Magic Binds (38 page)

A ring of fighters waited for me.

They charged me and I danced. It was a beautiful dance, of blood and steel and severed life. My breathing evened out. The world was crystal clear, the sounds crisp, the colors vivid. Everything I tried worked. Every strike found its target. Every thrust pierced a body. They cut and slashed, but I didn't wait for them. I kept cutting, losing myself in the simple rhythm.

They'd come here to kill me. They died instead. Corpses piled up at my feet. My aunt was laughing. And then they broke and ran.

I looked up. The wall of black flames was thinning. I could almost see through it.

“Retreat!” I screamed. “Retreat now!”

The green-striped vampires fled from the field toward the Keep. Once the wall went down, my father would be able to reach them. The bloodsuckers would die by the dozens and so would the navigators piloting them.

I turned. The black smoke had dissipated. The entire front of my father's army was gone. Mammoths lay like burial mounds of fur. Bodies, vampire and human, sprawled on the grass.

Most of the remaining army gathered around my father, forming a mass of bodies. I saw Curran roaring, enormous, demonic, tearing into monsters left and right. The mercs followed in his wake.

My father froze in his chariot, his face bloodless. One moment he had a vanguard and now it was all gone. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking to the left. I turned my head and saw the sea of green-and-blue banners the bloodsuckers had left thrust into the dirt as they retreated.

“Glory to In-Shinar!”

The hair on the back of my neck rose.

I spun around.

Julie sat on her horse, holding my banner. Her voice rolled, charged with power.
“Glory to In-Shinar!”

The air screamed as the first blast from Andrea's sorcerous ballistae tore through it. The green missiles shrieked over my head and pounded the front of my father's remaining force. Bodies flew, burning with magic fire. Andrea's ace in the hole.

My father raised his hands. A sphere of light appeared in front of him, shielding the troops. The missiles crashed into it, their magic splashing over the light and falling down, powerless.

My father brought his hands together. The corpse of the mammoth about two hundred yards to the left of me shuddered. Magic built within it, spilling out as thin green smoke. I reached for the magic around me and froze it, but the green smoke thickened. Whatever he was doing couldn't be blocked by the land's defenses. I started toward it, climbing over bodies.

The carcass burst. Three creatures emerged, clad in tattered rags. A foul magic wrapped around them. I had felt many fucked-up things over the years, but this . . . this felt like death. Every instinct I had screamed at me to turn and run the other way.

“Plaguewalkers,” my aunt snarled in my ear.

“Shapeshifters are resistant to disease.”

“Not this disease.”

I ran, scrambling over the bodies.

The plaguewalkers started toward the Keep.

A ballista missile smashed into the middle of the three and exploded. They kept walking. Shit. Magic didn't do anything. They had to be physically cut down.

Shapeshifters burst from the hole in the Keep wall. The first shapeshifter, a lean wolf in warrior form, reached the leading plaguewalker. Ten feet from it, the wolf collapsed, clawing at his face. Another shapeshifter, another fall.

Where the hell was my stupid horse?

The plaguewalkers moved forward. Arrows flew from the Keep and sank into the plaguewalkers, but they kept going. They would keep walking, just like that, until they walked straight into the Keep.

A huge Kodiak bear charged through the shapeshifter ranks. The leading plaguewalker raised his hand.

I heard Curran roar.

Lesions split Mahon's hide. He kept running, too fast, too massive to stop. Pus slid from the wounds, falling to the ground.

I was running as fast as I could.

The bear tore into the plaguewalkers. The massive paw crushed the first one's skull.

All of Mahon's fur was gone now. Pus drenched his sides. The great bear of Atlanta spun and slapped the second plaguewalker's head. The creature's skull cracked, like a broken egg.

The third plaguewalker raised his hands. A stream of foul magic poured from it. The flesh on Mahon's sides rotted away. Bone gaped through the holes. Oh my God.

The bear threw himself onto the last creature and missed, collapsing. I lunged between the plaguewalker and Mahon. The creature stared at me, its eyes glowing green dots on a rotting face.

I sliced. The plaguewalker flitted away, as if made of air.

The blood armor on my hands turned black. Bits of it began to chip away.

I thrust Sarrat into the plaguewalker's chest and withdrew. Foul slime dripped off the blade. The creature seemed no worse for wear. I wasn't doing enough damage.

Curran landed atop the plaguewalker and locked his hands on the creature's shoulders. The plaguewalker shrieked. Curran's hands blistered. He roared and tore the creature in half. The pieces of the plaguewalker's body went flying.

The first corpse was re-forming.

