Dark Illusion

by Feehan, Christine

  Provide us with your strength and ability to accomplish our task.

  As is above, is below, so mote it be.

  She continued, her blood dripping steadily over the book, mingling with Isai’s. It’s now or never, Isai. I love you. No matter what, know that you were loved. Before he could answer, she began her spell.

  That which is aged. Old.

  Bearing the burden of power untold.

  Bound by years of destruction.

  I now undo you. May your bindings rot.

  May your pages crumble.

  May you become dust in the wind.

  Forever gone.

  Holes began to appear in the cover of the book. At first the cover was dotted with tiny pinpricks, but little by little they began to enlarge. It seemed the process was too slow. The army had nearly reached them. The book shrieked, adding hideous voices of protest to those rushing to stop them from their task.

  “When is it safe to go?” he demanded.

  “The book has to dissolve.”

  “Can you touch it now?” She’d managed to put up with her own birthmark attacking her; he figured she was strong enough to endure the pull of the book.

  She swallowed hard but nodded, holding out her hands for it. The tome was heavy. He coated both of her trembling hands in hyssop oil and then carefully placed Xavier’s spell book into her open palms. As he turned toward the approaching enemy, he saw the holes in the book grow into gaping wounds. Blood poured from the pages. Insects rushed up Julija’s arms.

  “Sun scorch that book from hell,” he snapped and tried to take it from her.

  “Just go,” she hissed. “Hurry. Keep them off of me until this book has disappeared.”

  She had no idea tears were running down her face. She looked exhausted. Her arm was chewed up and bloody. Her wrist still dripped blood. She tried to keep her wrist over the book, holding the spine of the book with one hand, but she looked as if she could collapse at any moment.

  It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but he turned back to face their enemy. Just know, Julija, that you are very loved. You are everything to me. My heart. My soul. And I am prouder of you than I can say. He poured the truth into her mind, sending her as much strength as he could spare.

  She sent him a watery smile and immediately switched her attention back to Xavier’s spell book. As he was turning to go, he caught a glimpse of the hand beneath the book, only because the wind had blown the snow onto the ground, covering it completely. Great drops of bright crimson blood fell in globs onto the snow. Her hand was welded to the spine of the book with several sharp hooks that had pierced right through her skin.

  “Just keep them off me,” she hissed, concentrating on spreading the blood over the cover of the book. She began to whisper softly, as if talking to her birthmark.

  I call to snake, you who are of my blood.

  Through you I am reborn, transformed.

  Heal me. Renew me.

  I call to scorpion, whose wisdom runs through my mind, my body.

  Rid me of all poisons, protect me from unseen attack.

  Guide me as I fight.

  Three now become one together. We are whole.

  The gaps in the book widened. With every minute growth, more mutant bugs and vile wormlike creatures that snapped sharpened teeth at her as they crawled up her arm emerged. Isai couldn’t take it. He turned back to help her. As he did, the scorpion switched allegiances, ceasing to fight Julija’s will and suddenly joining with her. The arachnid attacked the worm creatures, stinging them repeatedly. The snake joined in, devouring the insects as they raced up her arm.

  “Go,” Julija insisted. “They can’t reach the book before it is fully destroyed.” She couldn’t let it go. It had wrapped roots into her hand and wrist, trying to feed off her blood, fighting to stay alive. The fate of his mage and the book were tied together.

  Fetid smoke rose in the air as the book tried to fight back. He gave it one last shot of his blood, snared the nape of her neck and kissed her, and then loped off, whistling softly.

  Blue. Give me a report. He shared the request with all the cats.

  Hellhounds are held in check. Anatolie has sent the shadow warriors to you. We have surrounded them, but there is no way to kill them. There are others mixed in, mage followers he has sent to bring Julija back to him.

  The images the cat sent back at first were difficult to decipher. He was getting better at it the more the cats communicated with him.

  We are picking the mage followers off one by one.

  That explained the occasional bloodcurdling shriek he’d heard. He knew the moment his warriors engaged with the shadow warriors. The night erupted with the sound of metal clashing as swords struck swords or shields.

  Do not take any chances. Any of you. Whatever you do, do not get close to the hellhounds or the mages.

  All six cats gave a little sniff of disdain, as if his order was ridiculous. Who knew shadow cats could be rebellious? He couldn’t think about anything right now but slowing down the approach to Julija.

  He moved into the swirling snow, coming up on the first of the combatants. Anatolie had forced the shadow warriors to rise. They were decent men who had been ripped from their resting places and forced to serve the high mage. He had come across them at various times. Fighting them did no good. Nothing stopped them from their appointed task. They could be duped, but not killed.

  He had escaped such as these on occasion by tricking them, but their ultimate goal was the recovery of Xavier’s book and he couldn’t allow them to get the unholy tome. He had been sharing Julija’s blood often. If he merged his mind with hers and spoke from that place, was it possible to mislead them again?

  As they came close to him, still fighting his mythical warriors, he held up his hand. “Be at peace, shadow warriors.”

