Crimson Wind (14 page)

Alexander caught sight of the baby carrier in the backseat. He nodded. “It is.”

“Shit.”

He knew what she was thinking. That her family was under attack and there was no time to waste.

“Whatever you’re going to do, get on it,” Holt said. He was leaning out the window, peering back the way they’d come.

Alexander followed suit, pulling himself up onto the sill to get a broader view. His stomach clenched. A fine mist of red was slowly falling behind them. It drifted and swirled like ash as it descended, hanging a crimson curtain across the valley. He could no longer see Mount Shasta. As he watched, bits from the leading edge settled on the road no more than two hundred yards behind them. Instantly, the ground buckled and twisted. Orange tentacles that could have been plants or something else entirely shot twenty feet into the air. A second later, the mist thickened so he could see no more.

He dropped back inside. “We have to go. Now.”

“We aren’t leaving them. Load them in the back.”

Alexander did not argue. It would only waste time, and the stubborn thrust of Max’s jaw told him she was not going to change her mind.

He snatched up Amanda first. She was feverish, her cheeks flushed splotchy red. Her head rolled back to dangle over his arm, and her body went limp as he swung her up. Alexander carried her around to the back of the truck. The father of the two boys was already pushing open the tailgate. Alexander set his burden down and went to drag her husband to the rear. The man struggled.

“My daughter! I can’t leave her!”

Alexander picked the kicking man up and tossed him over his shoulder, dumping him in the back with the others. Without a word, he went to get the baby. He leaned in through the window and yanked out the seat. Plastic snapped, and the seat belt uprooted as he pulled the baby free. He handed the crying baby to her distraught father and shut the tailgate and shell before jumping back in the truck.

Max gunned the motor before he shut his door, and they squealed away up the freeway, back toward Weed.

Alexander looked behind them. A clump of crimson fell to the left, only a hundred yards away now.

“How far can this magic go?” he asked Holt.

The mage shrugged. “It took a lot of effort to pull it into this world. I doubt the Guardians have much strength left to push it very far. Using a volcano was smart—made it easier to disperse. That’s probably how they’re doing it everywhere. From here, they can shove it down the valley and cover most of the state. I wouldn’t bother to go north where hardly anyone lives. Not that it will matter. Eventually it will fall into rivers and drain to the ocean and spread everywhere. Water is the one thing that doesn’t transform.”

“Will the mountains contain it?” Max asked. She had gone cold again and seemed almost relaxed as she raced ahead of the falling wild magic.

“For now. If the Guardians have any strength to push it, they’ll use what wind they can find and the summer heat to keep it aloft as long as possible. It takes less effort. Forcing it over the mountains is a lot of work for little purpose. You have the ocean on one side and desert on the other. They get more bang for their buck by staying in the valley and letting the rivers take care of spread.”

“All right. Then once it stops coming at us, we can turn west to the coast and see if we can beat it to Winters,” Max said.

Neither man answered. It was a long shot, and Alexander knew it. As fast as the mist was overtaking them, they could not go fast enough south to get around it.

Max swerved to miss a downed motorcycle, jamming on the brakes and sliding sideways as she did. Alexander leaped out before the truck skidded to a halt and ran to pick up the man struggling to walk down the shoulder of the road.

“Leg’s broke,” he told Alexander. “Hey! I’m too heavy for you!”

But Alexander swung him up easily and trotted him back to the truck, shoving him in beside Holt. The back was stuffed full already.

The big man groaned and swore. “Goddamn that hurts!” A couple of minutes later, he recovered enough to examine his companions. “What’s going on here?” he asked, staring at the tape binding Holt.

“He is dangerous,” Alexander answered.

“And you’re not? I weigh two fifty, and you picked me up like I was a rag doll.”

Alexander smiled. “Maybe I am dangerous, too. But I just saved you, so that should offer you some comfort.”

“What the hell is that stuff coming out of Shasta? That’s no regular volcanic eruption.”

