by Mima
Breath coming hard, hitching with each tap, wheezing from the force it took to endure this, he sat motionless. Bear became increasingly frantic. He wanted out, wanted Donte’s skin, but Donte couldn’t allow that. It would only delay the finish, and delay the hunt while they healed, if they even survived attacking four Alphas and a Bone Shield. So he ruthlessly refused Bear’s desperate demands for help.
Bear had never been this out of control. As the gouging pain rose up toward the starting point at his temple, long strings of phlegm flew from Bear’s muzzle. The dirt his claws had churned up beneath the shredded vegetation mixed with blood. He roared continuously, Donte’s ears ringing with the echoes.
He lost his ability to hold still as the mallet came up over his cheekbone. Now half a fingerlength was left before some terrible, permanent silence. Donte faced what he had done. In his determination to destroy his enemies, he and his Bear had found a forbidden way to survive.
Thad had attached the spell and Donte had not rejected it. When he returned to sanity and realized what he’d done after that first time, he clung to the decision, rationalizing it as essential for the clans. But in maintaining the dark link to Thad, in allowing Bear the freedom forbidden to all trux beastspirits, he’d arrogantly chosen his own satisfaction, condemning the other half of himself.
He’d betrayed Bear. To the very end. He’d used him with full knowledge of the damage he inflicted, let Bear take the burden while he escaped. He’d defied the laws, knowing this was coming, and that it meant nothing to him. But to Bear, it was spiritual death.
Flinging his mighty head, body shivering from exhaustion, Bear stumbled weakly, paws sliding in the muck Donte had made of his magescape. He no longer reached out to Donte, groaning as he fruitlessly sought an escape with the last of his strength.
Numb with constant agony, sick, raging with bloodlust, Donte watched. Brutally, with more effectiveness than any of the darkmages, he observed his destruction of Bear. The sand shivered beneath him at the same time Mac’s light flared. Both were signs his emotions were sliding into his magecraft. He wrenched himself under control. Horrible visions of what would happen to Bear when Mac closed the tattoo ring around his face burst into his mind. Nausea burned in his ribs, roiling and ready.
For one endless heartbeat, Donte almost let go. It was there, the call he’d always heard but resisted, the choice to disappear into Bear. All he had to do was let Bear out, and drift away. Let Bear finish the time in this body. Bear had stood by him, so why couldn’t he stand by Bear, and end this, and just give back the time Bear had stolen for him?
Thad’s handsome, golden face popped into memory, with his dazzling happy smile and clear, jewel-like blue eyes.
And for the hate, for the fear, for the pain that roiled over that vision and tore it into misty shreds, he sat still. For to kill Thad was worth anything. Himself. And Bear. His body held to the earth as Mac lowered the lance for the final drop of ink. Donte’s blood contained his fire as Mac raised it up again, his own thin, honorable sandcat scars glimmering in the steady light. But Bear’s spirit howled and thrashed, eviscerated and tangled, until he collapsed onto his side, ribs heaving.
Tap. The world burst red. Tap. His body washed white. Tap. Bear’s breath eased out as gently as a dying hawk’s, drained to the bottom with failure.
Donte continued to breathe, jaggedly. Mac continued to work, adding ink in a ring around Donte’s throat. When it came time to do his hands, though, first Proteus and then Gren had to hold his trembling arm still. Mac tapped across the backs of both hands and circled his wrists. All of these were faint scratching, barely registering as pain to his conditioned body. They were visual markings. But the spelled tat around his face continued to pulse in time with his heartbeats, thrumming with agony.
The darkcraft spell he clung to writhed, seeking a greater purchase, seeking control, powered by his fresh torture. He’d given it control in careful bursts of time, just enough to fool Thad. But now he saw how much of it had focused on Bear. Without Bear blocking it, hooked fangs sank deep into the tenderest places. Donte watched, beaten down with sorrow, as a whole section of his ragged jungle hideaway withered.
