Magic Bleeds kd-4 Page 28

  “So you’re just going to quit?”

  “Probably. I can’t compromise on this and I can’t fight the entire Order. It’s a losing battle. Some losing battles are worth fighting anyway, but this isn’t one of them. Beating my head against this wall is a waste of time and effort. I can’t alter the Order, but I can make sure it no longer benefits from my services.”

  Grendel dashed into the room, hurled himself past me and into the corner. A ragged snarl ripped from his mouth. He bit the air, barked once, and froze on rigid feet.

  Something was scaring him half to death. I grabbed Slayer. Both of Andrea’s hands had SIG-Sauers in them.

  A loud boom rang through the building, resonating through my head. Someone had just tested the strength of the Order’s ward.

  “What the hell?” Andrea sprinted into the hallway.

  I cleared the distance to the window in a single breath.

  The ward blanketed the building like an outer invisible shell. The Order’s protective spell was strong enough to hold off an entire squad of MSDU mages, but whatever hit it had left a dent.

  A solid wall of fire surged up over my window. Pale blue flashed as the invisible barrier of the protective spell strained under the press of the flames.

  The fire died. A female voice rolled through the building. “Where are you, miserable rodent? I’ve come to burn down your tree!”

  My aunt had arrived.

  BOOM! THE WARD TOOK ANOTHER HIT.

  The building blocked my view. I needed a better angle.

  I sprinted into the hallway, turned left, and ran to Maxine’s desk. Grendel followed me, snarling. Maxine’s office was shallow, but long, and her window was the farthest I could get from the entrance short of breaking into Ted’s lair.

  I swung the window open and leaned out.

  Below me and to the left a man in a tattered cloak punched the ward, trying to batter his way through the spell to the front door.

  Boom!

  Boom!

  His bare arms glowed with dark red.

  Torch. Power of fire. My aunt decided not to show up in person. I’d hoped I’d hurt her enough for her to lay low for a day. No such luck.

  Andrea popped into Maxine’s office with a huge crossbow in her hands. The crossbow sprouted metal gun-looking parts in odd places as if half a dozen assorted rifles had thrown up on it. Mauro followed her.

  “The guy below is Torch,” I told her for Mauro’s benefit. “He’s an undead mage with power over fire. Erra’s riding his mind the way navigators ride the vampires.”

  “We can’t take it outside.” Mauro leaned to the side, getting a better look, and nodded at the new office buildings across the street. “If we fight him down there, he’ll burn everything. Those buildings across the street are all wood. They’ll go up like straw.”

  “Better to keep him contained.” Andrea took my spot by the window, sighted Torch, and dropped her aim. “No good. Keep him engaged.”

  She moved into the hallway, jumped up, and pulled down the access door leading to the attic.

  Boom!

  Keep him engaged. No sweat.

  I slid the window up, letting the icy air in, and sat on the windowsill. “Break it already, you’re giving me a headache.”

  Torch looked up. About my age, solid black hair, American Indian features. Looked like a Cherokee to me, but I wasn’t sure. “There you are!” he said in Erra’s voice.

  “What’s the matter? Too scared to come out and fight me yourself?”

  “Pace yourself, coward. I’m coming.”

  Boom! The building shuddered. The ward wouldn’t hold him for long.

  Mauro ducked into my office. “Andy says bring him closer to you, so she can get a shot. Here.” He tossed me a jar. “Fire protection.”

  I dug in my pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Hey, Erra?”

  Torch glanced in my direction.

  I dangled five bucks at him and let it flutter down in the six-inch space between the ward and the building. “For you!”

  Torch strode over and stared at the fiver. “What’s this?”

  “Some change for you. Buy your flunkies some decent clothes.” I dipped my fingers into the jar and smeared thick fragrant paste on my face.

  Torch frowned, mirroring the expression on my aunt’s face. “Change?”

  Oh, for crying out loud. “It’s money. We don’t use coins as currency now, we use paper money.”

  He stared at me.

  “I’m insulting you! I’m saying you’re poor, like a beggar, because your undead are in rags. I’m offering to clothe your servants for you, because you can’t provide for them. Come on, how thick do you have to be?”

