Magic Unchained n-7

by Jessica Andersen

  She hit hard and found that the shield didn’t do a damn thing to buffer the impact, leaving her dazed. She thought she heard someone shout her name with frantic worry, but she couldn’t stop now. The camazotz approached her, loomed over her—

  And she yanked her machine pistol off its harness, fired screaming, and blew its head to mush.

  Reality shifted around her as the creature’s body wavered for a moment, still upright, and then toppled in slow motion, crumpling forward onto her. She tried to roll clear, but shock and the power drain of the blood-link slowed her reflexes and the body hit her, slid sideways, and pinned her lower legs to the ground.

  “No!” She shoved at the huge creature. “Gods, no!” It didn’t move. But already she could see the wounds beginning to knit as the thing regenerated.

  The battle raged around the dome in a cacophony of gunfire, explosions, and screams, but the leader’s silence hadn’t gone unnoticed. A pair of camazotz detached from the dome and headed for her, eyes blazing.

  Panic slashed through her and adrenaline flooded her bloodstream; she struggled, shoving at the big creature, trying to move the immovable— Shit! Don’t be an idiot. Going for her knife again, she risked turning off the shield to grab the bat demon’s limp penis. It was as thick as her wrist, slick with sweat and ichor.

  Gagging, she set her knife to the base and started hacking. Ichor spurted, but she kept going, sawing through the surprisingly tough flesh until, with a last rasping knife slice, the thing’s penis parted from its body.

  And all of it—bat demon, dick, ichor, and all—disappeared in a puff of oily smoke.

  “Cara!” Her head whipped around at the sound of Sven’s voice, and her heart clogged her throat at the sight of him charging down from a narrow ledge with Mac right behind him.

  “Sven!”

  “Behind you!”

  Magic boomed suddenly at her back, driving her to her knees. A wing whipped where her head had been, and a clawed hand slashed through the nearly empty air, just grazing her shoulder. But even that small slice burned like unholy hell, more painful than anything she could remember experiencing before.

  She screamed, fell, and rolled, trying to get away from the camazotz that rose over her, its eyes burning with feral hatred.

  “No.” She grabbed for her pistol, but the harness was empty and her hands were rapidly going numb. Dimly she remembered Natalie talking about how one small scratch from a camazotz could knock out a full-grown man for twenty-four hours or more. “Noo!”

  It furled its wings and leaned in, reaching for her with wicked claws as its mouth gaped wide to reveal viciously sharp reddish brown teeth. But then a dark blur raced up behind the demon and launched itself into the air with a feral roar, and a lean, dark-furred coyote slammed into the bat demon, driving it off her with a ravenous snarl.

  “Mac?” Cara slurred, confused, yet beginning to hope against hope that this was real and she wasn’t already dreaming. Yet her vision blurred and it suddenly seemed that there were two coyotes attacking the camazotz. Which had to be a dream.

  Then, as her consciousness wavered, she saw Sven coming toward her, saw all the world’s anguish in his stormy eyes, saw his mouth moving, shaping her name, and—

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “No! Cara!” The words tore themselves from Sven’s throat as he raced toward her, aware that JT was closing from the other direction, shielded and carrying his medic’s kit.

  The winikin didn’t waste words; he dumped the kit, drew his knife, and killed his shield as he strode toward where Mac and the sable coyote were standing over the body of the demon they had taken out. When the female snarled at him, Mac barked a warning, or maybe an explanation.

  And Sven didn’t catch a word of it. The new coyote hadn’t spoken to him since that first blast of communication, and he was deaf to Mac. More, his magic was dead. Finished. He’d used it up fireballing Cara’s attacker… and he’d been too damn slow to do it.

  “I’m here, babe,” he said, dropping to his knees beside her and gathering her in his arms. His voice broke at the limp, unresisting feel of her normally strung-tight body and the pale gray-green cast to her skin, the fierce reddish black of the claw scratch on her shoulder. JT joined him, his face going grim, and Sven’s voice broke as he kept talking to her. “Sorry. You don’t like ‘babe,’ do you? I’ll have to come up with something else.”