Movements came from Mac as he packed up his tools. The men didn’t say anything as they moved away into the night. He’d thought they’d gloat. Dom was the last to leave.
Donte kept breathing, watching the still form of Bear, unable to believe the weight of sorrow. Compared to his father’s disgust, compared to his Alpha’s banishing him, compared to watching that first hawk reduced to a blood-soaked skeleton, compared to a dozen memories of horror in the fortress where he’d participated in evil at the urging of Thad’s spell, compared to the first night after having killed those wolves, compared to waking after claiming Moriko… Well, grief came in many flavors. And just when he thought he’d tasted them all and couldn’t sink any deeper, he did.
He smelled her before he heard her angry, frustrated, silk-clad feet pattering over bricks.
She flung herself down in a spray of sand. “What have they done to you?”
It took a long time before he found the ability to form words. For her, he tried. Since he was so committed to the truth, he said, “I did this.”
Her breath caught. “It’s more than these marks, isn’t it. What? What did they do, Donte?”
She always named him correctly. A gentle touch hit his jaw like an avalanche. His head rocked and her finger disappeared. He wasn’t sure what they’d done, besides break Bear. Bear hardly existed, lying there bleeding in the wreckage. “I am rogue.”
Death to rogues. The memory of boyish voices screaming the call as they pretended to go on an honor hunt echoed, mocking.
“Look at me.” She touched his shoulder.
He swayed, barely able to support his own weight. Eventually, he opened his eyes. It was dark. Her face barely silvered in the faint moonlight. Up on the rise above them, magelights glowed gold across the walls and windows of the palace. She leaned in close, all vibrant citrus and durable earth. With human vision, she peered into his eyes, squinting.
With a mate’s vision, she whispered, “What did they do to Bear?”
He looked away.
“He’s not dead. He can’t be. Not while you live.”
“Not dead.” Worse.
Her hand hovered so close to his arm he could feel the soft heat of her. “I—Should I…” She sat back, hands disappearing into the shimmering froth of her dress. “There’s nothing I can do, is there?”
He breathed through the twisting shards in his lungs, held himself still for the gnashing in his gut. She sat with him in the starlight, unsure and frightened. She didn’t understand this was her fate, too. She sat with him, a beauty he in no way deserved. The urge to take her sprang to life. He could push her back, pin her and surround himself in the rush of sex. She’d let him, even like it. He could shunt himself into her for hours, disappear, hope the call of her would sing to Bear.
“I need to kill.” He blinked in time with her, surprising them both.
“You want to … hunt darkmages?”
“Yes.” The word was a sigh. By the Mist, he was tired.
“You seem to be hurt. Surely taking the battle to the enemy while you are weak is unwise. Come to the room with me.”
He shuddered, holding his bile down by the merest breath. The darkspell fighting for dominion curled, slinking closer to Bear’s still form. “I want them to know I’m fighting them.”
“I thought the idea was to keep them unsure, so they believed you still theirs.”
“No.” Let them come for him. Let Thad realize the spell he was so proud of was a lie. Let him know it had been Donte playing Thad all along instead of the other way around.
“That seems awfully risky. I could see you declaring yourself that way after you’ve already cleared most of the City, but to do so with enemies all around might mean you are overwhelmed.”
He stood up. He wasn’t sure how, and he wobbled, but
he was up.
She scrambled up, too, her headdress glittering. “If you really want them to know, a safer way would be to throw off that horrible spell you hold to. Just let it go and declare yourself free.”
Free. What a joke. Yeah, he was free. But he was alone. “It is what lets me hunt them. I will never let it go.” He breathed, the salty breeze clinging to his throat, sticking in the back of his mouth. “It will disappear when the last darkmage is dead.”
Not that he had to last that long. He’d be able to drift away when Thad was gone. He’d lay himself down inside Bear, and finally know peace. Bear didn’t care about honor. He cared mostly about strawberries. He’d been very fond of strawberries.
