Magic Bleeds kd-4 Page 33

  “We should clap or something,” Curran said. “She’s trying so hard.”

  “Maybe we could scrounge up some panties to throw.” I adjusted the binoculars to focus on her face.

  Erra raised her head. Power brimmed in her eyes. She looked regal, like some arrogant goddess poised above the chasm. I had to give it to her—my aunt knew how to put on a show. Would’ve been more dramatic if she had seven undead instead of three, but hey, at least she had some flunkies to bring.

  Erra reached for the axe. Her fingers closed on the handle. She thrust it at the sky. With a hoarse scream, power pulsed from her like a shockwave, shaking the foundation of the ruins. It slammed into me, setting my blood on fire. Curran snarled. By the Mole Hole, people cringed.

  Needles burst from Erra’s red suit. Veins of dark crimson spiraled up her legs. The fabric flowed, thickened, snapping into recognizable shapes: fitted curaise, spiked pauldrons, gauntlets . . .

  It wasn’t spandex. Shit.

  I leaned to Curran. “She’s wearing blood armor. It’s impenetrable to normal weapons, claws, and teeth.”

  His eyes darkened. “If I hit her hard enough, she’ll still feel it.”

  I nodded. “My sword will eventually soften the armor, but it will take time. She doesn’t know you’re here. If you wait, you could get in a good shot.”

  My personal monster leaned closer. “Still trying to keep me from the fight?”

  I slid my fingers along his furry cheek. “Trying to win. She made no helmet—she’s too vain.”

  Ancient or not, she was still a human and he was a werelion. If he timed it right, he could crack her skull like an eggshell with a single blow.

  “One shot,” he said.

  “I’ll keep her busy. Just don’t bite her. Broken teeth aren’t sexy.”

  He grinned, presenting me with a mouth full of finger-sized fangs. I rolled my eyes.

  Erra took a step forward. For a moment she towered above the drop, light dancing over her scarlet armor, and then she plunged into the Mole Hole. Gale chased her, a soundless shadow gliding across the glassy floor. Darkness and Beast remained behind.

  Twenty yards to the center and the bonfire.

  Fifteen.

  Ten.

  Tamara unsheathed her sword. Fiery sparks flared at the edge of the crater. PAD archers lighting their arrows.

  Eight.

  The archers fired.

  The barrels exploded, punching my eardrums with an air fist. An inferno drowned the Mole Hole, emanating heat. Within its depths I glimpsed Tamara, unscathed, the fire sliding along her body but never touching her.

  The spectators cheered at the human barbeque.

  The roar of the flames gained a new note, a deep whistling tune. It grew louder and louder. The flames turned, twisting faster and faster, rising in a spiral, like a tornado of fire. The cone of flame parted, revealing Gale floating in the heart of the tornado, his hair streaming from his head, his arms crossed on his chest. His body leaned back, completely relaxed. His eyes were closed.

  So much for napalm.

  Below him Erra stood. A red helmet hid her face and hair. The blood armor encased every inch of her. Oh, good. Because it wasn’t hard enough before. She had to go and put a helmet on.

  The fiery tornado shifted out of her way. The helmet crumbled, revealing her face. Her mane of hair spilled over her back. Score. No helmet was good for us.

  With a grimace, Erra swung her axe and charged.

  Tamara struck, her sword preternaturally fast. Erra batted it aside like a toothpick and swung in a crushing reverse blow. The axe bit deep into Tamara’s shoulder, cutting through the collarbone all the way into her ribs.

  Tamara screamed, a desperate sound of pain and fear.

  Curran clamped his oversized hand on my shoulder. “You can’t help her. We wait.”

  Erra caught Tamara by her throat and lifted her off her feet. Her roar smothered Tamara’s screaming. “Is this all you offer me? Is this it?”

  She shook Tamara once, as if flinging water from her hand. The noise of the fire drowned out the telltale crunch of bones, but her head flopped to the side, loose on a broken neck.

  “Where are you, child?”

  I rocked forward.

  “Not yet.” Curran pushed me down.

  “She’ll kill them.”

  “You go in there now, we’ll all die. We stick to the plan.”

  In the air, Gale opened his eyes.

