by Becca Andre
He vaulted onto the wooden surface and reached up to retrieve the unlit oil lamp hanging over the table. He hurled it at the pile of liches struggling to regain their feet. It shattered, liberally dousing one and splattering the others with oil. James jumped down on Elysia’s side of the table and ran to her.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he bent to retrieve the tattered shirt from the bones of the lich that had accosted her.
He flashed her a grin. “Watch.”
Balling the old shirt in his fist, he ran to the table of equipment and picked up a bottle with a peeling label that read lamp oil. Like everything else in this place, the cork crumbled when he tried to remove it, but the bottle was open. He upended it over the shirt he held, then touched the cloth to the candle flame. The old fabric caught with a whoosh.
“James!” Elysia cried out.
He looked up from the fireball he now held in his hand. “I’m immune to fire, remember?”
The liches had untangled themselves and regained their feet. Once again, they closed in on them.
James grabbed the half-empty bottle and moved away from Elysia to meet them. He shoved the flaming shirt into the chest of the one who had been most heavily doused with lamp oil, and it burst into flame. The others weren’t as easy to light. He slung the bottle’s contents on them, working quickly before the flames consumed the shirt he held.
James had assumed the burning lich was out of the fight, but it wasn’t done. He glimpsed it coming for him, and tried to block it. Unfortunately, the blow took him in the arm and knocked the bottle from his hand. The sound of the glass shattering against the floor was loud in the near-silent scuffle.
“Shit.” James ducked another grab and dropped to his haunches beside the spreading pool of lamp oil.
The three remaining liches were on top of him instantly.
“Stop!” Elysia shouted.
The trio hesitated, and James surged forward to grab the leg of the nearest lich, intending to pull it into the pool of oil before igniting it. He grabbed it by the trouser leg, but the entire garment ripped away when he pulled. But the move unbalanced the now pantless lich, and it fell on its back in the oil.
James reached out to light the oil when suddenly a hand grabbed the back of his robe, and he was hauled upward, then slung aside. Airborne, he tried to duck into a roll, but smacked the wall beside the doorway to the hall before he could do little more than cover his head. He still hit hard enough to see stars.
“Are you aware that you’re holding a burning rag?” a familiar voice asked from above him.
James blinked up at Doug. “I’m immune to fire.” He pushed himself to his feet.
“Okay.” Doug turned his attention to the room, lifting the oil lamp he still carried. “Liches, under a strong compulsion. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to ignite them.”
“What gave it away?” James asked. The lich he had ignited was stumbling around blindly.
“I can’t take them,” Elysia called. “Every time I try, she pushes me out.”
Doug glanced at James. “She?”
“Someone is speaking to Elysia,” James said. “I can’t hear it.”
“It’s not a good sign that she’s hearing voices,” Doug muttered.
“I’m bound in iron. That might be blocking the voice she’s hearing.”
One of the non-flaming liches charged toward them, and James tensed, ready to spring away.
“Stop,” Doug said, his voice almost indifferent, nothing like Elysia’s panicked tone.
The lich froze where it stood and regarded them with its dead eyes.
“Well?” Doug gestured at it. “Are you going to use that before it burns out?” He nodded at the burning cloth James still held.
Not certain that Doug wouldn’t release the lich without warning, James moved forward carefully. He pressed the fire against the lich’s shirt, and an instant later, the dry-rotted fabric splattered with lamp oil began to burn.
James took a quick step back. “Can you take the burning one?” He gestured at the first lich he had ignited.
“Yes, but I’ll have to release this one.”
“Do it. I’ll distract this guy. Have the burning lich hug the one without pants.”
“Kinky.”
“It fell in a puddle of lamp oil.”
“Good to know. For a moment, I was afraid you were going to use me to enact a twisted fantasy.”
“Now who’s the funny guy?”
Doug’s cheeks dimpled, then he looked past the burning lich and frowned. “Ely, there’s one moving your way.”
James saw that he was right. The remaining lich had noticed her and walked quickly toward her. She bent to pick up the cleaver.
“What are you doing with that?” Doug called to her. “Command it.”
“She can’t seem to stop them,” James said. “Take care of the burning one before it’s too far gone to control. I’ll get her.”
“Very well. Go.”
James sprang forward and with a sweeping kick, knocked the legs from beneath the lich he had just set on fire. The thing had barely hit the floor before James was on his feet, running to where Elysia stood.
The lich had closed the distance. She lifted the cleaver, but James could see that it was too heavy and unbalanced to be an effective weapon for her.
Suddenly, a portal opened right beside her and a pair of dogs jumped out. For an instant, he thought they might be hellhounds, but they were too small—and too dead. Bone showed through their fur, and their milky white eyes gazed at the lich who now hesitated. Oddly, neither dog attacked Elysia. They moved to stand to either side as if guarding her.
