Niko put a hand over his heart. “You hurt me. I am simply adorable, and they can’t resist me.”
“Adorable as a black widow spider, maybe.”
“Compared to Max, I’m a kitten. I almost feel sorry for you.”
Alexander grimaced. “Me too. But I would not bet against me. I mean to win.”
“She beat you once already,” Tyler pointed out. “That’s how you got here in the first place.”
Alexander glared over his shoulder. “I remember. But this time, I am more motivated. She is the prize, after all.”
“She is at that,” Niko said. He stopped and held out a battered hand. “I’ll wish you luck. You’ll need it.”
Alexander stared a moment, then grasped the proffered hand. “Imagine that. Miracles do happen,” he murmured.
“So I’ve heard. Like angels serving a witch. Or a Prime deciding he doesn’t want to be that anymore.”
“Do not make that mistake. I am a Prime, and I always will be. It was stupid to pretend otherwise. But Max is Horngate’s Prime, and I do not plan to try to change that. Just as when you and Tyler rise to Prime, you will not try for it. Or am I wrong?”
Niko drew back with a frown and then nodded. “Nope. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“She’s our Prime. End of story,” Tyler said flatly.
“Then we understand each other at last.”
“Yeah. I guess we do,” said Niko.
“I would take it as a personal favor if you would enlighten the others while I am gone. I would rather come back to friends than enemies.” If he came back.
“We’ll make it happen. Just take care of our girl.”
“All that I can get away with before she kills me,” Alexander agreed.
Niko grinned. “I don’t envy you. She’s been in a foul mood.”
“And I make it worse. I can hardly wait.”
He turned up the corridor to his apartment. He ached from where their punches and kicks had landed. They’d broken his ribs in at least three places, and he was pretty certain that his right shin was cracked as well. He went into his bathroom, rinsing the dried blood from his face. Niko had broken his nose, and there were swiftly closing cuts on his forehead and along his cheeks. Bruises splotched his lower back, chest, and arms. He’d be mostly right in a few hours, but their wounds were more severe and would take longer to heal. Satisfaction made him grin.
It faded abruptly as he recalled Max’s family. He squatted down and opened the undersink cupboard. Reaching back under the bowl, he felt for the hole where the pipe ran back out of the cabinet. He reached behind and hooked a string that was attached to the pipe and carefully fished out the phone tied to the end in a crude net. He unfastened the phone and dropped the string in the wastebasket. If anyone searched his apartment while he was in California, they wouldn’t find anything damning.
He turned the phone on and saw that there were two dozen text messages and one voice message. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Most of the messages were from his network of contacts in the magic world. They were the reason he had bought this phone and kept it hidden. They were too valuable to lose, but he knew that Max and Giselle would think it too risky for him to keep a phone number he had had when he was with Selange. Or they would think he was still working for her. Either way, if they found the phone on him, he was dead.
He punched in a number. It rang three times, then went to voice mail. “It is Alexander,” he said. “I am looking for information on magic activity in Winters, California. I need all you can tell me as soon as you can. Send a text.”
He pressed the End button and glanced again at the messages. They could wait. He dialed his voice mailbox and punched in his password. There was only one message. Valery. He stiffened, his breath catching in his chest. Magpie was right. The only reason for Valery to call was that she had found the Amengohr amulet.
The rich tones of her voice filled his ears and rolled through his body like a caress. “Alexander, my sweet. I have found it at last. Do not take too long to call me back. It will not remain where it is for long.”
He replayed the message. She really had found it. Alexander reeled. He had never believed she really could. Not even after Magpie’s prediction. And now—
He stared unseeing at the wall. What did he do now?
The amulet could give him the power he needed to keep Max safe. But he did not have time to go get it. And even if he did, Giselle had seen her die.
Once again, violent emotion crashed over him. He shuddered as it swept him up. He was drowning. He was burning up. He was falling off a cliff. He dragged his fingers through his hair, sucking in a painful breath as he fought for calm. Ever since Magpie’s visit, he’d been thinking of how he could keep Max safe, although the chance of her dying had hardly registered. He could not really wrap his mind around it. She was too vibrant, too smart, and too strong.
Giselle had seen her die.
You will be Prime.
The two ideas collided in his head like two semi trucks. Giselle was not sure that her vision was true. It could not be true. But then how else did he become Prime?
Alexander stood mechanically, setting the phone down carefully on the counter. It was all he could do not to let his Blade go on a rampage. But he needed to stay in control. He needed to think. He drew a long, slow breath.
Giselle’s vision might not be fixed. So he could change the outcome. He brought his battered fist down hard on the countertop. Cracks webbed across it. He would change it. He was not going to lose her, not now, when he had just realized how badly he wanted her. Needed her.
Abruptly, he stripped away his bloody pants and underwear. Every muscle in his body was clenched tight. He was not ready to feel this way. It was stupid. It was insane. And yet he wanted Max like he had never wanted another woman in his life. He grimaced at himself in the mirror. Of all the women to choose—she was thorny, foul-mouthed, reckless, and as hard as tempered steel.
And just thinking of her made him ache with want. Damn.
