Kynan said, “He’s already in a jam from a dead witch someone dumped on him. If Kessler goes down, too, he’s not going to be happy.”
“Asks me if I give a shit,” Iskander said.
“You getting anything from Paisley?”
“She’s shut down hard,” Iskander said. “I can barely tell she’s here.”
“Then I guess we wait.”
Ten minutes later, Iskander’s phone buzzed with a text from Gray.
Clear. Where u at?
He texted back instructions to meet at the elevators on Kessler’s floor, and then he and Kynan headed there. Once there, the four of them—Carson, Gray, Kynan, and himself—opened themselves to one another to minimize the need for words.
Kessler’s suite was in the middle of a hall after a left turn. Carson and Gray took the point since they were going to deal with the magehelds guarding the door. Until they were inside the suite, all Iskander and Kynan could do was follow along and not fuck things up for whatever Gray and Carson had to do.
The magehelds were baffled about what to do with the two women who both felt like magekind and therefore were not to be harmed, so they stood there like dolts until it was too late. Like taking candy from a baby. With Gray behind her, Carson strode up and touched each one in the center of the chest. The blowback was cold, but it was over fast. Both magehelds fell to their knees. One of them twitched uncontrollably while the other struggled to breathe.
With their bond to Rasmus severed, their link to the kin was restored. Iskander almost wished it hadn’t been. The damage done to their minds was sickening. There wasn’t much left to save. At a signal from Carson, Gray bent down and touched them both.
Done.
And done.
They weren’t dead. They were both twitching. Gray had just scrambled their brains enough to take them off-line. She straightened, did a quick hack job on the hotel lock, and opened the door.
Iskander pulled his magic and so did the others. The goal was to get Paisley back alive and safe. “Let me deal with Rasmus,” Iskander told the others. “Kynan, back me up. Gray, once you and Carson have dealt with the rest of the magehelds, stay close to me in case I need you to terminate Kessler.”
“Will do.”
If he could help it, nobody but him was going to take the heat for killing Rasmus, but he wasn’t going to risk Paisley’s life if he thought Gray would do it better or faster. The suite opened onto a wide living room with a wet bar at one end and a door to the bedroom at the other. A mageheld shot to his feet when the door opened. Carson strode in like she had every right to be there. Gray was right behind her.
After that, things happened quickly. Carson severed the first mageheld, and Gray took him out. There were two more at either side of a closed door and another two moving toward Carson from a blind corner of the room. The two magehelds were just plain wrong. Iskander, Gray, and Kynan had all encountered magehelds like that, and the fact was, there was no point in severing them. Their minds were completely gone.
Iskander intercepted the first one, and pulling as much magic as he’d ever done before, he punched through its chest. When his hand whipped back, he had the mageheld’s heart in his fist. He whirled in the same motion and did the same to the other. It was over before Carson had even moved from the middle of the room where she and Gray stood.
He faced the two magehelds at the door and grinned. The thought of solving his problem by taking their hearts, too, made his limbs light with anticipation. None of the kin liked to use their magic on a mageheld. You couldn’t feel what they were doing for one thing. That hadn’t stopped him before. It sure as hell wasn’t going to stop him now. He lifted his hands and made a come here gesture with his fingers. They held fast to their places, as they must have been ordered to do.
Carson slid in front of him and severed the first one while Kynan immobilized the other. She did the other as well. Done.
It had been less than two minutes since the four of them had come inside.
Iskander opened the door the former magehelds had been guarding.
The first thing he saw was goddamned Rasmus Kessler sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed with Paisley next to him. He had a finger on her wrist. The magic in the room had sent a scattering of sparks into the air. Paisley was facing the door, and even from where he stood, he could tell her eyes were blank. Possibly, she didn’t even see him. He didn’t dare risk a connection with her. He didn’t want to do anything that would break down or weaken her resistance.
He was aware, tangentially, of Carson, Gray, and Kynan behind him. All his attention was focused on Rasmus and Paisley. Gray moved closer but kept a safe distance.
