Ardith grinned. “Icy!”
The Watcher turned to her and frowned. “Definitely not icy, witch.”
Ardith’s grin didn’t waver.
The gnome studied her for a moment, apparently trying to figure out if she mocked him, and then turned back to the glossy, fire-colored form hovering over the pit. “What is your current location, Edana witch?”
The figure wavered, softened and then sharpened again. The face twitched and it took Ardith a beat to realize its lips were moving. “I am in La Cité des Muertas.”
Ardith groaned.
Draigh grinned. “Well, witch, it looks like we’re going to the City of Death.”
“Well, just shit.”
* * * * *
Ardith tucked her filthy shirt into her pants and covered it with the leather jacket. Draigh had refused to let her go back by her place and change again. She felt grimy and her clothes stank. The only thing that made her feel any better at all was the reality that, given their current location, there was a really good chance she was going to get splattered with blood and gore any minute anyway.
Named by a Spanish diplomat in the days after the first nuclear strike, La Cité des Muertas used to be a large city on the west coast of the land mass called the United States of America. It was ground zero for the nuclear war that had razed the entire country.
Though most of the radiation had dispersed over time, nothing even remotely human lived in the city any longer. And nothing even vaguely monstrous avoided it. Including the wide variety of monsters that had happened as a result of radiation poisoning.
Any humans who’d survived the radiation had been altered beyond recognition by the poisoned air, and most of the wild animals were transformed. That didn’t even include the magical monsters who, sensing an opportunity to build their own little monster paradise in the world, had flocked to La Cité des Muertas after the bombing.
The inhabitants of the city recognized no governing bodies. No rules, no moral restrictions and no sense of self-control guided them. Without any sort of police presence, it was pure anarchy.
Anarchy among monsters was not a pretty thing.
Aside from Edana, who was surrounded by her own army of monsters, Ardith and Draigh were most likely the only humanoid creatures in the entire city. They were weaker, less biologically equipped for battle and less psychologically equipped to deal with what they were going to see there. To the creatures living in the dead city, they were considered a subspecies—little more than meals with heels.
Fun times.
The buildings over the largest part of the city were mostly rubble. Here and there, a single-story building was still standing and the debris had been cleared away from the front so that whatever lived inside the space could move around more easily.
The roads were impassible, with huge chunks of asphalt missing and the remainder split and upended from the earthquakes that had followed the bombs.
The stench of death was nearly overwhelming.
Carcasses littered the streets and spilled from some type of narrow, three-wheeled vehicles that had obviously been engineered to maneuver through the shattered streets and sidewalks.
Draigh reached over and grabbed her arm, halting her as the shadows ahead of them shifted and spit several malformed shapes onto the sidewalk.
Even in the low light of the only unbroken street light a half block away, it was easy to see that the creatures stalking toward them were unlike anything they’d ever seen before.
Built like gargoyles, with oversized heads and canine teeth like tusks, the creatures were hairless, shiny with some kind of oily substance, and left bubbling trails of drool behind as they moved toward Draigh and Ardith.
Enormous claws clanked against the concrete of a broken sidewalk and an impossible girth of muscles bunched when they walked. Their foreheads looked swollen with no gleam where the eyes should have been. The creatures’ wet snouts moved constantly, their large pointed ears twitched, but they had no eyes to see with.
Ardith grimaced. “What are those things?”
“If I’m not mistaken, they used to be hell hounds. Before they were irradiated.”
There were three of them and as they approached they spread out, obviously hoping to surround Ardith and Draigh.
Draigh pulled his knives. “This will be a quick kill.”
Ardith frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because if we don’t kill them right away, we’re dead. If they bite us, we’re dead. If they scratch us, we’re dead.”
Ardith lifted her hands, calling her magic forward. “I’ll just zap them with witch fire then.”
He shook his head, turning to press his back against hers. They seemed to spend a lot of time that way. “Nay. They’re formed from radioactive waste. A little magic fire will just piss them off.”
