Sorcha's Wolf (23 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sorcha woke to the knowledge that ropes tied her—again. This time, though, she wasn’t upside down. That might or might not be a good thing though, she thought as she tentatively tested the bonds around her hands and feet and, like before, found them to be too tight for her to break. Another length of rope secured her waist. To what, she couldn’t decide.

 
Her head felt like someone had split it in half and forced the two pieces together again. Gradually, the pain became manageable and as it did, she took in the fact that she could hear nothing, yet the nothingness seemed vast, as if someone had left her alone in a huge cavern.

Slowly the pitch-black began to take shape around her. Directly above her ropes rose beyond her vision. She turned her head and saw that the ropes ended at the sides of what held her. A circle, she realised when she lifted her head and followed the lines. Someone had tied her to a circle? She turned her head left and right, straining to see more.

Not a circle. A circle surrounding a five-pointed star. Her heart, already beating wildly, took off like crazy.

Holy Danu, protect and guide me.

Think, think. What is going on? Where is Alex?
She lifted her head again and even straining and twisting her body she couldn’t make out more than a few feet from her, still she sensed she was alone. If Alex were here, he’d be raging.

The bomb in their little cabin came back to her, the sudden explosion that had rocked their safety and still burnt along her memory.
Ah, goddess, please, he’s alive, isn’t he?
He couldn’t be dead. The wolf was too tough, too hard to die.
Isn’t he?

She jerked and the structure swayed. Swallowing nervously she turned her head until she could look down. Far beneath her, blackness opened like a hungry mouth. She clenched her jaw and concentrated on looking, not freaking out. Below her, she could finally see the outer walls of some kind of grey rocky cliff.

Ah, goddess, she was high up, hung by ropes on a wobbly wooden—probably poorly made—structure. Her heart jumped to her throat when the circle swayed.

She looked around her and noticed for the first time she wore different clothing. A gown, an ancient, bright jade and gold velvet that clung to her in ways that made her aware that under it, she wore nothing at all. Disgusted she twisted her legs, trying to think of a way out of this.

The potion.
She had to break the potion.

Alex. What did he say?
He had two potions. One was the antidote, the other, what? Something to nullify the effect of this one completely?

Didn’t matter, she had to find calm and peace within herself in order to break this potion. Alex wasn’t here. No one was.

“The mighty Sorcha, I see you have grown into quite the little whore for your wolf.”

Rage. Zith, whatever!

Past the frantic beating of her heart, she heard the crisp thud of his boots on the floor. Each step felt like it drove a spike of fear through her chest. A shudder raced through her body, reminding her that the potion had her helpless. She was tied down and practically dangling over some chasm.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. I should thank you in fact, for being so willing to distract the mangy dog.” Rage laughed a chilly, disgusting sound that made her heart stutter. The things he could do to her—things he had
done
to her—roared in her mind, fracturing her ability to remain calm.

He came into view then, and she fought to keep her face free of any emotion. How she’d dreamt of killing him, of shoving a blade into his heart and watching him die. He’d ended her life—her dreams—more effectively than Alex ever had. This mage, with his madness, had ripped her family apart. Her mother, her father, her sister and even her niece. The memory of that time tried to come to the front of her consciousness, but she cleared her mind, forcing herself to keep at the potion blocking her from her power. If she could just break that—maybe she’d have a chance of surviving this.

When she didn’t speak, Rage tilted his head, examining her more closely. The inked tattoos on his face were more numerous, but the madness in his dark eyes was the same. Dressed in ancient robes stitched with evil spells, he looked like some bald, depraved spectre. Except even to her dulled senses, his insanity oozed like a festering wound.

Dark, vulture-like eyes watched her, no doubt assessing just how terrified she was. She hid it, buried her fear deep and steadied her breathing. She’d not feed his sickness. He’d break her, surely, he would, but he’d have to work harder if he wanted to see her trembling in fear.

“I see they were correct, you are without your powers. A witch, powerless, yet still potent like a fine wine free of any sulphites, eh?” He laughed at his joke and she noticed with revulsion that he’d even tattooed spells on his tongue.

Another set of footsteps approached, but she refused to look. The potion still eluded her, like a thread refusing to push through the eye of the needle.
What if Alex is gone? What if he died in the blast? Could such a thing kill him? And poor Markee?

“We are nearing the proper time, my lord.”

She didn’t move her head to indicate she’d heard but could see how pleased Rage became. He tossed his cloak back over his shoulders revealing tattoos of faces—images of the souls he’d stolen with his magic.
Will my face stare out from that ghastly landscape?
His eyes turned wild, the light from the torch the man carried casting his face into a mask of evil. Dark, soulless eyes, mad eyes, stared at her greedily.

 
“Ah, yes, the time, it draws near. Without the wolf to worry over, we are free to drain the witch and use her blood as the key to unlock the past.”

Holy Danu, sweet mother of us, protect and keep me safe.

Alex! Oh, Alex, I can’t break this potion.

And now, she’d run out of time with Alex. She’d die here, and if she guessed at the dark magic Rage used, she’d never come back to be herself again.

Worse, she’d never be able to tell Alex she loved him.

* * * *

Agni stopped Alex with a hand on his arm. “This is far enough. The spells keep me from going farther.”

Alex crouched on the rocks next to him. The demon hadn’t said a word when he’d pulled Alex and Markee from the destruction caused by the human made bomb. For that, Alex might forgive him his friendship with Sorcha.

Now, crouched above what looked like a hundred foot drop, Alex examined the rough chasm.

“The hole is man-made,” he observed.

“I believe so. The magic users are reinforcing the area, especially the tunnels, with spells. You’ll need to get down—” Agni broke off suddenly and Alex tilted his head, hearing what had caused Agni alarm.

Sorcha
.

