My Wicked Enemy (13 page)

“Fuck,” Harsh said. He pulled his hands away from his chest and stared at them like he expected them to be covered in blood. “She cut me.”

Nikodemus didn’t have time to react, because Magellan’s fiends reached the door. They couldn’t open it. Kynan grabbed the front mageheld by the collar and threw him out of the way. He whipped his elbow against the plate glass and
bam
. Glass flew everywhere.

With a roar, Harsh charged, and Nikodemus whirled to face this new threat. The fiend shot past him, taking down Rasmus’s last creature with a vicious slice of a talon across the throat. Blood arced into the air. Nikodemus punched into Kynan’s mind as hard and fast as he could, never easy with one of the mageheld. He had to go off memory. His best almost wasn’t enough.

Carson, meanwhile, had scuttled across the floor and had the gun in her uninjured hand. She trained it on the space once occupied by Kynan, but the big fiend was down for the count right now and not coming home to papa anytime soon. Her eyes were wide and startlingly green in her face, but she wasn’t shaking. She looked calm and controlled. He had the feeling nothing would have kept her from missing. She lowered the gun.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Nikodemus grabbed her good arm and headed for the door. Harsh reversed direction and snatched the prescription bottles and Nikodemus’s other purchases off the counter. Then he sprinted after them, shifting back to human form, though not as an aging pharmacist. This guise was nearly as tall as his other one and significantly younger.

On the deserted street, Magellan leaned against the side of his Jag, a hand-rolled cigarette in one hand. To get to the car, they’d have to get past Magellan and the rest of his goons. Carson raised the gun one-handed. Steady as a rock.

“Carson,” Magellan said in a low voice. “I admit I am impressed you are still alive. But don’t be a fool. You can’t start a battle where humans will stop talking about gang wars and start talking about shape-shifting monsters.”

She frowned hard and flicked the safety on with one finger.

“Good girl,” Magellan said with a sneer.

Right then and there, Nikodemus decided he hated Magellan more than anything on the goddamned planet.

“Now, give me back the talisman.
Por favor
.”

Harsh shouldered himself in front of Carson like he intended to take a shot for her. Guy thought he was some kind of cowboy. The wind changed direction and blew sweet-smelling smoke toward them. Definitely not tobacco, but Copa laced with weed from a few miles north where the National Forest system doubled as illegal farms. Magellan was self-medicating his magic. Probably had to now that he didn’t have Carson. Fucking addict. He’d bottom out soon, but in the meantime, Magellan was twice as dangerous. Nikodemus kept a grip on Carson’s arm because she was unsteady on her feet again. He slipped the car remote from his pocket and pressed the button. The headlights flashed.

Rasmus came around from the back of the store, six fiends following. Xia was one of them. Harsh growled.

“Keep a lid on it, pharmacy boy,” Nikodemus whispered.

Rasmus’s gaze lingered on the newly freed fiend. “Well,” he said. His raised eyebrows betrayed his surprise. “Isn’t this interesting? I thought I felt something.”

“No,” Nikodemus said. “It’s not interesting at all.”

Rasmus looked at Magellan like he could burn a hole through him at thirty paces. “Was this your doing? He was a useful creature to me.”

“No,” Magellan said. He drew on his cigarette. “I don’t know what happened to your fiend. Perhaps he wasn’t solidly yours in the first place.”

“And Ms. Philips? Perhaps she was never solidly yours, as well?” Rasmus asked. His gaze stayed on Carson. Nikodemus let himself slide to stone.

Magellan grinned and exhaled Copa-laced smoke. It wasn’t a nice grin at all. “She appears to be in need of medical attention.”

“Everything’s under control,” Nikodemus said.

Magellan lifted a hand and pointed to Nikodemus’s car. One of the fiends edged forward, and Nikodemus, working blind again because he couldn’t get much pull through Carson in her condition, cut off his power. Much easier with this one than with Kynan. The fiend was still mageheld, but he shuddered to a stop. Yeah. The problem with enslaving your help was they didn’t want to help you. Nikodemus smiled at the mage. At least this guy wasn’t a threat for the foreseeable future. “Touch my car,” Nikodemus said, “and you won’t live thirty seconds past your second mistake.”

