Authors: Angela Knight
Master of Smoke (31 page)
“Get her out of here, Belle!”
David shouted.
David shouted.
“Right.”
The witch captured Eva in a net of will and whirled to dive back along the psychic path they’d used. Utterly focused on killing them, Warlock roared in pursuit.
The witch captured Eva in a net of will and whirled to dive back along the psychic path they’d used. Utterly focused on killing them, Warlock roared in pursuit.
David hit him with a blast of magic that tumbled him ass over ears. On the physical plane, the sorcerer’s huge body convulsed in his cave.
A savage pleasure surged through David. Now, after all these days of frustration and pain and fear, after seeing Eva hurt trying to protect him, he could finally kill Warlock. There would be no mercy. There would be no hesitation.
He would
end
the fucker.
end
the fucker.
David sent another blast into the sorcerer, fire surging from his melded spirit. Again and again he fired in searing concussions of magic that boiled into his enemy’s skull.
Warlock writhed in
the center of the focus circle, screaming in pain as his four remaining Bastards hovered helplessly.
the center of the focus circle, screaming in pain as his four remaining Bastards hovered helplessly.
The cat was killing him from the inside out. And there was nothing he could do about it. But he was damned if he’d just give up and die. He couldn’t leave his people unprotected.
Warlock knew what he had to do. It was forbidden, but he didn’t care. His people would have turned from him in horror, but that didn’t matter either. He had to stop the pain.
He had to live.
Warlock rolled over, fumbling blindly for Kingslayer. His fingers closed around the thickly engraved haft, and he felt its power sing a deep, low note in his mind.
Another blast ripped at him, and his body convulsed again, but he clung to his blade and gritted, “Wheeler! Wheeler, get over here!”
The leader of Fenir spoke from somewhere over his head. “Warlock? What would you have of me?”
Warlock reached up blindly with his left hand and grabbed Kevin Wheeler by the muzzle. “Your life.” Swinging Kingslayer, he beheaded the Dire Wolf with one stroke. He heard the other wolves gasp in horror.
Arterial blood splashed into his face, as Warlock began chanting the forbidden spell, collecting Wheeler’s spilling life force, dragging it deep even as another blast of Cat’s magic blinded him.
He wrapped both hands around Kingslayer’s blood-slick haft and focused all his will, all his strength, all the magic of his warrior’s stolen life force on a single thought, a single spell.
“Get OUT!”
David gathered his
power for the final stroke. He could feel Warlock weakening. The werewolf’s life force guttered like a candle in a draft. One more good blast, and the bastard was done.
power for the final stroke. He could feel Warlock weakening. The werewolf’s life force guttered like a candle in a draft. One more good blast, and the bastard was done.
And then ...
Dark magic surged, black and thick as tar, and
evil
, so evil he recoiled.
evil
, so evil he recoiled.
Warlock hit him
.
.
The blast slammed him right out of the Dire Wolf’s skull, tumbling him like a leaf in a storm, so viciously strong there was no fighting it. He opened his eyes to see a starry sky overhead.
Dammit, no!
he howled in rage.
I almost had him!
he howled in rage.
I almost had him!
There will be other chances, boy,
Smoke said in his thoughts.
As it is, we all live. That is no small thing.
Smoke said in his thoughts.
As it is, we all live. That is no small thing.
Furious, frustrated, David focused his attention on Eva, who looked down at him in worry. She’d changed back to human form, and he had to smile at her delicate, dark beauty. You’d never know she’d just tried to rip Warlock’s mental guts to sushi. David himself was Sidhe again, lying on the grass with his head in Eva’s lap. The last of his lingering rage drained away. “Gods and devils, I’m tired,” he said.
Darkness fell over him like a black velvet curtain, so heavy it smothered all thought.
Eva jerked in
alarm as brilliant blue eyes slid closed. “David!”
alarm as brilliant blue eyes slid closed. “David!”
