Tooth and Claw (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 2)

by Lisa Emme

  “I’m fine. It’s charmed Fae gold. It will always fit perfectly no matter who wears it.” He brushed a kiss across my forehead and then rose to his feet. He held out his hand to me. “Come on. We need to figure out what’s going on.”

  I let Nash pull me to my feet. I bent to brush the dirt off my pants and realized my long, leather duster was missing. A moment of panic set in until I realized that my katana was still strapped to my back. “That jerk stole my coat,” I grumbled and then giggled at the absurdity of what I had said. After everything I had seen and been through, the fact that my coat was missing was what pissed me off.

  Nash looked at me with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I rubbed a hand across my face and through my hair. “I’m just tired.” I looked around the space. We appeared to be in an old shed of some sort. “So what’s the deal?”

  “I know you are awake in there.” Navarre’s voice boomed all around us. I flinched at the sound. Nash’s hands on my shoulders tensed. “Come out, come out. It’s time to play.” Navarre sounded pleased with himself. He was having fun.

  With a final squeeze of my arms, Nash turned and pushed open the door to the shed. He grasped my hand, the gold chain hanging between us, and stepped outside cautiously, keeping me sheltered behind his body. It wasn’t much brighter outside. Judging from the moon, it must have been one or two in the morning. I looked around quickly. We were in the middle of a small clearing by a pond. From the looks of things, we were still on the property of the cement factory. I could just see the outline of the main building in the distance. I looked at Nash quickly and saw that he was considering the same thing.

  “The others,” I whispered. “They’ll be looking for us.”

  “Don’t worry about your friends,” Navarre’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “They haven’t been invited. Think of it as a more intimate affair.”

  A flash of light, like a flare, exploded above our heads. It sparkled in the sky, highlighting an arc of glowing golden magic that flowed over our heads and down to the horizon in the distance. We were under some sort of magical dome.

  “Isaac?” I thought as loud as I could, hoping to make contact. Nothing. Navarre’s magic was interfering with our connection.

  “You wanted a fair test and you shall have it.” Navarre’s voice was bouncing all around the clearing making it impossible to pinpoint his location. “The rules are simple. Stay alive until dawn and you win.” His laughter echoed all around us. Nash growled. “Now run!” Navarre’s voice snapped like a clap of thunder.

  There was a whooshing sound followed by a loud thunk, but I was already on the ground, Nash on top of me. I looked back at the shed. A large crossbow bolt quivered from where it was lodged in the door frame. I looked at Nash, his bicep was scored with a long, bleeding cut.

  “You’re hurt!”

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it Harry.”

  “But...”

  “I’m fine.” Nash grabbed my chin and met my eyes with his. “I’m fine, Harry.” I swallowed and nodded at him, unable to speak. “Okay, good.” Nash smiled at me. “Now listen. We are going to get up and we are going to run as fast as we can for the treeline behind me. Can you see it?” I nodded again. “That’s good. You’re doing good Harry. Now get ready and run as fast as you can. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I gave him a look with more confidence than I felt.

  Nash shifted his legs slightly and then grasped my forearms. His body tensed and then he whispered, “Now!” as he leapt to his feet, pulling me up with him. We launched ourselves across the clearing, hand in hand, Navarre’s laughter chasing us the whole way. As we neared the treeline, another bolt whizzed past, narrowly missing my hip to lodge deeply in the tree in front of me. Nash yanked me to the side and then we continued to run, zig-zagging through the trees, deeper into the woods.

  We ran for ten or fifteen minutes, our path taking us in a jagged pattern but generally heading east, away from the city. I was running as fast as I could, but I’m sure Nash was barely breaking out of low speed. Finally, my lungs burning, my legs numb, Nash pulled us to a stop behind a cluster of large trees.

  “Are you okay?” He looked at me in concern. The bastard was barely even breathing heavily.