The three hounds had positioned themselves equidistant around Draigh and Ardith, looking as if they’d used the maneuver before. Their eerie, eyeless faces were pointed toward the two mages as if they could see and their nostrils flared and pinched constantly, scenting their prey.
“Okay, drama queen. Then how do we kill these things?”
Draigh sighed, handing her a knife. “The old-fashioned way. One slice across the neck, removing their heads. And don’t get any of their blood on you.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re like acid rain on a picnic, hunter?”
“Not this week, witch.”
The hounds’ huge heads jerked upward as they snarled, spraying potentially deadly spittle across the ground where they stood. A nearly constant growl throbbed in their wide, leathery chests and their massive claws flexed against the hard ground as if they anticipated ripping Draigh and Ardith into tiny pieces. Despite the noisy posturing, however, they didn’t seem eager to advance.
Ardith held the knife in one hand, her fingers damp against its leather-wrapped hilt. “What are they waiting for?”
“I don’t know.” Draigh’s voice rumbled against her back, reassuring despite their precarious position.
Finally, the biggest hound threw back its head and snarled, then leapt. The massive creature covered the distance between them in two powerful bounds, its claws stretched before it.
Draigh yelled, “Paws!” and Ardith swung her knife and removed one paw just as Draigh lifted his knife and sliced sideways, neatly severing the creature’s head.
She heard the thunderous approach of the other two and spun, realizing she wouldn’t have time to get her knife up before the first one slammed into them. Instead she rolled, landing on her back, and shoved upward with her feet as the monster flew over her. The creature yelled from the power-infused kick and met Draigh’s knife in mid-air.
Ardith was already on her feet. But it was too late.
The third hound was on Draigh, its huge maw open and heading for his throat. He couldn’t complete the arc of his swing in time to slice off its head. Ardith’s hand came up and she pulsed a massive wave of power into the hound’s head. The beast should have exploded from the amount of power she’d infused it with but didn’t.
Fortunately though, the wash of power sent the creature sideways, away from Draigh, and it hit the ground a few feet away, bouncing hard on the torn asphalt before skidding away. Draigh leapt over a bulging rip in the asphalt and sliced downward, completing the job she’d started.
Ardith’s knees buckled. That had been close. Too damn close. “Well that was too cl—”
Draigh sagged downward, hitting the road hard on his knees.
Ardith ran for him, catching his head before it cracked the road too. “What’s wrong?”
But she saw the problem all too soon. His arm had a long scratch on it, and the flesh was bubbling, oozing black rot before her eyes. He was already convulsing. “Shit.”
Ardith did the only thing she could. She lifted her eyes to the clouds and yelled, “Sirius.”
The sky over her head sparkled, the clouds spinning and re-forming until they were shaped like
a giant, silver hound. Light exploded overhead and something that looked like a meteor shot toward her from the center of the explosion.
It hit the ground nearby with the force of a meteor, ripping the already mangled surface and sending rocky debris skyward. As usual, Sirius made sure his powerful arrival didn’t harm her, taking care to throw protective magics over her as he landed.
The hound approached quickly, his keen silver gaze sliding immediately to the source of her concern. “Help him, old friend.”
Terror throbbed in her breath as she watched the black rot spread through Draigh’s enormous forearm and upward, heading toward his shoulder and more vital parts of his anatomy. Her breath locked in her lungs and her heart pounded against her ribs.
She was terrified for the big hunter. Ardith didn’t examine the source of her fear too closely.
Sirius lowered himself down beside Draigh with a whine, his beautiful gaze lifting a question to Ardith.
She nodded impatiently. “Yes. I’m sure.”
Asking Sirius to heal another was a gift of immense proportion. Ardith paid a price for each healing her familiar performed. And Ardith didn’t use the gifts lightly. Not even for herself.
The larger the healing gift, the higher the price.
