Lord of the Drach

by Patti Larsen

  I’m sure that went over well. Considering everyone else in the world seemed capable of convincing my husband to do things while I ran into a brick wall over and over again, I couldn’t help but feel insulted.

  “Drugs,” Iosif said, nodding abruptly. “They’ve drugged her heavily.”

  “That’s how it seemed,” Sage said. “Though I felt sorcery, Syd.”

  How? “They have a sorcerer?” Well, they’d had dealings with the Black Souls for years, the werewolf creating sect of sorcerers who started the mess in the first place by exposing their creations to normals. But the Black Souls had been careful, at least according to Charlotte. They’d kept the identities and powers of the werenation and their own abilities on a need to know basis. And, with the lack of morals they’d exhibited, I had no doubt they’d think nothing of fully wiping anyone’s mind who got in their way. Though witches were known for the same tactics, we were, at least, gentle. I had no illusions about the Black Souls doing the same.

  “Could it be the Brotherhood?” I wouldn’t put it past Belaisle to associate with the mafia, though as their boss, not as a partner of any kind. And he was far too careful to expose his people to such a disaster waiting to happen.

  Sage shook his head, frowning. “Could be,” he said, “but I doubt it. Whoever it was didn’t feel strong. Just sneaky. Wily.” He shrugged. “I did my best, but I’m no sorcerer.”

  “You did awesome.” I turned to Mom. “I’ll be right back. Don’t hold dinner.”

  Quaid was faster, grabbing my arm, restraining me physically. I was so shocked by the move I stared down at his hand for a long moment while he spoke.

  “You’re not going alone,” he said, voice a low growl.

  “Like hell I’m not.” I felt a surge of anger surface despite my attempt to remain calm, rational. “I have the best chance of getting in and getting her out and we all know it.”

  “You need backup.” Okay, since when did Charlotte take Quaid’s side? Oh, yeah. Since she used to be my bodywere.

  Syd. Mom’s mind held mine as surely as Quaid’s hand gripped my arm. We need this. She paused. He needs this. If you can’t see that, then go. We’ll be here waiting when you get back.

  Damn it.

  “Fine,” I said. “Small force goes in. Me.” I pointed at Charlotte. “The werequeen.” I turned to my husband. “Quaid, if he behaves himself.” I turned to Mom. “And the Enforcers hold back until we have Femke. Then, get in there and clean out the nest.”

  “There are a few more people who should join that list,” Mom said, even as a black tunnel formed and faces I adored appeared. I sighed, shrugged, as Piers waved, Gram and Demetrius beside him. No sign of Zoe but I didn’t expect her, not really.

  Fate had her own job to do, I imagine.

  I know Sass wanted to come, quivered with the need to take human form. But, before he could open his mouth, while Mom spoke to Piers and the others, I sent a quick, private message to the cat.

  Not this time. I felt his disappointment, absorbed it. I need you here, with the kids. I know, it sucks. I stroked his magic with mine. But knowing Spaft and Sonja are here…

  I’ll stay. He hugged me with his power, no longer pouting. I’ve had enough adventure for one day.

  Liar. I hugged him back. I’ll keep you posted.

  You’d better. He let me go, crossing to the couch, to perch in Gabriel’s lap, amber eyes watching me.

  “Okay,” I broke up the discussion, rubbing my hands together. “Enough talk. More action.”

  Quaid nodded, agreeing with me for once. “I’ll stay in constant communication,” he said to Mom as he joined me, Charlotte at my left. She grabbed Iosif, jerked him toward her as he tried to back away. Sage laughed, patting the little man on the shoulder while Piers and my grandmother flanked us. Demetrius stepped behind, taking up a defensive position.

  As ready as we were going to be, I dove into the image Sage offered and jerked open the veil, reaching for Femke with everything I had in me. And stepped through.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  I expected a fight from the moment we walked through the veil, prepped for battle with a sorcerer unknown. Was shocked when, instead of the interior of a large, hideously decorated and vaulted room Sage pictured for me, we instead appeared on the rocky shore of what looked like an island.

