4.0 - Howl Of The Fettered Wolf

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4.0 - Howl Of The Fettered Wolf Page 23

by Krista Walsh


  For a few seconds he remained dazed, and Vera rolled out from under him and got to her feet, looking for Ara.

  Ara had secured the duffle bag over her shoulder and across her chest to keep her hands free. The Colcex demon had recovered from its stumble and was going after her, but the dryad was darting out of its reach. The demon moved left, but she anticipated it and stepped to the right. When it stepped forward, she spun out of its way to end up behind it, a nimble dance that might have been beautiful if one wrong step didn’t run the risk of her being caught.

  Ara’s deep, slow-to-rise anger had been unleashed, visible in the deep green veins that bubbled under her darkening skin, which had grown rough and lined like bark. Her fingernails, always so short and tidy, had stretched and branched into sharp twigs. Her eyes had grown larger over her cheekbones, their green color lightening into their eerie silver that caught the light and reflected into the room.

  Vera hadn’t seen that side of Ara since she’d first stepped out of her tree. At the time, she’d found it beautiful, but today it struck a sharp dread in her heart.

  All around the room, the plants Ara had nurtured began to move. Leaves rose high on their stalks, and the stems elongated to fall over the sides of the flower pots. The vines thickened and lengthened as they slithered across the floor toward the demon, covering the floorboards in a carpet of foliage.

  The other human, obviously another warlock, threw a spell in her direction, but Ara slipped away, so his magic hit the Colcex demon in the chest. Black blood spurted from the resulting wound and sprayed over the nearest bookcase. The demon fell to one knee. A moment later it was back on its feet, but a vine had wrapped around its ankle, preventing it from darting forward. The boils on its beet-red skin popped and oozed over its cheeks, and the hardwood steamed wherever drops of its blood landed.

  Vera opened her mouth to shout for Ara to watch for the warlock when Rega tackled her side. She hurtled into a bookcase, and the structure tottered in its bracings but didn’t fall. She threw her elbow backward and caught the demon in the solar plexus. Air whooshed between his lips. He wrapped himself around her chest, trapping her arms between them, and squeezed. She flailed her body to free herself, but his grip was too solid to break through.

  As her lungs compressed, she gave up fighting and raised her feet off the ground, giving Rega her full weight. He shifted to readjust his grip, and in his moment of distraction, she sank her teeth deep into the flesh of his right forearm, clenching hard enough to draw blood. The fingers of his right hand loosened their hold, and she wriggled one arm free, taking hold of his thumb and jerking it back. The rest of his hand followed the force of her pull, but she didn’t stop until the bone snapped.

  He jerked his hand away and she dropped out of his arms, then lodged her fist in the meat of his throat. Rega’s face went red, then purple, and as he clutched at his neck, she moved out of his reach and ran toward the nameless warlock, who had already begun summoning another spell into his palms. She had to protect Ara.

  Ara was still winding her way through the room, flowing between chairs and weaving around blows and any attempts to grab her. She moved like water, impossible to pin down, but by the tremor in her legs, Vera knew she was tiring.

  Ara’s plants had nearly taken over the entire front of the shop. They’d blacked out the window and wrapped around the Colcex demon, keeping it trapped against the side of the couch.

  Another tendril reached for the other warlock, but he stepped over it, his skin glowing with a pale orange aura, ready to launch his spell. Vera didn’t give him the chance to control where it went. She grabbed his arm and thrust it toward the vine-bound Colcex demon.

  Seeing the magic coming its way, the demon screamed and tried to lurch out of the spell’s path, but Ara’s plants held firm, and the second spell caught it in the eye. More blood spurted out, and this time when it fell, it made no effort to get back up. Not even a Colcex demon could survive a hole through the head.

