Apocalyptic Mojo (13 page)

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Draigh stood on the platform, his hands bound behind him in mercury-laced cuffs. Despite his best efforts, his gaze had continually slipped across the crowd, searching the thousands of hostile, enraged faces for her.

Just one last look at her pretty face. That was his only wish. Surely Ardith wouldn’t let him go to his death without one last glance…a visual goodbye.

High above their heads, unmanned war drones and tracking aircraft dipped and danced upon the air currents, constantly watching for the next attack. It was the price First City had to pay for remaining above ground. As the sound of the circling aircraft died away, the incessant squawk of the raven took its place. Draigh had finally remembered where he’d seen the damn thing before. Edwige’s familiar had been circling the gallows since the moment Draigh and the other prisoners were lead outside.

Draigh ducked as a rock flew toward him, managing to avoid the worst of it. It hit his shoulder with a glancing blow, the pain a mere trifle compared to the pain swelling in his heart. He’d heard that morning that two more prisoners had been ensconced in Hotel Claustrophobia. Two more magical prisoners.

He was terrified one of them was Ardith. The fact that she hadn’t come to the execution seemed proof it was so. Draigh knew that thought was illogical. She could at that very moment be watching from the shadows somewhere.

But something told him his witch would never be content to watch him die from the shadows. She would more likely be standing at the front, either cheering them on or daring him to fight for his life. He smiled at the thought.

The crowd roared and Draigh turned. President Zith came out of the justice building that housed the prison to address the crowd. He stood on a balcony high above the street, his arms raised as the crowd cheered him. Even from where Draigh stood, far below the balcony, the president’s face looked soft and his gaze unfocused. He appeared dazed.

Apparently sensing the commencement of the executions, the rabid crowd surged closer to the gallows as the president started to speak. The platform under the prisoners’ feet wobbled dangerously as the crowd pressed forward.

When the human president began to speak, the crowd stilled. President Zith’s voice was a monotone buzz against the sudden quiet. “People of First City, we engaged on this journey in reaction to the horrific murder of thousands of our precious citizens. Their deaths shocked us into action. An action that was strategically designed to send a spear into the hearts of the creatures who would harm us. It was a hastily implemented plan. It had its flaws.”

The crowd began to stir as they sensed they weren’t going to like what came next. Murmuring rose all around the platform.

“Since that time we have been made aware of new information—”

The crowd rumbled with discontent. Shouts rang out.

“New information that clears the prisoners sentenced here today.”

The crowd roared, surging forward and flailing angrily. A large rock hit Draigh on the side of the head and his vision swam, blood running down his temple. The older witch standing next to him cried out from a similar attack. She staggered toward Draigh and he moved to cover her. “It will be okay. Just stay behind me.”

More rocks were flying. One particularly sharp stone hit Draigh in the back as he tried to cover the much smaller witch with his body. Rough hands grasped his shoulders and he jerked away.

An enormous, black hand clasped his shoulder. “Come with me. We’ll get you out of here.” Draigh’s head snapped around and an ebony face peered at him from under a rough hood. He nodded, inclining his head to the woman and the other two mages waiting with him. “Move toward the building. We have friends here.”

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Ardith pulled the cell door open and stepped back. It was one of the larger, darker cells, located way in the back of the prison block. The cells were lit only by lamps high on the slimy stone walls of the passageway and the air inside was even more stale than the other, smaller cells. The cells in the back were rarely used, saved only for the worst of the prisoners, which was why Ardith and Blackthorne had placed Joris there. “As promised, witch. There’s your little boy toy.”

Edwige swept inside, pulling a disheveled Joris into her arms. “Oh, my poor darling.” She stroked his filthy face and reached for the cuffs holding his slender wrists together. “Let’s get you out of here. We have much work to do.”

Joris threw Ardith a look. “What of this one? She and the large man who is colored like the night put me here.”

Edwige embraced him. “We’ll soon be free of her and all her kind, my love.”

Ardith glanced at the cell door, tempted beyond words. It wouldn’t hold the witch for long but it would be eminently satisfying. However, she had another plan that would be even more satisfying. And it would all depend on timing.  “We need to go.”

