Crimson Wind (4 page)

He said nothing, just staring. Max didn’t look away. His eyes seemed to pour out of his sockets like moon-dappled oil. The tide washed over her and she found herself shrouded in something that felt like an electric web. It laced her skin, and everywhere it touched, jolts of electricity sizzled. She leaned into it, feeling her strength ebbing. If he kept this up much longer, she’d be worm food. Still, she didn’t argue or fight. It was a game of chicken, and she didn’t mean to blink first.

Speckles of white and green flashed across her vision, and she recognized them as signs that she was losing consciousness. She sagged, slumping over onto her side. She felt oddly warm and comfortable, and though her compulsion spells flogged her like whips, telling her to fight, she didn’t move.

Suddenly the black shroud vanished. Scooter was behind her. He lifted her, cradling her against his chest. His skin was as warm and soft as any man’s, and he smelled of grass and dirt. Max’s head fell back to nestle in the crook of his neck. He stroked his hands over her arms and breasts, then lower, to her belly and legs. She had no sense of what he was doing until he repeated his gestures twice more. Then she realized she was being cocooned in magic. She didn’t struggle. He didn’t want her dead.

Soon she felt the sludge in her head starting to thin, and the gray cleared from her vision. Healing energy seeped into her body, and she began to feel like she might be strong enough to hold up her own weight again. Still, she didn’t try to escape Scooter’s hands. She found the sensation both soothing and strangely erotic.

She drew a breath and turned to snuggle closer against him. He was still naked. And apparently the plumbing worked, because he was sporting a growing hard-on. Not for the first time did she wonder just what he planned to do with her.

“I have to go,” she said, still resting in his arms.

His hands stilled. “Time is running away.”

“Time for what?”

“For what must be done. What you and I must do.”

“I need a week. Maybe a little longer. Then I’m all yours.”

He nodded slowly, as if he had a choice. “I will wait.”

“I’ll come back to you.” Max pushed herself to her feet. She felt back to normal strength. But then, he wouldn’t want to send her out damaged. Better odds of her getting back safe if she wasn’t roadkill when she left. She glanced pointedly at the wall where the door should be. “I’d better go.”

“First,” he said, standing up with unnatural fluid grace, “I will give you a gift.”

She frowned and took a step back. In her experience, gifts weren’t something you wanted to receive, especially from creatures like Scooter. He smiled. It was the first time she’d ever seen such an expression on his face, and it was unnerving. She felt very much like the fly invited into the spider’s parlor. She’d been congratulating herself because she thought she had him trapped over a barrel, but he wasn’t taking it lying down.

She watched him closely, tensing herself to jump away. But he never moved. Instead, the sparkling crystals on the ceiling and walls suddenly flashed brighter, sending sequins of jeweled light dancing through the air and across the floor. They swirled and coalesced into a flashing disco ball. Before Max could do more than twitch, it dove and engulfed her left arm.

The disco ball contracted into a tight, hard sleeve that felt like a lead weight. It flared bright blue and faded from sight, but the tight heaviness remained. She rubbed her arm, feeling nothing. “Any chance you’re going to tell me what this is?” she asked. “Or do I get to find out on my own?” At the worst possible moment, of course.

“You already have the power to travel the web. It is what makes you special to me. If you are in danger for your life, you will now be able to step through the web to somewhere else. Not far. Perhaps only a few feet.”

Max considered a moment. “Thanks. I think.” She had a feeling that invoking the spell would be less than pleasant. Scooter’s slight smile told her she was right. When he only continued to look at her as if waiting, she shifted. “I should go. The faster I get my family, the faster I return to you.”

“There is something else you might wish to see.”

She scowled, her stomach twisting with foreboding. His expression had gone entirely bland, except for his eyes. They gleamed with angry fire. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. Whatever he wanted to show her, it felt like a trap.

“If you want to show me something, then get on with it. I don’t have time to mess around.”

“Less than you think.” He smiled again, and it wasn’t remotely pleasant.

