Darkness Hunts (DA 4) (36 page)

Goose bumps ran across nonexistent skin, but I didn’t say anything.

Welcome to your doom, huntress
. His soft voice carried as easily as thunder.

If that is my fate, then so be it
. My voice was even.
But you should know that fate and I are well acquainted, and I don’t think she has plans to release me from her grip just yet
.

His shadow drew closer, though he hadn’t physically moved. I resisted the urge to step back. Resisted the desire to call Amaya into hand and swat at the creeping darkness near my toes.

Fate is a fickle friend, huntress. I would not be so sure about her intents if I were you
.

Ah, but that’s the benefit of being a strong clairvoyant—surety of the future
. Which was something more than a white lie when it came to my talents, but he wasn’t to know that.
Death will find me sooner than it should, but it will not be via your hands
.

His shadow inched over my toes. It felt like oil, slick and dangerous, and my skin crawled at the sensation.

Kill,
Amaya screamed.
Touch you not
.

Not yet
. He was too far away. Too watchful.

I flexed my fingers, but otherwise didn’t react as his slimy darkness began to twist itself around my ankles. It was nothing but shadows. Nothing to fear, despite appearances.

Taylor laughed. The sound grated across the stillness around us.
I see you will not be rushed into foolish action, huntress. I’m glad
.

Making you happy is not my intent,
I replied, voice still despite the darkness creeping farther up my legs.
Why don’t you give this game up, Taylor, and just turn yourself in?

And what? Avail myself of the Directorate’s mercy? We both know there is no such thing for someone like me. No, I prefer to play the game my way. At least then I am surer of a favorable result
.

Then let the game begin,
I said, and called Amaya.

She appeared in a blaze of furious lilac fire, eager to taste flesh, be it real or astral. I swung her across my legs, severing the darkness that clung to me. Her flames dripped onto Taylor’s long shadow and raced back down its length, but they never reached his body, stopping abruptly several feet away.

Come, huntress,
he said, his tone mocking.
You can do better than that
.

All I intended was to release your leash,
I said.
This is your game, Taylor, not mine. I think the first shot should be yours
.

As you wish,
he said, then disappeared.

I’d half hoped he would make an all-out frontal assault, but it was obvious the bastard was going to make this battle long and slow. Which didn’t mean
I
had to play it that way.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing next to him. Though there was little sensation of movement, I suddenly found myself at the far end of the beach. Taylor’s footprints marred the white sand, but Taylor himself was nowhere to be seen.

I frowned and half turned, my gaze searching the emptiness around me. There was nothing—nothing except the sensation of air recoiling. It wasn’t from Taylor, but rather from something else. Something that was approaching
really
fast.

Then I remembered that Taylor could alter the way I saw the astral plane.

I ducked and flung Amaya upward. She connected with something so hard the force of it reverberated down my arm and made imaginary teeth rattle.

White ash,
she screamed.
Hate!

White ash was used by witches to repel all manner of darkness, demons included—which meant that Taylor knew what my sword was.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck
!

I dropped her away from the invisible ash staff and scrambled backward. Taylor laughed, an eerie sound that came out of the emptiness surrounding me.

I didn’t bother hanging around to see what he was going to do next, but lunged forward, using the tremor of recoiling air as a guide as I attempted to slice him in half. Azriel might have said it wasn’t actually possible to do that on this level of the astral plane, but I
had
hurt him last time I’d called Amaya into action, so it was worth a shot.

It was a shot that proved futile, because her blade hit nothing but air. I paused, Amaya held at the ready, my gaze searching the immediate area as I tried yet again to pinpoint his position.

And in doing so, I realized the beach was
different
. It was fading. Or rather, a fog was devouring it—the same sort of fog that had greeted me when I’d first stepped onto the plane. But why? What advantage did it give him when I couldn’t see him now under the fierce sunshine I’d imagined?

The thought died as awareness prickled my skin.

He was
behind
me.

I raised Amaya and spun around. Caught a glimpse of Taylor’s wickedly pointed staff swooping toward me before the fog whisked him from sight. I lunged forward, under his blow, attempting to skewer him with Amaya’s point. Once again I stabbed nothing but air. I swore and caught my balance. Felt the wash of movement against my skin and jumped back.

But nowhere near fast enough.

Taylor’s staff whacked my left arm with such force that it knocked me sideways. The pain of the blow reverberated through every fiber, as sharp and as real as if I was wearing flesh. Warm stickiness flowed from the impact point and I glanced down quickly. There was no blood, no indication that I’d even been hit, nor should there have been since I wasn’t here physically.

And yet the blood still flowed.

Imagination,
I reminded myself fiercely. He was playing with my mind.

The fog crept over the remnants of my beach, obliterating it completely. Again I had to wonder why. Was it something to do with his blindness in real life? Did he think the fog gave him some advantage over me? It wasn’t as if he didn’t already have enough of those—The thought stopped as I suddenly realized what he was doing.

Taylor wanted me dead, and to do that he had to get me up into the umbra. He had no idea how skilled or not I was at astral traveling, so he was using the fog not only to disguise his movements, but to hide which level we were on.

I swished my sword back and forth. The fog boiled away from her flames, and I caught a glimpse of Taylor moving to my left. I imagined standing behind him, unseen, unheard. Moved in an instant, and swept Amaya left to right. Made contact, though where or what I hit I couldn’t say. It could have been Taylor; it could have been his staff. He made no sound to give me any indication either way.

Yet the smell of blood suddenly seemed to permeate the air.

His or mine?

And how was something like that even possible, given that Azriel had said a soul could be killed only in the umbra?

Killed, yes,
a voice inside me whispered—a voice that sounded suspiciously like Azriel’s—
but remember Adeline’s warning. What happens to you on the plane can become reality if the illusion is powerful enough
.

