Blood Red (9781101637890) (35 page)

The opening of the cave looked as if someone had hewn an irregular hole in the rock. It was probably natural, but looked unnervingly man-made, as if something big and with tremendous strength, but rather clumsy, had cut it out with a hammer and chisel.

That evil blood magic muddled all over the ground before it made her just a little sick. She was beginning to wonder if that might be entirely on purpose, to keep things away from the cave. Would they be that clever?

Dominik was on one side with the crossbow, which he said he was “good” with, and one pistol. Rosa was on the other side, with the coach gun, pistols, boar spear and her knife. They didn't have any plans to use the firearms though, not yet.

The
iele,
as she had suspected, were not fighters of any sort. They had worn their mail coats as an indication that they were coming to Rosa and Dominik on a mission of revenge—presumably for the victims of the shifters, who thanks to the Old Man, Rosa now knew numbered in the thousands. But their work would be done—stark naked. That was their nature. They were supreme seductresses. It was a feral, yet innocent seductiveness, as natural and careless as a cat in heat. That was the weapon that
they
would be using.

It was daylight, and all of the shifters were in the cave. Most of them were asleep, thanks to the work of the Old Man. He had contributed some initial magic; small, yet powerful. He had put it into the heads of the creatures to seek their separate dens within the cave, alone, and had sent them drifting off to sleep. And then he had left, after Rosa had questioned him one more time as to the abilities of the maidens. It was clear he had done all he intended to do; that was fine. Her plans were based on what the maidens had said they would do, and every tiny bit of help was a vast blessing which she was deeply, deeply grateful for.

Technically,
she should not have had the aid of the
iele
at all. They were Great Air Elementals, not of Earth. But the
vâlva ba˘ilor,
the Great Elementals of the Earth, had begged their sisters of the air to come when Rosa had asked for help. And Rosa had, after all, opened herself to
all
of nature when she had begged for aid. So they had agreed to come, and when they understood what it was that was being asked of them, they had become avidly eager. It was clear that they had wanted revenge for a very, very long time. But the shifters were sorcerers, and they knew how to protect themselves. They had not, in the past, left themselves open for the
iele's
usual mode of attack. Only thanks to the Old Man were the
iele
going to get their chance.

They would not follow her orders, however. It was left to the
zâne
to intercede for her, and beg them to do certain things, in a certain order, for the
zâne
were of a fifth Element, that of Spirit, and Spirit ruled over all. Rosa had learned
of
that Element, from Gunther, but he had told her that there had never been a Master of Spirit, and never would be, for such a Master could command the very angels and that could not be permitted. She was, truth to tell, more than a little stunned that the
zâne
had come to their aid at all. She could only think that they had really come for two reasons: because Markos was worthy, and because it was past time for the shifters to end their reign of terror.

So now, she and Dominik were positioned just outside the cave, and it was time for her to put her plan into motion. The two
vâlva ba˘ilor
had already done their work; they had impressed the image of the cavern before them firmly in their minds, and given them the gift to see in the dark as clearly as the Elementals themselves could. Both Dominik and Rosa would know every inch of that cavern as if they had spent every moment of their lives in it. And the shifters would have no advantage over them when it came to the ability to see in the darkness.

Now the two
vâlva ba˘ilor
were gone, gone wherever the Old Man had gone. It was time for the next phase.

Rosa bowed to the beautiful, ethereal woman waiting beside her, bowing as deeply as ever she could. “Great One,” she said, formally. “If it be your will, would you speak to your sisters of the air, and say that we would, at their pleasure, have them begin their dance?”

A faint smile creased the spirit's lips, though she did not unclasp her hands. “You speak with great courtesy, little sister,” came the reply, as sweet and soft as flute played by a lover. “And they are pleased to dance, now.”

A faint hint of music came from the cave mouth. It was hardly more than a hint, and if Rosa had not been listening for it, she certainly would not have paid any attention to it. But in listening to it . . . there was something about it that was wild and . . . lusty. She sensed that if she listened closely enough she might start to be affected by it, as she had been affected by the Wild Hunter.

It did not grow stronger, so much, as nearer.

It was very hard waiting, but the
iele
were not to be hurried. Rosa had more than a suspicion they were enjoying playing with their victim; Dominik had whispered at one point that they had a very cruel streak to them, like the
wilis
she had encountered, the spirits of young girls who had killed themselves over love, or had died of broken hearts. Like the
wilis,
the
iele
were dancers. Like the
wilis,
when they got hold of a victim—in the
wilis'
case, any man, and in the case of the
iele,
virtually anyone who dared to spy on them dancing—they would dance their prey to death.

The compulsion to dance, once the
iele
or the
wilis
got hold of you, could not be denied. And unless another spirit took pity on you and protected you, it could not be broken, either.