As Draigh’s huge, warrior’s body succumbed to massive shuddering, his handsome face turned gray. Ardith knew the price for this gift would be very high indeed.
“Do it.”
Sirius lowered his head and sniffed the wound, growling low in his throat, and began to lick it. As his tongue touched the blackened flesh, sparks, like tiny silver stars, flew upward, and Draigh jerked as if in pain.
Ardith knew there would be exquisite pain from Sirius’ healing magics. His power was forged millennia ago and carried with it all the energy of the ages. The force of his magic didn’t just ride the surface of the body it infused, it gathered in the cells and ripped them apart before reassembling them in a stronger fashion, even stronger than before they’d been harmed.
It was the reason Sirius was such a coveted and valued familiar. It was the thing that made Ardith such a powerful witch.
Slowly, Draigh stopped shuddering and his flesh began to return to its healthy, golden color. A moment later the wound healed, leaving behind only a narrow pink line as a remembrance of the wound.
Another day or so would be the end of even that.
Sirius sat back on his haunches and wagged his tail, his silver gaze sparking with his new secret.
Ardith frowned. “Don’t read anything into it, star mutt.”
Sirius barked. His tail thumped against the broken street.
Draigh’s eyes fluttered open and he started to sit up. He groaned and fell back, sweat popping out on his wide brow.
“Just rest for a minute. Sirius’ mojo does a number on the body.”
Ardith swallowed her own groan as she pushed to her feet. She wobbled a moment, stars bursting before her eyes. Sirius moved to stand beside her, leaning gently against her leg as her hand reached down, dug into his fur and used him as an anchor.
“Are you ill, witch?”
Her eyes popped open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. Draigh stood before her, looking concerned. “No. Just tired.”
He blinked down at Sirius. “Thank you for your aid. I am eternally in your debt.”
Sirius glared at him, his silver eyes flashing with accusation, and Draigh blinked again. But before he could ask, Ardith started forward. “Let’s go find that bitch.”
Ardith wasn’t sure what she would do with the evil bitch once she found her. She was as weak as a kitten from the hunter’s healing. But she forced one foot in front of the other, trying not to sway. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask any more questions. The last thing she wanted to do was tell him why she was so weak.
It wouldn’t do to have him reading anything into the gesture she’d made in saving him.
Chapter Six
Irradiated Rascals
It seemed pretty obvious that the rogue witch was nearby. They had to kill several zombies on the street and a handful more as they entered the scarred and broken building the nasties had spilled from.
Draigh kept a close eye on the witch. She didn’t seem herself at all. She’d almost allowed one of the zombies to get the best of her. If it weren’t for her hound she’d have been killed. He slashed his knives through the dense, spongy neck of the final zombie and turned to her, grabbing her arm as she swayed on her feet.
Her pretty face was much paler than it should have been and dark circles underscored her haunting gaze. He couldn’t help noting the fine tremor running through her body before she yanked her arm away.
“She must be through those doors.” Ardith started across the darkened room, her usual sexy, swaying gait stiff and hesitant. She walked as if her very bones hurt.
Draigh followed, his knives drawn. He didn’t like her weakness. It was affecting him on a much deeper level than it should. It wasn’t that he thought she would let him down if it came to a battle, though he knew she probably would, it was worse than that. He was afraid for her. He was afraid she would get hurt.
The woman annoyed him too much to get under his skin. So why did he care?
Ardith reached the distant door and stood, her hands splayed against its surface as she used her powers to discern what lay behind it. A low rumbling had begun to vibrate against his senses from the moment they’d entered the room. He hadn’t taken conscious note of it before that moment, but as the witch stood before the door the rumbling increased.
Across the room a chunk of glass, probably from an old light that had stopped working long ago, rattled and fell to the floor, crashing into a thousand glistening shards as it landed.
