Wolf's-own: Weregild (47 page)

Fen was never more sane than when he was focused, and he was never more focused than when he had a knife in his hand. He
needed
this. Watching his sister die, haunted by ghosts that weren't there—the Almighty Cock had perhaps calmed Fen, but it hadn't steadied him. Fen was the only one who could do that. Left to himself, Fen's mind turned inward, poisoned itself then gnashed itself to pieces. Silence gave him focus, but he sabotaged it by inventing ghosts to fill the void of quietude. Battle gave him no choice
but
to focus.

"Watch this,” Malick murmured to Joori, then he grinned as Fen spun down from the box of the carriage and waded in.

"I've seen it before,” Joori bit back anxiously. “Aren't you going to go and help him?"

"You want I should distract him?” Malick asked easily. He nodded as Fen shoved Morin toward the carriage with one hand and cut down the first guard with the other then spun around to take another in the midsection as he barreled toward him. Malick didn't even have to look to know Joori was on the verge of rushing forward, so he reached down and clamped a hand to Joori's arm, said, “Not yet,” and winked.

Joori's mouth tightened to a thin, snarling line. “You're a sick son of a bitch,” he growled.

"And incredibly sexy,” Malick told him, exhilarated and a little giddy with adrenaline. “You forgot ‘incredibly sexy'."

A derisive snort from Joori this time, an irate mutter, “No, I really didn't,” and another snarl as he tried and failed to tug himself loose from Malick's hold when he saw two more guards detach themselves from the contingent at the gate and move toward his brothers. Morin kept hedging away from the carriage, waving that ridiculous sword around, and Fen kept trying to shove him back and make him stay, but Malick knew all too well the stubbornness inherent to all those named “Fen."

"
Gah
, look at him go,” Malick breathed as Fen leapt back up into the carriage, climbed atop it, then jumped down the other side, nailing one of the advancing men with a hard blow of a knife hilt to his temple. Even knowing it all for the tacit self-destruction it was, Malick couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop appreciating.

Samin sidled up to Malick's left. “You might want to pay attention to the reinforcements coming about from the west side,” he said calmly.

Malick rolled his eyes. There were only ten of them, for pity's sake. “Stop distracting me when I'm being lascivious,” he grumbled.

"Like you ever
stop
!” Joori snapped and tried once again to yank himself from Malick's grip. “Those are my brothers over there, and Morin has no idea what he's doing! If you're not going to—"

"Morin is in less danger than Fen is,” Malick told Joori evenly. “I've got him under my protection, remember? And if you think these men are any danger to Fen, you haven't been paying attention.” This last as Fen took hold of the horse's halter, used it to lever himself into some flippy move Malick had never seen him do before, and then land in a way that Malick had no doubt popped a few of those stitches Fen didn't seem to be feeling at the moment. In the same motion, Fen took the legs out from under one man and slapped at the horse's rump, sending it and the carriage careening into another. It was clever and spectacular to watch, but it left Morin a little too open for Malick's liking, so he kept a close eye.

Still, he couldn't help but shake his head a little and puff a laugh. “Bloody acrobat too. Gotta love him.” There seemed to be no end to Fen Jacin-rei.

"What about all those shadows, Mal?” Samin asked quietly.

Malick's mouth tightened as he scanned the perimeter again. “I guess they're here to keep me out. But they can't touch Fen, and they can't stop Shig from tapping into my magic. After Fen gets past these stooges, I'll take care of the shadows, and you just slide on through. Shig and I will take care of the rest.” He turned to Samin, grinned again. “Just like we planned."

"Did you plan that?” Shig asked behind him. She pointed past Malick's shoulder to the gate, creaking open too slowly to allow the ten men trying to come through it past all at once. They streamed out, only one of them stopping to engage Fen. The rest of them headed right for Morin.

There it was. One way or another, Yakuli was watching what was going on at his gates, and had either figured out Fen's weakness or Xari had told him long before Fen had even gotten here. Samin made to surge forward, but Malick held him back just as firmly as he held Joori. He couldn't veil Morin without Fen freaking out, so Malick turned to Shig.

"That's you, love,” he said and gave to the pull that immediately wound through him.