  “There is no escape. I’ll find you,” Erra promised.

  The cone of fire unfurled like a flower and splashed against the rim of the Mole Hole, torching the archers. Tortured screams ripped the night apart, followed by the sickening stench of charred human flesh. Gale turned, and the inferno followed, roaring like a hungry animal. He cooked the survivors alive as they fled.

  All around the Mole Hole, people in PAD and Biohazard suits ran aimlessly, their weapons abandoned. The idiot spectators still packed the building. Erra’s magic didn’t reach them.

  “Here I come!” Erra thundered.

  Charred, smoking corpses littered the opposite side of the crater. A thin female voice cried somewhere close, sobbing hysterically, a high-pitched note against the guttural screaming. At the far right, Darkness and Beast perched on the edge of the Mole Hole, untouched by flames. They must’ve circled around while we watched the human barbeque. “Wait,” Curran said.

  I clenched my teeth.

  A gust of air erupted from the bottom of the Mole Hole, lifting Erra to the edge. A moment later her three undead joined her.

  “Go.” Curran released me.

  I ran across the roof, grabbed the rope attached to the fire escape, and slid into the street.

  SNOW CRUNCHED UNDER MY FEET. BEHIND ME THE Casino floated in a cloud of ethereal light streaming from the powerful feylanterns.

  I had a simple mission. Get Erra’s attention. Draw her down the street, away from the crowd, so the shapeshifters could get behind her.

  Yeah. Piece of cake.

  I braced myself. “Strawberry Shortcake called, she wants her outfit back.”

  Erra turned to me.

  I waved my fingers at her. “Hey, Twinkle Toes.”

  A gust of air shot from Gale. I ducked, but not low enough. Wind slammed into me. The ground vanished and I flew a few feet and slammed against a parked truck with a thud. My back crunched.

  “We don’t run from a fight and we don’t hide behind lesser men.” Erra started toward me. “You’re young and weak, but have no fear. I’ll help you. I won’t let you flee and shame the family twice.”

  I rolled to my feet and swung my sword, warming up my wrist. “Shaming the family is your job. Nothing I’ve done could ever compare.”

  “You flatter me so.”

  She started toward me, bringing her goons in a triangular formation: Beast on the left, Gale on the right, and Darkness in the center. Keep coming, Auntie dear. Keep coming.

  “I’m just giving you your due. Every war your brother started, you managed to screw up. You have a record of failure thousands of years long.” I spread my arms. “How could I compete?”

  “Before you die, I’ll set you on fire,” she promised. “I will burn you slowly for hours.”

  “Promises, promises.” I began backing up again. She followed. Come with me, away from people. Come with me, Erra. Let’s dance.

  Darkness raised his arms. Magic pulsed from him like a blast wave after an explosion. The world went white in a haze of panic. I couldn’t breathe. My thoughts fractured and scurried off, leaving me lost and unbalanced. A luminescent haze floated before me, like a thundercloud backlit by splashes of lightning, and beyond it I sensed a gaping void. Nothing but calm empty darkness.

  So that was what Darkness meant. Fear. All-consuming, overwhelming fear, so powerful that it tore you from your life and threw you into the void, alone and blind.

  Rage reared inside me. I grabbed it like a crutch and pulled myself up, back to reality. M
y vision returned. I shook myself like a wet dog.

  “Is that all? I thought it would be something powerful.”

  She raised her arm, showing off the segmented gauntlet. “Where is your blood armor, whelp? Why don’t you cut your wrist and grow a blade? What’s the matter? You can’t do it, can you? You don’t know the secret of molding the blood. I do. All you do is talk and run.”

  My family was full of overpowered assholes. I kept walking. We were four blocks from the Mole Hole now. I had no idea what her range was. “No matter what you do or how hard you try, you will never surpass your brother. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

  Magic splayed from Darkness in dark translucent streams, bending back, flooding the Mole Hole behind him and stretching farther and farther, to the decrepit buildings, to the hundreds of people packed like sardines into the concrete shells of the ruins. The enormity of his power shook me.

  “Watch,” Erra called out.

  The Darkness brought his arms together. No, God damn it, no . . .

  A wild howl pierced the night. Another voice joined, another, more . . .

