Eva blinked in astonishment. “David, how the hell did you do that?”
He shrugged. “Magic. But my name isn’t David. I’m Smoke.”
“You’ve regained your memory?” Eva frowned, surprised at her sinking heart. This should be good news. Why did it feel like a disaster?
“For the moment.” He cocked his dark head, studying her with that alien intelligence that made her skin creep. It was as if he’d been possessed by something very, very old.
And not human at all.
“What do you mean, ‘For the moment’? You think you’ll forget again?”
“If Warlock has anything to say about it. Which unfortunately, he does.” Turning, he moved away to crouch over one of the butchered bodies. The feral bloodlust was gone from his face, replaced by a clinical interest. Definitely not the man she knew.
But whoever he was, he was scary as hell.
He rose and circled the bodies, studying them, head cocked. “Warlock isn’t here.”
“Uh—Warlock?” She watched as he sank onto his haunches to examine a particularly mangled corpse, breathing deep as if seeking the man’s scent. He didn’t even move like David. There was something animal about the way he held his head and placed his feet, something more tiger than man. “Who’s Warlock?”
“The Dire Wolf who tried to steal my magic and memories.”
“Dire Wolf?”
“That’s what they’re called. That’s what you are. Except unlike the rest of you, Warlock is a sorcerer. He attempted to strip me of my powers.” He glanced up at her, teeth flashing in a snarling smile. “So I rammed it all down his throat and tried to choke him with it.” Broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I did not quite succeed, but at least I escaped. Or rather, most of me did.”
Realization dawned. “You’re talking about when I found you—when you fought that big white werewolf—Warlock?”
David—Smoke—nodded. “He wishes to become a god to his people. Fool. There is more weight than worship in being a god. And I would know.”
She swallowed. “You’re a god?” Oh, great. Time to fit Dave for a tinfoil hat.
“Not anymore.”
What the hell does that mean? “Ummm. Not anymore?”
The blue gaze went distant. “Once I was. Many, many years ago. I do not remember how many centuries gone. After a thousand years or so, even such dark memories dim.” Rising to his feet, he started across the field in the direction of their wrecked car. “We must leave. Warlock will try to steal my powers again, and I don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s kept just enough of what he has taken to bar me from taking my power back.” A muscle flexed in his angular jaw as if he ground his teeth. “But he won’t keep it long. And he will regret the theft.”
Centuries? Did he say centuries? Eva hurried after the stranger in her lover’s body. “Look, what exactly are you? And what happened to David?”
He looked around at her in surprise. “I am David.”
“No. No, you’re really not.”
Smoke started to speak, then closed his mouth and shook his head. “No, I suppose as far as you’re concerned, I’m not.”
“Then what the hell are you?”
He hesitated a moment even as he lengthened his stride until she had to run to keep up. “That would take entirely too long to explain, and we must get out of here now.”
Eva jolted to a halt in the knee-high kudzu, eyeing her poor Ford Focus in dismay. “We’re not going anywhere in that car.”
Her baby had gone into the ditch at an angle, hard enough to crumple its front end like a crushed beer can. The right front wheel was bent completely under the body, and the vehicle tilted as it sat nose-down so the left rear wheel was completely off the ground. Looking through the shattered windshield, Eva saw the limp white shapes of both deployed air bags. “It’s totaled.” She felt sick, thinking of her thousand-dollar deductible. Managing that and the rent this month was going to be a bitch. “I’ll have to call a wrecker and have it towed.”
“Warlock will be here before the wrecker arrives.” Smoke handed her the sword and stepped into the ditch.
Biting her lip, Eva eyed the werewolves’ vehicles. None of them were damaged at all, though she couldn’t imagine herself playing Hell’s Angels on one of those big hogs. As for Smoke/David—who the hell knew what he could do? “We could take the Hummer. Bet Wolfie left the keys in the ignition.”
Smoke shot her an impatient look. “Do you really want the police to find you driving a vehicle whose owner has been chopped into very bloody pieces?” He shook his head. “The cat outdid himself. He’s quite protective of you.”
