Biting Cold (8 page)

“But you wouldn’t harm others to be rid of it,” I quietly reminded him. “Why are you feeling it now? Can you tell if she’s upset? Angry?”

He opened his eyes, his face still tight with pain. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I think she’s nearby.”

I put a hand on the pommel of my sword and opened myself to any hints of magic in the air. But there was nothing. If she was nearby, I couldn’t tell. “Do you know where?”

Ethan shook his head. I could tell he was struggling to maintain his composure, but I wasn’t about to give up on him or let him succumb to whatever was overcoming Mallory. And I realized that if he couldn’t overcome it—a vampire with four hundred years of experience in dealing with magic—how could we possibly ask her to?

I tipped his chin up so that he was forced to look at me. And then I recalled all the speeches he’d ever given me, and all the motivational things he’d ever said, and the fact that he’d never let me quit or stop when something big was on the line.

“Ethan Sullivan. You are four hundred years old, killed and resurrected twice. You are stronger than she is. Fight back. Do not let a self-centered sorceress bring you to your knees.”

He tried to look away, but I held his chin tight, red welts
appearing beneath my fingers. I’d been a vampire for less than a year, but I was a strong one. Might as well show it off for a good cause.

It worked: When his gaze found mine again, there was fury there. His eyes had changed from emerald green to molten silver, and he clearly wasn’t pleased with my attempt at an intervention.

“Watch your tone, Sentinel.”

Mimicking him perfectly, I arched a single eyebrow. “You watch your tone, Sullivan. You will not allow a child to make you weak. She is no vampire. She is no predator. She is a
witch
.”

There was a rumble deep in his throat. He was getting pissed, so I knew I was on the right track. It was just a matter of making him remember what he was.

“You are a vampire,” I repeated. “A predator among predators. A creature of deep nights and full moons. But you have learned to survive in an urban environment. You have learned to block out the sensations you don’t need. Mallory is one of those sensations. The feelings aren’t yours—they’re hers. So suck it up, and block them out.”

He shivered as he fought for control, trying desperately to separate what he felt from what she felt.

I saw the moment Ethan’s control kicked in—his eyes flashed back to green shards of ice.

“Thank you,” he quietly said, unusually still with the effort of keeping her angst in check.

“You’re welcome.”

We looked at each other for a moment, and something passed between us. Something new. For months, I’d been comforted by others, and now I was comforting him…at least until a sharp pain radiated from my shin.

“Ow!” I yelped, instinctively looking down—and staring in shock.

There, at my feet, tapping his foot impatiently, stood a brightly uniformed…Well, he looked like a garden gnome. White cap. Stumpy shoes. Long beard. Red pants and green shirt. Just like the kind you’d see in someone’s backyard. Except for the sulking. Which he was clearly doing.

“If you two are done with all the lovey-dovey crap,” he said, “can we get down to business?”

“Well,” Ethan said, eyebrow arched at the man at our feet. “I did not expect that.”

I
could hardly form words. “Are you—you’re a—”

“Gnome, yes. Clearly.
Obviously
.” He sighed with obvious irritation. “Let’s go.”

“Go where, exactly?” Ethan asked.

The gnome rolled his eyes and dropped his shoulders dramatically. “You’re here to help take care of the witch. We’re here to help take care of the witch. And the witch is clearly brewing something up, so we need to take our positions and prepare to kick her ass.”

Okay, the gnome had a potty mouth. Which was an odd juxtaposition.

“Wait,” Ethan said, holding up a hand. “Paige made you to help her guard the book?”

His lip curled in anger, the gnome tottered forward and kicked Ethan in the shin.

Ethan spewed out a curse, but he had it coming.

“No one
made
me, bloodsucker. I am what I am. We help Paige only because we don’t want the world to go completely crazy just
because some stuck-up Chicago sorceress can’t mind her own business. I don’t especially like sorceresses; they don’t get me. Much like vampires.” Then he muttered something under his breath about vampires and arrogance and our being “basically really big mosquitoes.”

“Okay,” I said, “let’s all calm down.” I looked down at the gnome. “I’m sorry for the confusion. We weren’t aware you were working with Paige. And we didn’t catch your name?”

One eye squinted closed, he looked me over, gauging my trustworthiness. “My name is Todd.”

Not the type of name I would have expected for a gnome, but fine all the same. “Todd, I’m Merit, and this is Ethan.”

“Nice to meet you. Now that we’re all buddy-buddy, we should probably deal with that.”

“With what?” Ethan asked.

Todd pointed across the pasture. The scattering of clouds above the field had turned blue, and they were swirling with a speed that wasn’t natural.

I’d once joked with Jonah that we’d find the source of the city’s magical drama when we found the giant sucking tornado that marked the spot. I must have been right.

“Is she controlling the weather now?” I wondered aloud.

“It’s not a real tornado,” Todd said. “It’s magic.”

Visible magic, just like Tate could do, which did not make me feel any better.

Ethan winced, squeezing his hands closed as, I assumed, he battled Mallory back mentally.

“You okay?” I asked him.

“I’ll manage,” he said, but as a harsh, magical wind that smelled of smoke and sulfur began to pour across the land, I wasn’t exactly confident he was going to stay that way.

I looked down at our new ally. “What’s the plan, Todd?”

Todd adjusted his small, conical hat. “We stop this. There are more of us than there are of her.”

His confidence was surprising…and not entirely believable. I couldn’t imagine the three of us were going to be much of a match against a woman who had the power to move heaven and earth.

“Three to one aren’t great odds,” I said.

Todd laughed mirthlessly. “No, but they aren’t the correct odds, either. Guys?”

The forest floor erupted into a carpet of gnomes. They emerged from open splits in nearby trees and what looked like burrows in the ground, and spilled out around us, probably a hundred in all, all in the same primary-colored uniforms and white caps, long beards extending nearly to their belts.

