Master of Darkness (5 page)

“And it’s evil,” a male voice added, so powerful and resonant with authority it reminded Justice of Morgan Freeman the time he’d played God.

Yet nothing human came through the door.

A white, long-haired cat galloped in, following what Justice first mistook for the biggest freaking parrot he’d ever seen. The bird’s plumage was bright scarlet, gold, and orange, its tail a blazing swath of color as it winged into the room.

The bird landed on Conal’s shoulder, and Justice realized it was in fact an eagle. Or some kind of predatory bird, anyway; it had a raptor’s beak and claws that looked like it could disembowel a deer. Magic glowed in its savage golden eyes.

“Where in the hell did you get a phoenix eagle?” Tristan stared at the huge bird with wary respect.

“He didn’t ‘get’ me anywhere,” the eagle said in that Freeman rumble. “I got him.”

The cat leaped into Aislyn’s arms, visibly shivering. “Oh, who cares, you big ol’ feather duster? We have problems! That thing will eat us all!”

“What ‘thing’?” Justice asked.

Miranda knew damned well they wouldn’t like the answer.

* * *

The two bodyguards
lay dead in a wide splatter of drying blood on the pavement outside the DCN Corporate Center. One corpse still gripped his gun. Judging by the scent of gunpowder wafting from the barrel, Justice thought he’d gotten off at least one shot.

Not that it had done him a damned bit of good. Both mortals had been bitten by something with one hell of a lot of teeth—and a much bigger set of jaws than any werewolf’s.

“The snake didn’t do this.” Justice knelt beside Tristan, Belle, and Miranda, as all of them studied the ragged wounds. One man had been bitten almost in two, while the other had bled out after a bite amputated his thigh. “No snake has this many teeth.”

“If it had been the cobra, it probably would have eaten them both.” Tristan rose and drew his sword, his eyes flicking restlessly over their surroundings. “Though considering these bastards are Shifters, I guess it could be the same monster in a different form.”

“The magical signature doesn’t feel the same.” Miranda frowned thoughtfully down at the corpses. “But that may not mean much.”

“Scent’s not the same either.” Justice inhaled again, once more picking up a trace of oily musk under the reek of drying blood. “Does smell reptilian, though.”

“Don’t you dare leave those girls, Conal Donovan!” Belle snapped into her cell phone as she paced around the corpses. She and Tristan had persuaded the Sidhe to remain in the building’s penthouse, guarding his sisters and the trio of enchanted animals they called “familiars.”

The cat was positive the DCN Center was under attack by something nasty. Apparently she’d been downstairs, begging a treat from her favorite feline-loving guard, when the security cameras caught something big moving through the dark outside. Danu had magically summoned Essus and taken the elevator up to Conal’s penthouse. Meanwhile the guards went out to investigate.

Where they promptly got themselves killed.

“We’ll find the Beast who did this,” Belle assured Conal. “Arthur told me he’ll send reinforcements as soon as they finish the cleanup in Mirpur.”

She stopped her pacing to listen, then shook her head. “No, I’ve put an invisibility spell over the scene. The police won’t be called unless you call them. Which I wouldn’t suggest you do until we’re sure the killer isn’t hanging around waiting to eat a few cops.”

Miranda spotted something on the pavement and stepped away from the bodies. Bending, she examined the smeared brown shape that looked like blood. “Is this a print?”

Justice joined her, leaving Tristan hovering protectively beside Belle. “Looks that way.”

“What the hell made it—the world’s biggest chicken?”

“We don’t get that lucky.” It did look a little like a bird track, assuming the bird was the size of an elephant. The print consisted of a pair of foot-long claws in the shape of a V, adjoining something that resembled a curled thumb . . .

Somebody screamed. A high female shriek, ringing with the distilled terror of a woman facing her worst nightmare. Something roared.

And the scream cut off.

Justice and Miranda exchanged a single flashing glance, and raced toward the sound of the woman’s despairing cry. Belle and Tristan sprinted after them. Justice knew a good bodyguard would get his client to safety before worrying about anybody else, but Miranda wasn’t the type to hide when an innocent was in danger.

He also knew he didn’t have time to argue with her, not when two men had just been slaughtered, and a woman was out there being attacked by God knew what. Besides, they might need Miranda’s magic to fight whatever monster her father had conjured now.

So Justice ran, reaching for the Mageverse as he went, drawing on its thundering power. Magic flooded into his every cell, searing flesh and muscle, jerking bone into impossible shapes, sending fur in a rippling tide across his body. A firestorm of pain blazed in after the magic. He clenched his teeth against a rising howl.

