My Wicked Enemy (9 page)

“Liar,” Durian said.

“Watch it!” Nikodemus shouted.

Kynan shifted. Full power. The building rumbled with it. His hand shot out and seized Durian by the back of the neck. Kynan went flying again, this time because of Durian. The two in the Beemer broke free. Through Carson, Nikodemus could still feel the magehelds, just barely, a faint echo. Not much, but enough to get prepared. The two outside pounded up the front stairs, busting open the door. Nikodemus got one of them before he made it inside. The second one made it halfway across the room before Durian cut him down. A nice, clean, efficient kill, worthy of an assassin. Poor mageheld fuck never had chance.

Nikodemus figured that staying in Carson’s head wasn’t going to break taboo any worse than he already had, not having asked her permission and all. If he didn’t, there were going to be more bodies in here in half a second. He pushed his magic through Carson again, hard enough to make her gasp, and then he jumped Kynan’s mind, working practically blind, since she was now at squirt-gun levels, magically speaking. His recent touch of the fiend helped him direct the attack blind. Kynan went down again, but he was still twitching. This wasn’t going to last long.

“Go, go, go!” He grabbed Carson and booked it for the car. Durian sped after them. Not even he was crazy enough to tackle Kynan right now. He caught up when Nikodemus had to slow to get Carson over the back fence. They sprinted for the street. On silent communication, Nikodemus split off for the driver’s side while Durian got Carson into the back.
Wham, wham.
The doors slammed shut. Inside, the scent of Carson’s blood filled the air and started a thrumming in Nikodemus’s body. A fresh, rich scent. Durian was probably no better off.

“Floor it,” Durian yelled.

In the rearview mirror, Nikodemus saw Kynan vault over the fence. Carson’s magic ricocheted like those fireworks that blossom outward and fade and just when you think the show’s over, more color rushes at you. “Durian! Get the bleeding stopped. Now.” At this rate, Kynan could call himself a cab and find them. He was afraid to use Carson to pull again—she was fading fast.

“I’ll take care of it, Warlord.” His voice sounded strained, and yeah, that made total sense what with Carson at high tide and bleeding, to boot. Carson yelped, and she and Durian disappeared from the rearview mirror.

The car leveled out, but Durian didn’t let her go. She got her arms up to push him away. As soon as she touched him, a growl rumbled from deep in his chest, but she could breathe now.

“Where is it?” Durian said between gritted teeth. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. His growled words answered the question of whether she’d been rescued: not really.

“I don’t know.” He wasn’t going to let her up, even though the car was moving steadily through traffic. She tried to hook him in the ribs with her elbow, but he leaned away at just the right moment. “He took it.”

“Who? Magellan?”

“No!”

“Durian,” Nikodemus barked from the front seat. “I can still smell blood. I don’t care what you have to do, get it under control!” The car took a corner too fast, and her body pressed against Durian’s outside thigh. The fiend pulled his shirt over his head and wadded it up against the side of her head.

“Ow.”

“Don’t move, witch,” he said. His pecs bulged. Like Nikodemus, he was ripped.

The pressure hurt her bruised head, and while she was distracted by the pain, he tried to get in her mind. Carson pushed back, and Durian grimaced.

“That’s better,” Nikodemus said from the front.

No. Way. Just no way. She wasn’t letting him in her head. Behind her forehead, a bubble of pressure released, and the effect, whatever it was, cut Durian off. She put herself behind the walls that had kept out Nikodemus and Kynan before and locked gazes with Durian. She whispered, “Stay out.”

The car slowed. Durian stared at her and relaxed his grip on the back seat. “Christ,” he muttered.

“Hell of a rush, isn’t it?” Nikodemus said from the front. “Just don’t overdo it back there. Keep her under wraps. That’s all you have to do.”

“Warlord.” Durian never took his eyes off her. His hand covered her mouth as he leaned over her, and Carson just wasn’t strong enough to stop him. She shoved at him, hands on his bare chest, but it didn’t help. His hair fell over her as his mouth hovered over her cheek, breath hot on her skin.

She yanked her head hard to the side, and his hand slipped off her mouth. “If you want to know something,” she said in a low, hard voice, “all you have to do is ask.”

Durian backed off. “Who did you let into the warlord’s house?”

“He said his name was Xia.”

“Rasmus’s fiend,” Durian said, glancing toward the front of the car.

“Shit,” Nikodemus said. He slammed on the brakes, and Carson and Durian ended up on the floor amid a blaring of horns. He fell hard on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. Adrenaline rushed through her. She brought up a knee, and she ought to have collided with his crotch instead of his kidneys, but his head jerked back, followed by his upper body.