Mentally, Paisley was fighting hard. Not many humans looked normal when a demon was fighting to indwell. He wanted to kill Kessler so badly he could taste it. In his mind, he saw himself punching a fist through the mage’s chest, breaking through his sternum and closing his fingers around Kessler’s beating heart. He wasn’t just going to take the fucker’s heart; he was going to rip out his spine, too.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iskander said. Just to get something going.
Rasmus jumped off the bed like someone had set him on fire, but he moved without the grace for which he was noted. The mage’s eyes shook uncontrollably, and Iskander recognized that as a peculiarity of Fen’s. He couldn’t feel her, but that skittering inability to focus her eyes had started shortly after she met Rasmus. He figured if he was seeing it in Kessler, then Fen was probably indwelling.
As for Kessler, though he was a naturally pale-complexioned man, his skin was ashen and his braided white-blond hair was damp around his forehead and temples. He extended a hand, palm out, as if that was going to stop Iskander from pulverizing him. In a tortured voice, he ground out, “Help me.”
“Fuck you, mage.”
Kessler’s eyes closed and when he opened them again, his eyes were normal. “Come no closer.” The words and their intonation, if not the voice, belonged to Fen. He knew her too well not to recognize that Rasmus was not in control of himself. It was Fen who was fighting for control of Paisley, not Rasmus.
Iskander took a step forward and welcomed the slip of his mind from his hard-won control. “Mage,” Iskander said. “Are you there?”
Kessler’s eyes jittered again, His mouth opened, and fuck all if Iskander didn’t get a wave of despair coming from the mage. “She is no longer sane,” he said. He ground out the words. “She must die.”
The mage’s head snapped back as if he’d been struck, and Iskander’s brief contact with Rasmus Kessler shut down. Kessler had once been a mage of significant power, and Iskander didn’t have any idea what effect his siphoning of magic into Paisley had been having on his magic. Did time restore his power, or was he permanently diminished by what he was doing to Paisley? Safer all around to assume he was in command of all his magic.
There was no telling what Fen would make Kessler do at this point, because Kessler was right: Fen was no longer sane.
“Fen,” Iskander said. He had himself wide open to the psychic energy in the room, and now that he knew the difference between Rasmus when he was in command of himself and Rasmus when Fen was indwelling, Iskander could construct a sort of mirror image of his former blood-twin. He was, of course, intimately familiar with the madness that had nearly taken him, too.
He didn’t bother hiding anything. Not the physical changes and not his boiling rage. At this point, thanks in part to Rasmus fighting Fen’s indwell, Paisley was holding her own. He just needed her to hold on a little longer. “What is it you want, Fen?”
Rasmus smiled, but it was Fen’s smile he was seeing, her cadences in Rasmus’s voice, her mannerisms in the tilt of his head, the quirk at one side of his mouth. On the bed, Paisley’s shoulders relaxed enough that he guessed Fen’s attempted indwell had eased up while Fen concentrated on him and Rasmus.
“We need you back,” Rasmus whispered in Fen’s voice.
Rasmus
Kessler had been in the business of fucking over the demonkind for more than his fair share of years, and now Fen had access to all the skill and knowledge he’d gained over the centuries. If she was in control of Rasmus, then Iskander had to assume all that magic was at her command. Except maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Rasmus had realized the danger before it was too late, and by sending his magic into Paisley, he’d drained himself of power. He’d endangered his life by making himself less useful to Fen.
“Let him go, Fen.”
“We love him, Iskander. He is ours.”
The skin along his back rippled, but the magic he was reacting to wasn’t coming from Rasmus. It was coming from Paisley.
“Please. We need you.” Kessler held out his arms.
On the bed, Paisley’s body went stiff. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and in the interim, Kessler whipped his head toward Iskander.
“No!” the mage shouted.
Iskander crossed the room and grabbed two handfuls of Kessler’s suit coat. “Let her go, Fen.”