“You don’t want to know,” Max said. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Baker,” he said. He grimaced and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He was dressed in a black leather jacket and pants, and he wore a green bandanna tied around his head. The leather was scarred from where he’d slid across the blacktop. The stubble on his jaw was a mix of gray and brown, and his face was weathered and tan. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“The end of the world,” Max said. “Hold on.”

She veered off into the median, hardly slowing down. The truck jolted and bumped, spewing dust behind it in a long plume. A pileup of six cars blocked the road, and a dozen others had stopped to help. They jounced over a rise, and a loud crack sounded beneath them. The truck slewed from side to side and finally rolled to a stop. The smell of burning oil filled the cab.

“End of the line,” Max said. She looked at Alexander. “Get the others out. I’ll help Baker and Holt.”

He went around to the rear. The curtain of wild magic was only fifty or sixty feet away. They were not going to outrun it. He opened the shell and the tailgate, waving everyone out. “Come on. Let’s go!” His passengers were pale and breathless with fear. Each sported new bumps and bruises from the rough ride. “You have to hurry. It is coming on quick.”

The father who’d been pulling the boat and his two sons scrambled out and pulled the still unconscious Amanda out with them. Her husband crawled forward, clutching his daughter’s car seat to his stomach. Alexander took it from him and lifted him out before passing the baby back. Ignoring their questions and rising panic, he swung around to the side of the truck where Max was helping Baker and Holt.

He stopped dead. She had ripped the tape from Holt’s wrists and was unwinding the chain from his neck. She pulled it free. Her eyes met Alexander’s, reading his shock and anger. She held the chain up.

“This is the best chance these people have to come out of this. We can’t waste it on Holt.”

She was right. With luck, the witch chain would counter the wild magic and keep their passengers safe. He nodded shortly. She flipped up the backseat and pulled out a second chain. She looked at the mage. “Can you do anything about Baker’s leg? He’ll only slow us down.”

Holt eyed her, scrutinizing her from head to foot like she was an alien from another planet. Alexander sympathized. Max never did the expected.

“You want me to help you?” Holt asked incredulously.

“I want you to help him,” she said, jerking her chin at Baker, who was biting his lips, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes. “After that, if you’ve got a few minutes before you start stalking the woman who’s been trying to ditch you for the last few years, I want you to help us take these people to safety.”

Holt crossed his arms. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t. But if these people get fucked because you didn’t bother to help, then I’d probably take it personally. I’d probably make a point of getting revenge. We’re out of time. What are you going to do?”

He smiled. “You know, your threats don’t scare me.”

“That’s because you don’t know me very well yet, Zippy.”

Holt smiled wider. “What’s in it for me?” He turned a speculative glance at a seething Alexander. “I might be willing if you tell me where Valery went.”

Alexander looked at Max. If she demanded it of him, would he do it? He couldn’t. But if Max asked—

His stomach turned to cold lead as he silently begged her not to make him choose.

“The only thing in it for you is the warm, fuzzy feeling you get when you do a good deed,” she told Holt. “And since you’ve probably never experienced it in your entire sorry life, you might get a real high out of it. So what’s it going to be?”

“You’re a real bitch on wheels, aren’t you? All right. We’re headed in the same direction anyhow. Might as well give you a hand.”

“What a prince,” she said. “Help Baker.”

She handed one of the witch chains to Alexander. “Put a loop around everybody’s wrist. Hopefully the magic isn’t stronger than the chains. Oh, and one more thing—Holt’s right. I
am
a bitch. But did you really think I’d tell you to sell out your sister, Slick?”

There was a wealth of fury and hurt in her voice. Before he could answer, she walked away.

Holt followed his glance. “That’s one hell of a woman,” he murmured appreciatively.

“Keep your damned hands to yourself,” Alexander snapped, and was rewarded with a gloating laugh. He started to put the chain around the baby’s wrist, but Holt stopped him.

“Better take the baby out of that seat. It might turn into something that will eat her,” Holt said.

“What?” Baker exclaimed. “You can’t be serious.”

Alexander blew out a harsh breath and started to unbuckle the seat, pushing aside the father’s resistant hands. “Unfortunately, things do not get more serious.”