She didn’t scream, but the curses floating up from the deep were enough to make Alex’s heart feel close to bursting.

“You dirty, mangy son of a goat herder! You’ll never make this work. Never. Trouble will slice you in two after Alex puts your head on a spike. You—”

Her heartfelt cry broke off abruptly leaving a small echo of her voice between him and Agni.

“What the hell?” Agni spluttered.

“She’s bound, or worse. I need down there,” Alex growled.

A light floated nearer the bottom of the rocky bluff. When it did, his skin chilled and his heart felt like it stopped.
Sorcha.
He saw her clearly. She was spread-eagle over a circle hanging beneath him.

“That’s Sorcha, there. Fuck, they have her on a five-pointed star. This cannot be good, man. You need to get your ass down there, knock out the mages and break the spell protecting this place from my entrance. One of those mages—hell, what are you doing?” The blond demon broke off, reaching for him when Alex turned to drop his feet over the side of the rocky chasm. “You can’t simply drop down that far and hope to survive.”

“I’ll survive,” he growled. “I’ll kill the mages. You get your ass down there and free Sorcha as soon as I do.” He’d lived through the blast. He’d make this drop. His back was still healing, but nothing was stopping him from getting Sorcha out of here. She’d saved him, merely by existing, and he’d not let her fall to any more harm because of him.

“Yeah? Well, you are still healing wolf, you might want to go slow. But you kill the mage casting the spell—that one—and I’ll hop down after you and make it look good, too.”

Alex snorted, but he understood. Agni was in for the battle. Markee was too hurt. With him out of the game, Alex had Markee calling other, not so pleasant re-enforcements. The pup had argued, nearly busting open his wounds again trying to get out of bed. Markee was a good man, and after this, Alex owed him.

“Yeah, you do that, demon,” he said, and let go of his grip, falling fast but watching where his feet headed. He landed on the structure with Sorcha in a low crouch. Her scream cut short when the circle tipped and they dropped several feet. He assessed her face, then her slim body, pissed off when the new clothing registered.
They’d stripped her down.

“Alex,” she breathed his name with such a mixture of emotions he couldn’t pull them free enough to understand why tears suddenly shown in her eyes.

“Stay here, let me kill a few mages, then we can talk about this.”

Her eyes rounded out then she laughed. “Silly wolf, we don’t need to
talk about shit,
get me free, damn it!”

“Kill him!” a man screamed, breaking into their discussion.

“Hold on,” he yelled and sliced the ropes at her arms. “Get your legs free.”

“What? Are you nuts? No, no, don’t do that!” she screamed when he jumped free and pulled his broad sword. Sparks flew around him, some sort of magic he knew, but he dived out of the way of the blast and rolled, landing behind one of the black robed mages. He gutted him quickly and spun to face another tattooed man—not Zith, he registered—and deflected a burst of red sparks from the man’s hands by slicing one limb free. The man went down in a heap, huddled around his useless arm. The chanting had stopped, at least he could barely hear it, but where the man was that still kept Agni back, he couldn’t pin point.

He quickly scanned the chamber, spotting three remaining mages and beyond them another figure—Zith. The mage had changed in ways that sent a chill down Alex’s spine and settled into his bones. Bare chested to reveal tattoos along his torso—of faces of all things—he disgusted Alex. Deep within his mind, he felt his wolf rear up, snarling and snapping. Power surged through Alex’s muscles as he allowed his wolf free. Together, neither one nor the other in control, they faced off with Zith.

“Ah, I see you would like to seal our bargain properly,
Lykae Lykae
.”

“I want what was promised,” Alex growled.

 
From behind him, he heard Sorcha struggling with the ropes, the faint sounds worrying him. He paced to the left, away from the three remaining mages and towards his main target—Zith. Suddenly, he made out the sound of men running—more jackals no doubt. On his right, he registered that one of the mages chanted, a steady, even sound that Alex couldn’t catch until he slowed.
This must be the mage to kill, why else was he whispering?

“You were promised a pendant, but sadly”—Zith spread his arms wide, making wings of his black robe sand exposing more of his tattooed torso—“I found I have need of it instead. And the witch.” As he spoke, ten men burst through the archways leading into the chamber. Yellow flashed in their eyes, the sign of their jackals, as they took up positions in the room. By their sides, fierce, evil looking dogs barked and snarled. Zith raised his arm and Alex slowly comprehended that his spell aimed straight at Sorcha.

With a yell of her name, he tried to jump in front of her, but it was too late, he heard a muffled sound and turned to see she’d fallen back, clutching the circle as it wobbled.

Alex spun, facing Zith again, drawing a small throwing dagger. Not breaking eye contact with the bastard, he threw the knife directly at the murmuring mage. A scream filled the air—a man’s—and from the side of his vision he watched the mage crumple to the ground.

Zith’s face contorted in rage and he threw his head back and gave a mighty battle yell.

Wrong move, bastard
.

Alex leapt across the space and knocked him ten feet across the cavern and up against a wall. Immediately he used his sword hilt to bash the sick bastard in his tattooed face. He heard a satisfying crunch of bones, but immediately Zith used more strength than Alex had given him credit for, and tossed Alex backward enough to break out of his hold.

In his hands, a sword appeared and with a snarl, he tried to use the too long weapon. Alex caught the blade easily, knocked the sword to the ground, and twisted to use it to pin his opponent’s hand to the ground. Just as quickly, he punched Zith several times in the kidneys. The sick bastard snarled like a beast and Alex felt his skin tingle seconds before he went flying across the chamber.

It all happened so fast he could barely make sense that he’d had Zith in his hands and lost his opportunity to kill him. Ten feet now stood between them, filled with barking dogs and angry Jackals. Sorcha yelled his name behind him and suddenly Agni dropped next to him, sword already out to slice through the nearest men.