“Deformare nitentibus!”
Sickly green light pulsed from where our bodies touched. Asher released me and staggered back, choking on a gasp. I straightened and watched him fight to stay on his feet as the spell seized his limbs. Asher’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to let out a bloodcurdling scream.
I forced myself not to flinch as his bones snapped and reformed, skin sliding out of place, muscles spasming. It was like watching a shift gone wrong, the magic wrenching his arms and legs into directions they weren’t meant to go. A lump rose at the top of his spine, forcing him to bend in half, unable to stand up straight.
With Asher’s mouth wide open, I could see to the back of his throat. Something moved, something bigger than anything that should have been there. Too late, I realized what it was a split second before Asher’s tongue shot from his mouth and curled around my neck like the end of a whip. I sucked in a breath just before the slimy appendage closed around my windpipe.
The spell’s light flashed, and another crack broke the air. Asher jerked lower to the floor as his leg bent the wrong way. He screamed again, louder and higher-pitched, the sound muffled by his extended tongue. The agony of the spell would grow worse as the magic continued to twist his body. If we were in battle, all of his comrades would hear those screams, see what I’d done to him.
Grey fog ate the edges of my vision. He wasn’t weakening fast enough. At this rate, I’d lose consciousness first. I’d lose.
Losing would mean another fight, since Flint did not permit me to end on a fail.
I grabbed hold of Asher’s tongue with both hands, quickly so I didn’t have time to think about what I was about to do. My stomach rolled and bile rose as I stepped closer to him, held his tongue taut—and bit down.
Blood filled my mouth, but the pressure on my neck kept any of it from going down my throat. Spongy flesh split under my teeth, and Asher screamed again, the tension loosening as his tongue fell away from my neck. I spit his own blood at him, barely keeping back the vomit that wanted to follow it out of my mouth as I noticed I’d taken a chunk out of his tongue.
Shoving all other thoughts from my mind, and holding onto my sanity with everything I had, I raised my hands. Energy sizzled up my spine, and I let it come, let it grow as it rose, until it snapped against my fingertips. When it grew too painful to hold anymore, I brought my hands down, fingers pointing toward Asher.
“Fulgur!”
I closed my eyes to protect them from the searing brightness of the lightning bolt that struck the writhing goblin. The sound of flesh burning made me open them in time to see his clothing catch fire, and his screams cut off as the electricity arced through his body, twisting him into tighter knots. I wanted to look away, but this was all part of it. This is what I had to prove to my master.
And so I stood there, staring down at him as if he were nothing, as if his screams and his pain didn’t matter. I looked down my nose and sneered, feeling his blood on my lips as I did, my own blood dripping from the cuts on my scalp, trickling down my temples. I stayed like that for a long moment, letting Flint get a good look at me. Scary enough for you?
Something slammed into me from behind. I shot forward, my eyes wide as I shouted in surprise. I got my arms out in time to catch myself, but the weight of Flint’s body drove me into the mat and held me there, fighting to get a breath through the pressure pinning me down. The floor was slick with blood, and I slid as I tried to squirm free.
Even if I’d had the breath to speak, I wouldn’t have been able to get a word around the rage threatening to choke me. Flint leaned down to put his mouth next to my ear.
“Do you know what your greatest weakness is?”
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I snapped my mouth shut and waited for him to lift some of his weight from my back. He did, enough that I could draw breath to speak, but not enough for me to get up. When I finally had the air I needed, I spoke from between clenched teeth. “Yes. The contract…that forces me to play your ridiculous games.”
“You rely too much on your allies,” Flint corrected me, his voice soft, his breath stirring the stray hairs that curled around my ear. “You trust someone to be there, to watch your back. And you trust too easily. You label someone as a non-threat, or worse, a friend, and then you turn your back on them.” His voice hardened. “You need to stop. This circle was meant to keep magic in, not to keep other threats out. You knew that, and you still turned your back on me.”