  He seemed as confused as I was, shrugging. “The boat landing is there,” he said, pointing off to the right, down a cobbled path toward a copse of softwood trees swaying in a brusque wind. Water lapped against the shore behind us, the smell of salt and decaying seaweed strong in the air. “The palace is there.” Up the road. I hated walking.

  “Everyone hang on.” I tried again, jerking and tugging at the veil. It tried to obey me, to deliver me to the gaudy “throne room” with its black marble floor flecked with gold and giant statues of naked women, garish chandelier blazing light over a space better suited to dimness. It was daylight here, the seemingly endless night long over in this part of the world. Closer to Hong Kong time than Wilding Springs. Russia, somewhere on the North Pacific Ocean if the veil was telling me correctly. All that I knew. Could grasp and understand. But when I tried to use it to my advantage, to manipulate the veil as I always did, something teased it out of my touch, the black feeling of sorcery proving to me, as Sage had suggested, a sorcerer worked for the powers that be in this place.

  Snarling as the foreign magic dropped us inside the ocean this time, the hint of a mad cackle echoing in the power, I slammed my full weight of magic into the veil and jerked it open, shedding salt water before anyone could get wet. Whoever it was that led me astray fled from the force of my power, but I could feel him—definitely a him—lurking as I finally punched our way through into the center of the beast.

  The gaudy room at last. Bullets ricocheted from the surface of my shields or were devoured by gouts of black magic from the sorcerers while Quaid’s blue Enforcer fire made short work of the weapons firing at us. All in all, a great team, actually. Sage and Charlotte held back, Iosif between them, while I searched the faces before me for the one I sought.

  There. Charlotte’s mind, in touch with mine, pointed out the leader of this human pack. Nickolay Vetrov sat behind the line of his heavily armed men, on a dais—why did they always feel the need to have a throne, for pity’s sake?—a deep frown pulling his brows together, bushy black beard and heavy, thick hair making him look more animal than human.

  Probably fitting, considering the half-naked pair of pubescent girls lying across his lap, both of them so glaze eyed they had to be stoned.

  My protective mothering instinct flared to life, the girl on the left looking enough like my own Ethie would at her age rage broke my hold over good sense. I pushed past the others, ignoring the remainder of mundane weapons aimed at me, knowing my power would keep me safe and that my advance would make me a target, protecting in turn the ones I cared about.

  “Konstantin!” The leader’s sharp command came out as a man’s name instead of an order. Vetrov grinned at me, one of his front teeth shining with gold plating. “Now try to harm me,” he said.

  More sorcery. So, his pet was hiding in the room was he? Likely the very sorcerer who laid me low the night Femke was taken, her secretary left for dead. I prodded, felt the power slip from my grasp, tried again. Not that it mattered. If I wanted this Konstantin dead, he’d be cold before he hit the floor. And, the way things were looking for Femke, I wasn’t holding out much hope.

  Damn it, I couldn’t think that way yet.

  I felt the surge of power outside, knew the Enforcers had arrived. “I don’t know what he’s told you,” I said, going for dry and sardonic, maybe hitting pissed off enough to murder, “but he’s no match for what we’ve brought to your door.” Something exploded outdoors, the ground shaking, and for the first time Vetrov appeared shaken and not so sure of himself.

  “Konstantin!”

  “Was that panic?” I brushed aside the physic
al attack of one of his men, hurtling the bodyguard twenty feet across the room with a jerk of my hand. Now Vetrov and I had an understanding, the dawning fear in his eyes comprehension he’d bit off way more than he would ever get the chance to chew and swallow. Past his broken neck. “I’d be panicking right about now if I were you.” Another deep, echoing thud, this time cracking one of the stone walls. What was it with creeps in power and palaces? It really was getting tired. “The cavalry is here,” I said, grinning. “But I don’t need them. All I need is you.” I pushed the remainder of his men away, tumbling them like dominoes across the polished marble floor. Even the two drugged girls seemed suddenly more aware, their terror raising meeps of fear from them as they hovered in his lap. “And me.”