Then he gestured, and the room fell dark except for the crystals on the opposite wall. Across them panned an image of a farm town. They were looking down on it from high above. On the eastern side was a wide black strip of freeway, and to the west rose steep hills. A long lake nestled behind a dam, surrounded by a thin fringe of trees and bare ridges. In between was the town, surrounded by checkerboard orchards and farmland. Max’s mouth went dry. The town was Winters. Her gaze riveted on the finger-shaped patch of green that was her brother’s orchard.

“Why are you showing me this?” she rasped, her throat tight.

“Watch.”

He moved behind her, his hands sliding gently over her shoulders to her arms, his chest hot against her back. Max couldn’t tell if he meant to be comforting or if he thought she’d turn away and was going to make sure she couldn’t. Fat chance. She was locked in place.

“They come,” he murmured against her ear.

At first, she didn’t see anything. Then mounds of loose dirt rose in the surrounding fields like giant gopher holes. Out of them crawled animals and people. They were sleek and inhuman in their grace, their eyes jewel-like. They scanned the area like hungry wolves. There were hundreds of them. They were followed by ribbons of white smoke that hung low, curling across the ground to surround the town and outlying fields in a thick wall. It thickened, spreading inward. Before long, it would swallow everything inside.

“What are they?” Max fixed her gaze on her brother’s farmhouse. The smoke was closing on it quickly.

“No questions. Watch.”

She could see people running toward the house. Someone on a four-wheeler was overtaken halfway through the orchard. Others were swallowed as they dropped baskets and leaped from ladders beneath the trees. The smoke swept along faster. Suddenly the view telescoped. Max had a moment of vertigo like she was plummeting out of the sky. The picture yanked to a halt, and Max was there in the yard around the white-gabled farmhouse, with its wraparound porch and silo turret. Graceful trees surrounded it, and beyond were two long white barns.

She saw her father and mother. Her throat seized and she could hardly breathe. They were so close, staring straight at her. Then her father shoved her mother, and she raced up onto the porch, pushing ahead of her Tris—Max’s sister—and a teenage girl, Tris’s youngest daughter. What were they doing there? Any of them? They must have come to visit Kyle, the brother she had never really known. He owned the orchard.

Her father started running toward Max. His eyes were wide, and his tanned face was taut and gray. For a moment she thought he was going to snatch her into his arms, he was so close. But then smoke swirled from behind her, and the picture winked out.

“No!”

She spun around, shoving at Scooter. It was like pushing on a mountain. He didn’t move.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“It is what is.”

“It’s happening now?” Max wanted to throw up. She scraped her fingers through her hair, pulling sharply. What was happening there? “What will the smoke and those creatures do to them?”

He shrugged. “I do not have the gift of foreseeing.”

“Then show me. Show me what’s happening to them.”

His brows rose and his eyes gleamed. “What will you pay?” he asked softly. “Will you come with me now if I show you?”

“You motherfucker,” Max spat, crossing her arms tight across her stomach to keep from stabbing him through the eye. “You know I can’t. I have to help them.”

“Will they be alive when you get there?”

She stared at him. The bastard was taunting her. She was making him wait, so he was getting a little revenge. Anger made her shake. She drew it in, pushing it down. She sank inside herself, feeling her emotions peeling away as she withdrew. She needed to be cool-headed and focused.

“If you want me to be faster, then why don’t you send me there through the web? Surely you can do that,” she said, lifting the arm he’d ensorcelled and tapping it meaningfully.

“You are not yet ready for such a journey. Nor am I willing to risk it.”

“Risk what?”

Abruptly he pointed at the wall, and the door reappeared. “Go. I
will
hold you to your word.”

The emphasis on will told her that what she suspected was true: the spell on her arm wasn’t just a gift, it was also a leash. Apparently he’d been watching too many cop shows about GPS tracking.

“I’ll be back,” Max said, and started for the door, sidestepping so she could keep an eye on Scooter.

The crystal walls glowed with milky blue light and, within seconds, began to melt like wax. The magic pooled on the floor and ran toward her as if she were a magnet. Max turned and fled. She knew without asking that if it overtook her, she wasn’t leaving. The bastard definitely had passive-aggressive tendencies.

She shouldered through the door, her spell-wrapped arm turning searingly cold. She staggered, bending double, the air rushing out of her lungs as the cold swept up her arm and into her chest. Her heart spasmed, and her lungs cramped. She looked up, finding the barrier down and Niko, Alexander, Thor, and Tutresiel staring at her. Panic flared inside her.