  He jerked his hand up. A jet of flame erupted from his fingers, sliding against the ward. I jerked back from the window on instinct. The fire died. I leaned forward. “Do you understand now?”

  More fire.

  “What’s the matter? Was that not enough money?”

  Flames hit the window. Hairline veins of blue appeared in the ward. Not good. Why the hell wasn’t Andrea shooting him?

  I waited until the fire vanished and popped my head back out. Torch stood with both arms raised, and his cloak hung open in the middle, presenting me with entirely too much of his full frontal view.

  “Oh no, is it naked time?”

  He opened his mouth to answer. A sharp twang sliced the air. A crossbow bolt sprouted from his open mouth, its point protruding from the back of his neck shining like a green star. The air hissed. The second bolt punched through his chest. The third took him in the stomach, just under the breastbone.

  Green light pulsed once, like an emerald catching the sunlight.

  The bolts exploded.

  A torrent of green erupted into the sky. I ducked away from the window. “What the hell did she shoot him with?”

  “Galahad Five warheads. Something the Welsh came up with to use against the giants. Packs a good punch.” Mauro blinked against the light. “She demanded we get some after that whole Cerberus episode.”

  The flare finally faded. Erra’s jeering voice called out from the street, “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Couldn’t be. I leaned to the window, Mauro next to me. On the street, Torch pulled the shreds of his cloak off his shoulders. The fabric broke to green-glowing ash under his touch.

  He squared his naked shoulders and opened his mouth.

  A blast of magic hit me, ripping through the protective spell like a thunderclap. Window glass exploded. The world went white in agony. The building quaked and bucked under my feet, shuddering from the aftershock of the ward’s collapse. I clenched my teeth and clawed through the pain. My vision cleared. In front of me Mauro slumped on his knees among shards of the shattered window. Blood dripped from his nose.

  He sucked it in and staggered to his feet, his face caught in a grimace. “A power word.”

  “Yes.” Probably something along the lines of Open or Break. I glanced at the window. A translucent wall of blue blocked the view. Hairline cracks fractured the dead ward. The wall held together for another second and broke apart, melting into the wind.

  So that was what a power word spoken by a six-thousand-year-old woman felt like.

  Erra’s voice rolled through the building in a cheerful song. “One little step! Two little steps! Three little steps! I’m coming up the stairs, little squirrel. Prepare yourself.”

  I pulled Slayer free of its sheath and strode into the hallway. Behind me Andrea dropped through the access panel, landing in an easy crouch on the floor.

  The door to the hallway flew open, ripped off its hinges, revealing Torch on the landing. His nude body glowed with an angry deep ruby light. A wide metal collar clasped his neck. There goes my decapitation trick.

  He was undead, made with my family’s blood. It gave me a chance, a small insignificant chance, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I pulled the magic to me.

  Torch raised his left foot, stepping inside. T
iny sparks broke across his toes. His foot touched the floor and the sparks erupted into flames, spiraling up his limbs in a quick cascade.

  Mauro braced himself.

  The flames licked Torch’s bare chest. Fifty feet of the hallway lay between us, four offices on each side. I kept pulling, winding the magic around me. That’s right, bring him closer, Aunt dear. The shorter the range, the greater the impact.

  The crossbow string twanged. Twin bolts pierced Torch’s chest. He ripped them out with an impatient jerk of the flame-sheathed hand. Andrea swore.

  “Cute,” Erra barked. “My turn.”

  The fire swirled around Torch like a mantle of heat and light. He raised his arms. Flames danced about his fingertips.

  A huge hand pushed me back. Mauro thrust himself in front of me. His shirt was gone. A dense wall of tattoos covered his back and chest. They glowed with tiny lines of bright red that shifted and flowed, as if inside Mauro’s skin his flesh had turned to lava. He stomped, first left foot, then right, planting himself in the hallway, feet spread wide, arms raised at his sides.

  “Get out of the way!” I snarled.

  Mauro took a deep breath.

  A fireball burst from Torch’s arms, roaring down the hallway.

  Mauro bellowed a single word. “Mahui-ki!”

