by C. I. Black
Nero bolted toward her as Becca dove at her from atop the desk. Stanbury screamed and pulled out another card. A gust of wind hit Becca, tossing her across the room and into the wall. She hit with a bone-breaking crunch and fell to the floor.
Pain sliced through Nero’s head, strong enough to cut through Stanbury’s null magic spell.
“Becca.” He jerked toward her. He couldn’t help himself, even if all his centuries of combat experience told him to stay focused on the enemy. Instinct overrode everything, and his inamorata was hurt.
“Eyes on the target,” Becca gasped, rising to her hands and knees. “I’m all right.”
He couldn’t believe that. His chest was on fire and it had to be her agony. But she was right. Stanbury was the danger, and he wrenched his attention back to her as another blast of wind shot from the card. Nero dove to the side. The wind slammed into the desk and tossed it toward Becca, who scrambled out of the way.
More pain burned into Nero, stealing his breath and dragging his attention back to Becca. She’d probably broken her ribs. Maybe punctured a lung.
But he knew this hadn’t been the first time, and from her memory of the attack in Afghanistan, she’d been through worse. Not to mention they were running out of time.
Becca staggered to her feet.
Stanbury shot a third blast of wind at Nero. He leapt to the side, but it caught his shoulder and jerked him around, back, and down to his hands and knees.
The card crumbled, the pieces fluttering to the floor, and Stanbury pulled another card from her pocket.
“Jeez. How many cards do you have?” Becca asked, her voice tight with pain.
“More than enough to deal with you and that monster.”
Which meant he had to get up and move. Now. Before Stanbury could cast anything else.
With a roar, he lunged at Stanbury. She jerked back, but he caught her wrist and yanked her hand from her pocket. She held four cards, and he twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop them instead of trying to stab her.
The cards tumbled to the floor and Nero plunged his knife toward her gut. She twisted, blocked his strike with the wrist of her free arm, and rammed her heel into the inside of his knee. The joint crunched and his leg buckled. He seized her free wrist and tightened his grip on the other one as he fought to regain his balance.
A wicked grin curled Stanbury’s lips. “I don’t need to hold one of my cards to activate it.” She pressed her elbow against her side and yelled another power word. “Now drop.”
A weight swept over Nero, everything went numb, and he collapsed. He fought to stand, to move, to do anything, but he could barely feel his body and couldn’t get even the smallest muscle to move.
“You honestly think you could win a fight against me?” Stanbury pressed her heel against his chest and leaned in. He fought to breathe. “You dragons think you’re so superior, that your very nature makes you special, but you’re not. You’re just beasts disguised as people.”
The weight on his chest increased, building with the aching loss of his dugga’s magic. Black specks danced across his vision and searing pain lanced through his head.
From above and behind him, Becca yelled.
Stanbury yanked a card from her pocket, barked her power word, and a gust of wind shot from the card. “I’m not ready for you.”
Nero strained to turn his head to see, but still couldn’t. There was only the weight and Becca’s pain, blazing through him. He didn’t even know if she was conscious.
I’m all right, she said, her mental voice pained and sounding far off, but still there along with a hint of her presence in his head.
A flash of relief flooded him. Thank the Mother, it looked like the null magic spell was starting to fade. That had to be the catch with the paper. The spell was fast to cast but didn’t last.
Except that didn’t help anything. Becca was still in danger, and Stanbury still had who-knew-how-many spell cards left.
You have to get out of here, he thought with as much force as he could, in hope of getting through the null magic. I’ll distract her, or something, but you have to run.
For the love of— Becca growled, and Stanbury’s gaze leapt from Nero back across the room again. We’re getting your magic back and protecting your kids. Now get off your ass and fight.
Except he couldn’t move and could barely breathe. All he could feel was Becca’s burning agony and little sharp bites in his arms and legs.
“You should stay down,” Stanbury said, crouching beside him. Another gust of wind exploded from the card.