Another fiend moved out of the shadows behind Rasmus and Magellan, and planted himself between Nikodemus and the Mercedes. This one’s magic flared hot. He wanted a fight, which was only his nature running true. Like most of the mageheld, he was conflicted even when compelled to do as commanded, because he also wanted to end the mage’s miserable life in bloody fashion. Nikodemus held eye contact with Magellan and said, “Get your boys out of my way or I’ll freeze this one the way I got your big boy in there.” He inclined his head toward the pharmacy.

“No.” Carson’s whisper echoed in Nikodemus’s head. Her magic swirled, heating enough that it fired him with exquisite pain. She was close to being out of control. Nikodemus wanted, just for a moment, to let the heat come. He wanted the magic in her at the same time he wanted to bathe in all that energy, drink it, eat it, consume any and all of Carson’s life force that he could take, whether it killed her or not. Not many humans survived that kind of intense contact with a fiend, at least not with their faculties intact.

“But she is very ill,” Rasmus said, hands spread wide. His remaining fiends held back. “Leave her with us, and we’ll see she is treated appropriately. In her limited condition, she cannot be much use to you.”

“Sorry, mage. She doesn’t want to go with you,” Harsh said.

Magellan took a deep draw on his cigarette and exhaled the too-sweet smoke. Carson coughed and waved away the smoke. Harsh backed up behind her, looming over her like a very large, very protective Rottweiler.

“She is in no condition to know what’s best,” Magellan said. He tugged on his French cuff.

“I’d hate to off another one of your boys.” Nikodemus cut off a third mageheld. Then another, in order to make his point. In his head, he felt Kynan stirring back to consciousness. Shit. That guy was not going to be as easily dealt with. He held his power at the edge of his control. They needed to get this going. One option was to let loose and see who was standing at the end. He hoped it didn’t come to that.

Magellan’s grin slipped. His remaining fiends stared at Nikodemus. The ones he’d cut off staggered, disoriented and about as useful as an unarmed human. Which is to say, not useful at all. “You haven’t got what it takes, either one of you. This is what you might call a standoff.” Nikodemus smiled. “You stand off, or I’ll kill all your boys.”

Magellan’s power flashed. Instinctively, Nikodemus drew on Carson. Deep in his chest her changed magic burned him, poisoned, twisted, and now with an edge of something else along with the chaotic remnants of whatever had happened to her at Rasmus’s house. He cut off the remaining fiends. And it was easy. He didn’t even break a sweat.

Carson stood by him, holding the gun and swaying, eyes wide, pupils so big they obliterated her irises. If he took much more, she’d die right here and now. A low, thrumming growl came from his throat, a match for the energy ripping through him. Behind them, Kynan came out of the pharmacy.

“Keys!” Harsh’s voice boomed in the still night air. He shoved the first-aid kit down his pants and held out his hands like he was a wideout and Nikodemus was Joe Montana down six points with a minute left.

Nikodemus threw the keys at Harsh, who snatched them out of the air but kept his legs and arms pumping for the driver’s-side door. He sailed over the top of the car and landed with a thud on the street. Nikodemus grabbed Carson, and they ran past two senseless fiends to the car. At the curb, he yanked open the back door, shoved Carson inside, and jumped in after her, pulling his feet back in time for the door to slam shut. Harsh landed in the driver’s side. Kynan threw himself at the car. The vehicle rocked.

“Whooo-hoo!” Harsh yelled.

Nikodemus rolled Carson to the floor and threw himself on top of her. The engine thundered to life. His head hit the edge of the seat as Harsh swerved into the street, dislodging Kynan from the hood. Harsh hit the gas and kept going.

Nikodemus kept Carson’s head down and looked out the back in time to see Magellan gesture ferociously. Kynan ran down the middle of the street, arms and legs pumping. The mage’s other fiends were pretty much useless. “Lose him,” he said to Harsh. “Then head for the city.”

A motorcycle engine screamed just as they turned the corner. From the front seat, Harsh saluted.

The car shuddered around a tight corner. Nikodemus braced himself over Carson. For the next twenty minutes, he stayed on the floor with Carson, keeping her under tight control until the engine smoothed out and Harsh said, “Bay Bridge here we come, boss.”

