“Easy,” he told the woman. “I’m going to get him.”
When the Daemon didn’t change directions at Jag’s arrival, the Feral eased around the post, out to the edge of the abyss, ready to attack before the Daemon did.
“Jag!”
The warning, carried by the howling wind, came too late. He felt one blade bury itself into his side as a pair of hands shoved at his back, ripping his balance out from under him.
Mage. Where in the hell did they keep coming from?
With furious desperation, he tried to turn, to regain his balance, but the ground between his feet was slick with rain, and he failed. There was no going back, only forward. He was going in.
But even as the hopeless thought registered, the Daemon drew near. In a move he would later decide had been born of pure madness, he vaulted up and out, straight for the Daemon. Hooking his good arm around the fiend’s neck, he swung onto its back and held on, knowing that to let go meant a one-way ticket into a swirling red death.
The Daemon cried out, anger in that hideous voice, as he shot out over the center of the vortex, bucking wildly. Right under the orbs. Hot damn.
But Jag’s right arm was still half-numb from the venom. And while he held on with his left, he wasn’t sure he had enough strength in his wounded arm to wield the knife still clutched in his hand. Dammit, he had to.
Squawking and bucking, the Daemon slashed at the arm Jag held on with, ripping through flesh and muscle, clipping the bone.
Jag yelled with pain and fury. If the Daemon took his left arm, it was all over. Desperation was an electric current inside him, but his nearly numb arm felt like lead as he lifted it, shoulder height, then higher. Pulling on the strength slowly pouring into him from the woman he loved, he shoved everything he had into an upward thrust, aiming for the closest orb. And missed.
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
Black ropes of wet Daemon hair slapped him in the face. Sweat began to run down his temples, mixing with the raindrops. Another claw slashed through his forearm in a different place, stripping off another chunk of flesh as the Daemon continued to thrash.
Jag bit off another yell and tried again. He. Could. Not. Fail.
Thrusting every ounce of his strength into his wounded arm, he made a hard upward stab and caught one of the orbs this time, shattering it in a flash of brilliant light.
Thank the goddess.
Deep inside his head, Olivia screamed. His heart stopped for one terrible moment, then began to pound again as he felt that glow inside him, her glow, brighten. Tearing her free might hurt her, but it was a necessary evil.
As the Daemon whirled in fury, Jag stabbed at a second orb, shattering it, too.
Again, Olivia screamed. Again, her glow grew brighter.
One more. Just one more.
The Daemon clawed at his arm, this time digging deep into the bone. Jag felt it snap and knew he was out of time. Sweat rolled down his back, his guts cramping as he held on with the last of his strength. Clutching Olivia with his mind and heart, he thrust his knife skyward one last time before he lost his grip.
The final orb shattered. The Earth rumbled as if preparing to split asunder.
His grip on the Daemon started to give, and he knew he only had seconds. Dammit, if he was going down, this sucker was going with him. Remembering Hawke’s last words, he tried to dig his knife into the Daemon’s throat to carve out his heart, and failed. His half-numb arm wasn’t strong enough to get the angle he needed.
With a feral growl, he tossed the knife into the void, drew his claws, and sank them deep into the Daemon’s throat, succeeding with brute strength where finesse had eluded him. His fingers closed around the hot, wet, pulsing mass of Daemon heart, and he yanked hard, tearing it loose, and sending the creature to hell in a puff of smoke.
As gravity took over, and Jag began to fall, he thought of Olivia, how he’d never get the chance to prove to her that he’d heard her. That he’d changed.
He’d never get the chance to show her how much he loved her.
But only a few racing heartbeats later, Jag landed on the ground with a jarring thud. As his knees absorbed the impact, his mind assimilated the astounding fact that he was standing on wet grass, that the darkness had lifted, the light changing from a red glow against darkness to rainy daylight.
With the destruction of the orbs, the vortex had closed.
The wind still whipped with hurricane fierceness, driving stinging rain against his naked flesh, but the Daemons were gone. And even as his gaze found Olivia, his brothers dispatched the last of the Mage. The battle was over.
