So if Magpie’s prophecy really was true, then something else must happen to her. There had to be a way to stop it. Even if he had to reveal the prophecy to Niko, Max’s second in command. He grimaced. That would go over well. Niko was insanely loyal to Max. He would kill Alexander before he could get a chance to become Prime. Or the little bastard would try.
Alexander’s mouth twisted with brutal humor. He was not so easy to kill. Max, on the other hand, found trouble the way bears found honey. She needed a keeper, and not even a coven full of witches, Shadowblades, and Sunspears seemed able to do the job. But they would damned well have to do a better job now, or they would lose her.
He shoved himself away from the door and stripped off his pants before stepping into the shower. He turned on the cold water.
The amulet is coming to you. It will give you your heart’s desire. You will be Prime.
His heart’s desire? What was that? He longed to be a part of Horngate—no other coven would have him, and he never wanted to go back to Selange, his former witch. Not that she would have him. But it was not just that he had nowhere else to go; there was something special about Horngate. Part of it was Max and the loyalty she inspired. Part of it was Giselle—as ruthless and brutal as she was, she cared about the people of her covenstead more than she cared about power and prestige. He had never met another witch like her.
It took balls of steel to refuse to serve the Guardians, and she had. When all of the other territory witches were called upon to serve as generals in the war to destroy most of humanity and return magic back to the stagnating earth, she had refused, and the Guardians had sent two angels—Xaphan and Tutresiel—to destroy her and Horngate. But she had survived, and now the angels served her. It was a testimony to her power as a witch and her leadership. She also recognized that she needed help—without Max, without everyone laying themselves completely on the line, the place would have been destroyed.
You will be Prime.
He twisted the water off and got out of the shower, toweling himself off roughly before dressing in black jeans and a white T-shirt. Out of long habit, he slid his phone into his pocket and a knife into his waistband. He started for the door, not entirely sure what he planned to do.
At that moment, he felt the power of Max roll through him. Her Prime was fully roused. He nearly ripped the door off its hinges as he plunged into the corridor, unleashing his own Prime as he did, no longer caring what anyone might think. Protecting Max from whatever was out to kill her meant he needed to quit cowering in a corner and start acting like what he was. In a split second, the predator inside him rose to a killing edge. Smells and sounds sharpened. His muscles tightened, and he rolled onto the balls of his feet, his knees flexing. Power cascaded off him in palpable waves.
In moments he was joined by the other Blades, all in various stages of undress, most carrying weapons.
The power of Max’s Prime filled the corridor. Alexander could almost smell it.
Niko eyed Alexander warily, his body taut. Alexander could see him brace against the thrust of Alexander’s Prime. Like Max, he was about five foot seven, except he was built like a tree stump, with broad shoulders, powerfully muscled legs, and a square, blunt-featured face. His skin was naturally tanned, though not as dark as Alexander’s, and his black hair was tousled.
Beside him stood Tyler. He was slender and graceful, with blond hair and a rakish three musketeers type of beard and mustache. He spun a knife in his fingers, and Alexander knew he could drill it through an enemy’s throat in the space of a heartbeat. His hazel eyes were diamond hard, and, like everyone else in the corridor, his Blade had risen to the killing edge.
He and Niko were close to becoming Primes themselves, as was Thor. He stood near the stairs. He was an inch or so taller than Alexander, with shaggy blond hair that hung to his shoulders. His face was lean, with a square jaw, and his eyes were stormy blue. He wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt and a pair of threadbare Levi’s. He met Alexander’s gaze with a slight nod. It did not pay to be too friendly with his former Prime.
“Anybody know where she is?” Niko demanded. There was naked accusation in his eyes as he looked at Alexander.
There was a chorus of noes, and Alexander jerked his head in the negative. A thought whispered in his mind: Is this it? Is this how she dies? He crushed it. No.
“Scatter,” Niko ordered. “Search the mountain. Call when you find her. Then I’m going to fucking kill her,” he muttered as he started away.