She hadn't done this before. It had always been Malick taking her power and boosting it, using it like it was his own. Now it was reversed, and there hadn't been much time for him to coach her through the skill. Her aim was good, but there was no finesse, her assault clumsy and heavy-handed: three men went down in a spray of blood and brains; the others fell in varying forms of distress, gushers of blood spurting from every visible orifice.

"Mm,” Malick hummed, a grimace flattening his mouth. “Not pretty, Shig."

"I can't decide between the head and the heart,” she murmured back. “The head's faster, but the heart's easier.” She sniffed, shrugged. “Anyway, it's not supposed to be pretty."

Well. That was true.

"All right, Samin.” Malick let go of Samin's arm, nodding at Fen as he grabbed hold of Morin and dragged him through the now unmanned gate of Yakuli's estate. “Stick with them. No one can find any of you using magic, and by the time you get done with your end, Yakuli will have a lot less of it than he does now.” Samin nodded and made to trot after Fen and Morin, but Malick grabbed his arm again, jerking him about until Samin was facing him. Malick leaned in, right up close, and dropped his voice. “Watch his back, Samin.” He opened his mouth to say more, but there was nothing else there, except, “Please."

Samin merely nodded, resolute, clamped his hand briefly over Malick's, then hustled after Fen and Morin, hop-scotching with surprising grace over the scattered bodies of Yakuli's guards and disappearing through the open gates. Malick turned to Shig.

"All right, love.” He leaned down, planted a firm kiss to her brow, then stroked her cheek. “You know what to do."

Shig gave him a smile that was grim and eager, all at the same time. With a long look at Joori, she turned slowly and headed back out into the trees.

Malick watched her go before he turned back and surveyed the shadows steadily calling substance to themselves, forms solidifying, some faces he knew, some he'd never seen before. An even dozen, three of them maijin, and not a single damned one of them Wolf's-own.

What the hell? Was he the only one here? He would have thought at least Imara would have shown up. She
owed
him, after all. Then again... no. He knew what he was in for if this went wrong. It was probably better this way.

He took a long, deep breath, peered sideways at Joori, and pulled up a smartass grin.

"So, then,” he said, as he drew his sword and nodded for Joori to draw a weapon of his own. “Haven't you just been
dying
to kick some
Temshiel
ass?"

There was no ass kicking. Not that Joori had really expected there to be, at least not from him. They were
Temshiel
, after all, and he was just... nobody, really. Still, Joori had rather been expecting... well, something other than this.

The rain had stopped, at least, the clouds rolling back, as though at Wolf's own command to reveal his face through the heavy banks of bruised gray that swathed the sky. Joori wondered if that was a good or a bad thing, and decided it didn't matter, because no one would probably tell him anyway. The air was rimy and warm, and it seemed like every single night insect in the world had congregated around them and started to sing, grating at his nerves almost as badly as Malick was.

There was a lot of staring, at first. A lot of measuring gazes on the parts of the strangers, and one or two bored yawns on the part of Malick. “This is the part where they try and intimidate me through numbers,” Malick stage-whispered at Joori, and Joori had no idea if he should laugh or growl. The last of his family had just disappeared into, from what Samin had said, something that was closer to a military complex than a lord's estate, crawling with magic, and Malick was out here cracking wise. And Joori was having a hard time not barking a nervous little giggle in response.

Malick was insane, clearly, but Joori hadn't quite realized until now that it was catching.

"Peace, Kamen,” said a woman who was really too beautiful to be real as she stepped forward from the loose picket and drew up in front of Malick.

"Why do people always start conversations with me like that?” Malick wanted to know.

Joori only rolled his eyes. “Can't imagine,” he muttered under his breath.

The woman smiled, though it looked like she was trying not to. “How are you, Kamen?"

"Why, what've you heard?” Malick retorted, that same snarky grin stretching his mouth, but even in the dark Joori could see the sharp watchfulness, the calculation in Malick's gaze.

The woman smirked a little, then absently adjusted the two belts that hung crisscrossed over her hips, the ornate hilts of short swords jutting from their sheaths. Dark as the night and twice as lovely, full lips pulled slightly back from straight teeth that nearly sparked in the darkness. Her eyes were bright, alive, and full of sharp humor Joori couldn't comprehend.

