Magic Bleeds (46 page)

A hush fell over the Mole Hole.

Erra’s gaze swept the crowd, taking in the archers, the Biohazard, the vans, the equipment, the audience up in the ruins nearby . . . She raised her arms to the sides. The cape slipped off her.

Glossy red fabric hugged her body. It clung to her like a second skin of pure scarlet. My aunt apparently had developed a fetish for spandex. Who knew?

Gale thrust his hand through his cloak. His fist gripped a large axe. The orange light of the flames shimmered along the ten-inch blade attached to a four-foot handle. The axe probably pushed six pounds in weight. A normal swordsman would be slower than molasses, but with her strength, it wouldn’t matter.

She could swing it all day and then arm-wrestle a bear.

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Gale turned on his heel, walked five steps to Erra, and knelt before her, offering the axe on the raised palms of his hands.

“We should clap or something,” Curran said. “She’s trying so hard.”

“Maybe we could scrounge up some panties to throw.” I adjusted the binoculars to focus on her face.

Erra raised her head. Power brimmed in her eyes. She looked regal, like some arrogant goddess poised above the chasm. I had to give it to her—my aunt knew how to put on a show. Would’ve been more dramatic if she had seven undead instead of three, but hey, at least she had some flunkies to bring.

Erra reached for the axe. Her fingers closed on the handle. She thrust it at the sky. With a hoarse scream, power pulsed from her like a shockwave, shaking the foundation of the ruins. It slammed into me, setting my blood on fire. Curran snarled. By the Mole Hole, people cringed.

Needles burst from Erra’s red suit. Veins of dark crimson spiraled up her legs. The fabric flowed, thickened, snapping into recognizable shapes: fitted curaise, spiked pauldrons, gauntlets . . .

It wasn’t spandex. Shit.

I leaned to Curran. “She’s wearing blood armor. It’s impenetrable to normal weapons, claws, and teeth.”

His eyes darkened. “If I hit her hard enough, she’ll still feel it.”

I nodded. “My sword will eventually soften the armor, but it will take time. She doesn’t know you’re here. If you wait, you could get in a good shot.”

My personal monster leaned closer. “Still trying to keep me from the fight?”

I slid my fingers along his furry cheek. “Trying to win. She made no helmet—she’s too vain.”

Ancient or not, she was still a human and he was a werelion. If he timed it right, he could crack her skull like an eggshell with a single blow.

“One shot,” he said.

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“I’ll keep her busy. Just don’t bite her. Broken teeth aren’t sexy.”

He grinned, presenting me with a mouth full of finger-sized fangs. I rolled my eyes.

Erra took a step forward. For a moment she towered above the drop, light dancing over her scarlet armor, and then she plunged into the Mole Hole. Gale chased her, a soundless shadow gliding across the glassy floor. Darkness and Beast remained behind.

Twenty yards to the center and the bonfire.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Tamara unsheathed her sword. Fiery sparks flared at the edge of the crater. PAD archers lighting their arrows.

Eight.

The archers fired.

The barrels exploded, punching my eardrums with an air fist. An inferno drowned the Mole Hole, emanating heat. Within its depths I glimpsed Tamara, unscathed, the fire sliding along her body but never touching her.

The spectators cheered at the human barbeque.

The roar of the flames gained a new note, a deep whistling tune. It grew louder and louder. The flames turned, twisting faster and faster, rising in a spiral, like a tornado of fire. The cone of flame parted, revealing Gale floating in the heart of the tornado, his hair streaming from his head, his arms crossed on his chest. His body leaned back, completely relaxed. His eyes were closed.

So much for napalm.

Below him Erra stood. A red helmet hid her face and hair. The blood armor encased every inch of her.

Oh, good. Because it wasn’t hard enough before. She had to go and put a helmet on.

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The fiery tornado shifted out of her way. The helmet crumbled, revealing her face. Her mane of hair spilled over her back. Score. No helmet was good for us.

With a grimace, Erra swung her axe and charged.

Tamara struck, her sword preternaturally fast. Erra batted it aside like a toothpick and swung in a crushing reverse blow. The axe bit deep into Tamara’s shoulder, cutting through the collarbone all the way into her ribs.

Tamara screamed, a desperate sound of pain and fear.

Curran clamped his oversized hand on my shoulder. “You can’t help her. We wait.”

Erra caught Tamara by her throat and lifted her off her feet. Her roar smothered Tamara’s screaming.

“Is this all you offer me? Is this it?”

She shook Tamara once, as if flinging water from her hand. The noise of the fire drowned out the telltale crunch of bones, but her head flopped to the side, loose on a broken neck.

“Where are you, child?”

I rocked forward.

“Not yet.” Curran pushed me down.

“She’ll kill them.”

“You go in there now, we’ll all die. We stick to the plan.”

In the air, Gale opened his eyes.

“There is no escape. I’ll find you,” Erra promised.

The cone of fire unfurled like a flower and splashed against the rim of the Mole Hole, torching the archers. Tortured screams ripped the night apart, followed by the sickening stench of charred human flesh. Gale turned, and the inferno followed, roaring like a hungry animal. He cooked the survivors alive as they fled.

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All around the Mole Hole, people in PAD and Biohazard suits ran aimlessly, their weapons abandoned.

The idiot spectators still packed the building. Erra’s magic didn’t reach them.

“Here I come!” Erra thundered.

Charred, smoking corpses littered the opposite side of the crater. A thin female voice cried somewhere close, sobbing hysterically, a high-pitched note against the guttural screaming. At the far right, Darkness and Beast perched on the edge of the Mole Hole, untouched by flames. They must’ve circled around while we watched the human barbeque. “Wait,” Curran said.

