Crimson Wind

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  Giselle convulsed, her body flailing. Niko and Tyler held her firmly as magic whipped them, leaving behind red welts and blisters. Max struggled to stand, and Thor steadied her as she swayed. She closed on Giselle, grasping the witch’s face between her raw hands, bending to get close in her face.

  “Stop it. Giselle! Get your shit together before you kill us all!”

  Her voice was thick and rasping. Magic writhed over her arms and up her shoulders. She did not seem to notice. Her attention was fixed on the witch. Giselle’s eyes flickered.

  “That’s right. Wake up and shut this down,” Max urged. “Come on, now. Remember, I get to be the one to kill you. Are you trying to commit suicide before I can do so?”

  “Fat chance,” Giselle whispered, and her eyes opened wide. She sat up. Her mouth pulled into a thin line, her face skeletal beneath the pale wrapping of skin. She had nearly drained herself to death fending off the attacks four weeks ago, and her recovery had been slow, despite the healing help of Xaphan.

  She struggled to climb to her feet. Niko helped her. Stepping away, she clenched her hands, pulling them tight together between her breasts. Taking a long, unsteady breath, she pushed them out before her. As before, the magic chasing around her body slid down to ball around her fists. There was less of it now than there had been inside the anneau floor. Alexander held his breath.

  Giselle brought her fists down sharply at her sides, flattening her hands and pointing her fingers toward the ground. She shouted a word that hammered Alexander’s skull and sent him reeling. He fell against Tutresiel. The angel shoved him away. Alexander caught himself against the wall and spun about. Tutresiel watched him, his red eyes shining brilliantly, daring Alexander to attack.

  “Later,” Alexander mouthed, and then turned back to Max and Giselle. The smothering press of magic was gone.

  Giselle stood inside a patch of burning carpet. Black smoke billowed as the thick pad beneath caught.

  “Get her out of here,” Max said, coughing.

  Tyler swung the witch into his arms and carried her out into the foyer area. Niko and Alexander grabbed Max, picking her up between them.

  “Can you put that fire out?” she asked Tutresiel as Alexander and Niko set her back on her feet, continuing to steady her as she swayed.

  “It is magic fire. Xaphan must do it. Or a witch.”

  Max looked at Thor. “Go find him.”

  Thor took off at a dead run. Dense black smoke squeezed from the cracks surrounding the now-closed doors. It stank of chemicals and made Alexander’s throat and nose burn.

  “Tutresiel, wait here. When Xaphan’s done, bring him. Giselle will need healing. We’d better keep moving before the smoke kills us,” Max said to the others, shaking off Niko and Alexander.

  The two men exchanged annoyed glances and followed. Tyler led the way with Giselle.

  “Where to?” he asked Max.

  Alexander answered. “Dining commons. You need to eat and heal,” he said unapologetically when Max scowled at him. “Giselle could use something to eat and drink as well.”

  “Fine,” she said.

  She brushed away offers of aid, though clearly she was hurting more than a little. Typical. She never took help unless she had no other choice. He suppressed the urge to help her anyway. She might take it as a Prime challenge, and just at the moment, she might not be able to beat him.

  The memory of Magpie’s prophecy swept over him, and his skin went cold. He pulled away, falling back to walk behind.

  The dining commons was empty except for Magpie. Alexander could hear her in the kitchen. The scent of baking bread and garlic filled the air. A cold buffet table ran down one side of the serving area, and two hot tables were on the other side. A beverage bar sat in one corner, and chairs and tables were scattered through the large space. Pillars and screens lent an air of privacy here and there.

  Tyler set Giselle gently on a chair. She slumped, her eyes half closed. Her chestnut hair was pulled back from her face. Her face was pale and bruised-looking, and her clothes looked like they belonged on a much larger woman. Still, she emanated authority and power. Max slid into a chair beside her.

  Niko went to let Magpie know they were there, and Alexander filled two glasses with apple juice and set them on the table before the two women.

  “Drink.”

