Bitter Night (15 page)

He spat again, brushing a fly away from the blood drying on his stomach. The minutes ticked past. The pressure in his gut was getting worse. His head was starting to spin and his body throbbed with damage caused by his convulsions. He had definitely pulled muscles and tendons and maybe separated some ribs. He needed sleep and food and a lot of both. He did not think he was going to get either soon.

A crackling from behind his right shoulder made him drop down beside the boulder, twisting around as he did. He swallowed the cry of pain that followed. His fingers curled around a stone and he hefted it, ready. Adrenaline surged through him, and he forced himself to breathe slowly and steadily, despite the pressure against his lungs.

Then Max appeared out of the trees. She jogged fluidly along the edge of the gully. A backpack was slung over her shoulders and she had changed her clothes. She wore loose black jeans and a close-fitting, long-sleeved, black T-shirt. A baseball cap turned backward covered her short blond hair. Her feet remained bare, her wounds still seeping and raw and black with char. In her right hand she carried a .45.

She had been prepared for trouble. Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he let go of the rock he held and pushed himself upright to sit back on the boulder. She was good’savvy and tough. Maybe they would get out of this alive after all.

“Here.”

She shoved the gun behind her into her waistband and dug a couple of powerbars from her pack. He tore the first one open and gobbled it in two bites, and quickly did the same with the second.

She crouched beside him, pressing her fingers against his distended belly. Pain flared. A long, twitching shudder rolled through him. His hands clamped into fists.

“Your exterior wounds have stopped bleeding, but you’re still leaking inside. It usually helps to cut a hole or two to drain things, but that will have to wait. Probably should have waited on the food. It’ll boost your healing, but it’s going to make it hurt worse.”

She sounded apologetic, surprising him again. Then he caught the meaning of her words.

“Usually?”

She nodded, not looking at him as she stood. “I told you before, I’m a very good victim, and Giselle likes to practice. Let’s go.”

Alexander gaped. “She ...You ...I do not understand.”

“You don’t have to. Probably better if you don’t.”

She did not give him the chance to say anything else. She pulled him up, putting her arm around his waist and hurrying him along the top of the ravine, pushing him faster than before. His gut was screaming. The power-bars seemed to have set off a bomb in his stomach. He kept moving, focusing entirely on his feet, letting her guide them. It was the best he could do.

They followed a deer track along a ridge, slowing at last as they came to the edge of a canyon wall, its steep slope pocked with bushes and clumps of grass.

“Careful,” she said, and pulled him over the edge.

They skidded downward, using the grass and bushes to slow their descent. They crabbed sideways to keep from sliding straight down, but at the last fifteen feet, Alexander lost his footing and went down hard, dragging Max with him. They slid down on their backs, rocks grating through their clothes and skin.

A cloud of dust puffed up around them, rising on the slow drift of wind. Max looked up at it, then sneezed. “Hurry. They won’t miss that.”

Her face and hat were dusty, and blood seeped from the scrapes on her left cheek as she reached down to grasp Alexander’s hand and haul him to his feet. He staggered and his knees started to buckle. Max caught him around the waist before he hit the ground. Another forty steps and she stopped, turning him around her hip and propping him on the fender of a black SUV.

She dropped her backpack to the ground and braced herself against the rear window a moment, her head dangling as she panted raggedly. She had lost her hat. Alexander could see the strain in her face, the set of her jaw and the thin slash of her mouth. Her arms trembled. Despite her exhaustion, she did not let herself rest long. She left Alexander sitting there, retreating back into the trees, pulling her gun from her waistband as she did. She reached up into the crook of an oak tree and fished out the keys to the car. She limped back, unlocking the doors with the electronic key fob.

She bent and picked up the backpack and tossed it on the front seat before returning to stand over him.

“Are you going to live?”

“I think so.” But he doubted it.

“Better be sure. Seems pointless to go through all this for a corpse.”

A waste of skin. Why did it bother him so much? “Then I will not die.”

“See that you don’t,” she said.

She gripped him under the arm and levered him up, pushing him to the front of the car. She opened the door and pushed him inside, before going back around to the driver’s side. She put her pack in the backseat and slid behind the wheel and buckled her seat belt. She glanced at Alexander, then reached across and did the same for him. He gave her an amused look.

