Crimson Wind

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Max swallowed the rock that had risen in her throat. Of course. They didn’t have many vehicles to spare, and her Tahoe had been blown up. It made sense to use Akemi’s truck. Akemi wasn’t going to need it. She’d been killed in the battle with the angels. Still, it hurt. Max had hardly had a chance to grieve for the men and women who’d died. She hadn’t wanted to think about it and had instead focused all her attention on rebuilding the covenstead and fighting off Scooter’s dream attacks. Now she was going to be wrapped in Akemi’s scent.

  She strode forward, keeping the emotion from her face. She eyed Alexander. He didn’t look nearly as bad as Niko and Tyler. The bruises on his face were healing quickly, and his cuts were fading to pink. Soon they’d vanish. She met his eyes. He was staring back at her with a hooded gaze. Her mouth tightened. This was going to be a fun trip.

  “Time to get on the road.” She held out her hand for the keys.

  He shook his head. “I am driving. You can sleep, since word is you have not been doing a lot of that lately.”

  There was accusation in his voice that made her want to punch him. It wasn’t his business. She didn’t need a nanny.

  She scraped her teeth over her lower lip, wondering if it was worth the time or energy to take him down a peg. She glanced at Tyler and Niko, who both looked ready to back him up against any protests she might make. Apparently, they were not so much against Alexander that they wouldn’t join forces against her.

  Not being stupid, Max chose not to argue. “Sounds good,” she said, and went around to the passenger door and climbed in.

  Niko and Tyler followed her.

  “Do you think she’s sick or something?” Tyler asked Niko. “Or maybe someone has taken possession of her body? I’ve never seen our Max agree to anything that quick, except maybe food.”

  Niko frowned and examined Max’s face closely. He leaned through the window and lightly tapped a knuckle against her forehead. “Can you prove you’re Max?”

  “Step away from the truck, or I’ll cut your balls off and roast ’em on a stick.”

  Niko glanced at Tyler. “Sounds like her.”

  “I don’t know. Usually she’s more creative. Roasting them on a stick? Very cliché.”

  They both looked expectantly at Max. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll cut them off and make earrings out of them. I might even let you wear them sometimes. Once we drill holes in your pretty little ears.”

  “Still pretty weak,” Tyler said doubtfully.

  “Very.”

  Max looked at Alexander. “Can we go now?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute. He turned the engine over and put the truck in reverse.

  Max looked at Niko and Tyler. “Try to keep everyone alive while I’m gone.”

  “Aw, Mom, do we have to?” Tyler asked. “I was planning a trip to Vegas by way of the Bahamas.”

  “Remind me to kick your ass when I get back.”

  “Make sure you make it back,” he said, the humor fading from his expression, “and I will.”

  “With you two waiting for me, why would I ever want to stay away?”

  “Hey, I have good idea. Just for something new, why don’t you mix it up a little and try not to be too stupid on this trip?” Niko said.

  “Stupid? I thought I was audacious and brave, spunky even.”

  “Spunky?” Tyler repeated. “Audacious and brave I can buy. But spunky? That’s like calling Godzilla a little bit accident-prone.”

  Max shrugged. “Poor Godzilla—she gets such a bad rap. Tell you what, I’ll only be as brave and audacious as I have to be,” she said, and she waved as Alexander drove away.

  She sat back in her seat, listening to the sounds of the night through the open window. The smell of Akemi rose up around her, undispelled by the night air blowing through the window. It was a musky, sweet scent, like oolong tea and beeswax. There was a hint of pepper to it, too, and a tang of old sweat.

  Max swallowed the sudden knot in her throat and stared out the window, trying to ignore the memories of her dead friend and her fears for her family.

  They wound through mountains on the nameless dirt road that led away from covenstead. A short distance from Lolo Creek Road, they drove under the arch of antlers that marked the entrance of Horngate. Max’s attention snagged on a gleam of metal up high on the rimrock. Tutresiel perched barefoot on top of a thin finger of basalt. The top couldn’t have been more than a few inches square. He crouched there with preternatural stillness, his wings furled around him, his elbows resting on his knees.