He stepped into the shower and washed the blood from his skin, then stepped out, dried himself, and dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black turtleneck he pulled from the wreckage of his dresser. He found his duffel in the closet and stuffed spare clothing into it, followed by his emergency kit, which included a light-sealing tent, a box of power bars, a healing salve, two spare combat knives, a .45, a .9mm, a dozen full magazines of both shot shells and regular bullets for each gun, two window- and door-sealing kits, two quarts of orange Gatorade, and a set of bandages.
He looked around the room. He owned next to nothing. He had left everything at Aulne Rouge, his former covenstead. All he had now were the clothes he had bought and the phone that he had tossed on the bed. He stared at it.
I have found it at last….. . It will not remain where it is for long.
He picked up the phone, turning it in his fingers as he considered.
Valery was a Caramaras smoke witch and a thief. She had broken into a Beltane witch gathering near Big Bear, California. Valery had managed to get inside safely enough but had tripped the wards on the way out. She had been wounded, and Alexander had been the one to find her hiding in a bathroom.
There had been instant recognition. That they were both of Caramaras blood was written on both their faces. They had the same dark hair and skin, the same sculpted jaws and cheekbones. Valery could have been his sister. That, more than anything else, made Alexander take her to his room and later sneak her out to freedom.
They had become friends. She was determined to repay her debt to him, and the Caramaras people were not so many that she was willing to lose touch. By her accounting, they were blood kin. He did not remember telling her about the Amengohr amulet, but it had become her mission to find it for him.
He would have the ability to walk in the daylight. A thought struck him. With the amulet, he could pass for an ordinary human. He would not need a covenstead. He would have freedom. Freed
om to court Max—after all, he would no longer be of her covenstead. She could not refuse him on that basis.
The thought brought little comfort. He did not want to leave, and even if he did, he could not watch her back if he was not here. He wanted her and Horngate both. He would be damned if anyone kept him from getting what he wanted.
He retreated to the bathroom, turned the faucet on to mask his voice, and punched the speed dial for Valery. She answered on the third ring.
“I’ve been waiting for you, sweetness. Where have you been? I called days ago.” Her voice was husky and quiet, as if she had been asleep.
“Long story. I am no longer with Selange.”
His terse announcement was met with silence. Then, “Sounds like an interesting story. I’d like to hear it.”
“Not now. Can you still get the amulet?”
“I am leaving with it right now, sweetness, so we’d better keep this short.”
Alexander choked back a laugh. Only Valery would answer her phone in the middle of a job. “Where are you?”
“Near Seattle. But I’ll be moving along fast. Holt’s not far behind.” A grim tone sharpened the edge of her voice.
“He has not given up?”
“He never will. Not until he gets what he wants. Too bad it isn’t me.” Bitterness filled the words. “But I don’t want to catch you up in this. He’ll kill you.”
Alexander’s lip curled. Holt was a mage, which made him very powerful, but he was not invulnerable. Valery had been running from the bastard for more than three years now, and the chase was wearing on her. She needed a chance to rest. “Head for Portland. I should be there tomorrow. I will call and tell you where.”
“I’ll be there.” She hesitated. “Is everything all right with you? You sound tense.”
“Things are ….. complicated. But I am working on it. See you in Portland.”
He hung up, not wanting to distract her any further from making her escape. She was a free spirit—wild and reckless, with a joy about her that reminded him of eagles playing on the wind. She took risks that curdled his blood, for no better reason than to experience the thrills that came with them. She played her cards all in, never holding anything back. But she was a witch, and her powers were substantial. He did not worry about her as he did Max.
Max never held back, either, but she only had Shadowblade magic to protect her. She was also more inclined to go running into battle with powerful creatures than Valery was.
He turned off the faucet just as a knock sounded at the outer door. It was Thor.
He leaned in the doorway, wearing the same flannel shirt and threadbare Levi’s as earlier, but he’d put on a pair of scuffed cowboy boots, and his .454 Super Red-hawk hung on his hip, tied down like he’d stepped off the streets of the Old West. On the other hip was a combat knife.
“What the hell happened to you?” Thor demanded, straightening as he took in Alexander’s injuries. His eyes went flat and cold, and the air around him seemed to drop twenty degrees.
Alexander smiled thinly. “I had words with Niko and Tyler.”
“Who won?”
“You have to ask?”
Thor’s shoulder rose in a half-shrug, his temper mellowing. “Not really. But they are not easy opponents. So what did they want to talk about?”
“They wanted me to swear an oath that I would protect Max.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No.” Alexander grimaced, feeling hollow inside. “I would do it, do you know that? If I was bound to Horngate, I would swear it and never think twice. But if I have to walk away from this place, I cannot carry that burden with me.”
“You’d walk away?” Thor’s brows rose. “Old man, I thought you were in this for the long haul.”
“I am not sure I have a choice. If Giselle will not bind me, what can I do? Sooner or later, they will chase me off or kill me.”
He thrust to his feet and paced, violence filling him. Thor eyed him warily from beneath his brows, his head lowered in a stance of submission.
“Max wants to see you,” Thor said.
“Good for her,” Alexander said, although his blood pounded. “She knows where to find me.”