Nikodemus had flung his arm back, fingers tangling in Durian’s hair. He pulled up hard. “Get the fuck off her, Durian.” Horns blared. “Carson. Up front.”

Durian howled in protest. Carson wriggled out from under him as Nikodemus pulled over on a tree-lined street of Victorian-era homes. Nikodemus had one foot jammed hard on the brake to keep the car from rolling down the steep incline. She slithered over the seat, heading for the front passenger side. “Watch your head, there. Not you, you dumbass.” He put a hand on her backside and pushed her the rest of the way over. She landed with her head over his lap. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She sat on the front seat, holding tight to her emotions, shaking as she struggled to fasten her seat belt. He released the emergency brake and looked over his shoulder to check for oncoming traffic.

“I guess.”

Durian growled, and if Carson hadn’t known the fiend was there, she’d have thought there was a grizzly bear in the car. “Let me out here,” he said.

“Kynan can wait,” Nikodemus said. “We need to get on Xia’s ass.”

Durian fell silent. “As you wish, Warlord.” The note of respect in his voice was absolutely genuine. “But I still need a few things before we go after Xia.”

Nikodemus nodded and punched the button that released the lock. “See you back at my place, Durian.” The fiend got out and bowed to Nikodemus before he closed the door. Nikodemus reengaged the locks. “He is fucking pissed at me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. He just doesn’t care for mages. Can’t say as I blame him. Much.” He touched her shoulder. “It won’t happen again.”

They drove back to his house with his arm on the back of her seat. Every now and then, he touched her nape or fiddled with her hair. Whenever he did, she felt like she had right before her first kiss, shivery and nervous and worried about what he meant by it. She had no idea what to do or even if she ought to do anything at all. He didn’t say anything even after he garaged the car or when they went into the house by a side entrance. Her head hurt, but this time it was because she’d hit it hard when Kynan threw her against the wall.

He closed the door behind them. He didn’t look angry or like he was planning how best to kill her. But then, how was she supposed to know what was going on behind his eyes? She wasn’t the one who could insert herself in someone else’s head and look around for something interesting. They were in the rear of the house. Near the kitchen. There were painted medallions here, too. She was convinced there were real bodies behind the faces and that if she turned her back on them, they’d come to life and leap on her. Her head ached where she’d been cut.

She followed him into the kitchen. Nikodemus wrapped his arms around her, and held her, and she let him because he made her feel safe. Relief hit once they were inside. She was safe now. Her legs wobbled a little. “Tell me, Carson. In your own words, if you don’t mind.”

“Xia told me you called to have him pick up the pizza instead of having it delivered. He said he knew you.” His body was warm, and she had to work hard at not pressing herself against his solid strength. He didn’t seem to mind having her close, though.

“I didn’t call anybody but the pizza place, Carson.” His voice was moderate, a trace of tension, but no anger. “I told them to deliver.”

“He said he was your friend.” She tipped back her head to see his expression. He didn’t look angry. But how many times had Magellan exploded with no warning? The thought made her heart leap. She took a step back, then another when all he did was tip his head.

“Didn’t you recognize him as mageheld?”

“Mage what?” She put her hands to her temples and rubbed. “No. No, I didn’t.”

“Mageheld. It’s what we call a fiend who’s controlled by a mage. Mageheld. Like Xia. He’s mageheld to Rasmus. The way Kynan is mageheld to Magellan.”

“He didn’t look any different to me.”

“It’s not how we look. It’s how we feel to each other. Chances are you did feel him, but you didn’t know what it was.” Nikodemus put a hand behind her arm and walked with her toward the fridge, where he poured her a glass of his headache remedy. “Those of us left free can’t feel the mageheld. But a mage can. The short hair’s a dead giveaway. Mages shave the fiends they enslave.”

“Oh.” She thought about all the short-haired men in Magellan’s house. Fiends. All of them enslaved. She took the cup and steeled herself for the taste. “Thank you.” She took a sip and shuddered.

“Shit does taste like swamp water.”

“Yeah.” She finished her swamp water, thinking about mages and fiends and what Xia’s short, short hair meant, and wondering what she would have been like if Magellan hadn’t taken her. Would she have her own private army of mageheld fiends? It was an unsettling thought. Nikodemus touched her cheek. Just a brush of his fingertip, but it sent shivers down to her toes. She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her reaction and found herself staring at the empty mug on the counter. Magellan lashed out unexpectedly all the time. She prepared for the same from Nikodemus.