My temper flared, and I pressed my lips together to keep myself from letting out the spell I so desperately wanted to use to scrub that superior tone from his voice. Flint had learned early on that it was necessary to forbid me outright from using magic on him without his express permission. Damn his eyes.
“Roll over,” he said, his voice still low and even.
Asher’s gasps of pain and pleasure provided a macabre backdrop as I did as Flint ordered, rolling over despite the fact that he gave me very little room to do so. The limited space forced me to drag my bloody stomach against his to get onto my back. By the time I was looking up at him, the pain in my torn stomach was enough to distract me from the desire to wipe that smirk off his face.
He lowered his body over mine, ignoring the blood. Warmth seeped through our clothing, into my skin, his power washing over me in warm waves. The pain ebbed under the soothing balm of his magic, and my muscles gave up their resistance. I melted against the floor, allowing myself a second to bask in his influence, immune to the stinging in my scalp and stomach.
“Your attack was good.” Flint’s calm clear voice permeated the warm bubble of his power, brushing my ears as if he’d leaned closer. “You used strategy to weaken his attack before he made it, and you used his own desires against him. You made him scream, twisted him in a show of power that would have given his companions pause.” His eyebrows twitched upward. “Biting his tongue was a nice touch. Macabre and disgusting, always a good way to make your enemies hesitate. And of course lightning is always an effective display of power.”
His eyebrows fell and his voice hardened. “But none of that would matter in a real battle if you allowed your enemy to get too close. You pushed yourself without pause, spent all your energy. Now you’re weak.” This time he did lean closer, nuzzled my ear. “I’ll bet you couldn’t even manage a handful of frost right now.”
I flexed my hand, anger giving me a boost in energy. It was too hard to imagine frost while floating on the waves of the leannan sidhe’s power, so I imagined fire instead. I imagined how satisfying it would be to see that smug look in his eyes vanish on a flood of flame-induced pain. It was possible I could argue later that his last statement had been a challenge. A request that I attempt what he’d suggested.
Hmmm…
“I could make you so much stronger,” Flint continued seductively. “There are so many benefits to accepting a leannan sidhe as your patron. If you would just let me help you.”
I choked on the sharp laugh that tried to make it past my lips, wincing as the movement pulled the wounds in my stomach. “Sure,” I wheezed. “Who wouldn’t want to be food for a fey? And our last deal has gone so well for me. Where do I sign?”
Flint sighed. “Is that what holds you back? Old stories? Do you really believe the tales of my people draining their artists dry, leaving them to waste away into death?”
“Saying it in a mocking tone really does rob the idea of all credibility,” I agreed. The longer I bobbed on the waves of his magic, the goofier I felt, but I didn’t care. Yet. “You’re right, I’m being silly. Give me a pen.”
Irritation tightened the corners of his mouth. “Accepting me as your patron would be no more dangerous than becoming a vampire’s human servant. The relationship is symbiotic. I would feed you, push your magic to levels you couldn’t imagine.”
“Sort of like raising cattle, you fatten me up, then it’s off to the dinner table.” I snickered.
Anger flashed in Flint’s eyes, offering me a brie
f glimpse of irises glowing gold and brown like a tiger’s eye stone. “I’m not a heathen to lose myself in the taking of energy. I would not hurt you. In point of fact, if we were bonded, you would be healing much faster.”
He sounded far more serious than was good for me. No more jokes, then. I let the humor bleed from my face, concentrating on the lacerations in my scalp and stomach to help me pull myself free of the warm, fuzzy feelings. “First of all, I’d be healing much faster if you’d let me brew more healing potions.”
“You rely too much on—”
“I am aware of your opinion on my use of potions, there’s no need to go over it again. Secondly, the answer to your offer of patronage is no. And you only own me for another ten months, so you can’t force me to accept a bond that will last longer than that.” I stared into his eyes, and let more of my anger show in my face, let go of some of the self control I was using to hold back the urge to give him a magical slap across the face. I wouldn’t attack him, I could restrain myself. But I wanted him to know how badly I wanted to. “Get off me.”
