .

  “Aiming for the Beast Lady seat?” I asked.

  “If they begged me to take it on bended knee, I wouldn’t.” Desandra grinned, baring sharp teeth. “Too much hassle. I’m a single mother. All I want to do is raise my children in peace.”

  “And rule the largest clan with iron claws,” I told her.

  “These are plastic.” Desandra waved her nails at me.

  “Jim knows what he would face,” Martha said. “He isn’t a fool.”

  “All the same, I don’t want Conlan near the Keep. And I don’t want him at your clan house. Too much risk for everyone.”

  “We will take care of Conlan,” Martha said. “We’ll do it on your street. Don’t worry about it.”

  “And Mahon?” I asked.

  “What the old bear doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Martha said.

  “You do what you need to do,” Desandra said. “We’ll do our part.”

  An undead vaulted over the balcony. “In-Shinar!” A desperate note vibrated in Javier’s voice.

  “What happened?”

  “Rowena failed to check in. We can’t find her or her vampire.”

  Damn it.

  I got up and closed my eyes. Magic spread before me. I couldn’t find someone I didn’t know. I could detect when a significant power breached my borders, but the sahanu were invisible to me. They didn’t have enough power. I didn’t know them well, but Rowena was related to me by blood, a bond strengthened by friendship and a vow of loyalty. It was a tenuous connection, but it would have to be enough.

  The sea of magic waited for me. I had to stir it up. I pulled my power in and released it. The pulse of magic rolled through the city like the toll of a giant silent bell. The floor underneath me shuddered.

  Pulse.

  Another pulse.

  Pulse.

  There, a faint trail, something weak, something small and insignificant but carrying traces of Rowena’s magic. Her vampire.

  It was on the very edge of my territory, just inside the border, left for me to find. And there was something else. Ancient and scorching, like someone had raked the fabric of the magic with white-hot claws. Neig.

  I opened my eyes. “Get Ghastek,” I snarled at Javier. “Get your strike teams. Get the bus. Get everyone.”

  * * *

  • • •

  WHEN TEDDY JO carried me into the air, he did it in a contraption he called “the sling” and I called an old playground swing. When Christopher carried me, he picked me up like I was a child. It wasn’t my favorite way to travel, but I needed speed, and he hurtled through the air like a hawk diving for his prey.

  We were going southeast, toward Panthersville. The city slid under us, so tiny it seemed unreal. How the hell did people get into planes on a regular basis before the Shift? I did a lot of things well. Heights and flying weren’t among them.

  “Would you like me to fly lower?” Christopher asked.

  “No.”

  What I would have liked was Rowena, safe and sound. I felt as if I were trying to outrun a giant rolling boulder while more boulders fell on me from every side. Whatever was holding me together w
as wearing thin, and when it broke, there would be hell to pay.

  I just had to find Rowena. I had to find her alive, not in a vat of boiling people . . .

  The spark of magic was almost directly under us.

  “We’re here,” I told Christopher.

  His great red wings folded. He went into a dive. Wind tore at me. I shut my eyes.

  We swooped and miraculously stopped falling. I opened one eye. Christopher stood in a pasture, holding me. A copse of magnolia trees, their thick branches twisting up, waited in front of us, the boundary of my territory just yards away, beyond the tree line.

  Christopher set me down, carefully.

  The pasture lay quiet. Insects chirped. Birds sang in the branches, some trilling melody. The heat of summer streamed from a sky so beautifully blue, it almost hurt to look at. The weak “glow” of Rowena’s magic was right in front of me. I pulled Sarrat out of its sheath and walked forward, under the dense canopy.

  The sound of someone’s hoarse breathing echoed through the woods, creepy enough to give me nightmares.

  A massive tree spread its branches before me. A bloody chain was wrapped around the trunk.

  I moved forward, carefully, one foot over the other, circling the tree.

  Step. Another step.

  The back of the trunk came into view. A dead vampire sagged against the loop of the chain, a massive pike thrust through his heart. Next to it, held in place by the loops of the same chain, a yeddimur sagged against the trunk. Blood stained the fur on its sides where it must’ve tried to gnaw itself free of the chain. Above them, a single word was clawed into the bark. Kings.

  “Kings?” Christopher frowned.

  I turned in the direction the bloodsucker would’ve looked if it were still alive. It made sense.

  Two vampires tore out of the woods and galloped across the pasture, both so old, no sign of upright locomotion remained. They ran on all fours, grotesque ugly creatures, so warped nobody would’ve guessed they’d started out as human. Their sunblock, a deep crimson, looked like fresh blood.