Olivia smiled weakly, her hair lying soaked across her cheeks. She looked as beaten as he felt. As he started toward her, he found himself suddenly surrounded by the other Ferals.
Kougar clapped him on the back with a seriously un-Kougar-like enthusiasm. “Unbelievable,” he shouted above the wind and rain.
Paenther thrust out his torn hand, grasping Jag’s numb forearm. “I wish I’d had a camera. I’d like to see a replay of that flight.”
Wulfe shook his big head, flinging raindrops. “Where the hell did you learn to drive a Daemon?”
Jag tried to laugh, but his heart was too heavy. Tighe and Hawke were gone.
Lyon clasped his arm last, meeting his gaze. “Well done. And you got Olivia to stop feeding.”
Something inside Jag froze, his gaze shooting to her, watching as her bright head dropped as if she’d fallen asleep. Goddess. That soft buzz in his blood…It was her life force draining away.
“She’s feeding us! She learned how to reverse it, but she’s not stopping. It’s going to kill her.”
Jag took off at a run, Lyon close behind. Over his shoulder, Lyon shouted to the others. “Secure the area before we free the humans! I want no more Mage surprises.”
Jag reached Olivia, no warding barring his way this time, and he pushed the wet hair off her face and cupped her cheek. “Liv, you have to shut it off! Quit feeding us.” But she couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t comply. She was out cold.
Lyon moved behind her, drew claws and cut through her bindings. Jag caught her as she fell forward, hauling her against him with the better of his two arms and sank to the ground, pulling her into his lap until her precious head lay against his chest.
“Olivia, wake up! You have to shut if off.” A wave of pain tore through his mending limb as the bone reknit, but that pain was nothing compared to that of his heart. “Olivia, please.” But it was too late. She was past waking, slipping away, and he was powerless to stop her.
Jag looked into his leader’s gaze, feeling more helpless than he had since he’d watched his mother burn all those years ago.
“I don’t know how to save her, Roar. I have to save her, and I don’t know how.”
Understanding and sympathy filled Lyon’s amber eyes. “She’s your mate.”
“How am I supposed to live without her?”
“Maybe you won’t have to.” The Chief of the Ferals shot to his feet, took a step back, and shifted into his lion. Vhyper, bring Kara. ASAP!
He shifted back to a man and knelt beside Jag and Olivia once more. “Tell me what happened. How did she strengthen us? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Jag squinted against the rain as he looked into the curious face of his chief. “The Daemon energy gave her the ability to direct her feeding, or reverse it. The spell she was under wouldn’t let her cut off the feeding, but she finally managed to send it back to us, to feed us. But now she’s locked into that cycle. She’s no longer feeding from us, but she’s still giving us the last of her energy. She’s giving us her life.”
Lyon watched him. “She’s a powerful weapon in the wrong hands.”
Jag’s teeth clenched. “Roar…”
“Or the right hands. The Mage tried to use her against us, yet through her own considerable will, she turned the tables on them. A hell of a weapon. A hell of a woman.”
Jag bent over her, pressing his
lips to her hair. “Don’t leave me, Liv. Don’t leave me.”
He barely noticed when Paenther joined them.
“The place is empty,” the panther shifter said. “The Mage have definitely been using it, though. There was an interesting clear cage in the basement that still echoes of energy. The other Ferals are freeing the humans and clearing their minds. One’s dead. Two need medical attention, but their injuries aren’t too severe. They should survive.”
“Lyon!” Kara’s clear voice rang out over the yard.
Jag lifted his head moments later as Kara flew into Lyon’s arms and Skye rushed to Paenther. Behind them followed a pale, glassy-eyed Delaney. Goddess, she’d lost her mate. Just as he was about to lose the woman he’d have claimed as his own. Empathy for her embedded itself in his heart.
Vhyper and Ewan brought up the rear.
Kara looked at Lyon’s missing arm with a mix of horror and resignation. “It’ll grow back, right?”
“In an hour, it’ll be good as new.”
She sighed. “Good.” Her expression turned instantly focused. “Why do you need me?”