Something crunched, Becca screamed, and more of her pain swept through him, their connection growing stronger. Mother, Stanbury was going to kill Becca, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He mentally wrenched against the paralysis spell. He had to get up. Help Becca. More agonizing bites sliced into him, as if his muscles were being stabbed with a thin blade.
Stanbury shot another blast of wind, and Nero jerked his head to follow it.
Becca scrambled from beside the desk, over a chair, and dove out of the way.
Stanbury swore. Nero heaved his attention back to her as the card crumbled. If she was going to cast again, she needed to activate another card. This was his chance to strike. He’d moved his head. He could move other muscles.
He heaved at his arm, willing himself to grab her wrist and stop her from drawing a card long enough for Becca to attack.
Stanbury sneered. “Please. Keep trying. I have more than enough time to kill Rebecca before my spell on you wears off.”
His hand twitched.
Stanbury’s eyes flashed wide as he forced his hand to her wrist and seized it. With a yelp, she fell back onto her butt.
About time, Becca said. She lunged at Stanbury, but the other woman wrenched free of Nero’s grasp and got out of the way. She scrambled to her feet, bolted to the back wall, and pressed a button. Half hidden by a tall leafy plant, a pair of elevator doors slid open, revealing a waiting car, and she rushed inside.
Becca raced after her and drew her Glock. Nero heaved to his hands and knees and drew his sidearm, as well. Stanbury yanked another card from her pocket, said the power word, and a wave of power slammed into them. Becca was thrown back, flying past Nero and tumbling across the floor into the broken desk. Nero managed to hug low to the floor and was shoved back, the force stealing his breath. His still partially paralyzed muscles trembled, and the force ripped the sidearm from his numb fingers, tossing the weapon into the broken furniture at the back of the room.
Pain radiated through him. He couldn’t tell if it was Becca’s agony or his, but it didn’t matter. Everything coming from Becca screamed. Whatever her injuries, they didn’t matter. He couldn’t let Stanbury get away. Becca wouldn’t be responsible for the deaths of any more children.
Nero glanced at her. She climbed to her feet, no longer holding her Glock — it must have been ripped from her hand like his — and ran toward him. But Stanbury sneered, and the elevator doors slid shut.
40
Nero groaned and the ache in his chest shuddered, swept along his limbs, and made his muscles seize.
“Get up.” Becca offered him her hand, even though she didn’t look as if she’d be able to stay standing if she helped him up. Her essence flooded him, and he mentally clung to it to give him strength. Either Stanbury was too far away now, or her null magic spell had finally run its course. “We need to figure out where that elevator is going.”
There wasn’t enough time for that. He ignored her hand, stood — his muscles shaking even more with the effort — staggered to the elevator doors, and forced them open. His adrenaline burned through the rest of the paralysis spell and his determination — along with Becca’s — gave him extra strength.
Below them, the elevator car rushed away, more than four floors between them already.
“Climbing after her will be slower than taking the stairs.”
“We’re taking the fast rou
te.” He summoned his wind, wrapped it around them, and half-dropped, half-lowered them to the elevator’s roof.
They landed with a thunk, harder than he would have liked, but not because of the null magic — that felt as if it were completely gone — but because of the ache in his chest and Becca’s overwhelming pain.
Lightning exploded through the top of the elevator. Nero shoved Becca back and the electricity sliced through his leg and side. Agony screamed over him, his blood splattered to the elevator’s steel top, but his soul magic sealed the wound shut before he could bleed out.
Stanbury glared at him through the hole. She raised her card and sent another blast of lightning toward him. He leapt out of the way this time and the bolt shot past him, sputtering out before hitting the top of the shaft and raining down stinging sparks.
The ache of his missing dugga’s magic billowed again, stealing his breath for a second, and Becca gasped. The pain was so strong, it was now only a matter of minutes before Stanbury permanently took his magic.
