Crimson Wind

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “Who is your friend?” Holt asked, studying Max like a snake examining breakfast.

  Alexander snarled, sudden possessive fury making him want to smash the mage’s smug face to a pulp. He clamped his teeth together before he could say something stupid. Max was perfectly capable of taking care of her own business.

  “I don’t really care if I kill you,” Holt told her. “But if you want to get out of here with your skin, go now. You’ve got two seconds.”

  A thin smile curved her lips. “And miss the party? I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t like bullies.”

  “So it’s going to be that way, is it?” The mage pulled a hand out of his pocket. It was covered in a complex pattern of blue hex marks. “Valery, you really need to find a better class of friends.” He held his arm out straight before him, palm up, his fingertips bunched tightly together. Then, without a word, he snapped his hand flat. A ball of silver witchlight streaked through the air, bullet fast.

  Alexander and Max were already in motion. They split apart, leaving Valery standing alone. Alexander knew she could handle a few blasts from Holt, especially since she was right—Holt didn’t want to kill her.

  Alexander launched himself to the side. The heat of Holt’s magic flared across his skin as he landed on his shoulder and rolled to his feet. He never stopped moving as he lunged at the mage, who was humanly slow.

  Holt jerked around to level a blast of magic at Alexander. The Shadowblade ducked under the bolt, flattening to the ground as it crackled through the air above him. His hair and shirt burst into flames. He rolled to his back, but the magical fire did not die. He hardly felt the pain as he flipped onto his feet. He charged the mage, whose hands were outstretched, brilliant white magic swirling around them.

  Before Holt could release his attack, Max dropped from above and smashed him to the ground. The mage went sprawling, the white ball of magic exploding wildly like whirling shards of jagged glass. It slashed Max like the blades of a blender, shredding her clothes and skin. Then the leading edge passed her and ripped into Alexander.

  The hail of magic sliced deep into his left eye, blinding him. More embedded themselves in his chest, stomach, and legs. He doubled over as each fragment struck. Flames still seared his back, and he smelled the stink of burned hair, cloth, and flesh.

  He forced himself upright and staggered toward Max. She glanced at him, her eyes blazing. Was her rage for him?

  She hooked her fingers on something around her waist and pulled it loose. Silver witch chain coiled through the air like a cracked whip. Max knelt down on Holt’s back and slid the chain around his neck, tying it tightly. She kept the end in her hand as she turned to Alexander and wrapped it around him, unmindful of the white flames that licked her arms as she reached behind him.

  As the chain slid around his waist, the flames died. The witch chain smothered witch magic, making witches and their spells impotent. The shards of the exploded spell had already faded to nothing. Alexander sucked a breath through clenched teeth, feeling his flesh cool and his healing spells kick in, even as blood ran out of him like he was a sieve.

  “Thanks.” He looked at her through his one good eye as Max drew back. “You look like hell.”

  The wild magic had cut through her nose, lips, and cheeks. One ear was cut in half. Her entire shirt was drenched in blood.

  “We’re a matched pair,” Max said. “The jokers in the deck. C’mon. We don’t have much time.” She looked past Alexander to Valery. “Get us a room. Fast as you can. Bottom floor near an outside exit, if possible.”

  Valery loped away without a word.

  “Help me with this bastard,” Max told Alexander.

  They hooked him under the arms, dragged him to the rear of the truck, and laid him on the ground. He was unconscious. A purple lump had risen on his forehead, and his nose and lips were bleeding. As Max grappled with the latches on the shell and the tailgate, Alexander scanned the parking lot. No lights had popped on in any of the nearby rooms, and he saw no signs of observers. He looked up, trying to piece together the battle. He frowned. Max had leaped down on top of Holt, but from where? There were no trees or light posts nearby.

  She pulled out her duffel and got the cooler out of the backseat. She set them on the ground and went to dig out the first-aid kit.

  She hit the locking button on the key fob and shut up the rear of the truck before propping herself on the bumper. Now all they had to do was wait for Valery.