Belle, kneeling next to her in the grass, reached out and laid one hand across his forehead. She blew out a breath in relief. “It’s all right. He just blacked out. A little too much magic and effort, plus the strain of having all his assorted pieces shoved back together.”
“Good,” Tristan said. “Let’s clean up this mess and get the fuck back to the Mageverse before Warlock shows up for round two.”
The witch looked up at him and made a face. “Slave driver.” She frowned as she looked around at the gory scene.
Werewolves sprawled in blood-splattered grass that gleamed black as oil in the moonlight. “I’m not going to be able to take care of this mess alone. I’m drained. I’ll have to get Morgana to send a cleanup team.”
“Great. So open up a gate and let’s go.” Tristan bent over David, picked him up as if he weighed no more than his house cat form, and draped him over one armored shoulder.
Eva rose anxiously to her feet. “What about me?”
“You’re coming with us.” Tristan grimaced and repositioned David’s weight on his shoulder with a little bounce. “Unless you want to hang around here and wait for Warlock to turn you into a werewolf-skin rug.”
Belle rolled her eyes. “You are such a charmer.” She gestured, and a tiny spark flashed in the air, quickly expanding into a rippling oval more than seven feet tall and five across.
“Dimensional gate,” she explained, noticing Eva’s wary frown. “It leads to the Mageverse, the source of all magic. You and I and our armored friend here all draw our power from the Mageverse.”
“Oh,” Eva’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “So that’s what I sense when I change.” Ever since the werewolf attack, she’d sensed a presence that was stronger at night and much weaker during the day, but which never disappeared. From the beginning, she’d instinctively reached out to it whenever she wanted to transform.
Apparently she was about to get the answers to a great many mysteries. She really should feel better about that.
Eva’s gaze slipped to David, lying unconscious across the vampire’s shoulder, his dark hair spilling down to brush the ground.
God, I hope he’ll be okay.
God, I hope he’ll be okay.
Belle stepped through the rippling dimensional gate as casually as a woman strolling through a door. Tristan followed, carrying David as easily as if he were a shawl. Eva took a deep breath, braced herself, and stepped through after them. Magic danced over her skin in a cool, tingling wave, and she shivered.
Then she was on the other side, and her mouth fell open on a shameless gape.
SEVENTEEN
They’d stepped into
a grove of cherry trees. White blooms glowed in the moonlight like cloud banks, and Eva looked skyward, her gaze following the puffy shapes—until she saw the sky.
a grove of cherry trees. White blooms glowed in the moonlight like cloud banks, and Eva looked skyward, her gaze following the puffy shapes—until she saw the sky.
For a long moment, she just stood gazing in dazzled fascination. More stars than she’d ever seen spilled across the velvety darkness in alien constellations, and the moon rode three perfect little clouds edged in silver and blue.
There was a feeling in the air, an intoxicating buzz that seemed to call the magic in her. Eva could feel it reverberating in her bones and her muscles like a deep, thrumming chime. It made her want to transform, to spill into her wolf and race the moon across the night.
A smile spread helplessly across her face.
“Don’t just stand there grinning,” Tristan said over his shoulder as he strode after Belle. “Come on. Arthur’s waiting for us.”
That woke her up. “Ummm—Arthur? King Arthur?”
“Don’t call him that,” Tristan told her impatiently. “He’s not a king anymore, and he hates it when people use that title. He’s Liege of the Magi.”
“Okay.” She hustled after them, emerging from the little orchard that was apparently some kind of park.
“Holy God, it’s Disney World,” Eva muttered, barely resisting the urge to stop and gape again. Tristan would probably smack her, and then Fluffy would have to eat him.
I’ll leave that to Belle,
Fluffy said.
She likes him one hell of a lot better than I do.
Fluffy said.
She likes him one hell of a lot better than I do.