  Vera wound the warlock’s arm backward until it broke, and his shriek drowned out Rega’s wheezing and Humphrey’s heavy breaths. Then she grabbed him by his head and slammed him into the back of the wooden chair. The frame of the chair snapped, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  Humphrey had given up his attack on the Collegiate. He’d turned his attentions to Ara, but his magic would be weak, too much of it wasted against the Collegiate’s shield. Vera counted on him needing at least a few minutes to recharge, which meant Ara would have a moment to breathe.

  A glance at the Collegiate showed them watching the fight with what appeared to be only a faint interest, and Vera realized they would not take on a more direct role unless it became obvious that she was doomed to fail.

  Their passivity sent a fresh wave of anger through Vera’s blood. They’d come to her claiming to offer help, and now they stood there doing nothing? She squeezed her hands into fists. Her chest was heaving with quick and shallow breaths and her heart was pounding an aching rhythm against her ribs. She hoped they had a plan if the tides changed, because at the moment, she didn’t know how much longer she would be able to fight.

  As a thin silver lining, adrenaline had wiped out the discomfort of her previous injuries, and the sight of Rega’s red face only encouraged her to keep moving.

  His eyes widened as she came at him again, flying one hit to his gut that doubled him over and driving an elbow to the back of his bowed head. He staggered backward to avoid her, but she pressed on. A roundhouse kick to the side of his face thrust him into the bookcases, and this time the bracings gave. The shelves toppled backward, one into another, and the entire shop trembled with the weight of the collapse.

  In a moment, he was back on his feet, his eyes a black-and-red swirl of molten rock. His oil-black hair was in disarray, a patch of it missing from his scalp where his head had cracked against the bookshelf. Blood dripped off his chin and his breath still came out as a wheeze after her blow to his throat. But by the curl of his lip and the whiteness of his knuckles as he squeezed his fists, he wasn’t about to let a few bruises stop him.

  Vera braced her feet against the floor. Neither was she. She’d proved to him she could beat him, and while that meant he would be on higher guard against her grabbing the advantage a second time, her confidence soared. The bastard was strong, but she could match him. That’s all she needed to know.

  “You believe you’ll claim the victory,” he rasped, “but it’s only a matter of time before you tire. I can be patient.”

  He was needling her, trying to work his way into her mind to wear her out, but she refused to let him take that power over her. Enough people had played with her thoughts since this whole mess began, and she wasn’t about to let an amateur get in on the fun.

  Although she was sure he hadn’t intended to give her any ideas, his attempt to manipulate her spurred her into a new tactic, and she kicked herself for being too focused on beating him physically to think of it sooner. She’d been so worried about opening her mind to the Collegiate that she’d closed herself off from her greatest strength. But now Fendal and her crew had taken her side, at least for now, which meant she was safe to play with a few minds of her own.

  Instead of offering a reply, Vera simply smiled, enjoying the confusion that furrowed Rega’s brow. She watched as his eyes flashed with realization and then terror as she prodded his visual cortex, dropping a demon of shadow and fire into his mind. It was the same creature that had chased him out of the shop on his first visit, but this time she was going to give it a playmate.

  Rega started toward the door, but stopped when Vera delivered the suggestion of a rising wall of flames licking toward him, blocking his way out. He staggered backward, his boot slipping in a patch of the Colcex demon’s steaming blood. He whipped around toward the back door, then froze when he found a giant cobra in his path. It rose to its full seven-foot height, its fangs dripping venom and its forked tongue darting out to taste the air. It slithered closer and
wrapped itself in a circle around Rega, its head looming over him, trapping him against the fire demon that crept up on his other side.

  Rega dropped to his knees and released a cry so loud that Vera’s ears rang.

  “Make it stop,” he said. “This isn’t real. Get out of my head!”

  Vera allowed his imagination to hold the demons in his mind, then used the moment to slow her breathing and regain her self-control.

  Humphrey had turned his back on Ara and rushed to Rega. He grabbed the Horrigen demon’s arm, but Rega threw him back, likely believing his partner was one more threat closing in on him. The force of his thrust sent Humphrey staggering across the floor into the Collegiate’s shield, and his body spasmed as though a current of electricity had shot through him.