Flint raised his face, brushing his lips down a path along my jaw until he spoke with his lips brushing mine, goblin blood and all. “Make me.”
Magic buzzed against my palms, but I withheld the spell at the last second. He was goading me, trying to get me to use magic against him. Why?
This time I didn’t question the instincts urging me to caution. If he expected me to use magic, to react out of anger, then I’d have to do the opposite. Perhaps prove him wrong in the process. I smiled against his lips.
“Here kitty, kitty,” I whispered.
Chapter 2
Flint tensed and rolled off of me as a monstrous black feline barreled into the circle, sweeping long, curved claws through the space where Flint had been seconds ago.
Scath came to a graceful halt beside me, enormous black-furred body tensed, ready to leap at Flint if he came at me again. Her massive head hovered low to the ground, bright green eyes locked on Flint. She didn’t bare her teeth, but when you were a cat sith the size of a dire tiger, you didn’t need teeth to be scary.
“Has that beast been here the entire time?” Flint demanded, his voice tight. “I thought she left.”
“She’s been lying on that beam for the last twenty minutes,” I said, pointing up at the ceiling. “She—”
Laughing cut me off. A rasping, wet, joyful sound that sent shivers down my spine. It wasn’t the laugh that startled me as much as the realization of who it was laughing.
Flint followed my gaze as I pushed myself into a sitting position and watched Asher’s goblin brothers join him in the blood smeared circle. My spell had released his body, and Asher was chuckling as his brothers each grabbed one of his limbs and pushed and pulled them back into position. The wet popping sound of joints snapping into place turned my stomach.
Asher caught me staring. With a slow, deliberate pleasure, he dragged his gaze over my bloodied scalp and midsection, admiring his handiwork. Then he met my eyes and held them as he licked his lips, his bloodied tongue leaving a bright red sheen in its wake.
Suddenly I was all too aware of the blood drying around my mouth, and the squishy piece of Asher’s tongue tucked into the corner of my bottom lip. Bile splashed the back of my throat, and my hand shook as I fished the piece of flesh out of my mouth.
Flint arched an eyebrow as I flicked it away from me, but didn’t comment. Instead, he smoothed his hands down his black T-shirt, frowning at the wet patches of my blood. “You called the beast to your aid. Does that mean she obeys you now?”
“Not exactly. She seems willing to help me if I ask for it, but she’s completely unresponsive to any attempt on my part to communicate with her. And she won’t leave me alone, even if I ask her to.”
Scath relaxed her pose, apparently giving up on Flint doing anything interesting. She settled on the floor and turned her stare to the goblins as if debating on whether she was ready for dinner.
“You’re not just saying that because you know that if she did start obeying your commands, I could give her orders through you?” Flint asked casually. He met my eyes. “And remember, you cannot lie to me. A lie would void our—”
“Would violate our contract and I would be forsworn.” I shoved myself to my feet, gritting my teeth as my stomach muscles screamed in protest. “I remember.”
“Same time tomorrow?” Asher asked.
I glanced at the goblins, noting their eager, expectant faces. Asher licked his lips again, pushing his tongue out farther than was necessary. My stomach rolled.
Flint didn’t look at him. “No. She’ll be moving on to spellcasters next week. You’ve ceased to provide a challenge.”
Asher narrowed his eyes, and his goblin companions shared a dark look before glaring at Flint. Scath’s tail lashed from side to side, and I held my breath. Tension charged the air in the gym as the goblins considered their response to Flint’s insult.
Finally, Asher took a step back. “Perhaps we’ll see you again…outside the gym?”
“I’ll consider it,” I said evenly.
I pushed a little power into my voice, touching the lingering traces of the evil eye. Asher held my stare, shivering at the brush of my power. He smiled, a brief flash of sharp teeth, then gathered his brethren and left.
“They’re going to go out in public like that,” I noted.
“Goblins don’t like to wash away blood, you know that.”
“I do.” I paused. “Do you remember what I said to you last month when you first told me you were having goblins come to the gym to spar with me?”
