Magic Rises (30 page)

It wasn’t an act. This was real.

Damn it all to hell.

Do not react.

I freed the sword, wiped it on my shirt, and offered it to him hilt first. “Excellent sword. Thank you for the workout.”

“No, thank you.” Hugh pushed from the wall. Blood soaked his T-shirt. His face swelled on the left side. He must’ve turned when I rammed his face into the wall. Probably tried to save the nose. A broken nose made your eyes tear. I would’ve finished him much faster.

All the aches and pains screamed at me at once. My stomach hurt. My left side was likely cut. My right side felt slightly off, with a familiar throbbing pain. Cracked rib. Hopefully not broken. My arms ached in ten different places. My T-shirt hadn’t turned completely red, like his, but bright stains blossomed on it here and there.

I turned, stretching slightly. Ow. I felt like someone had beaten me with a bag of razor-studded potatoes.

A small noise made me pivot. Curran marched toward us, his face dark, his eyes almost completely gold. He must’ve jumped out the window. Imagine that. Whatever would Lorelei do all by her lonesome?

“You owe me a rematch,” Hugh said.

“Maybe. One day.”
When you aren’t surrounded by two dozen bodyguards.

“That’s a promise.”

Curran moved toward me. “Are you okay, baby?”

“He calls you baby.” Hugh laughed. “I love it.”

“Shut up,” Curran said.

I raised my voice, so the audience could hear. “About my prize?”

Hugh smiled. “Of course,” he said, his voice carrying. “You are welcome to anything in the courtyard.”

I turned and pointed at Christopher in the cage. “I want him.”

Hugh blinked and locked his jaw.

Yes, yes, you’ve been had. Put your big-boy pants on and pay up.

Hugh’s face looked grim. He really didn’t want to give up his torture toy.

“Is there a problem?” Curran asked.

“No problem.” Hugh raised his voice and barked an order in another language.

Hibla strode out, pulling a large keychain from her pocket. Two djigits followed. We watched as they unlocked the doors.

Hugh pulled off his shirt, displaying an award-winning torso. He was built like an anatomy model—every muscle honed to precision and just the right size: strong, powerful, but flexible. And bloody. I must’ve cut him over twenty times. Most of the wounds amounted to little more than nicks and shallow gashes. He was really good. Had I been less angry, he might’ve won. That thought worried me.

Hugh turned his left arm, showing off three precision cuts across the bulging triceps. Had I managed to cut deeper, I would’ve disabled the arm with each one. “Look at this.” Hugh indicated the cuts to Curran. “Like a fucking artist.”

I started toward the cage.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” Curran said quietly behind my back.

“She doesn’t need your help,” Hugh said. “But any time you want to play, let me know.”

I kept walking. My hip hurt, too. Red seeped through my jeans. Another cut. Deeper than others. Hell would freeze over before I limped.

The djigits swung the door open and backed away from me, hands in the air. Christopher stared at me with owl eyes.

“Come on,” I told him.

He blinked. “My lady.”

“You’re free. Come with me. We have food and water.” I reached for him.

He grabbed my arm with both hands and kissed it. “My mistress. My beautiful mistress. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He had a death grip on my wrist.

“My kind mistress, my sweet mistress, thank you, thank you . . .”

“Barabas!” I called. I was ninety percent sure I’d heard him during the fight.

A movement and he appeared by my side as if by magic. “Alpha.”

“Deadly mistress,” Christopher whispered. His fingers brushed my blood. He stared at me, his face all shining eyes. “My lady! Will serve forever . . .”

“Shhh.” I put my left index finger to my lips. “Hush now.”

Barabas reached over me and gently disengaged Christopher’s fingers. “That fight was amazing,” he said quietly.

Good to know I still gave good show, because I sure as hell wasn’t good for much else. “Please make sure he gets a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and some food and water. Don’t give him too much, because he’ll gorge himself. He isn’t all there.”

Barabas pulled Christopher out of the cage. The man stared up at him. “I died, didn’t I? Are you an angel?”

“Sure,” Barabas said. “Follow me to the Heavenly Shower.”

Christopher walked a couple of steps on wobbling legs and spun back, looking at me with an expression of complete desperation on his face.

“Go with the angel, Christopher,” I said. “We’ll talk later.”

Barabas turned him around and guided him into the building.