“The barrier!” She gasped. “Get it up now!”

Chapter 4

NIKO SPUN AND LEAPED TO DO AS ORDERED. Alexander grabbed Max, swinging her up in his arms and jerking back to the stairs just as Niko slapped the starburst on the wall. Once again, the shimmering curtain of magic cut across the center of the vault. The blue light washed up against it and flared dirty yellow. Beyond, in the doorway, Scooter stood naked, blue magic swirling around him. Light flashed, and Alexander jerked away. He turned back a moment later, his vision dancing with spots. Scooter, the door, and the magic were gone.

He looked down at Max. She rubbed her left forearm up and down, her attention fixed on the curtain. Her body trembled—with fear, exhaustion, or anger, he could not tell. She met his gaze, and for once there was no bite there. There was nothing there at all. Her gaze was distant, like she was looking at him from far away. She had sunk into the depths of herself—it was her version of emotional Kevlar. Whatever had happened in there with Scooter, it was bad. Worse than bad.

“Put me down. I can walk.”

He set her on her feet.

“What the hell were you doing in there? Alone?” Niko demanded.

Tyler had come back down the stairs, and they stood shoulder to shoulder. Tutresiel loomed behind, and Thor stood off to the side.

Max looked at him, then at the others, her gaze settling on Alexander. She frowned at the bloody shreds of his shirt. “What happened to you?”

He looked down at himself and back at her. “Hunting accident.”

Her mouth curved reluctantly, and she shook her head before turning back to Niko. She rubbed her fingers over her arm again, holding it stiffly against her side. Alexander scowled at it.

“Scooter’s been sending me love messages. I thought I’d better go see him before I stopped breathing.”

“That’s why you’ve been looking like death warmed over,” Niko said. It was not a question.

Max shrugged.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Niko said. “What the hell are we for if you don’t bother to use us?”

“Don’t you trust us to have your back?” Tyler demanded.

“Of course I do. Don’t be dumber than you have to be,” Max said impatiently. “This is my problem. Not yours. He’d have killed you.”

“Looks like he almost killed you,” Alexander pointed out as he shrugged out of the shredded remains of his shirt and dropped it onto the ground.

“A couple of times,” she admitted. “But he didn’t, because he needs me alive.”

“For what?”

“That is the billion-dollar question. If you figure it out, let me know. Anyhow, it’s over, at least for now.” She pushed her hair behind her ears.

“What do you mean, for now?” Niko demanded.

“Scooter is going to be patient until I get back.”

“Back from where?” Alexander, Tyler, and Niko asked in unison.

“California. My family is in trouble.”

“Your family?” This time it was Thor. He looked astonished. “You have living family? How old are you?”

Before she could answer, her phone rang with a high-pitched sound few but Shadowblades could hear. She reached into her pocket and flipped it open. Alexander could hear Giselle’s voice on the other end.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for the last fifteen minutes. I need to see you. Now. There’s news.”

“I heard,” Max said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She snapped the phone shut and looked at the gathered men and Tutresiel. She flashed a grin at the angel. “Scooter would have kicked your ass up to your throat,” she said, then headed for the stairs.

Alexander fell in at her heels, followed by the others. Tutresiel brought up the rear, the shaft too small for him to fly up.

No one said anything. Alexander was too glad to see her alive and too worried about what might happen to her when she left. Was she going to try to go to California alone? His jaw set. He would not let her. She could order the others around, and they had to obey, but he was not part of Horngate, and he was not going to sit on his ass while she ran off by herself to get killed.
You will be Prime.
 Not if he could help it.

They followed Max as she wound through the corridors toward Giselle’s suite of rooms. She stopped and turned around.

“Don’t you all have somewhere else to be?”

None of them answered, standing firm without so much as a twitch to suggest that they might be thinking of leaving.

She sighed exasperation. “Giselle wants to see me.”

“Fine,” Niko said.

“After that, you’ll see us,” Tyler said. “We’ll wait.”

She glared, then shook her head. “Bunch of fucking mother hens,” she muttered, and started away again.