One stride later the pain was gone, and he was seven feet tall, bounding along on powerful wolf legs.

Miranda matched him leap for leap, having Shifted at the same time. Her thick fur was the color of a fox’s pelt on a long, cleanly muscled body. Even in wolf form, he found her beautiful, her body sweetly curved beneath its armor, almost delicate next to his powerful bulk.

Somewhere behind them came the ringing thud of armored boots as the two Magekind agents ran after them faster than any human—but not as fast as a pair of werewolves.

They shot around the corner side by side, only to slide to a stop in astonishment and horror at what they saw.

A freaking dinosaur lifted its head from the corpse of a woman who lay in a splattered pool of blood. Half the body was gone. The monster had taken the woman’s head off like a child biting into a chocolate bunny.

They were too late.

The Beast had to be fifteen feet tall as it balanced on two clawed legs over the woman’s corpse, a thick, counterbalancing tail whipping in the air behind it. It was covered in bright green feathers that clashed with the orange blaze of its eyes as it spread stubby wings over the woman’s pitiful corpse. Its bloody jaws gaped, revealing a set of teeth that put Justice’s to shame. The fucker looked like it could bite somebody in half like a Dorito. It had certainly taken a chunk out of that poor woman.

Right in the center of its head blazed that damned blue stone.

The Beast threw back its head and roared. The sound was still echoing off the surrounding buildings when the thing leaped over the corpse to dart toward them in long, bounding strides.

“This way!” Justice grabbed Miranda’s hand and whirled to race up the block, darting down one alley and up another, along a third and a fourth. Leading the Beast away from the busy section of town, looking for somewhere it would be less likely to find someone it could eat or take hostage.

The sound of the creature’s pounding footsteps receded; it was having a hard time getting through the narrow alleys Justice had chosen.

Not that alley, too wide. No, not that one, not long enough.
There!

He found what he was looking for in a pair of blocky redbrick office buildings; judging by the fading scents, the workers at both had knocked off for the day.

Perfect.

They needed to hem the big bastard in, give him less room to use his teeth and claws. The narrow alley between the two buildings looked perfect for the ambush Justice had in mind.

Risky. God, it was risky, but if he could just strike fast enough, he might be able to end this before another innocent died.

“Got a plan?” Miranda shouted as she galloped into the alley after him. She carried a battle-axe she must have conjured as she ran. “Because I don’t have a clue.”

“We kick its ass.” He jerked his chin toward the roof. “I’m going to hit it from up there . . .”

“. . . While I distract it from down here.” She lifted the axe and bared her wolfish teeth in something that definitely wasn’t a smile.

“Or we could do it the other way.” His every instinct yowled in protest at the idea of letting Miranda run that kind of risk. But if he could just catch the Beast off guard before it could raise that spell-shield, maybe he could kill it.

Before it killed anybody else.

Thud thud thud.
The dinosaur’s footsteps, coming closer.

Miranda snorted, looking toward the alley entrance. “I doubt I could hit Super Chicken hard enough to behead it, even in Dire Wolf form. You can. That makes me the decoy.”

Her courage made his throat tighten. Before he could talk himself out of it, Justice snatched her against him, despite the armor both of them wore. He expected Miranda to jerk away again. Maybe even slap him. Instead she stared up into his face, eyes fierce with determination. “I can do it, Justice. I
will
do it.”

“I know.” He ached to kiss her.

Heat flared in her eyes, as if she shared that helpless longing. She started to rise on her toes, only to drop back to her heels again. “Muzzles.” Her upper lip curled in eloquent disgust.

Justice laughed. She was right; werewolf heads just weren’t suited to kissing. “Don’t get killed.”

He turned and leaped for the wall of the shorter of the two buildings, hitting it halfway up. Digging his claws into the soft brick, he swarmed upward, fast as a furry SpideMan.

When he reached its flat roof, he looked down and held out a hand. Miranda gestured, sending a stream of magic toward him. An even bigger axe condensed in his palm. He grinned and gave her a nod—she’d given him exactly what he needed—then crouched behind the roof’s low parapet. And prayed.

Thud thud THUD THUD.

The dinosaur appeared at the alley’s entrance, a savage chainsaw growl rumbling from toothy jaws. Its gem blazed at them, blue with Warlock’s magic.

Miranda did a mocking little dance in the middle of the alley. “Hey, Super Chicken!” She hefted the axe in both hands like a baseball bat. “I got your secret recipe right here!”

