Bitter Night (38 page)

She heard footsteps approach, and a wave of Selange’s rich, floral perfume swept over her. Max clenched herself, trying to pull herself up. A heavy foot on her throat held her fast. She felt the brush of air as Selange knelt beside her and stroked a finger gently over Max’s swollen, pulped lips.

“Where did Giselle find you? You’re a pain in the ass, but I would have paid a steep price to own a Prime such as you. What a shame.”

Max laughed, a broken, rattling sound. “Couldn’t afford me, bitch,” she coughed.

“And I can’t afford to let you live.” Selange rose and took a step back. “Finish her, Thor. Then her witch.”

The foot moved off Max’s throat. She waited for the blow. It surprised her that now that death had finally come to get her, she didn’t want it. She tried to roll to the side, but her body was too battered to obey.

Thor’s hands slid gently around her jaw. “I’d rather not have to do this,” he murmured so that only she could hear. “If you’ve got any tricks up your sleeve, now’s the time.”

“No sleeves.”

“Then I’ve got no choice.” He paused. “Alexander was right about you.”

Was he? Max wondered hazily. What was he right about?

“They’ll hunt you down. Selange will not survive the month,” she whispered

Thor’s hands tightened. In a moment he would snap her neck. Max twisted and kicked, but her heels only slid across the floor without finding purchase.

“Thor! Get on with it.” Selange’s voice was sharp with fear and eagerness.

But another voice cut across hers, implacable and cold as space. “Get your hands off her now.”

Max stiffened. Tutresiel. She blinked, trying to see. She felt a caress of wind, and the dust and ash around her stirred, even as the clang of his feathers rang overhead.

“He’s talking to you, asshole,” Niko said from somewhere beyond her feet.

Thor’s fingers relaxed fractionally. There were the sounds of scuffling.

“I’ll slit Selange’s throat if you don’t step back now,” Alexander said, his voice so full of rage that it sent goose bumps popping all over Max.

Thor let go, his thumbs sliding gently over Max’s cheeks in something like an apology. He stood up. Instantly Niko was beside her. He pulled her to her feet, holding her upright. She could not stand on her own. Alexander had an arm around Selange’s neck and a knife against her throat. As his gaze ran over Max, his arm tightened and the point of his blade dug into the witch’s neck. She yelped. Thor tensed, and several of her remaining Shadowblades edged toward her.

Hands settled on Max’s shoulders. She flinched and started to jerk away, but then felt a cooling flow of healing magic spreading through her. As good as it felt, Giselle was more important. She twisted out of Xaphan’s grip. She could stand now, though her legs seemed made out of Silly Putty.

“See to Giselle. Please.”

She motioned for the angel to go, then followed, leaning heavily on Niko. The witch lay on her back, one bloody arm flung over her head. Her skin was papery and clung to a body that seemed hardly more than a skeleton. Bruises mottled her arms and one eye, and there were scorches on her legs and chest. Xaphan crouched beside her, his wings lifted and lightly spread. He frowned as he laid one hand over her heart. He looked up at Max.

“She’s very weak.”

Max felt like she’d been kicked, and she didn’t dare think about why. “Is she going to die?”

“No, but even with my help it will take her some time to recover. I cannot rebuild the flesh she lost to magic, nor can I renew endurance. She will need to be careful.”

“Do what you can.”

Max turned and started to fall. Niko caught her. She let him hold her as she looked at Selange. The witch was dusty, with a few cuts and bruises, but she was healthy enough. Max would have liked nothing more than to kill the bitch, but it wasn’t her call.

“Put her on ice until Giselle can deal with her,” she said to Niko. “The spell cages are probably short-circuited, and the same with the witch chains. Dose her with drugs and bind her. Keep her under so she can’t draw on her magic, and put a witch circle around her in case she wakes up and tries to break free.”

“And her Blades?”

Max eyed them. Most were wounded and healing slowly. “Bind them and lock them up. Make sure they get something to eat. When you’re done with that, start searching this mess. Find out who’s alive. Check the greenhouses.”

“Right away.” Niko looked at her, his brow furrowed. “What about you?”

