Hearts of Shadow (Deadglass #2)

by Kira Brady

  He caught Grace’s eyes. She held the Tablet in one hand and her bone knife in the other. Her blue-black hair whipped about her pale, moon face. Her teeth bit bloodless lips. She needed time. The heathwitches hadn’t finished the summoning circle yet. He had given their enemies the perfect weapon. It was his duty to take them out.

  “Order a retreat,” he told Zetian. “All Drekar to the air to cover it. Use the Gas Works. Tear it apart. Buy us time.”

  He grabbed Grace’s shoulders. “Thank you. I’ve seen eternity in your arms. You are my goddess, and if we don’t win today, it won’t be for lack of trying. Take my heart, love. Bring it with you to the next world.” He kissed her. He poured everything he felt into that kiss. He’d lived like there were endless days stretching before him, but now there were no more seconds to think of what he might do.

  Leif Turned. He launched himself from the hill. The battle spun out beneath him. Sunlight glinted off the metal suits, and fire shot from the ground and the sky. Bodies churned in the mud. Dragons soared over the field like Valkyries searching for the souls of heroes. They acknowledged his presence and bowed their long scaly heads. He motioned for them to follow him to the Gas Works, and he ripped off a metal plate. A week ago a foreman had welded it on to complete the tower. Now Leif crushed it beneath his giant claws. His vision might yet spell hope for the city, just not the way he had planned.

  The five dragons followed his lead in dismantling the tower. They dragged heavy metal sheets back to the park entrance and dropped their cargo on the metal suits. Some shuddered, none fell.

  Leif tore up more of his project and pelted the boilers on aptrgangr and suits alike. They smashed the aptrgangr readily enough. The wraith inside escaped to power a new dead body. The suits were harder to kill. It took concerted effort to smash one so that it couldn’t rise again.

  The army of the fallen rose again, against their former brothers, until the tangle of men on the battlefield resembled nothing so much as a bloodbath.

  Leif caught sight of Jameson again. The man’s movements were smooth, but his face held too little emotion as he stepped over the bodies of his soldiers. His gaze held fast to the top of the hill, where Grace waited for Kingu with the Heart and the Tablet.

  Kingu had possessed Jameson.

  It explained much: why Jameson had taken the suits from Leif’s lab right after Kingu had attacked it, why Jameson was now on the wrong side of the fight. And why Jameson was fixated on Grace. She would know. She could carve the runes on his skin and banish Kingu beyond the Gate.

  Finally something was going right. He roared and motioned to the other dragons to avoid Jameson. They couldn’t kill him until Grace banished the wraith. Instead, he found himself protecting Kingu’s host in his long march up the hill.

  The battle line had retreated almost to the sundial. Jameson climbed the hill. Zetian saw him. Something dark flashed in her eyes, and then she stepped in front of Grace. Zetian Turned her hand to claws and cut out his throat.

  Chapter 24

  Stunned, Grace blinked away the splash of blood. Zetian stood in front of her, her hand dripping, her red battle dress shining in the partial afternoon sun. “I had him,” Grace said. The muscles in her arm ached from the effort of holding back. The Tablet shard in her hand burned with the Aether she’d drawn through it. “He was mine to kill.”

  Zetian set her ruby lips in a soft pout. Her ancient eyes were cold. “Little cat, you are not strong enough to take him.”

  “We had a plan—”

  “This?” She laughed softly and swept her hand out to encompass the losing battle. “This is your plan? Resting on the hopes of our enemies and the weak of the flock? You have power, I’ll give you that. The power to turn the Regent’s mind to mush. It is my duty to protect him, and you will be his death.” She stalked forward.

  Grace stepped back off the edge of the hill. The rough surface of the sundial caught on her boot heels.

  Zetian shook her head. “All they see in you is the reflection of Tiamat’s power. You are nothing without it. Norgard made you, but you are nothing more than a shiny plaything.”

  “I trapped the Heart all by myself.”