“You want me to tell her that?”
Alexander hesitated only an instant. “Yeah. Tell her exactly that.”
“You know that’s just going to piss her off?”
“I am counting on it.” Because she would want to tear him a new one in person, and at least he would get the chance to talk to her face-to-face.
“Going to make for a fun trip to California.”
“Just like wresting porcupines.”
Thor grinned and shook his head, then started to turn away and stopped. He looked at Alexander. “Her family is still living. How long has she been a Blade?”
“Thirty years.”
Thor’s mouth fell open. “I’m older than she is. How can she be so ….. Prime ….. after just thirty years? That’s—” He shook his head. “I figured her to be as old as you, at least.” He whistled. “I’m surprised Giselle is letting her go. Family ties? Selange wouldn’t have tolerated anything or anybody that might have divided our loyalties.”
Alexander knew that very well. It was why he had obtained and hidden a secret phone. “Giselle is not exactly an ordinary witch, any more than Max is an ordinary Prime. Besides, I am not certain Max would stomach that sort of coercion.”
“Most of us don’t have a choice.”
“Most of us would not die to make a point. Giselle wants her alive more than she wants to win this particular argument.” Giselle had seen Max die. No. He would prevent it.
“And yet you’re blowing off Max when she’s asking to see you. Seems like maybe she isn’t the only one willing to be suicidal to make a point.”
Alexander shrugged. “It is a point worth making.”
“Your funeral. I’ll go tell her. Do me favor, though, save me a front-row seat for when she breaks your legs and yanks your lungs out your ass.”
“I have no intention of being her punching bag. I am done with that.”
Thor frowned, giving Alexander a long look. “You aren’t planning anything stupid, are you?”
“Depends on how you define stupid.”
The other man shook his head. “I can’t have your back. I gave myself to Horngate.”
“I can take care of myself.”
Thor shook his head. “Not if Max turns us loose on you. We’ll kill you for sure.”
“Then it was good knowing you.”
“You don’t think she’ll do it?”
Alexander’s mouth quirked. “I think ….. I think I will find out very soon.”
Chapter 6
MAX WAS STUFFED. SHE’D EATEN EVERYTHING magpie had put in front of her. Tutresiel perched on the back of a chair opposite her. She had no idea where Niko and Tyler had made off to, and Giselle had refused to say anything about what she and Alexander had been discussing.
“I made a circle of silence for a reason. I don’t actually want you to know what we talked about,” the witch-bitch had explained slowly, as if Max were a three-year-old child. Then she had gone off with Xaphan.
Max scowled down at her plate.
“Eventful morning,” Tutresiel observed, watching her.
She made a face. “Too damned many secrets around here.”
“Too much truth can be unsettling.”
Her brows arched. “Is that so? Personally, I’d rather have more than less.”
“You didn’t tell anyone but me that you were going to see Scooter. Or that he has been attacking you in the night. Why not begin with sharing your own truths?”
“What are you, a lawyer? Jiminy Cricket? Or maybe one of those good angels who sit on your shoulder and talk you into behaving properly?”
He smiled. Damn. It made him go from austerely beautiful to downright touchably gorgeous. Were those dimples? Max swallowed.
“I would never talk anyone into proper beh
avior. And I’m just pointing out the obvious: you like secrets just fine—as long as you are in on them.”
She couldn’t disagree there. “All right. So there are too many secrets being kept from me. Satisfied?”
“Truth stings, doesn’t it?”
“Bite me.”
His gaze ran over her. “You don’t look quite so much like a corpse anymore. I might be talked into it.”
A shiver ran through Max, and she stretched like a cat. “Kitten, don’t tempt me. I haven’t been laid in months.”
“Months?” He shook his head. “Pitiful. Maybe I should fuck you for first aid.”
Heat swept through Max. The offer was tempting. If she screwed him, would that make her forget Alexander? Somehow, she doubted it. She sighed. “Sorry, kitten. I’ve got business to take care of. Maybe next time.”
“Your loss.”
“Cocky bastard, aren’t you?”
“You wanted truth. I’m telling it straight.”
She snorted.
He sobered. “One more thing. I will not let anything happen here while you are away. I promise.” As he said the last two words, a coruscating ring of silver light pulsed outward, rolling through her. The walls glowed for a second, and then the magic swept away through the mountain.
Max stared. For any magical creature to make a promise was a momentous thing. It carried the weight of magic, and it made the person vulnerable. Promises were the strongest chains, because they were self-imposed. Tutresiel hated being enslaved to Giselle or anyone else. For him to bind himself willingly was a gift beyond measure and wholly unexpected.
“Are you sure?” Stupid question. The deed was done and he knew very well what it meant. “Why?”
He lifted his shoulder in a shrug, his face shuttering. “I told you. I like you more than I thought. You should have a place to bring your family back to.”
“They might be dead.” She forced the words out. He was right. The truth sucked sometimes.
He stepped down from his perch. “They might be alive. Do come back. I would not like to be stuck with that promise forever.”
“Sounds like buyer’s remorse. Maybe you should have thought it through harder.”
Crimson Wind Page 8
