Crimson Wind (2 page)

But logic was cold comfort when she remembered their charred and mangled bodies. She bit her cheek, tasting blood. Enough. They were dead. It was her fault. The end. She didn’t get to feel sorry because she fucked up. She had to do better next time—train harder.

She turned up the steps, bounding up them five at a time, her stomach still churning. She skimmed through the mountain fortress corridors like a shadow. Gravel still littered the floor, and dust hazed the air, despite the cleaning effort of the last four weeks.

She heard footsteps ahead and ducked into a side passage. Her nose told her it was Magpie before the witch appeared. Her long blue-black hair was streaked white on each side of her face, giving her her nickname. She was a witch of minor power and a great cook, unless you pissed her off, and then you’d be eating inedible food for as long as she had her panties in a wad.

She passed Max without turning her head, her body stiff. Her eyes were fixed and staring, and they had gone entirely white. Max eased back out into the corridor, a chill running down her back all the way to her heels. She’d seen Magpie look like that only once, just before she’d made a true prophecy meant only for Max. Now she was headed back in the direction of the Shadowblade apartments. Who was she looking for? Not Max. Magpie would have found her if so. So who?

Max twitched as if to follow, then caught herself. She drew a breath. No. Following might keep Magpie from speaking the prophecy, and that could be disastrous.

She swung around. She’d worry about it later. For now, she had an appointment with a homicidal godlet.

She kept to the more unused corridors, many of which remained partially blocked from the attack four weeks ago. She turned down one and was caught by the shine of white light coming from ahead. It grew brighter as she drew closer, but didn’t bother her eyes. Witchlight, then. Sunlight and even some artificial light blinded her, but not witchlight.

She turned a corner and stopped at the bottom of a heap of stone. The light flared like a lighthouse beacon through an opening at the top. Max leaped up and through, quick and silent as a panther. She dropped to a crouch on the other side, gravel crunching beneath her feet.

In front of her was an angel, his back to her, his legs braced wide. He wore black leather jeans and a leather vest cut to allow his silver wings to emerge. They swept upward over his head, each metallic feather shining with razor edges. Black hair cascaded down to his shoulders in sharp contrast to his marble-white skin. He was beautiful, every muscle looking like it was chiseled from stone. The point of a massive sword rose four feet above his head. Its unearthly metal was sheathed in incandescent witchlight.

Suddenly the light winked out, and Tutresiel’s wings snapped shut with a musical chiming sound. He turned. The sword was gone, vanished into thin air. His red eyes gleamed, and his mouth twisted in irritation.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep this time of day?”

Max rose to her feet. The angel was one of the most beautiful and deadly creatures she’d ever seen. He stood nearly six and a half feet tall, with an aura that screamed danger. If he wanted, he could shred her with one swipe of his wings. Not that she’d make it that easy for him.

“Yep,” she said.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Passing through,” she said unhelpfully.

His gaze ran over her from head to toe. His lip curled. “You look like shit.”

She couldn’t help her grin. She liked Tutresiel. He was an ass and a jerk, but he was honest, and you always knew where you stood with him. Everybody else didn’t trust him at all, but he was as true to his nature as the scorpion in the fable, and if he stung you, then you deserved it for being stupid.

“Aren’t you a bright ray of sunshine. Did some bully on the playground push you into the mud and steal your candy?”

The corner of his mouth twitched unwillingly. “Sounds like you got up on the wrong side of the bed. Or maybe you just need to get laid.”

Her brows rose. “You offering?”

He looked her over again. “I don’t fuck corpses.”

“I’m not dead yet,” Max said, her grin widening. “But check back in an hour. Things change.”

His eyes narrowed as his mood shifted into hunt mode. “What does that mean?”

Max sighed and shook her head. Talk about loose lips. She needed to pull her head out of her ass and get her shit together before someone—namely herself—got killed. “Nothing for you to worry about, kitten. Go back to doing your yoga.”

“Kitten?” He snorted, then folded his arms as she started around him, his wings still blocking most of the passage.

She stopped, tipping her head thoughtfully as an idea struck her. “You don’t like me much, do you?”

He smiled, and it was as cold as arctic ice. “Don’t take it personally. I don’t like anyone, though you’re better than most around here.”