  Someone lurched from the side, hurtling a tall, lean body forward. Femke landed in Vetrov’s lap, the girls pushed to the ground, a gun in his hand held to the council leader’s temple. A scrawny, filthy creature hovered behind the mafia leader’s throne chair, staring at me with soulless black eyes, his power a dark cloud around him.

  And, in that moment, I knew two things. One, he was nowhere near strong enough to stop me, to stand in my way. But he had just enough power wound around Femke if I tried to hurt him, stop him, kill Vetrov, do anything, my Swedish friend was dead.

  Son of a—

  Vetrov must have sensed the impasse, his face contorting from terror to calculation. As his eyes darted around the room, he spoke in heavily accented English.

  “You want her?” He jabbed Femke in the temple with his gun. She groaned, eyes turning up into the back of her head. Drugged, absolutely. But every time I tried to slip my power toward her, to help her, the sorcerer behind the chair blocked me, threatened her.

  Damn it.

  “Hand her over.” As if commanding him would be that easy. He laughed at me, waved at me with the gun before casually jabbing it into Femke’s head again.

  “I think my black magic strong enough, da?” Smug asshole. We’d see about that.

  “You should have killed me when you had the chance.” Like they ever would have succeeded. No way was I giving ground, regardless. His men were down. I could feel the rest of my friends behind me, focused on Femke. Maybe if all of us worked together.

  He’s slippery, Gram sent. Give us a minute.

  Stall for time, gotcha.

  Vetrov did it for me, snarling. “They tried,” he said, guttural accent grinding.

  “We tried so hard.” This time it was the sorcerer who spoke. Konstantin giggled, peeking out behind his master’s chair. Surely they didn’t think they could escape? And yet, a tunnel and a run for it would be all it would take. I couldn’t give them that out. Slowly, allowing the white sorcery under my control to take the lead, I let my power out and down, under the ground, under the throne. Surrounding the pair who held my friend in their control. The sorcerer seemed oblivious, at least for now. Long enough, I hoped, for me to form a bubble around him, to prevent his exodus.

  Black Soul, my vampire whispered.

  I felt what she felt as we encircled him. He must have run to his old allies for protection when I’d freed the werenation and taken the Czar down. And ended up a slave for his trouble.

  “You failed, in case you missed it.” I prodded Konstantin openly, to keep him occupied, while the mental chatter of my friends in the background told me they were struggling to get past him. Wily old bastard. “Black Soul.”

  He wailed at my guess, making me right. “All gone,” he said. “All gone now.”

  “That would be my doing.” I grinned openly. “You’re welcome.”

  He snarled but didn’t attack while his master grew impatient. He said something in Russian. I didn’t need a translation. Charlotte offered one anyway.

  He told the sorcerer to get them out of here, she sent.

  Like to see him try.

  He did, grinning foolishly with an edge of madness. And gaped at me when he felt what held him back. In fact, as his dark sorcery traced around the edges of my white power, he stepped out from the safety of his master’s chair and stared at me, something akin to adoration lighting his face.

  “Doombringer,” he said.

  Vetrov glared at him, kicking him with one heavy boot. The sorcerer ducked back again, but when his eyes met mine he had a cunning expression I hoped I could use.

  “You were saying?” The mafia leader had returned to anxious, the gun tight in his hand, Femke’s arm white where he held her. She moaned again, head lolling forward. “About trying to kill me?” They’d killed Xue, Femke’s aide, the night they kidnapped her. Hit me so hard with power I passed out—all of me. Usually one of us remained awake and aware. But whatever hit us took out me, my vampire, demon and Shaylee.

  “You almost killed us,” Konstantin said, awe now in his voice. “Some kind of auto- shielding.” He hummed softly to himself. “And now I know, Doombringer. Now I understand.”

  I wished I did. But needed to talk to the little beast. Which meant I couldn’t kill him. Because Belaisle—Dark Brother—used that name for me. And I had to know what it meant.

  I had no idea. My vampire sounded bemused. How fascinating.

  It kept us alive, my demon sent. Good enough for me.

  Doesn’t anything interest you? Shaylee’s huff was rather ill timed.

  Staying alive, my demon sent as though ticking off points. Saving my friends, rescuing Femke—

  Oh, never mind, Shaylee shot back. Now what?