  The moment he spoke, the moment he moved, all eyes found him. Red. Glowing. They looked like snow monsters, yet various shades of gray shadows swirled around them, giving their position away in the world of white as nothing else could. They were silent, but they moved quickly and purposefully, always driving forward toward Julija and the book no matter how many times Isai’s warriors sliced through them, trying to slow them down in vain.

  Now he had their attention. He knew better than to physically fight them. He had to gain control of them. They came toward him, fighting through his warriors. They were struck down over and over, but always, they reformed and continued forward.

  He held up his hand to check them. “Brothers. I am both mage and Carpathian. My blood calls to you.” He hoped that Julija and he had exchanged enough blood that they would feel the pull of mage blood. He knew their creator, Anatolie, had used a blood sacrifice to enslave them. Julija had her father’s blood in her veins. Isai had hers.

  Most stopped moving, as if confused. A few shuffled forward a few steps and then halted. He sent a silent command to his shadow warriors to cease and they, too, went still.

  Hear me now, great shadow warriors,

  Torn from your resting place without your permission.

  I call on earth, fire, water, wind and spirit and bind them to me.

  I invoke the law of the shadow.

  I invoke the law of all true warriors.

  I ask for release for these men who fought with honor.

  Spirit, wrest them from the dark mage’s bindings.

  As he spoke the snow rose around the warriors in columns of white mixed with gray and black and now purple.

  Water, cleanse them from the dark blood of sacrifice.

  Blue joined the colors swirling around each of the shadow warriors. They stood very still, holding their weapons in front of them as if they might need them at any moment.

  Fire, burn the dark mage’s unholy spell back into his soul and release these honorable shadow warriors wholly from his claim that he may never call them again.

  A high-pitched shriek echoed across the battlefield and in the distance, across the
meadow near a high bluff, a column of dark red burst into the sky. The warriors were ringed now in colors, and orange-red flames joined the various shades spinning through the shadows.

  Wind, carry these men home to their resting place.

  Earth, open your arms that you may accept and protect them.

  Deliberately, Isai stepped toward the shadow warriors to salute them respectfully.

  He felt for them, these men who had lived with honor, fought bravely and yet weren’t allowed their rest.

  Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes.

  Warriors return, breathe your last.

  Air, earth, fire, water, hear my voice, obey my order.

  Thrice around your grave do bound, evil sink into the ground.

  As he spoke the words to return and protect the shadow warriors, a thunderous clap rent the air. In the distance, across the meadow, rocks slid from the bluff as the earth shook. The bluff collapsed into a pile of boulders, rocks and pebbles as Anatolie sank into the ground.

  I now invoke the law of the three, this is my will, so mote it be.

  Isai knew Anatolie would try to retaliate, either that, or he would realize the book was already lost to them and he’d slink off. Either way, Isai knew he had to get the shadow warriors free before the dark mage did something to wrest them away from him.

  The shadow warriors, almost as one, saluted him and then the wind came through, howling like a banshee, tearing at their indistinct bodies, ripping through the faint streaks of black and gray, tearing them apart and carrying them off into the night to return them to their resting places.

  “May you find eternal peace,” he murmured softly and for a moment let himself feel the fatigue that came with combating a mage spell as dark as the one Anatolie had used to seize the warriors from their graves. His woman had been doing just that for what seemed like hours.

  He sent his shadow warriors forward to meet the next line of evil coming at them. He suspected it would be Barnabas’s hellhounds. He had no idea what they might do, and he wanted Julija out of there. He hurried back to her.

  The book had wrapped long, disturbing-looking roots of black and ash wood-like vines around her arm and through her hand. The book was pierced with holes through and through, but still it fought back, desperate to survive. It had changed tactics, bringing forth those who had been sacrificed for each of those dark spells preserved inside the pages of the book. Julija was forced to relive each life taken.

  Bloodred tears ran down her face and dripped onto the book. With each tear, more small holes burned through the papyrus pages. For once, the safeguards Xavier had so cleverly woven into the spell book had backfired on him. For all that, no lifemate could bear to see his woman suffering. Even as he hurried toward her, the book changed strategies again. Dark vines grew from the papyrus, coming directly from the piercing of her hand, moving down her belly in a twisting snakelike movement in a very threatening manner.

  A look of horror crossed Julija’s face. “The baby, Isai. It’s after the baby. It knows it is our combined blood, all three of us, that is destroying it.”

  Isai hacked at the growth nearest her stomach with a knife. Even as he did so, a bright light burst from beneath her clothing and the dragon was there. The scales were a shiny black obsidian. Although small in stature, it didn’t need to be anything else. The fire was just as effective as if it had been a full-sized dragon.

  The little fierce dragon sprayed fire all up and down the roots, so that they withered and turned completely to particles of black ash, dropping to the snow, covering the blood Julija’s hand had shed.

  Without hesitation, Isai tore open his wrist again and added the power of his blood to Julija’s. At once he could see the difference, the tears in the book gaping wide so that there were only the outer edges and a few troubling places where the safeguards stubbornly held.

  A dread, so dark, so malicious and all encompassing, overtook both of them. They looked at each other. It felt for a moment as if time had stopped. The wind rushed toward them, carrying a sulfuric stench, much like rotting eggs.