All seven did as they were told. Alexander lunged up the stairs, hard on Niko’s heels, with Tyler and Thor just behind. They split at the cross corridor and then again. Alexander followed a path he could barely sense—a feeling of increasing strength as he drew closer.
His helpless fury grew as he hunted. What the hell was she doing? How could he keep her safe if she did not tell anyone when she was doing something dangerous and stupid? And what could be so dangerous inside the covenstead?
Realization struck him like a sledgehammer. “Mother fucking night,” he grated aloud, reaching for his phone. He speed-dialed Niko.
“What?” came the other man’s terse response.
“The vault. She went down into the damned vault. She is giving herself up to the bastard.”
Alexander snapped his phone shut before Niko could respond, then flung it against the wall in fury. He began to run in earnest.
He raced through the main hall to the top of the entrance leading down into Scooter’s vault. He remembered the creature—it had appeared as a man, but it was far more than that. It had held a territorial witch and fourteen Shadowblades in thrall without any effort at all. It wanted Max, and she had just walked in and given herself up without a word to anyone. Alexander was going to break her neck. He did not let himself think about what Scooter might do to her.
The vault was at the bottom of a deep shaft. Alexander leaped down to the first landing, swung through the turn, and leaped again. He had gone halfway when he stumbled to a halt. A chill ran through him.
The invisible trail of Max’s Prime vanished like it had never existed. Alexander snarled and launched himself downward again. He caught the scent of her—the metallic, corrosive smell of the Uncanny mixed with a rich bittersweet flavor, like the darkest chocolate twined with a tang of winter snowmelt and the faintest hint of honey. It was a scent that was purely Max. Alexander tasted her on his tongue and jumped the last forty feet down into the open shaft at the center of the stairs.
He landed in a crouch, one hand on the floor. He scanned the room. The vault was a round room cut into the heart of the mountain. Veins of crystal, gems, and metals streaked across the polished floor and walls. A shimmering barrier of magic hung across the middle, cutting the room in half and separating the stairway from a dilapidated door on the other side of the stone room. It appeared to be made of scraps of wood, as if a mild breeze would blow it to pieces. Alexander knew better. That door was made of magic and opened only when its maker—the extraordinarily powerful creature Max had mockingly dubbed Scooter—chose to allow it.
He stood and turned to the wall beside the stairs, where a yellow starburst of quartz gleamed brightly on the wall. He slapped his hand against it and the ward within deactivated. The curtain vanished. The smell of Divine magic permeated the air—at once acrid and warmly mellow. He started across the room, jerking to a halt when Niko grabbed his arm and spun him around. He had been so intent on his purpose that he had not heard the other man arrive.
Niko flinched from the animal rage in Alexander’s eyes but did not let go.
“Wait for the others,” he said, then carefully lifted his hand. “I’m not your enemy. Not at the moment, anyway.”
Alexander’s lip curled. “If you keep me from helping Max, then you sure as hell are.”
“She didn’t invite any of us to her party.”
Alexander stared. This was not like Niko. “Does she ever invite you to the bad ones?” His attention moved inexorably back t
o the door. “She does what she has to to keep you safe, even if it means walking into a death trap. She is in trouble.”
“She’s in trouble a lot. She can handle it.” But Niko did not sound convinced.
“You are stalling.”
The other man winced. “I’m being smart. We can’t do this alone. I’m hoping a little help will show up.”
Alexander’s mouth flattened. As powerful a creature as Scooter was, he did not know if a hundred Blades could help Max. His jaw tightened. You are the gift and the answer. I will wait for your return, and we will walk the web roads together. Those had been Scooter’s last words to Max four weeks ago. Alexander remembered them vividly. Her expression when she heard the words had been fatalistic and annoyed, as if she did not entirely know what they meant, but she was willing to pay any price, since it meant protecting Horngate. At the time, she had no doubt been certain of dying in battle, and she had probably figured the point hardly worth considering. But she had survived, and now—what gift and answer was Scooter expecting Max to be?
You will be Prime.