  A torrent of people burst from the ruins behind Erra.

  Fucking shit.

  People streamed toward me, eyes mad, mouths gaping open, running like crazed cattle. I ducked behind a car. The human stampede thundered past me. Bodies thudded into the metal, making it shudder. Screams filled the air and above it all Erra’s laughter floated, like the toll of a funeral bell.

  A blast of magic ripped from Darkness. Reality fractured and I floated among the pieces, unsure who I was or where I came from. Thoughts and words swirled around me, round and round, in a glowing cascade. Darkness beckoned just beyond the chaos. I reached into the cloud and pulled a word out.

  “Dair.” Release.

  Magic bit at me with needle jaws. I shuddered, shaking, the shock of the pain tearing the haze.

  A body landed next to me, shaggy with fur. Mad eyes glared from a face that was neither beast nor human. A female shapeshifter. Her body snapped, twisted, jerked, and a coyote stood before me. She leapt up and dashed down the street, galloping after the herd of terrified people.

  He didn’t send them after the undead? Not yet. We’d agreed. I jerked upright and saw Erra in the middle of the street, the undead behind her, no shapeshifters in sight. The lone shapeshifter must’ve been hit with a stray blast of power.

  Every inch of me hurt from magic spent too quickly.

  You’re the distraction. Get up and do the distracting.

  I got up and walked into the open, Slayer bare.

  She started toward me, and I backed away. Half a block to go. Close enough to the Casino, far enough from the Mole Hole, the perfect distance for the shapeshifters to strike.

  “Again you run.”

  “Not my fault you walk too slowly to catch me.” Up close her armor resembled scale mail: bloodred scales, some large, some small, overlapping over her frame. Now why couldn’t I do that? What was I missing?

  I crossed over the manhole cover. The last of the stragglers dashed by. The street was empty except for me and her, and her three corpses.

  She charged. The world ground to a screeching halt. I heard myself breathe, my chest rising slowly, as if underwater.

  In the three seconds it took her to cover the distance between us, I heard Voron’s voice from my memories. It said, “If it bleeds, you can kill it.”

  She bled—her armor testified to it—and I was better.

  Erra smashed into me. I leaned back, letting her axe swing past me, ducked, thrust, and sliced under her arm. Slayer glanced off. She whipped around, but I danced away. She lunged, I ducked and jumped clear.

  “You can’t win,” Erra snarled.

  Behind her, dark shadows lined the roof. Of the fifty Curran had brought, only half were left. Here’s hoping it would be enough.

  “I’m not trying to win,” I told her.

  “What are you trying to do?”

  Keep you occupied.

  The shapeshifters dropped off the roof like clawed ghosts.

  A seven-foot-tall scaled monster hit Beast. They clashed in a mess of fur and claws. The primeval deep roar of an enraged crocodile rolled through the street.

  I launched a whirlwind of strikes. My sword became a whip, cutting, slashing, dicing, left, right, left. Focus on me. Focus on me, damn you. As long as I kept her busy, she would have trouble coordinating the movements of all three undead at once and keeping me at bay.

  Over Erra’s shoulder, Gale rose into the air, clutching Darkness in his arms.

  The shapeshifters had missed them. Damn it.

  Erra’s axe ground against Slayer. She drove me back.

  Gale soared above the street twenty feet in the air, wrapped in a cone of wind. Foul magic pulsed from Darkness.

  A chorus of enraged snarls and howls answered, punctuated by an eerie slice of hyena laughter.

  Erra kept pushing me back. I veered from the wall and danced back, toward Gale. I ducked and dodged, trying to turn her, but she barreled at me like a freight train.

  To the left of me an enormous werewolf crouched on the pavement. She hooked the manhole cover with her clawed fingers, did a 360, and hurled it at Gale. The metal disk cut like a knife through the whirlwind surrounding Gale and smashed into Darkness.

  A deep female voice yelled, “Noboru! Sekasu kodomotachi! Noboru! Noboru!”

  Red-furred shapeshifters surged up the walls of the buildings—the foxes of Clan Nimble.

  Erra elbowed me. I flew back and rolled into a crouch, just in time to swipe her legs from under her. She fell. I struck her twice on the way down and withdrew.