“Bad driver?”

“The ride looks like it’s going to be bumpy.” She turned to look out the windshield. “Lucky for us, they left it too late.”

Alexander twisted his head to follow her gaze. A semicircle of Selange’s Shadowblades closed around the front of the car. There were eight of them. The rest must have stayed with Selange.

Mercury and Attila stood ten yards in front of the headlights carrying heavy, double-bladed axes cradled in their hands. As Alexander watched, they prowled slowly forward. The other six were more sensibly armed with shotguns and handguns. Thor had an Uzi. Brynna, in the middle, held her Glock dangling down at her thigh, pointed at the ground. Stupid. She knew better. Alexander had taught her better. But she made a habit out of arrogance. She was entirely opposite to Max, who seemed to be completely competent without any self-importance at all. It had made him underestimate her. If they survived, he would not do so again.

For a moment time seemed to freeze. Alexander looked into each face, reading death there. There would be no concession to the fact that until an hour before, he had been their Prime. It did not matter that he had taught them, guarded them, laughed with them, mourned with them, loved them. These people were his family. A homicidal family.

The moment snapped when Max tapped the barrel of her gun on the steering wheel. He looked at her. Her gaze was calculating and ruthless. Alexander wondered if she knew how to panic, or even worry. Then he remembered the hours during the Conclave before the challenge. She was not as cold as she seemed.

“You do know they’re going to kill you, right?” she asked.

“Yes.” He forced the word out through a throat tight with loss.

“Then you know what you have to do.”

She handed him her gun without waiting for an answer. She did not ask him if he would use it, or if he would kill her and try to escape back to Selange. He took the weapon, his heart thudding. All he had to do was twist his hand and he could kill her.

“It’s chambered,” she told him, her voice as steady as if she were commenting on the weather. “Bullets are hollowpoints.” She stared straight ahead at the closing semicircle of enemy Shadowblades. The corner of her mouth turned up in mocking humor as if she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t miss.”

“I will not.” Or so he hoped. His head was spinning and his eyes had begun to blur.

She flicked a quick glance at him. He could almost read her thoughts. Was he worth all this blood and pain? She looked away, clicking the key a notch and pressing a pair of buttons on her door to slide down both front windows. She jerked her head at Brynna to come around, even as she quietly slid in the clutch and put the Tahoe into first gear.

“Look, I don’t give a shit about this asshole. What’s it going to take for me to get out of here alive?” Max called, infusing her voice with nervousness.

Brynna, arrogant bitch that she was, bought it. She stepped in front of Thor, fouling his sight lines, a triumphant smirk twisting her lips.

As soon as Brynna tangled Thor, Max twisted the key, let out the clutch, and floored it in one swift, smooth motion. The four wheels of the SUV spun, sending gravel and dirt flying in a cloud. The vehicle fishtailed sideways, then leaped forward as the wheels caught traction. Brynna, Thor, and Attila lunged out of the way on the left. There was a thump! thump! as the tires popped over something’or someone. Alexander was leaning out the window and squeezing the trigger. Bullets whined through the air. He heard the popping as they hit the car, the crash of glass shattering, the boom! of shotguns, and screams and shouts of fury and pain.

Alexander hardly felt the impact as a lump of lead jolted his shoulder, burrowing deep into his flesh. A streak of fire erupted on his neck and another in his right bicep followed.

He shot swiftly, knowing he hit at least some of his targets. He aimed to kill, a horrifying and inconceivable act of betrayal. But his world had turned inside out and upside down. Though his feelings had not yet caught up to the fact, he no longer belonged to Selange, and these men and women he had called friends and family wanted him dead. He was their enemy, and a dangerous one. What he knew could kill them all.

The Tahoe swerved and fishtailed again. They were past their attackers now. A spray of bullets crashed through the rear window and pelted the back of the seats. Max was in third gear and shifting to fourth. The tires screeched on the road and they sped around a jut of rock and skimmed along the winding road, the dense trees screening them from their pursuers. Alexander slumped against the doorjamb, letting his eyes drift shut, his hand still firm on the gun resting on his thigh.

Max slowed down only slightly when she hit the gravel road leading to the edge of the veil. The jolting of the car made Alexander’s wounds flare. He gritted his teeth.