“Olivia helped us. I’d like to return the favor.” His hand cupped the back of her head. “Call the radiance, Kara, but only touch Jag.”
Jag’s gaze jerked to his chief, a flicker of hope flaring to life inside him.
“No promises,” Lyon warned him. “But we’re going to try.”
Kara lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of Jag, her gaze soft but determined. “I’ll pull the radiance first, then touch you for just a moment. I don’t want to electrocute her.”
Jag took a deep, desperate breath. “Help her, Kara.”
In a flash, she called the radiance. Instantly, her skin began to glow as if she’d swallowed the sun, and it now lit the day from within her. Slowly, carefully, she touched Jag’s bare foot with her fingers, then drew back.
“Anything?”
He closed his eyes, focusing, fiercely trying to sense a difference, a miracle. But try as he might, he felt nothing. Olivia continued to give up her life.
“No change,” he said, his voice choked.
Kara touched him again, this time curling her glowing hand around his foot and holding on.
“Now?” she asked.
“No.” He felt that glow inside him that was Olivia, sensed it wavering and sputtering, on the verge of winking out. His grip on her tightened, the desperation a storm inside him. He couldn’t lose her!
She needed Kara’s energy, but a direct shot would kill her as surely as a lightning bolt. Only the Ferals, through their armbands, were able to channel that kind of power.
Through their armbands…
Jag’s back went ramrod straight, adrenaline pumping through his blood, riding a surge of hope. He began issuing commands.
“Kara, move back. Paenther, take Olivia for me.”
“What are you doing?” Lyon demanded.
“What I need to do, Roar. She needs radiance, but she’s not getting enough through me. She needs a direct shot.” As Paenther lifted Olivia off his lap, Jag leaped to his feet and turned to Lyon. His armband curled around the only arm he could use. He needed help.
“Get this armband off me, Roar.”
Tawny eyebrows lowered over hard amber eyes. “No. Kara is not touching a life-stealer directly.”
A growl rumbled out of Jag’s throat. “She’s not stealing. She’s giving her life to us.”
Beside him, Kara rose to her feet and pressed her glowing palm to her mate’s chest. “I love you, Lyon, but don’t keep me from doing my job.”
Lyon’s hand covered hers. “She’s dangerous. And she’s not one of yours.”
“If Jag loves her, she’s not only one of mine, she’s one of ours.”
Lyon’s jaw turned to stone. For one throbbing moment, Jag heard nothing but the pounding of his own pulse in his ears, the blood turning molten in his veins.
With a harsh exhale of air, Lyon scowled. “I can’t remove your armband. You’re the only one who can do it.”
Jag swallowed back his anger, realizing Lyon hadn’t outright refused. “By the time I heal enough to be able to take it off myself, Olivia will be dead.”
Lyon shook his head, as if to himself, then reached out and grabbed Jag’s mending arm, lifting it in a fiery rush of pain. Curling Jag’s own fingers around the silver, he pulled the band loose.
The jaguar spirit urged him on. Deep inside him, Jag could feel the animal’s desperation to save Olivia, every bit as strong as his own.
As he held her, Lyon slid the jaguar-headed band around Olivia’s arm, squeezing it tight so that it wouldn’t fall off. In Jag’s mind, he felt the jaguar nodding its head up and down, up and down.
Jag took Olivia from Paenther, cradling her against his chest, and sank to the ground.
Kara knelt beside him. “Don’t move, Jag. Without the armband, I’ll kill you if I touch you.”
“Help her, Kara.”
She met his gaze. “I’m going to start slowly again.” Kara reached for Olivia’s hand, touching her lightly.
Olivia jerked violently, her life glow flaring.
Kara snatched her hand back, her gaze flying to his. “Did I hurt her?”
“No.” Hope began to take root. “Do it again. Hold her hand until I tell you to let go.”
With a quick nod, Kara did as he requested, curling her glowing hand around Olivia’s far-too-pale one.
Again Olivia jerked. But that glow inside began to grow, just a little at first, then more and more, brighter and brighter.
