Apocalyptic Mojo (2 page)

Ardith’s vision darkened and churned with shapes. Despite the muzziness that tried to claim her, she was vaguely aware of the hunter’s delectable scent surrounding her, as well as the enticing heat of his big body. She had an overwhelming need to burrow into that heat. It promised to chase away the shuddering cold infusing her body. Despite the unwelcome thought, Ardith shoved against his chest. “Put me down.”

“So you can kiss the rocks beneath my feet. I think not. Lie still. I can get us out of here more quickly if you’ll stop fighting me.”

Ardith went limp. She told herself it was because of his promise to get her out of the hellish dungeons. Deep down she knew his heat and delicious hardness were just too pleasant to escape.

Not when the alternative was the bowels of hell.

She stared straight ahead. Her hands clenched his shirt so tightly her fingers ached. Cool air washed over her skin and she realized he was running. The rhythmic clicking of Sirius’ nails alongside soothed her and she closed her eyes so she couldn’t see the walls rushing by. He covered the remaining distance to the portal effortlessly, as if her weight were no more than a feather resting on his hands.

Moments later she heard the whoosh of air that told her they’d entered the portal and the world thickened, spinning flecks of minute matter across her skin as they defied time and space.

Suddenly they stood in the bright sunshine. Flowers scented the air.

Ardith took a deep breath, cleansing her lungs of the moldy, subterranean stench, and opened her eyes. She looked into the hunter’s cool, silver-blue gaze and gasped.

For just a beat, she’d caught him looking down at her with something less than pure hatred.

It must have surprised him as much as it surprised her, for he all but dropped her to her feet.

They frowned at each other for a moment and then Ardith turned away, striding across the meadows surrounding Devil’s Glen, the largest habitation of humankind in the continent once known as America. “Come along, dog. You too, Sirius.”

A massive hand dropped onto her shoulder and yanked her around, dragging her up against a massive, granite-like chest. Ardith gasped in surprise. She hadn’t heard him move, hadn’t sensed him. Despite his size, he’d moved like a wraith—silent, quick and deadly.

Silver-blue intensity seared through her. “Don’t. Ever. Call me that again. Clear?”

Ardith glared back at him, swallowed harder than she would have liked, and her mouth opened to snap something back.

A massive finger pressed against her lips. “Do not speak. You and I both know only poison comes from between those lips. I’m trying very hard not to kill you at this moment.”

Their gazes held, collided. Ardith swore she could smell smoke from the explosive clash of their wills. She refused to look away. Refused to back down. He was her inferior and she would be damned if she’d let him intimidate her as he did his fugitives.

The air thickened with leaking magic. His heat and scent infused his energy, making her traitorous body tighten with need. His finger remained pressed against her lips.

Sirius whimpered.

Finally Ardith opened her mouth and sucked the thick finger inside, pulling it deep. His icy glare widened in shock. A beat later she pulled away. “Not everything that comes out of my mouth is poison, hunter.” Turning away, she stalked toward the squat environs ahead. Smiling.

Ardith one, hunter zero.

CHAPTER TWO

In 2090, what was known as the Asian continent sent its first nuclear bomb winging its way toward the West, declaring a need to purge the world of the infidel. The resulting war touched every continent on Earth, razing most of them and sending the few inhabitants who’d seen it coming and were prepared, scurrying for their safe places. Mostly underground. However, those who could escaped through time to avoid death and the horrible aftermath of the event.

Since that time—several decades earlier—the human race had recovered somewhat, but was changed for the foreseeable future. Starting each day with an overwhelming awareness of their vulnerabilities, civilized man had designed his new world with far less panache and glitz. Gone were the glass and stainless steel giants that had once fought for notice high above the streets. Instead, the main street Ardith and Draigh walked was lined with one- and two-story mud-colored brick buildings.

Scarred by his history, modern man opted for low-profile and easily overlooked buildings rather than big and flashy. Construction in 2149 was inverted, with most of the structure below ground. Tunnels crisscrossed the city of Devil’s Glen, connecting the homes of the wealthiest inhabitants and the major centers.

For obvious reasons, it was Ardith’s least favorite epoch. Having no such fear of the place, Sirius trotted out ahead of them, his sensitive nose scenting the air as he went, searching for magic or zombies.

At mid-day, the shiny black streets of Devil’s Glen were filled with solar-powered cars and pale-skinned people who came above ground for an hour or two a day to consume the sun’s heat and drain it of its life giving Vitamin D.

That was something else which had changed. Cancer and heart disease were no longer the main cause of death. As a side effect of man’s underground ways, bone disease had become the leading source of debilitation and death.

“Are you sure this was the last place she was seen?” Ardith pulled the sun into her body through sheer force of will, trying to chase the slimy terror of her recent experience away and prepare for the next.