“Iskander—” That was Kynan, but Iskander ignored the warlord.
“I’ve helped her as much as I dare. Kill me,” Rasmus said, low and hard. “If you don’t, she will and it will be too late for us all.”
Iskander reached out for his former blood-twin, but there was nothing there for him to touch. She was mageheld and her magic was bound up with Kessler’s, and, as was the case for all magehelds with respect to the kin, he couldn’t connect with her magic.
Kessler’s eyes jittered madly. “If your human tries any more tricks, I will harm her, Iskander.”
“Let Paisley go, and we’ll talk.” He moved closer to the bed but Kessler pushed back.
Iskander could take Kessler’s heart now. He’d be justified. And Nikodemus had promised to take care of the fallout if that happened.
“I want your promise,” Fen said through Kessler. His mouth twisted as he resisted her control of him. “Promise to come back to us. Promise us, and everything will be the way it should be.”
“Let her go and we’ll talk. That’s the only promise you’ll get from me.”
Light refracted off the rubies in Rasmus’s braids. Iskander glanced over his shoulder and saw Gray a few steps away. Carson and Kynan had come partway in, but Kynan had put himself in front of Carson, because, like most of Nikodemus’s sworn fiends, he was ready to lay down his life to protect Nikodemus’s witch.
“Gray,” Iskander said. The assassin had enough magic to make her a witch. “Are you getting anything from Fen? Is she even there?”
“She’s there.”
“You’re in Nikodemus’s territory,” Iskander said to Rasmus. “We can’t harm the magekind, Fen, and that includes you. If you kill Rasmus, there will be consequences.”
Rasmus held out his arms. “My love, my love, we miss you.”
“One of Nikodemus’s assassins is right here, Fen. If you don’t let the mage go, she’s going to kill you. You won’t see her coming for you, and she won’t let you live. Let him go, Fen. Before it’s too late. Carson is here. She can sever you and you’ll be free. Let him go. Before it’s too late.”
The jitter in Rasmus’s eyes stopped. For an instant, Kessler, not Fen, looked out of the mage’s eyes. He moved so that Iskander was left with a clear line of sight to Paisley.
Iskander’s magic raged at him to be released, whispering in his head, burning through his blood. He would kill them both if he had to, Kessler and Fen. Before Gray had a chance to do anything.
His back rippled again and he shot a glance at Paisley. Her expression hadn’t changed, though her eyes flickered to him. She sat in the same position on the bed. Her frozen stance was typical for an indwell when the human was putting up a strong resistance. Good for her, goddamn it.
He gave Gray a sign that she should do whatever needed to be done. He considered going into Paisley’s mind and just taking over. He didn’t doubt he could do it, but that might open up Paisley to Fen, and with Fen’s sanity in shreds, he just had to hope Paisley continued to keep her out.
Rasmus made an odd motion with one hand, and then Paisley’s head dropped back. Iskander pulled hard enough to send a shower of tiny sparks arcing through the air. He held up his fist, fighting for control of the magic raging through him. The mage’s eyes fixed on his hand. He saw Gray slide close. Softly and with lethal grace.
“Do it,” Rasmus said. “Please.”
Iskander’s skin rippled the way it did before he changed, and he embraced the onset. He was aware of Paisley leaning toward him, of the magic Kynan had pulled, of Carson and her magic, and of Gray positioning herself. But it was the magic coming from Paisley that seriously cranked him. If it was cranking him, then it was cranking everyone else, too.
“If you think I won’t break the rules,” Iskander said, “you ought to know Paisley is under my protection. I’ll die for her. Right here.”
Rasmus opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Now that Fen wasn’t trying to indwell, Paisley could do something besides concentrate on keeping her out. She leaned toward Rasmus and reached for him, the air around her shimmering. Her palm touched the mage, and then she pulled back her hand.
A scream tore from Rasmus, shrill and piercing.