The creature roared again. Justice decided it was supposed to be a raptor, though he’d read somewhere that a real velociraptor was only about the size of a German shepherd. This feathered bastard was damn near as big as a T. rex, a good thirty feet from snout to tail tip.

Which was actually a good thing, considering the alley was only a few feet wider than the Beast’s barrel chest.

Miranda raised her axe and charged, bellowing a battle cry. The blade exploded into a blaze of magical flame.

You do know how to get a guy’s attention
, Justice thought.

The beast roared again and thundered into a run. The roof shook under Justice with its pounding strides.

Holy Jesus, let us survive this
, he prayed, and threw himself off the building.

Justice landed on the Beast’s slick, feathered back, caught his balance, and lifted the axe to hack into its spine.

Before he could swing the weapon, the monster reared, roaring like a grizzly, short wings beating as its feathered tail whipped from side to side. Its head snaked around on that long neck and darted at him, toothy jaws open wide.

FIVE

Justice hadn’t realized
just how damned slick feathers were, particularly when the creature he stood on bucked like a rodeo bull. One clawed foot slipped, and the axe hit the creature’s shoulder instead of its spine.

And bounced right off in a burst of familiar blue light.

Crap. That was the same spell that had protected the other two bastards.

The fanged head shot toward him on its long, snaking neck. He jerked back. Dagger-length teeth snapped two inches from his face with a blast of breath that stank of blood and meat. “Jesus, Super Chicken, eat a crate of Tic Tacs.”

Another vicious snap. Justice tightened his clawed grip on the bouncing, slippery back and sought a better angle for a swing. Drawing the big weapon back, he hacked downward with all his magical strength. A blue glow burst around the axe, sending it rebounding with such force, it almost knocked him right off his perch.

Shitpissfuck.

Digging his clawed toes deeper, he bobbed around like a boxer to avoid Super Chicken’s snapping attempts to bite his axe arm off. Before the raptor could try for another chomp, its eyes widened. Snaking around with a shrill squeal of rage, it drove its toothy snout down between its legs.

Miranda leaped away, narrowly avoiding its strike as she brandished her axe. “Spielberg wants his costume back, cockbag!”

Super Chicken leaped after her in a feline pounce. The sudden heave of its back flipped Justice off his perch. He clawed empty air, falling. Feathered ribs flashed by. He grabbed a fistful of plumage and scrambled up the thing’s side again. Roaring in annoyance, the raptor threw itself at the nearest wall, trying to squash him like a spider.

“Shit!” Justice leaped straight up, twisting with a furious wrench of his body. The beast smashed into the building just below his feet. Brick shattered, the whole structure shaking with the impact. Justice hit the wall so hard he saw stars, felt himself falling, and clamped all four sets of claws into the rough surface. The axe went flying. Sucking in a breath tasting of brick dust, Justice cursed and watched it tumble.

An armored hand flashed up and caught the spinning blade right out of the air. “Need help?” Tristan called, and tossed the weapon back as if it were a tennis ball.

Justice managed to catch the axe without losing his grip on the wall. “Sure as hell do.” He grinned down at his friend in relief.

“Sorry it took us so long to catch up.” Tristan back-pedaled, swinging his sword at Super Chicken’s muzzle. It snapped at him with a squealing snort.

Beside Tristan, Belle feinted at the massive head with her own blade, and it jerked back, huffing in irritation. “I called Mirpur.” Which probably explained the delay in their arrival. “Twenty or so Dire Wolves just hit Arthur’s people. He doesn’t expect them to give the Knights any real trouble, but they won’t be able to give us reinforcements until they get rid of the wolves. Otherwise the bastards’ll eat the civilians.”

Shit. They were going to have to take care of Super Chicken on their own.

The raptor hesitated, red eyes rolling as if trying to figure out who to bite first. Damned if it didn’t remind Justice of a girl contemplating a box of chocolates.

Mmm. Crunchy with a creamy blood center.

* * *

While the Beast
concentrated on the Magekind agents, Miranda ran between its muscular legs and swung her axe hard, right at its belly. As she’d expected, the blade rebounded harmlessly, but in the instant of impact, blue glowing runes danced across its scales.

As she’d hoped, Miranda recognized that spell. It was the same one etched on Warlock’s armor.

The monster’s huge head darted down at her again, bloody jaws wide, magical gem blazing. She leaped away, glimpsed a clawed foot swinging her way, and barely ducked the kick before it could take her head off.
If I just had ten seconds to concentrate, I could work out a counter spell
 . . .