He knelt on the floor and touched one of the golden seals printed at the edge of the circle, activating the glyphs that would clean the biological traces of the combatants from the mat. The blood vanished from his clothes and mine, as well as the floor. “Yes.”
“I said it was a bad idea. I reminded you that goblins love to fight, they love inflicting pain, and they love experiencing pain. I pointed out that inviting them to fight with me was a relationship that was easy to start and difficult to end. Do you remember that?”
“I do.”
I anchored my hands on my hips, bracing myself as Flint activated the next glyph, the one that would heal the worst of my injuries. “But you did it anyway. Asher wasn’t kidding. He’ll find me outside this gym. He’ll want to fight again, especially since I beat him.” I pointed at the door where the goblins had vanished. “He enjoyed that.”
“Are you so worried you won’t be able to beat him again?” Flint straightened and pinned me in place with a sharp look. “That’s why this training is important. You shouldn’t be afraid—”
“I’m not afraid he’ll kill me.” I probed gently at my scalp with one hand, checking that the deep scratches had healed completely. “I’m irritated because you’ve made it more likely I’ll have to kill him.”
Flint’s eyebrows met his hairline. “You’re that confident. You believe you could kill him.”
I clenched my teeth. “You are so terribly typical. You think because I don’t go around killing my enemies that I lack the power to do so. You think it’s not a choice.”
“You’re holding back on purpose then,” Flint suggested. “You like adding to your list of powerful enemies?”
Powerful enemies. That reminds me. “Peasblossom?”
A tiny pink face the size of a Barbie doll head appeared from behind one of the ceiling beams, not far from where Scath had been lounging. “What?”
“Did I send an apology gift to Arianne this month?” I felt the wounds on my stomach through the rips in my T-shirt. They’d closed, but the magic hadn’t healed them completely, so I still had painful red welts where the goblin had dragged his claws over my flesh.
The pixie scowled and stepped out from behind the beam, her thin pink wings vibrating behind her. “Yes, two weeks ago. And you delivered it by hand because you’re too cheap to pay shipping, even though I told you she’d take a swing at you fo
r showing your face on her property.”
“She didn’t take a swing at me.”
Peasblossom narrowed her eyes. “How’d you sleep that night?”
Shadows darkened my mind at the memory, but I shoved them away. “Fine,” I lied.
“Apology gifts don’t work.” Flint snatched up the satchel of remaining potions and slung it over his back. “I’ve told you that.”
“They do work,” I argued. “Why do you think I get along so well with—”
“The point is you need to work on your control,” Flint said, waving a hand to stop me. “You have the raw talent, the raw magic. If you work harder to harness it, you might survive your abysmal political skills.”
“You’re awfully interested in making me stronger, considering we’ll be enemies in ten short months.” I grabbed the hem of my black T-shirt and jerked it down to cover my behind before curling a finger at Peasblossom.
Flint smiled, a slow curl of his sensual mouth. For some reason, when he smiled like that, it made him seem like he was standing a lot closer than he was. “You still think we’ll be enemies when our time is up?”
“Yes.”
Peasblossom snorted as she landed on my shoulder and sidled to sit on my neck under my long, dark hair.
“Ten months is a long time.” Flint shrugged. “In any case, you’re mine for the time being, and I like to make sure every weapon at my disposal is sharp and ready to use.”
I bristled, but whatever comeback I might have managed was interrupted when my phone rang. My throat tightened as I retrieved my cell phone from the table beside the chair where I’d been recuperating after the last sparring session.
Flint sighed. “Is it Tuesday already?”
I swiped my thumb over the screen, knowing who it would be before I saw the text. “It’s been a month since you’ve let me speak to him. Let me call him.” I swallowed hard. “Please.”
“You may respond to the text the same way you always do. No more, no less.”
Frustration and impotent fury blurred my vision as I responded to Andy’s weekly text of “Are you all right?” with a paltry, “I’m fine. Just busy.”
Mercenary Page 2