My Darkest Passion (25 page)

“One down.” She gave him a guilty look.

“Fuck the rules.” He laughed out loud. “Any chance you can get the ones on the bridge?”

But the mages directing the attack from above had recovered from the loss of their comrade, and the magehelds had regrouped and reformed their pursuit. He and Addison were too busy setting up wards and picking off the ones that got close for her to try going after mages that far away.

Harsh recognized Infante’s three magehelds among those closing in on them, including the African. Hard to miss that one, the way he resonated. Despite the adjustments, the magehelds’ assault lost some organization because not all the players were in place, not to mention it wasn’t all of them against him and Addison any more. Four newly-freed kin were on their side now.

Two of the freed kin engaged with the magehelds nearest to them. They weren’t as effective in the fight as they might have been if they’d been sworn to Addison, but they understood their continued freedom was at stake. They picked up on her fury, and it fueled them. Him, too.

Two more magehelds, neither in human form, got close enough to be an issue. They came at him. Not Addison. If they’d had any brains, they would have been working to take out the warlord. But they didn’t, and that was information he tucked away for later; that he was the target of this attack, not Addison.

He pulled more power, drew on it even though it was oiled with the taint of magekind. Both magehelds drew up short. He could feel them as if he were a mage. Magehelds were forbidden to harm the magekind. Not without specific and targeted permission from the mage who enslaved them. Jesus fuck, if he was registering as magekind, they could not touch him. Not without permission.

Unaware that he was safe for now, Addison leapt at the magehelds. Directly at them, holding enough power that the smell of burnt air followed her. His skin rippled in reaction to her magic. She brought them down, but three of the ones still sliding and tumbling through the underbrush diverted, changing trajectory so they’d get to him first. Permission to kill him appeared to have been quickly given.

Addison, on her back, pointed at the bridge. Her eyes glowed a silver-flecked blue.

Another mageheld charged Addison. Those damned mages must have realized she was more dangerous than he was. Take her down, and it would be easier to get to him. He stepped in front of her, and she objected at the top of her lungs. As if he would allow them to harm her. The life of everyone one of the free kin here depended on the warlord staying alive.

“Get the fuck out of my way!”

Talons ripped into his arm and back, and he was in a fight for his life and hers.

27

A
ddison froze when she saw the creature that launched itself at Harsh. The thing wasn’t remotely human; an enormous, hunchbacked beast with four legs and long, sharp, black teeth and talons. One of its front legs slashed at Harsh, a vicious swipe intended to kill. Harsh curved his body away with almost nothing to spare.

If she didn’t do something, he was going to die and it would be her fault. The mageheld demon twisted in the air and its lower body crashed sideways into Harsh, bringing them both to the ground. The thing landed awkwardly but it was fast. Within seconds, it gathered for another attack. A sound like something from the prehistoric age rasped from its gaping jaws.

The creature was big and nasty and going for Harsh’s heart. Light flashed above the two, the result of a bizarre mix of demon-sourced magic and magekind. Whatever Harsh was doing right now, she was all for it. The demon fell back, snarling. Smoke curled from a charred streak on its flank. All round her, the fighting intensified. Mageheld demons screamed as the four newly freed kin engaged them. Others fought for position on the slope. Yet another monster sped toward them.

…
Do something
…

Her fear didn’t vanish, she just pushed through it. Kynan had taught her how to focus, hours and hours spent until she’d wanted to scream. Her tedious, painstaking work paid off. She concentrated on the magic she’d once sworn she’d never use, and it was there, a vast well. She pulled magic through her until her skin crackled with energy. The center of that pool pulsed like a living thing, and she drew on that, too.

Power arced through her and she used it, cast it in the shape of her will. There was almost no time between her decision and the magical consequence, yet she felt time slow. She needed to keep the other magehelds away from Harsh: the vegetation between them danced with orange fire. Farther away, a tree exploded into flames.

In the flow of time around her, she drew on everything Kynan had taught her about how to interfere with another demon’s magic. It wasn’t easy, and she hadn’t been very good at it for a frustratingly long time. But he’d made her practice on him until she was ready to do murder, and now, now, at last, she understood why he’d been such a goddamned asshole about it.