“When Xaphan is done with Giselle, I’ll have him do what he can for me and then I’ll find her a bed and some food. That’s another thing. Make sure all of you eat something and move all of our Sunspear and Shadowblade survivors inside.” She rubbed a hand over her head. So much had to be done, and with the fissure in the roof, her Blades couldn’t be in here once daylight hit.

“When will the Sunspears be ready to work?”

Xaphan answered. “I have given them healing, but they need food and rest. For the moment they are still weak. The sun will give them more strength.”

“So sometime tomorrow?”

“Perhaps.”

“What will you do with me?” Tutresiel landed beside her, his wings folding. His sword had disappeared again.

“Will you help look for survivors?”

“Do I have a choice?” The bitter anger had crept back into his voice.

“Not if you want to keep your oath,” Max said, exhaustion and pain making her sway. She tensed her shaking legs. “It’s up to you. Go back to your Guardian for all I care.”

“One master isn’t much different from another,” he said scornfully.

“Look,” Max said, impatience making her snap. “Stay or go. I don’t care. The one thing Horngate can offer you is freedom from Marduk and no more compulsion spells. It’s a home, if you want it. You made the oath and you are bound to Horngate and we need help. So get on it before I have to kick your ass.”

She paused. The heavy feeling in her chest was more than exhaustion or the grief she’d been holding back at the deaths of so many. She was finding it hard to breathe. She panted shallowly, hearing a bubbling, liquid sound in her lungs. Darkness pressed against her brain. Her legs turned to liquid, and Niko’s arm clamped around her. He shouted her name. She didn’t answer. Instead she slid into sweet oblivion.

MAX WOKE WITH A JOLT. SHE FLUNG HERSELF UPRIGHT, braced to fight. Her hand tangled an IV pole and she barely caught it before it crashed to the floor.

“You are safe.”

She jerked around. Xaphan was perched on the back of a chair in the middle of the room, his wings folded, the flames flickering along the edges of the black feathers. He looked slightly drawn, his cheeks hollowed. His elbows rested on his bent knees with his hands linked loosely.

A quick scan of the room told Max that they were in Giselle’s suite. The floor and walls were buckled and the furniture had been tumbled wildly. One wall had a spiderweb of cracks across it. She was standing on a mattress that had been dragged into the middle of the room, wearing nothing but underwear and a tee shirt. A tube ran from the IV pole to her hand. Beside her, Giselle lay on a gurney attached to two IVs. Her bruises had faded, but she was so pale her lips looked blue.

“How is she?”

“She’ll live. You will, too, though you do seem to have something of a suicidal habit.”

Max grinned. “You’ve been talking to Niko.”

“I’ve been talking to everyone.”

That caught her attention. “Everyone? Who? How many survived?”

He nodded. “Many took refuge in the greenhouses. They thought the hot springs would protect them from my fires. There were several injuries, but none will die.”

Tears threatened Max again. She gritted her teeth. She was really getting soft. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “There must be something special about this coven. I’ve never seen any Sunspears or Shadowblades willingly fight so hard and suffer so much. It seems worth protecting. And I did make an oath.”

“You and I both know that you can get around a lot with a few mental gymnastics,” Max pointed out.

“Perhaps I think there might be something special here also,” he said with a level look.

“Yeah, right,” Max muttered. “How long have I been out?” She frowned. “What are you doing here with us?”

“You have slept for forty-two hours. It is now ten at night and the last of the sunlight is gone.”

“What? You should have woken me!”

He shook his head. “You were hurt far more than you know. I healed you, but my healing is different from what your witch does for you. It takes longer and it is easy to pull it apart until it is done. You needed the sleep. And Horngate did not face any threats.”

Max’s stomach growled loudly. She ignored it. “Why are you watching us?” And not somebody more trustworthy. She didn’t say it.

He gave a little shrug, an odd look rippling across his expression. “They asked me to. They thought I could protect you best, and they do not trust Tutresiel.”

“But they trust you?”

Again that odd look, a mix of uncertainty, incredulity, and exasperation. “You told them I was one of you. Apparently they need nothing else.” He shook his head. “The loyalty they have for you is astonishing.”

She flushed. “I need to go check on things. Are you all right here?” She paused. “How long has it been since you had a break?”

He smiled. “I am an angel. I don’t need a break.”