Puzzled, Eva frowned. “What cat?”
“Our third spirit brother.” He bent, hooked his hands under the car, and heaved upward, jerking the Ford’s front end out of the ditch with a grunt of effort.
Damn, Eva thought in stunned astonishment, I’m sleeping with Superman.
Smoke dropped the crumpled front end of the wrecked car on the shoulder with a grinding crash.
“Wow.” Eva took a step back as he scrambled out of the ditch. “That was damned impressive, but the car’s still not going anywhere. Not in the shape it’s in.”
“Patience, child. I’m not finished.” Smoke grimaced as he put a hand to the small of his back, arching his spine and rolling his shoulders. “Gods and devils, I think I pulled something. Feh. Well, I’ll heal it later. If there’s time.”
He set his feet apart and closed his eyes, bowing his head. His dark hair tumbled forward.
“What are you doing? And who are you calling a child?”
“Shush.” When he raised his head again, his eyes glowed a blue so bright, they lit his face like torches. His hands lifted. Blazing power poured from his palms. The magic made Eva’s skin tingle and warm, as if she was standing too close to a roaring fire. Instinctively, she took a step back as the glow engulfed her battered Ford, winding around it in a blinding double helix that grew brighter and brighter. She smelled ozone and heating metal, heard a grinding pop and the tinkle of glass.
Smoke let his hands fall in an abrupt gesture, and the blinding glare faded.
“Hot damn,” Eva muttered when she could see again.
The car sat on all four wheels, looking as if it had just rolled off the showroom floor, its chrome glittering in the moonlight. Not so much as a ding marred its paint job.
Awed, she walked the length of it, running her fingers along its cool metal skin. Not only had Smoke repaired the Hummer damage, he’d fixed the dent in the front door inflicted by an errant shopping cart. Even the scrapes from her run-in with a concrete pylon a year ago had disappeared. The car hadn’t looked this good when she’d bought it. “Damn.” Eva turned to grin at him. “It looks ...”
Smoke’s face was white as paper and streaming sweat. He swayed like a man fighting a gale, his hands shaking as he lowered them to his side.
“Oh, hell.” She dropped the sword and dove for him. She barely managed to catch his shoulders before his knees buckled.
“No, you bastard.” Warlock’s lips curled back from his teeth. “The power’s mine now. You don’t get it back.”
He knelt in the center of the silver spell circle, both hands fisted on the grip of a massive battle-axe planted butt-down on the stone floor. Lips curling back from his fangs, he stared into the great red gem that tipped the shaft between massive double blades. The stone, responding to his will, blazed a sullen crimson, the glow burning its way along the deep runes engraved in the alien steel.
Arthur had Excalibur. Warlock had Kingslayer.
Kingslayer’s gem could act as a focus for his power, amplifying it as a ruby intensifies light into a laser. Kingslayer was Warlock’s most powerful weapon, and he guarded it jealously. No one living even knew of its existence, not even the core leaders of the Chosen. He had not used it in decades. Hadn’t needed to.
Panting with effort, Warlock stared into the heart of the gem, seeking the bright c
ord of magic that stretched tight between him and the godling. He could feel Smoke fighting him, trying to drag the power away, to steal it back into himself, reassemble his fractured mind.
Too bad, Cat, he thought, gritting his teeth and tightening his psychic grip. It’s mine now.
Gathering all his power, Warlock blasted mind and magic through the stone, sending it ripping into Smoke’s wounded consciousness. He heard a short, psychic howl that suddenly cut off.
And he smiled.
The new magical cage Warlock had conjured with his axe was much stronger. Strong enough to separate Smoke’s power from his memories and the fragments of his godling’s soul.
He wouldn’t escape again. And once his body was dead, the elemental’s rebellion would be over.
Forever.
“Arrrrrrrghhhhh!” Smoke’s powerful back arched as he screamed, his arms flinging wide, hands clawing at empty air.