“Curran!” I screamed, pointing with my sword.

He spun around. The first plaguewalker was rising like a zombie from a horror movie.

A white tiger landed next to us. Dali opened her mouth and roared. Magic emanated from her, sliding over me like an icy burst of clear water. The pieces of the plaguewalkers rose up, melting as if the air itself consumed them.

She purified them. Wow.

I dropped to the ground by Mahon. The Bear shrank into a man. The skin on his torso was missing. His hands and face were a mess of boils. Oh God. Oh my God.

Curran, still in warrior form, knelt and cradled the dying man.

Mahon saw him. His lips shook. He struggled to say something.

“Best . . . son. Best . . . could ever have.”

“Shut up,” Curran told him. “You're not going anywhere.”

“Best . . .” Mahon whispered.

Nasrin knelt by Mahon, chanting.

Curran rose. His gaze fixed on my father's chariot.

My father had to die.

“We take the shot!” I yelled at him.

He glared at me, his eyes pure gold.

“I'm on my land. I'm strongest here. We can end this now!”

A pale light slid over his body. He fell on all fours, growing larger. All traces of humanity vanished. Only lion remained, the biggest lion I had ever seen, woven from bone, flesh, and magic. He wasn't human. He wasn't an animal. He was a force, a creature, a thing that was beyond the understanding of nature's human stepchildren.

I grabbed Curran's mane and vaulted onto his back. He didn't even notice. He charged across the battlefield toward the chariot and my father in it. We burst into the melee like a cannonball. He tore and bit. I sliced and cut, and we forced our way through the bodies, through the flesh and blood, closer and closer to my father.

He turned around.

He saw us coming.

Our gazes met.

Curran leapt, sailing above the mass of people. I raised Sarrat. We would end this here.

My father saw the promise of death in my eyes. In that fleeting instant he understood I knew we were bound and I didn't care.

We landed in an empty chariot. My father had vanished.

Curran roared. I clamped my hands over my ears as the chariot beneath me shook.

He leapt off the chariot and raged across the battlefield and I raged with him until there was nobody left to kill.

“W
HAT IS IN
this flower crown?” Fiona sniffed the air.

“Smells odd, doesn't it?” Andrea said.

“Good things,” Evdokia told her.

“She will thank us later.” Sienna winked at me.

I stood in a huge tent set up in the Five Hundred Acre wood, while Fiona, Andrea, and Julie put the final touches on my wedding outfit. The night had fallen, the magic was in full swing, and the tent was lit by bright golden globes Roman had found somewhere and set up. The light was warm and cheerful, the tent smelled of honeysuckle, and all my friends were here. For some odd reason I felt completely terrified.

The three witches of the Witch Oracle had come in to bring a flower crown woven of beautiful white flowers that looked like tiny tulips with pointed petals, and never left. Dali had come in for something and never left either. Desandra brought fruit and parked herself in the corner. Adora sat quietly by the entrance. I had a feeling she had decided to guard it. Martina, Ascanio's mother, was munching on some pastries next to her.

The flap of the tent opened and Martha came in, followed by George.

Behind her Mahon's voice roared. “I will have cider if I damn well please.”

Martha sighed. “The man is in a wheelchair. He lost half his weight. He's bald like a cue ball and all he wants is his cider.”

“Let Dad have his cider,” George said. “He earned it.”

“He'll be sick tonight, mark my words.”

George grinned. “Here, Kate, we brought you a glass of wine. For courage.”

Only three days had passed since the battle. I'd offered to postpone the wedding, but Curran insisted.

Martha walked up to me and patted my cheek. “You look beautiful. That boy has no idea how lucky he is.”

“I'm sorry. We should've waited.”

“No.” Something hot and angry flashed in the older woman's eyes. “Don't you dare be sorry. That man may have almost taken my husband from me, but he won't take the joy out of my son's wedding. We celebrate. That's what Mahon wants and this is what I want.”

Silence claimed the tent.

“Okay!” George said. “Now that Mom's done being scary, here is your wine.”

“Red wine?” Fiona squinted at the glass. “Kate, if you spill the wine on yourself, they'll bury you in this dress.”

“Maybe wine isn't a good idea,” George said.

It was a great idea. I took the wine and drained the glass.

People giggled. Rowena slipped into the tent and smiled at me.

Julie dabbed my mouth with a napkin. “Now we have to re-lipstick.”

“Will all of you stop?” I growled.

“Shut up,” Andrea said. “We're not done prettying you up.”

“I'm pretty enough as is.”

“Yes, yes, you are. You are the prettiest. Now hold still so I can fix your lipstick.”

