Hearts of Darkness

by Kira Brady

  Hart had never paid much attention to the Lady, except to curse Her name. She’d marked him as a Changeling, after all, and cast him out. Damned him to the moon madness and forced him to fight for his survival. For the first time he listened to the words of the prayer and it didn’t rub him the wrong way. Perhaps She had set him on a different path, but not a damned one. He’d met Kayla, hadn’t he? He’d learned to fight better than most of these Kivati solders. Maybe he’d be able to keep her safe, with the Lady’s help.

  A third of the Kivati force Changed and took to the sky. The rest piled into steam-powered jeeps. Kayla and Hart rode with Kai, Corbette, and another soldier. They drove northwest from Queen Anne to Ballard, over the Aurora Bridge and along the Ship Canal. The sky was eerily quiet. No rain. No wind even. The clouds hung low, pregnant with tension. Trees bent away from the sky as if frightened of the coming storm. Humans could feel it too. Few braved the open streets. Even the lifeless buildings seemed to hold their breath.

  The Kivati who had remained human let their consciousness soar across the Aether into their black-feathered spies. Their eyes filmed white. A murder of crows took to the air until the sky was black with them. There was no hope in pulling off another surprise attack. Corbette was simply going to flood the Drekar lair with soldiers, like the beaches of Normandy.

  The Locks still smoldered; a thick column of smoke rose into the air, joining the dirty cotton clouds stretching across the sky. The fresh water in Lake Union and the Ship Canal, without the Locks to hold it back, had dropped by a good four feet, bleeding into the sea and exposing yards of slimy green lake bottom. The closest boats to the shore in Fisherman’s Terminal were grounded; they floundered like beached whales on the mossy rocks.

  Next to Hart, Kai’s eyelids fluttered as he connected his mind to a crow. “Jace is in position,” he told Corbette. “Theo waits for your signal to launch.”

  “And Rudrick?”

  “Still no word.”

  Corbette gripped the head of his cane, which Hart realized was his tell. The Raven Lord was considering an attack without one of his top sentinels. Rudrick was probably lying dead in a gutter somewhere, an early casualty of Norgard’s grand plans. Nothing else could keep a Kivati sentinel from the coming battle. One more reason to hate Norgard. For what Rudrick had done to Kayla, Hart wanted to kill the bastard himself.

  “Give the launch order,” Corbette said. “We go in firing. Take no prisoners—”

  “But what about the other women?” Kayla protested. “I wasn’t the only one Norgard kidnapped—”

  “They chose their path.”

  Kayla looked like she wanted to argue more, but Hart quieted her with a quick kiss. Old Ironsides there wasn’t going to change his strategy, and Kayla needed to be in control of her emotions if she had a prayer of using her gift. He still thought this idea was crazy. She wasn’t trained in blood magic. She didn’t know anything about her power. Though he had to admit, she’d used it pretty good last night.

  That thought had him adjusting his leather pants. He hated this getup. Didn’t allow his boys to breathe. It had gotten to the point that the mere thought of this woman sitting next to him made his dick sit up and take notice. Forget the alluring smell of her. Forget the feel of her small, soft hand clinging tightly to his.

  The coming battle should act like a bucket of cold water, but the adrenaline pumping through his system had always had the opposite effect on him. He wanted to grab her hips, lift her onto his lap, and thrust into her for one last good-bye.

  Lady be damned.

  Loki’s Chocolate Factory came into view at the top of the hill. No time to indulge that carnal daydream; the attack began. Crows filled the sky with premature night.

  This was his last chance. “Kayla, I . . .” He cleared his throat. “I . . . hell.” He couldn’t do it. “I don’t want to jinx you. Just . . . just stick close.”

  “Like glue,” she promised.

  Rockets exploded from the Sound side into the cliff face, sending up a shower of dirt and sparks. The ground shook. Thunderbirds dove from high above, the undersides of their giant wings reflecting the rocket’s orange glow. Jace—his Thunderbird form recognizable by his sheer size and the red tips of his wings—disappeared with six others behind the now smoldering building. The plan was for them to fly in through the windows Theo had blasted open and enter the Drekar Great Hall.