Somewhere, inside the cavern, the
iele
had found one of the shifters sleeping alone; half-waking him, they cast their spell over him. And now they were luring him, step by step, into the open. The spell of the Old Man would keep the rest of the shifters asleep as long as nothing louder than the music of the
iele
disturbed them. But it would not be the
iele
dancing him to death that would kill him. The truth of the matter was that the
iele
could not hold him for very long; once one of the others realized something was going on, as a sorcerer, he could break their magic. That was why the Elementals had not been able to take their revenge before now.

Rosa tensed as the form of a beautiful girl dressed only in her hair came spinning and weaving out of the entrance of the cave. She was followed by another—then a third—and finally, the shifter, going through clumsy, slow dancing motions, as if he was dancing half asleep, followed by the last of the four.

He was . . . hideous. The same malformed head as the shifter they had killed, only fully human now. The same scabrous skin and patchy hair. He was filthy, and stank; his finger- and toenails were untrimmed, thick, and yellow, with filth and blood crusted under them. His facial hair was as patchy as the hair on his head, and he wore little more than a rag wrapped around his loins. He moved, or rather stumbled, through a kind of mockery of a dance. His eyes, a filmy blue, were wide open, and his mouth was agape with terror. His teeth were the only part of him that looked healthy. Rosa didn't want to think what his breath and body odor must be like—

The
iele
drew him further out in the open. They needed to get him far enough past the entrance that any noise he made wouldn't echo down into the cave. And just when Rosa was wondering what in God's name Dominik was waiting for, she heard the
snap
of the crossbow, and a silver-tipped bolt impacted the shifter right in the heart.

She ran out and made sure of him with the spear, as the
iele
stood around them, giggling.

This was why they couldn't use the guns. They didn't dare use anything that made that sort of noise, to wake the other shifters. They
must,
at all costs, whittle the numbers down as much as possible. It probably was not going to be possible to take them all down this way—the older the shifter, the more powerful he would be, and the less likely to be snared by the
iele—
but the fewer there were when the time came for a straight fight, the better.

She and Dominik pulled the foul body out of the entrance and into the brush where it could lie concealed, and took up their positions again. She was unsurprised to find he was wearing a copper medallion, like the others she had found. The
iele
clapped their hands with childlike glee, then skipped back into the cave, looking as innocent as the dawn.

The
zâna˘
looked after them, and sighed. “My little sisters are . . .” she seemed at a loss for words.

Rosa searched long and hard for something tactful. Finally she thought she had it. “Primal?” she suggested.

The
zâna˘
regarded her with faint gratitude. “Yes,” the spirit said, simply. “And they do take such enjoyment in what they do.”

“The Good God made us what we are,” Rosa said diplomatically, and set herself up for the next victim.

“Even so,” said the
zâna˘.
“Even so.”

E
VENTUALLY,
their luck ran out, as they had known it would.

There were, according to the Old Man, forty-three of the shifters in the cave. Slowly, the
iele
had led twenty-eight of them out, and all of them had been wearing the evil St. Hubert's medallion. But when the time came to separate the twenty-ninth from the rest, the well-practiced maneuver failed. They picked one who was more than half awake already, and could resist their magic, and he was
not
pleased at them.

They knew their luck had run out when, instead of music, a bloodcurdling howl blasted out of the entrance of the cave, and a moment later, the
iele
fled. They poured out in a stream of breasts and hair, crowding past each other and taking to the sky as quickly as they could. Which was—very quickly indeed. Rosa could only watch them go, as they flew away on the wind. They would not be back; the Old Man had already explained this; they
could
be attacked and hurt by sorcerers, and wouldn't chance being injured, not even for revenge. She couldn't fault them for that. After all, while a human could be philosophical about death, knowing he had a soul and presumably would be rewarded in Heaven . . . the Elementals had no such security. Any priests she had spoken to either vehemently denied that anything other than a human had a soul, or considered the concept dubious at best. So, as far as the Elementals were concerned, death was extinction.

The
zâna˘
at Rosa's side pursed her lips grimly, and vanished. She would join her sister in the cave, standing guard over a badly wounded, and slowly regenerating, Markos. Slowly regenerating, rather than quickly, because the shifters knew very well what silver did to their kind, and they had been torturing him with silver knives.

Or so the
vâlva ba˘ilor
said, and Rosa had no reason to doubt them.

They would not get any more chances at harming Markos. Not with two
zâne
standing guard over him.

Or at least the spirits would guard him for as long as Rosa and Dominik survived this—

So we must survive this!

The aroused and offended shifters were taking their time about showing themselves now that the
iele
had fled. That was fine; it gave them a little time to prepare.