Super Chicken’s gemstone pulsed blue, and a voice rolled from it, deep, menacing. A familiar resonant baritone that seemed to throb with power.

Warlock’s voice.

“You turncoat little slut.” The gem’s blaze intensified, and Miranda could sense her father’s malevolent attention burning down on her. “Spreading your legs for Arthur now? It’ll gain you nothing. You’ll still die in screaming agony.”

She wanted to yell a denial, to tell the bastard—finally!—what kind of monster he really was. But her body wouldn’t obey. It wanted only to curl up in a ball, like a mouse quivering in the grass. Her instincts shrieked in panic as Super Chicken’s head tilted with vicious interest. A gesture she recognized. Warlock used to look at her with precisely that tilt to his head.

Suddenly Miranda was four years old again, running through a stone cavern lit only by her father’s blazing, lethal magic. Burning hair filled her nose with a nauseating stench. She could actually smell the reek of it, like an olfactory ghost. Her mouth filled with bile.

“I wonder how you’ll taste?” Warlock rumbled with the Beast’s mouth. “I think I’ll find out.”

As if in slow motion, Miranda watched those huge jaws gape, plunging toward her. Her brain shrieked at her body to dive aside, but her feet felt welded to the pavement.

Which was when a furry armored shape plummeted down out of the sky: Justice, leaping right over the Beast’s head. His golden eyes were wide, and stark terror twisted his lupine lips, but not for himself.

He’s afraid for me.

No one but her mother had ever given a damn if she lived or died.

Justice’s big body slammed into Miranda like a defensive end sacking a quarterback, tumbling her tail over ears out of the Beast’s path. The world spun, armor scraping and clanking as she skidded across the pavement.

Justice shot to his feet, squarely between her and the Beast. He gathered himself to leap clear. “Miranda, move! Get the hell out of the . . .”

The Beast’s jaws closed over Justice’s chest the instant before he could throw himself aside, snatching him right off his feet. Justice howled in agony. A lacy plume of blood arced from the thing’s teeth as they clamped into his armored chest. Blue light flared as the raptor absorbed the protective spells on the steel. The metal gave beneath the crushing fangs, and the dinosaur jerked Justice into the air, high over Miranda’s head. She screamed as massive jaws ground down hard, crushing through the steel.

It’s killing him!

She couldn’t let him die. Not Justice. Not the only man who’d ever honestly given a damn about her. She remembered the curve of his arm around her waist, his muscular body holding her close, somehow feeling warm even through his armor.

Oh, hell no. You’re not eating him, you son of a bitch.

Forgetting her fear for herself, Miranda leaped to her feet and charged, howling the shield counter spell she composed on the spot. A second pulse of magic conjured a pole arm, the ten-foot oak shaft tipped by a viciously barbed head. She aimed it at the center of the Beast’s scaled breast, right where the heart should be.

The raptor sneered down at her around Justice’s bleeding, struggling body, contempt in its tiny orange eyes, its gemstone burning blue and bright.
It doesn’t realize it just lost its shield.

Miranda hit Super Chicken at a dead run, all her strength and weight propelling her spear thrust. Blue light flared as the weapon hit the shield—and exploded through it as if ripping into a sheet of wrapping paper.

The spear embedded itself in the raptor’s breast, penetrating scales, slicing through muscle and shattering bone. The Beast roared in shocked agony, and Justice tumbled from its jaws.

He hit the ground with an armored clatter, blood spraying, limbs sprawled wide. Every instinct demanded Miranda run to him, but she knew the raptor wasn’t dead yet.

“Die, you bastard!” And she blasted every erg of power she could drag from the Mageverse into her palms. The spell seared her skin as it blasted up the pole arm like a lightning bolt. The rune-marked wood flared, bright as a torch.

Super Chicken reeled, squealing. Its blue gem flashed and went dark as, protective shield shattered, it could no longer absorb her magic. Werewolf magic exploded around it, and the creature’s massive weight vanished off the pole arm. The raptor became a wolf in a rain of blue sparks and fell hard. Thrown off-balance as her victim Shifted, Miranda staggered and dropped to one knee.

The huge blond animal hit the ground beside her like a sack of concrete, yelping as it struck the pavement. Before she could pounce, the werewolf rolled to his feet.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.
The bastard’s Shift had healed the lethal wound she’d inflicted. Snarling, the wolf took a threatening step toward her . . .

“Think again, you bastard!” Tristan charged up the alley toward them, his sword lifted for a decapitating swing.

The werewolf took one look and ran, yelping, tail tucked tight to its furry haunches. Bellowing battle cries, Belle and the knight raced after it, enchanted weapons trailing sparks through the darkness.

