Blood Winter (23 page)

“What is it?” Thor asked as the four stopped outside the curls and twists of the thing on the ground. “Is it a spell, or is it alive?”

Alexander had no answer. Max knelt and flipped out a knife. She prodded a gleaming tendril, and magic exploded. She flew backward, landing a good twenty feet away. She hoisted herself to her feet and returned.

“Well, whatever it is, it didn’t like that,” she said, dusting herself off. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her breathing was wet, as if she’d broken a rib and it had punctured a lung.

“Got any ideas?” Alexander asked.

“I think we should get Gregory out of there before it kills him and us. And hope we all don’t die, anyway,” she said, cracking her knuckles absently.

“We could call Giselle.”

“She’s already on her way into town, but she’ll never get here in time to help him. Gregory’s giving all he’s got. He’s not going to last long. I doubt I could get into the abyss and back with her in time.”

In fact, the gaunt witch was caught up in an intense struggle. From his expression, it was clear he was fighting for his life. His magic flared white, creating a thin shell around him. Veins of green magic flickered within it, coalescing into knots and then spreading like roots. It held the twisting blue vines away from him, but the pattern on the ground was growing more dense and condensing. Its edges were starting to lift, as if it intended to close around Gregory and swallow him.

“So we go get him,” Alexander said, his body tensing.

“Are we going in with a plan?” Tyler asked. “Or are we just going balls to the wall and hope it works out?”

The corner of Max’s mouth crooked up, and she shook her head, her gaze locked on the tableau in front of them. “We’re going to wing it. I’ll jump over to Gregory—my unlocking spells should drop me through his shields without damaging them. Then I’ll jump him out. You three try to distract the creature or spell or whatever the fuck it is.”

She did not wait for a response but launched instantly into the air. Alexander drew two of his knives and followed, slicing the blades through the dirt and dragging them through the writhing ropes of blue as he went. He did not get far. Magic seared him. It was like stepping on a land mine. He was thrust backward like he had been shot from a cannon, landing on his back. The air exploded from his chest, and his vision went black as his head slammed against the ground.

Luckily, the snow cushioned his fall enough that his skull did not shatter. He rolled to his stomach and lunged to his feet. He raced back. Tyler and Thor had done better. Thor was flinging a salt, herb, and metal mixture over the vine pattern, while Tyler jabbed at it with his knives. The pattern twitched and rippled in response, then snapped upward, knotting into a ball where Gregory had been standing just a few moments before.

Max and the witch were a hundred yards north and heading east as fast as she could run. The other three Blades followed. The snow was falling again, but magic swelled livid and angry behind them.

“Faster,” Alexander called sharply.

They overtook Max. Her body was a mass of scarlet burns. Most of her clothes had been charred away. She was carrying Gregory in her arms, but it was a struggle. The witch was awake, though clearly exhausted and weak. He was arguing with her to put him down.

Alexander slowed long enough to snatch the witch and toss him over his shoulder. Tyler had already swung Max up piggyback, and they ran as fast as they could.

They found themselves in an open area. The ground was tumbled and scrubby with sage and weeds poking up through the snow. The place had been used as a gravel pit, for dirt-bike riding, and likely for dumping trash and getting high. Thor led the way toward a tall mound of dirt and gravel, now covered with snow. He circled around to the other side and dropped down into a steep trench. The others jumped down beside him.

Alexander kicked aside snow until he found dirt and lowered Gregory down. Instantly, he turned to Max. She was on her knees, pulling snow up over her melted flesh. He made a harsh whining sound, stretching out for her, stopping when she flashed a look at him. Her eyelids were gone and most of her nose. Her hair was a matted black cap plastered to her skull. Her fingers were blackened stubs, and her skin looked like melted wax.

His hands dropped, and he swallowed bile. His Prime raged, clawing, shredding at his insides.

Thor had turned and was quietly retching. Tyler was swearing, his face white. Gregory was struggling to stand.

“Let me—” he began, and got no further.

A scouring blast of magic swept across them like the shock wave of a nuclear bomb. It brought with it a wind that rushed past with all the fury of a superheated tornado. Alexander pushed Max down into the snow and huddled over her to protect her. Tyler added his bulk to shielding her.

Alexander felt her body quivering. Helplessness strangled him, and he struggled to keep his Prime from overwhelming his mind. He was constantly fighting for dominance, to keep from sliding over the edge and disappearing entirely into his beast. He had thought he had gained mastery, or at least equilibrium, but when it came to his feelings for Max, all bets were off.

The snow in the trench melted instantly, leaving them in pools of tepid water and squelching mud. Gravel pelted them in a stinging hail. Then, just as quickly, the wind stopped, and the air dropped to well below zero. The water skimmed with a skin of ice. The temperature continued to drop. Thor wrapped Gregory in a hug, pulling the witch tightly against him to keep him warm.

Alexander hesitated. Ordinarily, Max’s spells protected her body from the temperature. But she’d been badly hurt, and all of her energy was going into healing. He did not know if she could handle the still-dropping cold. She made his mind up for him when her teeth chattered and then stopped suddenly, as if she had clamped her jaws tight.

He pushed Tyler away and sat down on the ice, pulling Max’s ruined body onto his lap. He did his best to ignore her soft mewls of pain, although the sounds raked his Prime and sent his mind spinning with torment and rage. Sterling was going to pay dearly for doing this to her.

He tore off his vest and held her against the warmth of his chest.

“Easy,” he whispered against her crisp, melted hair. “I have you. Easy.”

He reached out and fumbled inside one of the pockets of his vest, pulling out his silver emergency sack. He pulled it around her. It acted as a blanket, reflecting heat back onto her. Tyler crouched on the other side of her, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he could only watch helplessly.

