“She does not want to lose Max,” Alexander countered. “Besides, what she does not know will not hurt her, will it?”
Niko hesitated, clearly tempted.
“The wall isn’t made of stone, it’s made of magic. Will his fire work if Tutresiel’s sword hardly scratched it?” Tyler asked.
Alexander whirled on him. “Get Xaphan now, or spirits help you, because if Max does not return, I will take Prime, and I will make you suffer the rest of your despicable and very short lives.”
“Careful,” Niko warned. “You’re only immortal if someone doesn’t kill you first. The only reason you’re still alive is Max doesn’t want you dead. But if she’s gone—” His face contorted and settled into a cold mask. “A bullet to the back of your head will take care of you.”
Alexander smiled, his eyes narrowing to slits. He spoke softly, his voice flat. “Do you think I have survived a hundred years without knowing how to take care of myself? Do not think me an easy target. But since you and I both agree that Max needs help, fetch Xaphan. Unless you have a better idea.”
Niko did not move at first, clearly not liking the idea of taking orders from Alexander. Finally he gave in. “All right. But don’t think this is over. You and I will have a discussion soon. Tyler, go get him.”
Tyler reacted with pleasing speed and launched himself at the stairs. In that same moment, Alexander’s back prickled as a wash of magic filled the vault. He spun about. The dilapidated door on the wall had returned. Only now it stood ajar, a brilliant wedge of pale blue light pouring through the narrow opening.
Instantly Alexander moved forward. But before he could touch the handle, the door swung slowly open.
Chapter 3
MAX STEPPED DOWN INTO THE BOTTOM OF THE vault with Tutresiel hard on her heels. She was surprisingly glad of his company. She winced. It felt like a symptom that she was going soft somehow, and that worried her. She needed her hard edges to survive the world of magic, especially as the Guardians went to war. She couldn’t afford to let herself be distracted by anything. She was Horngate’s Prime, and it was her job to protect its people, not get them killed because she was thinking of friends or—
Alexander’s sharp-featured face rose in her mind, and she banished it instantly, but not before liquid longing pooled in her stomach. She groaned inwardly. He made her want to do bad, bad things to him and with him. Regularly and often.
Down, girl, she told herself, even as his image crept back into her mind with his piercing eyes, the smooth touchable planes of his muscular chest, and his lips—oh, holy mother of fuck, that man could kiss. Shit. She drew a breath and let it out slowly, trying to focus on the trouble at hand. Scooter.
She stopped and eyed the magical curtain cutting the space in half. What was it for? She didn’t think it could keep Scooter out if he wanted in. He’d blow through it like it was wet tissue. Maybe it was there in case he decided to abandon Horngate. This way, their enemies wouldn’t be able to just walk through the back door unannounced.
“Well?” Tutresiel asked. “Change your mind?”
She eyed him. He was leaning against the wall like he was settling in to watch a movie and wasn’t sure it was going to be any good.
“So if you thought there was a decent chance you might disappear forever, would you feel bad not letting your friends say good-bye?” The question surprised her as it left her lips. Soft. She was going so damned soft. But if Scooter kept her, this would be the second time she’d left the people who mattered most to her without any word of good-bye. The first had been when Giselle turned her, and now—
Her throat went dry. Now, thirty years later, she was going to go drag them to Horngate for safety. What would they say when they saw her? Dread made her go cold. She’d made sure they thought she was dead. Would they be angry? Would they be glad to see her? Would they be afraid of her? Max looked just the same as she did when she vanished out of their lives, but she was nothing like that girl—Anne. Her name had been Anne. No one but Giselle knew that. She’d never intended to go back to them, although she had someone keeping an eye on them, just to be sure they were always safe and didn’t need for anything. But with the Guardians waging war on humanity, she had to bring them to Horngate. They’d never survive otherwise. So now she was going to have to face them. If she could make Scooter let her go long enough to bring them back.
If.