  The tattoos flashed with bright red. The wall of flame broke into twin jets five feet before the Samoan, shooting through Mauro’s office on the left and Gene’s on the right. Mauro stood untouched.

  The fire died. The Torch cocked his head to the side like a dog. “What’s this?”

  Mauro grunted and stomped, one foot, then the other. The red lines on his skin flared.

  Another wall of fire hit Mauro and twisted, deflected into the offices. Mauro packed a hell of a power. But now three hundred pounds of him stood between me and Torch and those three hundred pounds showed no signs of moving. The hallway was too narrow. I was stuck.

  “Mauro, get out of the way.”

  “Hit me!” Mauro roared at the Torch.

  Right. No intelligent life there.

  “Brace yourself.” Torch swung his arms, building up spirals of fire around his arms.

  If I couldn’t go through Mauro, I had to go around him. I ducked into the break room and kicked the wall. The old wooden boards splintered under my kick. The building was solid brick, but the inner walls that cleaved the inside space into offices were single board thin. I kicked again. The wood gave with a snap and I broke through into Mauro’s office.

  In the hallway Mauro roared, a raw bellow full of strain.

  I hit the next wall with my shoulder.

  Mauro’s body flew past me. A thud shook the building—Mauro’s back punching Ted’s office door. A wall of fire followed, blasting me with heat. Andrea screamed.

  I tore at the wall in front of me and squeezed through the narrow opening.

  “Where are you, whelp? Did you run away again, maggot?”

  The boards creaked. She was moving Torch in my direction. A wound to the stomach would do nothing to him and the collar kept me from slicing his neck. Not a lot of choices. If this failed, he’d burn us alive.

  Torch passed by the door.

  Now.

  I lunged out of the room and clamped my left arm across his throat, pulling his back snug against me. Fire shot along his skin. I slid Slayer between his ribs into his heart and whispered a word into his ear.

  “Hessad.” Mine.

  The world shook, as all of the magic I’d gathered tore from me at once. Pain streamed through my body, wringing tears from my eyes. Torch’s mind opened before me, hot like boiling metal. I clamped it, dousing the flames, and smashed against the solid wall of Erra’s presence. Her mind punched me and I reeled.

  The immense force of her mind towered over me. Nobody was that powerful. Nobody.

  Was that what looking into my father’s mind would be like? If so, I didn’t have a fucking prayer.

  I pushed back, a gnat against colossus. An immense pressure grinding against me, sparking pain. I hung on, clenching my hand on Slayer’s hilt. If I held it in his heart long enough, the blade would turn the undead tissue to pus. I just had to last.

  Torch spun, lifting me off my feet. Fire licked my chest. “You shame the family. Weakling. Coward, who runs from the fight like a mangy dog.”

  I gritted my teeth against the pain and pushed back with my mind, extinguishing the flames. “It wasn’t my idea. I had you and I would’ve killed you.”

  Hard fingers gripped my left wrist and pulled, slowly moving my arm from his throat. I strained. The moment he got free, he’d pull Slayer out and then we’d be done for.

  “You dare to wrestle with my mind? I’m the Plaguebringer. Gods flee when they hear me coming.”

  “If my hands weren’t busy, I’d clap for you.”

  Slayer gave under my hand, slightly loose in the rapidly liquefying undead tissue, and I jabbed it deeper into the wound. Erra grunted, a harsh sound of pain.

  “Did that hurt? How about this?” I twisted the blade.

  A fiery hammer hit my mind, tearing a groan from me. Heat shot from Torch. The air around me boiled. Fire spiraled up his legs.

  “Did that hurt, whelp? I’ll cook you alive. You’ll beg me to kill you when your eyes pop from the heat.”

  Torch threw himself back, smashing me against the wall. I hung on to him like a pit bull. A few more moments. It didn’t hurt that much. I just had to hold on for a few moments.

  Erra slammed into the other wall. Something crunched in my back.

  A dark shape sprang from Ted’s office and sprinted to us. Erra saw it. Flames filled the hallway. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe.

  An enormous black dog shot through the fire. I saw eyes glowing with blue fire and ivory fangs. The creature smashed into Torch.

