“I gather Ronnie didn’t like the menu again,” Eva growled, her full mouth drawing into a thin, pale line of rage.
David knelt and started to scoop the woman into his arms.
“Don’t lift her,” Eva said sharply as she dropped to her knees. “She may have internal injuries. Shelly? Shelly, honey, wake up. Terry needs you.”
At those words, one swollen hazel eye opened a crack. “Ronnie?” She sounded dazed. No wonder, considering the beating she’d taken.
“It’s Eva. And my friend, David. We’re going to call an ambulance ...”
Shelly’s battered eye tried to widen in alarm. She was a pretty woman, but you’d never know it now with all the bruises distorting her delicate features. “No!” she rasped, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “Ronnie won’t like it.”
“I don’t care. You’re hurt, and you need help.” Eva brushed the bright blond hair back from the woman’s forehead to reveal a huge knot. “Looks like you’ve got a head injury. And you were unconscious, so you definitely need to be seen.”
“Who the hell’s here?” a male voice slurred from somewhere down the hall.
David rose to his feet as the voice’s owner staggered around the corner. He was a massive man, his bearded face flushed red from drink. Enormous hands flexed and fisted as his gaze came to rest on David. His head lowered like a bull about to charge. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?”
David gave him a smile that wasn’t in the least pleasant. “Taking care of the wife and child you abused.”
Ronnie’s booze-reddened face flushed even brighter, and his small eyes narrowed to slits. “Get the hell out of my house!”
“Not until we’re sure you haven’t killed your wife.”
He sneered and lurched closer. “What, are you trying to get into her pants?”
It would be profoundly satisfying to beat the bastard as badly as he’d beaten his woman. Unfortunately, the cretin was so drunk, he’d be no proper contest. David stepped forward, knocked aside Ronnie’s clumsy punch with his left arm, and plowed his right fist into the man’s nose. There was a highly satisfying spray of blood, and Ronnie toppled like a felled tree.
“Daddy!” the boy cried, running to his father’s side. He shot David a glittering, betrayed look. “You hurt my daddy!”
David stared at him, nonplussed. The bastard evidently made a habit of brutalizing both the child and his mother, yet Terry was furious at David for one soundly deserved punch.
“He’s brainwashed them,” Eva explained tightly as she pulled her cell phone out of a jeans pocket. “They think they deserve anything he does, while he can do no wrong. Nine-one-one? I need an ambulance at Apartment E-7 at the Drayton Apartments. A woman’s seriously hurt. Her husband beat her pretty badly.”
As she talked to the dispatcher, David watched the boy pat his father’s face anxiously until the man began to stir.
“Get the hell away from me!” Ronnie pushed his son roughly aside. Shooting a glare at David, he scrambled to his feet and reeled back down the hall.
David curled his lip at the man’s back and moved to crouch beside the women again.
“... time to go to the women’s shelter before he hurts you and Terry any worse than he has,” Eva was saying.
“But he’s not always like this.” Shelly licked blood from her swollen lips. “He just had a really bad day, and then I overcooked the steaks, and they were so tough ...”
David stared at her. “He beat you because the meat was tough?”
“Well, they were really expensive steaks. And his boss had raked him over the coals today ...”
“I notice he didn’t beat up his boss.” Eva sighed and gently touched the woman’s bruised shoulder. “Look, you’ve got to face facts, Shelly. Ronnie could control his temper—after all, he never attacks anybody at work. He takes it out on you because he’s a bastard, and he can.”
Shelly winced, but she didn’t deny it.
David heard a heavy step in the hallway, and his jaw clenched in rage. Ronnie, coming back for another round. David rose to his feet and stalked into the hall.
To find the man holding a .22 pistol pointed right at him.
Ronnie gave him a sneering yellow smile. “You’re in my house—and this is South Carolina. Which makes you bought and paid for, motherfucker. I can blow your ass away.”
David backed up a pace, watching Ronnie’s hands as the man stalked him, gun pointed right at the center of his chest. One more step, and Ronnie would be in range for a spinning kick ...
