This was more than sensation, more than Tam and me. Magic curled in a sensuous swirl of heat through my belly and lower, along my skin and through my mind, and I saw Tam and I pressed together as if I were standing outside my body, a witness to passion that I had no control over. Tam’s magic answered mine, his power responding, transforming those swirls into living vines, touching, entangling.
Binding.
Heat flared in the center of my chest, awake and eager, and I came back to myself, passion turned to panic.
I wasn’t across the room; I was clenched tightly in Tam’s arms. Our lips parted and we froze, pressed together, breathing fast, our hearts beating faster. Inside of me, the Saghred’s burn went from an exultant blaze to a triumphant smolder.
The rock had just given Tam a sample of the ultimate fix and a taste of me along with it. For a recovering addict, it could be damnation. Tam might be willing to risk it; I wasn’t going to risk Tam or myself.
I got my hands between us and pushed hard against his chest. “Tam, let me go.”
I was panting, so was he. A shudder ran through his body and his hold on me loosened just enough that my feet touched the floor. I was ready to fight him if I had to, but Tam released me.
“I’m sorry,” he managed between breaths.
I pulled air into my lungs, trying to clear my head, and took two steps back. I’d have retreated farther, but my back was against the glass wall. Tam made no move to come after me.
I exhaled and tried for some more air. “My fault. Shouldn’t have . . . let you get that close.”
Tam’s lips were parted, breathing softly. “I should have had more control.”
His dark eyes were still drowning pools, reflecting fear at what had happened, but desire at what we’d done. I looked away. I couldn’t drown if I didn’t go swimming again.
“Though control would be easier to come by if you didn’t feel so good.” There was still fear in Tam’s eyes, but his sly grin was sex itself. “And if you hadn’t tried to stick your tongue down my throat.”
“I didn’t try to—” Then memory collided with sensation. Oh yes, I did. Damn.
“Maybe next time we should just stand across the room and talk dirty to each other,” he suggested.
“There can’t be a next time.”
Tam didn’t answer. He might be a scoundrel, but he didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
“Tam,” I said in a warning tone.
He raised his hands defensively. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, but my thoughts are my own.”
“Until your thoughts become mine,” I shot back. “By then the damned rock will control us both. Permanently.”
That reached him.
“Before that happens, we need help—high-powered and someone we can trust.”
Tam frowned. “Mychael.”
I nodded. “And he already knows we have a connection of some kind.”
Tam didn’t ask how Mychael knew, and I didn’t tell him how he found out. With our umi’atsu bond, I didn’t understand how Tam couldn’t have known. When Mychael and I had linked, I wasn’t asleep or dreaming, and I was definitely having some strong emotions. Tam should have seen, heard, and felt every second of it. But I wasn’t going to question Lady Luck too closely. If she wanted to smile down on me, I’d take all of her goodwill that I could get.
I pushed on before Tam did ask. “And Mychael can help keep us out of a dungeon.”
He frowned. “Or put us in one.”
“He won’t do that.”
“Not you; it’s always open season on me.”
“He’s not going to arrest you; he told me so. He knows you didn’t open that Hellgate.”
Surprise, suspicion, and then reluctant gratitude flowed across Tam’s face.
I continued. “On the other hand, Carnades knows he’s found the culprit. In fact, he tried to arrest her at watcher headquarters.”
“You?”
I nodded once. “Little old me. By the way, you’re just my accomplice.”
Tam stood there in utter disbelief, and then he actually laughed.
“I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny. Carnades thinks I have demonic minions.”
That just made Tam laugh harder. It was rich, contagious, and I was relieved to hear it. “That is absolutely the first time that I’ve been accused of being a mere accomplice.” His black eyes were sparkling. “And he thinks that you have minions.”
“I could have minions,” I said defensively.