  He was babbling but he didn’t want to stop, because if he did, JT would tell him what he already knew: that the equinox and the closeness of the end date had strengthened the venom of the camazotz from a soporific to a poison.

  “Let’s get her inside the shield,” JT said, his voice equally ragged. “Natalie fought it off in a quarter the time it should have taken her to wake up, I think because she was connected to the magic. You can boost her, help her.”

  Sven nodded and gathered Cara up, hating how light she was in his arms, as if the life had already drained out of her.

  “Hurry!” Brandt called from the center of the chamber, where the defenders had knocked back nearly all of the camazotz, buying a brief window of safety while they all regenerated. Some of the winikin were out hacking away and puffing the bat demons to dust, but the creatures were regenerating faster than they were being banished. “Run!”

  Sven ran, with JT leading the way and the coyotes on his heels. They made it inside the shield-stone perimeter just as the first demon lunged to its feet once more, screeching and pissed off, only to get a faceful of explosive-tipped jade bullets and go down again.

  “Everyone back inside the line!” Patience commanded as six other camazotz regained their feet, then four more. “Retreat, now!”

  Most of the winikin responded instantly. Breece, though, kept hacking away, calling, “Just one more—” She broke off with a strangled cry when the demon yanked itself from her grip, grabbed her by the neck, and bit down.

  The crunch was horrific; the sight of her body going limp and then getting tossed aside was even worse.

  Closing his eyes on a moment of silent prayer—for her, for all of them—Sven carried Cara to the little spit of sand where they had stood in their first shared vision, the one that had started them down the path to this place, this horror.

  He cast a look around at the chaos of a battle going badly wrong. The Nightkeepers had managed to raise a glimmer of red-gold magic around the screaming skull and were bearing down, repeating the chant over and over again, trying to pierce the barrier between this life and the next and not getting far. The winikin were battered and exhausted; their blood-links were faltering even with Brandt and Patience acting as buffers, and the shield was flickering in and out.

  Most of the camazotz had fallen back, but not because they had lost their leader. No, they were keeping up just enough of an attack to wear out their enemy. Then, once the shield was down all the way, they would move in. And feast.

  Sven’s blood chilled, but he found a prayer. Or maybe more a question. A challenge. Is this what you wanted, gods? Is it? Or did I fuck everything up by turning my back on the woman I love?

  His brain hiccuped a little at the “l” word, but his heart didn’t miss a beat.

  Cradling her to his chest, he breathed her in and found himself thinking simply, Please, gods. It was what she always said when she wasn’t sure whether she had the right to ask for their help. And for the first time, he knew how that felt.

  He didn’t deserve her, hadn’t fought hard enough for her when the time was right, and now he might be too late. But he loved her, damn it. He fucking loved her.

  “Give me one more chance,” he said softly—to her, to the gods. “I promise I won’t let you down ever again.”

  And, wonder of wonders, he felt a quiver of magic run through him at the vow.

  Heart jumping from zero to sixty in no time flat, he opened himself to the power, sought it, latched onto it, and threw his soul into its warmth. He tore open the winikin connection he h
ad blocked so self-righteously that morning, and welcomed the pain. Then he channeled all of his energy and that tiny quiver of magic straight into the winikin bond, whispering in his soul: Please, gods.

  For a second nothing happened. And then, just barely, he felt the thinnest thread of a connection, a faint trickle of warmth.

  Come on, come on! He held nothing back, but still it was more a stream than a torrent. Why was he so weak? He had come back to make amends. He knew what the visions were now. Yet still his magic didn’t return. Had he damaged things with Cara so irreparably that even his power had turned away?

  “Give her your magic,” JT urged. He was crouched down on the other side of Cara now, though Sven hadn’t sensed his presence. The winikin’s expression was urgent. “It’s the only way to burn off the poison.” And although he didn’t say it, they both knew the winikin were down to the dregs of their energy, and probably the Nightkeepers as well. They needed a boost and they needed it now.

