Dance of the Gods (28 page)

Her hand trembled in Hoyt's as the power spun round the circle. With her eyes still cast up, she saw the battle rage. Flashing lights, gushing black clashing together like swords to raise a thunder that sent the ground to quiver.

“We refute the dark magicks!” Hoyt shouted. “We cast them back, we cast them out. We call the sun to flame through the false night.”

Overhead the war between the black and the white raged on.

 

B
lair swam dizzily toward consciousness, and into
the pain. She felt the wind rush by her, and thought she saw the blur of land below.

Flying? She was flying? Is this what happened after you were dead? But if she was dead, why the hell did she hurt so much?

She tried to move, but she was tied down, strapped in. Or maybe her body simply refused to work any longer. Then she managed to turn her head, and she was looking up at a golden throat.

She thought: Larkin. Then floated away once more.

He felt her stir, gently tightened his grip in hopes it would reassure her, make her feel more secure. He angled his head to look down at her, but her eyes were already closing again.

She looked so pale. She felt so fragile.

He'd left her alone.

He would live, all of his life, he would live with the image of her bleeding, left with nothing more than a tree branch for defense while monsters circled her like vultures.

If he'd been even seconds later, she would be dead. Because he hadn't been with her. He'd seen to the safety of
others, and he'd tarried just a little longer so a young girl could pet his wings.

When the darkness had come, he hadn't been with her.

The fear ate through him that no matter how fast he'd flown to reach her, no matter if he'd stopped the three demons who'd stalked her from feeding, he'd still been too late to save her life.

Even when he saw the castle, the fear gnawed. He saw Moira rush out, and Hoyt, Glenna, his father and others. But still he knew nothing but that fear.

He'd barely touched the ground when he changed, and held Blair in his arms. “She's hurt. She's hurt.”

“Bring her in, quickly.” Sprinting alongside him, Glenna reached over to check the pulse in Blair's throat. “Up to her room. I'll get what I need. Moira, go with him, do what you can for her. I'll be quick.”

“How bad?” Cian swung around to rush up the stairs beside Glenna.

“I don't know. Pulse is weak, thready. Her face…she took a beating.”

“Bites?”

“I didn't see any.” She grabbed her healing kit from her room, dashed out again.

Larkin had laid Blair on the bed, and stood as Moira laid hands on Blair's face, her shoulders, her heart.

“How long has she been unconscious?” Glenna snapped as she swept in.

“I…I don't know. She fainted,” Larkin managed. “I had to…her shoulder, it was out of the joint. I had to…she fainted when I snapped it back. I think she came around once on the way back, but I can't be sure. The dark, it came. I wasn't with her, and they set on her, and she was alone.”

“You brought her back. Moira, help me get her coat off, her clothes. I have to see where she's hurt.”

Cian stepped up himself to take off her boots.

“The men should go,” Moira began.

“She isn't the first I've seen naked, and I don't think
she'd be worried about it. How many were there?” Cian asked Larkin.

“She said ten. Ten and the French one as well. There were only three when I got to her.”

“She made them pay.” Cian gently tugged down her pants.

Glenna bit back a sound of distress as she saw the bruising, the cuts. “Ribs.” She made her voice brisk. “Probably kidney. Bruised. Shoulder's bad, too. The gash on her leg is fairly shallow. But God, her knee. Not broken, at least. Nothing broken.”

“She…” Larkin reached down, took one of Blair's limp hands. “She said her vision was going double. Concussion, she said.”

Now Glenna spoke gently. “Why don't you step out? Let Moira and me take care of her.”

“No, I won't leave her again. She had pain. A lot of pain. You need to give her something that will take away the pain.”

“I will, I promise I'll give her what I can for it. Why don't you build up the fire then? I want it warm for her.”

Blair could hear them, the voices. She couldn't quite separate one from the other or pick out words, but the sounds were enough to assure her she was alive.

The pain spoke to her as well and that told her she'd gotten her ass thoroughly kicked.

She caught scents as well now. Peat smoke, Glenna, and something strong and floral. But when she tried to open her eyes, they wouldn't cooperate. That had panic trickling into her chest like nasty little drops of acid.

