by Eileen Wilks
Jiri shook her head. "So wasteful, Tommy. You really must learn to plan ahead. A sorcerer—he is still alive, isn't he?—has obvious uses."
"Not if he's busy trying to kill us… though I suppose we might find a way to cure him of it. Or She may be able to. But why bother? She only needs the sensitive."
"It may be years before She locates the Codex and can copy it. In the meantime, She's shut out of this realm, and our power is limited."
They were after the Codex. No surprise that the Great Bitch was aware of its return, but what did that have to do with Lily?
Cordoba stroked her arm. "You hope to find something in the Codex to free yourself, don't you, queridal It's not possible, but you'll work so hard to find it. And when you do, you'll tell me."
"Don't gloat, sugar. It makes your eyes look beady." Jiri shifted the sleeping child gently, moving her to her other shoulder. She saw Rule watching and gave him a lazy smile. "Poor Rule. He's so confused. Why don't we explain it all to him? I think he deserves to know."
Cordoba cracked a small smile. "What did he do to make you so angry? If it amuses you, though…" His hand drifted to her ass. "You see how good I can be to you?"
She laughed low in her throat. "You're good for many things, Tommy. Maybe I will forgive you for the binding… eventually." She tilted her head, looking at Rule again. "You weren't surprised when I mentioned the Codex."
"You aren't the only one who knows about it."
"You see, Tommy?" she said without looking away from Rule. "There's information we wouldn't have had if we'd killed him right away. Do you want to know why we need Lily, Rule Turner?"
His mouth was dry. "Yes."
"It's the goddess who needs her, actually. Apparently the Codex is guarded in some way that will make it difficult to access once it's in Her possession. So She needs to make a copy, one without the built-in defenses. But it seems there's only one… what shall we call it? Receptacle. Only one type of receptacle suitable to hold the Codex Arcanum. A sensitive with her mind wiped clean—"
"—not going to tell you again, Turner," Cordoba was saying. "I've no pressing reason not to kill you now. Jiri may think She has some use for you, but I doubt it. I'd have her get Tish to do it. He likes to pull things apart."
The side of Rule's head, from crown to jaw, ached fiercely. His brain felt like mush, and his shoulders were on fire… because he was hanging inches off the ground, held up by the demon's grip on his arms.
He'd been struck, he realized through the fog of pain. He must have done something, tried to get at Cordoba.
And failed. They were going to wipe Lily's mind clean, and he'd failed her. Again. He closed his eyes and could have sworn he smelled the stale, dry air of hell. For a moment he was there in that moonless realm once more, and losing the moon's song was like losing breath yet still living. He hadn't died. He'd kept going, kept trying to breathe when there was no air for his soul—
"Rule?" Lily's voice was urgent.
He shuddered back to the present. "I'm…" His voice came out slurred. He'd bitten his tongue when he was hit, and it was swollen. He swallowed bloody saliva. "I'm okay. More or less."
Abruptly his feet hit the ground, landing hard enough that his knees started to buckle.
Cordoba looked at Jiri. "I didn't tell you to have Tish lower him."
Jiri wasn't looking at him, but behind Rule and his mountainous captor. "I saw something moving. I thought—"
He took two steps and slapped her hard enough to rock her back a step. "You didn't ask. Thinking is fine—I encourage you to think—but always ask, Jiri. Always."
Blood dripped from her lip, badly split from his blow. She looked at him without expression. The little girl in her arms never stirred. "Two of them got away. They could be circling back."
"Very well. We should make sure of them. But I want Tish here." He glanced over his shoulder. The two red-eyes rose and loped off.
The others weren't all dead. Two had gotten away. Hope stirred in Rule—and so did the mantles. Already restless, they seemed to be pulling at him as if they wanted something of him. Action, yes, they wanted him to take action… but it felt as if there was a specific action he should take.
"My arms are tired," Jiri said abruptly.
"Already weary of motherhood, queridaT
"My arms ache." She bent, placing the little girl carefully on the ground, making sure the blanket stayed wrapped around her.