His stomach churned, and he ground his teeth together, feeling them crack, the momentary flicker of pain flashing through his jaws. I have to get her back. The need was raw, like a bloody wound, and astonishing in its intensity.
A soft metallic sound made them both jerk around. Behind them, Tutresiel seemed to emerge from nowhere. The angel flexed his silver wings, the knife-edged feathers gleaming.
“Where did you come from?” Niko demanded.
“I’ve been here since before you arrived.”
“I didn’t see you.”
Tutresiel smiled thinly. “I didn’t choose for you to
do so.”
Niko’s mouth twisted and he looked as if he dearly wanted to put his fist through the angel’s face. Alexander agreed wholeheartedly. Unlike Xaphan, Tutresiel made a point of being rude and abrasive.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Tutresiel shifted his red gaze to Alexander. “Waiting. Witnessing.”
“Max told you to come?” Niko’s lip curled and his face flushed hot. If there was one creature he liked less than Alexander, it was Tutresiel.
Not that Alexander could disagree, at least with the sentiment. Why call the angel? Tutresiel did not give a damn about her. Why not call one of her Blades? Or him?
The memory of the two kisses they had shared flooded his mind, and his body stirred in instant response. He shoved it away. This was no time for distraction.
The angel shook his head. “She told me she was coming here in case she did not return, so that someone would know. I chose to wait.”
Alexander’s jaw knotted. “You let her go in alone, knowing she thought she would not come back?”
“It was her choice. She could have sent me.” The angel made an uncharacteristic shrug. “I told her she should.”
“You could have volunteered,” Niko pointed out through clenched teeth.
Again the shrug. “She didn’t want my help. Said it was her problem, and he’d kill me anyhow, so she’d have to go in herself eventually. She said it would be a waste.”
Fury snatched Alexander in a bone-crushing grip. He did not think. His hands locked together and he smashed Tutresiel’s chest with a hammer blow. The angel crashed against the wall. Alexander ducked beneath a whistling whir of silver death, rolling under Tutresiel’s slashing wing. Rock shards and sparks flew as the metal feathers chiseled through the wall. Alexander slammed into Tutresiel’s knees and the angel tumbled over him. Silver feathers sliced into Alexander’s back, scraping bone. Blood streamed down his back. He hardly felt the pain. He leaped to his feet, jumping high out of the way as Tutresiel’s wings flayed the air where he had been.
He landed, and the angel caught him around the neck, speed blurring his hand. Tutresiel hoisted Alexander into the air. His feet dangled a foot above the ground. The angel was smiling like a cobra, his red eyes glistening. His wings fanned forward, each feather rapier sharp. His head tilted slightly to the side. “Are we going to play a game together, then?”
His fingers squeezed, and his wings curved around to brush Alexander’s sides. His T-shirt shredded under the light pressure, and blood ran in ribbons down his skin. Alexander could not breathe. In the throes of rage, he did not care. His stomach muscles clenched. He swung his legs up, bracing against the angel’s hold as he ran his feet up Tutresiel’s chest and kicked him in the chin. Tutresiel’s head jerked back with a cracking sound. At the same time, Alexander used his telekinesis to force the angel’s fingers apart. He dropped to the ground, rolling backward to his feet and sucking in deep breaths.
Tutresiel was already coming at him, his smile wider now, his red eyes gleaming with delight. Alexander crouched to spring up into the air, but before he could, Niko and Tyler grabbed his arms and shoved him back against the wall, their bodies a pitiful wall against Tutresiel’s menace.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Niko demanded as he strained against Alexander’s struggles. “He’s a fucking angel. And he’s a member of Horngate.”
You’re not. The unspoken words hung in the air like lit dynamite.
“He needs a lesson in loyalty.” Alexander’s fury boiled hotter as the truth burrowed through his chest. He had no place here. His face contorted. He would be damned if they made him leave. He would make them give him a place here.
His hands clenched. He kicked out, and his foot rammed flesh. Tyler made a guttural sound and buried his fist in Alexander’s gut. Fire spread along his ribs as bones fractured.