She nearly laughed at herself. Here she was worried about what her family would say when she went to get them and what Niko and the others would say if she disappeared without saying good-bye. Only one could happen, but she was obsessing about both. Idiot.
Tutresiel’s brows had risen as he considered her question. “You’re supposing I have friends.”
“You’ve been alive a long time. You’d be truly pathetic if you hadn’t managed at least one or two. Unless they all died with the dinosaurs.”
He smiled. “There are some who might miss me.”
“So? Would you feel bad?”
“Guilty conscience?”
She looked away. “I didn’t want them to stop me, and they’d have tried. Probably would have succeeded, too, in the shape I’m in. Then they would have gone inside instead of me. I couldn’t let that happen. All the same, they’re going to be pissed that I walked out on them without a word.”
“I take it you didn’t leave a note?”
She shook her head. “I was in a hurry.”
He shook his head, tsking. “Very thoughtless.” He patted his über-tight pants. “And me without a pen and paper.” His brows rose. “What would you have said?”
She frowned. That was just it. Niko and Tyler were her best friends, and they probably didn’t even know it. She’d kept them at arm’s length. Lise and Oz, too—Oz was the Sunspear Prime, and Lise was one of his Spears. And Giselle. She was—
Max didn’t know what the witch-bitch was anymore. What would Max have said to her? Bite me? See you in hell? Or maybe ….. thanks. She bit her tongue. Who’d have thought she’d ever thank Giselle for kidnapping and torturing her? But the witch had made her a Shadowblade and brought her to Horngate and given her a purpose in life. Not to mention giving her good friends. Just at the moment, all the pain she’d suffered seemed worth it. But telling the witch-bitch that—Max wasn’t sure she’d ever want to.
And then there was Alexander.
What kind of note could she have left him? Wish I could have licked you like a Popsicle?
Only it went deeper than lust, as much as she hated to admit it. He knew what it was like to be Prime—the weight of responsibility, holding her people’s lives in her hands. It was a burden that no one else at Horngate could understand the way he did, except Oz and maybe Giselle, and she couldn’t talk to either of them. She’d never expose herself to Giselle that way. As for Oz, he was one of her best friends, but they’d been doing a flirting dance for so long that she didn’t dare do anything to tip the balance into something more. She didn’t want him that way—not the way she wanted Alexander. And man, she wanted him worse than a starving man wanted food. She rolled her eyes at herself. She really needed to get laid.
She sobered as she eyed the door again. She should have left him some word. She more than wanted him. She’d opened herself up to him in ways she’d not done with anyone since before Giselle turned her. And she trusted him with Horngate. He’d guard it with his heart and soul. She knew it, even if no one else did. But they’d come around, especially if Scooter took Max. Giselle had already lost too many Spears and Blades, and she didn’t have the strength to make more at the moment. You didn’t just make a Prime quick from scratch. It took many years. Niko and Tyler were close but were still a year or so away. And even if they jumped to Prime tomorrow, Max was certain that neither of them could take Alexander in a challenge. He’d slap them down like puppies. And if Max did survive Scooter, then Horngate would still need all the strong warriors it could get. They hadn’t seen the last of war.
So what would she have really said in
a letter? Sorry I’ve been a bitch the last few weeks. Nothing personal, I was just trying to stay alive. Oh, and by the way, nice knowing you. She snorted softly. That would have gone over well. Why did it always come down to words, anyhow? Her tongue always got her in trouble.
“I have no idea what I would have said,” she said finally, answering Tutresiel’s question. “It was a stupid idea and pointless, anyhow. I’d better get going.” She eyed the dilapidated door on the other side of the magic barrier, then looked at Tutresiel. “I’ll see you when I see you, kitten.” She hesitated. “This really is a good place. You could’ve done a lot worse than fall into Giselle’s lap.”
“Strange words, considering how much you hate her.”
“Yeah, but as witches go, she could be a lot worse. I’m just saying …..” What was she saying? “I’ve been you. Hell, I am you. Chained up and pissed about it. But this place grows on you, if you give it a chance.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “But you’re the only one I like, princess. And you’re blowing out of here.”