I clenched my teeth.

A gust of air erupted from the bottom of the Mole Hole, lifting Erra to the edge. A moment later her three undead joined her.

“Go.” Curran released me.

I ran across the roof, grabbed the rope attached to the fire escape, and slid into the street.

SNOW CRUNCHED UNDER MY FEET. BEHIND ME THE Casino floated in a cloud of ethereal light streaming from the powerful feylanterns.

I had a simple mission. Get Erra’s attention. Draw her down the street, away from the crowd, so the shapeshifters could get behind her.

Yeah. Piece of cake.

I braced myself. “Strawberry Shortcake called, she wants her outfit back.”

Erra turned to me.

I waved my fingers at her. “Hey, Twinkle Toes.”

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A gust of air shot from Gale. I ducked, but not low enough. Wind slammed into me. The ground vanished and I flew a few feet and slammed against a parked truck with a thud. My back crunched.

“We don’t run from a fight and we don’t hide behind lesser men.” Erra started toward me. “You’re young and weak, but have no fear. I’ll help you. I won’t let you flee and shame the family twice.”

I rolled to my feet and swung my sword, warming up my wrist. “Shaming the family is your job. Nothing I’ve done could ever compare.”

“You flatter me so.”

She started toward me, bringing her goons in a triangular formation: Beast on the left, Gale on the right, and Darkness in the center. Keep coming, Auntie dear. Keep coming.

“I’m just giving you your due. Every war your brother started, you managed to screw up. You have a record of failure thousands of years long.” I spread my arms. “How could I compete?”

“Before you die, I’ll set you on fire,” she promised. “I will burn you slowly for hours.”

“Promises, promises.” I began backing up again. She followed.
Come with me, away from people.

Come withme, Erra. Let’s dance.

Darkness raised his arms. Magic pulsed from him like a blast wave after an explosion. The world went white in a haze of panic. I couldn’t breathe. My thoughts fractured and scurried off, leaving me lost and unbalanced. A luminescent haze floated before me, like a thundercloud backlit by splashes of lightning, and beyond it I sensed a gaping void. Nothing but calm empty darkness.

So that was what Darkness meant. Fear. All-consuming, overwhelming fear, so powerful that it tore you from your life and threw you into the void, alone and blind.

Rage reared inside me. I grabbed it like a crutch and pulled myself up, back to reality. My vision returned. I shook myself like a wet dog.

“Is that all? I thought it would be something powerful.”

She raised her arm, showing off the segmented gauntlet. “Where is your blood armor, whelp? Why don’t you cut your wrist and grow a blade? What’s the matter? You can’t do it, can you? You don’t know the secret of molding the blood. I do. All you do is talk and run.”

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My family was full of overpowered assholes. I kept walking. We were four blocks from the Mole Hole now. I had no idea what her range was. “No matter what you do or how hard you try, you will never surpass your brother. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.”

Magic splayed from Darkness in dark translucent streams, bending back, flooding the Mole Hole behind him and stretching farther and farther, to the decrepit buildings, to the hundreds of people packed like sardines into the concrete shells of the ruins. The enormity of his power shook me.

“Watch,” Erra called out.

The Darkness brought his arms together. No, God damn it, no . . .

A wild howl pierced the night. Another voice joined, another, more . . .

A torrent of people burst from the ruins behind Erra.

Fucking shit.

People streamed toward me, eyes mad, mouths gaping open, running like crazed cattle. I ducked behind a car. The human stampede thundered past me. Bodies thudded into the metal, making it shudder.

Screams filled the air and above it all Erra’s laughter floated, like the toll of a funeral bell.

A blast of magic ripped from Darkness. Reality fractured and I floated among the pieces, unsure who I was or where I came from. Thoughts and words swirled around me, round and round, in a glowing cascade. Darkness beckoned just beyond the chaos. I reached into the cloud and pulled a word out.

“Dair.”
Release.

Magic bit at me with needle jaws. I shuddered, shaking, the shock of the pain tearing the haze.

A body landed next to me, shaggy with fur. Mad eyes glared from a face that was neither beast nor human. A female shapeshifter. Her body snapped, twisted, jerked, and a coyote stood before me. She leapt up and dashed down the street, galloping after the herd of terrified people.

He didn’t send them after the undead? Not yet. We’d agreed. I jerked upright and saw Erra in the middle of the street, the undead behind her, no shapeshifters in sight. The lone shapeshifter must’ve been hit with a stray blast of power.

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Every inch of me hurt from magic spent too quickly.

You’re the distraction. Get up and do the distracting.

I got up and walked into the open, Slayer bare.

She started toward me, and I backed away. Half a block to go. Close enough to the Casino, far enough from the Mole Hole, the perfect distance for the shapeshifters to strike.

“Again you run.”

“Not my fault you walk too slowly to catch me.” Up close her armor resembled scale mail: bloodred scales, some large, some small, overlapping over her frame. Now why couldn’t I do that? What was I missing?

I crossed over the manhole cover. The last of the stragglers dashed by. The street was empty except for me and her, and her three corpses.

She charged. The world ground to a screeching halt. I heard myself breathe, my chest rising slowly, as if underwater.

In the three seconds it took her to cover the distance between us, I heard Voron’s voice from my memories. It said, “If it bleeds, you can kill it.”

She bled—her armor testified to it—and I was better.

Erra smashed into me. I leaned back, letting her axe swing past me, ducked, thrust, and sliced under her arm. Slayer glanced off. She whipped around, but I danced away. She lunged, I ducked and jumped clear.

“You can’t win,” Erra snarled.