I kept you safe and for what? So you could give yourself to him? The female voice echoed out of the open portal, and James saw a hooded figure within. Was this the woman Elysia had been hearing?
The lich threatening Elysia abruptly turned and fled across the room. James didn’t turn to watch how Doug handled it. The dogs were now gazing at him.
I told you, demon. She is not for you, the woman within the portal said.
James remembered another lich calling him a demon. “You were the one I met when Elysia sleepwalked into the land of the dead.”
Yes. I will not allow you to take her, nor will she be a plaything for my father.
Elysia looked up. “Your father? Alexander?”
Come, child. The woman held out a skeletal hand, beckoning her.
James took a step forward, intending to pull Elysia back, but a dog sprang at him. It made no sound. It was just a muzzle full of teeth aimed at his face. He sidestepped the snapping jaws and reached out, catching the animal by the throat. It weighed little, and he slung it aside with ease. It flipped end over end before slamming into the wall with a crunch.
“James?” Doug called.
Taking his eyes off the remaining dog, James turned to find the lich that had tried to grab Elysia closing in on Doug. He stood with his back to James, only feet away from a burning, though still intact lich. The other two had crumbled to the floor.
“Cleaver.” James held out his hand to Elysia, then hurled it the moment the handle touched his palm. It rotated through the air, the blade glinting in the low light. Elysia gasped as it barely missed Doug’s ear and slammed into the lich facing him. An explosion of bone, and it fell at his feet.
Movement drew James’s attention back to the wall where he’d slung the first dog. The animal was now standing, the shattered bones rebuilding before his eyes. He remembered Addie’s description of the zombie dogs she and Rowan had faced in Ian’s tomb.
“Let go!” Elysia shouted.
The other dog had clamped onto her robe and was tugging her toward the open portal. But at her command, it released her.
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nbsp; She stumbled and James caught her, but before he could speak, something clamped onto his calf. He twisted around and found the dog he had thrown now attached to his leg.
“Release him!” Elysia said.
The dog obeyed, then Doug was there. With a kick, he sent it into the wall once more. Then faced the open portal and remaining dog.
“Who are you?” Doug’s eyes flickered white.
Bella Nelson. The woman’s voice whispered out of the portal. The remaining dog turned and jumped through the dark opening to join her, then the portal closed.
“Who is Bella Nelson?” Doug asked.
“Alexander’s eldest daughter,” Elysia answered.
Doug grunted. “Were those liches hers?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
The dog Doug had kicked was climbing to its feet once more.
“I’ll get the cleaver.” Doug started to turn away, but Elysia gripped his arm.
“How did you command those liches? The one controlling them told me that only a soul reaper could take them from her.”
“I masked the bond, sheathed it in my own soul so she couldn’t see it.”
“Like you can do with James.”
“Like I can do with any bond.” Doug shrugged his wide shoulders and walked off to get the cleaver.
Elysia watched him, her brow wrinkled.
“You’ll get there,” James said.
“Sometimes, I wonder.”
He took a step toward her, aware of her distress and the scent of her blood. “You’re bleeding.”
“More evidence of another failure.”
“Ely.” He moved closer, flinching a little when he put weight on his injured leg.
“You’re hurt.” She closed the distance between them and gripped his arm.
“I’ll be okay.”
A line of worry creased her brow. “But if you can’t shift, you can’t heal.”
“At least I won’t bleed out.”
She frowned, then clenched her injured hand. The scent of her blood grew stronger.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You healed me.” She opened her hand to show him her bleeding palm.
The scent of her blood permeated the air, tensing the muscles in his body and setting him on edge. The smell drove him in so many directions at once that it overwhelmed him. He wanted to heal her, but he also wanted to Hunt her. Catch her. Lick the blood from her palm, then lick other places.
“Turn around?” she asked.
Her voice startled him and he forced his mind back on a more respectable track. He turned as much to hide his blush as to give access to his calf.
She knelt behind him and lifted the hem of his robe. “Damn,” she whispered.
He twisted around to get a better look. The wound was ugly. The dog had been able to keep its feet on the ground to give its attack more power. Instead of puncture holes, these were deep gashes, shredding skin and muscle.
“It’s so weird that there’s no blood,” she said.
“That’s a good thing.” Thank God wounds made without iron didn’t bleed. He didn’t want Elysia anywhere near his toxic blood—and that had nothing to do with the fact that her death would exile him from the mortal plane.
“Where does the blood go? Has the circulation to your foot stopped?” She pressed her palm to his leg.
“My toes are a little chilled.”
“What happens if you sustain a really serious injury and can’t shift?”
“It would be unpleasant. But I can’t die that way, and shifting puts everything back to the way it was, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
She grunted, but didn’t comment.
He turned his attention back to the room around them. “Tattoos and piercings are out,” he said, trying to make light of his weirdness.
“That disappoints you?” A smile colored her voice.
