Magic Burns (12 page)

Impenetrable.

The hair squeezed. Out of options.

The pain slashed my back. I strained and let out a single word.“Amehe.” Obey.

The power word tore from me in a flash of agony as if my insides were suddenly ripped from my stomach. The wall shielding the reeve’s mind shattered. Hood howled in his tentacle net.

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The gaping pit that was the reeve’s mind opened before me. I took it into my fist and squeezed. The hair noose loosened. The hair still held me, but the crushing pressure had vanished.

I looked through the reeve’s eyes and through my own. Through this strange double vision, I saw Julie curled on the floor in a tiny fetal ball. Hood stared at me. I sensed him waiting in the deep recesses of the reeve’s mind. He brimmed with hate, not just for who I was but for what I was. He seethed, his rage barely contained, a malignant terrible creature who wished the end of humankind. Disgust swelled in me, an instinctual xenophobic response, so strong, it threatened to overwhelm all reason.

I forced the hair to unwind. It let me go slowly, hesitantly. Even with a power word, I wouldn’t be able to hold the reeve for long. The moment I fumbled, Hood would seize control.

I stepped aside and pulled the reeve through the bars, through the window, into the kitchen.

Watch this, you sonovabitch.

Obeying my unspoken command, the reeve rammed the wall head-on.

Hit.The drywall crumbled, exposing the hard brick.

Hit.A red stain spread.

Hit.Her skull cracked like a dropped egg.

You won’t get my kid, you hear me?

The reeve drew back for a final blow, red and gray slime spilling from her head. Hood’s presence fled.

A second later I sent her into motion and bailed too, before the dying mind could drag me under.

Hit.

A flood of filthy liquid washed the wall.

My back burned as though molten glass was poured into the wound. The room wavered slightly. I clenched my teeth and raised my sword.

Hood waited in the doorway. The way was clear. No magic walls separated us.

I smiled slowly, showing him my teeth. “Three down. One to go. Come.”

The tentacles contracted, drawing the net tighter. I leaned forward a little, light on my toes, ready to charge.

The tentacles detached, rolled into the sleeves and under the hem of the robe, and Hood fled, as if swept from the doorway by a gust of wind.

I looked down in time to see Julie’s legs disappear under the table.

I DUCKED UNDER THE TABLE AND ALMOST TOOK Adive. My head swam. Purple circles
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flared in my eyes, blocking the view of the house, as sharp pain seared my back. Not good.

“Julie, we have to go.”

She hit the wall with her back. “You’re like them. Like the People.”

“No. Completely different.”Exactly like the People. I’m so like the People, that if you knew, you’d run away screaming. “We have to go, Julie. We can’t stay here. There might be more of these things out there and we have a busted door and a busted ward on the window. We’ve got to go.”

She shook her head.

The pain sliced my spine in half, wringing tears from my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time something had hurt so much. I forced my voice to go soft. “Julie, I’m still me. I swear to you I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe. But now we have to run, before he comes back with more of those reeve things. Come on, sweetheart. Come on out. Please.”

She swallowed and took my hand. I helped her from under the table.

“That’s my girl. Come.”

“What kind of magic was that?”

“The forbidden kind. You can never tell anyone I used it or I’ll be in trouble.” The power words commanded the magic itself. They were primal words. It wasn’t enough to know them, one had to own them and there were no do-overs: one conquered them or died. The most accomplished mages had two or three. I had six and I didn’t want to explain why. They were my weapon of last resort.

“Your back…”

“I know.”

There was only one place within reach that offered stronger protection than my apartment: the Order.

Under the Order lay the vault. Its wards were impenetrable, and its armored door would take a focused fire from a howitzer to break.

I tried the phone. Still out. There would be no pickup for us from the Order.

A fifteen-minute run separated us from the Order’s building. Twenty with the kid in tow. Piece of cake. I could do this. I just needed something to dull the pain. Just for a little bit. And then I’d be fine.

There was a regeneration kit in the bathroom. I took a step toward the door. A streak of heat ran up my spine and exploded into a jagged hot pain in the base of my neck. It ripped at my bones, twisted my tendons, and dragged me down to my knees. I hit the floor hard, dug my saber into the wood, and clung to it, struggling to stay upright. I had a kid to protect.