His eyes burned. “Take me hunting, Moriko.” He fell back to his knees, pressed his forehead into the gritty sand. “I beg you, Princess. I will grant whatever play of manners you desire tomorrow.”
“Donte! Get up.” She huffed. “I am not bribing my mate to behave on his wedding day.”
Her hands burned his biceps as she pulled on him. He rose. The tattoo on his face seemed to be swelling. He felt like he’d been sealed into a mask.
“Please,” he continued, utterly without pride. “Just get me into the main City.” From there he could follow this creeping spell and do the rest.
“Only if I can come, too.”
Did she want to watch him rip out throats and dance in the guts of evil? He nodded. Let her torture by him commence. Let her learn the truth of him, since she seemed to have been willfully blind to it during their mating. He was brutal. It was in his soul.
She took his hand. “Should we stop at the armory?”
“I won’t need armor or weapons.” Truthfully, armor might help against some of the darkcraft spells they used. But he didn’t deserve it. Weapons were everywhere. A sword would only slow him down.
She sighed. “Then we’ll go first among my Guild. For I fear there are more like the one you killed this morning and I would have my own house clean.”
She led him up the wide terrace steps he recognized from her magescape and through the halls. Twice he caught people whispering about her, but they were never in sight and it was beneath his ability to care that people found him shocking. It was that attitude that had gutted Bear. She led him through the bailey and through the inner guardhouse. One of the men asked her if she needed help, but she refused it calmly.
It was like a dream, walking in the shadows with her, passing through pools of magelight and seeing her cream dress come alive. The whole place was like a maze to him. He’d need to see a map very soon and not just of the Royal compound, but the whole City.
She paused outside of a peaked arch. “This is the entrance to the apartments of the Guild, most of whom, but not all, are probably here sleeping. If I walk you through the halls, is that enough, or do you need to see them?”
“I’ll be able to sense them through the walls, but I don’t know how far in. Are the apartments deep?”
“Not at all, maybe three rooms at most.”
“Is there anyone you suspect?”
“No.” She looked down. “There are people I know have conspired with the darkmages, though. Will you target them?”
Interesting issue. People willing to ally with evil were only one step away from it. Like him. “That will be something for your guards to pursue. I’m after darkmages.”
She stepped into the archway, then stopped. “Do you think sensing them will bring Bear back?”
He hunched with the force her lance sent to his heart. “No. I think Bear is done with me.” They’d shared this war, but it hadn’t been Bear’s. Bear had only fought for love of Donte.
“You can barely stand.” She moved up and put an arm along his back.
Ridiculous, thinking she could brace him. “Go.”
“I’m scared.”
“You should be. You don’t belong here.” She didn’t belong anywhere near him.
“I’m not much backup. Should I get some of the martens—”
“No. Fuck no.” He wondered briefly what had happened to the guard he’d asked to watch over her, but it was a passing irritation, since she was here by his side, safe, and it was him dragging her into danger. “Either go back to your room or go the fuck forward.”
She stepped away from him and to his surprise led the way. The formidable stone façade along the street gave way to wooden halls, varnished and glossed with beeswax. He could sense the sleeping people on both sides, all innocent. The doors staggered down the hall, about four bodylengths apart.
At the end of the hall, he was vibrating, mouth dry. They came to a staircase, stone again. At the top the hall stretched left, right, and center.
“We can go east and west up the four flights, then back down north and south, or we can cover each floor before moving up.”
“Is this the only way out?”
“No. There’s another staircase ahead, and at the top there’s access to the roof, which connects to several other buildings.”
He turned and spun a trap over the staircase. At least one escape was blocked off. “Let’s do one floor at a time.”
Inside the third door they came to, he sensed the pulse of a darkmage. Inhaling all his hate and exhaling all his fear, he motioned to her. She opened the door.
The room inside was tidy, with a table and chairs on one side, and another arrangement of more comfortable furniture on the other. There were two doors. He went to the other door first, and saw a room with two young women in it. He closed it, motioning Moriko to lock it.
