Shadow City (2 page)
Acknowledgments
T
HANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING
, J
EN
H
EDDLE
. I
WILL MISS
you. You’ve made my work so much better. Thanks also to Lucienne Diver, Christy Keyes, Melissa Sawmiller, Wendy Keebler, and Julia Fincher. Thanks also to all the people at Pocket who have worked behind the scenes to turn this into a book. There are no doubt others I should be thanking who helped me in the course of this book, and though I may have neglected to mention you here, know that you are very much appreciated.
My family has always been amazingly supportive and I could not do this without them. Thanks also to my friends online who keep me encouraged and cheer me on. You are the best.
Finally, thanks to my readers. You make everything worthwhile.
A
LEXANDER CROUCHED ON THE RIDGELINE
. H
IS
head swiveled as he sniffed the crisp, still air. Uncanny and Divine magic washed across his tongue: bitter and sweet, caustic and cloying. His eyes narrowed as he tried to sort the scents of what belonged from what did not.
It was impossible. There was simply too much magic in the air. But at least one thing was clearly out of place. On a small flattish spot on the slope below him was a fairy circle made of deep-pocketed morel mushrooms. It was about seven feet in diameter, and the edges of the ring were thick and deep. There had to be at least a few hundred mushrooms. But that was not what caught Alexander’s attention.
Inside the circle was a pile of skinned bodies. Alexander could see two wolves, five rabbits, three raccoons, a pair of ducks, three deer, and a small bear.
He reached for a rock. He found one the size of a hubcap and weighing a good fifty pounds. He tossed it one-handed. It thumped down heavily inside the circle. The ground heaved and funneled downward. The bodies and the rock plunged into the sudden maw. A second later, the grass rippled back into place. Alexander pursed his lips in a silent whistle. Something down there was hungry.
He frowned. A flicker of motion caught his attention, and he tilted a glance upward. An angel glided across the night sky, silent and deadly. Alexander’s teeth bared as he watched Tutresiel circle. Suddenly, the angel’s silver wings folded with a metallic hiss, and he dropped to the ground only a few feet from the fairy ring.
He landed in a crouch before straightening with tiger-like grace. He stared at Alexander with scarlet eyes. His face was pale marble, his body hard with muscle. His black hair hung to his shoulders in sharp contrast with his white skin. He wore black jeans, heavy biker boots, and a scarred leather vest laced loosely around the roots of his wings.
Alexander’s nostrils flared, and his body went taut. He rose to his feet but held himself tightly leashed, despite the nearly uncontrollable urge to pummel Tutresiel’s face into a pulp. Not that he could. But something about the angel triggered a primitive reaction in Alexander that had nothing to do with logic and reason and everything to do with animal instinct.
“What do you want?”
“Niko sent me to find you.”
Alexander’s lips flattened. “What for?” But he knew what for. Niko wanted him to become the Prime of Horngate’s Shadowblades. He’d been after him about it since Scooter had taken Max. It was the last thing Max herself had asked for before she had been taken.
Fury, frustration, and unspeakable pain churned molten in his gut. It had been weeks, and there’d been no word, no sign. The beast inside him howled with loss, and he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees as he fought to breathe.
She will return,
he told himself.
If she does not, I will go find her
.
He straightened, meeting Tutresiel’s gaze, expecting mockery. But the angel only offered a short nod of understanding. Except he could not possibly understand. He was cold-blooded as hell and cared nothing for anyone. As his next words proved.
“When are you going to pull up your big girl panties and get over it?” he asked, folding his arms and cocking his head to the side. “If Max could see you now, she’d be puking up her guts with disgust. She needs a man, not a weakling child.”
Alexander’s anger hardened. His Prime bristled, and he went iron-cold as the beast took over. “What would you know about Max?” he asked softly as reason fled. He was going to kill the angel. Somehow. “You tried to destroy Horngate. The only reason you joined the covenstead was to get out of the Guardians’ shackles. You are a coward.”
A smile flickered over Tutresiel’s lips and was gone. “Am I? Some would call me smart. Or lucky, even. You, on the other hand, they’d call stupid and suicidal, if you decide to attack me like you want to.” His wings flared, each feather a shining blade, sharp and deadly. “I would flay you into hamburger before you put a hand on me. But maybe that’s what you want. Better to lie down and die than act like a man, like the warrior you’re supposed to be.” His lip curled in a sneer.
Alexander did not move. Tutresiel’s taunts were meant to drive him into a frenzy so that he would attack stupidly. He was not going to succumb to the tactic. “And what would you have me do, oh great and wise angel?” he asked derisively.
“Do the job that Max wanted. Keep the covenstead safe until she comes back,” was Tutresiel’s cutting reply.
“I am keeping it safe. I do not have to take on Prime to do so,” Alexander said.
Max was Horngate’s Shadowblade Prime, or leader. Shadowblades were nighttime warriors created by witches. They had super strength, super healing, and many other varied abilities, according to the whims of the witch who created them. If they went into the sunlight, they’d burn up. Their daytime counterparts, the Sunspears, were poisoned by the night. Max was a good Prime. Better than good. The best Alexander had ever seen. But weeks ago, she’d been taken.
