Death Magic (59 page)

Read Death Magic Online

Authors: Eileen Wilks

The giant one had wrapped most of its length around the smallest one like an enormous boa constrictor. Neither made any sound, not a vocalization, anyway, but there was a dull grating of stone against stone. And while the giant one squeezed the smallest, the third elemental took the giant’s tail—or its far end, anyway—in its jaws and chomped.
Stone crunched.
“Oh, dear,” Deborah whispered.
Earth elementals move slowly. That’s what Lily had been told. And the giant one had seemed to be especially slow. Managing that much bulk wouldn’t be easy, especially if you didn’t practice having a physical form very often. But it turned out that elementals could move fast—when they really, really wanted to.
The coils wrapped around the smallest one loosened and the head—if that was a head—whipped around and around, unwrapping itself enough to lunge at the third elemental like a striking snake. Its jaws opened. And kept opening.
Yeah, that was definitely the head. Eyeless and blind, and not that much like an earthworm after all. Not when most of that head became a gaping, tooth-lined maw. Rows of teeth, like a shark’s—not huge teeth, not for the size of that mouth, but there were a lot of them. It caught the other elemental’s head in its jaws . . . and crunched.
The captive elemental shook. Its body began to crack, like rock struck by a hammer. Cracks, fissures, opened up in it—then all at once it exploded into dust, dust that hung in the air in a huge, dirty cloud.
Twenty or thirty tiny figures dressed all in brown raced out of the dusty cloud, little legs pumping. Brownies could move amazingly fast. “Lily, Lily!” yelled the one in the lead. “Rule’s hurt! Cullen’s hurt! Everyone’s in trouble! Do you have the nasty thing?”
“I—yes!” she called back. “But—”
“You have to break it!” Harry screamed. “Make it not-be! You have to do it now!”
“I can’t—it takes mage fire to—”
“No!” He was still yelling at the top of his little lungs even as he came to a stop in front of her. “Give it to
it!
Hurry!”
Do what?
“To the Great It!” He pointed at the enormous elemental, which seemed to be considering renewing its attack on the other one. But that one was beginning to subside. To sink back into the earth. Slowly, but it was on its way out of here.
“Are you nuts? You want me to feed an enraged giant elemental a colossal amount of death magic?”
He rolled his eyes. “Stupid! Earth doesn’t cleanse as quick as fire, but it cleanses. Hurry!”
Deborah spoke in her husky, damaged voice. “It’s too angry. I can
feel
how it rages . . . it will kill anything, anyone, that comes near.”
Lily had promised Rule she wouldn’t die. But if the only way to save Rule was to break a promise—
“Never mind. You’re too big and slow, anyway.”
“I—hey!” she cried.
The chain she’d been gripping dangled loose. The amulet wasn’t on it anymore.
And a whole troop of brownies were running away—and they were amazingly fast. Running straight toward a giant, enraged earth elemental.
“Lily?” Deborah said. “Who were we just talking to?”
Lily turned her head, incredulous. “You didn’t see them?”
“See who? I heard someone, but I didn’t see a thing.”
“Brownies,” Lily said numbly as she turned back to watch the timid little brownies charge a creature as long as a football field. “A whole troop of brownies.”
They pelted straight for it. It noticed them—apparently it didn’t need eyes all that much—and swung its head around, opening those jaws once more, lowering its head to the ground. They split into two streams, one group veering to each side of that enormous head—and scrambled up onto it.
The head reared up. And up. They clung to it—its surface wasn’t smooth, after all, being full of stones and sticks and the occasional body part—and they were little and light. They clambered around on its head, then formed a chain, a brownie ladder. The ones at the top of the beast’s head somehow anchored themselves so others could dangle, hands gripping hands or feet, some upside down, some rightside up, all assembling themselves so quickly it was like magic.
Maybe it
was
magic—of a different sort. One that called for skill, not power.
One brownie climbed down that living ladder . . . which dangled right over the great elemental’s mouth.
That mouth opened wide and wider, a horrible, gaping maw. The elemental flung its head once as if it was nodding emphatically—and the chain of brownies swept out, then in. Right into its mouth. Which closed—but brownies spurted out even as it did. With delicious, desperate speed they shot out, slipped out like watermelon seeds, and scampered down stony, segmented sides. Down and down and . . .
The elemental stopped moving.
“Oh,” Deborah murmured. “Ohh . . . that tasted nasty, but it feels so full now. Content.”
Escape artists
, Lily thought. That’s what Rule had called them. Brownies valued nothing so much as a great escape—and oh, what an escape that had been!
Slowly the elemental began to subside. The stony mass lost its shape gradually, even gracefully, clods of dirt, rocks, and sticks breaking loose to fall to the ground as it sank itself back into the earth.
It was gone.
Lily looked toward the east end of what used to be the National Mall. There were a few patches of grass left, but no people. They’d fled or been killed.
Except at the far end. Where the fighting had stopped.
She shivered. He was alive, she
knew
he was alive, but how badly hurt? How many others were dead? She glanced at Deborah, at Scott so still on the ground. “Take care of him,” she pleaded. And set off at a run yet again.
FORTY
 