Edwige slashed at the cuffs on Joris’ wrists and ankles with witch fire and they fell to the floor, clanging dully against the moist earth. The rogue slipped an arm through Joris’s and walked him toward the door.

The shadows in the corner of the cell shifted. “What about me?”

Dallie looked even worse than Joris. The fire of her bright-red hair had been extinguished under a thick layer of slime and mud and her green eyes were sunken. They were underscored by deep, purple circles. “You aren’t going to leave me here are you, Joris?”

Edwige whipped around. “Who is this creature?”

Joris turned toward the girl. “She is no one. I found her useful once but no longer.”

Ardith saw the hint of regret flare in the apprentice’s blue gaze as he said the words.

Edwige must have seen it too. Before Ardith realized what she had in mind, Edwige shot a deadly ball of witch fire into the girl’s chest.

Dallie’s pretty green eyes widened slightly, the lush mouth forming into a surprised O, and she crumpled slowly toward the ground.

Joris paled but said nothing.

“What the hell?” Ardith lifted a hand toward Edwige and the air thickened with magic.

Edwige lifted her hands. “Don’t even think about it, mage. Between us, Joris and I have more magic than you’ll ever have. We’ll kill you as easily as I killed that little strumpet.”

Ardith’s fists clenched at her sides, her teeth grinding together. She reminded herself of her end game, forcing her heartbeat to calm. “You two deserve each other.”

Edwige’s lips curved upward. “Why thank you, sister. That is the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

The two monsters left the cell and Ardith knelt beside Dallie. It was too late to help her, she was already dead. Ardith closed the girl’s eyelids and stood, determined to avenge her death. With that very satisfying thought she started after Edwige and Joris.

They climbed to the third level, walking past dozens of soldiers as if they belonged. Ardith had wrapped them in a cloaking spell that made them appear to each person they passed as someone who belonged there but wasn’t important enough to speak to. She wondered how Edwige stood the anonymity of appearing as someone’s lowly clerk. Anonymity and lack of notoriety weren’t exactly her thing.

They entered the library and Ardith glanced toward the window. She could see the gallows from there, which was one of the reasons she’d chosen that room. The nooses remained empty and, in fact, the entire structure seemed in danger of being torn down as the rabid crowd surged around it, screaming in frustration.

Apparently President Zith’s address had done its job. With any luck, Blackthorne had whisked Draigh and the other prisoners away.

“Is the army in place?”

Joris turned a smug look on his mistress. “They are. They only await my orders.”

Edwige started to nod, then stopped, her shrewd gaze sliding to Joris. “
Your
orders. You forget yourself, apprentice.”

Joris just continued to smile.

Ardith listened carefully for the sound of footsteps on the marble floor beyond the room. Finally it came. And it sounded as if President Zith was bringing dozens of soldiers with him to the party. “It’s show time. You monsters should try to look harmless.”

Edwige snorted. “It is no effort at all to fool the humans, they are too stupid to even notice that we are their betters.”

The door slammed open and President Zith entered, his sharp gray gaze taking in the room’s inhabitants as a large contingent of soldiers filed in behind him, surrounding him protectively. Quickly assessing Ardith, he appeared to dismiss her as his intense gaze slid to Edwige. “It has been done. Is this the witch who ordered the zombies to kill our people?”

Ardith’s eyes widened and she took a step toward Edwige, intending to throttle the woman for her duplicity. She never got the chance. She heard the sound of a gun firing and a silvery web dropped over her before she could even lift her hands to stop it.

Looking upon Ardith in her helpless state, President Zith smiled. “We thank you for this weapon,” he told Edwige. “It will come in very handy in the future.”

Ardith was unable to move, her magic buried under the dampening powers of the mercury-laden web. She could only look upon Edwige and her evil spawn and fume as they laughed at her.

The human soldiers started toward her, a hateful gleam in their eyes.

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Screaming and flailing, the crowd fought to get to them but a line of soldiers had moved between the rabid crowd and the prisoners, blocking them.

Rocks and other, softer and more disgusting things plummeted toward them, rarely missing as they retraced their steps toward the justice building. By the time they reached the door and ducked inside, Draigh was bleeding from several cuts and gashes and was covered in rotted garbage. His fellow prisoners were in little better condition.