I turned to follow them. Curran stood in my way. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked quietly.

“Move,” I told him, keeping my voice down. The audience was dispersing but not fast enough for my taste.

Lorelei chose that precise moment to rush out the door. She saw my face and stopped.
That’s right. Keep your distance, delicate flower. The weak human is still very angry.
In my mind, I dashed at her and swung. She had a thin neck. Wouldn’t be too hard.

I crushed that thought. I wouldn’t lose it.

Curran clenched his teeth. His face had that relaxed icy quality that usually meant a storm was about to erupt. “I need to talk to you.”

“Not right now.” I’d had it with him.

“Yes, now.”

“But how will Princess Wilson survive without your manly protection while you and I talk?”

Gold rolled over his eyes.

“I tell you what. She is over there and I’m here. Pick.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then I’ll pick for you.”
Watch me walk away.

“Is that a threat?”

“No, that was a test and you failed it. Don’t follow me.”

He grabbed my arm. I jerked back. “Do not follow me,” I snarled through my teeth. “Or I swear to God, I’ll get my sword and fucking stab you in the heart with it.”

He let go. I marched across the yard, picked up Slayer, and kept walking all the way into our room, where I barred the door.

CHAPTER 16

Sometimes the simple pleasures in life are best. Like a hot shower after a sweaty, bloody fight. A dull, heavy numbness crept into my arms. Hugh hit like a battering ram. I would really pay for blocking him in the morning, but the pain had already started. I felt tender all over. With luck, I’d still be able to move tomorrow.

I stood under the water, trying not to think, and concentrated purely on shampooing my hair and then dragging a soapy sponge against my cuts. It hurt and I welcomed it.

Andrea once told me that I had a problem processing emotional pain. I couldn’t handle it, so I replaced it with physical pain instead: either I inflicted it on others or I suffered through it myself. Well, I had physical pain aplenty. If she was right, I should be floating on a cloud of bliss right about now.

Finally the water ran clear. I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror. The gashes on my thigh and stomach had come open. Demet was really, really good at medmagic, but I was still human and now I was all cut up to hell. In the past, Doolittle had spent so much effort on healing me that some of my old scars had faded. Clearly, this created an imbalance and the Universe had decided to compensate.

Half a dozen shallow cuts crossed my arms and torso. Hugh’s handiwork. I shouldn’t have let him goad me. Voron always told me that he’d trained Hugh to fight, but also to command and plan. But he had trained me to kill. Hugh would be directing an army, leading it into battle, while I was a lonely assassin on the sidelines, cutting my way through the mass of people to my target. In a simple one-on-one sword fight, I had an edge.

Neither of us had used magic. I still didn’t know the full extent of his, and he still didn’t know much about mine. At least I hadn’t given myself away completely.

Someone had left bandages on the night table. Probably a gift from Doolittle. I bandaged the worst of it, sat on the chair very carefully—my thighs hurt—and slumped forward. My body hurt all over. I closed my eyes. It was just pain. It would pass. I just needed a minute. I still had three hours before my shift with Desandra started.

Someone knocked. I stared at the door, hoping to burn through it with my gaze and explode whoever was on the other side.

Knock-knock.

“Yes?”

“Can I please talk to you?”

I didn’t recognize the voice. Okay. I pulled on a clean T-shirt and a new pair of jeans, picked up Slayer, and opened the door. A young man stood in the hallway, dressed in a djigit outfit. Young, barely eighteen. Dark blond hair, brown eyes. He stood, rocking forward on his toes, as if expecting to be jumped any second.

“What is it?”

“You’re looking for the orange creatures,” he whispered in a heavily accented English.

“Yes.”

“I will take you where they nest. If you pay me. But we have to go fast and be very quiet.”

Aha. “What’s your name?”

“Volodja.”

A Russian name, short for Vladimir. “How far is it?”

“Two hours. On the mountain. I want three.” He held up three fingers. “Three thousand dollars.”

“Sounds like a good deal to me.”

“I’ll wait in town by the statue.” He took off down the stairs.

My howling in the dark had paid off. Someone got upset over the blood test and now they had decided to make me disappear. The only other party interested in getting rid of me would be Lorelei, and she had no reason to fight with me. She was winning.

They really thought I was stupid. At least he didn’t offer to sell me a nice beachfront property in Nebraska.