  Suddenly he leaped up into the air and dove down at the truck. He swooped past her window, his wings flared and silent. The sweet and caustic scent of Divine magic washed through the cab as he winged upward and disappeared over the ridge.

  “What the hell?” Alexander said, slamming on the brakes and glaring after the angel.

  “I don’t know,” Max said, but in the palm of her hand was a tiny curled feather, an inch long and a half-inch wide. It was made of silver, and she had no doubt it had been plucked from his wings. Her fingers closed around it. The edges were sharp, and she loosened her grip as it cut into her skin. A flash of cold seared her palm, and she snapped her fingers open.

  The feather was gone, and where it had cut, a scar remained. She rubbed the thin white slice in astonishment. She was a Shadowblade—she didn’t scar. She didn’t take tattoos, and her ears wouldn’t hold a piercing. And yet ….. Beneath the scar, she felt a rigidness. She flexed her hand. There was no restriction in her movement and no pain. Still, she was certain the feather had sunk inside.

  Her hand curled into a fist. It was the second time in the last few hours that someone had given her a gift. She knew Scooter’s came with strings. What the hell had Tutresiel given her? And just when was the surprise going to jump out of the closet and clobber her over the head?

  She sighed, tilting her head back against the seat.

  “You okay?”

  She looked at Alexander. “Don’t I look it?” Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be, but she was on edge. He put her on edge.

  He faced back to the road, his expression granite. “You have been looking a bit like the walking dead lately. Though you appear to have made a remarkable recovery today.”

  “Thanks to Scooter.”

  “Scooter,” he repeated, his lip curling with distaste.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her instant response was no. But it melted to ash on the tip of her tongue. They were going to be stuck together for the next few days. Might as well try to get along. Telling him about Scooter might ease the tension between them. Or piss him off more. But what the hell? The truth was, as much as she’d kept Alexander at arm’s length the last four weeks, he was the one she wanted to talk to. In fact, she wanted to do a lot with him, and most of it was a really bad idea. But talking—that much was safe enough.

  “He’s been pretty irritated that I haven’t come to see him. So a few weeks ago, he started trying to drag me off whenever I went to sleep. It was killing me, so this morning I decided I’d better put a stop to it, and I went to see him.”

  He turned his head to look at her, his brows raised. “You remember who I am, right? You have not wanted to share the same air for weeks, much less talk to me.”

  “A girl can change her mind. Besides, who else is there?”

  “You like your secrets. Why talk to anyone at all?”

  She growled low in her throat, a sound of aggravation. “Whatever blows your dress up, Slick. You asked, I said yes. No one’s twisting your arm.” She reached out and turned on the radio.

  He flicked it off. “Tell me.”

  Irritation scraped at her. She yawned exaggeratedly. “Maybe I should sleep like you said.”

  He reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently. “Tell me.”

  She looked at his hand on hers. His touch sent a jolt through every one of her
nerves. She ought to pull away, but she didn’t want to. Stupid.

  She remembered his threat—or had it been a promise? If she didn’t choose him, he’d leave. She didn’t want him to go. Neither could she imagine starting up a relationship with him or anyone else. A shiver pimpled her skin with goose bumps as her body clenched at the thought. Never. She didn’t want to care that much for anyone. It was too ….. dangerous.

  But Alexander would leave.

  Her mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as hurt drove through her like a spear. The wound felt gaping and raw. She closed her lips and stared blindly out the window. Was it too late? No. Even if she had developed real feelings for him, they hadn’t had time to take root. She could dig them out. With a chain saw, if she had to. So that if he did leave, she wouldn’t care.

  But she did. Her Prime rose, borne on the raw emotions of her dread for her family’s fate and the thought of losing Alexander.

  His hand tightened. “Max?”