Once inside the cool, dimly lit corridor leading to the gallows from the prison, Draigh turned to Blackthorne, holding out his wrists. “Ardith?”

Blackthorne sent a jolt of magic into Draigh’s cuffs. “She’s keeping an eye on Edwige.”

Once his hands were free, Draigh was able to use his magic to release the woman and free his ankles. “You captured the rogue?”

Blackthorne frowned but only said. “I’ll explain later. For now, we need to get to the portal. It’s on the top floor.”

Draigh shook his head. “I’m not leaving her. Where is she?”

“Hunter, you can’t—”

“Just tell me where she is, mage.”

Blackthorne looked around. “Keep your voice down. Many lives are at stake here, not just yours and Ardith’s.”

With an effort Draigh kept from roaring in frustration. He nodded, turning away. “I’ll find her myself.”

Blackthorne touched his forearm. “She’s on the third floor. In the library, waiting for President Zith. Tread carefully, hunter.”

Draigh didn’t acknowledge the other man’s warning, he was already running toward the stairs.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Draigh watched President Zith and his protective guard enter the library. Wrapping himself in a cloaking enchantment, Draigh slipped up behind the soldiers and peered past them to get the layout of the room. The rogue witch and her apprentice were speaking to President Zith. Edwige was making plans for executing Ardith, who was standing a few feet away, surrounded by soldiers. His witch had a magic squelching net settled over her, which hid the visible aura of her powers.

Draigh swore silently. He was too late.

Rage climbed up his throat, his hands clenching into fists as he listened to the rogue calmly discussing Ardith’s death. Draigh didn’t fight the rage. Instead he embraced it, and as the soldiers started to pull Ardith toward the door, he dropped the cloaking enchantment and set his beast free.

His skin rippled, expanded. Bones and tendons popped as they grew. Claws sprang from his fingertips and a roar burst from his lips. His head whipped around at the sound of a pain-filled shriek. Edwige had President Zith wrapped in a rope of magic that seemed to be infusing him with deadly energy. The human leader jerked manically as Edwige’s electrical magic sizzled against his skin.

The soldiers around Zith had started moving back, their faces slack with horror.

Draigh focused eyes that he knew glowed with building magic on the rogue. He opened his mouth and his voice came out several octaves lower than his human intonation, and was rough like gravel against glass. “Let him go.”

Edwige simply smiled. She turned to the young soldier nearest Ardith. “Kill that beast or I’ll finish off your president.”

Draigh recognized Richard from the prison wing. The young soldier’s face was pale, his eyes too wide and dark in the paleness. He looked from Edwige to Draigh and back again, clearly uncertain which was the greater danger.

“Do it!” Edwige twisted her outstretched hand and President Zith screamed, long and high, the sound filled with exquisite pain.

Richard’s jaw tightened. He turned to Draigh. “I’m sorry.”

Draigh knew the boy’s instincts would flee in the face of his leader’s imminent death. Whatever the soldier thought of Draigh, he would do as Edwige demanded. As Draigh leapt for him, the young soldier lifted the web gun upward.

Draigh fought his beast for a modicum of control, knowing he would regret harming the young soldier when he regained his mind. With a roar, he swiped the gun out of Richard’s hand, feeling the man’s skin split under his long, deadly nails.

Richard cried out in pain and the gun skittered across the floor, landing at Ardith’s feet. She looked up at Draigh, a message in her beautiful eyes. It was a plea for him to retain his humanity. To hang with her a moment longer.

Draigh fought the beast for control, he reached for her, touched the snapping magic holding her in thrall, and sent a surge of power into it, tearing the web.

A bullet snapped into him, then another and another. The pain sent the beast roaring mindlessly toward the group of soldiers. He picked the first man up and threw him into the others.

The air shifted next to his skin and pain lanced his calf. Draigh roared and turned. He found himself staring into the silver eyes of Ardith’s star pup. A vision slipped across his mind. The pup used the most effective type of reason against Draigh, he simply showed the hunter what he’d become in that moment.

Draigh cried out, covering his face, and fell to his knees. He fought the beast to push it back.

The pup moved away, heading for Edwige.