  A few days ago—hell, even a few hours ago—he and Cara together could have put some serious power into the mix. Add in Mac and the sable coyote, who was crouched near Cara’s head, watching her with worried eyes, and they might even have been able to turn things around.

  Now, though, he shook his head. “I’m trying. It’s not enough.”

  Worse, she was fading, getting weaker, letting go. He could feel it, but couldn’t stop it. And for the first time in his life he felt truly helpless, truly at the mercy of the universe.

  A ragged sob tore at his throat. “Don’t you dare give up on me. Not now. Not—” He broke off at a tap on his shoulder, jerked his head up with a growl. And saw Sebastian standing there, offering his bleeding palm.

  Twenty more winikin stood behind him, a mix of the factions. Beyond them, a skeleton crew was doing their best to hold the shield around the magi, who were bleeding from their hands and tongues as they called on the First Father to return. Worse, the camazotz were massing once more, their blazing eyes fixed on the shield with hungry intensity.

  “Take it,” Sebastian said, turning up his bloody palm to the light. “She’s ours too.” There was a quiver of magic in that, as well, as if the winikin had already made a new promise to their leader.

  Nodding, Sven clasped Sebastian’s hand in his.

  The punch of power that rocketed through him nearly blew his damn head off his shoulders.

  “Holy shit,” he managed to gasp as the united might of the winikin roared inside him, immense and powerful and seeming to be searching for something. Searching, searching…“Holy, holy shit.”

  “Can you do it?” Sebastian grated, his voice seeming to come from very far away.

  Sven nodded. “We’ll get her back. I promise.” The vow made a bigger ripple, augmented this time by the power of the winikin and everything that was inside his heart as the blood-link wove together, gaining strength and becoming something real and whole. And, riding the wave, Sven opened himself to the winikin, to the magic… and to Cara.

  The response wasn’t anything he expected.

  A sudden wind whipped up inside the cavern and lightning lashed down and hit the domed shield, scattering along it like a science museum exhibit gone badly wrong. The camazotz screeched and charged, hammering into the shield and making it groan beneath the force of their attack. But suddenly it didn’t look like they were trying to break the shield so much as get inside it. Their eyes were wild, their wing beats frantic.

  “Shit!” Sven tried to pull the power back in, rein it tight, but it was out of control, whiplashing through him and up into the storm.

  Overhead, near where the fallen-through spot let in the light, a huge cloud gathered, overlapping the rocky ceiling of the cavern, somehow existing both on this plane and another. Lightning struck the dome again, frying a bat demon with a huge and meaty bug-zapper noise. It shrieked, fell to the ground, and lay smoking.

  Thunder rolled in the air, making the ground tremble.

  “Sven, no!” Dez shouted, lunging up and breaking the blood-link to wave him down. “Stop! You’re calling the hellhound!”

  “I can’t stop it!” Whatever chain reaction was happening had reached critical mass. Magic flowed from the winikin into him, from him to Cara, and then back up again in a feedback loop that filled him up, made him invincible, and terrified him all at once.

  Searching, searching… He didn’t know what the magic was looking for, only that it was very near. It had two legs, four, wings, fins, a crocodilian tail.… Searching… The sable coyote’s head whipped up and she gave a joyous bark. Found!

  The magic snapped out of him, cut dead, and if he hadn’t already been on his knees, he would have fallen. He sagged.

  Cara shuddered in his arms and her eyes flew open and locked on his.

  Relief hammered through him, though there was fear too. Fear that she wouldn’t be willing to give him one final chance. “I’m sorry.” He caught her against him, held her tight. “Jesus, gods, I’m sorry.”

  She avoided his eyes. “What’s happening?”

  Stomach sinking, he answered, “I don’t know anymore. I thought I did, but—”

  Thunder barked and lightning speared from the storm cloud, arrowing through a ragged hole in the sagging shield-stone spell and whipping toward them.