“David!” Eva fought to support his writhing body. If not for her supernatural strength, she’d have gone down with him in a heap. As it was, she barely managed to hang on to him as she dropped to her knees, cradling his head and shoulders in her arms. His eyes squeezed shut, his lips pulled back from gritted teeth as he twisted in her grip like a man tortured. His face gleamed with sweat, and she could feel his heart slamming in his chest. “David, what’s happening? David!”
As suddenly as he’d begun to convulse, he collapsed, his body going boneless in her arms.
A dead weight.
Her heart jammed her throat until she saw the rise and fall of his chest. She put her ear to his sternum and listened with desperate attention.
Yes, his heart still beat. It was slowing down, which was probably a good thing, considering it had sounded as if it was about to burst from his rib cage a moment ago.
She sat up again, licking dry lips. “David?”
A long tense moment passed. Finally he stirred, a frown line forming between his thick dark brows.
“David, we need to get out of here. That Warlock guy you were talking about ...”
His eyes flared wide at the name, rage hot white in their depths, pupils tightening into ovals in the moonlight. His lips peeled back, revealing fangs, and he growled, a low, savage sound. His alien gaze met hers, burning blue.
Who the hell is he now? Eva thought, staring at him in sick despair. That’s not Smoke, and it’s sure not David.
Wait. Smoke had said something about a cat—“The cat outdid himself. He’s quite protective of you.”
So he had multiple personalities now? David, Smoke, and this “cat.”
And where in the name of God and little fishes did Warlock fit into this mess?
Reminded that they needed to get the hell away, she braced her hands under David/Smoke/Cat’s shoulders and pushed him into a sitting position. Thank God for werewolf strength. “Listen, Fang, we’ve got to get the hell out of Dodge. Smoke said Warlock’s coming.” And how weird was it, to tell him something he’d just told her as if he was somebody completely different? But he was, so she was just going to have to deal.
Shouldn’t be too hard. She’d been breaking the laws of common sense for years now.
“Warlock?” His voice rumbled, even deeper than normal.
“You can talk? Good. Yeah, Warlock. In the car, Fang.”
And he was out of her arms and on his feet, fluid and fast. He put down a hand, caught hers, and pulled her up. By the time Eva found the sword she’d dropped when his convulsions began, he was in the passenger seat.
Well, at least he’s obedient. Now if we can only get out of here before Warlock shows up. She tossed the sword on the backseat, then slid into the driver’s side and buckled her seat belt out of pure habit. “Buckle up, Fang. The sooner we’re away from here, the better. There’s way too many dead people here.”
Fang obeyed without fumbling and settled back in the seat as Eva started the car. The Ford ran more smoothly than it had in years.
“I killed our enemies.” His growling voice barely sounded like the same man at all.
“I got one, too, but yeah.” Looking back over her shoulder, Eva pulled into the empty road. Now if only she could figure out where the hell she was and how to get home. It was really time to spring for a GPS.
“What happened when I left you?” Fang asked.
“This guy, god, whatever ...”
“His name is Smoke.”
“Right. Smoke ... umm, came out”—just in time to keep you from dicing me into a Bloomin’ Onion—“and fixed the car. He said Warlock was coming, and then he fell over and went into convulsions. Do you know what happened?”
“Warlock happened.” Fang flexed his big hands on his jeans-clad knees like a cat kneading a cushion. “Warlock stole our powers. And a good portion of the god. All that is left is the Sidhe and me, and we are in pieces. Too many pieces. Too scattered. We cannot”—he drew spread fingers into a fist—“connect.”
“She? She who?” God, was there another one? A girl? Shit. Because the lesbian thing was so not happening.
“Sidhe,” Fang corrected. “Fae. The one you call David.”
“Oh, Sidhe.” She’d read enough high fantasy to recognize the word. Reaching an intersection, she stopped as the light went red. “Were you together before?”
“We have been Smoke for many centuries.” With brooding eyes Fang watched a Toyota pickup roll past. “The god arrived in our world with others of his kind. His people are elementals, and alien—no more than magic and will. He would not have survived without a living host. He called, and I answered.”