"Lots of things,” she said mildly. “First, that you'd gone off to spirit to sulk for a while."

"Ah, not true.” Malick's stance went from aggressive to flirty. Joori just rolled his eyes. Honestly. “Spirit's no fun,” Malick went on easily. “You know me, Sora—I prefer more...” He paused, winked. “...physical stimulation."

The woman snorted. Joori almost groaned when she ran a hand through her jet-black hair, twining her fingers through the ends. “And then that you'd gone mercenary,” she continued, leaning in closer and twisting her tone just this side of sultry. “Just what
kind
of ‘physical stimulation’ are we talking about, Kamen? Getting it up without a weapon in your hand becoming a problem?"

"Ah, love,” said Malick, “when used properly, it
is
a weapon in my hand."

"Oh, for pity's sake,” Joori muttered. “You can't just
hand
him straight lines like that. Can we just get to the bit where we decide if we're on the same side or not?"

The woman—Sora—turned her cool gaze on him, looked him up and down, then lifted an eyebrow at Malick. “New toy?"

"That would be my brother,” Joori barked. “Who happens to be—in case all of the all-knowing, all-powerful
degenerates
present have forgotten—walking into a nest of minions and their pet Jin slaves, among which happens to be
my mother
, so if you
don't
mind, I'd prefer it if we could either get on with killing each other or get on with helping!"

Sora stared at him for a long moment then turned her gaze blandly to Malick's. “Excitable little earth-bound, isn't he?"

Malick only shrugged. “Mortals."

Joori growled, his hand fisting tightly around the knife in his grip, but before he could snap out a retort, one of the men broke loose from the rest of the picket and came forward, a sardonic smile curling at his full mouth. “Excitable or no, the lad has a point.” He stopped, turned a brilliant smile on Malick, and held out his hand. “It's good to see you, Kamen,” he said as Malick eschewed the hand and instead sheathed his sword and embraced the man with a sincere-looking smile of his own.

"It's been a long time, Tatsu,” he returned.

Bloody hell, were all of these people fucking gorgeous? Did the gods pick them for prettiness? This one's hair was a little longer than Malick's, dark gold shot through with copper and pulled into a loose tail at his nape. His pale skin was gilded by the torchlight, and silvered by Wolf, highlighting the sharp cheekbones and perfect nose. The muted glow of Raven and Dragon pulled sparks of claret and tawny amber from the loose bits of fluff that framed his face.

No wonder every
Temshiel
Joori had met so far seemed sex-obsessed. They could probably get it any damned time they wanted it. Well, that Husao didn't seem quite as perverted, but Joori figured he only had to give it time before the man's inner-reprobate poked its.... Right. That was a metaphor that could go nowhere but the gutter.

Tatsu thumped Malick firmly between the shoulder blades before he drew back, but he held onto Malick's arms and peered at him closely. “Now, Kamen,” he said soberly, “tell me."

"You might prefer I didn't.” Malick's tone was just as solemn. He nodded at two men hovering just at the edge of a circle of torchlight. “And not with those two here.” He peered sideways at Tatsu. “They attacked Wolf's Untouchable on Asai's orders last week. Get rid of them, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

Joori narrowed his eyes at the men, a little startled. He hadn't recognized them—he really only remembered that Leu woman—but he supposed Malick would know. Strange. Joori had been picturing them in his remembrance as ugly and perhaps even malformed, to match their reprehensible actions of that night, but it appeared maijin were just as beautiful as their
Temshiel
counterparts. His teeth tightened, and he couldn't help glaring.

Tatsu merely shook his head. “They are Owl's,” he said gently. “They were not trying to kill your Untouchable. They were trying to put him out of the way. They were trying to help."

"By nearly ripping off his leg?” Malick snapped.

The malice in it shouldn't have surprised Joori, but it did. Malick could go from cavalier seducer to vicious sorcerer in the turn of a breath, and it appeared that nothing could do it so predictably as a threat to Jacin. Joori should have been heartened by it, but Jacin and Morin had gone through those gates at least five minutes ago—anything could happen in five minutes.

"By making it impossible for him to participate in Asai's plots,” Sora put in. Her mouth twisted wry. “Obviously, it didn't quite work out that way."