Blood Winter (5 page)

His words pulsed through the air, throbbing with magic. His worshippers sighed and moaned and shouted “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!”

An instant later, fire erupted around each of the crosses, filling the red columns with hellish flames. The people within screamed. At once, the four Blades leaped forward, smashing at the magic barriers, while Gregory and Giselle unleashed a torrent of magic on the obstructions. Alexander slammed one flaming column with all his might. He bounced off, his clothing smoldering. He leaped forward again, this time with Beyul beside him. The Grim broke right through, and Alexander passed into the heart of the fire.

Flames caught his clothing and hair. They scorched his skin and burned away his eyelashes and eyebrows. Pain seared his body, and he could not breathe.

He plowed through the pile of firewood around the base of the cross, driving his shoulder into the upright. The cross shuddered. Changing his approach, Alexander wrapped his arms around it and lifted. It slid easily out of the rocky dirt. He twisted and stumbled blindly out of the fire, the massive beam tight against his chest. A moment later, coolness enveloped him, and familiar hands eased the heavy cross out of his hands.

The rest of Horngate’s Shadowblades had joined the fight.

Alexander dropped to his knees, coughing raggedly. His body was a mass of pain. All around, he heard screams and running feet. He smelled blood and cooked flesh, and through it all spun that odd sweet-acrid scent.

It was not a good time to rest. He stood again, tottering as his head whirled. Beyul wuffled his hand, and he gripped the Grim’s fur. His spirit sight told him that the other four columns had been breached and the other crosses had come down.

The crowd frothed and boiled as Shadowblades drove them back. They fought efficiently. The invaders were ill-equipped for their skills or their fury. Some of the invaders fought with knives, bats, shovel handles, and axes. More had guns. A barrage of shots rang out and bodies fell—none were Blades. People screamed in fear and agony. It sent the mob over the edge. People exploded into a frenzy as they fought to get away. Cowards. They pushed and shoved at one another, desperate to escape. More people fell and were trampled beneath their stampeding companions. In just a few minutes, the entire crowd had vanished, scuttling away down the road, leaving behind a couple of dozen bodies, some still alive.

There was no sign of the redheaded witch.

Alexander blinked, feeling his healing spells kicking into high gear. He hurt, but it was nothing he could not handle. He limped to where Gregory, Nami, and Oak were trying to detach one woman from her cross. She was badly burned. She whimpered with every touch and movement.

“Fuckers drilled straight through her shin bones. They glued the nut on the bolt with Loctite and sawed off the excess,” Oak said. “Can’t get a grip to break it off.”

Gregory made an animal sound, and his green magic sliced through the back of the bolt like it was made of butter. The nut fell off, and Oak pulled the long metal shaft out from the front.

As he did so, the woman screamed. “Stop, please please please! I’ll do anything you want. Anything! Oh, God, don’t do this to me, please!”

Gregory touched his fingers to her forehead, and she slumped. “Should have done that first,” he muttered.

They proceeded to remove the bolts from her hands and the wires holding her shoulders and torso to the wood. The wires had cut her to the bone. Blood spurted and ran. The witch stopped it with his magic, then stood.

“Watch her,” he told Oak. “Holler if she has trouble. I’m going to stabilize the others.”

It was too late for the girl and the other woman. Both had died from burns and smoke inhalation. Giselle was looking after the man, and Kyle and Tyler were working on the boy. Gregory went to help them.

Kyle’s fingers shook, and he looked as if he might faint. Still, he was pumping healing into the boy as Tyler wrestled to free him. Gregory cut away the bolts and wire, and a moment later, the boy was lying on the ground. Blood bubbled from his lips, and his skin was black and melted. He was barely breathing.

“Get the vehicles,” Max ordered, and a few minutes later, the truck and the Suburban pulled up.

“Load them up,” Giselle said. “Careful, now.”

In two minutes, it was done. Steel and Flint took the wheels of the vehicles and drove away with the three witches and the surviving victims. Tyler went, too, a silent shadow clinging to the boy’s side.

“Are you okay?” Max asked.

Alexander looked at her. Like him, she was bruised, blistered, burned, and bloody. All in a day’s work. “I could use a shower,” he said. He itched to reach for her, to pull her tight and taste her breath, but she would only pull away. He was not up to dealing with the rejection just now.

She nodded, her expression visibly relaxing. She reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers down his cheek. She closed her eyes and nodded again before turning around. “Let’s get these bodies in the ground. Simon, go fetch the backhoe.”

As the others obeyed, she and Alexander wandered around, accompanied by Beyul and Spike. They came to the spot where the red-haired preacher had suddenly appeared. Max stared at the broad circle of red dust on the dirt road. She squatted and touched it, rubbing it between her fingers. Where it touched, it didn’t come off.

Beyul sniffed it and padded through it. None of it clung to him. Spike sneezed and edged carefully around the circle.

Max slowly stood and looked up at Alexander. Her expression was troubled. “This is the stuff that’s all over Horngate. It’s all over us. Somehow that crazy preacher got inside the mountain.
Before
the wards broke. He got in without tripping any alarms.”

“How is that possible?” Alexander asked, unease prickling along his neck.

Max shook her head. “That’s just it, Slick. It isn’t possible.” She looked back down at her fingers. “What the fuck are we dealing with?”

T
HAT NIGHT, MAX WOKE SUDDENLY FROM A DEEP
sleep. Her body was clammy with sweat, and her breathing was ragged. She’d been dreaming. A nightmare.

Filled with a primal need, she slid on top of Alexander, kissing him with a desperation born less from lust than from a need to disappear, to vanish. Alexander’s hands rose and pressed hard and hot against her back. They glided down over her hips, butt, and thighs and then back up. She squirmed, grinding herself against him. He groaned and clutched her, his hips bucking, his cock hard between her legs.