As the light turned green, Eva frowned, tossed a mental coin, and turned left. She still had no freaking idea where she was, but she’d lived in Greendale for twenty-five years. Eventually she’d hit a street she recognized. “So this Smoke is some kind of alien?” As if her life wasn’t weird enough.
“Well, yes. But by your standards, so am I.”
EIGHT
Eva blinked at him before jerking her eyes back on the road. “What?”
“We are not from this Earth. We’re from another ... dimension, I suppose you would say, an Earth where there is magic.”
Christ, weirder and weirder. I’d think he was nuts if I hadn’t seen him voodoo the car. “But how did you get here?”
Fang shrugged. “A magical portal.”
“Oh, Lord, I’m trapped in an episode of Stargate.”
He frowned at her. “What?”
“Never mind. So a noncorporeal alien whatsit arrived on magic Earth. Then what?”
“I was a ciardha then ...”
“A what?”
“A ciardha. Something like a tiger, but a little bigger, black, with silver stripes on the haunches.” He smiled at some memory. “All the ciardha females thought I was very beautiful.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Eva spotted a strip mall she thought she recognized and turned down the street.
“I had only an animal’s mind until Smoke merged with me. He changed my brain, increased my intelligence, made me more than an animal. Later we found David’s people, and became their god. The one you call David was the greatest warrior of his tribe then, and Smoke selected him to be our new host. When he moved into David’s body, I went with him.”
Another red light brought her to a halt. “But ... why?”
He shrugged. “His people were suffering at the hands of the Dark Ones, who were predatory invading aliens who lived on the energy of human suffering. We needed hands, and all we had were paws. Good body for killing, less so for leading a tribe. And there was a priestess who wanted us.” Fang stopped, and his features suddenly contorted in feral rage as if at some horrible memory. “We should have killed her instead of loving her. Bitch. Oh, foul, foul bitch. We killed her too late.”
Which sounded like her cue for a subject change. “Ah, yeah. So, about this Warlock character. How did you end up locking horns with him?”
“He was trying to kill the son of Arthur Pendragon—”
Fang nodded. “So he was, once. Now he leads the vampires of Avalon.”
Eva rubbed her aching head. “Of course. What else would he do? Jesus.”
Power surged and sang in Warlock again, and he shuddered at the drugging pleasure. Gods and devils, but it was sweet having such magic burning wild and alien in his soul, ready to leap to his will.
And I’m not giving it back. He snapped his jaws together, crunching imaginary bone. Soon he’d have Smoke dead and the power safe, beyond anyone’s ability to strip away.
But first he’d have to find out what had gone wrong.
The dimensional gateway formed at a flick of his clawed fingers, and he stepped through, every sense wary and alert.
An empty field lay around him, silent except for the sigh of the wind through rustling kudzu. But when he inhaled, the smell of blood and death coated the inside of his nose. Frowning, he followed the scent.
He found what was left of the Skoll team lying in crushed green leaves sticky and splattered with drying blood. Striding around the corpses, he mentally reconstructed the combat with eyes that had seen fifteen centuries of war.
At first Warlock wondered if Smoke had changed to his great cat form in order to kill his warriors. The godling had done it before. But no—these wounds had been inflicted with a blade, swung with great force and equal skill.
And tremendous rage.
Smoke hadn’t just killed the Dire Wolves, he’d butchered them. Warlock was reluctantly impressed, considering that each of his wolves outweighed Smoke’s human form by two hundred pounds and topped him by more than a foot. Yet he’d overwhelmed them.
Warlock would just have to make sure the next team didn’t underestimate the cat. Nothing less than Smoke’s death was acceptable.
It was just as unacceptable for the mortal police to stick their noses into this business. And they would, if they found all these werewolf corpses. That would draw the attention of their media, which would alert the Celt and his knights. I don’t want to confront Arthur until I have gained control of my power. Then I’ll kill him.
Master of Smoke Page 10