Then there was a growl and a blur of motion. Eva’s hand clamped down over Ronnie’s gun and wrenched it upward. Before the man even knew what was happening, she’d jerked the weapon out of his hand as though he were an errant toddler. Even in human form, she must have enormous strength.
Ronnie swung at her, but she evaded the clumsy blow with a twist of her torso that made the bastard’s fist shoot right past her head. Before Ronnie could try again, David grabbed him by one arm, half-lifted him off his feet, and hauled him toward the door.
Reading his intention, Eva dodged around them and opened the door, then slammed it behind them as David shoved the man hard against the outer wall. The big man’s feet swung several inches from the floor as David pinned him with a hand wrapped around his sweating throat.
“Let me go!” Ronnie howled, his eyes rimmed with white. The flood of astonished terror at David’s strength had evidently sobered him. “Get off me, you son of a bitch!”
“No!” David snarled, shoving his face an inch from the drunk’s. “You will listen now. A man cares for his woman. A man cares for his child. He does not hurt them. One who does is no man at all.”
“Fuck you!”
“Shut. Your. Mouth!”
“Your eyes!” Ronnie froze, staring at him in horror. “You ain’t human!”
“No.” Opening his mouth, David felt his incisors lengthen into fangs. “Now you will listen.” He drew back and slammed Ronnie against the wall again to make sure he was paying attention. “Are you listening?”
“Yeah! Fuck, yeah!” Beginning to purple, Ronnie clawed frantically at David’s arm.
“Your woman is going to leave you.” Slowly, David began to squeeze until the drunk gagged. “Which is no more than you deserve. And you will do nothing. If I see one bruise, one scrape, hear one cry ...” The human was definitely purple now, and his eyes rolled in terror. “... You are dead. I will take my time killing you, and then I will see to it that you are never found. Do you understand?”
He released his grip, letting the human fall. Ronnie staggered, gasping until he managed to wheeze, “Yeah! Yeah, I won’t touch her again. I swear!”
Coward, David thought in satisfaction. There will be no more trouble from this one.
In the distance, sirens wailed, drawing closer. “Now. You will confess to the police exactly what you did to your wife and child.” David displayed his fangs again. Ronnie stared at him with hypnotized terror. “Make sure they lock you away—away from me.”
“Yeah.” Ronnie blinked at him and sidled away. “I’ll tell ’em everything.”
THREE
Satisfied that the human was suitably cowed, David caught his arm and hauled him back into the apartment. Eva looked up when he entered, as she knelt next to Shelly. Terry crouched beside his mother in a small, miserable knot.
David dragged Ronnie over to them by one arm. “Apologize to your wife, and tell her that she will come to no more harm at your hands.”
The man licked his lips. “I’m ... uh, sorry, Shelly. I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“And?” David prompted, his tone cold and warning.
Ronnie’s eyes rolled toward him, and he blanched. “And if—when!—when you go ... I ain’t gonna hurt you.”
Shelly blinked at him in dizzy surprise. “Uh. Okay.”
Grimly satisfied, David hustled Ronnie to the bedroom, shoved him inside, and slammed the door.
As he returne
d to the kitchen, he heard Shelly tell Eva, “I guess you’re right. We’ll go to the shelter.” She sounded tired and depressed. “I can’t let him go on hurting Terry.”
David smiled at her carefully, trying not to show his fangs. He did not want to frighten the human or her child. “That is wise.”
Belle cast the shimmering magical gate in the center of Davon’s living room. The doctor stared at the swirling portal with eyes gone wide and dark. “And this thing leads to another dimension?”
“Right,” she said patiently, beginning the spiel she’d repeated until she could recite it in her sleep. “It leads to the Mageverse. That’s an alternate dimension where magic is one of the universal forces. We all draw our power from it. Now that you’re Magekind, you’ll need to live there at least part of the time in order to survive.”
“So I’m supposed to just walk through this ... door?” He eyed the gate dubiously.
“Yep. Want me to go first?”
He shot her a cool look, his manhood evidently offended. “That’s not necessary.” Davon squared his broad shoulders and stepped through the gate.