  “You? Ha. What chance does a pitiful human stand against the Great Dragon Mother? You think a scared teenage girl could have trapped anything? Norgard’s brands and bonds are the only thing keeping that Heart inside you. You are a fancy magicked living cage, nothing more. You have nothing to offer the Regents except a pretty box to stick their Hearts and cocks in. You are nothing—”

  “Stop it!” Grace slid down the hill a little more. Every word Zetian said struck to the heart of her insecurities. A month ago, she would have believed Zetian. But not anymore. “You’re the one betraying Leif—”

  “You’ve been a useful distraction, but no longer. Men are the face of the war, but I pull the strings. You are a danger to the Drekar. You make the Regent think he knows his own mind. His mind belongs to me. His loyalty belongs to dragon kin. Not some weak little human.” Zetian let her pheromones spin out. Cinnamon and iron drenched the air, drowning out the mud and sweat and blood. “Kingu is our future.”

  “Let me show you exactly what this little human can do.” Grace felt her eyes glow silver. The Heart thrummed inside her. She raised her knife and touched the power of the Heart. A lick of blue flame shot out of her skin and across the knife’s edge.

  Zetian’s lips curled out in a long, slow smile. “Little sparrow, you have served your purpose. It is time to dance.” She raised both arms. Instead of hands she had giant, gnarled claws. The skin at her wrists blended to small silver scales.

  In her left hand, Grace gripped the Tablet shard. She was stronger than Tiamat’s Heart, stronger than a goddess. She could beat this dragon harpy with the bad manicure. “You underestimate Leif,” she said. “You underestimate me.”

  Zetian bared her teeth, flashing a row of sharp fangs. She lunged and swiped out with her claws. Grace dodged. She twirled from Zetian’s reach.

  “What do you think Kingu is going to do with you?” Grace asked.

  “We are one of the sacred ten,” Zetian said. “Tiamat’s monster children. We have no fear of her rising from the deep.” She circled the sundial. Her pheromones snaked out and wrapped around Grace’s body. They tickled her nose, heated her core. “We will join with Kingu and raise Tiamat. The time of Dragons is now!”

  Grace used the adrenaline to fuel her movements. She descended into the calm of the fight, the place where everything faded away except her and her opponent. Her concentration sharpened, every bit of her mother’s teaching came into play. Grace and her knife and her dancing feet. The clash of swords and screams of soldiers died out. The blare of horns from the medical tents softened too.

  Zetian lunged, and Grace sidestepped it again. She moved to catch Zetian with her blade, but the Dreki was too fast. Zetian scraped her claws across Grace’s back. Three blades of fire dug furrows in her skin. She had a moment to brace herself before the pain registered in her brain, and then she cried out.

  Zetian wove from side to side, taunting her. “Too weak to be consort to the dragon king. How did you ever survive his coupling?”

  Grace growled. She tightened her fingers around the weapon in each hand, and pulled the Aether through the cuneiform of the Tablet and the runes of her bone knife. It was dangerous with the Heart already awake. She focused on the pain to help her maintain control.

  Clouds condensed, shutting off the determined rays of sun, darkening the sky. Heavy and waterlogged. The first few drops of rain hit her cheek.

  Aether sparkled at the edges of her vision.

  “Baby fighter,” Zetian taunted. “Plaything of the Regent. Brothers share everything, didn’t you know? You were never anything more to Asgard than you were to Norgard. You are a toy. You have outlived your usefulness. I will break you, and take Tiamat’s Heart myself.”

  Grace danced forward and tried to stab the Dreki in the gut. Zetian was faster than an apt
rgangr. She spun out of the way and sliced Grace down the arm. Grace dropped the Tablet.

  “Not even a good fighter,” Zetian said.

  Grace ran at Zetian and pulled Aether through her knife. She slashed the Dreki’s claws and hit. Zetian screamed. Clutching her hand, she retreated a step. One of her knuckles had been severed. The claw dropped to the sundial and landed in a small puddle with a splash.

  Leif caught sight of Zetian and Grace facing off, but Jameson’s body demanded attention. His decapitated head rolled down the hill a few feet and stopped on the flat part of the path that wound around the hill. The corpse shook. White fog coalesced from the severed stump of the neck and rose into the air. It moved slowly, disoriented by Jameson’s sudden demise. Kingu in wraith form would be a lot harder to put down. The Drekar had dismantled all of the suits but two. Aptrgangr converged on the park.