"We'll be going inside in a moment anyway. I don't think the others are out there—the tzmai haven't found them, and I don't hear anything." Cordoba looked at the winged creature. "I suppose I should send Melli up to make sure."
"Best secure the sorcerer first. Make sure he isn't feigning unconsciousness." Jiri rubbed her arms, then sauntered toward Lily, Cynna, and their guards.
"I don't think I'll keep him," Cordoba said. "Too much trouble."
"As you wish, of course. But if the bindings I've been working on prove effective—"
"You think you can bind him, even without his cooperation?" That caught Cordoba's attention. "You've made some progress, but the woman used to be your apprentice. You've no such entry with the sorcerer."
"It will take awhile," she agreed. "You may not wish me to spend so much time on the project. But at least I won't have to work on him astrally, as I did with Cynna. And if we remove his hands and tongue, he shouldn't be too troublesome a guest.",
"He'll grow them back… but we could keep removing them until you had him bound."
"Or until I find that I can't bind him." She stopped in front of Cynna. "Such loathing," she said lightly. "But aren't you happy to find you were right? Aside from a lingering case of maternal devotion, I am evil." She looked at Cordoba. "Shall we see if my binding works with this one? We can always shoot her if it doesn't."
Bile rose in Rule's throat, burning. So did rage: hard, red, and caustic. He needed to—had to—
Change. He had to Change.
He shook his head. It wouldn't help. He'd be free of the demon's grip, yes—nothing could hold on to him during the Change. But the disorientation was too strong for the first second or two immediately afterward. The demon would simply grab him again before he could move.
"Yes," Cordoba said decisively. "If it doesn't work, I won't bother keeping the sorcerer. If it does, though… go ahead. See what you can do with her."
"I'll need her hand." She held hers out.
"You're lying," Cynna said, her head high. "You can't bind me without my consent."
"I made you ride, didn't I?" Jiri looked at the guards. "Well? I need her right hand. Find some other way to secure her while I work."
"Do it," Cordoba said.
One of the guards held a gun to Cynna's head while the other one unfastened the handcuffs and jerked her left arm into a modified half nelson.
"Hold out your hand, Cynna," Jiri said.
"Go to hell, Jiri."
Jiri made an impatient noise. "Tommy, I need Beecher to hold her hand out and steady for me. Surely one guard is sufficient for the sensitive."
"No. By now she realizes we don't want to kill her. She might try something."
"She's handcuffed. Make her lie down on her stomach and threaten her lover if she moves."
Cordoba hesitated, but gave the orders. Rule was beginning to wonder… Jiri was bound to the man, but she was twice as smart. She seemed to be getting everything she wanted from him.
A few moments later Lily lay on her stomach in the dead grass. One of the Az& still guarded her, but the other fought to bring Cynna's arm forward. It took him a few moments, but he managed to hold her hand out, palm up.
"Good." Jiri rested her own hand on top of Cynna's. "Be ready to hold her up," she added. "She'll probably collapse."
"You didn't," Cordoba said.
"I consented." Jiri closed her eyes. She whispered something in that other language, the words soft and singsong. Cynna's eyes widened—then rolled back in her head. She went limp.
And the demon let go of Rule.
Pain roared from his shoulders down to his fingers in a white-hot sheet. But he didn't move his arms, though his abused muscles trembled and twitched with the strain of holding them back. He prayed desperately he was right—
"Did it work?" Cordoba demanded. "Wake her up. Make her… oh, make her kill the one Melli has pinned. Not the sorcerer. The other one."
The demon stepped out from behind Rule, but he moved clumsily, as if he'd forgotten how his muscles worked. A fierce joy seized Rule. He'd been right. He just had to hold on a moment longer, see which target—
Cordoba's back was to them, but one of the Az£ saw. "Sir," a gravelly voice said, "The big demon—"
"What?" Cordoba snapped—but he glanced over his shoulder.
The demon lumbered into an awkward run. Straight for Cordoba.
Change.
Yes., Rule reached for the moonsong and threw himself into it. The pain in his shoulders vanished, subsumed by the familiar, rippling agony of the Change.
