Master of Smoke (30 page)

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Authors: Angela Knight

BOOK: Master of Smoke
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And I’ll use it to kill you, you little bastard,
the werewolf snarled.
Leaving your body was a serious miscalculation. You’re mine now. You’re dead, you and your cat. And once you’re gone, the godling’s power will be mine. As it should be—because I
deserve
it.
He pointed the axe at David/Cat, and magic exploded from it in a rolling burst of red fire.
The silence was
nerve-racking. The only sound Eva could hear was the steady pant of David’s breathing. It was too fast, and that, along with the glazed emptiness of his eyes, was beginning to seriously freak her out.
This isn’t good,
Fluffy said, a totally out-of-character remark for a career smart-ass.
Why’d you let him go? God knows what he’ll come back as, assuming he comes back at all.
How was I supposed to stop him?
And what’s with Sir Asshat of the Round Table? He looks like the last reel of
Old Yeller.
Eva dragged her gaze away from David—it took real work—and saw Tristan sitting with Belle’s head in his lap. He looked up and caught Eva staring at him. He glowered back. “What?”
“Uh, nothing.”
“She shouldn’t be doing this.” He said it through his teeth. “She’s not a field witch. She does seductions. Combat’s not her thing. Especially not combat with giant magic-slinging eight-foot werewolves.”
Eva blinked. “Seductions? That’s a job?”
“How do you think you get vampires? The three-bites-and-you’re-a-vamp thing is bullshit. You become a vampire from having sex with a witch. Or drinking from Merlin’s Grail, which is what I did.”
“Wait, you’re a vampire?” She frowned in confusion. “I thought you were a Knight of the Round Table.”
“I am. I’m also a vampire.”
“Is that why there’s no Isolde?”
“Would you shut up about Isolde? And no, we don’t drain people. You watch too much trashy TV.”
“Hey, Joss Whedon is god, Sir Fangsalot.”
Tristan opened his mouth, but before he could speak, David roared in pain, his big body convulsing.
“David!” Eva grabbed for him, but had to duck as one clawed hand swung wildly. “Oh, shit!”
Another magical blow
hit David and Cat like a hammer.
We’ve got to attack him before he rips us apart!
David thought desperately.
What do I do?
Cat snarled, an incoherent blast of animal rage and desperation.
I don’t remember! Ask Smoke.
David growled and threw himself at the image of Warlock as the werewolf lifted Kingslayer again. The figure sent another torrent of magic slamming into him, then vanished like morning mist. David shook off the blow just as the sorcerer reappeared to hit him again.
Snarling, David chased Warlock as he appeared and vanished, swinging claws and snapping teeth the sorcerer always managed to avoid.
It’s an illusion,
Cat told him.
Warlock’s using it to distract us.
David swore, knowing he was right.
How can we hit something we can’t even see?
 
 
“Oh, hell,” Belle
spat, her eyes flying open. She blinked, registering Tristan’s face above hers. “What am I doing in your lap?” She rolled onto hands and knees and scrambled toward Smoke and the werewolf woman. Smoke roared again, unmistakably a cry of agony. “Dammit, Warlock’s frying them. I’m going to have to go in.”
“Go in where?” Tristan demanded, lunging after her. “And why?”
“David—Smoke—oh, hell, whoever it is, he has the power, but he doesn’t remember how to use it,” Belle said tightly. “Warlock’s got those memories locked up in some kind of magic cage in his mind, along with the rest of Smoke.”
“Whose mind? Smoke’s?”
“No, Warlock’s. Help me control him before he hurts himself.” Smoke convulsed again as if someone was hitting him with a Taser powered by a high-tension line.
“I’ll take care of him. You keep your distance before he turns you into pate.” Tristan pounced on the werecat and straddled his chest, grabbing for the creature’s thick wrists. He damned near got dumped on his head when David arched like a bow.
“Get his left arm. I’ll get his right,” the werewolf girl snapped, pinning the cat’s right hand to the ground.
“That’s right,” Belle said. “Now hold him still while I go in after them.”
A furry thigh snapped up, hitting Tristan’s armored back so hard he almost bit his tongue. He wrestled the cat back down again and gritted, “What do you mean, you’re going after them?”
Belle trapped Smoke’s thrashing head between her palms. “They can’t break the spell that’s bound Smoke’s memories, but I think I can.”
“You’ll get yourself fried,” Tristan snarled. “Call Morgana. This kind of shit is her job.”
Belle had thrown her visor up, and now her gaze met his over Smoke’s head, fierce and determined. “There’s no time, Tristan! And I’ve already got a spell connection to him, so it’s me or he’s dead.”
“But ...”
“Let me go with you,” interrupted the werewolf girl. “I can help you reach him.”
“How the hell do you think you can do that?” Tristan demanded, heartily fed up with both the suicidal little bitches.
“He loves me.” Eva reached for Belle’s hand, engulfing it in her clawed paw.
“But magic doesn’t work on werewolves!” Tristan protested.
“A communication spell is very low energy compared to an attack,” Belle told him tightly. “Besides, Queen Diana says the Direkind have something similar to a Truebond, so we should be able to make a psychic link work.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’re probably fucked.” She and the werewolf stared at each other with a desperate intensity.
And nothing happened.
“I can’t ...” the girl began.
“Shhh!” Belle snapped. “I’ve almost got it.” She whispered something in French Tristan didn’t catch. The werewolf toppled over.
David’s clawed hand, suddenly freed, slapped Tristan hard in the helm. Before the knight could do more than swear, Belle fell backward, her body arching over her bent knees.
“Dammit, Belle, you’re not a combat witch!” Tristan spat at her unconscious form. “That damned werewolf is going to kill you.”
 