Without being able to sense the mageheld’s magic, she had to rely on visuals alone. Under these conditions and at this distance, she didn’t trust her accuracy. Range was important; Kynan had drummed that into her. Mental clarity was just as crucial. She needed to be close, really close, for this to work. Screw this up, and she and Harsh would die an agonizing, permanent, and endlessly living death.

If she was going to lose to Infante, then she was going out with nothing left in reserve. Air screamed into her lungs and rushed out, so hot steam condensed in the air. She leaned in and grabbed the mageheld around its massive neck and drew a bead on its head the way Kynan had made her practice. He hadn’t been very forgiving, but in real life, with everything on the line, she had no margin for error.

The demon threw her off before she had a decent grip, and her attempt to cut it off from its magic spluttered out. It torqued its body and slashed at her instead of Harsh, which was something. Better than him being dead or fatally injured. It missed her because she’d been thrown several feet away, but not so far that she didn’t breathe in acid-tainted breath. As she rolled to her feet, it swiped at her; she heard the swish of those obsidian-dark talons. Harsh was up now, and the demon whirled on him, an all-out attack. They collided hard, and she smelled blood.

Her link with Harsh cut out.

She leapt the distance between her and Harsh, aware that even if she managed to kill the demon, one or all of the others would likely have made it through the fire to join this one. She grabbed the monster again, focused and slashed. Its scream deafened her, but the next instant, it was in human form and inert. Harsh, bleeding from a gash in his shoulder, stepped in and broke its neck.

A mageheld made it through the fire she’d started, badly burned, in agony, but compelled to attack. It hit Harsh’s back with a thud. He let out a soft sound and went down.

Another made it through. She no longer thought there was any hope of getting out of this alive, but dead was better than letting Infante or some other mage get their hands on Harsh. She went after the two magehelds and downed them. Meanwhile, one of the mages was on the concrete barrier high above them staring down from the torn and twisted metal of the suicide barrier. He was drawing a lot of power.

Fucking mages.

Whoever it was, he was way outside the range Kynan had told her was safe. To hell with the rules, and fuck the hell out of Kynan for being right about the best tactics, too. Fuck safe, too.

She released all the power she held and directed it at the mage on the barrier, using her reaction to his magic as a method of psychic echolocation. Her pulse of energy rocketed toward the bridge, drawing energy from the boundaries and carving a tunnel through the surrounding ether. She sent a second pulse behind the first because if the first one wasn’t enough, maybe the second one would be.

All she could do was wait. It felt like forever, even though it wasn’t. There wasn’t any indication that she was on target, but just when she thought she’d failed, the mage jerked back. Half a second too late, she braced for the backwash of the strike, and when it hit, it hit hard enough to rock her back. Off balance, she didn’t take her eyes off the bridge.

Above, the mage fell backward onto the traffic side of the bridge. Then,
click
, five more demons joined the psychic connection between her and the others. She drew power through them and it worked exactly the way Kynan said. But it wasn’t going to be enough. She hadn’t stopped all the magehelds and not the ones attacking Harsh. Whether she could see him or not, that last mage had to die, too.

She pushed away everything but the need to keep Harsh alive. The part of her that was not human consumed what was human about her, and she let it happen because she could now pinpoint where the mage was. She drew hard on every bit of power she could take on through the others. Kynan was right; she didn’t need to see the mage to pinpoint where he was. She killed him the same way she had the other two. Nothing held back. No regrets, either.

This time she was prepared for the backwash and, yeah, it hurt, but when it was over, power washed through her, scoured her. Purified her. She heard brakes and horns honking, and seven more free kin flashed into existence. An eerie stillness descended, with only the sound of traffic rushing by on the bridge and the street below, and what remained of the fire burning on the slope.