Coma? She didn't want to be in a coma. People fell into comas and sometimes they never climbed out. She'd rather be dead than trapped inside the dark, hearing, feeling, but not being able to see or speak.

Then she felt something slide over her, like silk. Just a flutter over her skin, under it, then deeper, deeper still to where the pain was clenched in fists.

Then the silk heated, then it burned. Oh God. And the fire of it forced those fists open until the pain spread and broke into a thousand jagged pieces.

Her eyes flew open in blinding light that had her flailing out.

“Son of a
bitch
!” In her mind she screamed it, but it came out as a hoarse croak.

She sucked in breath to curse again, but the worst of it ebbed and became a slow, steady throbbing.

“It hurts, I know, it hurts to heal. Can you look at me? Blair? No, stay up here now, and look at me.”

Blair forced her eyes open again. Glenna swam into view, her face close. Her hand cupped the back of Blair's neck, lifted it gently up. “Drink a little of this. Just a little now. I can't give you too much because of the head trauma. But this will help.”

Blair swallowed, winced. “Tastes like liquid tree bark.”

“Not that far off. Do you know where you are?”

“I'm back.”

“What's your name?”

“Blair Murphy. Do you want rank and serial number?”

Glenna's lips curved. “How many fingers?”

“Two and a half. Vision's a little blurry.” But she struggled to use it, to see. The room was full of people, she realized—the whole team. “Hey. Dorothy, Scarecrow, the Tin Man.” She realized then her hand was gripping Larkin's, probably hard enough to grind bone to bone. She relaxed her fingers, managed a smile. “Thanks for saving my life back there.”

“It was no trouble. You'd taken care of most of it yourself.”

“I was done.” She closed her eyes again. “Tapped out.”

“I shouldn't have left you alone.”

“Cut that out.” Blair would have given him a light punch to go with the words if she'd had the strength. “It's wrong and it's useless.”

“Why did you?” Cian asked him. “Why did you separate?”

As Larkin told them about the injured man, Blair closed her eyes again. She could hear Glenna and Moira murmuring to each other. Floating a little, she thought Glenna had a voice like silk—sort of sexy and sleek. Moira's was more like velvet, soft and warm.

And that was a really strange thought, she decided. But at least she was having thoughts.

As they worked on her, the pain bloomed, then backed off, bloomed and died. She began to anticipate the rhythm of it before she made another realization.

“Am I naked?” She would have pushed up to her elbows, at least tried to, if Glenna hadn't eased her back. “I'm naked. Oh man.”

“You're covered well enough with a sheet. We had to see your injuries,” Glenna told her. “You're pretty well covered with gashes and bruises, too, so I wouldn't worry about modesty right now.”

“My face.” Blair lifted a hand to feel for herself. “How bad is my face?”

“Modesty and vanity,” Glenna said. “Good signs. You wouldn't make the finals of the Miss Demon Hunter contest at the moment, but you look damn good to me.”

“You're beautiful.” Larkin took her hand, kissed it. “You couldn't be more beautiful.”

“That bad, huh? Well, I heal fast. Not as fast as you guys,” she said to Cian, “but fast enough.”

“Can you tell us what happened when you and Larkin were apart?” Hoyt touched her ankle. “He said there were ten.”

“Yeah, ten, and Lora, so that's eleven. Trap worked. Dead horse down there, and weapons. We should get those weapons. They were in the ground.”

“The weapons?” Hoyt prompted.

“No, the vamps. Dug into the ground. Trap in a trap. It got dark—bam. Like a solar eclipse, but faster. And they came up out of the ground. I got the first two before they got all the way out. Realized after, later, they weren't trying to
kill me—which to be honest, is why I'm not dead. They were just softening me up for her. Cowardly bitch.”

“But you killed her.”

She shook her head at Larkin, and immediately regretted the movement. “No. Don't think so. Couldn't have taken her in a fight, could barely keep my feet. She knew it. Comes strutting out, talking trash. Thinks she'll make me her lesbian vamp lover. As if. She's hurting now, too, oh yeah. And she doesn't look so good either. Water bag.”

“Holy water,” Larkin murmured. “Aren't you the clever one?”

