Blood Winter (Horngate Witches)

by Francis, Diana Pharaoh

  She wanted to answer. She had chosen him. She just hadn’t figured out what that meant yet. And this, now, wasn’t a choice. She was fighting as hard as she could.

  “Fight harder.”

  The implacable words cut like a falling ax. Then his face faded to gray, and her mind was full of pearly mist. Gradually, it, too, faded, until there was almost total darkness.

  She was dying.

  It wasn’t the first time, but it could be her last.

  GISELLE’S VOICE SIFTED THROUGH THE DARKNESS FIRST. Her words were scattered and jumbled, but then Max grinned as she realized the witch was still swearing.

  Feeling prickled over her body and then sank in like pins pushed slowly into a corkboard. Fire followed. Max sucked in a breath as her body twitched and contracted. She became aware that she was still holding on to Giselle. She told herself to relax and let go, but her knuckles refused to unlock. She blinked, opening her eyes.

  She was lying on the floor of the vault. Giselle knelt beside her, her free hand pressed flat against Max’s heart. Black strands of magic spooled and looped around her. Her hair flowed with it, turning her into a wraith. Her face was white, and her lips were clamped tight as she continued her litany. She fell silent when she saw that Max was awake.

  “About time,” she said, pulling her hand away. It shook. “Can you let me go now? I think my arm is broken. I’m at least going to have serious bruises.”

  Max followed her look down to where her fingers coiled around the witch’s arm. She was white-knuckled, and Giselle’s skin was already purpling beneath her grip. All the same—

  “I don’t think I can let go at this point,” she said, and her voice was disgustingly weak. “Did you get rid of Sterling?”

  “For now,” Giselle said. “But we have to put him down soon. I used the Fury Seed, but I’m pretty sure that only slapped his hand. I’m hoping he’s tired from the energy he already expended today. If we’re lucky, it will take him a day or two to collect himself.”

  Max lifted her head. It was probably the heaviest thing she’d ever lifted. “Luck is a fickle bitch.” Her head fell back against the floor. She told herself to sit up. She didn’t listen. Even breathing was exhausting.

  “So,” she mused sardonically. “Sterling has Kyle, Carrie, and Tory and seemingly endless power. We have two mostly dead angels, no Grims, a bunch of semiparalyzed people, and let’s see—one territory witch, two Triangle witches, a Circle witch, one untrained Star-level witch, and one hedge witch who is next to useless. Oh, and we have the Fury Seed.”

  “That about sums it up. Except for me having a broken arm and you being somewhat dead as well,” Giselle said.

  “I guess it’s pretty much business as usual, then.”

  “Pretty much. Can you move yet?”

  Max had been trying to relax her hand, and it finally gave a fraction. Her brow furrowing, she concentrated. Finally, her fingers spasmed open and then curled into a claw. Giselle jerked away, cradling her arm against her stomach.

  “That hurts a bit,” she said. Her face was pale, and sweat sheened her skin. She smelled rank, and now Max noticed that her shirt was drenched. Scratches hashed her skin, and blood trickled from many of the welts.

  “Attack by itching. That’s a new one on me,” Max said.

  “I’ll have to remember it,” Giselle said. “It’s very effective.”

  “So something good came of all this,” Max said as she finally persuaded her stomach muscles to sit her up. “A new torture technique to add to your inventory. How nice for you.”

  Giselle’s phone rang suddenly. It was a low trill of clarinet notes. She dug it awkwardly out of her pocket, having to use her opposite hand. She glanced at the screen and lifted her brows at Max, then answered. “Alexander. I was going to call you.”

  “Is she all right?” he demanded without preamble. “I tried calling her. She is not answering.”

  With her supernatural hearing, Max heard every word clearly. She frowned. How did he know something was wrong? But then, he’d gone feral for a while and come back from it, which was unheard of. After he’d come back from the other side, he had abilities he’d never had before. Maybe this was one of them.