I pulled off my T-shirt—it hurt—and strapped myself into a bra. It also hurt. I put the T-shirt back on, found my boots, and headed to Doolittle’s room. I’d finally found the end of a thread in this messy knot. If I pulled on it the right way, it would lead me to the guilty party. But I’d need backup.

The door stood wide open and I heard Aunt B’s voice from down the hall. “And then I told him that beads were just fine, but a woman had to have certain standards . . . Come on in, dear.”

How did she know? I was pretty quiet. I stepped through the door. The debris was gone. A clean, tidy room greeted me, furnished with new bedding, chairs, and desks. Doolittle sat in a wheelchair. I did my best not to wince. Eduardo stretched out on the bed to the right. George sat on the other bed. Keira sat on the windowsill, while Aunt B occupied a chair. Derek lay on the floor, reading a book.

Everybody, except Doolittle and Aunt B, studiously pretended not to look at me. We’d been attacked, we were still under siege, and the shapeshifters had turned grim. My fight with Hugh must’ve made things worse somehow. Either that, or all of them also knew that Curran had found himself a new main squeeze. Awkward.

“A young djigit stopped by my room,” I said. “His name is Volodja and for three thousand dollars he will walk me deep into the mountains and show me where the bad shapeshifters live.”

“How fortunate.” Aunt B’s eyes lit up. “Would you like some company for this wonderful trap, I mean, adventure?”

“I would.”

“I’ll come,” Derek said.

“No. I get you into enough trouble as is.” Derek and I were close. If Curran did decide to pull the plug on our relationship, I didn’t want to divide the boy wonder’s loyalty. That was how the packs split, and both Derek and Barabas were just idealistic enough to dramatically exit with me. It was best to start distancing myself now.

“I’ll come, too,” Eduardo said.

“Why don’t you let me go instead,” Keira said. “You can barely stand.”

“I don’t know, all he has to do is come with us and loom,” Aunt B said.

Eduardo crossed his arms on his chest, making his giant biceps bulge. “What do you mean, loom?”

“We need you to stand there with your arms crossed and scowl,” I translated.

Eduardo scowled. “I don’t do that.”

“Just like that,” Derek said.

Eduardo realized his arms were crossed and dropped them. “Screw you guys.”

“That settles it. I’m going.” Keira hopped off the windowsill. “Besides, I owe you, bison boy.”

“For what?” I asked.

“He got hurt trying to save me,” Keira said. “When the thing pinned me down, he picked it up and slammed it on the floor. It was very heroic.”

Eduardo shook his head.

Perfect. Between Jim’s sister and Aunt B, my back would be covered. “I’ll need to check on Christopher and we’re good to go.”

Three minutes later I was knocking on Barabas’s door, with Aunt B and Keira looking over my shoulder. Barabas opened the door.

“How is he?”

Barabas’s face took on a pained expression. “So far he threw up and tried to dive in the bathtub.”

“At the same time?”

“Thankfully, no. He’s soaking. The dirt is embedded in his skin. Are you going somewhere?”

I explained what was going on. “If we play along, we can get to the bottom of who hired him. Unless it’s a one-in-a-million chance that he actually is telling the truth.”

“Be careful,” Barabas said.

We left the castle and took the winding road down the mountain. The sea sparkled like an enormous sapphire. The sun shone bright and the air smelled of salt water and the light scent of apricots. The beauty of it was so startling, I stopped and looked.

“We should go swimming,” Keira said.

We all knew that a relaxing day at the beach wouldn’t be happening, but it was nice to dream. “There are no frogs in the sea.”

“Why would I be interested in frogs?”

“Jim told me one time that he didn’t swim unless there were frogs involved. I assumed he ate them.”

“That’s disgusting,” Keira said. “You really should stop listening to my brother. And he swims like a fish, by the way. The Cat House has an Olympic-sized pool and he swims a couple of miles every time he stays over. Frogs. That man has never eaten a frog in his entire life.”

Aunt B laughed.

We started down the winding road. The gravel path smelled of rock dust. Dense blackberry bushes formed a solid wall of green on the sides. I suddenly realized I was starving. I pulled a handful of berries off the bush and stuffed them in my mouth. Mmmm. Sweet.