The mageheld trying to kill Harsh returned to human form. The rest stopped where they were. More than one hit the ground and others took off running. She let them go. Whatever magic had concealed the chaos of the attack stopped, too. One of the larger magehelds—former magehelds—lifted a hand and that sense of the world folding around them returned. He’d blocked the signs of their battle from normal, vanilla humans.

Harsh groaned and rolled onto his knees, but he didn’t hook back into their link. At his side, she touched his shoulder and got no reaction. No response to an attempt to connect with him. He felt like a mage and she didn’t have any idea how or why. “Harsh?”

He was too quiet. Way too quiet. The mageheld who’d gone after Harsh staggered to his feet, and she went on alert, ready to kill whoever needed it next. All he did, though, was sway on his feet, blinking rapidly. Not mageheld any longer.

Harsh dropped from his hands and knees to his flank, still dark to her, still setting off her reaction to him as if he were a mage even though underneath he was Harsh. She didn’t know how to fix him. The blood she smelled and that darkened his upper body was mostly his and that was bone glistening in the spreading dark. His eyes opened but didn’t focus. She watched, horrified and helpless, as his physical body lost some of its cohesion.

“No!” She grabbed his head in her hands and forced her way into his mind. Kynan had taught her how to do that, too. Fuck more of the rules. Once she was there, there was no denying that the reverberation of magekind she’d been getting from him was real. She blocked Harsh from the others, and she didn’t think she was mistaken that the demons who hadn’t run away immediately settled down.

Still holding him, still connected, she said, “You are not going to die on me. I didn’t kill three mages just to lose you. So you come back to me. Now.”

He blinked, but otherwise didn’t move. His next breath rattled in his chest. There was so much blood. Too much. He was going to die because she hadn’t moved quickly enough, hadn’t reacted fast enough, she hadn’t risked enough until too late. She hadn’t been tough enough, and now Harsh was lying here in agony and bleeding out because she wasn’t as tough and ruthless as Kynan had told her she needed to be.

Lesson learned too goddamned late.

“Did you hear me? You are not allowed to die.”

Kynan, she was realizing, had been thorough in his education of her. Not so much in specific things but about the nature of her magic. She knew, for example, how to draw Harsh’s pain away from him and into her, and she did it. One of the former magehelds approached. She recognized him as the biggest of Infante’s three magehelds. Well, howdy. If he was free, then Infante was dead. Later, she’d have a private party over that. Later.

The former mageheld nodded at her. Now that he wasn’t enslaved, she could tell he was as powerful as she’d guessed from his physical appearance.

He touched three fingers to his bowed forehead. “Thank you,” he said in his accented voice.

Well fuck that, too. The hell with whatever arcane shit she was supposed to know that she didn’t. Besides, he didn’t look pissed off at her failure to respond in kind. “I don’t want him to die.”

“He will heal faster if he is sworn.” He crouched beside her. “You do not have much time. There will be more mages coming. That is certain.”

Addison glanced at Harsh. His eyes were open, and he was watching her, and that was a mercy to her because it meant he was fighting to stay alive. Probably not a mercy to him, though, because his pain must be agonizing. She held his gaze, well aware she was in his head without permission or consent. “I’m not doing anything else you don’t agree to.”

Harsh’s mouth worked. He took a long, wet breath. “You are not safe here.”

She knew to her marrow she would do anything to save him even if it meant breaking Harsh’s precious rules. “You heard him.”

He nodded.

“If you make me watch you die I will never, ever be free of the burden of failing you.“ She kept her hands on his head and their not-entirely-consensual connection going. “Harsh, please. Live because I need you alive. Live and I won’t let anything happen to you. Live, and I will get you to Nikodemus and release you from your oath. Everything will be back to the way it was. I swear it.”

His breathing was labored, hollow-sounding.

Nikodemus and Kynan had made sure she knew how this worked. “You have to say yes.”

His eyelids fluttered. “Agreed.”

She did it. She did, even though she was afraid and uncertain. She did it even though this was a desperate measure and that under any other circumstance Harsh would have refused this choice. Too bad. She took her first oath and wished the circumstances were anything but this. Become her sworn vassal or die. Not much of a choice, was it?