  “She’ll live,” Giselle said. “But I want you back here.”

  “We are just west of Deer Lodge. We will get to the River Market an hour after sundown.”

  “You had the dream, too?”

  He laughed harshly. “That was no dream, and you know it.”

  Giselle grimaced. “What about the Grims? Are they with you?”

  Silence. “I would not expect them soon.”

  “What happened?”

  “They went . . . elsewhere.”

  She waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more. “All right. Do you want to talk to Max? She’s right here.”

  More silence. Thick and hot. “I think not.”

  Giselle’s brows rose as she looked at Max. “Okaaaay,” she said. “Then we’re done. Get here fast.”

  “We will. Do try to stay out of further trouble until we return. I would rather not scrape your ass up off the floor.” The phone went dead.

  Giselle lifted it from her ear and glared at it. “Just who the hell does he think he’s talking to?”

  “You,” Max said.

  Giselle scowled at her. “You and I both know the message was for both of us. He was perfectly aware that you were listening in.”

  Max shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s still funny.”

  “I may have to teach him some manners soon,” Giselle said.

  “I’d like a front-row seat when you do. And popcorn. For the record, I’ll put my money on him for the win.”

  The witch arched a brow. “Then you’ll be broke. I’ve taken both of you to the woodshed before, and I can do it again.”

  Max shook her head, a slow smile curving her lips. “I don’t think so.” She heaved herself to her feet. “Besides, for once, we’re on the same side. You don’t want to fuck that up. Making enemies out of us would really ruin your day. Sterling already has too much going for him.”

  “Got any idea why Alexander didn’t want to talk to you?” Giselle shot back. “Did he find himself a new girlfriend? Maybe one who doesn’t chew his ass and treat him like he’s got leprosy?”

  Max recoiled from the barb. It was too close to the truth. If she didn’t get her shit together, Alexander wasn’t going to hang around. He would find someone else, someone who acted like she wanted him. The question was, how long before he had a bellyful and gave up on her?

  She straightened and glanced around the chamber. Tyler had managed to push himself up onto his elbows. He gave her a searching look. She turned away, feeling exposed. Her gaze hooked on the continuing gleams shining on Tutresiel’s wings, then flicked to Xaphan. Tiny blue and purple flames flickered around the edges of his iridescent feathers.

  Max blinked. The flames didn’t go away.

  “Holy Mother of fuck,” she whispered, and treacherous hope started to thud heavily in her chest.

  IT WAS AFTER NIGHTFALL WHEN TYLER HAD RECOVERED. He and Max had eaten all they could, and both had drunk a gallon or more of the disgusting Ugly Juice.

  “Ready?” Max asked as she shoved herself away from the table.

  Tyler stood, giving her a pirate smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

  A brambly recklessness had grown up around him in the last few hours. It was prickly and unpredictable, with an edge of wildness. It was also catching.

  Max found herself grinning back at him. “Let’s go raise some hell.”

  “Please don’t,” Giselle said, walking in through the door. She looked haggard. “I came to tell you to be careful.”

  Max just stared at her.

  The witch rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. Your job is to find Sterling and then bring us to him. No more.” She glared at Tyler. “Keep an eye on her.”

  “Don’t I always?” he asked innocently.

  “You’re
just as likely to follow her into her insanity,” Giselle said.

  “But I watch her the whole time,” he said with a grin. “Most times with both eyes.”

  “I can’t believe I’m sending you out together. Neither of you has the sense the Spirits gave rocks. Where’s Gregory?”

  “We were just going to get him,” Max said.

  “No need. I’m ready.” The dark-haired witch strode in. His black hair fell over his eyes. His lips were set in a flat line, and Max could feel his magic like a trapped thunderstorm. He wore a lightweight jacket with a lot of bulging pockets. Max didn’t bother asking if he would be warm enough. His clothing was no doubt magically warm and protected against weather.