“It’s working!” As the color slowly washed back into Olivia’s cheeks, his vision blurred from the raindrops running into his eyes until he could barely see through the moisture.
Maybe it wasn’t the rain. His skin rose with goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold as his chest filled with a pressure so intense it might have driven him to his knees if he weren’t already sitting.
Beneath his arm, Olivia began to stir.
Kara pulled away before he could ask her to, her glow winking out.
Jag blinked hard, clearing his vision enough to meet Kara’s gaze. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Jag?”
“Yes, Radiant?”
To his surprise, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m glad you found her. Good luck.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “Thanks, Kara. I may need it.” He’d found the love of his existence, then made her life a living hell. How could he ever prove to her he’d changed? How could he ever convince her to stay with him? Always.
Olivia opened her eyes slowly, feeling disoriented yet surprisingly warm despite the fact she was soaking wet from the rain whipping in the wind. She knew at once Jag held her, his scent warm and safe, his heartbeat strong in his chest. As her vision cleared, she looked up to find him gazing at her with eyes filled with…love.
With horror, she realized she was feeding and shut it off fast. No, not feeding. At least not in her usual way. She’d been sending energy out, not pulling it in.
“What happened?” Her voice sounded groggy, her mind felt disoriented, and she tried to sit up.
To her surprise, Paenther reached for her, helping her until she could slide her arm around Jag’s neck. Then he grasped her upper arm. “May I?”
She looked down and gaped at the sight of Jag’s jaguar armband around her arm.
Paenther pulled the band off her and returned it to Jag’s muscular arm.
Jag tightened his hold on her. “You were feeding us when you fell unconscious. We almost lost you.”
“The Daemons? Are they really gone?”
“All dead.”
“What about the humans?”
“Three killed by the Daemons and the Mage. Three are still alive.”
“I didn’t kill any of them?”
“No.”
She lifted her hand and trailed her knuckles down Jag’s damp cheek. “T
ighe and Hawke?”
Pain darkened his eyes, and he turned his head, pressing a kiss to her palm. “We lost them.”
“Oh, Jag. I’m so sorry.”
“We have a problem, Roar,” Wulfe said, striding up to the group. “We’re having no luck clearing the minds of the humans. One appears to be blind from birth. He didn’t see anything, but neither can we get into his head to clear his memories. And the two females have seen far too much.”
“Are they going to live?”
“If I heal them. The male was never touched, and neither of the female’s injuries is bad. I can handle them.”
“Olivia was feeding them,” Jag told them. “I asked her to.”
“We didn’t want them to die.” Now it seemed that the energy she’d given them had made them too strong for mind erasing. She swallowed. “I’ve killed them, haven’t I?” Her stomach tightened with misery, but she had no illusions. Humans could not be allowed to spread word of the immortal races.
Lyon sighed. “There’s been too much death here already. Knock them out and heal them, then we’ll take them back to Feral House and lock them up until the energy Olivia fed them wears off. Hopefully by then we can figure out a way to clear their minds and bring them back here.”
Olivia tipped her forehead against Jag’s cheek, relieved, then looked up to meet his tender gaze. He stared into her eyes, his own, fathomless pools of emotion.
“We need to talk, Liv.”
“They’re not dead!” Delaney’s cry rang out over the battlefield. Olivia straightened as Delaney ran toward them, her eyes at once haunted and jubilant. “Tighe connected with me.”
“Where are they?” Lyon demanded.
“He doesn’t know. It’s another void, like the warding in the Mage stronghold. He can’t move, can’t see, can’t hear. He’s in pain. Terrible pain. But he’s alive, Lyon. He’s alive.”
“What about Hawke?”
“He doesn’t know. He can’t communicate with him.”
Jag’s hold on her tightened. “We have to dig them out.”
“No.” Olivia knew her voice barely carried above the howling wind and rain, but all heard. Their gazes swung to her, frowns creasing every brow. But she had to explain. They had to know. “It won’t work. They’re not here. The vortex was a kind of wormhole, a way to the place where they’re being kept, but digging through earth won’t get you there.”
Feral warrior 4- Rapture Untamed Page 25