Only then did Nikodemus get them off the floor. He had to help Carson buckle up, because she still didn’t have the use of her arm, then himself, too, in case any cops were on the prowl for an easy ticket. “You’re bleeding,” he said. Carson shook her head, a tight movement of her chin. “Liar.” He took her injured hand and examined the wound. His makeshift bandage was long gone. Her fist was clenched so tight her tendons stood out like wires. “Relax your fingers.”

She shook her head. And damned if her fingers weren’t locked tight. He didn’t dare push her. The slash across her wrist was deepest toward the inside edge, and he could see where Magellan’s knife had hit bone. They approached the toll plaza, but they had FasTrak and didn’t have to stop.

“When we get home, we’ll get you some real-deal first aid, okay? But I don’t want you bleeding all over my car.”

“Get her arm above her heart,” Harsh said.

Carson lifted her arm. “I’m not bleeding.”

“Liar.”

“Only a little.”

He squirmed on the seat but couldn’t get his knees unbent because the driver’s seat was all the way back. “So, sweetheart.” He slid an arm around her, amazed that she was both conscious and lucid. “What the hell did you do to my man Harsh?” Nikodemus glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Harsh’s eyes on them. He’d buckled up, too, and kept the car at an even seventy-five in the middle lane heading for Yerba Buena Island.

“Nice to meet you, Harsh.” He leaned forward and stuck a hand into the front-seat area. His goddamned knees hurt. “Nikodemus.”

Harsh had a good firm grip. “I know who you are, Warlord.”

She looked at the back of Harsh’s head for a long time. “I can feel you,” she said. “But not in my head like Nikodemus.” She kept her wrist pressed to her chest. “Why?” She looked at Nikodemus. “Why do I feel Harsh like that?”

“Because,” Harsh said. “You severed me from Rasmus.” He changed lanes and accelerated through the tunnel. “In a manner of speaking,” he said matter-of-factly, “Carson, I belong to you now.”

“No!”

They both jumped, Nikodemus and Harsh, at her vehemence.

“Interesting,” Harsh said. “But it’s not at all the way I was held by Rasmus.”

“Did she really sever you?” Nikodemus asked. Because if she had, that was really fucking something. Maybe even a little scary, come to think of it.

“Yes. She did.”

How did a witch with no access to her magic manage to sever a mageheld fiend? Why didn’t he get even a whisper of what she was going to do? “You sure it was her?”

“Yes.”

“I’d say it couldn’t be done, except I feel you, and I didn’t before. Damn good work for a witch who can’t pull, wouldn’t you say?” He slumped sideways against the seat, trying to get more room for his legs. “She didn’t sever you, Harsh. She couldn’t have.”

“It was her. I felt her do it.”

“What does that mean?” Carson asked. “Sever?”

Nikodemus put an arm around her and got a little tingle up his spine when she leaned into him. “It means Harsh isn’t mageheld anymore. It means someone separated him from Rasmus and now he’s free.”

“How?”

“No fucking idea, Carson.” The idea that she could have severed a mageheld fiend made him queasy. She couldn’t pull, so how in the name of pick-your-favorite-deity could she have severed anybody from anything? They’d need an army of help if Carson Philips got her magic back. “Welcome home, Harsh.”

Harsh nodded without smiling. His nonpharmacist human form had short, very short, auburn hair and cheekbones a male model would kill for.

Nikodemus said, “Clean sever or not?”

Harsh shifted to maintain his speed up the grade. “Clean. Rasmus felt the rebound.” His eyes flicked back to the rearview mirror. “I can feel her, you understand?”

“How? Is she holding you now?”

“That’s not it,” Harsh said. “It’s a clean cut.”

“Huh.”

“I think I’d know, Warlord, if all that had happened was I exchanged one mage for another. And so would you.”

When they were on the west side of the span, Nikodemus gave Harsh directions to his house. “It’s not like with Rasmus.” Harsh said that last word like it tasted bad. “It’s just . . . I can feel her, that’s all.” Their gaze connected again in the mirror. “That all right with you?”

No. Actually, it wasn’t. Harsh the goddamned pharmacist thought Carson was with him. “It’s not like I can do anything about it.”