“I wouldn’t mind a tattoo. But a steel needle would make me bleed, I wouldn’t heal, and the first time I shifted, the tattoo would be gone.”
She was silent a moment. “Oh wow.”
He looked back to see what had gotten such a response.
She lifted her hand from his leg. He watched in amazement as the wounds shrank before his eyes. The pain vanished along with the injury. He had watched her do the same thing with Ian, but this healed a lot more quickly than Ian’s wounds had.
She rubbed her hand over his leg one last time and rose to her feet. “What kind of tattoo would you get?”
He hesitated.
“You’ve clearly thought on it.” She smiled up at him. “Will you tell me?”
He studied her a moment longer, suddenly wishing he hadn’t brought this up. It seemed so lame to say it aloud. He glanced over at Doug. He was crouched by the zombie dog now, making certain the creature was not going to get back up. “It was a drawing of Fenrir, the monster wolf from Norse mythology who kills Odin, the man who raised him, at the final battle of Ragnarök.”
She watched him. “You don’t like your brothers much.”
He was stunned that she had figured out why he longed to have that image permanently drawn on his skin. It also shamed him that she had seen that bit of darkness.
He reached out and took her hand before she could say anything else, and brought it to his mouth. She gasped when he slid his tongue along the wound. Life exploded across his senses. He took a breath, trying to steady himself, then licked the wound again. And again. She moaned, the sound low in her throat. He wanted to tell her not to do that, and he wanted to tell her to do it again.
“Hell’s blood.” Doug’s voice jerked James back to reality. “You two need a room?”
James pulled back his lips, but Elysia pressed her fingers against them before he could snarl. “Shh,” she whispered, then turned to face Doug. “You don’t want to watch?”
“Ha ha.” Doug walked over to join them. He had retrieved his oil lamp and lifted it to survey the area. “Well, at least you didn’t find a way out and just leave me.”
“Of course not,” Elysia said. “We were detained. How did you find a way down?”
James turned and paced to the equipment table, trying to relieve the tension that now consumed his body. Her blood always set him on edge—and made him long for more. He couldn’t help but wonder about what Doug had told them earlier. Elysia glanced over at that moment, a slight frown wrinkling her brow. Was she wondering the same thing?
“I took one of the corridors we passed,” Doug explained. “It led me to the room you fell into.” He hesitated. “I saw the sarcophagus. I guess you found what you were looking for.”
“I found where she was buried,” Elysia said. “I didn’t find her.”
“There may be no her to find. You did what you could. Let’s go. Get the collar off James, then he can finish this.”
Alexander. James looked up. He still needed to rip out the man’s soul.
“But—” Elysia began.
“No buts,” Doug said. “I don’t want to be forced to do anything else I’ll regret.”
So, this was all about him. James wasn’t surprised. But Doug did have a point.
“He’s right.” James joined the conversation. “After Alexander is gone, we can explore this place more closely, and see if we can figure out what became of Matilda. If her sarcophagus is here, he must have entombed her here.”
Elysia glanced around the room, her brow furrowed in uncertainty. Was she hearing voices again?
“Okay?” he asked.
“Okay,” she agreed.
James gave her a nod, then retrieved the oil lamp over the equipment table and handed it to her, before turning to Doug. “Same as before. I’ll lead and you two follow me with the ligh
t.”
He headed across the room, giving Elysia and Doug no choice but to do as he asked. Neither complained. He suspected they were as anxious to get out of here as he was.
The doorway to the other corridor had been across the room from the sarcophagus. James had seen it, but the mystery of the stairs behind Matilda’s grave had been too much of a temptation. He knew how much Elysia wanted to find her. But that would be a mystery for another day. Right now, he needed to get her out of here and find some bolt cutters to remove the collar around his throat.
The light from the lamps provided enough illumination for him to navigate, but it would be easy to get lost in here. More passageways opened off the one they were following, and James marveled anew at how big this place was. Were they still in the city? Since he had soul tracked Elysia here, he couldn’t place it on a map, but he could return to it if he chose. Of course, so could the other denizens of this place, Alexander’s daughter included.
They made it back to the room Elysia had fallen through and skirted the perimeter. The floor was stable enough around the edges, and they crossed without mishap. Stairs rose before them, curving upward toward daylight.
James caught the scent of fresher air—and rain. A faint rumble of thunder echoed down from above.
“What was that?” Doug gripped his shoulder, pulling him to a stop.
“The first spring storm.” James might have been tempted to tease him if his own nerves weren’t already on edge. If he was in his other form, his hackles would be raising. Something wasn’t—
A portal opened behind him, and he spun to face the threat. Elysia stood between him and it, her eyes going wide as she sensed it, too. A hand reached out of that familiar darkness and gripped her shoulder, the yellowed bones visible through the tattered flesh. But the shrouded figure wasn’t any taller than Elysia. It wasn’t Alexander—it was his daughter.