  The gaunt witch glanced around at the others eating in the dining commons, and then his sunken gaze settled on Max. He looked prepared to kill. That was a change. Gregory was a natural healer. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Not a thing, Tiger,” Max said. “Give me your hand.”

  She reached out to both Tyler and Gregory, but before they could move, her younger sister, Tris, barged in between them. The other woman looked older than her hard-earned forty-six years, while Max’s body would be stalled at twenty-one until the day she was killed. The perks of no longer being human.

  Tris flipped her graying hair over her shoulder, worry cutting deep furrows between her brows. She was beginning to get that plastic look of fury and panic that she seemed to wear a lot lately. It was hard dealing with a world turned inside out with magic, a father and a brother who were witches, and a suddenly not-dead sister who wasn’t human any longer. That was on top of nearly getting eaten by a horde of hungry fairies and losing her home and everything she owned. Stir in the fact that she’d watched Tory and Kyle get dragged off by a crazy preacher witch with a taste for blood and torture, and she had a right to her panic and anger.

  “What are you doing to get Kyle and the kids back?” she demanded, her jaw thrusting out.

  “If you get out of the way, Tyler, Gregory, and I will be off to look for them right now,” Max said, annoyed at the accusation in her sister’s voice. She had told Tory and Kyle to stay put. It wasn’t her fault they’d ignored her.

  “Look for them? Just the three of you? And then what? They could be already—” Her voice broke. She swallowed, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You find them and bring them back. This is your fault.”

  “Hold on a motherfucking minute,” Tyler said, stepping around to face Tris. His fury crackled like a bonfire around him.

  Tris scooted back, glaring at him.

  “How is this Max’s fault?” he demanded, following her until he had her trapped against the wall. “She saved you and your family from certain death. Sure, your idiot daughter and brother wouldn’t be in this mess if Max had left you to die weeks ago. She probably should have, given what an ungrateful bitch you’ve turned out to be. As for your kid and your brother, they were told to stay here and to not go into Missoula. But they chose to be stupid. Not that it was a surprise. They usually do. I don’t know what the hell kind of parents you and your husband are. When is it your turn to take responsibility for that juvenile delinquent you raised? I swear, if you all weren’t Max’s blood, I’m betting Giselle would have booted your asses to the curb a long time ago.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he spun around to get in Max’s face. “Do not say a word,” he said. He was shaking with fury. “Take us out of here before someone gets my fist in her face.”

  Without a word, Max grasped him and Gregory and dropped through her fortress and into the abyss. She was more than a little shocked at the vehemence of Tyler’s tirade. It warmed a part of her that had been frozen since Niko’s death. She hated having hostages to fortune in the shape of her friends and family, but this reminded her why it was worth it. To have someone who would take her side no matter what, who would follow her on a one-way ticket to hell and never complain, who would make her laugh and piss her off and make her love him forever.

  Which made her think of Alexander. Tyler was safer. He didn’t demand so much. He didn’t cost as much. And she didn’t love him the same way.

  Love.

  She loved Alexander. How the hell had that happened?

  Refusing to consider the idea, she shoved it into the back of her mind and pulled them out of the abyss and into the devastation of the River Market.

  “Holy mother . . .” Tyler breathed as he turned around.

  “Nothing holy about what happened here,” Max said tightly.

  The stench of burned bodies and wood turned her stomach. Worse was that a thin sliver of it was almost pleasant, like barbecue, only this was the kind served in hell. The ground was frozen, a hardened churn of mud and blood. Snow was beginning to fall again. Gregory sucked in a harsh breath, but before he could speak, a shot rang out. Tyler jerked with the impact and grunted. Max grabbed him and Gregory and took a running jump into the air. Her leap took them soaring. More gunshots followed, bullets whistling through the air around them. None hit its mark.

  They landed several hundred yards west, dropping down onto the roof of a store in a downtown strip. The snow was a good couple of feet deep. Gregory sprawled across it while Max set Tyler on his feet. He groaned.