Chapter 10

MAX APPROACHED THE FATHER OF THE TWO teenage boys, anger sizzling inside her. She didn’t throw innocent people under the bus for any reason. Alexander ought to know that about her, if nothing else.

“Give me your arms.”

The man glowered at her, unmoving. He was probably around forty years old, slim and fit, with brown hair clipped close over the ears. His sons were lanky, with torn jeans and faded T-shirts. One had hair dyed solid black and combed over his eyes, and the older one wore the short bleached tips of his brown hair pushed up in a ridge down the middle of his head. They stood just behind their father, hands jammed into their pockets, looking terrified. Amanda was lying on the ground, unconscious.

“Tell me what the hell is going on,” the father demanded. “Who are you, and what is that?”

He pointed at the nearing curtain of wild magic. It was like the leading edge of a rainstorm, except this rain fell in swirling, twisting clumps and droplets. It was so thick it was difficult to see more than twenty feet or so inside.

How did she tell this ordinary man that it was magic? That fairy tales were true and that he was about to walk into the worst one ever? No happily ever afters, just wild magic that could do just about anything, if Holt was telling the truth. Max didn’t think he was lying. The ground continued to shudder and buckle with the force of what was happening inside the growing magical storm, and what she could see inside the leading edge had lumped and writhed before vanishing behind the fall of crimson.

Still, she had to say something, or they would stand here like idiot deer and get butchered. She scraped her fingers through her hair.

“All right. All of you, listen to me. I’m only going to say this once, and you don’t get to ask questions. We don’t have time. Here’s the nutshell version, and as much as you aren’t going to want to believe it, there’s your proof.”

She pointed at the closing curtain of red. Except it really wasn’t a curtain. The leading edge dropped the red seeds of magic like embers from fireworks. The mist closed in behind it, or rose up from it—Max had no idea.

“What you’re looking at is pure magic straight out of Grimms’ Fairy Tales. This chain should protect you from it. Let go, and you might turn into goblins or trolls or rocks. We’re going to try to lead you to safety. There’s a good chance it won’t extend too far north.”

“Who
are
you?” Baker asked, staring down at Holt, who was chanting, his hands clasped around the other man’s thigh.

The mage’s hex marks writhed, and coppery light twined around the injured man’s leg.

“I’m Max, that’s Alexander,” she said, pointing to him, “and the man healing your leg is Holt.”

“
What
are you?” asked the baby’s father, his voice low and breathless.

“We’re what is going to keep you safe, if you let us. Now, let us fasten this chain on you before it’s too late.”

The father of the two teenage boys held his arm out reluctantly.

“What are your names?” Max asked as she tied the chain firmly to his wrist. Witch chain tied like twine and yet ran through her hands with the liquid heaviness of finely worked metal.

“I’m Geoff Brewer. These are my sons, Josh and David.”

She finished tying them together. “No matter what you see, don’t pull loose of this chain for any reason. It might be the last thing you do.”

Alexander was finishing with Matthew, the father of the baby. “What about Amanda?” he asked, his voice rising in panic as Alexander skipped her and chained up Baker.

“She doesn’t need the chain to protect her,” Holt said, straightening from his crouch.

Baker took a tentative step, shock making his mouth drop open. “How did you do that? I couldn’t walk—the pain—it’s all gone!”

“I’m a mage,” Holt said smugly.

“What do you mean, she doesn’t need it?” Matthew was struggling against his bonds. Alexander had tied a length of chain around the man’s waist and looped it around both of the baby’s legs before tying in Baker.

“Witches don’t need protection,” Max said bluntly.

Matthew’s mouth gaped.

“Witch?” one of the boys repeated, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

Holt bent over the prone woman, brushing his fingers over her forehead. He straightened and nodded. “No doubt about it.”

“I will carry her,” Alexander said, picking her up and slinging her over his shoulders. One arm wrapped her thighs, and the other held one of her arms. He looked at Max. “I’ll take the lead.”

She nodded. “Holt and I will watch our flanks. If trouble comes, don’t stop. Get them out of here.”

