She stalked away, pulling her mind away from Alexander and the girls to focus on the preacher witch.
A half hour later, she joined her Blades, who had assembled in the lounge outside the Great Hall. They were all armed to the teeth. Max had put on her tactical vest and buckled her .45 to her hip and her 9mm to her ankle. She strapped her flat-bladed knives to her forearms and had two more sheathed in her boots. Another was stuck into her waistband. She’d donned a long drover’s coat made of oiled canvas, and beneath it, over her shoulder, she’d slung a sawed-off shotgun. It hung down at her hip. A bandolier of shells slanted across her chest. If she had to do insane-mob control, she was ready.
She had also buckled a sword to her other hip. There was nothing like a yard of steel to make magical creatures stop and think. They did not like iron.
Tyler sauntered in a minute later, his knife spinning around his fingers.
“The boy?” Max asked.
“He woke up enough to eat.” His beast was still raging inside him. His face was shuttered and bland, but he was seething. “He lost it when he started remembering what happened. Judith made him sleep.”
“We’ll make the fucker pay,” Max promised.
Tyler’s expression turned brutal. “Damned right we will.”
“All right, everyone. This is what we’re going to do. We need information on this preacher. We’re going to break into three teams of three. Flint, Steel, and Tyler, you take Rattlesnake Canyon and Rose Park and the university district. Oak, Ivy, and Jody, you’ve got south of Highway Twelve across to the university. Simon, Nami, and I will take the central and west sides. Don’t call attention to yourselves. Find out everything you can about how the local politics have evolved and who this fellow is. Be back here by sunrise. The snow’s coming down hard now—that will work in our favor. One more thing—”
“Max.”
Giselle stood in the doorway. She motioned Max over to join her. “I got a call from Frank Bryce. He’s one of the farmers we’re working with out on O’Brien Creek Road. He says something’s moved in up in the hills south of his place. He’s found dead bears, elk, and deer. Says they’ve been ripped to shreds. He’s afraid for his stock. Our deal with him says we’ll protect him in exchange for lambs in the spring. It takes priority.”
Lambs over a psychopath burning people at the stake? Was she serious? “You can send the Sunspears in the morning to help him. We have to find out what’s going on with this preacher witch. Who knows when he’ll attack us again.”
“I agree, but I promised Frank and I can’t have any of our few farmer allies thinking we won’t respond when they need help.” She made a chopping motion with her hand when Max started to respond. “No arguments. No matter what happens with this preacher witch, we are going to need those lambs to survive the long term.”
Max’s mouth twisted, but she only nodded before turning back to her Blades. “You heard her. Let’s go save some animals.”
LEADING THE WAY TO THE NEAREST EXIT, MAX TOOK HER team out on the north side of the mountain fortress, facing the river. She didn’t pause but leaped down the slope and broke into a loping run. She didn’t bother with vehicles. It was faster to go as the crow flew, rather than back out around the highway and up to Missoula and west again.
The snow continued to fall in a thick, heavy blanket, making it difficult to see. She angled across the valley and northwest. Tyler flanked her on the left, and the others trailed in a long V. The ridges were steep, with sharp spines and towers of rock. Secreted within the folds were pocket valleys, cold mountain lakes, and swift-flowing rivers. Max was well used to traversing the terrain. The harsh edges and jagged contours of the Montana Rockies had been her home for thirty years.
As she ran, she let her Prime rise and flow outward. Her senses heightened, and her humanity flattened. Her predator instincts took over. She smelled the musky scents of animals and the pungency of plants. Beneath them, the stone and dirt were a cool metallic flavor. Birds chirped, and a bear sow growled a warning to something. A moose bellowed, and chipmunks chattered merrily. Woven through it all were the scents of the Uncanny and the Divine.
Until the Guardians had loosed a flood of wild magic into the world, the smells of magic around Horngate had been infrequent. But now they were everywhere. It put Max constantly on edge. It was impossible to tell whether or not something was a threat. It was safer to assume that everything was.