Stanbury reached into her pocket to get another card even as the lightning card was still crumbling away, but Becca dropped to her knees and heaved open the hatch. Nero jumped inside the car, but it stopped and the doors swept open. Stanbury scrambled out of his reach into a cold, dark loading dock, and yanked out another card.
Son of a— Nero snapped a whip of wind at it, slicing it in half. If her magic was like other glyph-based magics, when the symbols were damaged, the spell wouldn’t work. He didn’t wait to see if it worked and bolted toward her, focusing his wind into a lasso to bind her.
His wind lashed around her, caught her hand and jerked it up, but she slapped her other hand to her hip pocket, barked a power word, and vanished with the whoosh of a rapid free gate portal.
Becca yelled, her surprise snapping through him, and he wrenched around.
Stanbury held a knife against Becca’s neck. Becca had both hands around Stanbury’s wrist, but she didn’t shove the blade away, and the weight of a paralysis spell flooded from her into him— no, not a paralysis spell. That wasn’t what Stanbury had cast on him before. It was more like a muscle control spell, forcing the spell caster’s will on the body of the unsuspecting victim.
The cards also don’t let her gate far away, Becca said, or she would have fled.
“Back up, dragon, or I’ll kill the human.” Stanbury shoved Becca out of the elevator.
“What makes you think I care?”
“Really?” Stanbury snorted and pushed Becca forward another step, the knife still tight against her throat. “You’re the dugga. You’re supposed to have killed her, and yet you haven’t. You obviously have a use for her.”
“And you’re betting that use outweighs stopping you?”
“You’ve protected her from my lightning twice in this fight.” Stanbury’s gaze raked over his charred and bloody clothes. “At your physical expense. Now back up.”
Don’t you dare. Becca glared at him.
He inched back a step and subvocalized his power word, drawing the magic to summon his wind to just under his skin, ready to burst forth.
Stanbury rolled her eyes, drew a card from her pocket, and the weight of another null magic spell swept around him. His wind vanished, but Becca’s essence didn’t, not completely this time. “How dumb do you think I am?”
Becca’s eyes narrowed, her expression tight and her will — a sensation that felt as if she was far away — straining to make her body move against Stanbury’s magic. Bites of pain nipped through Nero’s legs— no, not his legs. Becca’s. Surely that meant this null magic spell wasn’t as strong as the others, which meant it wouldn’t last as long.
That’s it. Keep straining. We just need to buy time until the spell ends.
And by that time your dugga’s magic will be hers, she said, her mental voice barely discernible. There isn’t enough time.
It’s okay. It would be all right. He didn’t know how, but he and Becca and the puzur would survive. He just needed Becca safe. That was all that mattered.
It’s not all that matters. When the heat of whatever this is between us dies down, you’ll want your family.
What I feel will never die down. That’s what it meant to be inamorated.
It doesn’t have to just be us. It can be us and them.
It will be. Mother, he wanted that, wanted Becca as part of his puzur. But if he had to pick, he’d pick her.
And I won’t let you make that choice. Fear bled from Becca into Nero, small and weak through the null magic spell, but clearly fear. If you sacrifice your dugga’s magic, Stanbury will know about the puzur. She could kidnap your kids and torture them like she did me and the other mages she kidnapped.
Nero’s heart stuttered. He couldn’t let her do that to his children, to anyone’s children. It was the reason he’d taken the dugga’s magic from his predecessor and secretly changed the Asar Nergal’s only directive. Stanbury’s torture would be worse than the quick death they’d get at the hands of Regis. Except Regis was soul sick. He might not just kill his kids, either. He might torture them, as well.
He couldn’t pick between Becca and the puzur, no matter what his soul bond was screaming. Mother, please, don’t make me pick.
A hint of wind whispered around Nero’s hands.
It’s not a choice. You can’t let Stanbury torture your kids. Summon your wind and end this bitch.
But I can’t endanger you. More wind whispered up his arms. He couldn’t lose another inamorata.