The ground looked like the overstock aisle at a garden accessory store.

Todd put his fingers between his lips and made an ear-shattering whistle. Like troops before a flag, they gathered to attention.

“The witch is nearly here,” he said, “and we know what she’s going for.”

The gnomes nodded in agreement, and there were whispers of “the book” across the sea of them.

“Across the woods and stream is the door to the silo,” Todd said. “She must not reach it or the book. She must not cross the stream. We cannot allow it, or for the evil to fly across the land again.”

Todd pointed at a gnome who was wearing a particularly garish pair of plaid pants. “Keith, take the left flank. Mort, take your crew down the right. Frank will cross the stream and keep an eye on the rear, and I’ll lead my crew head-on.”

Those orders given, Todd began discussing specific strategies with his troops. It was an amazing thing to behold, and I was ashamed I’d doubted him and assumed he was any less of a soldier because of his stature. He ordered his troops around with the aplomb of a seasoned general and the adeptness of an expert tactician.

Unfortunately, not even Todd was entirely sure what Mallory would do—and I wasn’t, either. I knew she could work a spell, and I knew she could throw orbs of magic that hurt like hell when they made contact. (I’d had orb-avoidance training with Catcher.) We all knew what she wanted, and we knew she was intent on doing whatever it took to get it, regardless of how many people she hurt along the way.

When the gnomes began to take their positions, I looked to Todd. “What do you want us to do?”

“What can you do?” He didn’t sound confident he’d be impressed by my answer.

I tapped the pommel of my sword. “We’re both good with steel. Also, I know her. I could help with distraction.”

“How so?”

I looked around. “If the goal is keeping her on this side of the trees, maybe I can distract her so your troops can surround her? It might help your flanks get better position.”

“That’s not a horrible idea,” Todd said, but Ethan wasn’t impressed.

“You will not use yourself as bait,” he gritted out.

I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, but he probably wasn’t too far off base. And I knew he meant it protectively, but my safety was secondary. Our first—and only—priority was keeping Mallory away from the
Maleficium
.

I faced Ethan. “I still stand Sentinel of Cadogan House,” I reminded him. “I’ll do what it takes to keep you safe.”

“Merit—”

“Ethan,” I quietly, but sternly, interrupted. “
I
have to do this, and you know it. I can’t stand around and let other people fight this battle for me. I have more honor than that. You wouldn’t have let me stand Sentinel otherwise.” But was it honorable? I was helping set up my best friend for an ambush. Sure, I wanted to throttle her and scream at her, but I didn’t want her hurt.

“How exactly are you going to stop her?” I asked Todd.

“We’re gnomes,” he said. “Skilled warriors.”

“Could you not kill her? Please?”

Todd blinked at me, that simple action showing me exactly how stupid he thought that was. “We’re gnomes, not humans.” He cast a telling glance at the sword at my side. “Our goal is to keep her out of the silo, not put her in the ground. If we best her, she’ll have no choice but to submit to us. It’s a rule of civilized combat.”

It might be a rule of civilized combat, but I seriously doubted Mallory had taken any classes in that.

Our roles decided, Todd joined his company of troops, and they began to take their positions. Their departure left Ethan and me alone. It took a moment of courage before I could look back at him. I hadn’t exactly given him a chance to speak his piece.

It went pretty much as poorly as I’d expected. His eyes were glassy green, and magic rolled off his body like an angry tide.

I knew he wasn’t angry at me, not really. He was afraid. Afraid that I’d be injured, or that I’d sacrifice myself to save Mallory. I couldn’t eliminate his fear, and I couldn’t prevent the violence that would likely come to pass, but maybe I could remind him that he’d prepared me for it.

“You know, you’re the one who trained me to stand Sentinel. To be a warrior. At some point, you have to trust that I was paying
attention.” My tone was lighthearted, and it was precisely the wrong course.

He grabbed my arm—hard. And in his eyes was a sudden storm of fear and anger. “You will not sacrifice yourself because of her.”

I could all but see his temper rise. Was this about Mallory? The overflow of her magic?

My arm ached beneath his fingers. “I don’t have any intention of doing that,” I assured him, wiggling my arm to free myself. But he wouldn’t budge. His fingers tightened.

“Distract her if you must, but let them bring her down. This isn’t your fight. It’s hers, and she has enough to answer for without adding your name to the rolls.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised. “Now relax and let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”

His eyes widened, and he froze, then pulled his hand back and stared at me, horror in his eyes. “My God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I rubbed my arm absently.

He looked at me and opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late for more words.

“The eagle has landed,” called out one of the gnomes.

It was like something from
The Wizard of Oz
. Out of the swirling clouds dropped a giant glowing orb as large as a compact car. It rotated and split open in a flash of light, and just like a good witch, Mallory stepped into the Midwest.

But there were no coiffed curls or magic wand or glittering gown in this story. In fact, I barely recognized her. She looked awful, and an awful lot like an addict in the throes of a bad craving. I’m not sure what the Order had done or what she’d been through since she left, but she seemed to look even worse than she had the
last time I’d seen her. Thinner and sadder. Her hair, once blue, had lost its color and luster. It now hung blond and limp at her shoulders. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her cheeks looked gaunt.

But her appearance didn’t faze the gnomes. It took only a second for them to launch their attack. As the cows scattered to the other side of the pasture, they revealed long wooden bows and began showering Mallory with a spray of feathered arrows.

I winced on her behalf but shouldn’t have wasted the effort. She might not have looked her best, but the girl had undeniable skills. She threw out a volley of magical sparks that incinerated the arrows on contact. The air glowed like the Fourth of July…if it had commemorated a battle against a self-interested witch.