With Ardith’s luck, she figured there was very little chance their target would be happily ensconced above ground creating havoc. Edwige was surely tucked into some hellish underground cave, grinning at the thought of Ardith having to descend into purgatory to find her.

“This place, and this time. In fact one of her creations killed a man here only twenty-four hours ago.”

“Witnesses?”

“A sister. I know her location. I was about to visit her when I was recalled.”

She ignored the venom in his words. She understood his frustration. The last thing she’d wanted was to be saddled with him. “Fine. That’s where we’ll start.”

Draigh couldn’t believe he was being forced to work with a mage. He was fully capable of capturing the crone Edwige without an epoch mage tagging along. He’d hunted rogue magic users for centuries and needed no instruction from the young wench striding along beside him as if she owned the world.

He cast her a sideways glance, taking in the long, well-toned limbs and the lush curves beneath the scant leather costume she wore. The ridiculous clothing barely covered her considerable assets. He wanted to be disgusted by the clothing, hating how it made him hard beneath his own leather breeches.

Very hard.

And he despised the woman. The last thing he wanted was to have any kind of pleasant thoughts about her. Particularly of the carnal kind.

Frowning crankily, Draigh forced his gaze away from the soft roundness bulging past the edges of the leather top. The woman was a damn temptress. He’d seen her type before. He’d had his balls handed to him by one in fact. He might not be the smartest hunter on the planet. But he rarely made the same mistake twice. The witch was nothing but trouble.

And at the moment she stood between him and his prey. That was unacceptable. The first thing he needed to do was rid himself of her. Then he could do the job he’d been hired to do.

Her steps slowed and faltered as they approached the low-slung structure at the edge of town. It was built into the side of a hill. He immediately realized the same thing she obviously had. It was one of the bunker-style buildings that had become so popular since the great wars. Only the entrance was above ground. Most of the structure would be subterranean.

He slid a furtive glance the witch’s way and noted the moisture already beading on her upper lip. Her usual creamy, peach-toned skin had turned a pasty shade of tan. He wanted to celebrate her discomfort. But somehow he just couldn’t. “I can go inside and question the witness. You can wait outside.” He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a command. Unfortunately that was the way it had emerged from his lips.

Sirius dropped to his wide haunches, his tongue sliding out to snap across his lips as if to say, “I can’t wait to see her reaction to that one.”

Her head whipped around, flinging the thick, waist-length braid into the air as her gaze snapped in his direction. “I’m fine. I don’t need you protecting me.”

Draigh ground his teeth and clenched his fists. So much for learning from his mistakes. He’d tried to give the viper a soft nest to rest upon, and the damn thing had thanked him by attempting to sink its fangs into his throat. “Suit yourself, witch.”

She strode right up to the victim’s door and pounded. Draigh waited a few feet back, his gaze sweeping the area for signs of Edwige’s own special type of trouble. The witch pounded on the door again and received no response.

She glanced at Draigh. “Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.” Magic thickened on the air and Draigh swore. “Let me try…”

Ardith sent a focused beam of magic into the door handle and the door swung open. She turned to give Draigh a smug smile, not noticing as a large hand appeared from inside the house and wrapped around the edge of the door. Draigh called out a warning and she started to turn.

The door slammed outward, sending her sprawling.

Before he knew what he was doing, Draigh had thrown himself over the witch and covered her to the ground.

She landed beneath him with an umph and started pelting his chest with her small fists. “Get off me, oaf.”

Pain pierced his calf as her damn familiar clamped his massive jaws around Draigh’s leg and gave it a warning squeeze, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

The stench of sour, old death assailed his nostrils. Draigh squinted through the shadows beyond the door and saw movement. “Stop it, witch! Call off your dog. We have company.”

He tried to grab her wrists but she was too agitated. Fighting the urge to smack her unconscious, Draigh screamed into her face, “Stop fighting me. Edwige’s pets are about to descend on us.”

Fortunately her dog was smarter than she. He released Draigh and stood with teeth bared, snarling at the shadowed entrance.

She stopped pounding on him and peered around his shoulder just as the first pale half-rotted face appeared in the doorway. “Well why didn’t you say so?” The first blast of her magic nearly took his ear off and left a whistling tone in his head.

He rolled off her. “Damn it, woman.”

She leapt to her feet and sent another blast into the conglomeration of mucus and bone marching stiffly toward them. The zombie’s bloodied, jagged teeth were bared in a warning hiss. When her magic hit, the thing surged backward, a huge chunk of its chest sloughing away under the force of her witch fire.

The zombie bounced into the pale-faced monster at its back and started forward again. Sirius leapt on the next monster, carrying it to the ground and very efficiently removing its head with a single jerk of his massive jaws at its throat. Blood and goo sprayed upward but Sirius was already gone, having flung himself onto the next zombie coming through the door.