“Aw. You like me. Ain’t that sweet.”
“You like me, too, princess,” he said with a taunting grin. “Don’t try to deny it. So do me a favor and come back before I’m forced to skewer some of your annoying little minions.”
“Well, good news, then. I have no intention of letting Scooter keep me today. I’ve got some things to take care of, and he’s either going to have to kill me or wait till I’m good and ready.”
“What makes you think he won’t kill you?”
“Because he wants something from me. If I die, he’s shit out of luck, so he’s not going to kill me. Not today, anyhow. Of course, there’s always tomorrow.” She tossed a little wave at him, wishing she was as confident as she sounded, and then strode to the barrier.
Magic washed over her in a tingling shower, and then she was through. One of her talents was to go through any lock without needing a key. She went to the door and pulled it open.
Beyond should have been a wide cave that narrowed to a long tunnel leading out of Horngate. At least, that’s what it had been when she went through it the first time. But Scooter had changed things up. Instead, a wall of magic filled the entry with pale blue fire. She stared at it a moment. Well, she’d known he wasn’t going to make it easy on her. He’d made that clear enough in her dreams. She grimaced. If he wanted a little revenge, she couldn’t stop him. She sucked in a breath and strode forward into fire.
It felt like she’d gone through a wood chipper. The pain reached deeper into her soul than she’d ever felt before. It was like someone was carving at the core of herself with dull surgical instruments. It was intimate and horrifying, and she screamed. Except she had no mouth, no throat, no lungs.
She didn’t know how long she drifted there. She felt Scooter all around her. He was angry and resentful and gloating over her pain.
Deep inside, smugness filled Max. The fucker had no idea what he was dealing with. There was only so much pain a person could feel before it became monotonous. Or maybe Max had too much practice with torture. Thanks to Giselle’s endless ministrations, she’d learned long ago to embrace pain and turn it into something like pleasure, knowing that surviving without breaking was the same as winning in this kind of game.
She didn’t fight. She simply waited as the waves of agony washed through her. On some level, she felt her healing spells trying to interfere, but they were impotent against Scooter’s power. Still, she knew that she could very well die before he was done punishing her. Her spells could drain her to the point where she no longer had anything left. Part of her was willing. If he killed her, she won the battle. Or rather, if she died, he lost the prize, which amounted to a win for her. But no. She had things to do.
“I’m dying.” She didn’t know if her mouth moved or if she’d simply spoken the words in her mind.
For a seemingly endless time there was no answer. Then, suddenly, she was whole again and falling. She sprawled on the floor of the cave. She rolled over as copper-colored sand filled her eyes, nose, and mouth. She coughed, inhaling the fine grains. She doubled over, nearly puking as she hacked violently.
Finally, the fit subsided, and she lay breathless. The sand was hot, like it had been in an oven, though not unpleasantly so. She sat up and looked around. The walls of the cave were made of faceted crystals of every color. They glittered in the soft blue light of Scooter’s magic. The door was gone, and Scooter himself was nowhere to be found.
Max sat up. She was exhausted, and her body felt like taffy. She looked at her hands, loosely thatched together between her knees. They were little more than skin wrapped around bone sticks. Her wrists and arms were no better. She hadn’t lied when she told Scooter she was dying. He was draining the life right out of her. Maybe she should have dubbed him Dracula instead of Scooter.
She looked around. “Well? I haven’t got all day,” she called.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the sand began to shift. It rippled as if blown by the wind. A couple of feet in front of her, it rose in a tall, round shape, the sands whirling in a tight spiral. Then the bottom and the top split and a bulb grew on top, turning into the semblance of a man. A moment later, the sand contracted and firmed into a solid shape. It smoothed, and Max found herself staring at a naked Scooter.