“Everything's a weapon. I tossed as much as I could into her face. Hit her, too. Face, down the throat. I heard her screaming when she ran off. But that was it for me, pretty much all I had left. Good thing you came.”

“You had a branch.”

“A branch of what?”

“A tree branch,” he told her, kissing her fingers again. “You were swinging a tree branch.”

“Yeah. Huh, good for me. It's sort of blurry here and there.”

“That's enough for now.” Glenna held the cup back to Blair's lips. “A little more of this.”

“Rather have a frozen margarita.”

“Who wouldn't?” Glenna passed a hand over Blair's face. “Now sleep.”

S
he swam in and out, and the pain was waiting
each time she surfaced. Weakness would drag her under again, but not before she heard whispers and murmurs. Not before she heard herself answering questions that seemed to be peppered over her every time she came back to the world.

Why wouldn't they just let her sleep?

Then someone would pour more tree bark down her throat, and she'd float away again.

Sometimes when she floated she went back to that field and relived every blow, every block, every movement of what she'd believed were the last moments of her life.

Sometimes she simply floated into nothing.

Larkin sat beside her, watching as Moira and Glenna took turns tending her. Watching as one of them came in to light candles, or add turf to the fire. Or just lay a hand over Blair's brow to check for fever.

Every two hours by the clock, one of them would wake her, ask questions of her. Because of the concussion,
Glenna had said. It was a precaution because she'd suffered such hard blows to her head.

Then he would think what might have happened if one of those blows had knocked her unconscious, what they would have done to her while she was alone.

Every time he thought of it, imagined it, he'd take her hand to feel her pulse beat under the scar on her wrist.

He passed the time talking nonsense to her, and for a time playing the pipe that Moira had brought to him. He thought—he hoped—she rested easier with the music.

“You should go, rest now for an hour or two.” Moira stroked a hand down her hair as she spoke. “I'll sit with her.”

“I can't.”

“No. Nor could I in your place. She's so strong, Larkin, and Glenna so skilled. I wish you wouldn't worry so.”

“I didn't know it was inside me. That I could feel so much for one person. That I could know, without question, without a single doubt, that this woman is…well, everything there is for me.”

“I knew it. Not that it would be her, but that there would be someone. And that when you found her, she'd change everything.” Moira bent to press her lips to the top of his head. “I'm a little jealous. Do you mind?”

“No.” He turned her head, pressed his face to her side. “I'll love you all my life. I think I could be a thousand miles from you, and still reach out my hand and touch yours.”

Tears stung Moira's eyes. “I couldn't have chosen better for you if I'd chosen her myself. Still, she's the luckiest of women.”

“She's waking.”

“All right, talk to her now. We'll keep her with us a few moments, then I'll give her more medicine.”

“There you are.” Larkin spoke quietly, standing to take her hand. “
Mo chroi
. Open your eyes.”

“What?” They fluttered open. “What is it?”

“Give me your name now.”

“Scarlett O'Hara. Can't you remember it for five minutes?” she said testily. “Blair Murphy. I don't have brain damage. I'm just tired and annoyed.”

“She's lucid enough,” Moira decided, and poured more of Glenna's potion into a cup.

“I don't want any more of that.” Hearing the petulance in her own voice, Blair closed her eyes a moment. “Look, I don't mean to be pissy. Or, okay, maybe I do. So what? But that gunk makes me feel foggy and out of it. Which wouldn't be so bad if someone wasn't waking me up every freaking ten minutes to ask me my name.”

Not at all displeased with the rant, Moira set the cup aside. “Glenna said I should wake her if Blair refused.”

“Oh jeez, don't go get Nurse Rachett.”

“I'll be a moment.”

Larkin eased down on the side of the bed as Moira slipped out of the room. “Your color's come back, you know. It's a relief to me.”

“I bet I'm all kinds of colors right now. Blue, black, purple, that sick-looking yellow. Good thing it's dark in here. Look, you don't have to hang around.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate it. But…listen, can we talk about something other than me and my severely kicked ass? Tell me something. Tell me…when's the first time you knew you could shape-shift?”

“Oh, I'd have been about three. I wanted a puppy, you see. My father had his wolfhounds, but they were too dignified to play with the likes of me, to chase balls around and fetch sticks.”