  Turned out I wasn’t the only one who wanted to talk.

  Doombringer, Konstantin’s mind met mine in a tiny thread I almost rejected, the sewer of his thoughts filthy with rot and old hate. I will give you what you want. If you take me with you when you go.

  I hesitated. How do I know you won’t betray me?

  He cackled in my head, though his bright eyes didn’t falter. You are the Doombringer, he sent. I will follow you to the ends of the Universe. He laughed again. And I shall. I shall. We all will, when the time comes.

  Riddles and crazy people. What the hell was wrong with my life I was always burdened with riddles and crazy people?

  Done, I sent, signing a pact with a devil.

  A heartbeat later his magic was gone, sorcery falling, leaving Vetrov exposed. Wide open. He must have sensed the change, his finger closing on the trigger, eyes huge and staring, full of the fear of death but willing to die and take her with him—

  I snapped. There’s no other way to explain it. Not when I suddenly saw red, quite literally, as though my vision were painted with blood, the ground beneath me surging in a giant rush. It knocked over his throne, sending him tumbling, a single shot ringing out, wide and missing Femke by more than enough.

  But it didn’t matter, not to the rage and frustration, not when faced with this normal who turned the barrel on me, who fired and fired as he screamed and I approached with slow and steady murderous intent, over the fallen, weeping form of my friend who clutched at my legs, finally coming to.

  Not the sound of Quaid’s voice calling my name, or Charlotte’s mind battering against mine, Gram’s need to reach me. None of it.

  Not. One. Scrap.

  Not until I bent over Nickolay Vetrov, the animal, and reached inside his chest with my power, squeezing his heart. Squeezing it until it popped and burst, blood surging from his nose, from his lips as I crushed his life in my magic and watched him die.

  Feeling. Nothing.

  I stepped back at last, the roaring in my ears retreating, red fading from my vision. The girls were screaming at me but it was too late. He was dead. Why hadn’t I heard them?

  Why didn’t I care I’d killed him?

  I turned slowly, met Konstantin’s eyes as he peered up at me from where he crouched next to Femke.

  “Mistress Doombringer,” he said with great reverence before gasping a final breath, hands falling away from the bullet wound in his chest. Blood spread out beneath him, the stray meant for Femke taking his life, taking his power.
r />   And taking my answers.

  ***

  Chapter Thirty

  The living room in Mom’s suite in Hong Kong was quiet, the air cool. I stood at the giant bank of windows, looking out over the bustling city from so far above, feeling detached.

  Yes, that was the word. Detached. From what I’d done, the death of the normal. And though a part of me—the girls, mostly—thought I should feel something, I just couldn’t muster it.

  I’d broken the law. No witch was supposed to use magic against a normal. But these were unusual circumstances and I… didn’t care if they wanted to arrest me. They could try.

  He’d drugged and threatened Femke. A normal found a way to trap one of the most powerful witches in the world. The animal treated her like trash and tried to kill her.

  No regrets. Nickolay Vetrov deserved what he got. My only regret was the death of Konstantin the Black Soul sorcerer. Not that I thought he deserved to live, the disgusting creature. But because he knew things I needed to uncover.

  Cold? Hell yeah.

  While we understand your logic and agree, my vampire sighed at last, it is your lack of feeling that worries us, not the deed itself.

  Syd, you scared the crap out of me. My demon sounded subdued, so odd for her. It was like we had no control, that you were someone else.

  The white power, Shaylee whispered. Didn’t you all feel it?

  The what? I reached down into my sorcery, felt the cool, calm of the purified sorcery. That’s crazy. No threat, just there, humming softly to itself. Minding its own damned business like maybe the girls should have been. Meira never mentioned anything like this happening to her. So they were clearly imagining things.

  Not one of the three said a word in response. That was more troubling than the death I’d caused.

  Nope, still wasn’t sorry.

  I turned and crossed to the couch where Gabriel and Ethie sat petting the drach ribbons. They seemed perfectly content to accept the ministrations of my children, far less energetic puppies and more happy cats. Which was fine with me. Their usual enthusiasm always gave me a headache.