“Bullshit. But if you can hold on awhile, I’ll send someone to spell you.”

Her stomach growled again. She found a pile of clothing waiting beside the bed. It included her gun and holster and a pair of combat knives. She grabbed them all up and went into the wrecked bedroom to change. Surprisingly, the toilet in the bathroom worked. She eyed the shower wishfully, but contented herself with washing her face and hands, then found a brush and pulled it through her hair. The mirror had broken and the pieces had been swept up by someone. Just as well. She probably didn’t want to see what she looked like.

She returned to the main room and went to stand beside Giselle.

“How long before she wakes up?”

“She’s been in and out. She should not get up for another few days, and then she should take it easy.”

“She will,” Max said. “If I have to chain her down.”

“Try it,” Giselle said, and began to cough.

Max gave her a sip of water from a cup on a small side table. She was surprised at the relief she felt to hear Giselle’s voice. She frowned. None of this changed what had happened between them. Yet it changed everything. She might not be ready to forgive, but Max thought she could agree to a truce. “You know what happened?”

Giselled nodded wanly. “You saved us.”

“Yeah, well, I had a lot of help. Selange and her Blades are here and we have to do something with them. It’s up to you.”

“Send Selange home.”

“Are you sure? She’s going to be trouble. She’s not a Guardian; she won’t forget us. She’s the type that will hold a grudge.”

“There’s been enough death, and her coven needs her.”

Max nodded. “All right.”

Just then the door cracked open. Max tensed, but it was only Magpie with a tray. She stopped inside the door, then strode in.

“About time you woke up,” she said to Max as she set the tray on a hospital table and slid it over Giselle’s bed. She punched the button to raise the back of the bed. “The kitchen is running. Get some food.”

Max’s stomach growled again and she nodded. “On my way. Just as soon as I deal with a couple of things.”

That earned her a scowl from both Magpie and Giselle, but Max ignored them and headed for the door. She wanted Selange out of Horngate and Montana as soon as possible. There wasn’t much night for them to use, so she’d better get them started right away.

Outside, the corridor was empty. She turned toward the hub. Her muscles felt a little like tapioca and she was light-headed. The sound of voices reached her, and she followed them toward the kitchen and dining commons on the north side of the great hall.

In forty-two hours, much of the debris from the magical quakes had been cleared away, though the damage could not so quickly be erased. Max wondered how stable the undermountain complex was.

The scent of cooking food wound around her in tantalizing coils. She drew in a deep breath, her mouth watering. She stepped inside the dining commons. The long rectangle had kitchen and cafeteria-style counters at one end and a scattering of tables. The place was deserted except for Oz and Lise and two other Sunspears. When she walked in, Oz thrust to his feet and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him and lifting her off her feet. Lise gave a catcall as Max returned the hug. Oz smelled of sweat and smoke and sunlight.

“Dammit, Max,” he muttered, his forehead resting against hers. “I thought I told you not to do anything stupid.”

“It worked,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, and a lot of us are still alive, thanks to you.” He straightened. “Are you going to join us?” He gestured at the table.

“In a while.” She nodded a greeting to the other three. “I’ve got to go take care of Selange. Have you seen Niko or Tyler?”

“They are on guard duty. How’s Giselle?”

“She’s good. What about Tutresiel?”

“The angel?” His mouth tightened. “The bastard is around somewhere. He doesn’t sit still long. I’ve got Derek keeping an eye on him.”

Max nodded, not wanting to ask. She forced the question out. “How many did we lose?”

Pain carved deep grooves in his face. “Four of mine. So far. Liam could still go either way.”

Tears burned her eyes. “And my Blades?”

He ran his hands up to her shoulders, sympathy and sorrow softening his gaze.

She looked away. “How many?”

He drew in a breath and slowly let it out. “Six. Giselle and Magpie are the only witches left of the anneau.”

Slowly Max ran her fingers through her hair. An ache filled her, sharp and wild and more painful than she knew how to bear. So many dead. She couldn’t bear to ask for names, not yet. She pulled away from Oz; she needed to be alone. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

She backed away and strode back the way she’d come. Tears ran down her cheeks and she didn’t wipe them away. She turned a corner and stopped, leaning back against the wall, her arms tight around her stomach.