“Good. Then I need to tell you something.”

He looked surprised. “Secrets? Are we going to braid each other’s hair and have a slumber party, too?” His gaze ran over her again. “No offense, but even if I was a necrophiliac, I’d break you in half.”

His smile turned wolfish, and Max shivered with something close to desire.
Holy mother of fuck
. She did need to get laid if
he
was turning her on.

Max rolled her eyes at him. “Get over yourself, chicken boy. I’m going to go down into the vault to see Scooter. He’s the creature that’s been trying to kill me for the last couple of weeks, and there’s a decent chance he’s going to finish the job. If I don’t come back, mention it to Giselle, would you?”

She didn’t give him a chance to answer, but swung into a quick walk. Her compulsion spells stitched fire through every cell of her body. She shook with the effort of walking, but forced herself to keep going. She turned her head in surprise as Tutresiel fell into step beside her. He was scowling.

“You aren’t telling Giselle what you’re up to?”

She shook her head. “No one but you, kitten.”

“Why tell me?”

“Because you don’t care enough about me to try to stop me, and I should tell someone, if only so they don’t waste time and magic looking for me.”

“Very noble.”

She snorted. “It’s the job. Nothing noble about it.”

He said no more, but continued to pace along beside her. His razor-sharp feathers clanked lightly together.

Max frowned at him. “Going somewhere?”

“With you.”

“What for?”

He glanced down at her. “I was wrong.”

“What about?”

“Turns out I like you more than I thought.”

“Sort of the way a crocodile likes a wildebeest. Feeling hungry?”

He stopped and grabbed her arm, pulling her around to face him. His brow was furrowed with genuine confusion. “Why don’t you send me or Xaphan in to face this creature?”

Xaphan was a fire angel and as powerful and deadly as Tutresiel. She shrugged. “Not your problem. Besides, Scooter would probably swat you both like flies.”

“I’m a hundred times more powerful than you. If this creature will swat me, then what will he do to you?”

“Like I said, that’s my problem, not yours. Scooter wants me. If I send you in there, he’ll kill you, and I’ll still be on the hook. It’s stupid and a waste.”

“It could be Xaphan and I could weaken him so that you stand a better chance.” His crimson gaze was fixed on her, pinning her in place.

Max felt the predator inside her rising in response to the challenge she read there.
Dammit. Not now
. She wrestled with it, trying to keep it chained, but it broke free, flattening her humanity and filling her senses. Her body tensed and volcanic power filled the air. She stopped struggling, reveling in the primal strength of her Blade. She felt her body becoming more fluid, her senses sharpening, her instincts turning hard and deadly. The pain of her compulsion spells faded into the background of her mind. They weren’t important. Hunting was important, and fighting.

She glared at Tutresiel. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that you protect your people and risk yourself, even when it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, kitten. It’s common sense. Horngate can get along without me. If I don’t happen to come back, you’ll still be here to defend the covenstead. Like you said, you’re a hundred times more powerful than I am. You and Xaphan are too valuable to waste when Scooter only wants me. Besides, I’ve seen the kind of fighting you do. Horngate wouldn’t survive another one of your brawls.”

“It’s common sense for someone who isn’t selfish, who will sacrifice herself for the good of her coven. In my experience, that makes you rather unique in the magical world.”

“Why doesn’t that sound like a compliment?”

“Because it’s stupid. You ought to concentrate on saving your own skin.”

“There’s only one flaw in your thinking,” she said.

“Oh? What’s that, princess?”

“I made a promise, which means that any way you slice it, he’s got me on his leash.” Her mouth twisted. “He’s been yanking my chain for weeks, and I’m damned tired of it. It’s time for me to get in his face.”

She swung around and began to jog away, hoping she’d corked his mouth. Her Shadowblade Prime was fully roused now, power rolling away from her in uncontrollable waves. Her Blades wouldn’t be able to ignore it. She had to get to the vault before they came running to stop her like a horde of hysterical nannies.

Tutresiel fell in beside her again, his wings soundless as he held them stiff behind him.“Promises are stupid,” he said. “You put yourself fully into his power. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“If you keep calling me stupid, I’m going to find a big pointy stick and jam it up your ass,” she said.