Smiling faintly, Belle followed to find him standing on the other side, staring around in awe. All around them, the city of Avalon lay sprawled under the star-flecked night sky. Castles, mansions, and châteaus glowed with magic, their high stone towers reaching for the quarter moon. Magekind witches and vampires wandered the cobblestone streets, some in twenty-first-century jeans and shirts, others in medieval velvet glittering with gems. A few wore garb from other times and countries: kimonos, saris, flowing robes in shimmering silk, even feathers or fur or leather. It all depended on the wearer’s magical whims.
Belle watched Davon as he turned in a slow circle, his lips parted in astonishment at the sheer, exuberant beauty of the ancient city. “And this is where the Magekind lives?” he asked at last. “Including King Arthur?”
“He’s not a king anymore, but yeah.” Deciding he’d had enough time to sightsee, she caught him by the arm and turned him toward a sprawling Mediterranean villa with walls of cream stone and tall, arched windows. “You’ll be staying here. I call it Joyous Guard ...”
He looked at her. “After Lancelot’s castle?”
Apparently Davon had been doing some research. “Right. Lance used to be a Magus court seducer before he got married a couple of years ago. I built this place to house all the recruits, male and female. Most of them live here until they build a place of their own,” she explained as they started up the stone walkway. When she’d conjured Joyous Guard years ago, the intricate spell left her feeling drained and sick for more than a week. But it had been worth it to ensure the recruits had a decent place to live.
“And I’ll be sent out on missions.” He looked dazed.
“Yes, once you’ve had some training. The original knights and ladies of the Round Table swore an oath to Merlin, promising to protect humankind against its self-destructive impulses. We’ve been doing that job ever since.” Belle grimaced. “And judging from what’s been going on lately, we’ve got plenty of job security.”
Davon gave her a sharp look. “So you’re basically a recruiter.”
“Exactly.” They walked through the building’s double doors.
A tall Native American almost ran into them as they turned into the main corridor. His handsome face lit in a dazzling smile. “Belle!” He gathered her into a bear hug as Davon watched in surprise. “How are you?”
“Fine, Richard.” She hugged him back and accepted his hearty kiss. “How are you? Settling in?”
“Yep. Reece Champion says I’m making real progress on my combat skills. He said I should be ready to go on my first mission in a month or so.”
“Belle?” A broad-shouldered Iraqi emerged from his apartment to join them, a brilliant smile lighting his dark face. “It’s great to see you. And with a new recruit, I see.”
“Davon Fredericks, Mohammad Hasan.” As the men shook hands, Belle gestured to Richard, who offered his own with a broad smile. “Richard Spotted Horse, Davon. Davon just completed his transformation.”
“Welcome to the club,” Richard said, pumping Davon’s hand. “If you like, I’ll be happy to show you the ropes.”
Davon returned the big man’s smile. “Hey, thanks. I need all the help I can get.”
“It is not as intimidating as it seems,” Mohammad added in his exotically musical accent. “The Magekind has a pretty good system for easing you in. Would you like a tour?”
“I’d appreciate it,” Davon told him.
Belle smiled, knowing she could surrender her new recruit into the capable hands of the older ones, just as she’d been doing for hundreds of years.
Half an hour later, Belle found Morgana Le Fay on the city’s practice grounds, a manicured expanse of grass dotted with combat circles of carefully raked sand. Low bushes separated the circles, bursting with a variety of white blooms that perfumed the air with sweetness.
Morgana watched Tristan and Arthur batter each other in one of those circles, blunted swords swinging in flashing arcs. The two men wore suits of magical armor that glittered in the moonlight as they circled, attacked, and retreated in a dazzling display of agility and strength.
Despite the complicated rhythms of combat, Tristan was simultaneously carrying on a spirited argument with Morgana.
“What about Delfina?” he demanded. “She’s worked with me before.”
“Which is why she doesn’t want to work with you now,” Morgana said, an edge of impatience in her voice. “She said, and I quote, ‘Tristan may be a Knight of the Round Table, but he’s also an arrogant prick. “Model of chivalry,” my rosy pink arse.’”