  He did not wait for a reply, but started gathering food from the buffet for Max. He stacked it on a tray and set it in front of her. Her glass was empty, and Giselle had at least sipped from hers.

  Wordlessly, he refilled the glass and then fetched a milkshake from the machine. He gave it to Giselle.

  “That looks good,” Max said, eyeing it longingly.

  “Your wish is my command,” he said, and went to get her one.

  “Why don’t I believe that?” she said, rolling the cold glass he handed her between her palms and sucking from the straw. “Oh, holy night, that feels good,” she said. “Cold.”

  Her skin was healing, and she no longer looked quite so raw. He sat down and Niko followed suit. Tyler remained standing behind Giselle to catch her if she started to fall.

  “What the hell was that?” Max said, opening up a sub sandwich. Her voice was deceptively calm. “Are you trying to kill yourself? Because no need to go to all that trouble. Say the word, and I’ll do it for you. With pleasure.”

  Giselle grimaced. “I thought you got over the whole hate-my-guts thing.”

  “Over you enslaving me and turning me into your own personal pit bull? Not so much, no. I just decided there were more important things to deal with. For now, anyway. Who knows what joys the future will bring? Like maybe pulling your lungs out through your nose. So were you just redecorating the place? Seems a little extreme. We just finished rebuilding in there. You could have waited a while before destroying it again.”

  Alexander saw Max rub her left arm surreptitiously—the same arm she had been favoring since she had come out of Scooter’s den. What had the creature done to her? His jaw tightened with frustration. The chances of her telling him were zero, if not less.

  “Sorry, I’m fickle,” Giselle said.

  The corners of Max’s mouth lifted in a reluctant smile. “So what happened? If you wanted to burn me to a crisp, you could have sent me out into the sun.”

  “Sorry.”

  Max’s brows rose. “You’ve done worse to me. No sense feeling sorry about it now.”

  “But now—I was trying to scry,” Giselle said. “I wanted to know exactly what was going on in Winters.”

  “Should have asked me. I can save you the trouble. The place is under siege by shape-shifting creatures.”

  Her tone was devoid of any emotion, but Alexander could see her sinking inside herself. The ability to do that—to separate her feelings from her mind and body—made her terribly strong, but it also terrified him, because it always meant she was about to take on serious trouble, maybe more than she could handle. He corrected himself: probably more than she could handle.

  “Your contacts told you that? So fast?” Giselle stared in surprise.

  Max shook her head. “Scooter showed me.”

  “Right. Scooter,” Giselle said, and her mouth pulled down. “What did you see?”

  “Smoke. Shape-shifters. My whole family is at the orchard. They’re trapped. Maybe dead by now.” Her phone chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket. “It’s a text. From Jim. He watches the place for me.” She flipped open her phone and read it. Her expression did not change. “Nothing new. He’s going to try to circle around to the lakeside and go down to the house.”

  “Will he make it?” Giselle asked.

  Max shrugged. “He’s a hex witch—circle level.”

  Giselle eyed her, clearly wondering where Max had met Jim and how many other powerful friends she was keeping secret. “You’ll have to go. Tonight.”

  Max stared down at her phone for a long moment. She went rigid, and her mouth was rimmed white. The tendons in her neck cord
ed. Her breathing quickened, and her body shook, her burned hands clenching on the table. Finally, she shook her head. “Can’t.” She slumped against the table, panting raggedly. “Fucking compulsion spells aren’t going to let me leave you. ’Specially not when you’re in this shape.” She waved her fingers at Giselle.

  “Yes, you can. I promised you that you could get them, and that’s what you’re going to do.”

  “Yeah? Going to take these damned spells off me?”

  “You know better. But I’ve got the angels and Oz and your Blades and the Spears. They’ll be enough.”

  “Not enough to talk down these damned compulsion spells. I won’t survive ten miles.”

  “But all the same, you will go, and you will survive.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who’s going to knock your ass out of the fire when your magic gets the best of you? Not that we don’t all want the chance to smack you around, but I’m the only one who can cross a circle and live.”