The rogue lifted her hands to attack Sirius, but she never got the chance. With supernatural speed, Sirius leapt onto Edwige’s chest and encircled her throat in his deadly jaws. The rogue stilled, her eyes wide with horror, and then she and Sirius disappeared in a blast of silvery light.

Draigh’s body slowly returned to normal, repelling the bullets and healing as it regained its humanity. Soft hands touched his shoulders. Ardith’s jasmine scent washed over him, soothing the frantic beat of his heart. He inhaled deeply to pull in her sweet essence. Draigh slowly stood, biting back a groan from the achy leftovers of his change. He looked down at Ardith. “Are you okay, witch?”

She smiled, her eyes soft. “I’m good, hunter. How about you?”

Draigh shook his head and pulled her into his arms. Burying his face in her hair, he shook with emotion. His arms enfolded her with near desperation and he had to take care not to hold her too tightly. All he wanted to do was take her away from that place and make love to her for hours. “I am now.”

All around them human soldiers groaned, untangling themselves and pushing slowly to their feet. They cast cautious looks in Draigh’s direction.

President Zith had collapsed into a chair, his face gray and covered with a sheen of sweat. His hands shook as he scraped them over his face.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor and they all turned toward the door. To Draigh’s amazement, Lady Penelope and the Huntsman strode into the room, followed by a few dozen black robed mages and hunters. It was a formidable contingent.

Zith shoved to his feet and clasped his shaking hands together to still them.

Lady Penelope glanced at Ardith as they entered the room, a silent question in her eyes. Ardith nodded, affirming they’d gotten Edwige.

The mages and sorceri stopped before President Zith and stared at him until he bowed.

“Lady Penelope, Lord Huntsman, welcome to First City.”

The Huntsman glared at him. “We have come to tell you that the zombies which surrounded the city have been dispatched. I understand our people have managed to capture the rogue witch—”

“With no help from you or your people,” Lady Penelope interjected sternly as she cast a disgusted look toward the disheveled soldiers.

Zith had the good grace to look ashamed. “We were misinformed, my lady. I cannot apologize enough.”

She lifted a dark eyebrow. “It is true. You cannot.”

“We’ll deal with the rogue. You will do whatever it takes to get your world back under control,” the Huntsman said.

Zith’s bushy brown eyebrows lifted in alarm. “But how will I calm the people?”

“Your prison is filled with creatures to publicly execute. We will leave several of our people here to manage the zombies until the execution.”

Zith sighed with relief, bobbing his head in agreement.

“And we will assume that your government remains friendly with the council and the authority?” Lady Penelope inquired gravely.

“Yes. Of course.” Zith threw Draigh a look. “What of that one? He attacked my soldiers.”

Ardith strode forward, handing Zith the web gun. “He was only trying to keep you from making a terrible mistake, President Zith. Had you harmed a member in good standing with either the council or the authority, you would have been dealing with the zombies and the mess the rogue created on your own. It would not have gone well for you.”

Draigh hid a smile. He knew what she said wasn’t true. The mages and hunters couldn’t have walked away and left Edwige to do her worst, no matter what the humans did. But it was a good bluff. Her threat held weight with the human leader and Draigh was heartened by her coming to his defense.

Lady Penelope’s black eyes widened slightly when she looked at Ardith, but she didn’t disagree with Ardith’s statement. “We will go and allow you to attend to your affairs, Zith.”

Ardith’s gaze suddenly snapped around, her eyes widening. At the same moment Draigh comprehended what she’d apparently just realized.

Joris was gone. He’d disappeared.

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They stood together on the steps of the social club. Ardith was dressed in a low-cut gown with full skirts that swung when she walked. She held a parasol above her head, the wind dancing softly through her loose curls.

She pretended she hated the dress of the time, but secretly she sometimes liked feeling like a girl.

The light in Draigh’s eyes when he looked at her only enhanced her pleasure.

For his part, the hunter looked like a pirate. He wore tight brown-leather breeches, tall black-leather boots, and a billowy, white shirt that was open to his pecs, showing lightly furred, sun-kissed skin that made her mouth water.

She inhaled his scent greedily, under the pretense of scenting the water off Salem Sound.