“Berries are always best off the branch,” Aunt B said. She wore a bright yellow dress with a white paisley design on it, sunglasses, and a straw hat. Keira wore a sundress with a light brown bodice and a wide skirt made of strips of light turquoise, white, and brown fabric. It came up to her knees and made her look five years younger. The two of them appeared to be on vacation, while I, with my sexy bruised face, big boots, jeans, and a sword, looked like I had a camp of bandits to destroy.

“What’s the connection between you and our handsome host?” Aunt B asked.

Blackberries taste much worse when they try to come back up your throat. “Uhhhh . . .”

“
Uhhh
is not an answer,” Keira informed me.

Andrea must not have told her about Hugh, and I had no desire to explain who my dad was. “We never met but we were trained by the same person. Now he works for a very powerful man who will kill me if he finds me.”

“Why?” Keira asked.

“It’s a family thing.”

“That explains the attraction,” Aunt B said.

“Attraction?”

“You’re that thing he can’t have. It’s called forbidden fruit.”

“I’m not his fruit!”

“He thinks you are. The word you’re looking for is ‘smitten,’ my dear.” Aunt B smiled. “I’m sure the way Megobari looked at you made Curran positively giddy.”

Hearing his name was like being burned. “Will you stop meddling in my love life?” I growled.

“I’m not meddling. I’m offering commentary.”

Ugh. “I just want to go home.”

“Not until we get all of the panacea we’ve been promised.” Aunt B adjusted her hat. “You have no idea what it’s like to lose a child to loupism. True, you’ve endured Julie’s tragedy, but I had given birth to my babies. I nursed them, I nurtured them from the time they were tiny and helpless, I fanned the tiny flames of their potential. I had so many dreams for them. Children think you are a god. You are the center of their universe, you can fix anything, you can shield them and protect them, and then one day they find out you can’t. I remember the look in my sons’ eyes before I killed them. They thought they were abandoned. That I had betrayed them. Raphael will not go through this. Not if I can help it.”

Her voice told me that the wound was still there. It had formed a scab over the years, but Aunt B still mourned her dead children. When she told me that she came on this trip to keep an eye on me, it was a white lie. She had come here for panacea and she would do anything to get it. The one bag she’d earned wouldn’t be enough. I thought of Maddie in the glass coffin. I couldn’t blame Aunt B. I would do anything to spare my child this kind of pain.

If I didn’t have children with Curran, I wouldn’t have to worry about it.

Wow. I wasn’t even sure where that came from.

“I’m glad this Volodja came to you,” Aunt B said.

“Why?” My fight must’ve made a bigger impression than I thought.

“Because some Abkhazians speak Russian. They’re neighbors. You’re the only one in our group who can translate in a pinch.”

And here I thought she was awed by my incredible martial skills. One deflated ego? Check.

We went through the streets. Abandoned houses stared at us with empty windows, shells of their former selves. On the wall of an empty apartment building, little more than a gutted carcass of concrete and steel, someone had drawn a pair of angel wings. Hope for a better future, or a memory of someone who died. We would never know.

“That must be the statue.” Keira pointed to a bronze djigit on a horse. It rose in the middle of a small plaza. Behind it sat a small café.

Aunt B inhaled. “We should go this way.” She made a beeline for the café. “He is a werejackal. He’ll find our scent.”

The café sat in the shade of a huge walnut tree, a turquoise-blue building that had seen better days.

“Bakery,” Keira announced.

You don’t say.
I grinned. Back home Aunt B preferred to conduct her business over a platter of cupcakes or a slice of pie.

“Is something funny?” Aunt B asked.

“We crossed half the planet and you found a bakery.”

“I don’t see the humor in that.”

Keira laughed under her breath.

“You’re supposed to look menacing,” Aunt B told her. “You’re Eduardo’s stand-in.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Less laughing, more looming.”

Keira crossed her arms and pretended to scowl.

“We should’ve brought the werebuffalo,” Aunt B said.

We walked into the café. An older woman with gray hair smiled at us from behind the long counter and called out in a lilting language. Aunt B pointed to some things, money was exchanged, and suddenly we were sitting at a table with some pastries filled with apricots. We had been sitting still for about fifteen minutes when the kid walked through the door. He carried a rifle. A backpack hung off his shoulder. He saw Aunt B and Keira and halted.

“You have friends.”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay. Did you bring the money?”

“We did,” Aunt B assured him.

“Are you ready?” Volodja asked.