  “Nice move, hitting Holt like that. He never saw it coming,” Alexander said, searching the parking lot again to see how she’d done it.

  She looked down at her right hand. She spread her fingers wide and stared at her palm, then rubbed a finger gently across it as if tracing a pattern. “Damned son of a bitch,” she murmured.

  “Who?”

  She looked up at Alexander with a wry expression, then held up her hand. A white hashmark that looked impossibly like a scar crossed her palm. Glowing faintly gold beneath her skin was a feather wisp, like the down from the breast of a swan.

  “What’s that?”

  “A gift. Or a joke. Maybe both. From Tutresiel.”

  “What does it do? Make you fly?”

  She made a face. “More like hang glide. And maybe I can even jump tall buildings in a single bound.”

  “So you are Superwoman. Why am I not surprised?” He reached out and rubbed at a trickle of blood from her cheek with his thumb. It only smeared.

  “I’ll have to look into getting blue long johns and a cape.”

  He looked at her hand again. “You did not have to tell me.”

  She shrugged. “I seem to have a habit of telling you things I don’t mean to. Just don’t say anything to anybody back home. I don’t want them knowing. Not yet.”

  “I will not. I broke the Horngate phone. All I have is my spare,” he said, warmth spreading through him.

  He almost did not feel the pain of his wounds. She had given him her trust. More even than she gave it to Niko or Tyler. It meant she cared for him, whether she knew it or not.

  “What about him?” He nudged the unconcious Holt with his foot.

  “We’ll take him inside. After that? Snap his neck, maybe, and leave him under the bed for the maid to find in a few weeks.”

  She surveyed the parking lot, picking out the security cameras. “A few weeks ago, I’d have been a lot more worried about being seen. But the Guardians are moving. Did you hear about the series of earthquakes in South America and Indonesia? Or the lightning fires in Colorado and Arizona? Or the tornadoes across the South? It’s only a matter of time before they kick their war into high gear, and what people think of us isn’t going to matter.” She looked at Alexander, her brown eyes troubled. “Winters is a small town, but if it’s been attacked magically, then the escalation has already begun. The whole world might be under attack.”

  She did not mention her family, but he could see her worry. He wanted to reassure her, but there was nothing he could say.

  They both heard footsteps at the same time and whirled to see Valery coming around the corner. She jogged to them, glancing over her shoulder at the brightening sky.

  “Room 128 on the end,” she said, flashing the key card. “I fogged the security tapes, too.” Her gaze ran over Max and then Alexander. Her mouth tightened. “You should have let me fight my own damned war,” she said before reaching for the cooler.

  “You’re welcome,” Max said. She looked at Alexander. “She’s unusual, your witch sister. Most of them send us off to do their dirty work for them and never think twice.”

  “I told you she was unique.”

  “Excuse me. I am standing right here,” Valery said, annoyed. “Dawn is coming. Want to speed up a little?”

  Alexander bent and flipped Holt over his shoulder. An itch under his skin told him to hurry. Valery was right. The sun was very close. Max handed him the end of the witch chain before snatching up their duffels and the cooler and followed Valery as she le
d the way to the side entrance. The Caramaras witch keyed open the outer door and then their room.

  Valery had rented a small suite. It contained a kitchenette, a large bathroom, a king-size bed, and a sitting room with an easy chair and a fold-out couch. There were two windows.

  Alexander dumped Holt onto the floor beside the bed and went to help Max with the windows. They shook out the thin silver blankets from Max’s duffel and taped them over the glass with duct tape to seal out the sunlight. Next, Alexander taped over the cracks of the door.

  Max was tugging off her boots and socks. She stood and looked down at herself. Like him, she had stopped bleeding, and her wounds were closing, but more slowly than they should have. His mouth twisted, his teeth grinding together. Scooter had healed her, but her body was still too depleted to suffer such wounds. Guilt knotted in his stomach. He should not have involved her in this.

  “Well, I don’t know about you two, but three near-death experiences in one day is a little over the top, even for me. If this keeps up, I’m going to run out of clothes.”