He looked exactly as he had before. He had long blue-black hair that shone iridescent in the crystal light. His skin was the same color as the sand, and his features were hawklike. His body was muscular, and he looked like he might have been thirty years old, except that his onyx eyes were ancient. Flecks of blue magic swam in their depths, reminding Max that he was not human. As if she needed a reminder. She wasn’t even sure if he was a he. Except that he had the right parts between his legs, and they weren’t too shabby.
He stared down at her, his expression oddly impassive, while she could feel his anger pounding against her like a club.
“Can you tone that down a little?” she said, brushing away invisible cobwebs and propping her head on her hands. “I’m having a hard time staying upright as it is.” The pounding sensation eased, though it didn’t go away.
“You promised to come to me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“But you did not.”
“I’ve had some other things on my plate. More important.”
He made a low rumbling sound almost out of hearing, and the walls quivered. The crystals made a thin chiming sound that made Max ache in the marrow of her bones.
She was too tired for tact. “Look, Scooter, here’s how it is. I’m a Shadowblade, and I’m bound to serve and protect Giselle and Horngate. Right now, my compulsion spells don’t want me anywhere near you. So just walking in here costs me the equivalent of a stomach full of razor wire. On top of that, the Guardians are trying to kill off most of humanity, and I really want to go fetch my family and bring them to Horngate before they become casualties. So you come in third on my priority list.”
“You are my gift,” he hissed, and it sounded disturbingly snakelike. But then, his father was Onniont, the Horned Serpent, who dug the rifts between mountains.
“So you said. But I’m not ready to be unwrapped yet. I’ll make you a deal. You stop invading my dreams and don’t try to stop me from going to get my family, and I’ll come back and let you do whatever you want with me.”
“You are mine. You will stay.”
Max gave a slow smile and stood. “Now, that’s a problem for you, Scooter, because you want me alive, and I’ll make sure you’ve got nothing but a corpse to play dollies with. Trust me, I’d rather die than lose this particular game.”
He said nothing, just staring. Max didn’t look away. His eyes seemed to pour out of his sockets like moon-dappled oil. The tide washed over her and she found herself shrouded in something that felt like an electric web. It laced her skin, and everywhere it touched, jolts of electricity sizzled. She leaned into it, feeling her strength ebbing. If he kept this up mu
ch longer, she’d be worm food. Still, she didn’t argue or fight. It was a game of chicken, and she didn’t mean to blink first.
Speckles of white and green flashed across her vision, and she recognized them as signs that she was losing consciousness. She sagged, slumping over onto her side. She felt oddly warm and comfortable, and though her compulsion spells flogged her like whips, telling her to fight, she didn’t move.
Suddenly the black shroud vanished. Scooter was behind her. He lifted her, cradling her against his chest. His skin was as warm and soft as any man’s, and he smelled of grass and dirt. Max’s head fell back to nestle in the crook of his neck. He stroked his hands over her arms and breasts, then lower, to her belly and legs. She had no sense of what he was doing until he repeated his gestures twice more. Then she realized she was being cocooned in magic. She didn’t struggle. He didn’t want her dead.
Soon she felt the sludge in her head starting to thin, and the gray cleared from her vision. Healing energy seeped into her body, and she began to feel like she might be strong enough to hold up her own weight again. Still, she didn’t try to escape Scooter’s hands. She found the sensation both soothing and strangely erotic.
She drew a breath and turned to snuggle closer against him. He was still naked. And apparently the plumbing worked, because he was sporting a growing hard-on. Not for the first time did she wonder just what he planned to do with her.
“I have to go,” she said, still resting in his arms.
His hands stilled. “Time is running away.”
“Time for what?”
“For what must be done. What you and I must do.”
“I need a week. Maybe a little longer. Then I’m all yours.”
He nodded slowly, as if he had a choice. “I will wait.”
“I’ll come back to you.” Max pushed herself to her feet. She felt back to normal strength. But then, he wouldn’t want to send her out damaged. Better odds of her getting back safe if she wasn’t roadkill when she left. She glanced pointedly at the wall where the door should be. “I’d better go.”
Crimson Wind Page 4