“Try not to pass out,” Desandra said. “I almost passed out at my wedding. Of course, it was a really nasty wedding, but still.”

“What happens if he shows up?” Julie asked.

The tent went silent.

“He won't,” I said. “But if he does, I'll deal with it.”

“There.” Andrea stepped away. “Perfect.”

“Does she have all the things?” George asked. “Something old, something new . . .”

“The dress is new,” Fiona said.

“Something blue.” Sienna pointed to a single blue flower in my crown.

“Something old.” I touched the pendant around my neck. Martha smiled at me.

“Something borrowed?” Andrea looked around.

Rowena unclipped a small amber brooch from her dress and clipped it to me. “Here, you can borrow this.”

“Knock, knock,” Ascanio said outside the tent. “Is everybody clothed?”

“Yes,” Martina told him.

“That's a shame.” He stuck his head in. “Oh, hi, Mom.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Everybody is ready. Also Curran says if you want to elope, there's still time.”

“She doesn't want to elope!” Fiona said. “She wants to showcase this dress.”

“Roman says for you to come out and take your seats.”

“Okay, okay, we're coming.” Desandra got up. “Tell him to keep his black panties on.”

Ascanio squinted at me. “You are gorgeous, Alpha.”

“Go away,” Martina told him.

Everyone filed out of the tent one by one. Only the witches were left.

“The boy is right,” my aunt said next to me. “You make a passable bride. Miracle of miracles.”

“Thanks.”

The three witches stared at Erra by my side. I had taken her to them after the battle. We talked for a while. Plans were made. Curran wouldn't like them, but sometimes the hardest choice was the right one.

“We've talked with our people,” Evdokia said.

“What you suggested is possible,” Sienna said.

“We'll need a conduit,” Maria added.

“Then find one,” Erra said. “She is already doing enough.”

“It's easier said than done,” Evdokia said. “That's an awful lot of power to channel. A mere human won't do.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” I asked.

“It's a yes.” Evdokia looked like she was about to cry. “Unless we find another way.”

“There is no other way,” Erra said.

“We could ask the White Warlock,” Sienna said.

The two other women turned to her.

“You've lost your mind,” Evdokia said.

“Her? You want to ask that abomination?” Maria looked like she'd spit to the side, then thought better of it.

“She has enough power,” Sienna said.

“Come on.” Evdokia shepherded them out of the tent. “We'll talk about it later.”

The tent was empty except for me and my aunt. I looked in the mirror. My hair fell loose. The dress clasped my shoulders with white embroidery that shimmered as if made of silver. The breathtakingly patterned gown curved over my breasts, dipping between them lower than I would've ever dared, and hugged my waist before sliding over my hips and butt. The shimmering white skirt was all diaphanous layers, so thin that they moved even now at the slightest draft. The dress should've been heavy because of the embroidery, but instead it felt and looked so light, as if made of clouds. I looked like a fairy-tale princess.

I turned and walked to the tent flap. Outside a bonfire roared. Between the tent and the flames, tables stood groaning with food and flowers. The rows of chairs were filled with people: the Pack, the Masters of the Dead, Luther and the ifrit hound, the Order, Teddy Jo, Beau and his deputies . . .

Everybody was here. My heart hammered.

At the fire, Roman stood in a black robe etched with silver. Next to him Curran waited. He wore a tuxedo. Jim stood on his right. On the other side, Dali waited. She was my maid of honor.

Curran bent forward and said something to Roman. Roman nodded.

I was getting married. Dear God.

“Is he worth it?” Erra asked.

“Always.”

Music started, sweet and haunting. It was my cue to go on.

The magic was so thick tonight. It was all around me. The flower vines draped on the trees glowed weakly with a magical golden light, mirroring the strings of feylanterns strung above the tables. The woods didn't look real.

I would walk to the altar and I would get married. But I had to take that first step.

I swallowed and walked out. Everyone fell quiet. Curran turned. His mouth opened. He stared at me, like he'd never seen me before.

Just keep walking.

I reached the altar. A little girl stepped up next to me, holding a ring on a pillow. A little boy stood next to Curran holding an identical pillow with another ring.

My future husband remembered to close his mouth.

Roman was talking. I heard his voice, but I was looking at Curran and he was looking at me.

“Love is a complicated thing,” Roman said. “For some it's fleeting and fickle. People fall in love fast and then they fall out of it faster than they can blink. For others, it's a lifelong commitment. It can render you helpless or give you power. It can bring you bliss or misery. But true love, the one that endures through time, love that is pure joy, love that nothing in this world can shatter, that kind of love is rare. The two people standing before me today have it. They fought for it, they endured for it, and they earned it. Tonight we are privileged to celebrate their love with them.”