 
Belle and Eva
floated along the mental trail David and Cat had left on their way to the captive elemental. The connection between the two women was more fragile than the Maja would have liked, but there wasn’t a hell of a lot she could do about it, except hold on.
Until they arrived in a flash of magic deep in Warlock’s mind.
The first thing they heard was Cat’s howl of pain as the sorcerer launched a flaming psychic attack against him and David. Luckily, Warlock was so totally focused on his victims, he didn’t even notice the women’s arrival.
“David,”
Eva whispered.
“Shush!” Belle snapped. “We’ve got to free Smoke. Without him to draw on, Warlock will have a lot less power to use.”
Concentrating hard, she slid like a ghost toward the spell cage. The elemental reminded her of a gaunt sea lion, its glow dim as it swam in frantic circles, watching Warlock rip into David and Cat. He’d pounded the two so hard, they’d fractured into psychic chunks.
Fight him,
the elemental groaned.
You have the power!
“But they don’t know how to use it,”
Belle said in a mental whisper.
Smoke jerked toward her as she drifted carefully to his cage.
“Belle!”
Then joy flashed in his eyes as he spotted the werewolf girl.
“Eva, you came! I never thought you’d come for me ...”
She frowned.
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re part of him, and you’re in pain.”
“Do you know how I can get this thing open?”
Belle interrupted.
Smoke blinked great, luminous eyes.
“Yes, there’s a weakness. I’ve been working on it for days now. Here.”
The creature nosed downward toward the corner of the psychic lattice, where some of the glow had dimmed fractionally. Examining the spot, Belle realized he had indeed managed to weaken the glowing bars.
“I just don’t have the strength to finish it.”
“Luckily, Warlock’s concentrating so hard on the rest of you, he’s diverting power from the spell.”
Belle closed her eyes and drew hard on the Mageverse’s power, preparing the blast she’d need to launch.
“As soon as you’re out of there, merge with the others.”
Smoke stared at her, worry in his great, soft eyes.
“Warlock will attack you. He’s going to try to rip you apart.”
“Not if I distract him,”
Eva said. Before either of them could protest, she flung herself toward the sorcerer.
“Oh, hell!”
Belle launched the spell at the cage with all her magical strength. Light burst around it with the impact, great fractures appearing. Smoke pressed hard against the crumbling bars, trying to force his way clear.
Gritting her teeth, Belle gave the cage another rolling blast.
With a cry of triumph, Smoke shot to freedom in a burst of golden light.
 
This is suicide,
Eva thought, shooting toward Warlock’s back as he pounded her lover. She had no idea how to work any spell that didn’t involve turning into something furry. Yet here she was, attacking Darth Fang.
“You don’t have to work spells,”
Belle said in her mind.
“Here, it’s all about will. Just concentrate on how much you want to pay Warlock back for everything he’s done. You’ll be surprised at how much damage you can do.”
A slow, cold smile curved Eva’s mouth. She imagined sinking her fangs into Warlock’s neck and shaking him like a rat.
Suddenly she was on top of the wizard, her insubstantial jaws clamping into the sorcerer’s flesh. He roared in shocked rage. She ripped away a psychic mouthful, then went to work with her claws.
 
“Eva, no!” David
watched in horror as his lover ripped at the wizard, ignoring how he could hurt her.
“Bitch!”
Warlock roared, twisting around to rake his claws across her face.
“You’re going to pay for that!”
Blood flew, both his and hers.
He’s going to kill her,
David said through gritted teeth.
No, he won’t,
Smoke said.
Because we’re going to get him first.
He darted toward them, a dim blur of energy that rocked them as he hit.
They remembered.
Thousands of years of knowledge, of magic, of power, exploded in David’s consciousness like a nuclear bomb, stunning in its sheer savage magnificence. In a flash, the fractured parts of his spirit brothers slotted together, becoming one again. He roared in triumph, knowing what to do now. He could feel the magic waiting for his call deep in the Mageverse. And he knew how to hurt Warlock, even as the Dire Wolf prepared to direct a blast of magic at Eva.

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