  “I’m…fine…” I gasped out, bending over my legs, sucking in air as fast as I could. “You...you...could at least...pretend...to be...slightly...winded you know.” I panted and gave him a wry smile. I slowly straightened to standing with a groan, trying to take slower, deeper breaths. I looked at his shoulder where blood still seeped from the crossbolt cut and frowned. “You’re still bleeding.” He shouldn’t have still been bleeding from that small cut. It should have easily healed.

  “He’s using silver coated bolts,” Nash said, confirming what I had been thinking.

  I grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt and tore off a long strip. Against Nash’s protests, I cleaned the wound the best I could and then wrapped the strip of fabric around his bicep. “At least it will keep you from dripping blood and giving him something to follow.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks Harry.” Nash pulled me up against his chest, kissing my forehead. “We have to keep moving. Are you ready?”

  I nodded. I really didn’t feel like moving. It felt safe in Nash’s arms.

  “Okay then. We’re going to head south now. I want to try and skirt back around and head towards the cement factory.” Nash gave my head another nuzzle, breathing in my scent. He pushed me away so he could look down at my face. “You have to promise me you will keep running, keep fighting no matter what happens.” His voice was fierce. “Promise me, Harry.”

  “Of course, I will. We will.” I grabbed his face and gave him a fierce look back. “We’ll get through this together.”

  Nash gave me a tight smile and then grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me up against his chest again, his lips crushing down on mine. The kiss was full of hunger and promise, and over much too quickly as he grabbed my hand and set off. He turned to head south, starting at a slow trot until I got my legs under me again. The brush was thicker here and it made for slower going. Nash led the way, directing me to follow behind, trying to keep the path we were cutting through the bush as small and inconspicuous as possible.

  The pace Nash set was much easier for me to maintain, especially as we had to dodge, duck and jump over the brush and brambles. Nash practically floated over the trail, with all his back woods experience. I, on the other hand, imagined I was leaving as delicate a trail as a raging rhino. If only we weren’t chained together, Nash would probably stand a chance.

  “Stop it.” Nash’s voice was a low whisper.

  “What?” I whispered back in surprise.

  “I know what you’re thinking and I don’t like it.” He let out a low growl.

  “You couldn’t possibly know what I’m thinking,” I hissed back at him.

  “Little minx, I can feel your thoughts burning into me. You are not holding me back. You’re holding me together.” Nash’s voice sounded adamant. He squeezed my hand.

  “How could you possibly know that’s what I was thinking?” I frowned at his back and then stumbled over a tree root. Nash turned and caught me in his arms before I could fall. “What did you do to me?” I looked at him with trepidation. “Why does everyone keep saying I’m your mate?”

  Nash huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Harry, this isn’t a good time.”

  I let out a deep breath. “I know. Forget I asked.” I pushed him away. “Let’s just keep moving.”

  “Harry…” Nash reached out to me, but I shied away from his touch. If he could feel what I was feeling, I’m sure he was getting a whole lot of anger and confusion from me.

  He turned with a grimace and started off again at a trot. We carried on in silence, or rather Nash was silent. I continued to pant like an elephant in
labour and thrash through the underbrush. I don’t know how long we had been going when I first noticed the hum. It was a low pitched vibration, like the sound of a moth’s wings, only it was getting much louder.

  “Do you hear that?”

  “Yes, for some time now.” Nash grunted and slapped at his neck. He pulled his hand away. It glistened with a small spot of blood. “What the hell?”

  “What’s wrong?” I glanced at Nash and saw the blood. “Did something bite…Ow! Hey!” I suddenly felt like I had been stabbed between the shoulder blades. The pain was sharp and quick and then gone. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something flash past. “Look out!”

  Nash ducked as something whizzed past his head. A feeling like a sharp claw scraped across my bare arm. “Ouch!” I looked down. My arm was scratched deep enough to bleed.

  “Harry, are you okay?” Nash waved his hands at his head. “What the...?”

  I looked over at him. He looked like he was being dive-bombed by tiny moths. Another sharp pain diverted my attention as blood blossomed on my forearm. “Hey! Stop that!”