No,
taken
sounded like she had been kidnapped or like she had fought. The truth was, she had been
bartered
and had gone willingly, Alexander thought bitterly. Giselle, Horngate’s territory witch, had bargained with the powerful creature Max irreverently called Scooter. An otherwise nameless being, he claimed to be the child of Onniont, the horned serpent, and Nihansan, Spider Woman, both of whom were legendary creatures, possibly gods. He had more magic in his elbow than most covens could command.
Giselle had traded Max to Scooter in exchange for a powerful warding spell to protect the coven. No one knew what Scooter wanted with Max, but once he had fulfilled his side of the bargain, he had come demanding his prize.
Now Horngate, already crippled by the attacks that had resulted in Tutresiel and the fire angel Xaphan’s becoming part of the covenstead, and teeming with refugees from the Guardians’ cataclysmic unleashing of wild magic on the world, was without a Shadowblade Prime. They wanted Alexander for the job. But if he took it, it would guarantee that Max would never come back. Not that he was going to tell Tutresiel about the prophecy Magpie had given him. It was none of the angel’s damned business.
“The Shadowblades are sheep without a shepherd. They need you to step up,” Tutresiel told him. He brushed invisible lint from the side seam of his leather pants. “Not that I care, of course. But they are so pathetic, it’s getting hard to watch.”
“No. Max is Prime. She is coming back. I will not steal her place.” The words were hard as bullets.
Tutresiel laughed without humor. “Is that it? You think if you take Prime she won’t come back?” He snorted. “As if anything you do or say could stop her. Count on it. The question is, what will be left when she gets here? You’re not helping, going off to lick your balls while the rest of the covenstead struggles to pull itself together in time for winter. It’s going to be ugly. There’s not enough food, and we both know trouble is coming. Local humans are going to get hungry, and so are the Uncanny and the Divine. Horngate is going to look awfully tasty to a lot of creatures. We’ll be fighting them off, if we can even harvest enough food to feed ourselves.”
At his words, Alexander darted a glance at the fairy ring. Was it his imagination, or was the interior rising and falling as if something beneath was breathing?
The angel didn’t notice. “Then again, maybe we’ll feed you to them first. An appetizer. Getting rid of you and your bottomless Shadowblade hunger will leave more for everyone else.”
“Someone really needs to kill you,” Alexander said, feeling his anger drain as the truth of Tutresiel’s words pulled him from the cauldron of his fury and pain.
“You’ve tried. More than once. Didn’t do a very good job. Of course, I’m immortal.”
Alexander snorted. “So am I. Until someone kills me. The only question is how to go about making you dead.”
The angel smiled. “Good luck with that. There are only two in the world who know how to kill me permanently, and I’m one. I’ll never tell.”
“I guess I will just have to keep trying. I am bound to stumble on it one day. Just for giggles, want to step sideways into that circle and see what happens?”
The angel glanced down. “What is it?”
“Hungry, from what I can tell. Bet it would not object to an angel snack.”
Tutresiel reached out into the air, and suddenly a sword was in his hand. Its seven-foot blade glowed with brilliant white witch-light. He paced around the outside edge of the ring. “I told you trouble was coming,” he murmured.
“What is it?”
“A mouth.”
“Thank you, Mister Obvious. I figured that out already.”
Tutresiel continued, ignoring Alexander’s comment. “The ring is to imprison it. The question is whether the fairies lured the mouth in to use it or if they’re just pinning it down to protect themselves.”
“I do not think they plan to kill it. It just sucked down more than a dozen animal carcasses. All skinned.”
“Interesting,” was Tutresiel’s noncommittal reply.
“We cannot just leave it. How do you kill it?”
The angel gave an infuriating shrug. “Depends on what’s inside.”
“I thought you knew.”
“Could be a lot of things. Fairies, demons, monsters. Possibly even Muppets.”
Alexander scowled. Tutresiel was baiting him. He snarled, hating to ask, but having no choice. “What do you recommend?”
“Easiest way to figure out what’s inside is to jump in.”
“Sounds stupid.”
“That too.”
Alexander’s Prime lunged to the fore. His human senses flattened, and the heightened instincts of the beast within took over. He rose and drew a combat knife from the sheath on his hip. “I guess Niko will have to wait,” he said, and leaped down off his perch. He strode purposefully toward the circle of mushrooms, but Tutresiel’s sword came down and barred the way. He glared at the angel. “Get out of my way.”
“I wondered, but I didn’t know for sure until now. You
are
as stupid as you look,” Tutresiel said. “You’ll die if you jump into that throat.”
“I am not that easy to kill,” Alexander said, shoving down on the sword with his knife. A jolt of electricity shot through him, and every hair on his body stood on end. His blood sizzled with the energy.
“Maybe. But as much as I don’t care what happens to you, Max will, and she’s just crazy enough to hunt down the one way to kill me if I let you die. So call this self-preservation.” He paused for a moment and then frowned. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but given the fact that most of you idiots at Horngate have a ridiculously overblown sense of responsibility . . . Stay put. I can handle this.”