Cordoba's eyes widened. "Shoot her!" he cried, then slapped the barrel of the rifle pointed at Lily. "Not her, fool! Jiri! Shoot her!"
Jiri stepped away from Cynna. She was smiling, her eyes alight with triumph as one, two, all three rifles went off.
And the Change went on. And on. Wrong, shouted some yet-human pocket of him. Something was wrong. It was taking too long. The pain was huge, and the mantles—the mantles were—
Jiri was on the ground. Lily was moving, rolling into the legs of the man closest to her.
Lily! He tried to wrest back control from the mantles, but the Change had never been his to order. He could only—
Surrender.
He let go and blinked out, and then he wasn't.
And then he was. He stood and panted with his head hanging, remembered pain shuddering through him, though this body no longer hurt. But his front legs were weak, the joints throbbing. The scents of blood and demons were strong in his nostrils, but he couldn't think. He shook his head to clear it, but something was wrong. Different.
Never mind. He had to get to Lily.
But the demon already had. It tossed aside one of the Aza, then another—still clumsy, but moving faster, as if its rider was getting the hang of the massive body. Cordoba screeched and ran toward the house.
And the winged creature stirred.
Cordoba, Rule thought. He had to stop Cordoba, who controlled the creature.
But the wolf didn't want Cordoba. The wolf wanted the monster that spread its wings—not for flight, but for balance as it ran toward the two women and the demon defending them.
The demon was big, compared to a man. Not compared to the winged nightmare. And the demon's rider wasn't familiar with the body.
Rule snarled and threw himself at the beast. He wouldn't fail her this time.
It was fast. He was faster. It checked its charge when it saw him, stretching out one great wing, trying to sweep him away with it. He avoided it easily, so it tried to club him with the knobby bone at the hinge. He flattened, rolled, coming to his feet near the body. It tried stepping on him, but it was ungainly on the ground. He dashed around the taloned foot and darted beneath the belly to its other side.
The belly didn't tempt him. He needed the throat. He readied himself, haunches bunching, and leaped.
The head darted at him, jaws gaping. Rule twisted in midair so that his side smashed into the teeth rather than being seized by them. The impact stunned him, though, and he fell badly when he dropped. Pain shot up his left front leg when he stood, making him stumble. Those jaws descended on him, the breath rank and hot.
He'd learned how to run on three legs in hell. He did that now, racing beneath the belly, and spun the second he was shielded by the beast's body, darting between the legs to stand in front of it. And once more launched himself up—almost straight up, at its throat.
The man was screaming that this was wrong, he couldn't hang on to that leathery skin long enough to do any damage. But the wolf knew. If he could sink his teeth in that throat—
He struck, mouth gaping, and clamped his jaws shut through hide and flesh, holding on with every ounce of his strength. And hung there, fifteen feet from the ground. The creature snapped at him but couldn't reach him. It flung itself sideways, trying to throw him off. His body slapped to one side, then the other, but he hung on, his teeth meeting in sour flesh. And convulsed.
Huge, wrenching contractions seized him, spasms that pumped acid through his body—acid forced by the spasm up into his throat. He went blind with pain, blackness swarming over his vision, but he hung on as muscles he'd never felt before squeezed tight in his upper throat and jaw, pumping the acid out. Out of him and into the beast.
It howled. Then it, too, convulsed.
The contractions of those enormous muscles were too much for him. He lost his grip and fell, hitting the ground hard. He tried to scramble to his feet, but he was weak, so weak. When he accidentally put weight on the damaged leg, it buckled. Darkness flickered around the edges of his vision.
One of the taloned feet smashed into him, sending him skidding across dirt and grass. The blow knocked out his air. Consciousness wisped to a thin thread… He blinked. The creature was collapsing. The foot that had struck him had saved him from being buried beneath that great body as it crashed down, wings akimbo, head stretched out flat and motionless on the ground.
Eyes open and staring. Dead.
For several moments he just lay there and breathed. He was alive. He hurt everywhere, but he was alive. That seemed so starkly incredible he couldn't take it in. And Lily… Lily was coming to him.