  His voice was almost guttural. It sent a tremor through her. His Prime had risen with hers, wild and primitive. She looked at him. He bent toward her. His expression was taut and his eyes were molten. Her eyes widened. He wasn’t afraid. But then, why would he be? He was as scary as she was. Instead, he was turned on. So was she. She dug her fingers hard into her thigh, touching the tip of her tongue to her lips. His gaze jerked and narrowed on the movement.

  Then abruptly he pulled his hand away and drew a sharp breath. He clamped his hands on the steering wheel. “Not that way,” he rasped.

  “Sure, Slick,” Max said, hiding her disappointment. She felt like he’d tossed a bucket of ice water on her head. The predator inside her snarled in frustrated fury, but it was no longer in danger of overwhelming her human reason. “I can always find a bed buddy for a night.”

  He jerked the wheel, skidding to a halt on the side of the road. His hand whipped out. He snatched her arm and yanked her halfway over the console, his face twisting. “Do not dare,” he said between gritted teeth. “When you decide to come to me, you will do it because you want me as much as I want you, not because your Blade took possession of you.”

  He thrust her back as suddenly as he’d grabbed her.

  Max grinned. “Wow, you can’t make up your mind, can you? Must take you hours to pick out something to wear every night.”

  He goggled at her and then gave a short laugh as he once again grasped the steering wheel, like he didn’t quite trust what he might do with his hands if they didn’t have something else to do. “You are a …..” He searched for words. “Remarkable woman.”

  “I’m pretty sure you mean raging bitch.”

  “That too.”

  “Not to mention pain in the ass.”

  “Of course. That goes without saying.”

  “At least I’m not boring.”

  “Oh, no. Never that,” he agreed, rubbing a tense hand over his mouth.

  She couldn’t resist poking at him. It was fun seeing him off-balance for once. “I’m beginning to wonder about you, Slick. You ever think about seeing a shrink?”

  He slanted a look at her. “Maybe I know something special when I find it.”

  Max snorted. “Special? Like the bearded lady at the freak show?”

  “I was thinking something more along the lines of a pirate treasure. Of course, it is buried under a mound of fire ants at the bottom of an active volcano and guarded by dragons, but a treasure nonetheless.”

  “Tell the truth—you’re on drugs.” But despite herself, Max was hanging on every word like a pimple-faced fifteen-year-old girl drooling over the captain of the football team.

  “I would like to know something, if you will tell me,” he said, turning to face her, his mood shifting suddenly.

  “What’s that?” she said cautiously. He wasn’t off-balance anymore.

  “You are attracted to me. You do not deny that.” He waited.

  She nodded reluctantly. It was pretty pointless to lie.

  He made a frustrated gesture. “Then why?”

  Max went still. Why not tell him? There wasn’t much point in secrecy. Maybe he would back off if he knew. “Giselle.”

  His brow furrowed. “Giselle? She does not want us to be together?”

  Be together. What exactly did he think could happen? Marriage and a baby carriage? “No. She couldn’t care less. Right up until the point where she decided that she could use you to force me to do something I don’t want to. You’d be a hostage.”

  “I thought the two of you came to terms. You are working together.”

  “For now. Until we butt heads, and then we’ll be back at it. If she didn’t think she’d need to push me around now and again, she’d have freed me.”

  “So instead of living your life, you live like a militant nun.”

  “Something like that,” she said, resenting the accusation in his voice. “Except I do find some time to have a romp in the hay.”

  He gave a silent snarl, but didn’t respond to that, staying focused on the subject at hand. “And if she chooses Niko? Or Tyler? She has plenty of hostages against your good behavior. She has for years. What makes me different?”

  He was too smart for her own good. She knew it wasn’t logical. But she was terrified of what would happen if she let Giselle get ahold of someone she really cared about. And she could care about Alexander. She already did.

  “What about your family?” he pressed when she remained silent. “You are bringing them here. Will she not use them?”