As they approached the area south of Frank Bryce’s place, Max slowed down. She could smell carrion and something else, something rank and wet, a mix of black mold, stagnant water, and rotting flesh. The smell wafted from a canyon just ahead. Max eased up to the lip and crouched by a pile of granite boulders. Tyler hunkered down beside her, with the others gathering behind.
Below was a long canyon with a narrow bottom, like it had been hacked into the ground with a god-sized ax. Trees filled it, and between them and the snow, it was impossible to see the bottom. The rush of water from a waterfall smothered quieter sounds. Max stiffened. Mingling with the natural smells, the scent of magic, and the rank stench, was human scent. She frowned. Who would be down there?
Shouts erupted, and branches cracked like someone or something rolling down a hill. A squeal echoed up the canyon. It sent spiders crawling down Max’s spine. It was like the cry had come from the other side of the grave. Then everything went preternaturally quiet. The hairs on the back of Max’s neck rose.
“What’s going on?” Nami whispered.
“We’re looking at the same things you are. How the hell should we know?” Simon snapped.
Max twisted to glare at him, and he flushed, his lips pinching shut. She turned back to Tyler.
“Take Oak, Nami, Ivy, and Flint. Go around the other side, and work your way down. We’ll do the same over here.”
Tyler scowled at her. “I don’t like it.”
Her brows rose. “Why?” But she knew why. Since Niko’s death, he’d hardly been willing to let her out of his sight. He was afraid he’d turn his back and she’d die or disappear.
“We don’t know what’s waiting down there,” he said. “You could be walking into a shitstorm.” His knife spun like a shining pinwheel in his fingers. “Being a Shadowblade won’t matter if someone puts a bullet in your head.”
Max gave him a long look. She didn’t like letting him out of her sight, either, but in the end, that was beside the point. “This is what we do.” She was telling herself as much as she was telling him. It didn’t make her any less terrified that something might happen to him or anybody else for that matter.
His lip curled. “We don’t have to take stupid chances.”
“Got another idea on how to handle this?”
He said nothing. Simon muttered something, and Jody elbowed him. He yelped loudly. Max shot him a violent look, and he wilted.
“Got a problem?” Tyler asked, his expression flat and dangerous.
“No,” Simon choked out, looking like he wanted to dig a hole to escape.
“Then why don’t you share with the rest of the class?” Tyler’s head tipped to the side, and his spinning knife came to rest in his hand. The threat was all too clear.
“I just said—” Simon flushed and looked away. “It wasn’t anything.”
“Must’ve been something. Enough for you to squawk like a chicken and tell the whole world we’re here. So tell me. Now.”
“It was just a joke.”
Tyler waited. Max didn’t interrupt. This had to be settled, for Tyler and for Simon, who clearly needed a spanking to settle him down to work. She watched to see if any of the intruders had noticed their noise.
“I—I just said it was hard to believe you were wearing granny pants under your jeans,” Simon muttered at last.
Tyler leaned forward until his nose brushed Simon’s. “Let’s talk about my wardrobe when we get back to Horngate, shall we?” he said in a silky voice.
Simon blanched and shrank into himself.
Tyler swung back around. “Don’t get dead,” he told Max harshly, and then started off. Nami, Oak, Ivy, and Flint followed. Tyler grabbed Oak’s arm. “You stay with Max. Simon, you’re with me.”
“But—”
Whatever Simon was going to say was cut off by Jody smacking the back of his head and shoving him after Tyler. He staggered off and fell into line behind Ivy.
Oak settled down beside Max. “Tyler has a point,” he said.
She rolled her eyes at him. He’d only been at Horngate for a couple of months, but he was already too full of himself by far. “You, too? Seriously, did you both drink the same Kool-Aid this morning?”
“Somebody has to be the voice of reason,” he said, entirely unabashed.
“You’re saying I’m not reasonable?”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
She eyed him sideways. “Does Simon need to worry about your panties, too?”