“Xia’s been around a long time. And mageheld for years,” Nikodemus said. “For longer than you’ve been alive.”

“What about Kynan?” she asked. She pressed her fist to the countertop. Maybe if Magellan hadn’t raised her, she’d be after Nikodemus, too.

“Him, too.” Nikodemus stayed close to her, and it was distracting that her body was so aware of him. She missed the comfort of his arms and wanted him to hold her again, even though she felt like she was betraying him just for having the longing. “I don’t understand why mages hate fiends. Why do they—why do we do that to you?”

Nikodemus sighed. “A long time ago, fiends got out of control with humans. The world was different then. I’m not saying it never happens now, but we got our act together and put a stop to it when the mages started fighting back. Even after, though, when we were . . . more circumspect with our interactions, the mages just never stopped coming after us.”

Carson chewed on the inside of her mouth. He stared at her, and her stomach momentarily took flight at the thought that he wanted to kiss her. He was close enough to.

“There was blood on the floor when I came home.” He proceeded to give her a thorough once-over. He wiped her head with a damp cloth.

“Ouch.”

“Hurts?”

Carson saw stars. “Yes.”

“Sorry.” He inspected her neck and shoulders as far as he could without rearranging her clothes, touching intimately, but without intimate intent. He pushed up one sleeve of her sweater, then the other. She found herself staring at a bruised puncture in the crook of her elbow.

She looked at her arm. “He was showing me his knife. It hardly hurt. But then he went all strange.”

“Blood is exciting for us.” He waited, and Carson made sure she didn’t react. “The smell. The color. But especially the taste. That’s why I was yelling at Durian to keep you from bleeding. We were both getting cranked.”

“Oh.”

“In passion, Carson, whether it’s love or hate or just plain lust, the taste, smell, and color of human blood bring us closer to our elemental natures. Closer to whoever we’re with. In a good way or a bad way, depending on how you feel about fiends. Some of you like it.” His hand came away from her. The pads of his first and second fingers glistened with a smear of red. “And some of you don’t.” He walked to the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse his fingers. He wiped his hand on his jeans. “It was natural for him to want that. If it were me, I would have wanted to do the same.”

She allowed the words to sink in, tried to understand them separately and without emotion. Her stomach felt like a clenched fist as she looked at his fingers, now clean of her blood.

“It’s what fiends are, Carson. We’re a warrior species. Blood and the glory of battle make us alive. For us, living without that connection to blood and kin is worse than being dead.” He came back to her and stroked the bruise on her arm. With you, for a while, Xia probably felt like he was free.” His eyes were so beautiful, she thought. She could gaze into them forever. “A few thousand years ago, human sacrifice was common enough. It’s not now because the world changes. The magekind treat us as if nothing ever changed for them. To them, we’re evil. Monsters they either control or kill, lest they be killed themselves.”

“The magekind,” she said, stretching out the syllables. The air vibrated between them. “You mean my kind. People like me.”

“Yeah, Carson,” he said softly. “I do. Sorry. But that’s how it is. You and I are enemies.”

“Why? I’ve never done anything. Why do we have to hate each other?”

“You’re different, Carson.” He put a finger to the inside of her eyebrow, following the arch with the tip of his finger. Carson closed her eyes. A thread of otherness was in her head, vibrating just enough for her to know he was there. She opened her eyes and flashed back to her earlier sense of Nikodemus as not human. She felt that from him now. Stronger than ever. “You’re not like Magellan,” he said.

He was staying out of her head now. She studied him. If she’d had the ability to see inside his head, she would have looked. Gladly. “What’s Rasmus going to do once Xia gives him the talisman?”

“You know the ritual,” he said quietly. “You saw Magellan do it. At the very least, you read about it.”

“A sacrifice to release the spirit trapped inside. A murder.”

Carson was getting all too familiar with mages and their relationship with fiends. She forced herself to think this through, to compare what she knew of the ritual with what Nikodemus had told her about fiends and mages and what she had observed and reasoned out on her own. She looked Nikodemus in the eye. “I assume Rasmus’s strong enough to survive the aftereffects?”

He leaned against the counter, long legs crossed at the ankles. “Rasmus is strong enough, trust me on that one.”

“How bad will that be?” She had an idea about that, unfortunately.

“If Rasmus, or Magellan, for that matter, cracks the talisman it’s possible . . . likely, he’d have enough power to take a warlord without help. You’ll have to take my word about how bad that makes it for us.” He raked his fingers through his hair, and the light glinted off his earring. “Go clean up while we wait for Durian to get here. Upstairs. First door on the right.”