“So. I guess this is goodbye.” The hunter appeared grim.

She looked up at him, her heart pounding painfully. “I have a new assignment.”

He nodded. “Yes. So do I.”

She glanced toward the sound. “Would you walk with me?”

His eyes lit. “I’d like that.” He cupped her elbow and they started down the street, toward the sparkling blue water dotted with huge, masted ships.

Every bit of Ardith’s awareness centered on the touch of his hand on her arm. The heat he created with that small contact spiraled through her, tightening her belly into a knot of need. It was ridiculous to plunge into full blown lust from such an innocuous touch. Illogical.

But then, nothing between them had been logical.

“I understand you visited the Watcher.”

When she glanced at him, she noted the slight twitching of the lips that told her he was holding back a smile.

“Damn gnome.” She grinned when his smile escaped. She liked to see him smile. “I owe him a favor now. I’ll admit I’m a little worried about that.”

Draigh let the smile grow into a laugh. “You needn’t worry. He’s an infuriating creature but scrupulously fair. He’ll not ask more of you than you’d willingly give yourself.”

She swayed against him as they walked, enjoying the way he leaned into her touch, as if he couldn’t get enough of it. She knew the feeling. The street got busier and louder as they neared the docks. It became difficult to speak among the screaming and rambunctious activity so Ardith stopped talking and just enjoyed the feeling of being with him one last time.

After being jostled several times and even pinched once, Ardith pulled Draigh toward a side street, away from the activity.

Finally she asked, “So, what’s your next assignment?”

He sighed. “I must travel to the future. There is a colony of sorceri there who have not answered the authority’s yearly summons to report in. The Huntsman fears something has happened to them.”

She nodded, biting her lip against the need to tell him to be careful. She’d spent the last days since they’d returned to Salem, while they worked out the details of what to do with Edwige, trying to convince herself she didn’t care for him. Unfortunately, it was hard to ignore the way her body came alive whenever he was near.

“What about you?”

Ardith stopped, suddenly so filled with emotion she wasn’t sure she could talk. Her assignment would take her away for a year or more. She’d be going to a place where communication with other magical beings would be difficult at best, impossible at worst.

She suddenly couldn’t envision going that long without seeing him, touching him. “I…” She swallowed, hard. Her eyes stung and she closed them, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

He shifted and suddenly his hands were at her waist. His scent enveloped her. His heat pulsed against her skin. The sweet warmth of his breath bathed her face and Ardith opened her eyes, allowing the tears to fall as his lips claimed hers.

Drenched with emotion, the kiss was like a punch to the stomach. Ardith wobbled on her feet from its impact. She grabbed hold of his arms for support and suddenly found herself enveloped, the iron bands of his arms wrapping around her and drawing her into the safety and delight of his big, hard body.

Ardith relished the velvet push and tussle of his tongue, delighted in his taste against her lips, and inhaled the sun-warmed scent that seemed to enclose her in a special kind of bubble, beyond which nothing else existed. Suddenly she couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t press herself close enough to his hard length. Couldn’t deepen the kiss enough to satisfy her craving for more.

His breath against her face grew frantic, a low moan rumbled in his wide chest. Ardith trapped his face between her hands and held him in the kiss, which had become a desperate mesh of lips and tongue and even teeth as they fought to assuage the grinding need within them. They had only moments to address that need. Only a tiny slice of time to find a way to deal with the idea that what they’d found was gone again.

They had only a smidgen of their lives to explore the depth of what they were giving up.

In those moments there was nothing beyond the cocoon of their lust. No sounds, no scents, no visual cues could yank them from their need. Only Ardith’s spinning mind could manage the herculean task. As she realized she had to take advantage of the tiny slice of time allotted them.

She dragged her lips from his. “The portal is just a few steps away.”

His gaze found hers, held and sparked with emotion as it read her intent. “My rooms.”

She was already turning away. “Yes.”

They ran down the street, hand in hand, ignoring the judgmental looks of the women on the street, as well as the jealous glances from their men. Ardith suddenly felt as if they were being controlled by a giant, unseen clock that clambered over the moments, struck away the hours, and left them little choice as to how their lives would continue onward.