Taylor’s illusion was certainly powerful enough.

To repeat a favorite phrase, fuck, fuck,
fuck
!

Which meant it really
was
time to stop playing the game his way. I needed to start moving up the levels, but I doubted he’d follow easily. He wanted to play, and I very much suspected he’d want me far weaker—bloodied and bleeding and on the edge of exhaustion—before he stepped onto the umbra and attempted to finish me off.

I had to convince him that I’d reached that state—that I was scared and on the run—long before I
actually
reached that point. And that meant I had to take far more blows than I already had.

Not
something I really wanted to do, but I had little choice.

I gripped Amaya a bit tighter. Her hissing ramped up a couple of notches, an echo of the tension that gripped me. I swung her back and forth and watched the recoiling fog, trying to catch another glimpse of Taylor. For several heartbeats there was nothing; then air caressed my skin.

Once again, the bastard was behind me.

I waited until the last possible moment—until my nerves were a mess and the need to move so fierce it felt like every piece of me quivered—then twisted around and lashed out with Amaya.

She hit something solid and screamed in pain. I jumped back, releasing her from the ash, and heard the whip of air coming in from the right. I bit my lip, and once again waited until the very last moment to jump out of the way.

Something thin and leather-like snapped across my spine and bit deep. A scream was torn from me and blood flowed, on the field and no doubt in real life.

And while the wounds might be nothing more than a product of imagination and Taylor’s will—here on the astral plane, at least—they damn well
felt
real.

But I couldn’t do much about
any
of the wounds that were appearing on my flesh, either here or in reality, simply because I needed to make Taylor believe I was scared enough to run. No hard task, as it was becoming the truth.

But I wasn’t hurt enough yet. Taylor had nicknamed me huntress, and he wasn’t likely to believe I’d be panicked into running so quickly. I had to take at least one more serious hit.

I watched the fog roll away from Amaya’s point, feeling the backwash that was the plane reacting to Taylor’s movements, but not actually reacting to them myself. The coward was coming in from behind again. My skin crawled as he drew closer and closer, until the itch was so bad I could have sworn I’d have to react or go crazy.

Staff!
Amaya screamed.
Up!

I didn’t move, didn’t obey. I just waited, my body tense, as the
whoosh
of air came down hard and fast. Amaya hissed and spat her fury. The flames that roiled from her steel crawled upward, as if seeking to incinerate the staff before it reached us. As her lilac fire began to wrap itself around the oncoming weapon and her screaming ramped up to fever pitch, I threw myself sideways.

The blow that was meant to split my head hit my shoulder instead, and once again it bit deep. I yelped in pain and there was nothing false or forced about it. As an odd weakness began to wash through my astral being, I closed my eyes and imagined myself on the second layer of the plane.

I opened my eyes, registered the lack of the enveloping grayness, then heard the air snap with sound. The whip slicing toward me again.

I imagined my fingers wrapping around the thin end of the leather weapon. Imagined it coiling around my hand as I stepped onto the next level of the astral plane. Felt the sudden shift in the air, and opened my eyes to see a beach that was far darker and more faded than before, and one that remained free of Taylor’s fog. The third level, if all had gone according to plan. All I had do now was hope Taylor took the bait and followed. He should, since he actually wanted me in the umbra as much
I
wanted him there, but the insane often don’t do the predictable.

Pain rippled across my fingers. I glanced down and realized I was still holding the whip in my hand. It was long and wicked-looking, and it was eating into my flesh with needle-sharp teeth.

I yelped again and flung it away without thought, then realized leather couldn’t actually do that. It was Taylor, altering reality as I saw it. Which meant he was here, somewhere.

I did a slow turn and scanned the darkened beach. No Taylor, no creepy, oily shadow, but that didn’t mean much. He was here somewhere—the quiver in the air told me that, even if it didn’t seem to be giving away his location. Maybe he’d worked out that I was using it to track him.

I swung Amaya back and forth, and imagined her flames wrapping around the unseen and revealing their presence.

Fingers of lilac fire immediately swept across the empty beach, the arc wide at first, then gradually narrowing, until they formed a fist around emptiness.

Only it wasn’t empty.

Very few people have such control on the plane, huntress,
he said, as he reappeared. The flames cast an odd purple light across his skin, and made it look like he was wearing a bejeweled death mask.

It was a death mask that held no features.

I shivered—an action that reverberated across the faded beach. Taylor smiled.
I smell your fear, huntress. It is a fine scent.

Him so pleasant,
Amaya commented.

Amusement ran through me, though it did little to lessen the tension. My sword seemed to be gaining a sense of humor, and though I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not, it was certainly better than her continual screaming for a kill.

Kill good
.

Maybe her bloodthirstiness was rubbing off on me, because I could only wholeheartedly agree that killing Taylor
would
be good. But it could happen only in the umbra, and we weren’t there yet.

Fear is a useful tool,
I commented.
It sharpens the reflexes
.

I wondered if Amaya’s fire was capable of dragging Taylor onto the next level, if only because it would be a whole lot easier—not to mention less painful—if I could. I briefly imagined her flames dragging him closer, and though they rippled and moved, nothing changed—certainly not Taylor’s position.

Which in turn meant her flames might not actually have him contained. Maybe he was simply pretending to be so in an attempt to lure me into a false sense of security.

God, the bastard had me second-guessing everything I did.

But is it so useful?
he said.
Perhaps we should test this theory of yours, huntress
.

He threw something into the air, but I ignored the instinct to follow the movement and see what it was. I wasn’t
that
green.

He chuckled, the sound grating down my spine. I shifted my feet, readying for an attack, but for several seconds nothing happened. His eyeless features just stared at me through the glow of his lilac cage.