  Without Kingu in possession of Jameson’s body, Grace couldn’t carve the runes. He felt the thin molecules of hope slip through his fingers like sand. Leif needed the Thunderbirds and their thunderbolts to herd the demigod. Shrieking across the hill, Leif called to his Drekar to move the fight to Kingu. Maybe if all of them turned their fire on the white fog they could cause some damage.

  Grace and Zetian fought across the sundial. Rage colored his vision, but he had to trust Grace to hold her own against the Dreki female. Her betrayal would not go unpunished. Revenge was Grace’s to take.

  Leif rushed the fog. The first hit was as bad as he remembered. Pain lit him from the outside in. It reverberated in his head.

  Kingu’s voice echoed in his ears. Join me, brother. We will write your destiny.

  The picture Kingu painted this time was drawn from the pit of Leif’s subconscious desire. Sun shone through wide stained-glass windows in a new, well-stocked lab. Steam rose to a high ceiling from the shining equipment. Every piece he’d lost in the Unraveling was put back together. Completed inventions, every brilliant idea he’d ever envisioned, crowded the long room.

  Three kids worked on a steam-powered bicycle together. They had blue-black hair and almond eyes. Their green irises were slit like a cat’s.

  Leif shook himself from the seductive vision. He breathed fire into the fog. The fog recoiled. Kingu changed the dreamscape. A cyclone broke through the stained-glass windows. The children scattered, screaming, as the machines rose into the wind and smashed against each other. Chaos turned the peaceful scene to grey-black destruction.

  He couldn’t save the children in his mind. The pain of it wrenched his chest. He had to fight to remember that they didn’t exist. It was only a nightmare. Kingu couldn’t touch his kids; they were a figment of his hoped-for future.

  Leif roared and cleared his mind from the numbing fog.

  His dragons charged into the fog and came out screaming. Joramund, his black scales spiked with red, shot fire blindly. Thorsson whipped his double tail and sailed straight into the ground. The impact rained dirt.

  Leif couldn’t let Kingu win. He needed Grace to use the Tablet to hasten Kingu’s date with death.

  The dragons shot fire to keep Kingu from escaping, but they were losing the battle.

  Suddenly a thunderbolt shot through their midst and hit Kingu’s fog with a clap. The heavens reverberated with the sound, clouds shook. The battle paused momentarily. Soldiers chanced a glance up to see the new threat bearing down.

  Two Thunderbirds, an unfamiliar dragon, and a dozen Crow approached over Lake Washington. An Owl and a white Crane led them. Lucia and her Kivati had arrived. Fewer than Corbette had promised, but enough to make a difference.

  Leif let the Thunderbirds take over the attack on Kingu. His wings still burned, his lungs ached. His throat constricted with smoke. Coughing, he Turned on the shore near the medic tent and found Birgitta.

  “The summoning circle is complete,” she said. Blue dye rose to her elbows. The caldron in front of her bubbled. It smelled of apples and the pine of juniper berries. Her white hair stuck to her forehead. Her breathing was labored. “The Wolf has connected with the others. We have activated the circle. Kingu should be trapped inside this perimeter as long as we can hold it. Hurry.”

  “Thank you.”

  She handed him a sprig of mistletoe. “For your lady. A living plant to ward away the dead.”

  He took it and returned to the top of the hill where Grace and Zetian still fought. Zetian had lost claws on her right hand. Grace bled heavily from grooves across her back and down her arm. The Tablet lay discarded in a puddle of bloody water. They were both tiring. Zetian limped. Her scarlet outfit hid the blood, but the wet silk clung to her body at her hip.

  He didn’t want to distract Grace from her task. The glow of the fire and the blue Thunderbolts lit her from behind. He’d never seen beauty so carnal or so otherworldly. Both of this earth and detached, she walked the edge of the Gate and threw her will into the bone knife in her hand. The blade flashed silver.

  Zetian snarled. She clutched her injured right hand.

  Grace could hardly take a breath without pain rushing through her. Tiamat’s Heart thrashed in her ribs. She couldn’t contain all that power. Tiamat’s rage would burn through her while Zetian wore her body down. She fought for control. Her limbs shook.

  “You think you can contain Tiamat’s power?” Grace asked Zetian. “Why don’t you try?”