Ardith barely noted the crash. She seemed intent on her assessment of the room beyond the door. Beside him Sirius whined, his eerie silver eyes flashing from Ardith to Draigh. The star pup took off for Ardith just as a picture of an explosion formed in Draigh’s mind. Draigh’s gaze flew toward the witch. “Ardith, get ba—”
The door blasted outward, throwing the witch ten feet back, into his arms, and sending them skittering across the floor in a tangle of limbs.
Smoke billowed through the room, clogging their noses and sending them into fits of violent coughing. The smoke carried with it the stench of dark magic. Edana had set a magical trap and they’d walked right into it.
Ardith shoved weakly at his arms and he realized he was still wrapped tightly around her. Draigh loosened his hold but didn’t release her. “What is it with you and doors, witch? It seems you are forever being attacked by them.”
“Shut up. Let go of me, hunter.”
He ignored her demands. His instincts screaming at him. The clogging smoke was thick, so thick it was nearly solid. It pressed down on them like lead, seriously debilitating and invasive. But it was worse than congestive. It felt as if it was an entity all its own.
“Hold, witch. There’s something living in this smoke.” Even as he said the words Draigh saw a shape darkening in the midst of the smoke across the room that told him something was coming for them. It was impossible to tell how far away the thing was. The smoke was disorienting at best and served to cloak whatever stalked them at worst.
Something bumped his shoulder and his knife flashed upward.
A soft hand on his arm stopped him before he sliced the knife across Sirius’ elegant throat. “Stand down, hunter,” Ardith warned in a husky whisper. “And let go of me. Sirius will lead us out.”
Draigh was strangely reluctant to release the witch. Despite their dire circumstances she felt good snugged up against him. As soon as his arms dropped, she rolled away and got her feet under her. But she didn’t straighten. She remained in a crouched position, her hands up in a defensive posture.
He followed her lead, knives drawn.
Draigh hoped the star pup knew where he was going. If it weren’t for the choking stench, he would have thought they moved among the clouds. E
verything in the physical world slipped away under a blanket of charcoal gray. No sounds penetrated, save the thick rasp of his own breath, and there were no visual cues to help him get oriented. There was only the stench and the faint outline of Ardith moving just inches away.
He focused on her perfect behind, determined not to lose her in the magic smog. He somehow knew that, if he did, he risked never finding her again. So his gaze held the delicious sight before him with such fervor that his vision blurred and he started to see two of her.
He blinked hard, realizing there was something in the smoke that was starting to disorient him. He had to tell Ardith. He reached for her.
A snarl suddenly penetrated the thick smog and something with the force of a train slammed into him, sending him skidding sideways.
Bright pain sliced across his back as he skidded across broken glass and a huge set of startlingly white teeth descended toward his throat. Draigh barely got a hand up to stop it before the teeth snapped. His hand closed over the thing’s throat, muscles screaming from the weight as the monster pressed downward, trying to eat his face.
Vampire.
A terrifying orange gaze glowed down at him, the eyes mad with blood lust. There wasn’t much else behind the gaze. No intelligence burned there. No sense of purpose beyond the need to kill and feed.
Spittle sprayed his face and he instinctively jerked away from it, relieved to find it didn’t burn his skin.
Claws raked his side as the jaws continued to snap and Draigh screamed from the numbing pain. His hand came up to pound against the vampire and his knife sliced through spongy tissue. He’d forgotten he held the knife.
In desperation, as the snapping jaws pushed downward, now only inches from his face, Draigh jerked his hand upward, tearing a gooey path through the spongy flesh. Warm, thick liquid flowed over his hand but the creature barely seemed to notice. The huge teeth continued to snap and claws shredded his sides.
Draigh knew he had to destroy the thing’s heart. It was the only way to kill a vampire. Especially one that seemed to have lost all coherent thought.
He pulled the knife from the creature’s dead belly and tried to reach its chest, but its stringy arms were in the way, keeping his hand from lifting.
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