Scottish castles, grim gothic towers, French châteaus, Italian villas—you name an architectural style, and somebody had built it along the cobblestone streets. Yet somehow it all fit together, gleaming under the moon, surrounded by rolling green lawns and flowering trees and topiary shaped like knights and dragons.
“Some of the younger witches get a little carried away,” Belle explained with an indulgent little smile. She’d dropped back to watch Eva gape like a tourist. “Everything here was built from magic. The more elaborate the structure, the more powerful the witch who created it.”
“It’s ostentatious,” Tristan growled. “Not to mention a waste of power.”
“But good practice,” Belle pointed out. “Once you learn to manipulate and stabilize magic on such a scale, you can put it to good use in combat.”
“Either way ... Wow.” Eva blinked as a tiny glowing figure zipped by, gossamer wings a blur. “Was that a—?”
“Fairy? Yep. Probably a courier carrying documents to the Sidhe kingdom.” Belle nodded toward a three-story stone house surrounded by great mounds of blooming white rose-bushes. A single massive oak tree presided over the house, its great branches spread wide. “And there’s Pendragon House. Come, child. It’s not every day you meet a legend.”
Eva’s brows shot up as she followed her new allies up the stone walk. “Arthur lives
here
?”
here
?”
“Expecting Camelot?” Tristan sent her a sneer. “Castles are drafty as hell, miserably cold in the winter, and you need a staff of a hundred to run one. Those of us with nothing to prove go for comfort over ostentation every time.” He paused. “Except for Morgana and that palace of hers. She always did have to outdo everybody.”
“Or maybe she just loves beauty.” Belle stepped up on the stone porch to knock on the polished oak door.
It promptly swung wide to reveal a soccer mom, the kind of slim, delicate blonde that always made Eva feel like a moose. She wore a peach polo shirt and dark blue skinny jeans, with white Nikes on her dainty feet. Actual Nikes, like she shopped at Target. “Arthur, they’re here!” She grabbed Belle’s hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Gods, I’m glad to see you.” Soccer Mom turned a dazzling smile on Eva. “All of you.”
Belle walked into the blonde’s arms for a quick hug before stepping back and beginning the introductions. “Gwen, this is Eva Roman, who sheltered Smoke when he lost his memory.” She turned to Eva, one arm still around the woman’s narrow waist. “Eva, this is Guinevere Pendragon.”
Eva had deduced as much, so she managed to shake Gwen’s hand and greet her without swallowing her tongue. “It’s an honor, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, please.” The blonde swept her into a warm hug. “I haven’t been a queen since before the Norman Conquest. Call me Gwen like everyone else.”
“I hate to interrupt the love fest, but can you point me somewhere I can put Smoke?” Tristan curled a lip. “He could stand to lose a few pounds.”
“Hey!” Eva turned on him, indignant. There wasn’t an ounce of fat anywhere on David’s solid muscle, and she should know.
Jerk,
said Fluffy.
Let me bite him.
Jerk,
said Fluffy.
Let me bite him.
“She’s in love.” Tristan rolled his eyes.
Hell,
Eva thought, as her cheeks heated,
I’m going to bite him myself.
Eva thought, as her cheeks heated,
I’m going to bite him myself.
Gwen sighed. “Tris, must you be so bloody rude?”
“Apparently,” Belle growled. “I’ve been working with him for days, and he seems to treat being a jackass as performance art.”
“Critique my manners later,” Tristan retorted. “I need to either put Smoke down or turn him back into a cat.”
“Come on then,” Gwen said, and turned to lead the way down a short foyer and up the stairs. “Though I would suggest that if you’d hit the gym more often, you might not have that problem.”
Tristan shot her a glare. “You want to carry him?” He shrugged as if to transfer David’s solid weight to the blonde’s delicate shoulders.
“Fine.” Gwen made a swift, sharp gesture, and David levitated off Tristan’s shoulder. A flood of sparks spiraled around him as if forming a cradle for his big body, and he floated upward in the witch’s serene wake.
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