“No, darling, you most definitely could not have demonic minions.” The twinkle left his eyes and the laughter stopped. “And I don’t care what cursed rock you’re linked to, you would never open a Hellgate. I know it, because I have. Once. I’m not proud of it, but I did it. And I almost didn’t live to regret my own arrogance. There are . . . rituals that have to be done first. Hellgates aren’t accidents; they’re intentional and malicious.” His eyes softened, and I could tell he wanted to touch me again. “You could never be malicious.”
I felt my face get warm, and I had to clear my throat before continuing. “Carnades Silvanus thinks I was intentionally malicious with you backing me up—and by now a lot of other people do, too.”
Tam smiled, though it was more like a baring of fangs. “Carnades and I go back more than a few years. He was the Conclave emissary to the goblin court while I was there.”
“Carnades was at the goblin court?” I’d have paid good money to have seen that. Though I shouldn’t be surprised. He had made it his life’s work to study his enemies.
“He’s been having me watched the past few days,” Tam said. “But he hasn’t come knocking on my door.”
“Give him time, he’ll get around to you. I think he wants to scratch me off his list first. Right now he’s running around with an arrest warrant with my name on it.”
Tam shook his head and chuckled softly. “I can’t believe he actually thinks you’re practicing black magic.”
“And consorting with demons. All topped off by using the Saghred to save his highborn ass.” I laughed, a short bark. “I’m sure there’s more he’s accusing me of, but he probably ran out of room on the warrant.”
“Carnades would never want to sully his mind with mere facts, but it takes seven dark mages to open a Hellgate—six to do the heavy lifting, so to speak, and one obscenely powerful dark mage to guide their efforts and keep the Hellgate stable once it’s open.”
I had to ask. “When you opened that Hellgate before, were you the guider or a lifter?”
Tam’s eyes met mine. “I was the guider. I also had a reason, and at the time I thought it was a good one. I was wrong; I couldn’t have been more wrong—and it almost cost me my life.”
I cringed inwardly. Now you know, Raine. Are you happy? No, and you knew you wouldn’t be, but you had to ask anyway. When are you going to learn to keep your mouth shut?
I knew the answer to that one, too.
I frowned. “Mychael said there are some dark mages in the Conclave and on the college faculty.” Nothing says you’re sorry like diverting the blame to others.
“Yes, there are. And a few of them are strong enough to do the grunt work. Maybe.”
“That ‘few’ includes you and me.”
“We have the power,” Tam admitted, “and I have the knowledge. But I’d have to be ten types of insane to ever do that again. And the last time I checked, my sanity was completely intact. Not to mention we didn’t do it.”
“Tell that to Carnades.”
Tam’s eyes glittered with dangerous glee. “I just might do that.”
Not only would I pay to see that, I’d want a front-row seat.
“Okay, so who’s the ultimate evil, dark mage nutcase?”
I knew as soon as I asked it.
“Shit,” I spat.
Out of the mouth of an idiot comes the truth. I could tell myself that I’d been on the run for most of the day, fought demons, dodged arrest, defied Death. I hadn’t exactly had
time to think, let alone ponder a possible list of suspects. I didn’t need a list; I had a name.
A thousand-year-old, goblin grand shaman, the blackest of dark mages who had used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more.
And he was seriously nuts.
Rudra Muralin.
Chapter 11
I glared at Tam. “You knew that, too.”
“I did. Because I know for a fact that Rudra Muralin got out of that cave under the elven embassy before the roof collapsed. He survived.” Tam pulled a folded square of parchment out of an unseen opening in the leather armor on his chest and held it out to me. “And he’s been a very busy young man.”
I didn’t really want to touch anything Rudra Muralin had touched, but if I didn’t take it, I couldn’t read it. At least it was actual paper and ink. A couple of weeks ago, Sarad Nukpana had sent his demands on paper made from human or elf skin and had used fresh blood for ink. Apparently opening a Hellgate didn’t give Rudra Muralin any spare time for sadistic craft projects.