“One of these days soon, you and I are going to have a serious talk,” Tyler said, shifting position and locking his arm around Alexander’s neck in an iron chokehold.
“Anytime. The sooner, the better,” Alexander rasped, never looking away from the angel. He did not have the strength or concentration to use his telekinesis on his two captors. It was a recent talent, and he was still learning to use it. Nor did he want a fight with them and Tutresiel. He would not win that battle.
“I think it is you who’s in need of a lesson,” Tutresiel crooned softly, his eyes crimson slits, his wings fluttering with a chiming sound. “Do you really think you can take me on and win?”
“I was holding my own,” Alexander growled, jerking against the arms holding him. His healing spells had already repaired his ribs and back. He dragged Niko and Tyler a couple of feet before they hauled him to a stop. His Prime was savage and wanted blood.
“Only because I chose not to skewer you.” Tutresiel rolled his head on his neck as if to loosen tense muscles, and his wings folded forward again, the razor feathers clashing together like two huge sword fans. Anything caught between would be shredded apart. “But do keep trying. I have been so bored these last few weeks. Killing you would be fun.” His lips widened in a death’s-head smile.
A hand fell on Alexander’s shoulder, and Thor moved in front of him, blocking his view of the angel. “Easy, old son,” Thor drawled with his Texas twang. “You can’t kill him. Don’t waste yourself on that son of a bitch.”
Alexander stared into Thor’s intent blue eyes. For a moment, he hated his friend with every fiber of his being. Hated him for being accepted to Horngate and hated him for being right. As much as he wanted to kill someone right now, it was pointless to fight Tutresiel. Slowly, he reeled himself in.
Niko and Tyler felt his withdrawal and let go, stepping back warily. His lips peeled from his teeth in an animal snarl. Good. He was not so weak or tame as they thought. You will be Prime. That was exactly their fear, and now they had seen for themselves that he was capable of battling Max, perhaps winning. His exhibition with Tutresiel would not endear him to anyone. His chin thrust out. Fuck them.
“I am going to get her. Come or not, as you please.”
He shoved past all of them and went to the dilapidated door. He gripped the handle and yanked. It broke off and dissolved into a handful of blue sparks. They burned through
his hand and the smell of burning flesh filled the chamber. He began ripping at the boards. They pulled away and dissolved. Blue sparks spun through the air, falling on his skin and burrowing through him like tiny stars, dying where they fell on the stone floor. More hands joined his. First Niko, then Tyler and Thor.
The stink of scorched hair and flesh thickened, and still they worked. For every board they removed, another sprouted in its place.
Suddenly an iron hand grasped Alexander by the collar and flung him backward. “Out of my way, cockroach.”
The incandescent white light of Tutresiel’s sword flared as Alexander flew across the vault. The air burst from his lungs as he slammed against the wall. He slid to the floor, his head reeling. He touched the back of his skull. His fingers came away bloody. Gritting his teeth, he climbed clumsily to his feet, swaying dizzily as he tried to catch his balance, feeling his healing spells going to work to knit his fractured skull.
“Stand back,” Tutresiel advised the others.
His wings fanned wide as he slashed at the door. A resounding boom shook the mountain, and a wave of power smashed into Alexander. He dropped to his knees, his fingers curving against the floor to hold him in place as magic raked his skin. Then a fine mist of blue descended, and his body was on fire.
He ignored the pain and burns, his vision curling black as magic seared his eyes. He got to his feet, stalking past Tutresiel and running his hands over the scarred stone of the vault wall. The door was gone. Tutresiel’s sword had left a shallow groove in the rock where it had been. Holy fucking night. The sword should have had more effect.
Helplessness warred with molten fury in Alexander’s chest. Damn her for going alone. His hands flexed and tightened into fists. If she were here, he would strangle her.
He turned to Niko. “Get Xaphan. His battle fire will melt the wall.”
“And bring down the mountain. Giselle won’t like that.”
Crimson Wind Page 3