He chuckled. “Any time you want to try, princess, I’ll be ready.” He sobered. “Do not misunderstand. I have no intention of going in your place or trying to stop you. But I will bear witness. You should have that.” He grinned. “Besides, this could be fun. This place is as boring as a crypt.”

She blew out an annoyed breath, wanting nothing more than to rip off his wings and tell him to go rent himself a hooker or stick his head in a vat of acid if he wanted entertainment. “Can I stop you?”

“You could try.” He flicked a wing out, the edge of a feather slicing lightly across the back of her exposed neck. “But you wouldn’t win.”

Cocky bastard
. Max wiped away the trickle of blood, even as the wound healed over. “Fine. Then do whatever blows your dress up, kitten. Just stay the hell out of my way.”

Chapter 2

ALEXANDER PULLED HIMSELF UP TO THE CHIN bar installed in the closet doorway. Sweat slicked his skin. He’d lost count of how many times he’d pulled himself up. He had done hundreds of push-ups, paced every foot of his small suite of rooms dozens of times, and gone through fifty fights with invisible enemies, but sleep still eluded him.

He dropped to the floor and instantly began to pace again. He deserved better than this half-life. He might as well be a prisoner, the way they watched him. He ground his teeth together, his lips curling in a silent snarl. For the love of darkness, he had helped this covenstead fight off both the angel attack and his own former witch! While he did not expect instant trust, he had earned a few points.

As the former Prime of another coven, he had the trust of no one at Horngate, except possibly Max, and lately that was looking more and more doubtful. She barely said a word to him, and what did come out of her mouth was usually scathing. The others only saw him as a threat to her. Once a Prime, always a Prime, and they could not comprehend that he was willing to never challenge for the role of Shadowblade Prime as long as Max held it. Giselle had made it more than clear that she would kill him before she let that happen, but that was not what kept him in check. Max commanded absolute loyalty from her people and most of the covenstead, including him. She earned such loyalty with her strength and skills, as well as her willingness to sacrifice herself for them. Which is why she needed Alexander—even if she did not want him.

He slammed a fist into the top of his dresser, feeling a primal satisfaction in the way the wood splintered apart. He picked up the offending furniture and smashed it against the wall, then systematically began to shred it into sawdust.

Max was always likely to try fixing a problem by herself before she called for backup. She hated risking her people, and after she had lost so many of her Blades defending Horngate four weeks ago, that tendency was only going to get worse. She was constantly putting her own life in danger—in the first week he had known her, she had nearly died three times. Horngate could not afford to lose her.
He
did not want to lose her. He slammed his fist into the wall. Bones shattered and spiked through his skin. The pain did nothing to steady his churning emotions. He shook his hand to straighten the bones, feeling his healing spells take hold.

She needed someone as strong as she was to break her out of her single-minded focus, someone who would not back down. Alexander was that someone. As a Prime, even if he no longer served as such, he could get in her face and stay there until she saw reason. None of her Blades could do the same, and Max defied Giselle on principle.

She needed him. Horngate needed him. But how the hell was he going to make them see it?

He was tired of acting the part of the castrated lion to soothe their worries. He had kept his predator tightly leashed for weeks, pretending to be meek and safe. He was not fooling anyone. So why bother anymore? He started for the door. He was going to go for a run in the fortress halls, even if it made him look like a spy. He had not gone three steps when the locking wards on his door flared blue and faded and the door swung open.

He stopped dead. He only knew one person who could walk through locks like they did not exist.

Max.

Hope surged in his chest.

Finally.

Hope turned to bitter ash as Magpie stepped inside. She turned to face him, her body jerky. He froze. Her eyes were cloud white. She did not blink. His body corded, and he felt the Prime in him rising. He struggled with it, pulling it back under control. As much as he wanted to be let out of the limbo he was trapped in, letting his Prime loose would only give Giselle the reason she needed to kick him out. Or, more likely, kill him. He knew too much about Horngate and its devastated defenses just to let go.

Magpie shut the door behind her. Alexander’s skin prickled, but he held himself still as she stopped just inches away. She looked up at him with those unworldly eyes, and a chill swept him. He scowled. Dense power surrounded her—she was far stronger than any circle-level witch was supposed to be.

“The amulet is coming to you,” she said in a slow, guttural voice that sounded nothing like her usual clipped tones. “It will give you your heart’s desire. You will be Prime.”