He managed to turn his head so he could see her running awkwardly toward him, her hands still bound behind her. For a second—just a second—he saw two of her. Both Lilys were running to him: the one who'd known him mostly as a man, and the one who'd known him only as a wolf.
A joy so keen it blanked out all the pains of his body filled him. His head went light with it.
Then he simply passed out.
He came to with her kneeling beside him, crying and cursing the handcuffs and ordering him to wake up. He couldn't smile well in this form, but he tried.
"Rule! Damn these handcuffs," she muttered. "I can't touch you, can't check to see what… but you're alive. You'll stay that way," she told him. "Hang on a little longer, and we'll be able to get help. Cynna's back from wherever she was. I guess she was riding, but she's parked the demon now. He's just sitting there, not moving. Cordoba's dead."
How—?
She knew what he meant to ask. "The others got him. Hen-nings or Alex, I don't know which. They'd hidden inside the house, waiting for a chance to help. I think Jiri knew. She steered Cordoba's attention to the field, didn't she? To the cliff we came up and away from the house. She…" Her breath hitched. "She's dying."
He'd thought her already dead.
Alex limped up. Blood covered one side of his body, but Rule's nose told him it wasn't all his. "Three of the Aza are dead," he said. "The other's got a cracked skull, I think, but he might live. The other two demons, the overgrown hyenas, winked out when Cordoba died. I don't know how to tell if they're still around, though. How…" His voice caught. "How in the bloody hell did you kill that thing?"
Rule was in charge. He needed a voice and words for that. Drawing on the last of his power, he called up the Change.
And, seconds later, he lay gasping for breath in the cold night air. Normally cold didn't bother him, but he was too damned weak. He forced himself to sit. His left arm hung limp; the bone was broken just above the elbow. He hurt in places he didn't remember injuring. "Get the keys for the handcuffs," he told Alex. "The Aza who unlocked Cynna's cuffs probably has them. Where's Hennings? Robbins?"
Alex gave him a funny look. "You saw Robbins killed."
"My memory of recent events has some gaps."
"Hennings is hurt," the man told him, "but not badly. He'll probably be able to walk soon."
"All right. Bring us the keys, then see about our wounded. Cullen and Brady." Cullen had still been alive earlier. He was tough. Surely…
Alex nodded and took off at an uneven run.
"The girl," Rule said suddenly, remembering. "Jiri's daughter."
"Cynna has her," Lily said quietly. "Jiri… wanted to see her. She's still sleeping."
Toby. If Jiri died before removing her spell—Rule lurched to his feet, then swayed.
"Put your arm over my shoulders," Lily said.
"I don't—"
"Yes, you do need help," she snapped. "You've been a big enough hero for one night. I'm not injured. Lean on me so we can get over there and talk to Jiri."
He did. And she was right; it did help to lean on her a bit. Not just because of the physcial aid, but the peace of the mate bond eased through him.
He'd seen her. He'd seen both of her. The other Lily wasn't lost.
"How did you do that?" she asked softly. "How did you kill it? I thought…" She shuddered.
"The poison. The mantles." He shook his head, knowing he wasn't making sense to her. Though it all made sense to him now.
It was the wolf who'd hung on to the demon poison, the wolf's guilt over failing Lily that made it impossible to let go. And the man's need for control, he admitted, that made it impossible to understand. If he'd spent more time as wolf, he might have known, but the wolf felt he deserved to lose his memory, just as Lily had lost her memory of him.
Most of it, anyway. When she died. The part that lived on, her soul, remembered, but the Lily he spoke with and made love with had only brief flashes of memory from their time in hell.
It was the wolf who'd known how to expiate that guilt, but it was the two mantles that made it possible.
"Somehow the mantles affected the Change," he said slowly. "I don't understand it. I didn't know it was possible. Maybe it was the combination of mantles, demon poison, and the mate bond… I'm pretty sure there hasn't been another lupus with that mix acting on him before. I grew fangs. Real, hollow fangs, the kind a viper uses. I pumped the creature full of demon poison. It died, and… the poison's gone."