He smiled slowly. His brown hair flopped down in his eyes but did not hide the hard glitter there. “It isn’t funny.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“You should give in a little to Tyler.”
She grimaced. “That isn’t the way our world works. We take risks. We get hurt, and we die. The threats are only coming faster and harder. He knows that.”
“He could break.”
She stared. “If you’re trying to tell me something, say it straight, and stop playing games.”
He drew a breath to speak and then shook his head. “You know him better than I do.”
“That’s right,” Max said, but worry chewed at her. She couldn’t lose Tyler.
“You might remember he’ll take stupid risks to keep you from doing it first,” he added.
Max’s hands clenched, and she forced them to relax. Then, without another word, she stood and skimmed along the top of the rimrock. She stopped at the top of a deep crack that cut down into the canyon. It was full of tumbled rocks, trees, and scrub, now layered with a couple of inches of snow. From unseasonably warm to full-on winter in a matter of minutes. This had something to do with the red dust and the preacher witch. She was sure of it.
But that was a problem for later.
She jumped down lightly, careful to make no noise. Her Blades followed. Max winced as one of them kicked over a rock and tipped off a small avalanche.
She kept moving, going for speed rather than stealth. She angled out along the steep side of the canyon. It was quieter going there. The ground was damp and thick with needles. Their footsteps made little sound, and the low-hanging branches masked their movements.
A breeze ruffled the trees overhead, and Max swiveled her head, sniffing the air. Uncanny magic pooled thick in the canyon. It was an odd combination of bitter and sweet—like a mouthful of salt and cigar butts all drenched in honey. The Divine magic wafted through in thin curls. It was both caustic and sweetly pungent, like lye and patchouli. Mixed in were human smells—salt, blood, and flesh—and that nose-burning rank stench that coated the back of Max’s throat.
Suddenly, shots rang out, and a ghostly wail coiled through the canyon again, sending splinters of ice through Max’s gut. Her eyes momentarily glazed with a gray film as the sound increased in pitch and intensity before ending on an ear-shredding shriek. Max blinked to clear the grayness and dodged behind a tree. Her Blades scattered, finding their own cover.
An odd white mist was creeping over the ground. It was about ankle-high and rolled up the sides of the canyon like a layer of wet cotton. It met the falling snow like a tide of poison. Max hopped up onto the top of an outcropping to avoid it. She crouched, scanning the thick trees. More shots rang out, then violent animal sounds, like a couple of wolves fighting. Max grimaced. She didn’t want to get down into the mist if she didn’t have to. It was just as likely to dissolve skin as anything else. But it sounded like she needed to see what was going on down there.
She decided on the high road, and swung herself up into a tree. She trotted out along a branch and leaped to the next tree. Her Blades followed suit. They swiftly worked their way down toward the shots and the fight.
The hail of bullets burned faster, and the sounds of fighting escalated. Suddenly, it seemed as if it wasn’t just two wolves but an enormous pack. The wailing became unceasing. The sound hurt deep down in Max’s being, hooking and tearing. Her vision blurred, and it was like trying to look through underwater murk. Perfect. Tyler sure as hell couldn’t blame this on her. But he would.
There seemed to be only one throat making the wailing noise. So once they strangled it, they should be able to see. Max turned to Oak, who was on a branch just below hers.
“Oak?” Max whispered.
His face turned up at her. There was something odd about him. Max squinted and blinked, and for a moment, her sight cleared. Oak’s eyes were disks of shining pearl. Shit. That couldn’t be good.
“Stay here,” she said.
“Where are you going? You can’t see. Can you?” The last was hopeful.
“Better than you,” Max said. She could still make out shapes. That with occasional real glimpses might be enough. They sure as hell couldn’t sit in the tree till they became targets.
What was odd was the absolute lack of sound from anything human. The fact that the rapidly fired bullets seemed to be hitting things and weren’t ricocheting randomly suggested discipline.
She slipped the drover’s coat off to keep it from tangling in her legs and eased forward. She leaped to the next tree, scrabbling as she hit with her forearms instead of her hands. She grappled her way onto a branch and skirted around to the other side, feeling her way carefully.