  “Where are you hit?”

  “In the side.” He lifted his shirt and vest. A hole the size of a quarter bored through flesh a few inches below his ribs on his right side. It was a through-and-through. Max took up two handfuls of snow and flattened them over the holes to stanch the blood until his spells fixed him.

  “Good thing they can’t see at night,” she said, more shaken than she wanted to let on. That was too close. “I’m not liking the shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later attitude, though.”

  “They are trigger-happy,” Tyler said, wincing as she pressed against the wounds. “With good reason. I get a feeling we’re not going to be making a lot of friends around here.”

  “I’m sure that Sterling planned that. Divide-and-conquer works best for him.”

  “Let me see him,” Gregory said, pushing her aside. His hands replaced hers on Tyler’s side, and green magic flared. A moment later, he pulled away. All that was left of the holes were little fading puckers.

  Max swallowed around the knot in her throat and turned to go crouch on the edge of the roof. The river was south. “I think we’re up on the old Macy’s,” she said over her shoulder. Tyler hunkered down beside her as Gregory stood behind.

  “The River Market is, or was, over there.” She pointed to where smoke still rose. “We should be able to pick up Sterling’s trail and follow him back to his hideout. Not that he’s hiding.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  She gave Tyler an assessing look and then glanced up at Gregory. He gave a little nod. She stood, slipped her arm around their waists, and jumped down to the ground, the feather in her hand making them float rather than fall.

  They started working their way back. Max went first, with Gregory behind and Tyler bringing up the rear.

  There were far more people about than Max had expected. Too many of them for her, Tyler, and Gregory to go unnoticed for long. They needed a better plan.

  She stopped in the mouth of an alley just a block from the River Market. Piles of shopping carts littered the road, along with other stinking garbage and debris. There were dozens of burned-out cars and an abandoned garbage truck. Feral cats flittered off like shadows.

  Ahead, she could see a crowd of people gathering near the market. More than a crowd—a good hundred or more. They appeared to be arguing. She could hear the rise and fall of angry voices but couldn’t make out the words.

  Then gunshots rang out again, and a handful of people crumpled to the snow. There were screams and chaos as a ragged line of attackers moved up out of the trees by the river. They were firing rapidly into the panicked crowd. A few people collected themselves to fire back but not enough to do any real damage.
/>
  “They have to be Sterling’s people,” Tyler said. “They’re fucking slaughtering them.”

  “Not again,” Gregory said, and he started muttering to himself as he stepped out of the alley and flung his hands out. A streak of green magic shot across the open field. It dropped down in front of the line of shooters and disappeared. Ten seconds later, tentacles of green shot up out of the ground like massive jungle vines. They roped and squirmed over the ground, finding the attackers and coiling around them.

  In less than a minute, all of them were caught in Gregory’s snare.

  “Time to die,” he said, and the vines sucked back down into the ground and vanished, along with their prisoners.

  Max and Tyler were silent a moment, then Tyler slapped Gregory on the shoulder. “Elegant. Capture and burial in one fell swoop. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  The witch shook off his hand, staring at the field of people, who had gone silent except for the moans and screams of the wounded. “I’m done watching innocent people die,” he said meaningfully and then walked away, right toward the field.

  Max overtook him, stepping in front of him as a shield. “Just because you helped them doesn’t mean they aren’t going to try and kill you,” she said.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Tyler came abreast of Max. “You’re taking our chances, too,” he pointed out.

  “Walk away, then. I won’t tell.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Tyler said. “Even if I was willing to leave you, Max wouldn’t, and I won’t leave her. We’re like those cousins who show up at holidays to eat all the food and never leave. You’re stuck with us.”

  “Your choice.”

  “Not really,” Max said. “But I would be really disappointed in you if you walked away.”

  Gregory gave a short laugh and said nothing.

  “Stop right there!” someone shouted.

  The trio did as ordered.

  “We’re here to help,” Max called. “We can help with your wounded.”