All Alexander could do was stare as her words hammered him like bullets. “What do you mean?” he demanded. The amulet? How could she even know about it? And his heart’s desire? What was that? Prime? Here? If he was Prime, then that meant he and Max would have had to fight, probably to the death. Or else someone else would kill her—Horngate had a lot of enemies.

He snatched Magpie’s shoulders. “What the fuck do you mean? How can I be Prime?”

How could he prevent it? He shook her, and her head bobbled back and forth. Then she went limp as a rag. He held her up and felt her coming back to herself. When she looked at him again, her eyes were their usual near black.

“What did you mean?” He grated again. Max dead. He
would not
kill her. Nor would he let anyone else do it.

“Let me go,” Magpie ordered.

When he did not immediately obey, she put her fingertips on his bare chest and sent a piercing burst of magic through his flesh. He dropped his hands as shards of lightning exploded inside him. Still, he did not back away.

“Tell me what you meant,” he said, his mouth tight.

She glared at him, and then her expression softened slightly. “I don’t know what I said. No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t tell me. If I was meant to know, I would remember. All I can tell you is this—whatever I said, you shouldn’t ignore it. What I say is always true.”

With that, she turned to the door. She pulled on the handle and looked at him. “Let me out.”

He scowled. “You opened the door just fine a minute ago.”

“And now I want you to open it. Or you can find somewhere else to eat for a while.”

He grimaced and went to the door, swiping the wards. She swept out without looking at him. He shut the door and leaned back against it, scraping his fingers through his hair.

The amulet is coming to you. It will give you your heart’s desire. You will be Prime.

She could only have meant the Amengohr amulet.

The breath went out of him and he closed his eyes. For years, he had thought it only a myth of his mother’s people. She came from Caramaras gypsies whose history and magic were rooted in ancient Egypt. Alexander’s mother had told him bedtime stories of the Amengohr, an amulet that granted the wearer invisibility at night and the power to walk in the day without harm. As a boy, he had never understood the point of the second half, but then he had been made a Shadowblade, and he knew what it really was: the Amengohr amulet allowed a Shadowblade to walk safely in the light of day and to become invisible in the dark.

The moment he realized what the amulet was, it captivated him. He did not regret being a Shadowblade, but to walk again in the sun ….. The want of that caused an unimaginable ache deep down in his soul.

He caught his breath. If he had it, Max would not be able to beat him in a fight.
It would be cheating.
No. He
would not
challenge her. He had decided that four weeks ago. She was the best Prime for Horngate—she was the heart of her Blades, and even the Sunspears followed her without question. They trusted her to look out for them and lay her life on the line for them, and in return, they did the same. He had never seen a Prime who enjoyed so much loyalty. He could never hope to replace her.

So if Magpie’s prophecy really was true, then something else must happen to her. There had to be a way to stop it. Even if he had to reveal the prophecy to Niko, Max’s second in command. He grimaced. That would go over well. Niko was insanely loyal to Max. He would kill Alexander before he could get a chance to become Prime. Or the little bastard would try.

Alexander’s mouth twisted with brutal humor. He was not so easy to kill. Max, on the other hand, found trouble the way bears found honey. She needed a keeper, and not even a coven full of witches, Shadowblades, and Sunspears seemed able to do the job. But they would damned well have to do a better job now, or they would lose her.

He shoved himself away from the door and stripped off his pants before stepping into the shower. He turned on the cold water.

The amulet is coming to you. It will give you your heart’s desire. You will be Prime.

His heart’s desire? What was that? He longed to be a part of Horngate—no other coven would have him, and he never wanted to go back to Selange, his former witch. Not that she would have him. But it was not just that he had nowhere else to go; there was something special about Horngate. Part of it was Max and the loyalty she inspired. Part of it was Giselle—as ruthless and brutal as she was, she cared about the people of her covenstead more than she cared about power and prestige. He had never met another witch like her.

It took balls of steel to refuse to serve the Guardians, and she had. When all of the other territory witches were called upon to serve as generals in the war to destroy most of humanity and return magic back to the stagnating earth, she had refused, and the Guardians had sent two angels—Xaphan and Tutresiel—to destroy her and Horngate. But she had survived, and now the angels served her. It was a testimony to her power as a witch and her leadership. She also recognized that she needed help—without Max, without everyone laying themselves completely on the line, the place would have been destroyed.

