Shadow City (24 page)

T
HE ARMOR WAS EVERYTHING THAT
M
AX COULD
have hoped for. The teeth of the Calopus couldn’t cut through it, and Tarzan’s blades bounced off. That didn’t mean she didn’t get hurt. The mouths of the spiked wolves were powerful enough to break bone, as were Tarzan’s heavy blows, and the armor could only do so much.

She slashed at the Calopus, chopping at their legs and necks, but they seemed to heal as fast as she did. They snapped and growled, leaping onto her and trying to drag her down. If any one of them grabbed her throat, they’d crush it for sure. Meanwhile, Tarzan circled behind them, leaping in to strike whenever she wasn’t paying attention. Which was a whole lot more often than she would have liked. He had picked up on the fact that her armor didn’t keep her from blunt-force damage and had resorted to smashing at her with his swords like they were clubs.

He was nearly as fast as she was, and he had definitely learned from their first fight. He was being patient, letting the wolves wear her down. There was no time to rest. They kept coming and coming with relentless violence.

Killing them seemed impossible. She couldn’t seem to find their hearts, and no matter how hard she chopped at their necks, she couldn’t seem to cut through.

Tarzan taunted her. “They were bred for survival. You won’t kill them easily.”

No shit
. Like she hadn’t noticed. She glanced at the balcony above. She needed height if she was going to keep the beasts from dragging her down and killing her. A couple of seconds to heal up wouldn’t hurt, either. But a Calopus was fastened onto her ankle, another on her left bicep. The other three darted in. Max kicked out and punched the one on her arm at the same time. It dropped away.

She shoved the three into one another, ignoring the pain and weakness of her broken bones. She slammed a sword across the head of the one on her leg, and it let go with a screech. She whirled her swords at the others and leaped up to the balcony. Her leg failed. She didn’t have the height.

Max let go of one of her blades and clung to the railing, her legs swinging just above the snapping jaws of the Calopus. She pulled herself up, clambering over the balustrade and sprawling onto the marble floor of the balcony. Tarzan yelled commands, and she heard the scrape of toenails as the Calopus rushed to obey.

She pushed herself up and looked down into the courtyard. Tarzan had vanished, as had the wolves. She could hear them baying. It sounded hollow, as if they were in a stairwell. Ilanion was nowhere to be seen.
Good
. He’d gotten away.

She drew a breath. Her ribs hurt, but she could feel her splintered bones knitting back together and her bruised muscles strengthening again.

The balcony opened into a lavishly decorated room. Max pushed the glass doors open and limped inside. It was a room for entertaining, with a grand table, glittering chandeliers, plush couches and chairs, and an open space for dancing or whatever other entertainments people enjoyed in Chadaré.

The baying of the Calopus was louder. There wasn’t much here to use to her advantage. Still—

Max went to the massive dining table and shoved it up against the wall, putting broad gouges in the shining parquet floor. Oops. She leaped on top just as Tarzan thrust open the double doors at the far end of the room. His pets galloped past him, falling silent as they fixed on their prey.

The first one leaped. Max met it with a kick and flipped it onto its back on the table. She chopped down at its throat and through until her blade met its unyielding spine. But it was enough. The animal didn’t move. She shoved it away. The next few minutes were a blur of pain. She skidded on blood and dropped heavily to her hands and knees.

Max rolled off the table and vaulted over a couch, spinning in time to knock a beast from the air. She rolled it onto its side and chopped at its ribs. They cracked loudly, and the beast yelped in pain. The sound cut off as she severed its throat and neck to the spine.

One by one, she brought them down, dodging and running and singling them out. Tarzan yelled commands all the while. The beasts were in a bloodlust and ignored him. Max didn’t give them a chance to calm down. She kept at them, letting her Prime take control of the fight. Tarzan tried to wade into the fray, but he couldn’t keep up with her running attack.

Finally, she was down to just one Calopus. She was stunned when Tarzan stepped between her and the slavering beast.

“Enough. It’s between you and me,” he said, and she could see sorrow mixed with hate in his eyes. He called out something to the beast, which hesitated but didn’t move. He said something else, and it slunk away, lying down near the massive fireplace at the end of the room.