He nodded and turned away without arguing about her taking risks or admonishing her to be careful. She’d braced herself for both, expecting to have to remind him of her capabilities and that she was a Shadowblade Prime. She let out a small sigh, her anger toward him cooling. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, either.

He took the lead, holding on to the end of the chain tying Matthew and his daughter to Baker. Max tied off the end of her chain to Baker’s as well, and she and Holt walked on either side of the small column as guards.

She glanced back. The creeping mist was maybe twenty feet away. Inside it, she could see shadows, some as tall as skyscrapers. Shapes twisted and moved, sprawling over the ground and rising like waves hitting a rocky headland. It was like the world inside was rearranging itself.

The ground rumbled and growled and jolted. She felt drunk as she staggered over the moving earth. She slipped a knife into her hand. What if it wasn’t just a magical forest or a glass mountain sprouting up in there? Fairy tales came loaded with a horde of vicious beasties. Keeping the wild magic from changing her little band of survivors into eggplant Parmesan was one thing; staying alive was another kettle of piranha altogether.

Alexander broke into a slow jog. Amanda’s head bounced against his shoulder, and behind him, Matthew struggled to run with his daughter pressed to his chest. Max fell back behind. Holt soon joined her.

“So if we’re attacked, are you going to cover your own ass or help me?” she asked. “I’d rather know now if I can count on you.”

“I said I would help.”

“How far are you willing to take it? Valery didn’t seem to think you’re the till-death-do-us-part kind of guy. If you bailed on her, what kind of loyalty are you going to have for someone like me who tied you up and held you prisoner?”

His face hardened; his eyes turned scorching. “Valery left me,” he said tautly. “I never bailed on her.”

“You must have done something to piss her off. She didn’t strike me as all that flighty and impulsive.”

“I—” He broke off, his face twisting with the violence of hard-held emotions.

“Did I hit a nerve?” Max asked.

“As I told you before, it is complicated,” he said, enunciating each word carefully.

“When isn’t it complicated? But hey, not my problem. That’s between you and your ex. All I want to know is if you’re going to throw me to the wolves when they’re gnawing at our feet. After all, saving these people doesn’t require covering my ass, now does it?”

“And if I say yes, you’ll believe me?”

“I might. If you say it with feeling.”

He laughed suddenly. “You’re a bitch coming and going, aren’t you?”

“So they tell me.” Max grinned. Despite herself, she liked Holt. She could see what had drawn Valery to him in the first place. He had a kind of razor charm and an unexpected humor that made him likable, despite being a mage and an arrogant ass.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see what I do,” he said. “Don’t you love a good surprise?”

“Only if I’m the one springing it.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He chuckled, then sobered. “Why are you helping these people? What’s in it for you?”

She shook her head. And the rat bastard came scurrying back. “Does there have to be something in it for me?”

“What’s the point of risking yourself if not?”

“Is it always about the bottom line with you? Do you ever do anything without expecting something in return?”

“Not really.”

“No wonder Valery divorced you.”

“She didn’t divorce me,” he said through gritted teeth. “Caramaras don’t get divorced. When I catch up with her, we’ll get that settled once and for all.”

“If you catch up with her.”

“She’d better hope I find her first,” he said, and a flicker of fear danced through his eyes so fast that Max wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it.

“So why help us? If you only do things for payment, what are you expecting?”

“Alexander will owe me. You saw him. He’d have told me how to find Valery if you’d ordered him to. If I happen to save your life, then he might just feel obligated to share the information.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. She’s his family.”

“And he’s in love with you.”

Max ground to a halt, staring slack-jawed at the mage. “Where the hell do you get that from?”

“Aw, is that one of those surprises you don’t like?” He grabbed her arm and jerked her forward. “Stopping is probably a bad idea right now.”

She started her stumbling jog again. “He is not in love with me.”

But electricity was racing through her, and her blood pounded with the possibility. What if he was? No, she didn’t want that. Did she? Fuck no. Even if Scooter wasn’t waiting for her, there were a dozen other things that made it an insane idea. Like the fact that Giselle wouldn’t hesitate to use him against her; like the fact that no one at Horngate trusted him; like the fact that screwing around with one of her own Shadowblades would make everyone question her decisions. Not to mention the fact that letting people get that close made you stupid.