“A puppy.” She relaxed with the sound of his voice. “What kind of puppy.”

“Oh, any sort would do, but my mother said she wasn't after having another dog in the house, and that she already had me and the baby to deal with. That would be my brother, who would have been barely more than a year old.
And I was unaware at the time she was already carrying my sister as well.”

“Small wonder she wasn't up for housebreaking a dog.”

“She's been in to see you, my mother. Twice tonight. My sister, my father as well.”

“Oh.” Blair patted her face, imagined how she looked. “Terrific.”

“So, to continue the tale, I begged for the pup relentlessly, and to no avail. She would not be moved. I had a good sulk about it up in the nursery, imagining running off with the gypsies where I could have as many pups as I pleased, and so on. And I kept thinking about the pup, and then there was this…moving inside me. And this light was spinning around. I was frightened, and called out for my mother. And barked.”

“You turned into a puppy.”

Her eyes were clearer now; he could see it, see the fun in them as he told the story. “Oh, what terror—and what a thrill with it. I couldn't have a puppy, so I'd made myself one, and wasn't that an amazing thing.”

“I'd make some crack about being able to play with yourself, but it's a cheap shot. Keep going.”

“Well now, I went running out, and down the stairs where my mother caught sight of me. And thinking I'd gone and snuck a pup in the house despite her, she set off chasing me. I thought she'd hide me good when she realized what I'd done, and tried to run outside. But she cornered me. She's always been quick. Hauled me up, she did, by the scruff of the neck. I must have whimpered and looked plain pitiful, for she sighed, deep, and scratched my ears.”

“Softie.”

“Aye, she's a good, warm heart my mother. I heard her speak, plain as day. That boy, she said, what am I to do with that boy. And with you, she said to me—not knowing I
was
that boy. She sat down with me in her lap. When she began to pet me, I turned back.”

“And when she regained consciousness?”

“Oh, she's made of sterner stuff than that, my mam. I remember her eyes popped wide—but mine must've been as big. I threw my arms around her neck, so glad to be a boy again. She laughed and laughed. Her granny, it seemed, had the same skill.”

“Excellent. So it's a family trait.”

“Here and there, it seems. By the end of the week, her granny, who I swear was older than the moon itself, came to stay with us and teach me what I needed to know. And she brought with her a little spotted puppy I named Conn, for the warrior of a thousand battles.”

“That's a nice story.” Her eyelids began to droop. “What happened to Conn?”

“He lived twelve good years, then went over the Bridge of Rainbows where he could be a puppy again, and play all day in the sun. Sleep now,
a ghrá
. I'll be with you when you wake.”

He glanced over as Glenna came quietly in, and even managed a smile. “She's gone off to sleep again. Natural sleep. That would be good, wouldn't it?”

“Yes. No fever,” Glenna said after laying her palm on Blair's forehead. “If she refused the medicine, I'd guess the pain's lessened. And her color's good. Moira says you won't leave her.”

“How can I?”

“If it were Hoyt, I'd say the same. But why don't you lie down with her, get a little rest yourself?”

“I might jostle her in sleep. I don't want to hurt her.”

“You won't hurt her.” Glenna moved to the windows, drawing the drapes. “I don't want the sun to wake either of you. If you need me, come for me, or send for me. But I think she'll rest easy enough for a few hours now.”

She put a hand on Larkin's shoulder, then leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Lie down beside her for a while, and do the same.”

When he did, Blair stirred and turned, just a little, just
enough so that her body curled toward his. As gently as he could, he took her hand. “She'll pay for what she did to you. I swear to you, she'll pay.”

Listening to her low, steady breathing, he closed his eyes. And finally slept.

 

I
n another room a fire blazed, and the drapes were
drawn tight against the glass. Against the dawn.

Lora's wild wails echoed through the room. She thrashed as Lilith, once again, slathered a pale green balm over the burns and the boils that covered Lora's face, her neck, even her breasts.

“There, there, don't. Don't, my darling, my sweet, sweet girl. Don't fight me. This will help.”

“It burns! It burns!”

“I know.” Tears gathered in Lilith's throat, in her eyes, as she coated the vicious burns on Lora's neck. “Oh, my poor baby, I know. Here now, there now. Drink a little of this.”