Max wiped a trickle of blood from her eyes with the back of her hand. “We don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. “I just came to get what was stolen from a friend. All you have to do is step aside.”

“I can’t.”

This was a conversation they’d had before. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Both. I’m bound to obey my orders, and even if I wasn’t, you and I must finish this.”

“That’s too bad,” Max said, and moved to the open dance-floor area. She shoved aside a Calopus carcass. “I was beginning to like you.”

He followed. He rolled his head on his shoulders to loosen his muscles. Like Max, blood smeared his clothing and covered his hands. He had a good share of bruises and cuts but was in pretty good shape compared with her. She wasn’t worried. Now that the Calopus were out of the picture, he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. He had supernatural strength and speed but nothing like hers.

They launched at each other at the same moment, as if in unspoken agreement. Their swords clashed together. Back and forth they danced, tapping, feinting, testing, evaluating. He wanted to know how good she was, which was pretty damned good. Max had trained with every weapon under the sun. She kept in good practice with swords, because they were always a good bet against most Uncanny and Divine creatures. The iron content alone meant that they did a lot of damage. Add in the sharp edge, and they were the weapon of choice for close combat.

She ducked under a broad swing and spun from the jab of the other sword. Not a good time to let her mind wander.

Tarzan continued to harass her, but he stayed out of reach. She lunged, and he danced out of the way. It was like he wanted to prolong the fight.

Maybe he did. Maybe he was hoping for backup to arrive.

The moment the thought struck her, Max was certain it was true. She switched into overdrive, smashing at him over and over, driving him into a corner. It wasn’t long before he figured out her tactic and tried to escape. She gave him no room. His face was set in an expression of grim determination. He knew he was out of options. Between her skill and her armor, she was unbeatable.

But he wasn’t without tricks of his own. Max drove forward, only to have him toss a handful of something at her. She was in the middle of taking a breath and sucked it into her lungs. It burned like acid. Her eyes burned and swelled almost instantly, and she couldn’t see or breathe.

Instinct swallowed her. She dove, curling into a ball and knocking Tarzan’s feet out from under him. He sprawled over her. She grabbed one arm and pulled herself on top of him, not letting him have the leverage to swing his swords. He squirmed and bucked, driving a knee into her thigh. He knocked her sideways and got an arm free. He hammered at her head. Despite her armor, the blows felt like mule kicks to her skull. She grabbed his neck and got hold of his chin. She gave a sharp twist. His spine cracked, and his body went limp, his final breath bleeding out of him in a quiet exhalation.

She rolled off him and staggered to her feet. She bumped into the wall and leaned against it weakly. Her lungs felt like rotten watermelons. She tried to breathe but couldn’t manage to get any air. She coughed. Chunks of clotted flesh came up. She spat them out. She desperately wanted to breathe, but even though she drew more air in, she couldn’t feel it. She coughed again.

Her eyes were running, tears flowing down her cheeks in a flood. She touched her eyes gently. The skin was raw and ulcerated. Her lungs were probably the same.

Her head spun, and her knees gave out. She was strong, but even she couldn’t do without air.
Hurry the fuck up and heal before you die!
she screamed at herself. She pushed at her healing spells, but they were working overtime, and she’d expended a lot of energy getting through the crystal garden and fighting the Calopus.
Damn damn damn
. She didn’t want to die this way. She didn’t want to die at all.

She forced herself to stay calm and tried to draw a shallow breath. Across the room, she heard the scrabble of nails and the padding of feet. The last Calopus. Holy mother of fuck. She was screwed.

She dug for one of her daggers. The one in her waistband was long gone, but another in her cargo pocket was still there. She drew it. Her hand shook.

The beast stopped a few feet away. It sniffed, then whined. Max heard the scrape of a claw across clothing as it pawed at Tarzan. A moment later, its nails clicked again, drawing closer. Max tightened her hand on the dagger, but her fingers felt rubbery. She tried to firm her grip, but the knife slid to the floor with a clatter. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt as if it were going to rip out of her chest.

A whuffling puff of wind cooled her cheek. Max put up her hand to shove the Calopus away, but it was more of a pet than not. Her hand fell to her side. She panted, trying to get air. Blackness closed around her mind, and her muscles seized, and her body went limp. Her head dipped forward, and she passed out.