She quivered. The temperature continued to drop, and the snow swallowed the world again. The stench of the Divine penetrated everywhere: a caustic, sweet miasma that filled Alexander’s lungs like cold oil. Once again, the magical blast had burned out his ability to sense far. Only this time, it was worse. It was like the brilliant splotches left behind after staring into a bright light. Odd blurs and smears of ghostly magic swam across the landscape, and he could not tell real from false. He might as well be wearing a burlap sack on his head.

He listened intently, but the snow muffled all sounds. He shifted Max, trying to get his feet under him in case they were attacked, but she made a mewling sound that cut through him like a sword, and he stopped dead.

“Give me some power bars.”

Tyler grappled in his vest and fished out a couple of bars. He tore one open with his teeth, and Alexander took it and put it to Max’s mouth. “Eat,” he ordered.

She forced her jaws to open and bit down, chewing slowly. She swallowed hard and took another bite. He fed her both bars. Before he could take the next from Tyler, the cold snapped.

It was an audible sound, like the crack of a whip. It echoed from the mountains. Instantly, the bitter cold lifted, and warmth flowed down into the trench.

“About time,” Thor said, and then Alexander heard him and Gregory moving. The witch staggered over. He was crusted in ice. He knelt down beside Alexander and pushed his hands under the silver emergency sack.

Magic seeped into the air. This time, Alexander recognized it as belonging to Gregory: a green flavor with hints of cayenne, honey, and hemlock.

A warm white glow like moonlight on water streamed down his arms. Max made a gasping sound, her body jerking. Alexander’s arms clamped down, and she whimpered. He forced himself to loosen his grip. His vision went entirely gray, as if the world was a landscape of the dead. His Prime was scrabbling at the bindings of his control.

No,
he told himself.
No.
Gregory would heal Max. She would be all right.

But how long before she is not? How long before death finds her?
It would, he knew. Her life was a never-ending war, and she was always at the forefront of every battle. She would never be safe; she would never hold back. He could never keep her from harm.

Bile flooded his throat as his stomach twisted sharply. He felt a mixture of self-disgust and utter impotence. They clawed at him like twin lions, shredding him from within, ripping at the seams of his fragile control. If they kept up, one day soon, he would simply vanish, and all that would be left was the beast within. That beast was bloodthirsty, ruthless, and brutal. The only way to stop him would be to kill him.

A feral Prime was not easy to kill.

His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. He had foolishly thought he had found a balance. But every time something like this happened, he felt his human side thinning as the Shadowblade Prime took greater control of his divided soul. This time, Alexander would win. But next time—

H
EALING MAGIC SUFFUSED MAX WITH STUNNING
heat. It flowed through her body and wrapped her skin in a silken cocoon. It soothed her nerves, and the pain slowly melted into something more bearable.

She let it go on longer than she should have, reveling in the combination of being in Alexander’s embrace and the nearly orgasmic pleasure of evaporating pain. But Gregory was wasting himself. She pushed him away. “Save your strength,” she rasped. “I’m okay.”

“It’s my fault,” he muttered, grasping her again. “This shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know where I was going. One minute I was in the shack, and then I needed to go, to follow the path.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “It was Sterling. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. So back off, already.”

Thor pulled him back and put his emergency silver sack around the witch’s shoulders. “She’s crabby,” he pointed out reassuringly. “It’s a sure sign she’s going to be fine. Come on over here, and squat down for a minute and get yourself defrosted. Let’s see if I can find us the makings for a fire.”

“I’ll go, too,” Tyler said, and leaped out of the trench.

Thor settled Gregory and then followed. The two returned a few minutes later, and before long, they had a small fire going. In the meantime, Max found herself relaxing against Alexander’s chest. His heart beat fast beneath his ribs, and his body was coiled tightly, although his arms were slack around her hips.

She pushed herself away slightly so that she could look at him. He stared past her, his face carved in an iron mask. His eyes were pearl white. A snake of ice wriggled down her spine.

“Alexander?” she asked carefully.

His gaze flicked to her, quick as a cobra strike.

“You okay?” she asked. If he was really feral, if he had really lost his mind to his Blade, he wasn’t acting like it.

He blinked. “I am fine,” he said, and then heaved himself up, lifting Max with him. He set her on her feet before stepping back. “I am fine,” he repeated, and then jumped out of the trench and vanished into the snow.

Max stared after him, then forced herself to turn away. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, tasting blood. How was she going to fix this?

The silver sack crinkled as she turned, and she looked down at herself. Her clothes were charred scraps of nothing. The soles of her boots had melted to her feet; the rest of her boots were gone. Her skin was still puckered and red, with a few shrinking blistered and black patches. Why was it she kept ending up naked? And never having any fun getting that way? It was damned unfair.

She bent and peeled away the remnants of her boots and brushed off what was left of her clothes. She examined her arms ruefully. Her favorite knives were gone. She had a feeling only Tyler would sympathize with that.

Alexander had left his vest. She picked it up and fished out his supply of power bars and ate them. Next, she took out his cell phone. Hers was gone with all the rest of her stuff. She flipped it open and punched in Giselle’s number. Nothing. It wasn’t working. She wasn’t all that surprised. The magical blast had been extraordinary. She would have been more surprised if the phone was still working.

She slid the phone back into its pocket and turned to her companions. Gregory was hunched over the small fire, Thor’s silver sack around his shoulders collecting and reflecting the heat back on him. His head hung low.

Max tightened her silver sack around herself, so that Gregory wouldn’t have to blush when he looked at her, and crouched down opposite him. “What exactly happened back there?”