“I don't want it!” Lora turned her head away, clamping her eyes and mouth tightly shut.

“But you must.” Though it scored her heart to cause Lora more pain, Lilith took a firm grip on the back of Lora's neck to force some of the liquid down. “Just a bit more, just a bit. Good, that's good, my own darling.”

“She hurt me. Lilith, she hurt me.”

“Hush, hush now. We'll fix it.”

“She scarred me.” Fresh tears spilled over the balm as Lora once again turned her face away. “I'm ugly and scarred. How can you even look at me after what she did to my face?”

“You're only more beautiful to me now. More precious to me.” She laid her lips, gently, gently, on Lora's. Lilith had allowed no one else to tend Lora but herself. No one, she vowed, would touch that burned skin but herself. “You're my sweetest girl. My bravest.”

“I had to hide in the dirt!”

“Ssh. It means nothing. You came back to me.” Lilith took Lora's hand, turning it palm up to press kisses there. “I have you back.”

The door opened, and Davey came in. He carried a crystal goblet on a silver tray, his lips pressed hard in concentration. “I didn't spill any. Not one drop.”

“Such a big boy.” Lilith took the goblet, ran her other hand down his hair.

Once again, Lora turned her face away. “He shouldn't see me like this.”

“No. He should know what they're capable of, these
mortals
. Come, Davey, come sit with our Lora. Gently now, don't jostle her.”

He climbed carefully onto the bed. “Does it hurt very bad?”

Lora nodded. “Very bad.”

“I wish it didn't. I can bring you a toy.”

In spite of the pain, Lora smiled. “Perhaps later.”

“I brought you blood. It's still warm. I didn't sneak any,” he added, stroking her hand as he'd seen Lilith do. “Mama said you need it all, so you can be strong and well again.”

“That's right. Here now.” Lilith held the goblet to Lora's lips. “Drink it, but slowly.”

The blood calmed her, and the drug Lilith had given her earlier helped fog the worst of the pain. “It helps.” She laid back, shut her eyes. “But I feel so weak. I thought, oh, Lilith, I thought at first I'd been blinded. It burned my eyes so. She tricked me. How could I have been so
stupid
?”

“You mustn't blame yourself. No, I won't have it.”

“You should be furious with me.”

“How could I be, at such a time? We've centuries together, my love, the good and the bad. Can I say you were foolish? Of course, but I might have done the same. What good is the kill without the flourish?” She lowered the bodice of her robes to reveal the pentagram scar between
her breast. “Don't I carry this because I toyed too long with a mortal once?”

“Hoyt.” Lora spat out the name. “You battled a sorcerer. There was no magic in that bitch who scarred me.”

“When Mama kills the sorcerer, I can lap up his blood like a puppy does milk.”

Lilith laughed, ruffled Davey's hair. “That's my boy. And don't be sure that demon hunter is without magic.” She reached for Davey, setting him on her lap. “I don't believe she could have hurt you so without it.”

“She was hurt, at least. Perhaps mortally.”

“There, you see, always a bright side.” Lilith kissed Davey. “It's Midir who must do better. Didn't night slip through his fingers? Didn't the white magic defeat his?”

Lilith had to take a moment to calm herself over the outrage of her wizard's incompetence. “I'd be rid of him if we had another nearly as powerful. But I promise you this, I swear this to you. They will pay. You'll bathe in her blood come Samhain, my darling girl. We'll all drink, long and deep. And when I rule, you'll be by my side.”

Comforted, Lora reached out. “Will you stay awhile longer? Will you stay while I sleep?”

“Of course. We're family, after all.”

 

B
lair woke in stages. Her mind stirred first, circling
slowly around where she was, what had happened. Her head began to ache in a low, steady drumming, then her eyes throbbed with it. She became aware of other pain—shoulder, ribs, belly, legs. As she lay quiet, taking stock, she realized there wasn't a spot on her that didn't hurt.

But it was manageable rather than the breath stealing pain that had flattened her. The aftertaste of the potion Glenna had poured down her coated her throat. Not horribly unpleasant, she decided. Just sort of smoky and thick, so that she wished for a gallon or two of water to clear it away.