Fifteen shifters, though . . . we have got to thin the ranks more.
She felt her muscles tense and her insides clench up. She refused to give in to fear, but she could feel terror lurking just beyond the wall of her will, waiting to pounce. This . . . this was far, far more than she had ever undertaken without a full Hunt behind her.

Or even
with
a full Hunt behind me.

As Rosa pulled her coach gun from the sheath on her back, another howl split the air and a shifter in full wolf form—which was, of course, immune to the
iele's
magic—exploded out of the cave entrance. Before Dominik could even take aim, Rosa gave him a welcome of silver shot to the head.

The coach gun roared and kicked; she broke the breech and reloaded, and aimed again.

The blast shredded the beast's skull; it traveled forward another couple of paces on its momentum, then dropped to the earth with a messy
splat
. But before it hit the ground, another leapt from the entrance, and now it was Dominik's turn to take it in the eye with a silver-tipped bolt, thriftily saved, for he had pulled every arrow out of the bodies they piled up to the side.

There followed a cacophony of enraged howls and growls from inside the cave, but nothing ventured out. The shifters had learned their lesson quickly.

Rosa whistled, and Dominik sprinted across the distance between them. They tucked themselves, side by side, into a little alcove where their backs were protected by the cliff and they would just fit together without interfering with each other. They knew better than to think that they had the shifters penned in there. Rosa had never yet seen a cave used as a stronghold that did not have at least one back entrance. This was not likely to be the first.

By now, the sun was setting, for they had been slowly picking off the shifters all afternoon. And under ordinary circumstances, the dark might have favored the shifters, but the spell of the
vâlva ba˘ilor
would allow them to see in the dark like a pair of owls. The shifters would not know that, and Rosa hoped it might make them careless.

At least, for a time, anyway.

She and Dominik strained their ears, listening for a stealthy scrape of claws on stone, or a panting breath. But the shifters were old at this game, and the rush of two of them from around the side of the rock took both of the magicians by surprise.

The one that leapt for Rosa got a chest full of silver shot, but Dominik didn't even have time to aim. She just barely missed being spattered by blood and bits and other nastiness. Dominik got a lucky shot; at such close range, the pistol didn't make as big a hole in the creature's chest as it would have a little further away, but he managed to blast through the ribs and into the heart, and the shifter staggered back about two yards and dropped to the ground. She backed up a half pace, all the room she had, and slammed a shell into the coach gun, and waited, her heart pounding, while Dominik made a clumsier business of reloading the pistol.

“How many is that now?” she asked in a low voice.

“Four out of the fifteen left. That's eleven yet to go.” He was breathing hard; from fear or fight-stress, she reckoned. So far as she knew, he had never fought, much less killed, anything before.

“Breathe deeply and slowly,” she advised. “The tenser you are, the more like you are to miss the shot.”

The cave had gone ominously quiet. The light was fading in good earnest now; overhead the sky had gone from light blue to the color that Rosa associated with the Virgin's robes, and there was just a hint or two of a star. It was rapidly getting cooler. But their eyes were having no trouble adjusting to the darkness. Curiously, it was nothing like the way she saw things outlined in Earth power—although that was definitely a component, with everything that was alive faintly haloed with golden light, the half-faded blood magic a kind of loathsome, black-red skin on the surface of the ground. No, this was very much like a bright twilight, except that everything was in its proper color rather than in shades of blue.

She picked up a faint scrabble of claws above them, and elbowed Dominik hard, jerking her head up.

They separated a little, both of them starting to breathe quickly. At the last minute, as if they were both thinking the same thing, she sheathed the coach gun at her back and he holstered his pistol, seizing the boar spear from where it was leaning against the rock while she drew both her silver daggers.

The scratch of claws
right
above them gave them a hint of warning; they flung themselves back and to the side, and an enormous shifter plummeted into the space between them.

He was in half-form; he had to have been to have been able to climb the steep side of the hill and negotiate the rock above their cleft. As he fell, or leapt, and landed between them, he lashed out with claws to either side of him. They were both immediately assaulted with an incredible stench. Rosa wedged herself against the rock as hard as she could to avoid his claws.

He was incredibly fast, even if he did look as malformed and sickly as the rest—misshapen skull, mangy fur, rough and patchy skin. He might look diseased, but he certainly didn't
move
like he was diseased. Rosa maneuvered for space and jumped back, but Dominik charged in with the boar spear.

Dominik either had incredible luck or incredibly good aim; he got the shifter right beneath the breastbone, and knocked him off-balance at the same time. Putting his back into it, Dominik ran the shifter into the rock wall; the spearhead bit into him and he screamed and clawed at the shaft. In half-form, these particular shifters seemed to have a particularly tough hide. Either that or the spear-point had dulled. Well, it was heavily plated in silver, and silver wasn't known for keeping an edge well.