“I’m extremely chivalrous,” Tristan said, deeply offended. He spun, his blade flashing right at Arthur’s helmeted head. “And I need a witch for this mission.”
Arthur blocked the blow, then counterattacked, driving Tristan backward with a rain of blows. “Prick or not, Morgana, I want him in on this hunt.”
As Belle joined her, Morgana met her gaze and rolled her eyes. “Then he needs to quit being such a jackass. I can’t get anybody of the necessary power and experience to agree to work with him. And I don’t dare send one of the younger Majae. Not against Warlock.”
Vampires—who were always male—could not work spells, though they could shapeshift. Only female Majae like Belle and Morgana had magical abilities. Which meant if Tristan wanted a dimensional gate opened, he needed a Maja partner to do it for him.
Why Merlin had divided magical abilities along sexual lines, nobody knew. It was just the way things worked, at least for the Magekind. The rules were different for dragons, werewolves, and Sidhe warriors like Smoke.
But then, Merlin hadn’t created them.
“So order someone, dammit,” Arthur snapped, as he circled the knight, blade clanging on blade as each tested the other’s guard. “I want that bastard found. He killed twelve Latents and damn near blew my son to hell, along with a whole bunch of mortals. And we still haven’t found Smoke, which strongly suggests the Sidhe’s dead, too. If he’s not, I want him found. Either way, Warlock needs to pay.”
“I’ll go with him.” Belle blinked in appalled surprise as the words left her mouth. What the hell did I just say?
In his astonishment, Tristan dropped his guard. Arthur’s blunted sword clanked hard against his helmed head, and he staggered. Shaking off the blow, he flipped up his visor and glowered at her. “Forget that.”
Instantly offended, Belle glared back at him. “I have more than enough experience.”
“In the sack, perhaps ...”
“Combat experience, jerk,” she snapped, stung. “Arthur said I acquitted myself well in the Dragon Wars.” Belle gave the former king her best demanding stare. “Didn’t you?”
“She did,” Arthur said, bracing his blunted weapon on the ground. He flipped his visor up, revealing his bearded face and dark, acute gaze as he studied his friend.
“I don’t
care,” Tristan snapped. “I don’t want her.” He turned and lifted his sword. “Let’s try that again.”
Furious at his cavalier dismissal, Belle balled her fists and took a step toward the field. “I’ll show you combat, you arrogant ...”
Morgana caught her by one shoulder and dragged her to a halt. “Not a good idea, darling.” She dropped her voice. “What’s this about, Belle? You’ve never evinced much interest in going on field missions before.”
“Maybe I’m sick of being the Whore of Avalon.” She glared at Tristan, now in an intense low-voiced argument with Arthur.
Her friend stiffened in outrage. “Who would dare call you such a thing?”
“Spare me, Morgana. I know you’ve heard it before. They rarely say it to my face, but they do say it.”
“I assure you, nobody uses that name in my presence. Maja court seducer is a difficult and dangerous job, and you’re the best at it we’ve ever had. How many others have we lost to blood-mad vampires? You know how to handle them. And every man you’ve Changed adores you still.”
“Only because they don’t know how ready I was to kill them.” Belle lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Trouble is, I’ve stopped caring. The next time one of them goes blood-mad, I may not bother to conjure a knife.”
Morgana’s head rocked back as if she’d been slapped. She stared at Belle a frozen moment before she turned toward the two men and lifted her voice. “Belle goes with you, Tristan. Or no one does.”
The knight jerked around, and he stared at her, disbelief on his handsome face. “What? I’ll not ...”
“You will if you want magical assistance.”
Tristan turned toward his friend. “Arthur ...”
The immortal lifted both big hands in a warding gesture. “Morgana is the liege of the Majae, Tristan. I don’t tell her how to assign her women, and she doesn’t tell me how to assign my men. You know that.”
“But ...”
Arthur shot Morgana and Belle a look, then turned deliberately back to Tristan and squared his massive shoulders. “You also know that I am your liege. And I’m ordering you to work with La Belle Coeur.”
Master of Smoke Page 4