  “I’d kill her,” Max said. “No matter what it took.” Pain flared around her in a spinning tornado of razor wire as her compulsion spells reacted to her threat. She thrashed and clenched herself, letting the pain take her. She would never give in on this one.

  Alexander grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. Her head snapped back. “Max! Giselle is not here; she is not threatening your family. Let it go before you kill yourself.”

  His words permeated the haze of pain slowly. She forced herself to relax. He was right. More importantly, she still had to rescue her family, and killing herself wasn’t going to help a whole lot.

  The magic receded, feeling like it was peeling away her flesh as it went. She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, feeling her heart slowing back to normal. Alexander’s hands fell away.

  “The truth is, she has plenty of hostages to hold against you already, and you are about to give her more,” he said. “You cannot hide behind that excuse.”

  Max stared out the bug-speckled windshield. He was right. She had no good excuses. “The last time I dated anyone was in 1980.”

  When she didn’t say anything more, he prodded, “And?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “He was cheating on me. Right after we broke up, my best friend in the world turned me into a Shadowblade. I may have some trust issues.”

  He was silent for a long minute. “I can work with that,” he said finally, putting the truck in drive and pulling back out onto the road.

  She looked at Alexander. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

  “I am. You admit you want me and that you do not have any good reasons not to be with me. It is only a matter of time.” His eyes laughed at her, daring her to deny him.

  Max’s stomach curled in anticipation. She ruthlessly crushed it. “You forgot something.”

  “Oh? What is that?”

  “I am already spoken for. Giselle gave me to Scooter.”

  He was silent a long moment, negotiating the sinuous mountain curves, the truck’s wheels squealing as he swerved around them.

  “Tell me about Scooter,” he said finally, the words pushed through gritted teeth. “What did you mean when you said he tried to drag you off while you were sleeping?”

  Max eyed him sideways, feeling reluctant to begin again. Instead, she changed the subject.

  “So you know you don’t use contractions, right? Like isn’t or wasn’t or can’t. You know it makes you sound pretentious and arrogant, like you’
ve got a stick stuck up your ass?”

  He stared, then shook his head. “I was not aware that my speech was so ….. stiff.”

  “There you go again. ‘Was not aware.’ Couldn’t you say, ‘I wasn’t aware’? ‘I didn’t know’?”

  “I expect I could.”

  “Then why don’t you, already? Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

  “In my younger years, my mother impressed upon me the need for proper speech.”

  “And that’s proper?”

  “According to my mother.”

  Max’s lips pinched together. Saying any more would be an insult to his mother, and she had a feeling that would be crossing a line. Not that she minded crossing lines, but families were off-limits.

  “So are you going to tell me about Scooter? What did he do to your arm?” he asked, not letting her off the hook.

  She tightened her hand into a fist, feeling the cool heaviness of the spell along her arm. “How did you know?”

  “I am not blind. You have been favoring it since you came out of the vault. What happened?”

  She considered putting him off again, but he was likely to drive off a cliff. Or try to throttle her. Besides, he needed to know. Then he would give up on her. Why did that make her want to vomit?

  She swallowed. “Scooter’s been a little irritated with me. I kept putting off going to see him, so he started coming to me while I was sleeping. At first, he just kept me from resting. I kept waking up. After a while, when I still didn’t go down to see him, he decided he wasn’t going to wait anymore.” She rubbed her forehead between her eyes, remembering the first of his visits. “He’d come into my dreams and push at me to go somewhere with him—on an astral level, not physical. It wasn’t so bad at the beginning. He was gentle, if demanding. But when I still didn’t come to him, he started attacking—trying to drag me off. It got to be that I would put off sleeping as long as I could, but it didn’t matter. He was always waiting. Fighting him got harder and harder.”

  “That is—” Alexander caught himself. “That’s why you started looking like death warmed over.”

  “Did I? I thought I was fashionably corpselike. I could have been on the cover of Vogue.”