  “You should have stayed out of it,” Valery said. “Both of you. I could have handled Holt.”

  Max eyed her, rubbing at her ear. It had nearly grown back together. “There’s only one little flaw in your logic.”

  “What’s that?” Valery was tapping her fingers against her thighs, and she kept looking at Holt. It was obvious that she was still in love with him. Whatever had happened to make her divorce him and run for the hills, it was not that she had stopped caring for him.

  “As I see it, Alexander was going to jump in no matter what. Right?” Max asked him.

  He nodded, and Valery made a frustrated noise and shook her head. “Stupid men.”

  Max laughed. “I can’t argue that. But either way, he’s my—”

  She broke off, and Alexander just barely resisted the urge to shake the rest of the sentence out of her.

  “Anyhow, I don’t let one of my Blades walk into trouble by himself,” Max told Valery.

  The witch gave a little nod of understanding. “What do you plan to do with Holt?”

  Max gave her a long look. “I take it you don’t want him dead.”

  Valery flushed. “No.”

  “Then I guess we let him live. You might want to hit the road. He’ll be crawling up your ass the minute he’s freed, and you’ll want a head start.” She unzipped her duffel and started pulling out a change of clothing. Her hands stilled, and she stared a moment, lost in thought. Then she looked at Valery consideringly but said nothing.

  “She needs sleep. At least through today,” Alexander argued when Valery nodded agreement.

  “I’ll be fine,” she snapped.

  “Better if you sleep today and run tomorrow. We can keep him occupied for a day or so to give you a head start.” He glanced at Max for confirmation.

  “Sure,” she said, and Alexander could not read what she might be thinking. “We can do that.”

  The witch licked her lips, and Alexander could see her hands shake with the aftermath of the theft, running from Holt, and the battle. He put his arm around her, and she nestled against him like a kitten.

  “Now that that’s settled and the two of you are getting cozy, I’m going to get cleaned up,” Max said, and gathered her clothing before disappearing inside the bathroom.

  Valery slowly turned to face Alexander. “I think you’ve got a story to tell me. What happened to Selange? Who is Max?”

  “I am not with Selange anymore. And Max is …..” He trailed off, rubbing a hand over his mouth and shaking his head ruefully.

  Her eyes widened. “Holy shit. You haven’t gone and fallen for her, have you? You have! I never thought I’d see the day a miser like you would let loose the heartstrings for anybody. Does she know?”

  “She does not want to know. But I am working on it.”

  Valery smiled, and her glance slipped down to Holt. “At least she isn’t trying to kill you.”

  “Not at the moment. But tomorrow is a whole new day.”

  She smiled. “Big brother, why do we choose such hard-asses to love?”

  “We like a challenge?”

  She yawned. “I think I’m challenged out.” Her glance fell to Holt again, and her expression turned grim. She stepped back. “Do me a favor and put him on the couch for me. I need to check his head wound.”

  “You cannot take the chain off him. He is too dangerous,” Alexander warned.

  She shrugged. “No problem. This chain can’t touch Caramaras magic. It’s meant for elemental witches. Mages are just elementals on steroids.”

  She went to unfold the couch, and Alexander laid the unconscious man down on it. As he did, Holt opened his eyes. Alexander wondered how long he had been awake listening. The mage lifted a hand and touched the witch chain around his neck.

  “Why am I still alive?”

  “If it was up to me, you would be dead.”

  Holt turned his head, searching the room before riveting on Valery. He scowled. “What are you still doing here? I’d have thought you’d be halfway to Timbuktu by now.”

  “There’s no need to hurry. You’re looking a little toothless right now.”

  His jaw knotted. “You can’t keep me tied up forever.”

  “Sure we can,” Alexander said cheerfully. “We can bury you in the chain and let you rot for all eternity.”

  Holt glared up at him, missing the way Valery flinched at the words.

  “One of these days, I’m going to make you regret interfering in my business.”

  “But Valery is my business. She is family.”