“His Khrynsani shamans didn’t survive,” Tam was saying. “Without his shamans, he would need powerful help to open a Hellgate.” Tam’s laugh was dark and humorless. “I imagine Rudra found all the new friends he needed when he told them that he planned to hold the island hostage for the Saghred. I know mages on this island who’d give their souls just for the chance.”
And if Rudra Muralin ever got the Saghred, his mage allies would be his first sacrifices. Bet he hadn’t included that in his offer.
I read the letter.
Tamnais,
The demons you have seen today are but a taste of what is to come. You know what I want, and you of all people should know precisely what will happen if my demands are not met. Have your elf whore get the Saghred for me and deliver it herself to the location I will specify in my next communication. You have failed me once, Tamnais; fail me again and you will have only yourself to blame for the actions I will be forced to take. My associates will fully open the Hellgate. Imagine it, Tamnais. Legions of demons overwhelming Mid’s defenses, the most magically gifted young people in the seven kingdoms at the tender mercies of the worst the lower hells can spit out. You know as well as I that those slaughtered in the initial wave will be the fortunate ones—those who remain will beg to share their fate.
Order your whore to get the Saghred. Once she has it, bring her and the stone to me.
“He didn’t sign it,” I said when I could find my voice again. “How uncharacteristically modest.” I tried for sarcasm; the tremor in my hand holding the letter lessened the effect. I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Let go of the fear, Raine. It’s not going to do you any good. Anger, now that’s the way to go. Cold, hard, steel anger. You know what to do with anger.
“And this makes the third time he’s called me your whore.” The first time was under the elven embassy. I never did get full payback on that one. That crazy goblin wasn’t going to get away with it this time. He wasn’t going to get away with anything ever again.
“He says it to taunt you,” Tam said. “And me. He knows it angers us.”
“He’s doing a fine job. I hope he enjoyed it. In my family, revenge may not be immediate, but we will get it; and when we do, it is sweet.” I nodded my head toward Tam’s bar in the corner of the room. “I could use a drink right about now.”
“The usual?” Tam asked.
“And make it a double.” I folded the letter. “What I want to know is why isn’t he in the dark somewhere holding open a Hellgate?”
“What do you mean?”
“He said ‘my associates will fully open the Hellgate.’ Would Rudra Muralin need to stay at the Hellgate? Or once the door’s cracked, so to speak, is he free to roam about the island?”
“That would depend on the strength of his allies.”
I let my raised eyebrow ask my question for me.
“It is possible. Many of the most powerful mages in existence make their home here.”
“That was everything I expected but didn’t want to hear.” I knew Rudra Muralin wasn’t about to send one of his cronies to collect the Saghred and me. He’d want that satisfaction and pleasure for himself. “So in theory, he could be anywhere on the island.”
Tam handed me a glass of liqueur so deeply red it was almost black. “A highly probable theory,” he said.
I gave him back the letter. “So that’s why you’re standing in your own apartment armed for ogre.”
Tam pocketed the letter and took a sip of his own drink. “I thought it a prudent precaution.”
I snorted. “He’s opening the Hellgate and we’re taking the blame for his handiwork. That must make him one happy psycho.” I paused. “Another thing I don’t understand is that he wants me dead and the Saghred in his hands, not an island full of demons. Isn’t opening a Hellgate like using a boulder to kill a fly?”
“He’s a goblin, Raine—as much as it pains me, we are of the same race. You know how we are. A direct assault is not our way. The most successful plan isn’t always the most direct.”
“Great. He’s nuts and a strategic thinker.”
“And exceptionally good at being both. Chances are he’s promised those like-minded dark mages a cut of any power he manages to grab. He would want allies magically talented enough to be useful to him, but whose greed blinds them into thinking he would share his power with them. And if he indeed has chosen to ally himself with the people I’m thinking of, even he—a master manipulator—will have his hands full. These people are far from stupid, but they are arrogant. They’re waiting for Muralin to do all the work getting the Saghred, then they plan on taking it for themselves.”