Alexander grinned with bitter humor. For once, he was one of them, a brother-in-arms. Tutresiel even seemed welcome in the effort to gang up on Max and make her cooperate. It was a twisted version of “the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Giselle’s suite lay at the bulbous end of a broad passage on the south side of the mountain fortress. Max approached the pair of polished oak doors, pausing outside to check her phone. Her expression was shuttered as she shoved it back into her pocket. Whom was she expecting to hear from?

She turned to look at her companions. “This could take a while.”

“We’ll wait.” Niko crossed his arms, his square jaw jutting.

Max eyed him balefully. “Remind me later to kick your ass and show you who’s in charge.”

“Whatever lights your fire,” he said, not moving.

She turned away and knocked on the heavy doors, then thrust them open. Beyond was a spacious sitting room decorated in shades of cream and purple. The walls were mostly bare, and everything smelled new. Like most everything in the keep, Giselle’s quarters had been destroyed in the battle four weeks before and had only recently been repaired and refurbished.

Max took a step inside and paused, her body suddenly pulling taut, her head cocking. Alexander stiffened and followed her. Niko and Tyler were already moving. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Alexander could feel what had sent her hackles rising. Every hair on his body prickled with the swell of magic. It was a turbulent current, spinning through the room like the outer edge of a whirlpool.

Max plunged into it, heading for the door on the left. It was made of an enormous slab of stone. There was no handle. She put her hands flat against it and shoved. Complex wards flared, and vines of black magic wriggled over her hands and up her arms.

“C’mon, bitch,” Max growled. “You made me to open doors. Don’t think for a second you’re going to keep me out.” She shoved again. A second later, the magic retracted, and the slab of stone swung inward, rotating around a central pivot.

The five Blades and the angel slid inside. It was a circular room with another door on the opposite wall. Protective wards glimmered on every surface. Set in the flat stone floor was the
anneau
floor—a triangle, inside a star, inside a circle. It was lit. At the center of the triangle was Giselle. She hovered a foot off the ground. Her hands were held low and out from her body, and her head was tipped back. She stared upward into the darkness, and her lips moved in an unintelligible whisper. Black magic surrounded her in a crackling cloud.

“What the hell?” Max muttered. “She knew I was coming. Why start a spell?”

“Look,” Alexander said, pointing at a melted blob on the outer edge of the circle. He smelled the burned plastic.

Niko picked it up. “Her phone,” he said with a frown. He dropped it, shaking his hand. “It’s hot.”

Suddenly Giselle’s arms rose over her head in graceful arcs. She pressed her palms together. Magic thickened around her hands. She lowered her arms, her fingers meshed tightly. Magic drained into the ball around her hands, growing dense. She bowed her head, still whispering. Then she thrust her hands down hard, flattening her palms so they were parallel to the floor.

The walls shuddered as magic exploded. It burst through the triangle. The star held it a moment and then winked out. Magic roiled within the circle, as Giselle, her thin face twisting with concentration, again lifted her hands above her head.

“What’s going on?” Tyler asked.

“She’s losing it,” Max said, pacing along the edge of the circle, her hands clenching and unclenching, her gaze locked on Giselle. “She needs to shut this down.”

“She is trying,” Alexander said, his attention shifting between Giselle and Max. Although her expression showed nothing, her compulsion spells had to be ripping her apart, demanding that she rescue the witch. Between those and her own sense of duty, she might do something extremely stupid. Like try to break the circle and pull Giselle out of the maelstrom. The result could bring down the mountain. The circle and the witch were all that was keeping the wild magic from exploding like a nuclear bomb.

“Come on, come on,” Max muttered. “Get your shit together. Stop fucking around.”

Giselle sagged, and magic whirled like a tornado inside the circle. Max lunged. Alexander leaped to stop her, but his fingers only brushed her boot.

He hit the floor and leaped back to his feet. Max had passed through the circle. It was not possible. But then, she could open any lock, and a ward circle was a lock. A moment later, she and Giselle sprawled onto the floor on the other side.

The witch lay limp. She was pale and far too thin. Magic still snapped across her skin in sizzling threads. Beneath her, Max lay on her back, blinking blearily, her body twitching as magic zapped her. She was scorched. Her arms were a patchwork of black and red, and her hands looked like she’d stuck them into the heart of a fire. Her clothes were charred, her hair burned. The smell was awful.