  He fell to the floor, and Vera caught Fendal’s eye. The ancient dropped her chin in the faintest nod, and Vera’s chest loosened.

  She had incapacitated the enemy. The book was safe. She had won.

  When the bell above the door jangled, the opening door tearing through the vines blocking its way, she nearly laughed at the absurdity of having yet another visitor. She braced herself to explain this fantastic tableau to the incoming customer, wishing she’d had a chance to lock the door.

  Her first thought was that this new customer was very tall. He towered over her five foot eight by an easy foot and stood at least twice as wide.

  Her second thought was how strange it was that he should be carrying someone at his side like a piece of luggage.

  Only when her brain took in the luggage’s dark hair, bloody face, and dark sunglasses did the horror set in.

  Gabe.

  18

  The mountain of a man held Gabe by the collar, leaving the Gorgon’s arms hanging slack toward the ground. Gabe’s face was covered in bruises, his lip split and swollen. His legs were dragging across the floor, and the welt on his forehead dripped blood. When he gave no reaction to the goings-on in the shop, Vera feared the worst, but her concentrated attention picked up the slight rise and fall of his chest.

  He was alive, if barely.

  Once she was certain she hadn’t lost him, she pulled her focus to the rest of the room and realized everyone had fallen silent. Humphrey had risen to his feet and was staring at the tall man with a mix of recognition and terror that tightened Vera’s stomach. It was the exact same expression Rega was wearing as he continued to fight off the cobra and the fire demon in his mind.

  More worrisome than Humphrey’s reaction was the Collegiate’s. Fendal had widened her arms in a defensive stance before her two companions. Kurlow’s jaw worked as she swallowed, and sweat dripped down the side of Nadeen’s face. The two of them had reached out to clutch each other’s hands.

  Ara caught Vera’s gaze from across the room, and Vera wished she could tell her to sneak behind the man toward the door and run as fast as she could, but she feared having her get so close to him, especially with the book. She couldn’t risk Ara’s life when she had no idea how the rules of the game had changed with this new player.

  She turned her attention to the man himself, and found herself struggling to build a coherent picture of him. Even staring at him, she had trouble seeing him. He seemed to blur and shift where he stood, a double image one second and solid the next. The longer she stared, the more physically present he became, and the more light-headed she felt. She didn’t know if the wooziness came from exhaustion or if something in his energy was consuming her own, but she wanted nothing more than for him to get out of her shop.

  His dark hair was cut almost to the scalp, and his jaw was clean-shaven. His blue eyes — which remained in focus even as the rest of him blurred — were so sharp and clear they might as well have been cut from diamonds. But his eyes were the only beautiful thing about him. His face was made up more of scar tissue than skin. Deep welts cut into his cheeks, the red and white slashes glinting under the ceiling lights, while older scars puckered his forehead. The tip of his nose was missing, and his top lip was twisted into a permanent grimace.

  The scars continued down his neck and over the area of his chest that was visible above his light blue button-down shirt.

  Somehow, the shirt was what stunned Vera the most. In the wave of black that completed the attire of almost every other person in the shop, his bright clothing made him more terrifying. The others were trying too hard to look tough or scary. This man just was.

  “Lozak,” Humphrey stuttered. For a moment, Vera thought he was about to drop to his knees and start grovelling, but he braced himself against the wall.

  She remembered the comment Rega had made on his previous visit about how he had orders not to kill her. Was this his boss?

  Vera could believe it. Lozak possessed an aura of authority that discouraged contradiction. If he was giving orders, no wonder Rega had been so determined to complete his mission.

  The epiphany didn’t make Vera feel any better about her situation.

  Lozak spared Humphrey a glance, then dropped Gabe to the floor. Gabe gave a soft groan as his knees and the heels of his palms hit the ground, but Vera held herself back from running to him. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she stared at Lozak.