Iskander couldn’t feel Fen’s use of magic, but he could sure as hell feel the result. A barrier went up around Rasmus, but in the larger view of things, the barrier was fucking pathetic. He couldn’t feel it magically, but he could see the physical effects. Iskander ripped through it like it was nothing. Which it was, to him. He grabbed Rasmus by the throat and lifted him up.
Never trust a mage. He ought to kill Rasmus right now and get this over with. Finally. Permanently.
Paisley lifted her hand and touched Rasmus’s forehead, and what she did was pure magekind magic. More magic poured from her than he’d ever felt from her before. “Release the mage,” she said. She was giving Fen a direct order, as if she were a trained mage.
Iskander held his breath. If this didn’t work, if Paisley’s order to Fen didn’t work, he was going to kill Rasmus and take his chances with the aftermath. He pulled enough magic to turn Kessler’s brain to fucking mush.
“Fen,” Paisley said calmly. “You must release him.”
Nothing happened.
The room was silent as death. Everyone waited: Gray, Carson, Kynan. Him. Part of him died inside. He drew on his magic, ready to let all of it release into the mage.
The mage’s body went limp, and he crumpled to the floor, inert. Before him stood Fen, and there was not the least sign of sanity in her eyes. Her physical manifestation was no longer perfect. The shape of her face was off, and the contour of her body shifted. One arm too long, a leg too short.
Fen screamed, but no sound came from her throat. From his left, he saw Carson dart in and sweep a hand across Fen’s chest. Fen gasped and her legs buckled. She fell to her knees. They all felt Fen strike back.
Kynan let out a roar and launched himself at Carson, putting his body between Fen and Carson. The magic that flashed out from Fen struck Kynan.
Paisley fell to her knees beside Kessler.
Fen struggled to her feet, ignoring the others. She reached for Iskander, and her magic crashed over him. For the first time in years, he felt her magic. For a heartbeat, everything was back the way it had been. He drew a breath and refused the push of Fen’s attempt to restore their bond. That was over. Her madness shivered through the room in a sickening wave, and Iskander knew there was nothing left of the woman he’d once loved. Already she was losing her ability to maintain a physical form.
He pulled his magic and took her heart before it was too late.
It was his final act of kindness.
CHAPTER 37
Paisley walked away from Kessler’s motionless body and went to Iskander. He was kneeling beside Fen’s body, his head bowed, whispering. He looked up when she reached him, and he put a bloody hand to her cheek. “It’s over,” he said sof
tly.
She put her arms around him and drew him to her. She wanted to cry but didn’t dare. Iskander put his arms around her and held her close. His heart beat against his chest, in time with hers. While she held Iskander, Kynan Aijan knelt at Fen’s side, too. He bowed his head and pressed his fingertips to his forehead.
Carson and then Gray did the same thing. Like the others, Paisley bowed her head, too. As the last of Iskander’s whispered words faded on the air, Fen’s body vanished.
Paisley shivered. Iskander’s arms tightened around her and he held her closer, his head against her shoulder. She stroked his hair. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”
He stood up, bringing her with him. “I thought Fen was going to kill you.”
“She didn’t, though.” She managed a tremulous smile. “Are you all right?”
“Without you,” he said, reaching for her again, “my life would not have been worth living.”
Kynan stood, too. Blood trickled down the side of his face, and he held his left arm at an awkward angle. He extended his right hand to Carson and then Gray, and both the women were good sports about indulging the warlord and pretending they needed help standing. “You’re a fucking witch,” he said.
Paisley shivered. She was cold inside and out. She turned her hand over. The inside of her wrist was bloody, and she was shaky with whatever had happened to her. At the end, she’d realized that all this time, Rasmus had been sending his magic into her, deliberately weakening himself and giving her at least a chance to defend herself against Fen. If she hadn’t turned out to be resistant, his plan might have worked much sooner. “If I am, it’s because of Rasmus.”
Everybody turned to look at the mage, sprawled on the floor, unmoving.
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