She sought out his form ahead of the others. He’d made it clear that he wanted her, whatever that meant, but love? That was too much. Holt was wrong. And if he wasn’t, it was a can of worms she didn’t want to open.

“Ready now,” Holt said, looking upward.

A rain of scarlet fell softly toward them. It clumped in thick tufts, some the size of melons. Some of it was no bigger than an eyelash. It whirled and drifted on a wind Max couldn’t see or feel.

She and Holt closed the distance on their companions.

“Things are about to get weird,” she told them. “Don’t let go of that chain.”

They all were looking up now, fear making them bunch together and stop.

“Keep moving,” she ordered.

Alexander tugged on the end of the chain, and they started forward again.

More of the wild magic filled the air, swirling around them like a red blizzard. A heady, sweet smell filled her nose and flooded her mouth. It tasted of honey and oranges and burned down into her lungs with every breath. The heat was searing, and yet it filled her with strength and energy like she’d never felt before. The ground lifted and rolled like a wave in the ocean. Max staggered and fell to one knee. Holt lurched against her, and she held him steady.

Then the world around them exploded.

The weight of Holt vanished. Dust and clods of dirt filled the air, and Max was blinded. She coughed, her mouth filling with dirt. Something hit her cheek, slicing her to the bone. Flying rocks and debris hammered her from every side.

The ground dropped away. Max swung her arms wildly. They tangled in a vine. She clutched it with one hand, swinging like a pendulum in the dirt-choked air. The surface of the vine was warm and nobby. It stretched in her hand, growing and widening, splaying her fingers apart until she could no longer hold it. She dropped her knife and reached up to grip it with her other hand, clawing her fingers into it. The outer layer gave, and sticky coldness seeped down over her skin. The massive vine jerked and swung her from side to side.

She kicked, trying to swing her legs up to grab the vine for a better hold. Before she could, something grabbed her left ankle, and sharp pains drilled into her calf. A second later, her right foot was captured. Both legs went numb, and something smooth and wet slid up to her waist.

It was like she was caught in cement. She could swivel her hips but little else. Max gripped harder on her handhold above and tried to draw herself up. She didn’t budge. She could hardly feel her legs now, and sharp prickles circled her waist.

“Alexander! Holt!” She coughed again as dust filled her mouth and nose. No one answered. She called again and thought she heard a faint noise off to her right. She strained to listen. Not far away, she heard a guttural panting and a high-pitched whining-buzzing sound like flies and ants arguing over a picnic. A thrum vibrated through the air, the sound so deep it could only be felt, not heard. Other sounds rose now, too—chirps of birds, barks of squirrels, squeals, purrs, squeaks, and so much more. In the distance, she heard splashing.

The dust began to settle. Max caught her breath in amazement. The panorama that spread out before her was primordial. Gone was the flat plane of the valley. All that remained was Mount Shasta, still spewing wild magic from its cone. The snow looked glassy and sparkled like cut crystal. The lower slopes vanished into a lush forest that spread over a broken landscape of hills and gorges, bald tors and sharp ridges. The foliage was dark green, almost black. Wild magic still spun in the air, but Max could see that Holt had been right. The bulk of it was blowing southward on a crimson wind. She swallowed. She had to get to Winters before the wild magic did.
If anyone is still alive.

She refused to consider it. Instead, she examined her predicament. She was on the edge of a cliff. Far below, a gold river cut through the steep-sided gorge. She was naked—her clothes and weapons no doubt changed by the wild magic. Her legs were encased in a sickly green, nacreous material that was solid from the knees down, breaking apart into a delicate lace patterning over her thighs and waist. Blood welled from beneath the filigree and was absorbed into the shiny green casing with a faint wet sound.

Bile flooded her tongue. It was eating her.

She looked up. She was gripping a long orange and black limb as big around as she was. Its smooth surface was studded with flat calluses. Where her fingers dug through its skin, she could see pale yellow flesh. Yellow liquid ran down over her hands and arms, smelling faintly like carrion.