M
AX WOKE SLOWLY
. S
HE BLINKED
. H
ER EYES STILL FELT
swollen, but she could see at least blurry shapes. She took a careful breath. Her chest hurt and sounded wet, but she wasn’t dead.

She pushed herself upright. Tarzan’s body lay a few feet away. The last Calopus stood beside her, its milky eyes fixed on her. Its fur was matted with blood, but whatever wounds it had were closed now. Max fought the urge to pat its head and call it a good doggie. It would probably bite her hand off.

She fumbled for the dagger she’d dropped and eased herself up the wall until she was standing. The Calopus just watched her. It looked like it was expecting something.

“Sorry. I’m fresh out of biscuits, Lassie,” Max said. Her voice scraped low and raspy.

The Calopus wagged once and went still again, its tongue sliding along its lips.

Since it didn’t look like the beast was about to jump her, Max bent and picked up her sword and one of Tarzan’s. She wiped them both off on the back of a couch and sheathed hers. His was lighter and slightly curved. It wasn’t going to fit into either of her scabbards.

She started for the door, keeping one eye on the horned wolf. She had no idea how long she’d been out and was just glad she hadn’t been found and the Calopus hadn’t eaten her while she was napping. She went to the double doors where Tarzan had entered and looked out into the hallway. Her luck was holding; it was deserted.

She eased out and started to shut the door behind her but found it blocked by the Calopus, which had followed her.

“What are you doing?” she whispered. “Stay.”

The beast looked up at her and wriggled its way out into the corridor. Max sighed.
Crap
. She didn’t need this. But the animal wasn’t going to be left behind. And killing it would take more out of her than she had to give at the moment.

“Fine. Keep it quiet, and if you so much as think about biting me, I will kick you all the way to the moon. Got it?”

The beast gave a little whine as if it did understand. Max scowled at it. The beasts had understood Tarzan’s commands, but he’d spoken in a strange language. Maybe it was telepathic on some level. Or maybe it was a coincidence. Whatever. It didn’t matter. She had to find whatever of Scooter’s that was hidden there. If it was. But Ilanion had seemed to think it likely.

There were a lot more servants than Max expected to find. And a lot of guards. She overheard some talking and found out that Tarzan had ordered them to keep away from the fight. She thought back to the way he’d given her the chance to get ready in both of their battles. He had a sense of fair play and a code of honor.

Maybe he figured that if she defeated him, she deserved a chance to get what she’d come for. He might have meant to give her a head start. Or maybe he hated being bound as much as she did, and this was his way of getting revenge. He couldn’t just let her go without a hard battle, but he could set it up so she could explore for a while without alarms. If he had even the slightest idea what she’d come looking for, he would know that stealing it could topple his mistress’s power.

She made her way through the mansion as fast as she could. She knew what she was looking for. A stronghold somewhere inside that could be guarded from both friends and enemies. It would have to be someplace where this Asherah would be able to perform magic and keep secrets. It would be a place where she would feel safe enough to sleep and relax.

Max quickly left the public rooms behind, along with the guest and servant quarters. Asherah would want privacy. A lot of it.

She avoided being seen relatively easily. There were a lot of places to hide, and no one seemed to notice the Calopus. It was like the beast was camouflaged, even though Max could see it without any trouble. She wondered why.

Once, she startled a pair of guards and quickly and quietly slit their throats and dumped them in a closet. Time was running out. She couldn’t count on them not being missed. She hurried.

As Max pressed deeper into the mansion, there started to be more locked doors and fewer guards and servants. Good thing she was a walking key. At first, the locks were ordinary key locks. Then they became simple wards, then complex wards. She had to be getting close.

The palace rooms were also becoming more sumptuous, if that was even possible. Everything was perfumed with a heavy, syrupy scent that coated Max’s tongue and made her want to spit. It made it impossible to smell anything else. The floors were covered in thick woven rugs, delicate silks, and other fabrics that Max didn’t recognize. Everything was gilded. It was like being inside Donald Trump’s bathroom. The walls, the furniture, the ceilings—everything was gold. Jewels crusted much of it. It was all lit by candlelight, and the air danced with fairy sparkles.