You can’t lose your kids, either. I won’t see your family hurt because of me. I won’t have more children die.
“Back up,” Stanbury growled.
Nero backed up another step. He couldn’t do anything else. The soul bond was too strong. That bombing wasn’t your fault. His throat tightened. Her pain over all those deaths was still so raw, cutting even through the null magic spell.
I know. Her expression grew sad. But if your kids die now, it will be my fault.
No. I wasn’t strong enough. I—
You are strong. Stronger than this null magic. Our connection is proof of that. She felt so far away, a ghost of what she should have been, but a determination was building within her. If Stanbury didn’t have a hostage, Nero could attack.
“I said back up,” Stanbury yelled.
Mother, no.
The ache of his lost dugga’s magic surged and he bit back a gasp. Time was almost up.
I won’t be able to control the blade. I won’t be able to fight her. Becca’s determination turned fierce.
But I won’t be able to save you. My soul magic hasn’t recovered.
I know. She screamed, the yell helping her fight past the control spell on her body.
Her grip on the knife tightened. Stanbury tensed. Becca wrenched to the side and the blade sliced across her neck.
Agony screamed through Nero across his throat, through his chest, and from his soul. Becca gasped, blood rushing over her shoulder and chest, and went limp. Stanbury barked a harsh laugh and sneered, and with a howl, Nero’s wind exploded from his hands. He shot it at Stanbury, slamming her into the cinderblock wall beside the elevator doors.
Stanbury slapped a hand to her hip pocket, but Nero, roaring, his soul wailing, shot another blast at her. Bones crunched. Stanbury shrieked.
He shot another blast. This one tightened, with all his will and soul-rending agony, into a deadly wind blade. It speared into her chest with a force he’d never been able to summon before and exposed her heart. She shrieked again, her eyes wide, blood gushing from the wound.
The ache of his dugga’s magic flared, but it was nothing to the agony of Becca’s essence draining away from him. He had to save her, somehow—
Get your God damned magic back, she gasped.
He shoved his hand into Stanbury’s chest, ripped out her beating heart and took a bite.
She howled, her hands ineffectually pressing against the gaping wound in her body and crumpled to the floor, blo
od rushing around her.
He took another bite of her heart. The ache of the dugga’s magic flared again, making his pulse roar with it. He was too late. He hadn’t been able to get the magic back, and he was going to lose his inamorata as well.
Then lightning shot through him, a burning white agony, scorching every cell in his body. Thoughts and essences flashed through him. Every member of the Asar Nergal, all the members of the puzur, and half a dozen human mages twenty blocks away. There were more human mages, a few in the city he hadn’t found yet, a few more in the country, and a few more of each, not yet fully into their power, on the other continents.
He fought to control the power and tear his focus away from the mages. He needed to save Becca. If his soul magic wouldn’t let him take on her injuries again, he needed to get her past the gatelock and get her to help.
She gasped, her hands on her throat as if that could somehow save her, and he dropped to his knees beside her.
“Hold on. I’m getting you out of here.” He pulled her into his arms and cradled her against his chest.
They’re safe?
He stood, staggering at the burn of her agony, but kept his balance. “Yes, they’re safe.” Everyone is but you.
It’s okay. Just hold me. I know this wound. I’m not going to make it past the gatelock, let alone out the door.
“It’s not okay.” Mother, it was never going to be okay. His soul was already shattering. He wasn’t going to survive the death of another inamorata. She had to make it past the lock.
You know I won’t, and you will survive this. For your kids. A ghost of a smile pulled at her lips. That’s the deal.
“I didn’t agree to that.”
And I didn’t agree to you giving up everything because of me.
“How many times do I have to tell you before you’ll believe it? That’s how being inamorated works.” He would sacrifice anything for her. His soul had picked. He’d never thought he’d have the solid strength of a soul bond again, and he couldn’t lose it. He could barely stand to see her in pain, to feel her pain—