Alexander glanced at the circle. It still held, but the magic it contained was growing visibly more chaotic. It would not be long before it broke through. What kind of idiot was Giselle, risking a powerful working like this without a coven to support her? When she was barely out of her sickbed?

“Get them out,” he ordered the others as they hovered helplessly over the two women. “The circle will not hold. Hurry.”

No one argued. Niko and Tyler lifted Giselle gently away and carried her out into the sitting room. Thor grabbed Max, who groaned, her head lolling over his arm. Alexander and Tutresiel followed. They spun the heavy stone door back into place. The wards flared as it shut. They should be powerful enough to contain the explosion. But if not—

“Keep going. We have to get out of here,” Alexander told the others.

Before anyone could move, a blast reverberated through the mountain. The wall between the sitting room and the workroom bulged, and a spiderweb of cracks wove across it and the ceiling. Two lamps shattered to the floor. Dust sifted down from above.

Giselle convulsed, her body flailing. Niko and Tyler held her firmly as magic whipped them, leaving behind red welts and blisters. Max struggled to stand, and Thor steadied her as she swayed. She closed on Giselle, grasping the witch’s face between her raw hands, bending to get close in her face.

“Stop it. Giselle! Get your shit together before you kill us all!”

Her voice was thick and rasping. Magic writhed over her arms and up her shoulders. She did not seem to notice. Her attention was fixed on the witch. Giselle’s eyes flickered.

“That’s right. Wake up and shut this down,” Max urged. “Come on, now. Remember, I get to be the one to kill you. Are you trying to commit suicide before I can do so?”

“Fat chance,” Giselle whispered, and her eyes opened wide. She sat up. Her mouth pulled into a thin line, her face skeletal beneath the pale wrapping of skin. She had nearly drained herself to death fending off the attacks four weeks ago, and her recovery had been slow, despite the healing help of Xaphan.

She struggled to climb to her feet. Niko helped her. Stepping away, she clenched her hands, pulling them tight together between her breasts. Taking a long, unsteady breath, she pushed them out before her. As before, the magic chasing around her body slid down to ball around her fists. There was less of it now than there had been inside the
anneau
floor. Alexander held his breath.

Giselle brought her fists down sharply at her sides, flattening her hands and pointing her fingers toward the ground. She shouted a word that hammered Alexander’s skull and sent him reeling. He fell against Tutresiel. The angel shoved him away. Alexander caught himself against the wall and spun about. Tutresiel watched him, his red eyes shining brilliantly, daring Alexander to attack.

“Later,” Alexander mouthed, and then turned back to Max and Giselle. The smothering press of magic was gone.

Giselle stood inside a patch of burning carpet. Black smoke billowed as the thick pad beneath caught.

“Get her out of here,” Max said, coughing.

Tyler swung the witch into his arms and carried her out into the foyer area. Niko and Alexander grabbed Max, picking her up between them.

“Can you put that fire out?” she asked Tutresiel as Alexander and Niko set her back on her feet, continuing to steady her as she swayed.

“It is magic fire. Xaphan must do it. Or a witch.”

Max looked at Thor. “Go find him.”

Thor took off at a dead run. Dense black smoke squeezed from the cracks surrounding the now-closed doors. It stank of chemicals and made Alexander’s throat and nose burn.

“Tutresiel, wait here. When Xaphan’s done, bring him. Giselle will need healing. We’d better keep moving before the smoke kills us,” Max said to the others, shaking off Niko and Alexander.

The two men exchanged annoyed glances and followed. Tyler led the way with Giselle.

“Where to?” he asked Max.

Alexander answered. “Dining commons. You need to eat and heal,” he said unapologetically when Max scowled at him. “Giselle could use something to eat and drink as well.”

“Fine,” she said.

She brushed away offers of aid, though clearly she was hurting more than a little. Typical. She never took help unless she had no other choice. He suppressed the urge to help her anyway. She might take it as a Prime challenge, and just at the moment, she might not be able to beat him.

The memory of Magpie’s prophecy swept over him, and his skin went cold. He pulled away, falling back to walk behind.