The room melted out of focus. The walls sprouted fuzz and bent, like waves threatening to drown me. I smelled my own blood. Julie grabbed my arm and sobbed. “You gotta get up. Come on! Don’t you die!

Don’t die!”

“It will be okay,” I whispered. “It will be okay.”

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The magic drained from the world. The tech flared, bringing with it a new burst of pain.

I had to guard the door. It was all I could do.

I WAS DRIFTING IN AND OUT, CLAWING MY WAYthrough the fog into consciousness, when I felt someone approach. I slashed on instinct and missed.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Curran’s voice said.

Rescued by the Beast Lord. Oh the irony.

“Will she be okay?” Julie’s voice asked.

“Yeah,” he said. I felt myself being lifted as Curran scooped me off the floor. “She’ll be fine. Come with me. You’re safe now.”

THE BED WAS UNBELIEVABLY COMFORTABLE. FOR Ablissfully long moment I rested, half-drowned in the luxury of soft sheets. The pain had receded, still there, lurking in the small of my back, but dulled and accompanied by the soothing warmth of well-done medmagic. I was alive. That simple fact made me unbelievably happy. As I snuggled deeper into the pillow, I saw a sliver of white on the blanket next to me. I reached over and touched Slayer’s blade.

“Awake, my lady fair?” said a familiar voice. Doolittle. The self-proclaimed physician to all things Pack and wild. He sat in a chair by a reading lamp, an ancient, dog-eared paperback on his lap. He hadn’t changed a bit—still the same blue-black skin, the same gray hair, and the same small smile. He had patched me up twice during the Red Point Stalker investigation, and there was no better medmage in Atlanta.

I hugged my pillow. “We meet again, Doctor.”

“Indeed we do.”

“There was a girl with me?”

“She’s downstairs. Being entertained by Derek. I daresay she much enjoys his company.”

Derek of the huge brown eyes and the knockdown smile. Poor Red didn’t stand a chance.

“What was wrong with me?” I didn’t insult him by asking about my bloody clothes. I knew he’d burned them.

“You were poisoned. You do test my skills every time we meet.”

“I’m sorry. Thank you for saving me.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. You were saved by the flare. The deep magic makes all spells more
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potent. Including those of your humble medmage.”

Icy claws skittered up my spine. “Was it really that close?”

He nodded.

I had almost died. I could think of a number of times I had almost died, but never before while a child depended on me for protection.Great going, Kate. You just had to stand there with your back to the window. Dumbass.

As soon as I could walk, I had to find a safe place for Julie. The thought of those long claws ripping into her was too much for me.

“Where am I?”

“In the Pack’s Southeast office. There was some thought of bringing you to the Keep, but the consensus was you wouldn’t make it.”

We were repeating the same conversation we’d had ten weeks ago, almost word for word. Except that time I had brought down a crumbling skyscraper on myself and a few hundred vampires.

I grinned. “How did I get here?”

“His Majesty carried you.” He grinned back. That part was the same, also.

“Is he burned to a crisp or sliced in half this time?”

“Neither,” Curran’s voice said. If I had been standing, I would’ve jumped. He stood in the middle of the room. Behind him a young woman carried a platter filled with four bowls. “However he is quite put out at being awakened from his nap to go and rescue a fool who always bites off more than she can chew.”

Doolittle rose hurriedly, bowed, and left. Curran motioned to the table at the foot of the bed, and the woman set the platter on it and left, as well. The door clicked closed, leaving the Beast Lord and me alone in the room.

Oh joy. I hadn’t wanted to meet Curran at all, but if I had to meet him, I wanted to be at my best, because he was a mean, vicious sonovabitch, who enjoyed making me squirm. Instead I ended up helpless, in a bed on the Pack’s grounds, having been rescued by him. I wanted to fade into the sheets.

Maybe I could pretend to fall asleep and he’d leave.

