Blood Winter (11 page)

Thor yanked what was left of the windshield out and swept the safety glass off the seats. He then piled a selection of the food Magpie had sent with them into the front seat.

In the meantime, Alexander drained the jug of Ugly Juice. Almost immediately, he could feel his body putting the calories to work, fueling his healing spells. Whatever disgusting ingredients Magpie put into the syrupy juice, it had a lot of calories. And probably some magic, given that she was also a Circle-level witch.

Thor climbed into the driver’s seat and examined Alexander. “You don’t look so good.”

“I expect I feel worse than I look. Cannot seem to catch my breath. My head feels like I fell on an anvil.”

“It’s looking a little dented, too. You going to be all right?”

“Sooner or later. Better get driving. The Grims are getting to the edge of my sensory range. We are going to lose them soon.”

Thor drove around the crater left by the rock troll and cruised down toward the bridge.

“Fuck.”

Alexander had leaned the seat back and closed his eyes. Now he sat up, sucking a pained breath through his teeth. “What?” But then he saw the slow-swirling cloud of red dust centered over the twitching pieces of the rock troll. The stones of its body started to roll together and take troll shape again.

“Floor it,” Alexander said just as Thor jammed the gas pedal all the way down. The truck fishtailed and practically flew over the bridge and up the road. They hit a hundred miles an hour, and the speedometer pegged out. The truck still accelerated. Thank the witches for magic.

“That was the same red dust that attacked Max in the angel vault, wasn’t it?” Thor asked, watching out his sideview mirror.

“Looked like it. But how did it get out here?” Alexander lifted his hand to rub his throbbing head and instantly regretted it. Pain enveloped him in a fiery cocoon. He dropped his hand back into his lap.

“Can only mean the preacher witch is after us. But why?” Thor mused.

“Why break into Horngate and burn five innocent people on our doorstep? Who knows what he’s up to.”

“Apparently he’s nuttier than a squirrel’s cheeks in October.”

“Let us hope he is done with us,” Alexander said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“I don’t know, son. That sort of crazy tends to stay focused. He seems to have a hate-on for witches. Maybe he figures we’re just as bad. At least if he’s after us, he’s not likely to be harrassing anybody back at Horngate. That would take a lot more energy than he’s likely to have.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Alexander murmured. He didn’t like to think what could be happening to Max if she caught the preacher witch’s attention. “How do you suppose a witch comes to want to burn up his own kind? I mean, fighting over territory I get. But he is anti-witch.”

Thor shrugged. “How are there gay Republicans? Some people don’t make a whole lot of sense.”

They slowed down in Wisdom just enough to make the turn south toward Jackson before speeding up again. Lights flickered in a scattering of houses and the smell of woodsmoke drifted through the air. What looked like a dark, lush jungle swathed the foothills of the Pioneers for as far as Alexander could see. The trees were squat and broad, and . . .

“Thor,” Alexander said warningly.

“I see ’em,” the blond Blade said grimly, his hands flexing on the steering wheel.

The trees had begun crawling toward them. Their roots roped and twisted over the ground like giant knotty snakes. Streamers of red wreathed their branches.

“We left that rock troll in the dust. How the hell does the preacher know where we are?”

“Maybe he can scry us,” Alexander said. “But that does not explain how he is casting spells over such distances. Unless he is a lot more powerful than we thought.”

Thor glanced sharply at him. “Are you thinking he’s a mage?”

“I am thinking we had better find out how he is managing to cast magic like this. But first, I think we should survive. I would sure like to know why he is so interested in what we are doing tonight.”

The trees rippled over the ground with incredible speed. Thor swerved around reaching roots. “They don’t seem to like the road,” he said. “It’s like it burns them.”

That was all the notice he gave before driving off onto the shoulder to put the road between the truck and the attacking trees. They jolted hard over the clumps of grass, piled rocks, and rutted dirt.

Alexander bounced up against the roof as the truck flew into the air, then dropped back to the ground. Thor ran through the barbed-wire fence and out into the field beside the road.

“That did it,” he said, slowing slightly. “They aren’t crossing.”

Alexander did not answer. He gripped the door handle with white-knuckled fingers. The plastic cracked under his grip. His skull had struck the roof in the same place he had smashed it previously. Blood dribbled down his forehead. His vision had gone snowy, like static on a TV.