  Other Thunderbirds covered the exodus from the jeeps, which screeched to a halt in front of the building. The invading force poured out of the vehicles, Changing mid-leap. Fur and claw ripped from human bodies. The Change started at the extended arms and rippled down the torso and legs. Tails grew last. Men left the jeeps on two feet and landed on four paws.

  The beast army didn’t stop. It stormed the factory doors before the Drekar knew what hit them. Some dragons escaped to jump into the sky and grapple with the Thunderbirds hundreds of feet above the ground. Wings of skin met wings of feather, both beating rapidly against the cold salt air. Scales and feathers rained down upon the predators below. The Thunderbirds called thunderbolts from the sky and hurled them at their enemies. The dragons spewed fire in response.

  Elinor—in Cougar form—bit a chunk out of a Dreki’s thigh, causing the creature to stumble. She was a runt, but her claws were sharp. No soulless lizard could match her in ferocity.

  The Raven Lord hadn’t Changed. He stood facing the ocean with his arms extended. Kai hovered over him in Thunderbird form, protecting his back. Corbette called on the power of his people. The earth trembled. The wind blew in from the north, shaking the trees. Waves crashed against the base of the cliff, forming hands of water that grasped and clawed at the lair from below.

  Hart didn’t Change either, though the Wolf inside him tore at its tether. His swords unsheathed, he protected Kayla with his body and waited for Corbette to give the word to enter the lair.

  In the Drekar Great Hall, Sven Norgard lounged in his throne made of gold and bone. A killing mood throbbed in his temples. He dreadfully missed the days when he could fly over Europe and burn everything in his path. This civilized pretense was a bore. He couldn’t wait until Kingu broke free and took the earth back from these wretched sheep. In his daydreams, he slaughtered them one by one, until only those with beautiful burning souls were left.

  Like Desiree. She had been a breath of fresh air in his stifled existence. Her smile was infectious and without artifice. Truly, she hadn’t seemed to care about his treasure or political power. He remembered the first time he saw her. A day of sun breaks, when the mountain was out and the air tingled with the call to fly. She was buying strawberries at Pike Place Market. Her yellow frock, so innocent and pure, set off her tanned skin beautifully. He was attracted to the brightness of her soul, of course, but as he drew closer it was her eyes that captivated him. Caramel and set too far apart, they took in the world with almost childlike wonder.

  Later, after he’d seduced her and she lay naked, twisted among his gold thread sheets and jeweled belongings, it was the sound of her voice that had called him. It was light and lulling, like a lyre played by Freya’s hand, and he had been content to let it wash over him. To warm himself in it, lazily, like a dragon basking in the sun.

  He should have thrown her out like he had with others, but she had seemed . . . special, somehow. A diamond among pearls.

  Desi’s sister was a conniving bitch. He could almost admire her cunning, bashing him with that blasted wine bottle. He shouldn’t have tried to romance her, but he’d been swept away having a bit of Desi back.

  Tiamat smite her.

  Norgard kneaded his temple. He needed to be patient. Couldn’t lose his wits to this burning anger. His plans had led up to this moment. He was so close, but the threads of his machinations were quickly slipping through his grasp.

  Thorsson rushed into the Hall moments before an explosion shook the windows. “Kivati!”

  More rockets hit the cliff face and glass shattered. Thunderbirds swoope
d in through the broken frames, calling gale-force winds at their backs.

  Thunderbirds in the middle of the day? What had happened to Corbette’s strict hide-from-the-humans policy? The Kivati’s actions had always been sadly repetitive. Dependable. Predictable. Small-scale retaliation on Drekar businesses or individuals. But this was a full frontal assault like a shootout at high noon. There would be no way to hide this atrocity. The humans could explain away a single overly large airborne bird as a plane or a mistake of the eye. The six that flew in his window, with most likely more on the way, were impossible to ignore.

  What had changed?

  His interest piqued at the new challenge, even as his stomach dropped. His people were unprepared for an annihilation attempt. Perhaps this was his destiny. Death was the only great adventure he had yet to try.