  Leif appeared on the crest of the hill. The storm over Lake Union and the ruined city brewed behind him. He looked like Thor, blond and brilliant, bringing his devastation down on Midgard. “Stand down, Zetian,” he ordered.

  He was so beautiful, Grace was struck for a long moment, just watching him. In that peace from the fight, she remembered his advice: There is power in giving up control. Power was not in holding herself closed, but in opening herself to the universe. With a long breath, she released the tense muscles in her body. She let go of her fear and stopped trying to fight the Heart.

  Aether poured through her. More than she’d ever felt, more than she could imagine touching without burning to a blinding white. A river of sparkling light touched every cell in her body and shot out the tips of her fingers and toes. She was like a living conduit, open, peaceful, released, and more powerful than one human ever had a right to be. This was the goddess inside, and Tiamat in all her hate was no match for her.

  Zetian’s face turned as red as the silk of her suit. “You!” She tackled Grace. Grace didn’t brace against the impact. She simply let the flow of gravity call her downhill. Locked together, Zetian’s teeth in her shoulder, she released the Aether in waves of blinding light. Zetian screamed in pain, but her claws were locked in Grace’s back. They rolled down the steep slope toward the choppy lake. Grace didn’t fight. She opened herself to the universe, and the Aether whipped around her like a funnel of water. Suddenly the blackberry bushes were on top of her, and they teetered at the edge of the lake. Her bone knife came up, and she hugged Zetian to her, knife firmly imbedded in the Dreki’s back.

  Zetian fell into the water, coughing blood. Grace rolled away from the edge and crawled out from the brambles. Zetian could heal, but Grace had left her knife imbedded deep. She wouldn’t be a threat for a little while.

  In her trancelike state, Grace could almost see the Aether sparkling all around her. Was this what Corbette saw? It was almost like looking through the Deadglass. She could see the ghosts of the fallen rising over the battlefield. In the distance, two wide arches of Aether rose up. The tattered edges wove in a phantom breeze. Through the Gates, the Land of the Dead glowed dimly.

  Not yet, she told them, and turned back to find Leif running down from the crest of the hill. He held the Tablet shard in his hand. He stopped by Grace. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

  She raised her eyebrow. His arm came around her, and she leaned into his embrace. It felt so good to let him hold her up. So good to have someone who would always get her back in a fight. Too good, too seductive to sink into his arms and let the world fade away.

  He gav
e Grace a hot and fast kiss. She poured everything she felt into that kiss, every word she couldn’t say, every shred of emotion she shouldn’t feel. Everything about the kiss said good-bye. She let her lips and her hands and her body spell out those three little words that were all she had left to give.

  Please forgive me.

  Resolution steeled her spine. She broke off. Kingu barreled down on them. In her trance vision, she could see his monstrous form. Behind him, the thunderbolts from the Kivati lit his three heads and giant, membranous wings. He was coming for her. She was ready.

  “Leif,” she said. His beautiful green eyes captured hers. Someday he would understand. Or maybe he already did. He’d been the one to call her pain what it was, survivor’s guilt. She suddenly understood her parents’ sacrifice in a different light. This was love. She wasn’t afraid to die. She knew she’d already had more joy than most people had in a lifetime.

  But she was afraid to leave him, because he couldn’t follow her to the other side of the Gate. This good-bye was forever.

  “I love you.” She grasped his shoulders and brought his head down for one last kiss. He responded with a rough taste of good-bye, tongue and teeth, anger and hopelessness. He wouldn’t give up. Taking the Tablet and the mistletoe from his hand, she pulled back.

  “We just need to drive Kingu to possess another body,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “If all the Drekar and Thunderbirds attack him at once, maybe he’ll panic. He won’t run away. He’s too close to his goal.” Leif drew his hand down the side of her cheek. She closed her eyes at his touch. “You’ll be safe. The runes will keep him from getting to you.”

  “Go. I’ll be here with the Tablet and the Heart. Let’s finish this thing.”

  He squeezed her hand and Turned. She watched one last time as the Aether shimmered through his gorgeous body. His limbs lengthened. His skin morphed into sparkling red scales with green tips. His fingers grew and sharpened to deadly claws. His wings drew out, elegant, ethereal membranes like the shadow of the moon. The dragon rose above her and blocked out the sky. She would take this image with her to her death. Beauty and might, but most of all, love.