  “You almost sound like you care what happens to me.”

  “I do. If something happens to you, then Horngate implodes, which means people I care about will die.”

  “I’m touched.”

  “And apparently the potency of the compulsion spells increase exponentially once you decide your witch-bitch master shouldn’t die screaming after all. At least, not yet.”

  “Aw. That’s so sweet. Almost like a Hallmark card. But let me make it real simple for you. If you don’t go, then I will. I’ll sneak off without anyone to guard me. So you can decide. You go tonight, or I do.”

  Niko’s chair scraped back suddenly, and he lunged to his feet. Tyler stood on the other side of Giselle, his jaw jutting as he spun his knife in his fingers. At Giselle’s threat, their Blades had risen back to a killing edge. Their compulsion spells would not like the threat of their witch leaving the safety of the covenstead, especially in her weakened condition.

  Neither Giselle nor Max paid any attention to them. The witch’s gaze was fixed on Max, who leaned over the table, her hands braced flat as she glared down at Giselle.

  “Why? It makes no sense. With all the Guardian attacks, it isn’t exactly safe out there, and you have told me time and again how much you need me.” She slowly sat back down, her fingers drumming on the table. “Of course, if I stay here, then I go to Scooter. You have me on borrowed time either way.”

  “I promised you that you could bring your family back here to safety,” Giselle said.

  “You don’t give a shit about promises. You’re all about the bottom line, and going after my family doesn’t add anything to Horngate.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Giselle smiled mysteriously. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Max sat forward. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “So many things. And none of them is any of your business.”

  At that moment, Thor came in with Xaphan close behind. The fire angel was as tall as Tutresiel and shared the crimson eyes and perfect physique, but that’s where their likeness ended. Xaphan’s hair was short and white, and his expression was slightly gentler than his steel-winged cousin. He wore jeans, and his chest was as bare as his feet. His wings were iridescent black—like oil—and blue and orange flames licked the edges.

  He eyed the group around the table, smiling at Max, who returned the greeting with a tight smile of her own that faded as quickly as it appeared.

  “This isn’t really about my family at all,” she said slowly. “This is about Horngate. You’ve had a vision. That’s why you want me to go.”

  Giselle smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “If it makes you feel better to think so, then sure.”

  Max scraped her burned fingers through her charred hair. “Can’t you give me a straight answer for once?”

  “What would be the fun in that? It’s so much more entertaining to jerk the string and watch you pounce on the catnip.”

  “One of these days, I will kill you,” Max said, her eyes glittering.

  “You’ll try. One more thing. Take Alexander with you.”

  At the mention of his name, Alexander started and stared.

  “What? Why? What’s he got to do with this?”

  “Call it precaution. If he goes with you, then he can’t take Prime while you’re gone.”

  Neither woman looked at him. He might as well have been on the moon. Fury twisted into a hot tornado inside him. He held himself still, waiting to hear the rest. He was not impulsive like Max. He liked to know what he was getting into before he jumped into the fire.

  “You haven’t bound him to Horngate,” Max said to Giselle. “He can’t be Prime.”

  Giselle snorted. “Don’t underestimate him. He’s strong and he’s motivated. Being Prime is in his nature. He won’t be able to help himself, and if he takes it far enough, I’ll have to bind him.”

  “Far enough?’

  “Taking over while you’re gone. Killing you when you return.”

  “You think he’d beat me? Your confidence in me is underwhelming. I’m so flattered. Anyhow, if he is better than I am, you should want him to be your Prime. Only the best for you, right?”

  Giselle’s mouth tightened, and she spoke quietly, her words as hard as iron. “I’ve told you before—I only want you. Horngate needs you. And I’d be very surprised if you didn’t beat him in a challenge. But it is a risk I don’t intend to take. I searched for you too long and worked too hard to make you. He’s not worth nearly what you are to me.”

  “And so he shoots me in the back of the head when I’ve got my back turned. My family is fucked and I’m dead. I’m better off going alone.”