  “Move, my liege!” Thorsson yelled. He unsheathed the broadsword at his back. His first swing clipped a Thunderbird neatly beneath the wing, crippling the creature so that it crashed to the ground.

  Its talons scraped for purchase along the stone floor. The sound was awful: a bow across a saw magnified a thousand fold. The Thunderbird slid the length of the hall and crashed into the dais at Norgard’s feet. Its feathers began to shiver. A milky glow appeared at the creature’s neck. It flexed its shoulders, and the light fell down its wings like a blanket being shrugged off. Bone, muscle, and feather disappeared behind the ripple of light, leaving a brawny human body behind. Blood dripped down the left arm from the man’s armpit. He tossed his Thunderbird head, and the long hooked beak fell backward like a mask and disappeared, leaving square features and close-cropped dark hair. His violet eyes flashed with hate.

  “Bravo,” Norgard said. “I haven’t had such a close demonstration since I captured that ravishing Kivati female back in 1900.”

  The Kivati curled his fist as if to conjure a thunderbolt from the Aether. A few sparks shot from between his bloody fingers, but he didn’t have enough strength. He drew his lips back in a snarl and rushed the throne. Naked as the day he was born. Weaponless. He would have made a fine berserker.

  Rockets continued to bombard the cliff face, destabilizing the ground. The Hall shook.

  “Let’s make this more interesting, shall we?” Norgard said. The arms of the gilded throne ended in two bone hilts. He seized these and pulled up, lifting the swords from their secret resting place. He tossed one to the Kivati and raised his own. The man grabbed the sword mid-arc and rolled. He slashed out at Norgard’s legs. Norgard parried the thrust.

  “What prompted this foolish mission?” Norgard asked as he sliced the Kivati’s injured arm. A thin ribbon of blood welled from the cut.

  “The Gate must . . . unh!” The Kivati lunged, but the ground shuddered beneath them at the same time, and his sword slipped.

  Norgard evaded easily with a step left. “Keep your tip up. Must what?”

  The man held his injured arm tightly against his side. Blood had dribbled all the way to his knee. He would soon expire all on his own. Norgard glanced around the Great Hall to see his men in battle with the other five Thunderbirds. Three had Turned to dragon and flew about the ceiling. Bone chandeliers crashed to the ground in their wake.

  Where were his other soldiers? The battle must be in more places than this.

  The Kivati in front of him took advantage of his momentary distraction. The man tossed his sword to his left arm, which appeared to be not as injured as he had let on. Norgard blocked the offensive thrust, but while his sword was engaged, the Kivati Changed his right hand to claw. He raked Norgard down the right side of his face, drawing blood. He dug his talons into Norgard’s throat and held tight.

  Norgard couldn’t move. He swallowed. “Good show. Now tell me, must what?”

  “The Gate must stay closed.”

  “Ah, yes.” Norgard saw Thorsson sneaking up behind the Kivati. He didn’t let his face betray anything. “I assume you found out about the necklace? I’ve had it for quite a few years. Why now?”

  The Kivati squeezed his talons. “The princess—”

  Thorsson plunged his sword between the man’s shoulder blades. His body stiffened. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open. His fingers released the sword in his left hand, and it clattered to the floor. Norgard used the opportunity to raise his sword and slice off the man’s clawed hand that still grasped his throat. Blood splattered Norgard’s chest and face, but he felt immediate relief in his poor pincushion of a neck.

  “Bloody hell, Erik. Let the man finish his thought. The Kivati princess . . . what? She’s had some new blasted prophecy? She’s sneezed, and they blame me? What? Answer me, damn you!”

  Red spittle appeared at the corners of the Kivati’s mouth. His lungs wheezed like a ruptured bagpipe. Thorsson braced his foot against the Kivati’s back and yanked out the sword. The man crumpled to the ground.

  Thorsson bowed his head. “Oops.”

  Norgard turned to survey the Hall. The storm blasted through the broken window. It hurled glittering hail, leaving a blanket of ice on the stone floor. Knife-sharp winds ripped through the room, tearing the tapestries from their hangings and knocking about the few remaining chandeliers. Three of his men and two of the Kivati lay lifeless on the floor like colorful piles of modern art: splattered with red and blue paint, bone and sinew torn open to the air. The others still fought.