The tree stood on the edge of a clearing. Max could just separate the sound of rushing water in a creek from the wailing. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her vision. It didn’t work.
The smell of rotting death smashed her in the face like a bat. It was a cold, claustrophobic smell, stagnant and sticky. She fought the urge to throw up, swallowing hard. Movement sounded all around, thrashing and scraping followed by a low snarling.
She froze at the sound of someone moving along the tree line. Whoever it was stopped a few feet away. He was human and stank of sweat, grime, and gunpowder.
“Liam, this mist is chewing through my boots and gaiters. I’m gonna have to get up a tree in a minute.” Pause. “Yes, sir. No, sir.”
There was a military snap to his voice. He remained where he was and began shooting again. He was firing some sort of submachine gun. Maybe an HK. But how the hell could he still see?
Max blinked and shook her head, trying again to clear her vision. She picked his shape out from beneath the scrub. He seemed to be wearing camo and was lumpy all over like he was dressed as she was in a tactical vest and a lot of weaponry. He shot his weapon in careful spurts.
He swore. “Dammit! Why won’t those things just fucking die?” A few seconds later, he gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Right, Dawson. You could scare them to death, maybe.”
Max blinked and squinted and finally caught a better glimpse of him. He was wearing camo greasepaint and a military helmet with a set of heavy earphones over it. A microphone branched down along his cheek. That answered the question of how he and his buddies could still see. The headphones were smothering the blinding sound.
She dropped silently to the ground. In a quick move, she snatched him around the neck, yanking away his helmet and headphones and catching him in a sleeper hold. He stiffened and twisted, but she had supernatural strength. In a matter of half a minute, he slumped. She picked him up and hoisted him over a branch to get him out of the mist. Then she felt around on the ground for the helmet. She pulled the headpiece off and pulled it down over her own ears.
Instant relief. The wailing cut off abruptly, and her ears were filled instead with the crackle and hiss of the radio and the sounds of breathing and sputtering voices from whoever else was online.
It took a minute for her vision to clear completely, and when it di
d, she sucked in a soft breath. She was looking out over a rocky basin with a handful of scrawny birch trees. A fast-running creek snaked through the bottom. Fangs of rock thrust up from the frothing water. Just on the near side was a collection of creatures that looked as if they came out of some sort of apocalyptic disease movie.
Their stooping forms were more than seven feet tall, and their gray-green skin was ulcerated and weeping with something that looked like bloody pus. Long black hair hung in greasy, lank hanks. Their faces were long, with pointed snouts and curving teeth. Round yellow eyes bulged from beneath heavy brow bones. Long, sticklike arms ended in enormous spidery hands. They looked like they could grasp a man’s head in one fist and pop it like a tick.
They circled around a bloated white sac that sat ten feet from the creek bank. It billowed and stretched like something was struggling to get out. The mist rolled off it like dry ice in water, and whatever it contained was making the ear-ripping noise.
Max counted fourteen of the creatures, and they were Divine. That meant they had the ability to cast magic, which didn’t necessarily mean much. It could just be that their toenails could grow into instant trees if they were torn out and planted. On the other hand, maybe they could cast wards and other nasty spells.
Either way, they didn’t belong in Horngate territory. She rolled her head on her neck to crack it and loosen her muscles. Max had a feeling they weren’t going to move easily. First things first: she had to shut that damned noise up so her Blades could get their sight back.
“And they say crying babies will drive you insane,” she murmured, forgetting her headphones. “Babies could learn a thing or two from these beasties.”
Silence filled her ears, and a flat, cold voice spoke. “Who the hell are you?”
“We, my friend, are your friendly local nine-one-one responders,” answered Tyler, much to Max’s surprise. “We’ve come to pull your asses out of the fire. You can stop shooting anytime, by the way. You’re wasting bullets. Lead doesn’t bother them.”
“It does when it blows off their heads,” someone said.
Blood Winter (Horngate Witches) Page 6