Miranda tossed the useless pole arm aside and whirled, eyes desperately seeking Justice. He lay in an armored heap on the dirty alley pavement. Unmoving. Her heart turned into a block of dry ice.

She raced to his side, casting a spell to strip away his armor so she could examine him. Dropping to her knees, Miranda spread her hands, sending her magic questing over his still, furry body.

He was alive. Barely.

Her eyes closed in a quick prayer of thanksgiving, then snapped open to catalogue the damage. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been—the chest plate had given him some protection from those vicious jaws. Still, Super Chicken’s teeth had bitten into Justice’s torso in a V-shape, breaking ribs and puncturing at least one lung, judging from the bubbling sound when he breathed. Blood rolled from the deep, ragged injuries to pool on the filthy pavement.

So much blood.

If he could only Shift, his wounds would heal, just as the Beast had recovered from her pole arm attack. But Justice was unconscious—probably as a result of a head injury, which was yet another worry. Until he woke, he couldn’t transform. And if he lost too much blood, he’d die, werewolf or not.

Miranda bit her lip, fighting panic. Normally she’d simply heal him herself, but his Direkind immunity to magic meant that wasn’t possible. “Justice, wake up!”

He didn’t even flick an ear.

Did she dare shake him? No, if he had a head or spinal injury, jarring him might kill him on the spot. “Justice, you need to Shift. Human, wolf, dog . . . Hell, I don’t care. Just Shift! Please!”

No response. His lids remained closed as blood pulsed from his wounds, widening the pool around his body into a sticky scarlet lake. It soaked Miranda’s fur as she knelt beside him, drowning her werewolf senses in its copper reek. Miranda ignored the choking stench and stared at him.

How do you make someone Shift?

She remembered her own first transformation with nightmare clarity. She’d been only fifteen, painfully aware that if her magic escaped her control, it would incinerate her like a match. And her magic was very, very powerful, even then.

The Direkind lost fully a fifth of their children to magic gone rogue. The Mageverse’s energy transformed some and devoured others, and there was no way to tell who would live and who would die. As a result, both teenagers and their Dire Wolf parents viewed that initial transformation with helpless dread.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t something you could refuse to do. Shifting was one of the body’s deep, driving instincts, like giving birth. You Transformed whether you wanted to or not . . .

* * *

She’d huddled in
the sweaty sheets of her bed that night, racking shivers alternating with waves of heat that felt as though she stood in the threshold of a crematorium.

Already burning.

Her skin itched so savagely, it was all she could do not to claw her flesh bloody. Cramps twisted her muscles into merciless knots, a precursor to the transformation. Yet as bad as the suffering was, her cold terror was worse.

I don’t want to die
. That thought chased its own tail through her mind, repeating over and over until she wanted to scream in terror and despair. She wondered if anyone would care if they walked in to find nothing but ashes in her bed . . .

Gerald wouldn’t give a damn. Warlock would be irritated that sixteen years of plotting had come to nothing.

And her mother . . .

The bedroom door flew open. Joelle Drake strode in, pale as fresh snow, shoulders squared with a determination that was so painfully rare for her. Though she’d suffered under her husband’s fists for years, Joelle considered it her duty as a Chosen aristocrat to endure in silence. Yet now, as she looked down on her daughter’s helpless terror, her eyes shone with love—and a fierce courage Miranda had never known she possessed. “Shift with me.” It was a demand, delivered in a strong, sure voice that left no room for the possibility of death.

And her mother transformed, Dire Wolf magic blazing in the darkened room in a blinding sheet of azure energy.

Miranda felt that magic lick at hers, plumes of energy reaching into the pulsing core of her power, coaxing it hotter, brighter.

Until, like a burning fuse hitting a stack of TNT, Joelle’s magic detonated her own. Merlin’s ancient spell flashed through bone, muscle, and flesh, Shifting every cell. For the first time, Miranda felt the full power of the Mageverse in all its violent glory. She’d never see herself the same way again.

The explosion of magic faded slowly like a dying star as pain drained into weary peace. She felt as if she stood on a silent mountaintop, snow drifting cool and soothing over her stretched, burning skin.

Miranda met Joelle’s golden wolf gaze, saw the pride and relief in those glowing irises. Usually when her mother Shifted, Joelle towered over Miranda. Now they stood eye to eye.

Miranda realized that her own pointed ears almost brushed the ceiling, and thick, sharp talons tipped her red-furred fingers as she balanced on clawed feet.