  “Maybe a thousand years ago, you had a common ancestor,” Holt scoffed. “That doesn’t make you family.”

  “I disagree. No matter how far back, we are blood, and you—” Alexander ran a hard finger over Holt’s collarbone, where the marks of his marriage to Valery had once been. “You are an arrogant bastard. You never deserved her.”

  The expression in Holt’s eyes was murderous. He flung himself upward and punched Alexander in the jaw. Alexander shoved him back down.

  “Did I touch a nerve?”

  “I swear I will kill you,” Holt seethed through clenched teeth.

  “You can try. But I am not the one with a chain around my neck.”

  With that, Alexander taped up the mage’s hands and feet. Valery watched without a word.

  Alexander glanced at her. “You are sure this is what you want?”

  “I don’t want to be responsible for killing him.”

  “He doesn’t seem to mind if he kills you.”

  “Valery knows me better than that,” Holt growled. “Don’t you?”

  She shook her head. “I know you’ll do anything to get your property back. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.” She stood and folded her arms over her chest, pacing away as far as the small room would allow.

  “You’re wrong,” Holt said.

  “Am I?” she asked without turning around. “Then stop chasing me, and leave me alone.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “Because you want the Nur-dagan tablets back.”

  “It’s not that simple. You know that.”

  “I know better than to ever trust you again.”

  “Enough,” Max said, coming out of the bathroom and tossing her ruined clothes in a pile behind the door. “The divorce is final. You can stop arguing any time now.”

  She yawned, reached into the cooler, and pulled out another sandwich and a bottle of Mountain Dew before sitting cross-legged on the bed. The slashes on her face were pink and fading, and her blond hair was slicked tight to her head.

  Alexander fished a change of clothes out of his bag and went into the bathroom to shower. It was still full of steam. He set his weapons next to the sink and stripped off the remains of his shirt and pants. He pulled out his cell phone and was about to toss the ruined jeans on the floor when he remembered the amulet.

  He drew it out. The back of it was a
disk made of smooth gold almost the size of his palm. At the center was a round black diamond larger than a quarter. Set in a circle around it were a series of orange opals. Arrows pointing outward toward the edge were interspersed between like the rays of a sun. Around the rim was inscribed a series of archaic words in a language Alexander did not recognize. They were not traditional Egyptian hieroglyphics. The words spiraled around the back to the center to end at a small eye.

  He ran his fingers over it. The metal was warm from his pocket. He sniffed it. It smelled of Divine magic. He turned it over in his fingers and then set it down beside his belongings on the counter. It could allow him to walk in the daytime again. Of course, the only way to test it was to try it, which could mean death if it did not work. Just at the moment, he did not care to die, not with Max thawing out as she seemed to be. Or maybe she was just too tired to know what she was doing.

  He groaned his frustration and finished undressing before stepping into the shower. He had wanted time alone with her, and now they were stuck with Valery for the night and Holt for at least another day, if not longer. He reached for the soap.

  He was nearly done when he felt Max’s Shadowblade rising. It rolled through the walls like a tide of boiling tar. He shoved the spigot off and pulled his pants on without bothering to dry off.

  He pushed open the bathroom door and lunged out into the room. He stopped short. Max was standing at the foot of the bed, staring at the TV. Her mouth was rimmed white, and her body shook.

  “What’s going on?” he demanded, searching the room. Holt remained bound, and Valery stood near the wall, smoky magic wreathing her arms. His attention returned to Max. “What is it?”

  She began to shake and sway. Alexander caught her around the waist as her eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped.

  “Max!”

  He laid her down on the bed. Her skin was gray and cold, and the presence of her Shadowblade snuffed out like a candle. Everything inside him seized tight. He reached out to grab her shoulders and stopped himself, instead smoothing his fingers over her forehead. “Valery? What is wrong with her?”

  Valery knelt next to Max and held her hands above the prone woman. She closed her eyes as the smoke wreathing her fingers turned silver-green and drifted down over Max. Soon magic cocooned her in a gauzy shell.