  My mental defenses shuddered. I was done.

  The giant dog clamped his teeth on Torch’s arm and hung on. Torch shook him like a terrier shakes a rat, but the dog clung to him, dragging him down.

  A second shape burst through the fire, this one pale and spotted. Deranged blue eyes glared at me from a face that was neither hyena nor human, but a seamless fluid blend of the two. Andrea buried her claws in Torch’s gut. We crashed on the floor, Torch on the bottom, me on top.

  The world drowned in pain, melting into hoarse snarls.

  The flesh under Slayer’s blade gave. I strained, forcing the saber through the soggy undead heart. The blade ground against ribs and burst out in a spray of dark fluid. The undead blood splashed on my lips and its sting tasted like heaven.

  “I’ll kill you,” Erra gurgled. “I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth—”

  I smashed my foot into Torch’s neck, crushing the windpipe.

  The awful pressure on my mind vanished.

  I closed my eyes and floated in a long moment. Absence of pain was bliss.

  And then an ache gnawed at my arms. My eyes snapped open.

  A sleek creature rose from the Torch’s stomach. Petite, proportionate, with elegant long limbs and well-shaped head, she was a perfect meld of human and hyena. Dark blood drenched her hands armed with long claws, staining her spotted forearms all the way to the elbow. Furious red eyes gazed at me from a human face seamlessly flowing into a dark muzzle.

  She’d changed to save me.

  Andrea’s dark lips trembled, showing the sharp cones of her teeth. “God damn it.”

  She kicked Torch’s corpse, knocking it off me, and kicked it again, sending it flying into the wall. “You bitch! Mother-fucking whore.”

  I sat up and watched her punt and throw his body, spouting profanities. Being part bouda, she fought driven by rage. The quicker she let it out, the quicker she would be able to calm down enough to change back.

  The enormous black creature lay down next to me and licked my foot.

  “Grendel?” I asked softly.

  The hell-dog whined softly in a distinctly Grendel-like fashion.

&n
bsp; My attack poodle turned into a huge black hound with glowing eyes and shaggy fur. Figures.

  The light dawned. The Black Dog. Of course. It was an old legend from so many cultures nobody knew exactly where it came from. Stories of giant Black Dogs with shiny eyes haunting the night have been passed around for years, especially in the United Kingdom and northern Europe. Nobody quite knew what they were, but when captured, they scanned as “fera,” animal magic. Animal magic registered as a very pale yellow. When the medtechs scanned, their scanner must’ve failed to pick it up.

  Andrea growled a few feet away. Grendel whined again and tried to stick his baseball-sized nose into my hand. Around us the office smoldered.

  We’d beaten her again. Three undead down. Four to go.

  CHAPTER 24

  TO CALL HURRICANE SAVANNAH, WHICH FLATTENED half of the East Coast some years back, “a gentle breeze” would be an understatement. To say that Ted Moynohan was pissed off would be an understatement of criminal proportions.

  He stood in the middle of the hallway, surveying the smoking soggy ruin that was the Order’s office and radiating anger with dangerous intensity. After Andrea’s rage died down, she changed back. Shifting back and forth pretty much wiped her out. We dumped snow and water on the fire, and the result wasn’t pretty. Every window had been busted when the ward collapsed and icy wind howled through the building, juggling loose papers.

  I’d laid out Erra’s identity in broad strokes and made my report—lucky for me I had a lot of practice lying through my teeth. Mauro had been knocked out solid for most of the fight. He now sat in the middle of the hallway, pressing a rag filled with snow to a bump on his head. He didn’t seem in a hurry to volunteer any information.

  Ted said nothing. A dead silence claimed the office, the kind of silence that usually only struck at 2 a.m., when the city sank into deep sleep and even the monsters rested.

  Flame-retardant carpet and metal furniture had done its job. The building had survived and the damage to the office was mostly cosmetic. The damage to the Order, however, was enormous. The knights were untouchable. You injure one and the rest would show up on your doorstep, throwing enough magic and steel to make you think the world had ended. Erra had come into the Chapter, into the Order’s house, and wrecked it. Ted had to hit back, fast and hard.