  Nash’s hand flicked out and he grabbed something as it flitted by. “What the hell is that?” He peered at the alien being caught between his thumb and forefinger. The tiny creature was about three inches in length and looked kind of like a blue moth on steroids, if moths had tiny heads like people that is.

  “It’s a pixie!” I couldn’t contain my surprise. As I spoke, the tiny creature gathered his hands in a ball in front of his face like he was about to blow into them. “Shit! Nash look out!” The pixie puffed a tiny cloud of magical dust at Nash. I flung out my hand and pushed the pixie and his dust away using my telekinesis. In my panic, I sort of overdid it and the tiny being flew into a tree with a sickening crunch, falling lifeless to the ground. “Oh no!” I hadn’t meant to kill the little thing.

  “What's going on, Harry?”

  “They’re pixies. Don’t let their dust get in your face or you’ll be blind until sunrise.” I waved off two more of the dive bombing little buggers. The humming had become much louder. I think killing one of them had made them angry. I looked around. “Holy shit!” In the sky, a cloud of pixies, hundreds of them, hovered above our heads. “We have to get the hell out of here. Fast.”

  Nash took one look at the pixie cloud and grabbed my arm, all but dragging me away. He cut a path through the low overhanging trees, hoping to keep the pixies from getting too close, but we were peppered with bites and scratches as the tiny creatures flew down to harass us.

  “Damn that Navarre. He calls this a fair fight?” I growled, sweeping my hand and pushing several of the dive bombing buggers away from above our heads with a mental swat.

  Nash was growling and batting them away. They seemed to be most concerned with him. Another of the little bastards flew up to Nash’s head, his hand at the ready with pixie dust. I batted him away with barely a thought. I was getting much better at mind over matter.

  “We have to get somewhere so I can cast a banishing spell. We need water. Water would be perfect.” Nash grunted and then veered off to the left. His back was a mess of tiny wounds, each one oozing blood. From the feel of it, mine wasn’t much better.

  We came to a halt in a small clearing. It was another retention pond. Although I wasn’t particularly thrilled with the idea of wading into the cold water, I pushed past Nash and splashed in.

  “Come on. They won’t follow us over the water.” I had already noticed a lack of pixie attacks the moment my feet touched the water. Nash waded in after me. Not that he had much choice. The chain securing my cuff to his collar would only allow us to get a couple feet apart.

  The water was frigid and my teeth immediately began to chatter. When I was about waist deep, I turned back to look at the shore. A large cloud of pixies hovered at the edge, but they wouldn’t fly over the water.

  “Maybe we could swim to the other side and avoid them?” Nash looked back at the swarm.

  “I doubt it. They’ll just follow us.” I shivered. “We should probably duck under the water and make sure we wash off any dust. If it gets in our eyes we’re screwed.”

  Nash dunked under quickly without even a gasp at the cold temperature. I took a deep breath to try and get up the courage then did the same. It was incredibly cold. I burst up out of the water feeling like a popsicle. “Omigod, that’s cold.” My teeth chattered and I rubbed my pixie pocked arms trying to get the circulation going. Blood oozed from over a dozen spots on my arms.

  Nash gathered me close, wrapping his arms around me. It was like being wrapped in a warm, although wet, blanket. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast. I don’t want to be trapped here when Navarre shows up.”

  “Right. Okay.” No pressure. Thanks Nash. I frowned and then bit my lip trying to remember my hedge magic class.

  “Harry?” Nash shifted impatiently, his eyes never leaving the shore.

  “Alright, alright. Give me a second.” I took a deep breath, calming my thoughts. Regretting the necessity, I took a couple steps away from Nash’s warm embrace. I turned to face the pixie hoard and took a deep centering breath before beginning to chant:

  “Pesky pixies heed my call,

  Mischief makers, one and all,

  To Underhill you must go,

  Heed me now or live in woe.”

  I repeated the chant several times, which wasn’t easy. You try saying ‘pesky pixies’ without tripping over your tongue. On my third repetition, I pushed out with my magic. It washed across the swarm like a wave, the pixies disappearing with a pop like soap bubbles popping in the sink.