  Alexander thrust to his feet, ready to protest Max’s accusation, but the look both women directed at him sealed his lips before he could speak. This was part of their ongoing war. He sat back down, crossing his ankles out before him and folding his hands with a look of casual ease. Inside, anger burned white-hot. Soon he was going to have his say. He was not a toy for their tug-of-war.

  “You need someone to help you, and if I know you, you’ll refuse anyone else, even if it kills you. So as not to rob Horngate of defenders if the Guardians attack again. Am I wrong?”

  Max made a face and gave a grudging shake of her head. Score for Giselle. But Max wasn’t done. “So I take him with me, and what? Let’s suppose he doesn’t stab me in the back. What then? Do you want me to take him out? Hell of a way to pay him back for all he’s done for Horngate. Anyhow, I told you before, you claimed him, which makes him one of my Blades. I don’t abandon my own.”

  Giselle looked up at the ceiling, fury knotting her hands. She gusted a sigh, and Max grinned ferally. Alexander’s lips curved along a knife edge. She wasn’t easy, that was for certain. But she made him want to toss her over his shoulder and drag her back to his quarters like a caveman.

  “Here’s the deal. Since he’s been here, you’ve been jumpy as hell. There’s clearly something between you, whether you want to admit it or not, and you need to settle it. You need your focus. Look at you—you look like hell. It’s eating you alive and has been since he got here. Right now, he could probably snap you in half with his pinkies.”

  “Of course, you trying to burn me alive couldn’t possibly have anything to do with how I look,” Max muttered. She pointedly did not mention Scooter.

  “You’ve been looking like crap for weeks, and you know it. I need you to get your shit together.”

  “And he has to be the reason, because nothing else is going on around here, like, say, for instance, the near total destruction of the covenstead and the end of the world? Besides, what do you think I’m going to do? Go all Ophelia over him?”

  Giselle shook her head and laughed, then pressed her hand against her side and coughed. Max glanced at Xaphan, motioning with her head. He stepped behind Giselle and settled his hands on her shoulders. She tried to shake him off, but his fingers tightened and she sat still, her expression sour as he began to pour healing energy into her. Alexander bit back his chortle a
t her annoyance, then gave a wry shake of his head. Max’s attitude about the witch was catching.

  Suddenly Giselle pushed herself to her feet, despite Xaphan. “You take him with you. He’s too much of a threat here. Make sure he knows his place, and if he can’t learn it, take him out. I don’t need him coming back to cause trouble. If you do bring him back, get whatever’s between the two of you sorted out. Consider it an order.”

  The witch’s glance swept Alexander. He looked back through sleepy eyes. Her mouth tightened. He smiled.

  “Did you hit your head or something?” Max said. “Four weeks ago, you let Selange walk out of here unharmed. A territory witch. Compared to her, Alexander is a cuddly puppy. Selange hates us, and she has a full coven to back her. I’d be worrying about her. As for him and me, there’s nothing between us.”

  “I have my reasons for releasing Selange,” Giselle said. “Not that it’s any of your business. As for the two of you, I’m not stupid. You nearly explode whenever you’re within twenty feet of each other. I almost have to smoke a cigarette when you leave the room. I’m sure everyone here would say the same.”

  Not a single person—man or angel—so much as twitched when Max’s razor gaze scraped over them. When she looked at Alexander, he felt the heat flash between them like a lightning strike. His skin fairly sizzled. She turned away, her cheeks flushing.

  She shrugged. “What can I say? He’s pretty to look at, and yeah, I wouldn’t mind having a ride on his merry-go-round, but I’m not pining away. I don’t mess around with the men in the covenstead. You know that.”

  “So what’s turning you into a ghost?” Giselle demanded.

  Max’s lips curved maliciously. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

  The witch’s eyes narrowed. “I need you healthy. Something’s wrong. Fix it.”

  Max touched her forehead in a mock salute. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Giselle’s mouth twisted, and then she turned and stalked out. Xaphan winked at Max, then followed.