  “Check the Hall doors,” he ordered. “Something has prevented my men from making a dramatic entrance.”

  Thorsson wiped his bloody sword on the skin of the slain Kivati. “Ja, Regent.” He returned shortly. “Locked from the outside—”

  “Seems our recent guest has been busy spilling all our little secrets. The window it is.”

  “Ja, but, surely, it is a trap—”

  “Of course. Corbette stands atop the cliff directing this storm. It would be rude to ignore him.” Norgard staggered as the cliff took another hit. Precious jewels from the ceiling rained down. “Besides, I believe the roof is about to cave in.” He felt his skin stretch and his jaw jut out. The familiar burn ran down his spine as his body grew. The air crackled with magic. His shoulder blades ripped through the skin of his back and sprouted wings. He flexed his new dragon body, flapped his wings, and pushed away from the ground with his muscled thighs.

  It would take more than a spot of bad weather to take down a dragon as old as he.

  Chapter 19

  Kayla crouched over an injured Kivati warrior and pressed gauze tightly against his wound. He’d been gouged by a dragon from his sternum to his groin. She tried to ignore the battle, pain, and death surrounding her.

  Hart stood over her with his arsenal of weapons slaying anything that got too close. He really was good at his job. The thought sent a sick jolt through her gut. She was a healer. He was a killer. She’d always abhorred violence, but this time she appreciated Hart’s skill. He was using it to protect her. Nothing got past him, except the weather. Hail beat on her back as she tried to shield her patient’s body.

  The Raven Lord had called a storm to ravage the cliff face. He didn’t seem to care about the damage to the rest of the city. Boats in the marina far below crashed against the rocks; their timbers bobbed in the angry waves like the bones of drowned sailors. Trees were pulled up by their roots, and the larger branches whipped against neighboring houses like giant battering rams.

  The screeching wind masked the battle cries.

  Her patient was dying. She could feel the light inside him flicker and slowly fade. “No, damn it!” She drew on her own soul and tried to give him strength as one would stoke a dying fire. It didn’t work. He was losing too much blood.

  Her eyes flitted over the battlefield and landed on a fallen dragon twenty feet away. “Hart!” she yelled over the wind. “I need blood.”

  He scowled back at her, not wanting to leave her side. Who else in her life had ever tried to protect her? She had always been the strong one.

  “Please.” She saw the struggle in his gorgeous eyes
, but he couldn’t refuse her. He checked the sky and surrounding field. No enemies were near. With a backward glance, he sprinted to the dying dragon. He cut the monster’s throat and filled his scabbard with the blue-black blood. When he returned, she accepted the scabbard. The Kivati was too far gone to drink it. Would it work applied topically? She had to try. She poured it over the deep wound in the Kivati’s chest.

  His eyes shot open. The blood on his chest seemed to bubble. He cried out and flailed on the slick grass. Before her eyes, the skin regenerated and knit together over the deep cut. He clutched his left breast, but it seemed to be in surprise more than pain. A deep moan reverberated in his throat.

  “I think you’ll live,” she told him.

  The next moment the sky erupted in a fountain of flame. Kivati and Drekar on the field threw themselves to the ground to escape the sparks. Iridescent purple wings emerged from behind the cliff, followed by a long, rusty snout and row upon row of sharp, jagged teeth. The dragon that rose into the sky was the largest she’d seen yet. Powerful too, for the Raven Lord’s weather didn’t blow the creature off course. Oval scales glittered over its sleek muscles. It hung suspended over the battlefield, beautiful and terrible at the same time. The ancient being surveyed the field almost lazily, until its eyes caught Kayla.

  “Norgard,” Hart said in her ear.

  She’d seen him as dragon before, but her brain had blocked the memory. She tried to connect the urbane gentleman she’d met to this nightmare creature. Something in those hollow eyes gave him away. Her presence seemed to enrage Norgard as the attack on his lair hadn’t. The dragon’s huge chest inflated as if to breathe a mouthful of fire. Kayla could already smell the burnt meat and cinders, along with a peculiar hint of cinnamon.