Curran was grinning. I grinned back.

“Repeat after me,” Roman said. “I, Curran Lennart . . .”

“I, Curran Lennart,” Curran said, “take you, Kate Daniels, to be my friend, my lover, the mother of my children, and my wife. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in failure and in triumph. I promise to love no other, to cherish and respect you, to care for you and protect you, and stay with you, for all eternity.”

I held out my hand and he slipped a ring on my finger.

“Your turn,” Roman told me. “I, Kate Daniels . . .”

“I, Kate Daniels, take you, Curran Lennart, to be my friend, my lover, the father of my children, and my husband. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in failure and in triumph. I promise to love no other, to cherish and respect you, to care for you and protect you, and stay with you, for all eternity.”

I took the ring from the pillow and slid it on his finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Roman said. “May your life be rich in blessings and poor in misfortunes. May you see your children's children grow up and make you proud. May your fights be short, your laughter loud, and your passion hot. May you live long and die happy. You may now kiss each other.”

Curran reached for me. I kissed him and the world faded.

We broke apart, turned, and I saw my father standing behind the tables, wrapped in his cloak. He smiled at me and vanished.

Roman waved his arm and a murder of crows shot out of the forest, flew above our heads and up into the sky.

“I don't do doves,” Roman said.

Then there was cake and toasts and gifts. We jumped over the Ivan Kupala bonfire. The party got loud, then louder. People laughed. Wine flowed. We danced, and then everyone danced. The Pack danced, the People applauded.

Curran wrapped his hands around me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Come with me. I have to tell you something.”

I followed him behind the tent. “What is it?”

He picked me up and took off into the woods. I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. “What are you doing?”

“I'm kidnapping my wife.”

We shot through the woods. “Do you even know where you're going?”

“Yes.”

He turned and stopped. We were under a massive tree. To the right the narrow brook gurgled its way through the forest. A blanket waited under the tree next to a cooler.

“You planned this.”

“Yes, I did.” He knelt on the blanket, still holding me. “You look . . . You look.”

I cracked up.

“And whatever the hell that scent is from those flowers is driving me crazy.” He took my crown off and looked at me. “Nope. Not the flowers.”

I kissed him, tasting him, teasing his tongue, and he kissed me back, eager and tender. The kiss turned possessive, and when I came up for air, I wanted all my clothes off.

“I finally caught you,” he said. “You can't get away now. I love you, Kate Lennart.”

“I love you too, Curran Lennart,” I whispered, and kissed him, enjoying every delicious moment. “For all eternity.”

•   •   •

M
ARRIED LIFE WASN'T
much different than single life, I decided, reaching for the stove. It had been two weeks since our wedding. Things were almost back to normal. There were still breakfasts to be made and bacon to be cooked. Atlanta was slowly picking up the pieces.

The Pack had lost sixty-two shapeshifters. Nineteen were younger than twenty. The Jackal alpha became a widower. Desandra lost her beta. Clan Nimble's alpha pair mourned their oldest daughter. Both of Barabas's legs were broken when a magical bull knocked him off his feet and then trampled him. Christopher had a full-on nervous breakdown and almost leveled what remained of the Keep's wall before Doolittle managed to convince him that Barabas wouldn't die. The wall was now being rebuilt.

Two knights of the Order and four mercs didn't come back from the battlefield. My father's chariot had been stripped and dismantled. The golden panels turned out to be real gold, which was completely unsurprising, knowing my father. The surviving mercs claimed it as spoils of war, and the Guild had made a fortune off it. We'd have no shortage of volunteers for the next battle.

A quarter of the Casino's vampires were destroyed. Oddly, Ghastek didn't seem concerned about it. He had this strange smile on his face when
I talked to him about it. After I was done, he'd leaned toward me and said, “He fled.” I had a feeling that was all he cared about. Just when I thought I had Ghastek all figured out, he threw me a curveball. But he was right. No matter what we did or said, one inescapable fact remained. We had beaten my father. We won the battle. We didn't win the war. The war was still coming. But we had beaten him this time. He lost.

I opened the oven. The smell of cooked bacon hit me. Mayday. I charged across the kitchen into the bathroom and threw up.

Oh no.

I cradled my stomach, reaching with my magic, gently, softly, and felt a tiny spark.

“Kate?” Curran said outside the door. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah. I'll be a minute.”

I washed my mouth, splashed cold water on my face, and opened the door.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I'm pregnant,” I said.