“Dangle the rock in front of their noses and they’d make friends with Death himself.” I had to agree that it made perfect sense. “Rudra Muralin’s been after the Saghred for hundreds of years. What’s a couple more days? Though it is kind of an elaborate plan to throw together on the fly.”
Tam was shaking his head. “Not on the fly, Raine. Carefully planned in advance. That’s one thing you can always count on with Rudra—he has a plan and it’s almost foolproof.”
Tam and I had seriously screwed up Muralin’s last evil master plan. I wondered what steps he’d taken to keep us from staging a repeat performance. One of those steps was named Carnades Silvanus; of that much I was sure. Carnades was a goblin pawn, if only indirectly. Rudra had to be thrilled that Carnades was gunning for Tam and me. It’d almost be worth getting in the same room with the over-bred elf just to tell him he was doing exactly what a goblin shaman wanted him to do and then watch his face.
But business before pleasure. Rudra Muralin in a Guardian containment cell first, then tell Carnades he’d been a goblin patsy.
“So, you got any ideas on how to flush out the bastard before this gets completely out of hand?”
Tam sipped meditatively on his drink. “We don’t have to find Rudra; he will find us—before his next communication.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not wait around for that to happen. Considering that he has two desires—the Saghred and my slit throat—I’d rather that first move be mine.”
Rudra Muralin didn’t just want me dead; he needed me dead.
About a thousand years ago, the goblin royal family had the Saghred in their arsenal, and Rudra Muralin at their right hand to wield it for them. Nothing could stop the goblin armies. They smote, conquered, and enslaved their way across the seven kingdoms—and most of those slaves were elves. On a challenge from the goblin king, Rudra Muralin used the Saghred to create the Great Rift in northern Rheskilia. The Great Rift was a mile-wide, nearly fifty-mile-long tear in the mountains of the Northern Reach. In one of the aftershocks that followed, Rudra Muralin fell off the highest edge into his newly created gorge, bringing an abrupt end to a notorious shamanic career. A couple of his more devoted disciples followed him like lemmings.
Rudra Muralin died in that ravine; but unfortunatel
y, he didn’t stay that way. Prolonged contact with the Saghred had extended my father’s life. Prolonged use of the rock brought Rudra Muralin back from the dead. But in the instant of his death, Muralin ceased to be the Saghred’s bond servant. My father led an elite team of Guardians charged with getting the Saghred out of goblin hands. My father was a mage, so when he took the Saghred, he unknowingly became the bond servant. Hundreds of years later, when the Saghred absorbed him, the stone considered him dead. So when I found the Saghred for the Guardians a couple of weeks ago, guess who got the job? For Muralin to get his old job back—and regain control of the Saghred—I had to die. He wanted to do the job himself, but any old death would do just as long as he was the first mage to reach the rock after my untimely demise.
Right now Rudra Muralin was somewhere on the island opening a Hellgate and playing political footsie with some of the local dark mages. Tam was right; he had his hands full. So if I’d gotten myself gummed to death by that giant yellow demon, his evil master plan might have gone right down the crap-per. The Saghred was in the citadel, a fortress crammed full of Guardians and Conclave mages. The rock would probably bond itself to the first mage who got close enough. Rudra Muralin knew that little fact only too well. He had to control when I died. He’d love for Carnades to lock me up; the goblin bastard would know exactly where to find me when he was good and ready.
I didn’t think I could be more motivated to remain a free woman. I was wrong. I took a not-so-healthy swig of my drink. The tang of Caesolian port burned with a cool fire.
“Well, neither one of us should go parading in front of local law enforcement—with the exception of Mychael—until we know how much trouble we’re really in. That goes double for me. When Carnades said ‘lock her up,’ he wasn’t talking to himself.”
“Raine, prison guards can be bribed or killed,” Tam warned.
“You’re as good as dead behind bars.”
The Trouble with Demons Page 12