  Dark slashes scored her armor, like the strikes of a whip—places where Slayer connected. None looked deep enough to do any damage. Voron had promised me that the saber would slice through blood armor, given enough time, but so far Slayer wasn’t cutting it. If she’d been wearing regular armor, she would have been bleeding like a stuck pig. If wishes were money, the world would have no beggars.

  Still something looked different about her. Something . . .

  The spikes on her armor were gone.

  I backed away. Where the hell did the spikes go?

  Erra hefted her axe, her face demonic in its fury. Her chest heaved. My arms ached like they were about to fall off. A slow pain gnawed on my back, and when I turned the wrong way, something stabbed my left side with a hot spike. Probably a broken rib. That was okay. I was still on my feet.

  The werefoxes launched themselves at Gale from the roof. They clung to him, biting and clawing. The fox on the left ripped out an arm.

  Erra snarled. Gale dropped Darkness, shuddered, and plummeted to the ground, banging into the buildings as he fell, the foxes still clinging to him. Gale bounced once off the pavement and the rest of shapeshifters swarmed him.

  Erra looked no worse for wear.

  When out of options, mouth off. I nodded at Darkness, lying only twenty feet away. “Whoopsie. Did that hurt? Now there is only one.”

  “One will be enough.” Erra grinned.

  A small chunk of her armor broke from her shoulder and fell to the asphalt, turning liquid. I watched it sink into the snow. A tiny streak of vapor escaped and then it vanished into the white.

  A crumb of her armor. Her blood. A drop of her blood.

  Behind us, the snow churned by our feet marked our trail—we’d drawn a circle in the street and all the while we beat on each other, she’d been dripping blood from her armor.

  A dark shadow loomed on the roof behind Erra. Curran.

  “No!” I lunged at her, but it was too late.

  He dived off the roof. Erra dodged at the last moment, but Curran’s paw connected to her skull. The blow took her off her feet. She flew, nearly plowing into me.

  “Run!” I lunged at her prone body and stabbed with all my strength, again and again. “Run, Curran!”

  Erra roared. Slayer’s blade kept glancing off.

  A wall of
red flames surged up from the snow, sealing the four of us from the shapeshifters. She’d locked us in a blood ward.

  Erra rolled, knocking my legs from under me. I stumbled back and she jumped to her feet. Blood dripped from her cheekbone and poured from her mouth. The left side of her head was caved in, dented by Curran’s blow.

  I lunged at her and ran right into the spike topping her axe. It took me in the stomach, just below my ribs. Pain exploded. I jerked free and she kicked me, driving me back into the snow. The axe jabbed through my left side. I screamed. She’d pinned me to the ground.

  Erra spat blood and teeth and swung, as if throwing a baseball. Spikes shot from her armor, falling in a ragged line between Curran and me. The blood ward snapped up just as he charged and he crashed into it at full speed.

  She’d halved the circle: her and me on one side, Darkness and Curran on the other.

  “You want to rut with a half-breed,” she snarled. “Watch. I’ll show you exactly what he is.”

  Curran spun toward the undead.

  A torrent of magic burst from Darkness, tearing at Curran. The blood ward cut us off and I felt nothing—Curran got the full dose. He stumbled, shook once, as if flinging water from himself. His body shifted, growing leaner, slicker. Fur sprouted along his back.

  This was it, the Darkness’s power. It would make Curran go wild.

  I writhed under the axe, trying to break free. The Beast Lord took a step forward.

  Erra’s hand clawed the air. Darkness vomited another torrent of crippling fear. Curran shuddered. His hands thickened, growing longer claws.

  Another blast of magic. He kept walking.

  Another blast.

  “Look!” Erra leaned into the axe, grinding it into me.

  Curran crouched in the middle of the street. Dense fur sheathed him, flaring into an enormous mane on his back and disproportionately huge head. No trace of a human or lion remained—his body was seamless and whole, a nightmarish mutated blend that was neither. Long limbs supported a broad, muscled body, striped with dark gray. His eyes glowed yellow, so bright and pale, almost white. I looked into their depths and saw no rational thought. No intelligence or comprehension.

  He raised his head, unhinging his enormous jaws, and roared, shaking the street, all teeth and fur.