“Are you all right?” Her voice was as calm as previously, though she sounded tired. So. She did have limits after all. It was more comforting than it should have been. He felt as if he’d been mauled by rhinos, and she was acting no worse for wear. It was embarrassing as hell.

“Not particularly,” he said slowly, deciding pretense was impossible. The spells protecting him were less potent than hers, or his wounds much worse. His strength had run out. He could not even hold his head up. He had three bullet wounds and his stomach was about to explode. He was having trouble breathing, and his heart was beginning to flutter weakly. Max’s gun dropped to the floorboards with a thud.

“You said you wouldn’t die,” she reminded him. “Did you lie?”

“Not so far.”

“I don’t like liars.”

“I will remember that.”

“You do that.”

Suddenly the Tahoe veered, diving down a steep incline. It jolted and bounced. Alexander flopped in his seat, unable to swallow his cries of agony. Branches and leaves clawed through the open window, and then the SUV leveled out.

“Hold on, if you can,” Max said in a strangled voice. Then nonsensically: “I want it to work. Please work.”

A heartbeat later, they slammed into the veil. Magic roiled around them. The engine of the Tahoe revved high as Max floored it. But they hardly moved. For a moment they were caught like a mosquito in amber. Then miraculously, the Tahoe began to roll.

A second later they were clear. The SUV jolted and leaped, even as Max eased up on the gas. Alexander wanted to ask how she had done it’how she had got them through the veil’but he was too weak. Beside him he heard a rattle on the console, then he heard her flip open a cell phone. It beeped twice as she punched a number into the speed dial and hit send. The call was picked up almost immediately. She did not bother with a greeting.

“Things went way fucking south. Is Giselle with you? ...Good. Get her out of here.”

A pause. A man was demanding to know where Max was.

“I’ve rabbited. Outside the veil. Going across the golf course now.”

Her voice had become sluggish and her words were starting to slur. There was a bubbling sound to her breathing. Alexander fought to open his heavy eyes and turn his head.

“Use the ...GPS. Be ...quick. I’m almost ...done,” she said haltingly.

Her hand dropped before anyone could reply. The phone skittered over the console onto the floor. The car swerved and straightened, then jolted and coughed as her foot released the clutch. A moment later the motor died.

At last Alexander got his eyes open. He twisted his head to look at her. Max was slumped against the door, her hands loose in her lap. Her eyes were closed. Blood ran from a deep gash in her scalp, matting her hair to her skull. The entire right side of her face was awash in crimson. The smell of blood was thick; he had thought it was his own.

His gaze wandered lower. He sucked in a ragged breath. Sticking out of her upper thigh was a knife. He recognized it; it was Brynna’s. She must have grappled onto the door as they made their escape and struck Max through the open window. Alexander had been too busy shooting out the other side to notice. From its angle, he knew the blade had sliced into the femoral artery. Because Brynna had not had a chance to jerk it out, Max had not yet bled to death. Shadowblades were hard to kill, but slashing the femoral artery would take out a healthy Shadowblade before any healing spells could kick in. Max was not healthy.

“Are you going to live?” He had to get her talking. Keep her here with him until help arrived.

Her lashes flickered. Her answer was slow in coming, her words barely audible through her unmoving lips. “Maybe. Maybe not.” Then: “Damn. Forgot to ...tell them ...not ...to kill ...you.”

Her body went slack’boneless and far too still.

8

THE SECONDS TICKED BY LIKE MINUTES. GRAY wings fluttered at the edges of Alexander’s vision. He blinked, holding hard to consciousness. He could do nothing to help Max. He had no strength to put pressure on her artery, and even if he did, he did not dare touch the knife. If he even jarred it a little bit, he could speed the bleeding out. All he could do was wait for help to arrive and hope she did not die before it did.

Alexander shied away from the possibility. Anger flared. He was not entirely helpless. He could at least protect her. Selange would not give up. Her Shadowblades would be tracking the Tahoe. He shook his head to clear it. Pain lanced along his neck and drilled through his arm. He choked on the pain, swallowing hard. But it helped clear the fog from his head. How long had it taken Brynna to get back to Selange? How long before Max’s Shadowblades came to fetch her? Who would arrive first?