You will be Prime.

He twisted the water off and got out of the shower, toweling himself off roughly before dressing in black jeans and a white T-shirt. Out of long habit, he slid his phone into his pocket and a knife into his waistband. He started for the door, not entirely sure what he planned to do.

At that moment, he felt the power of Max roll through him. Her Prime was fully roused. He nearly ripped the door off its hinges as he plunged into the corridor, unleashing his own Prime as he did, no longer caring what anyone might think. Protecting Max from whatever was out to kill her meant he needed to quit cowering in a corner and start acting like what he was. In a split second, the predator inside him rose to a killing edge. Smells and sounds sharpened. His muscles tightened, and he rolled onto the balls of his feet, his knees flexing. Power cascaded off him in palpable waves.

In moments he was joined by the other Blades, all in various stages of undress, most carrying weapons.

The power of Max’s Prime filled the corridor. Alexander could almost smell it.

Niko eyed Alexander warily, his body taut. Alexander could see him brace against the thrust of Alexander’s Prime. Like Max, he was about five foot seven, except he was built like a tree stump, with broad shoulders, powerfully muscled legs, and a square, blunt-featured face. His skin was naturally tanned, though not as dark as Alexander’s, and his black hair was tousled.

Beside him stood Tyler. He was slender and graceful, with blond hair and a rakish three musketeers type of beard and mustache. He spun a knife in his fingers, and Alexander knew he could drill it through an enemy’s throat in the space of a heartbeat. His hazel eyes were diamond hard, and, like everyone else in the corridor, his Blade had risen to the killing edge.

He and Niko were close to becoming Primes themselves, as was Thor. He stood near the stairs. He was an inch or so taller than Alexander, with shaggy blond hair that hung to his shoulders. His face was lean, with a square jaw, and his eyes were stormy blue. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt and a pair of threadbare Levi’s. He met Alexander’s gaze with a slight nod. It did not pay to be too friendly with his former Prime.

“Anybody know where she is?” Niko demanded. There was naked accusation in his eyes as he looked at Alexander.

There was a chorus of noes, and Alexander jerked his head in the negative. A thought whispered in his mind:
Is this it? Is this how she dies?
He crushed it. No.

“Scatter,” Niko ordered. “Search the mountain. Call when you find her. Then I’m going to fucking kill her,” he muttered as he started away.

All seven did as they were told. Alexander lunged up the stairs, hard on Niko’s heels, with Tyler and Thor just behind. They split at the cross corridor and then again. Alexander followed a path he could barely sense—a feeling of increasing strength as he drew closer.

His helpless fury grew as he hunted. What the hell was she doing? How could he keep her safe if she did not tell anyone when she was doing something dangerous and stupid? And what could be so dangerous inside the covenstead?

Realization struck him like a sledgehammer. “Mother fucking night,” he grated aloud, reaching for his phone. He speed-dialed Niko.

“What?” came the other man’s terse response.

“The vault. She went down into the damned vault. She is giving herself up to the bastard.”

Alexander snapped his phone shut before Niko could respond, then flung it against the wall in fury. He began to run in earnest.

He raced through the main hall to the top of the entrance leading down into Scooter’s vault. He remembered the creature—it had appeared as a man, but it was far more than that. It had held a territorial witch and fourteen Shadowblades in thrall without any effort at all. It wanted Max, and she had just walked in and given herself up without a word to anyone. Alexander was going to break her neck. He did not let himself think about what Scooter might do to her.

The vault was at the bottom of a deep shaft. Alexander leaped down to the first landing, swung through the turn, and leaped again. He had gone halfway when he stumbled to a halt. A chill ran through him.

The invisible trail of Max’s Prime vanished like it had never existed. Alexander snarled and launched himself downward again. He caught the scent of her—the metallic, corrosive smell of the Uncanny mixed with a rich bittersweet flavor, like the darkest chocolate twined with a tang of winter snowmelt and the faintest hint of honey. It was a scent that was purely Max. Alexander tasted her on his tongue and jumped the last forty feet down into the open shaft at the center of the stairs.