“Oh, hell,” Thor said, hitting the accelerator again. “They are burrowing under.”

A moan rose in the night, a high-pitched sound drenched in fury and pain. The truck jolted and bounced over the uneven ground of the open field. Thor crashed through another fence, and metal screeched as the barbs scraped the body of the truck. They jolted through a ditch, over a dirt road, and back into a field. Thor swerved around sagebrush and outcroppings of rock.

Alexander was tossed and jolted, banging around in his seat. Once he almost bounced through the open front windshield. Thor grabbed him and yanked him back down. Then everything went black.

When he awoke, he was still in his seat. Thor had reclined it as far back as it would go and was smearing a cold healing salve on his head. Alexander batted him away and sat up with a groan.

“I am fine,” he said. “I do not need a nurse.”

“Right. I figured when your brain started oozing out of your ears that you were just having a quick nap.”

Alexander gave a weak grin. His head was spinning, and his stomach was churning in response. “You are exaggerating.”

“Not by much. I wasn’t particularly sure you were going to wake up.” Thor’s jaw was tense, and behind the taut mask of his face, his Blade was in a frenzy. Before Alexander could speak, he shoved another jug of Ugly Juice at him. “Drink.”

Alexander did not argue. He gulped down the noxious brew and then ate the food that Thor supplied. After about fifteen minutes, his vision settled, and he felt the bones in his skull hardening in place. The pain remained, but it was more bearable.

He pushed up out of the truck and glanced around. They were out in the middle of a field beside a winding creek and surrounded by willows. The road and the predatory forest were nowhere to be seen. “What happened?”

“The road, mostly. The trees burrowed their roots under, but they couldn’t get that far. Eventually, they gave up. Or the preacher witch ran out of magic.”

“I doubt that,” Alexander said. “More likely, he got distracted.”

“I don’t want to think about what might have got his attention,” Thor said darkly.

Alexander nodded. He could call Max and check in, but she already thought he was too possessive. He would let her tell him when she wanted him.
If
she wanted him. He could do little to help her right at the moment, if she needed help.

“All the same, the preacher witch seems a little too interested in us. What do you suppose we did to deserve that?” Thor asked.

Alexander deliberately turned his attention away from Max. “Maybe he does not want us following the Grims.”

“Why not?”

Alexander shrugged. He had no answers to that question. He let his senses range outward and discovered the Grims much closer than he had expected. And not just them but other beings in brilliant shades of violet, scarlet, yellow, and orange. The salamanders? A wild flare of magic blossomed around them, sending out pulsing ripples of distorting energy.

Alexander took a few steps away from the truck. His legs were wobbly, but his ankle held. His ribs felt rubbery but whole. His rolled his shoulder to test it. It ached and made crackling noises. Good enough.

“We should go,” he said to Thor.

The other man eyed him dubiously. “You aren’t fit.”

“Maybe not, but we only have a few hours before dawn. Who knows where they will disappear to if we wait out the day? Besides, the faster we get this over with and get back home, the less likely the preacher witch will remember to kill us.”

“I hate being on his to-do list,” Thor grumbled. “All right. But you’re barely stitched up. One light blow, and you’ll shatter. We’ll go to the Grims, but we’re not hopping into any unnecessary trouble.”

“Is what we do ever unnecessary?” Alexander asked as he slid back into the truck and adjusted the seat back upright.

“You sound just like Max,” Thor said, sliding in beside him. “Her attitude is catching. Just like a bad flu. Just remember, you’re not in any better shape right now than an ordinary human. Maybe worse. So don’t be stupid. I just hope stupidity isn’t catching, too,” he muttered under his breath.

Alexander smiled and shut his eyes, gripping the sides of the seat hard as the truck started rolling over the field. Thor went slowly enough to make the jouncing less painful, but it was still agonizing. Still, every passing moment provided healing to his body. But Thor was right. Even when they traversed the twenty miles or so to get to the Grims, he was not going to be in any shape to fight.

THOR KEPT TO THE FIELDS, SLOWLY ANGLING EAST BACK
to the road and keeping a watchful eye on the unmoving forest.