She purred with the power she had over him and raked her fingernails along his ribs, thrusting her hips back and forth. He sucked in a breath, his hands tightening painfully. Suddenly, he lifted her, then drove himself up inside her. She gasped and clamped his hips between her knees, lifting herself up and down, riding him in a hard, fast rhythm. He cupped her breasts and thumbed her nipples, making her moan and ride him harder.

Her body was awash in glorious sensation. Alexander sat up, holding her hips still as he sucked on first one breast and then the other. Max whimpered and tried to move, but he held her fast and thrust up in short, staccato motions.

She bent and kissed him, her tongue delving inside his mouth. His lips seared hers. His hands rose to fasten on the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Their teeth ground together as they devoured each other.

With her hips freed, Max began to move on him again. Sensation spiraled tight in her belly and sent sparks racing down every nerve. She flung her head back as she gripped the headboard for leverage, driving herself onto Alexander. He went back to teasing her breasts, licking and biting.

She whimpered more as the tension in her body wound to a single aching point at her core.

Her world exploded. Pleasure washed through her. Her muscles spasmed with the bliss. She fell against Alexander, letting the waves of pleasure wash over her again and again. She sat there for a long minute as she caught her breath, her arms around his neck. He rubbed her back, soothing away the storm of her passion. She was caught up in the feeling of rightness, of happiness.

Then she remembered.

The feelings she’d chased away came flooding back. Loss, fear, hurt, worry. They gnawed at her, and she had to move.

Wordlessly, she pushed herself away and climbed off the bed. She went into the bathroom, skirting the tub carved into the stone of the floor and heading straight to the shower. She turned it on to its hottest and let the spray pound her. The bite of the water did nothing to alleviate the knots of tension in her shoulders and the throbbing headache that threatened to split her skull. She braced her arms against the wall and let her head dangle, the water sluicing over her.

She glanced at the door, half expecting Alexander to join her. He didn’t. She grimaced. This wasn’t the first time she’d woken him that way, and it wasn’t the first time she’d abandoned him without a word. She sighed.
What is my problem?

She couldn’t help but keep a wall up between them. She was doing her best to tear it down, but it was hard. She kept thinking of the what-ifs. What if he died like Niko? What if he quit wanting her? What if she couldn’t keep this up? What if she got someone killed because she was too attached to Alexander?

The what-ifs were endless. Then stir in the awkwardness of actually being in a relationship with someone day to day. Public displays of affection or no? How was she supposed to fit him into a life where she was his boss and his lover?

Max rubbed her forehead. It really wasn’t that complicated. But she felt like everyone was watching her, and it made her crazy. But the worst was knowing that she could get him killed. And not just him—everyone. If she chose the wrong strategy, if she didn’t train them well enough, if she sent them off on a mission when they weren’t ready, if she led them into a trap . . .

It was just dumb luck that no one had been killed the night before. Steel and Jody had both taken bullets, but luckily, their healing spells had been able to fix them.

“You didn’t used to worry like a fucking mother hen,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her scrubby and soaping herself up. She washed away the stink of her sweat and fear and dried herself.

Back in the bedroom, Alexander was asleep. Or pretending to be. Whichever it was, she let him. She didn’t know what to say.

She dressed quickly and slipped out into the other room. Beyul watched her from the couch, his head on his forepaws. Spike rested her head on his back, her ears pricked up. Neither moved. She grinned at them both and left.

All thirteen of the Shadowblade apartments opened onto this passage, deep in the mountain fortress and well away from the deadly sunlight.

Max started toward the stairs. She wanted to check on the torture victims and see if there was any information about who the mysterious preacher had been. She found herself hesitating outside a door, knowing there was no one on the other side of it. Niko was dead.

Pain seized her, and she gasped. She caught herself against the jamb. Jagged sobs lodged in her throat, and she clamped her lips shut to keep them from escaping. Her Prime rose swift and hard, spurred to ferocity by the depth of her grief. Power exploded from her. Instantly, several doors slammed open, and her Blades launched into the hallway.

Not Alexander. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Each had tumbled from bed ready to fight. They homed in on Max with a pack instinct. Tyler wasn’t among them. She was pretty sure he was in the infirmary with the injured boy.

She held up a hand. “It’s okay,” she said, straightening up. But she could not so easily rein in her grief. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

Thor pushed through the others. He wore a pair of low-slung fleece pants and nothing else. His blond hair was long and loose, and his pale body was cut like crystal, a blond arrow of hair darkening as it disappeared inside his waistband. He eyed her from head to toe. His gaze flicked to Niko’s door and then up the corridor behind her as if he were looking for Alexander.

“You all right?” he asked in his slow Texas drawl.

Max stiffened and lifted her head, swallowing down her emotions until she felt herself turn calm. It was no more than a thin shell of calm, but it would do.

“I’m fan-fucking-tastic,” she said. “I always have public emotional breakdowns before breakfast.” She drew a deep breath and blew it out in a gust. “Clears the sinuses. Gets the day off to a hell of a start. You should all try it. But first, why don’t you all go back to bed before I’m any more humiliated?”

She didn’t wait for them to disperse but hurried up the steps.

She went to the infirmary first. Judith, another Triangle-level witch, was sitting in a chair beside the man, who lay pale and still. The woman was in a bed on the other side and looked none the worse for wear. At least, her body did. Tyler sat beside the boy, staring at him like tiger stalking his prey. His face was stony, and his Blade filled the air with stifling power. His nostrils flared, but he didn’t look up as Max entered.

“What’s the word?” she asked Judith.