Draigh pulled one of his knives and leapt on the lumbering monster nearest him, slicing the knife cleanly through its spongy neck with one swipe. Putrid-smelling green slime sprayed in an arc from the blade of his knife, saturating Draigh’s face and arms. The head dropped to the ground and rolled away, and the body sank slowly to the earth.

When Draigh looked toward the door again, he was facing a small army of the mangy creatures, though Sirius had left a trail of carnage in his wake. Ardith stood beside him, her eyes flashing and her fists fizzing with unshed magic.

He glanced at her. “I hate zombies.”

She gave him a slow smile. “You wanted exercise. I think you’re gonna get it.”

Then she leapt into the fray, witch fire flying, and Draigh reluctantly followed her in.

~
A
M
~

They found the sister on the main floor. What was left of her. Apparently Edwige hadn’t wanted the sister to tell what she knew.

“Gods, what a horrible way to die.” Ardith touched a severed hand, the fingers curled in a way that bespoke the victim’s pain and terror.

“This cannot go unanswered,” Draigh said. “Come, a meal and a shower, and we can search for her tonight. She does most of her devilry once the sun goes down.”

Ardith reluctantly stood. “I need to dispose of the body.”

He frowned. The witch was right. If they didn’t completely destroy the remains, the girl might rise with the moon, to join her murderers in their deadly plunder. “I’ll watch the door.”

Leaving her to her disgusting work, Draigh climbed the steep flight of stairs toward the street. Sirius had been busy extinguishing the remains of the zombies they’d killed. All that was left was a wisp of foul-smelling smoke that was quickly drifting away.

Draigh was alarmed to see that the sun was already descending. Edwige would be sending her pets out to forage and terrorize soon.

At least the streets would be fairly empty. The watchers monitored the city via aircraft once the sun was fully down, to ensure that no lights were visible in the night sky. It was a precaution the humans had adopted following the great wars.

Their enemies couldn’t bomb what they couldn’t see.

The sound of rapid footsteps on the stairs caused him to turn. The witch was still the pasty, unhealthy color she’d acquired in the street, only now she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat too.

“Done?”

“Yes.” She dropped her hand to Sirius’ surprisingly tidy fur, too weary from her emotional journeys to even snap at him. Not a good sign. Draigh made a sudden decision. “Come. We have a couple of hours before we’ll need to return to search for the witch. If we hurry, it will be enough time to clean up and grab sustenance.”

She started to shake her head. He figured she dreaded the thought of descending below the earth to one of the hotels in Devil’s Glen.

“We’ll leave this place.”

She fixed him with a thoughtful gaze and then seemed to lose some of the tension tightening her limbs. Inclining her head, she fell into step beside him, following him to the portal.

~
A
M
~

The first thing she noticed, as they stepped from the portal, was the sound of water rushing and roaring nearby. Her next realization was that, despite his rough demeanor, Draigh lived like a king. Not many mages had a portal in their homes.

A startled cry drew her gaze to a young woman who had been smoothing the covers on a massive bed. The tiny creature was probably in her early twenties, and she was dressed like a maid from the eighteen hundreds. The woman looked alarmed when she saw Draigh, her glance sliding toward Ardith and Sirius with unrestrained curiosity. “I’m sorry, Lord Piers. I just stepped in for a moment to tidy the place for ye’r return.”

Ardith noted the thick brogue, which made the girl hard to understand.

Draigh smiled, putting her at her ease. “Thank you, Wanda. I’d appreciate it if you could bring up two dinner trays as quickly as possible.”

The young maid curtsied and scurried out, sparing Ardith one last curious glance.

Ardith was surprised to discover that the hunter had servants. She’d have expected him to live in a cave somewhere. Instead, given the size of the place, she realized he probably had dozens of servants to attend his every whim.

No wonder he was so uppity.

The enormous room where she stood was circular, with walls of stone and floors of polished wood. Thick carpets covered the spotless floor, giving the austere décor a soft touch she could appreciate. On one wall sat the biggest bed she’d ever seen, covered in silk and an abundant collection of fur throws.

She figured the size of the room and abundance of windows would make keeping it warm difficult. It felt warm enough at the moment however. Probably because of the fireplace across from the bed, which was easily four times the size of any fireplace she’d ever seen. A huge fire crackled and snapped there, giving the warmed air a slightly smoky flavor. No doubt young Wanda’s handiwork.

Ardith’s own home was sparse and plain. She rarely spent time there and hadn’t the interest to make it feel more homely.

But Draigh’s home felt as if it had been in his family for centuries.

“You live in a castle?”

Draigh shrugged. “Since I was a wee bairn.” His Scottish accent was plain in the words. He grimaced slightly. She’d noticed he generally tried to squelch the accent when he spoke, for whatever reason. Though it tended to come out when he was surprised or angry.