Curran examined me. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks. I try.” He, on the other hand, looked good. A couple of inches taller than me, broad shouldered and corded with muscle visible even under his T-shirt, Curran moved with a natural grace particular to the very strong and naturally quick. He gave an impression of coiled power, a contained violence that, if released, would explode with terrifying intensity. The last time I saw him, his blond hair had been cropped too short to grab in a fight, but today he wore it longer, showing the beginning of a wave. I had no idea his hair was wavy.

Curran picked up one of the bowls, looked at it for a second, as if considering a matter of some importance, brought the bowl over, and held it before me. The aroma arising from the bowl was
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heavenly. Suddenly I was ravenous. I sat up and clamped the bowl with both hands. And let go, shaking my fingers. It was the temperature of molten lava.

“Idiot.” He set the bowl on the blanket before me and handed me a spoon.

There are times in life when there is nothing better than a hot bowl of chicken soup.

“Thanks.” For the soup and for saving my butt again.

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you get the surveys? They were…”

“On the dresser. Shut up and eat your soup.”

Curran took Doolittle’s chair, brought it over by my bed, and sat. If I reached out with my foot, I could touch him with my toes. Entirely too close for comfort. I moved Slayer closer.

Curran watched me eat. Sitting like this, relaxed, he seemed almost ordinary: a man slightly older than me, kind of on the handsome side. Except for the eyes. They always gave him away. They were alpha eyes, the eyes of a killer and protector to whom the life of a Pack mate meant everything and the life of an outsider meant nothing. He wasn’t giving me his hard stare now, merely watching. But I wasn’t fooled.

I knew how quickly those eyes could drown in lethal gold. I’ve seen what happens when they do.

Curran commanded over five hundred shapechangers. Half a thousand souls stuck on the crossroads between beast and man, each a spree-killer waiting to happen. Wolves, hyenas, rats, cats, bears, they were united only by two things: the desire to stay human, and loyalty to the Pack. And Curran was the Pack. They worshipped the ground he walked on.

“So that’s the secret,” the Beast Lord said.

I froze with the spoon halfway to my mouth. That was it. He had figured out what I was and now he was playing with me.

“You okay?” he asked. “Gone a bit pale there.”

In a moment he would drop the charade and rip me to pieces. If I was lucky. “Secret to what?”

“Secret to shutting you up,” he said. “I just have to beat you till you’re half-dead, then give you chicken soup and”—he raised his hands—“blessed silence.”

I went back to the soup. Ha-ha. Very funny.

“What did you think I meant?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “The ways of the Beast Lord are a mystery to a humble merc like me.”

“You don’t do humble.”

At least he still treated me as if I were on my feet, ready to defend myself, instead of being trapped in a bed, eating chicken soup. Speaking of soup…I set the bowl aside and looked longingly at the tray. I
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wanted more. The medmagic made the body burn through nutrients at an accelerated rate, and I was starving.

Curran took a bowl from the platter and offered it to me. I reached for it. His fingers touched mine and lingered. I looked into his eyes and saw tiny gold sparks dancing in the gray. His lips parted, allowing for a narrow flash of his teeth.

I grabbed my bowl and scooted away from him. The hint of a smile curved the corners of his mouth. He found me amusing. That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was looking for as the Order’s rep.

“Why did you save me?”

He shrugged. “I picked up the phone and there was a hysterical child on the other end, crying that you were dying, and she was all alone, and the undead were coming. I thought it might be an interesting conclusion to a boring evening.”

Bullshit. He came because of Julie. Shapeshifters suffered from devastating child mortality, with half their children being born dead and another quarter being killed because they went loup at puberty. Like all shapeshifters, Curran cherished children and he also hated vampires. He probably figured he would kill two birds with one stone: save Julie and stick it to the People.

I frowned. “How did Julie know to call here?”

“Hit a redial button from what I understand. Smart kid. You’re going to tell me what you’ve blundered into.”

It wasn’t a question, but I determined to take it as such. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He crossed his arms on his chest, making his carved biceps bulge. I vividly remembered those steel-hard biceps flexing as he hoisted me up off the floor by my throat.

“You know what I like about you? You have no sense. You sit here in my house, you can barely hold a spoon, and you’re telling me ‘no.’ You’d pull on Death’s whiskers if you could reach them.”