  “I found this creature spying on you last night through his computer,” Lozak said. “He seemed so eager to join the party, but I would have hated for him to take anyone by surprise. Looks like there’s enough tension in here. Someone might have reacted poorly.”

  His deep voice worked its way into her brain, hammering her courage. Unlike Rega, who sounded as though he gargled with gravel as part of his morning routine, Lozak’s voice was as solid as he was. Booming. As though the vibrations of his bass alone could shake loose the rest of her weakened bookcases.

  Last night.

  Vera cringed as the implication of Lozak’s statement sank in. “That’s why he didn’t show up,” she said, speaking aloud before she could stop herself.

  Lozak grinned at her, and the sight turned her blood to ice. “You didn’t honestly think an alarm like that would go unnoticed, did you? Humphrey blocked it, and I followed the trail.” He clapped his hand on Gabe’s shoulder, sending Gabe sprawling across the floor. “We spent a good day together, though he wasn’t a particularly attentive host. He wouldn’t even answer a few simple questions. And he was out of whiskey.”

  When no one laughed at what Vera could only guess was his attempt at a joke, his smile faded. Vera’s dry tongue worked against the roof of her mouth to regain sensation.

  “It’s a shame I needed to show my face here,” he said, “but if you don’t want this man’s head ripped from his body, you will release Rega.” He glanced over his shoulder at Ara. “And you’ll kill the plants.”

  Vera swallowed hard to get the muscles in her throat working again and allowed her gaze to move toward Gabe, who had awakened enough to roll onto his side. She had no idea if his eyes were open behind his sunglasses, but she guessed he hadn’t revived that far yet. When he did, she hoped he would threaten to turn Lozak to stone.

  As it was, he was in no place to defend himself, and something in Lozak’s tone made her believe he wouldn’t hesitate to do what he said if she denied him. Releasing a breath, she closed the mental connection with Rega, and in the corner of her eye, she saw him collapse to the floor. On the other side of the shop, Ara’s plants fell limp, the new extensions withering where they lay.

  Vera didn’t know what to do next. Her heart had nearly raced itself to an early stop, and all of the injuries she’d temporarily forgotten about were now reminding her of their presence. Every joint and muscle ached. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she fought off the desire to break down. She wished the Collegiate would step in and take over. That they would prove they were as knowledgeable and powerful as they claimed to be.

  But a glance at Fendal showed her to be preoccupied with studying Lozak. Vera supposed she should take it as a compliment that they believed her capable of taking care of the situation on her own, but sh
e couldn’t help but feel resentful that they’d let this fall on her shoulders. They’d come here to offer help and inform her she was no longer required for their plans, and yet they were choosing to hide behind her while she cleaned up the mess.

  Anger warmed her from the inside, and she clung to it to maintain her strength.

  Lozak turned to Humphrey, whose lips had turned so white they’d disappeared into his already ghostly pallor.

  “Do you not have two brain cells to rub together?” Lozak asked. “You allow your brothers in arms to fall in battle when you have the ability to prevent the enemy from fighting? Cage them.”

  The reprimand was so scathing that Vera experienced a twinge of pity as Humphrey cringed. He struggled to find enough magic in his blood to bring his power into his palms. As the seconds ticked by, sweat popped out of his pores and dribbled down the sides of his face.

  Vera knew she should use the time to come up with some sort of strategy, some plan of attack. She pictured herself running at Humphrey before he had a chance to obey Lozak’s order, or better yet, engaging Lozak in a fight while he was busy watching Humphrey. Reality, however, pressed her into stillness. She didn’t want to risk all that she had gained by taking Lozak on with a rash, half-formed plan. She could lose, and then what would become of Gabe and Ara?

  On the other hand, did she really have much of a choice?

  She braced her feet on the floor and scanned Lozak over, trying to find one weak spot she could use to her advantage. Deciding on his knees, hoping to throw off his center of gravity, she took off in a sprint. The distance between them wasn’t wide enough to gain much speed, but she made up for it by leaping toward him, aiming to tackle him at the waist.

 

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