The closer they got to Jackson and the Grims, the hotter it was getting. It had to be at least a hundred twenty degrees. Heat distorted the air, making everything in sight ripple.

Thor pulled to a stop on flat dirt just before the road. He got out and knelt down beside it, then leaned back through the window. “The tar is soft as taffy. We’ll get stuck on it. I say we leave the truck here, or we chance having the rubber melt off the tires.” He glanced down and back up. “We may be riding back on the rims at this point, anyway.”

Alexander got out. He no longer felt as dizzy. His shoulder still crackled as the bones settled back together, but otherwise he felt whole. Fragile as glass but whole.

Shadowblades were made to tolerate extreme heat and cold—within reason. Fire would burn them, of course, and they would eventually freeze solid. Hopefully the heat coming out of Jackson would not be so significant that they would have to turn back.

They left their guns in the truck, as they both feared exploding ammunition. They followed the road, staying beside it. The terrain was mostly flat. Jackson nestled up against the foothills of the Pioneers in a long, narrow valley.

The heat increased as they approached the town. It was entirely deserted. The buildings were dried and cracked as if they’d been cooked in an oven. It felt like an oven. Alexander found it hard to breathe the hot, dry air. The magic there was dense. It was like pushing through molasses. Every step was increasingly difficult. The closer they came to the Grims and the source of the magic, the thicker the magic became.

He stopped as they came abreast of a barnlike building. Or what had once been a building. The roof had fallen in, and the walls sagged apart. Around it were little cabins that had collapsed into kindling. The trees were rusty and skeletal, their needles in dry piles on the ground. Next to the big building were the remains of what appeared to be a swimming pool. It was cracked and buckled, along with the ground around it.

“That way,” Alexander said, pointing.

He and Thor jumped over the road and slogged past the pool. Beyond was a hillside of crisped grass and scrub. The ground crunched beneath their feet. Heat pulsed through the air and rose from the dirt. The soles of Alexander’s boots grew sticky and soft and clumped with dirt and weeds.

They were close. The Grims were just beyond the crown of the hill, and so was the source of the magic and what Alexander assumed were salamanders. The Grims seemed to be arrayed along the hillside, watching. Spike was with them.

The two Blades staggered up the hill, fighting to breathe. Alexander’s strength was quickly sapping. He straightened his spine, refusing to let Thor see his struggle.

They both stopped dead at the crown of the hill as a wall of heat slammed into them. Alexander could feel the moisture leaching from his body tissues like water from a sieve. He instantly felt parched as desert sand. He and Thor could only take a few minutes of that heat before they had to retreat.

The Grims sat watchfully in a semicircle just below the two Blades. Spike was nestled against Beyul, and she whimpered low in her throat. Beyul nuzzled her, and she subsided.

Below the Grims was a crack in the earth. It was a hundred feet long and fifteen feet wide at its broadest point. Brilliant rainbow-colored flames rose out of it, and the rock on either side glowed orange. Within those flames, serpentine beasts crawled. Alexander counted nine of them. Each was a different jeweled color. They were six or seven feet long, with four short, stout legs. Their tails were as long as their bodies, and their snouts were narrow and toothy.

They crawled in and out of the crack, their stubby wings fluttering for balance. A green one snapped at a yellow one, and a snarling spat ensued, both losing their grip on the rock and plummeting down inside. A few moments later, they crawled back out.

“How far down do you think that crack goes?” Thor whispered, his voice dry as dust.

“Forever,” Alexander replied, not altogether joking. “That is elemental fire, not center-of-the-earth fire. It will not only melt the flesh from your bones, but it will also destroy your essence.”

“Good to know. As it is, I’m turning into jerky even as we speak. What do you want to do now?”

“I do not think the Grims are coming back until they are done watching or . . . whatevering.”

“We can’t wait with them. We’ll mummify. Hell, you’re already halfway there,” Thor said, looking Alexander over. “C’mon. We’re leaving. Now.”

Alexander hesitated, then nodded. He sent a mind call out to Beyul, asking if the beast would come back to Horngate. The Grim neither answered nor looked at him. The animals were entirely independent; they went where they wanted when they wanted, and even the angels were wary of them. Nobody knew why they chose to do what they did—such as staying at Horngate for the past five or six weeks. Were they moving on now?