 
RULE
lay flat on the ground, his eyes closed. He felt her coming. At last. At last.
Cullen was loosening the tourniquet he’d tied high on Rule’s left leg. “Bleeding’s stopped,” he announced with satisfaction. “Or almost. It’s a godawful mess, but you aren’t bleeding anymore.”
Good. He’d lost so much blood he couldn’t sit up. Best if he held on to what was left.
“I wish I knew what was happening inside . . . but if the artery’s stopped bleeding, you’ll be healing up whatever was causing the internal bleeding pretty quick now, if you haven’t already.”
“Don’t . . . mention the ... internal bleeding to her.” Gods, but talking hurt.
Cullen snorted. “She’ll cripple me good if I lie. But if it doesn’t come up . . .”
Rule nodded slightly. That was good enough.
I’ll live if you will
, she’d said. He’d done his best, but for a while it had seemed he’d default on his end of the bargain.
She was nearly here . . .
And then she was. “Rule.” She took his hand. Warmth and ease spread through him in a sigh of contentment. “You’re a mess.” Her laugh was shaky. “A really bloody mess. Can you see at all?”
“One eye is just swollen shut. The other . . .” He stopped to gather enough energy to finish. “That one will have to regrow.”
“I guess you didn’t see the brownies, then.”
Brownies? Not since Harry’s troop stood on the edges of the crowd, letting themselves be seen for once, yelling at everyone to “run this way!” Brownies were good at giving warnings, after all. And they’d helped, directing people where to go...
“They’re heroes. The most incredible heroes. I’ll tell you about it in a minute.” The sound of Lily’s voice suggested she’d turned her head. “His leg?”
Cullen answered. “Broken. The femoral artery got ripped open, but the bleeding’s stopped.”
He heard her swallow.
Cullen’s voice went soft, as it so rarely did. “He’ll be okay, Lily. Not able to do much, not for a while, even with his super-duper speedy healing. But he’ll be okay.”
That was good to know.
The sirens he’d been hearing were close now. Good. They’d need a lot of ambulances. So many injured . . .
“And the others?” Lily asked, her voice low and raw. “I see some of them, but . . . Karonski. Did anyone ever find him?”
“He’s alive. Got knocked out, but Mike found him and brought him out.”
“And Chris?”
Silence.
So many dead . . .
“They converged on us,” Cullen said after a moment. “About the time that giant elemental Fagin had been keeping as a pet rose up, all of the demon wolves came after Rule. The rest of us were just obstacles. There’d be more dead if they’d cared about killing us, but they didn’t. Everyone’s hurt, but not as many lupi died as might have. All they wanted was to get to Rule.”
“I thought—they seemed to be after you, Cullen. First one wolf, then the demon Lily, then another wolf.”
“Oh.” Rule could hear the shrug in his friend’s voice. “A demon will usually go after a sorcerer if it can. They never know what one of us might be capable of, so they like to take us out quick.”
Funny that Cullen was just
now
mentioning this.
“Something changed,” Cullen went on. “They seemed to be acting on their own at first. When they came for Rule, they weren’t. They were under someone’s control.”
“Chittenden,” Lily said. “He sent them. He must . . . I think at first he stuck to the original plan, turning the demon-ridden dopplegängers loose. The more people they killed, the better. Lupi would be blamed. It sounds like he changed his tactics when he realized he wouldn’t be getting an on-site delivery of victims to feed to the elementals. I don’t know what he’d planned to do with the elementals, or how he planned to sacrifice twenty-two people right out in public. Maybe he thought everyone who saw him slitting throats would end up dead, so it didn’t matter.”
“Yeah, that fits,” Cullen said. “By then he’d seen Rule, though, so he sent the dopplegängers after him. It must have seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. Is Chittenden dead?”
“I knocked him out. I wanted to . . . but I didn’t. He’ll live to stand trial.”
“That’s something, I guess.” Cullen was silent a moment. “You want to tell me what happened with that enormous elemental? I saw the brownies scaling it like it was a climbing wall, but I don’t know what they did.”
She told them. Rule felt a smile stretch across his face. It hurt, but so did everything else.
Someone—Mike, it sounded like—called Cullen to come help with setting a bone. Cullen told Lily to “call me if he starts bleeding again, but he won’t”—and moved away.
The wail of one of the sirens peaked, then shut off. Some kind of help was here. Rule needed to speak before they lost this brief privacy. “Lily.”
She bent closer. Close enough that he could breathe her in, the sweet, comforting scent of her ... and her tears. She’d worked so hard to keep those tears from her voice, but she’d been crying from the moment she settled down beside him. He must look bloody awful. “You did the right thing. If you’d obeyed . . .” Obedience was not something his
nadia
was inclined toward, no, and he was so glad and grateful for that. “If you’d heeded me when I tried to forbid you, we’d all be dead.”
“I did what I had to do, but I was just guessing. It was all such a guess.”
“A guess backed by great courage.” He made the effort and raised one hand to touch her hair. He didn’t touch her face, though he wanted to. But she didn’t want him to know about the tears, so he avoided discovering them. “I knew you had to go, to do what you could. I just couldn’t . . . you’re braver than I.”
His beautiful, brave
nadia
snorted. “Yeah, right. Why did you send Scott with me instead of coming yourself?”
“I couldn’t.” That moment rose up and choked him again—Lily racing off into God knew what, her very motion a lure to whatever wolfish instincts lived in the demon-ridden doubles of his people. “Scott isn’t fully healed yet. He couldn’t fight properly. Too many would have died if I left. I had to stay.”

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