  Julija pulled her gaze from Isai’s. “Brimstone,” she whispered. “Hell-hounds, Isai. His hellhounds.”

  “You get rid of that book, woman. You are very close. You can do it,” Isai instructed.

  “You can’t take on all of them. He’ll have impossible numbers coming at you.”

  Isai called to the cats. To me now. All of you. “Just as you have to destroy that book, I have to destroy his hellhounds.”

  The cats came out of the night, great slinking shadows, huge panthers. He held out his arms and one by one, they leapt onto him, merging with his skin. He noted that they were getting better at it, not using their claws as much. If they all survived this night, they would soon be able to fuse with Julija as well.

  Once more he leaned over to brush her mouth with his. “Get it done, little mage. You were born to stop them.” He’d infused confidence in his voice and left her, striding into the snowstorm to stand between his woman and the monstrous animals coming for them. He covered himself in hyssop oil as well as every arrow for his crossbows. He needed mobility. There was only one way to kill them. He had to shoot an arrow in each eye and then sever the head. Unfortunately, they often had more than one head. They were fast and vicious, and once set on their purpose, they didn’t ever stop.

  Hellhounds were not unknown to him. Isai had fought them more than once in the past. They were faster than anyone could possibly imagine, and even calling up the memories didn’t always prepare him for that first encounter again. A throat shot could slow them down if it was needed. He didn’t want one to slip past him while he was dealing with others coming straight at him.

  He waited, breathing easily, listening for the first of the pack to arrive. Strangely, other than the powerful stench, the lead hellhound broke silently out of the snow, coming straight at him. He was massive, much like a giant buffalo, running at full speed, eyes glowing like two fiery coals. His massive claws left few tracks in the snow. His fangs dripped with venom. Behind him came the rest, all rushing toward him like one enormous freight train.

  Isai moved then, using his preternatural speed and the experience he’d earned over centuries of battle. He fired arrow after arrow, hitting the eyes of the creatures as they came close, some a breath away. As he fired, he ran toward them, slicing down with his sword as often as possible. There were so many, and they kept coming. He knew they were being used to distract him. Julija was going to be in trouble very soon if he couldn’t halt the hellhounds.

  The animals were trying to circle around him, to cut Julija off from him. He tried backtracking and they became fiercer, a galloping horde of ferocious beasts, canines like those of a saber-tooth tiger, razor-sharp, their attention completely centered on him. The closest one to him received two arrows straight into his burning eyes. It skidded to a halt and tumbled, headfirst, rolling. Two behind it couldn’t slow down and tried to run over the top of the downed hellhound.

  He’s coming.

  She never used Barnabas’s name if she could help it. He knew it was Barnabas, not Anatolie using the hellhounds to keep Isai apart from her.

  How close are you? He fired four arrows with blurring speed.

  It’s dissolving now at a rapid rate.

  He could hear the pain in her voice. What is wrong? He fired off four more arrows and followed up with the sword. One hellhound grazed him. The fur was venomous, but he was covered in hyssop oil and the creature screamed as the substance burned through it.

  The dragon, scorpion and snake are attempting to free me from the last of its tethers. I am unsure if it is possible.

  Isai swore and sliced through the head of the beast turning on him. So close. Everywhere he looked they were too close. He needed to dissolve. To take to the air, but where would that leave her? He was all that kept Barnabas from having a free path straight to her. He needed his brethren. He needed a miracle.

  You are high mage, Julija, every
bit as powerful as he is. He is dead. In another realm. Take that vile book off you as if it is no more than garbage. He was asking a lot of her, but he knew she was capable.

  Isai shot three more beasts with arrows, but he couldn’t get to them to chop off their heads. Another came at him from his right, a huge monster of a hellhound, and he quickly ran backward, leapt up and over its back, shooting arrows into its eyes.

  One particularly large hellhound shook its head, the arrow dropping from it. It pawed the ground, looking at Isai with hatred and purpose. Its eye ran with blood, and it was fixed on him. Around him dozens more charged.

  20

  The pain in Julija’s hand and arm was excruciating, but the little dragon was valiant and refused to give up, breathing fire steadily at the roots protruding from her palm. She felt a second stem drop away. The snow hissed a complaint and melted right through to bare dirt. She was growing weak and the book sensed it, holding on, wrapping the last root around her wrist and trying to stab through her skin to get to her artery.

  The snake and scorpion moved together as one unit, rushing down her arm so the snake could slip between the wood and her wrist and the scorpion could use its claws to pry it off her. The pages of the book were gone, but the binding stubbornly held on, desperate to carry out its maker’s wishes. She dripped her blood up and down the spine in the same pattern as she had over the pages.

  She heard the fierce battle Isai waged against the hellhounds, trying to give her the time she needed to destroy the book once and for all. There was a sudden hush over the battlefield, as if the very world around her in the midst of the thick storm held its breath. Nature, even the wild snowstorm, seemed to pause.

  Her heart accelerated. Pounded. Threatened to burst through her chest. There was no time to waste. He was coming. She knew it was Barnabas. She felt his power as she’d never felt it before. She’d had glimpses of it, but she’d been too cowed by him, too humiliated, to recognize anything but his cruelty.