Rosa had been keeping half an eye on the cave entrance, and dropped a dagger as another shifter, also in half-form, rushed out, coming straight at her. She didn't have time for the coach gun; she barely had time to reach for the pistol and shoot. And she wasn't nearly as lucky as Dominik; the bullet hit the creature's shoulder, eliciting a scream, but not dropping him.

He continued for her. On impulse, she dove straight at him, or rather, for the ground in his path.

That was the last thing he was expecting.

As he skidded to a halt and tried to grab her, her hands hit the ground and she tucked and rolled, somersaulted between his legs, and came up on her feet behind him. She had
just
enough time to unholster and unload her second pistol into his back, blowing a huge hole in his spine, when more scrabbling behind her made her whirl, pulling the coach gun off her back at the same time.

She caught a third shifter in wolf form in mid-leap with the blast of silver shot. She dodged to the side as the body hit the place where she had been standing.

Just as Dominik finished his with a savage twist of the spear. The shifter pinned against the rock choked, shuddered and went limp.

She gathered up her dropped weapons, rushed back to him and put her back to the rock as he pulled the spear loose and turned to face the open. She was shaking with fear now. She had never had to face this many foes with only herself and a partner. This would be the
perfect
time to rush them; all four guns were discharged, the crossbow was lying just out of reach, and all they had to hold shifters off was the spear.

Silence.

She quickly loaded the coach gun. “Get the crossbow,” she whispered, and with the spear at the ready, Dominik edged over to where it was lying in the middle of the open space. Rather than pick it up, however, he kicked it over to her with a sideways boot of his foot.

It skittered across the rock, making an unnaturally loud clatter. She snatched it up, and waited for him to get back.

Dominik edged crabwise back to her, and under cover of his spear, she hung the crossbow on his belt, reloaded the pistols and thrust one back into the holster beside it. He might not be good with it, but so far, at the close quarters they had been fighting, it didn't matter.

The cave, the cliffs above them, and the area before them all remained still, and silent.

After a while, as her rapid heart rate slowed, she swallowed down nausea. It
stank
out here.

There was the horrible smell of rank feces from the gut-ruptured shifter Rosa had gotten in mid-jump, and from the one Dominik had stabbed. Virtually all of the shifters had involuntarily wet themselves as they died, so there was the stench of urine as well. The bodies smelled like the worst possible combination of unwashed human and filthy canine. And over all was the smell of tainted blood.

Dominik must have been thinking the same thing. “At least they're dead,” he muttered under his breath. “I'm glad we dragged most of them away. I don't think we would be able to breathe otherwise. How many left?”

“Eight to go,” she said loud enough to carry to the cave, making a strong effort to sound completely casual, as if this was something she did every day. And she took care to speak in Romanian. Time to see if she couldn't unnerve
them
a little. After all, they'd cut the pack down from over forty, although the pack would not be aware it had been with the help of Elementals. “I wonder if these idiots know that I am Red Cloak?”

“I'm not sure they'd know what that meant,” Dominik replied, following her lead. “I think it's only the dogs of Germany, Austria and Hungary that wet themselves when they hear that name.” He
tsk'd
. “If they knew it, they'd have run before we even got here.”

“If they let our friend come out, I
might, possibly,
pull back long enough to let them run for it even now,” she said, carelessly. “That's not to say I wouldn't come after them eventually, but at least they'd have a head start.” Was there any chance she could bluff them into abandoning the cave and Markos, and running?

Then again—how much of a bluff would it be? She and Dominik and the Elementals had whittled them down to a bare fraction of the original pack.

“And what do you want with the wolf-man?”

The voice that echoed out of the black cave entrance was deep, and angry, and very loud. She couldn't tell what emotions made it sound so tight and gravelly.
Fear? Maybe?
She could hope. Fear would be much better for her purposes than rage. But there wasn't any uncertainty there that
she
could read.

“He's my friend,” she said. “And an Earth Magician. As, I have no doubt, you already know, sorcerer. You should have reckoned by now that we will do whatever it takes to win him free of you.”

There was a very long pause.

“You have murdered my sons and my wives,”
came the reply. Ah, now she recognized the emotion. It was anger. But, unfortunately, not rage. Anger was something that fueled the ability to think as often as not. There was a calm underlying this anger, a deadly calm.

“And you lot have been murdering for decades. You have the deaths of hundreds on your hands. We have a long way to go before we're even,” she called back, just as calmly.

But she whispered to Dominik when the silence fell again. “I think he's stalling for time, to get a better ambush set up on us. We must stand back to back, and get a little more into the open. I'll face the cave, you face the opening; I don't think they'll try going over the top of the cliff again, it takes too long and they can't see us as well. We might get a rush, soon.”

The edged together out into the space in front of the cave. At least there was a breeze blowing now, blowing some of the stench away.