He went to the other one, heart pumping. Bear’s absolute inert silence was like a massive weight. He’d never, ever, gone into battle alone before. “Lock me in.”
“But that means the wife won’t be able to escape.” She gestured at the painting of a happy family of four on the wall.
“Moriko. Lock me in.” He stared her down, making no promises to protect the innocent. It was a darkmage’s favorite tactic, to hold one person’s pain over another, to force them to choose between enduring it themselves or blaming themselves for giving it to another. If he didn’t kill the darkmage quickly, it was likely to take a hostage. As long as that person wasn’t Moriko, he would do fine.
“I—That doesn’t—No.” She shook her head. “It’s not right to endanger the innocent to protect myself.”
And Moriko was the reason they loved the tactic. She was perfect for it, ripe with self-sacrifice, duty, and nobility. “Fine.” He stepped in and trapped the door. If either Moriko or the innocent tried to cross the barrier, they’d be knocked unconscious.
Turning, his senses pulled him straight to the sleeping woman. So much for the innocent wife. He strode to the bed and grabbed it by the throat. It woke up, eyes bulging with shock in the instant before he snapped its neck.
The husband leaped from bed, stuttering, crying out, sucking in breath to scream for help. Leaping over the empty shell, he punched the man in the face. He crumpled, silent. He bounded down off the mattress. Walked to the door and dismissed the spell.
He stared at Moriko’s motionless form which reeked of fear. “I didn’t think this through. He’s going to wake up soon and alert everyone. I’d like to move through as much of the building as possible without detection.”
She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like this is systematic. There’s too many who could be sleeping elsewhere or awake and off somewhere. Soon we’ll organize a complete fealty presentation and you can make sure every single one of the Guild and Royals are accounted for.” She stepped forward so jerkily her hair swayed against her cheeks. “Well? Is Bear…?”
“No.”
Her face creased, her fingers fluttering up to her lips. “Oh, Donte.” She threw herself against him.
Standing, looking down at her, he simply couldn’t process her heat, her desire to touch him for comfort.
“Are you alright?” She looked up at him, face pressed to his chest. “I mean, did the darkmage … is he dead?�
��
“Yes. The darkmage is dead. I am unhurt. And before it became walking greed without a soul, it was a woman.” It had been a very, very long time since anyone had wanted to be close to him. He wasn’t sure what to do. He knew from watching others he could lift his arms and put them around her. But this wasn’t sex. Neither of them held lust, and he just didn’t know what to do with her. “I want to move on.”
She squeezed him.
He stood still.
She let go. “All right. What about the daughters? I can’t just let them discover their parents like that.”
“I don’t care.”
She gave him a look. “We didn’t think this out. I should have a Temple priest here to help the family.”
“Go get some.” That should take her at least a half hour.
She bit her lip. “I don’t want to leave you alone. What if you get hurt?”
“Look at me, Moriko. I’ve been hurt lots. I get over it.”
She pushed off from him, anger burning through her fear scent. Hissing in a whisper she spat, “You’re not allowed to die. I just found you. We’ll get Bear back. I don’t want you to do anything stupid. Oh, I wish I could see your eyes.”
He looked at her. He could see her perfectly in the faint light from the hall. But he lit the magelight in the room anyway with a pulse of will. “There you go.”
Her eyes flared wide and she threw the back of one hand to her mouth.
“Not a good new look, huh?”
She shook her head. “It is perfect on you. No one will ever pity you. The marks are so very fierce.”
He wore the mark of a rogue perfectly because he was one. He turned on his heel and went to the hall, dowsing the light. “I’m moving on.”
“I will go to the inner Temple and send for more priests from the City.” She grabbed his hand.
He stopped dead.
“Be careful, Donte. Don’t you lose yourself to this.”
Her fingers slid away and he mentally released the spirit-poison trap he’d guarded his back with, freeing the stairs before she disappeared down them.