  “Well done, minx.” Nash’s voice was filled with pride and made me feel all warm inside. Unfortunately, it didn’t help against the cold. My teeth were still chattering as Nash led me out of the pond.

  Nash’s pixie wounds had already begun to heal over. Mine on the other hand still were oozing sores. Nash looked at them and frowned. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I’m fine. They’ll stop bleeding in a minute.”

  “Good.” Nash nodded. He looked around getting his bearings. “Let’s go.” He trotted off again, setting a quick pace. My teeth continued to chatter, but the effort of keeping up with Nash helped to warm me up. We had been moving southeasterly for several minutes when Nash suddenly halted, throwing a hand up to stop me. He turned and put a finger to his lips. I bit mine to keep from wondering out loud what was going on.

  Nash stood at the edge of the clearing and sniffed the air. Suddenly he grabbed me as he lunged to the side, taking us both to the ground. A crossbow bolt shot past above our heads. Navarre had found us.

  “Quick,” Nash hissed at me. “Stay low and stay behind me, but move as fast as you can.” He grabbed my hand and we both got to our feet, remaining in a crouch. He turned and started edging around the clearing, reluctant to break cover and cross into the open.

  Crossbow bolts began to sail over our heads, seemingly from every direction behind us. It was like Navarre was everywhere except in the clearing. He was trying to herd us there for some reason.

  Nash gasped, sucking in a breath. I looked over and called out in dismay. “Nash!” A bolt stuck out of his left shoulder. I closed the distance between us to see him grimacing in pain.

  “Take it out,” Nash ordered through clenched teeth. His eyes had already begun to glaze as the silver began to poison his system.

  Without giving it another thought, I grabbed the bolt with both hands and yanked it out with a sickening pop. Blood gushed from the wound and I tried to staunch it with my hands.

  “No, let it bleed for a minute. It will help get rid of the silver.” Nash panted, hissing a breath in through his teeth.

  I jumped as another bolt whizzed by, embedding in the ground at our feet. A second one quickly followed, making us jump back as it landed even closer.

  “In
to the clearing,” Nash said, clearly wishing we had another choice.

  I grabbed his good arm and put it over my shoulders and we stepped into the clearing. The bolts stopped. Clearly Navarre had got what he wanted. A few steps into the clearing, Nash straightened and stood on his own. Thankfully, the blood from his wound had already slowed to a sluggish ooze. Nash turned in a circle sniffing the air. When he stopped, he swept me behind him with his arm, protecting me, as Navarre stepped into the clearing.

  “You bastard!” I glared at him, peeking my head around Nash. “Pixies aren’t playing fair.”

  Navarre shrugged and gave a little wave with his hand. “The pixies weren’t for the wolf, my lovely. They were for you. A challenge if you will. One that you met most admirably, almost too easily even.” He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Who are you, I wonder?” He shook his head, as if the thought was suddenly of no consequence.

  “Get on with it Navarre, you have no cause to involve Harry. Let her go and we’ll finish this.” Nash growled at Navarre.

  “No!” I pushed past Nash to stand beside him. I gave him a dirty look. What happened to fighting Navarre together?

  “Well, I believe that is your answer right there.” Navarre chuckled. “She most certainly does give me cause.” His eyes became cold, his face impassive. “I will kill your mate in front of you before I gut you like the animal you are.”

  Nash growled, his fangs descending. He swept out his arm, pushing me behind his body again.

  “See?” Navarre gestured at Nash. “The animal rushes to the surface. Perhaps it is time to meet him face to face.” He raised his hand as if about to cast a spell.

  “Wait!” I pushed past Nash again, earning a quiet growl of warning from him. “What is your problem? Why do you have such a hate-on for werewolves? What did they ever do to you? What did Nash ever do to you?”

  Navarre’s face lit with surprise. “What did he do to me? Everything! He took everything from me.”

  Confused, I glanced at Nash. He shook his head in denial, a look of resignation in his eyes. I turned back to Navarre who was practically quivering with rage. “What the hell are you talking about?”