  “Move!” Sven called a quick shield that flared to life strong and sure, shocking him even as he hooked an arm around Cara’s waist and dragged her aside. Mac lunged after them, leaving the sable coyote behind. She froze there, splay legged and wide-eyed.

  And the lightning hit her squarely, as if she had been the target all along.

  “No!” he shouted, heart shuddering at the horrible howl and the smell of burning hair. But when the flash cleared, she stood there unscathed, eyes bright and alert, and locked on Cara. The female didn’t even look like she’d been singed; she seemed totally unharmed.

  “What is she?” Cara asked, voice hushed.

  “I thought… Oh, shit!” The female’s body blurred and stretched without warning, expanding, enlarging, growing until the sable coyote—or demon?—was the size of a horse, stiff ruffed and vicious-looking, with coal red eyes that fixed immediately on Cara, suddenly all too familiar.

  The hellhound had arrived in the flesh. And this time it wasn’t letting her get away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Come on,” Sven yelled, dragging at Cara’s arm. “Fall back. I can shield us!”

  Heart pounding, she turned to run. “Go!”

  No! The nahwal’s voice cut through her panic and confusion. Join now or all is lost!

  And she stopped dead. “Oh, gods.”

  Sven spun back. “Here? Now?”

  But Cara got it. She freaking got it.

  They had been right about some things, wrong about others. And they’d been very wrong about the two of them. “It’s not talking about us joining,” she said softly. “The signs have been pointing toward this guy all along.” She indicated the hellhound, which was crouched with its head low, its hackles raised, and its huge teeth bared. “He’s not the enemy. He’s tried to reach me whenever I’ve been deeply linked to the magic through you.”

  Sven shook his head, but there was a look of dawning wonder on his face. “He’s a she, and she’s the one who’s been sending me the visions. She’s been looking for you.” His voice quieted. “I thought she was your familiar.”

  Cara caught her breath. My familiar. Gods. And in that instant, she yearned… and then she let it go, because the creature facing her was nobody’s familiar. “No. I think she’s the key to the resurrection spell. Her and the winikin together.”

  That was what the signs had meant. Not that she and Sven were destined.

  He took a step toward her. “Cara—”

  Shouts interrupted, coming from the shield. The Nightkeepers were breaking the spell and rallying with the winikin as more camazotz poured from the tunnel. They were going to need help, though.

  Cara held out her hand to Sve
n. “I need to borrow your magic. It’s working now, isn’t it?”

  He avoided her eyes. “Yeah. Good as new.”

  That shouldn’t have pinched, but did. She accepted the pain, though, just as she accepted the terror that took root and grew as they approached the hellhound. Mac stalked at her side, bristling, though she didn’t know whether that was coming from his instincts or Sven’s thoughts. Maybe both, because the creature was monstrous up close, fierce and fanged, and smelled faintly of burned hair and ozone.

  The storm had gone quiet, but the clouds remained. Now, as the hellhound’s growl notched up, thunder grumbled beneath their boots.

  “Don’t be rude,” Cara said in a reproving voice. “You came looking for me, remember?”

  Lightning flickered and the air grew heavy and storm-charged.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dez say something to Strike, who shook his head. When Anna did the same, her stomach clenched. The Nightkeepers were exhausted, the shield failing, the teleporters possibly too spent to evacuate.

  So when the beast shifted, looking ready to charge, she pulled her combat knife, opened the slashes on both her palms, and held out a hand to Sven. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  He hesitated. “Cara, I—”

  “Not now,” she interrupted. Because if he gave her one more empty apology right now, she was afraid she would be the one to block him, not the other way around. “Tell me after.”

  He said nothing more, but nodded and took her hand, and when the blood-link formed, it carried with it a huge upwelling of warmth and support. She nearly staggered from the impact of it, the aching sweetness of feeling magic coming through the bond once more when she had thought it lost forever, and from how much she wanted to send the same back to him. But the difference was that while she would mean it wholeheartedly, his would last only as long as it was convenient.