Shadow City (12 page)

Giselle flinched as if his words were physical blows. Alexander felt her gather herself, pulling her magic inward until only threads of it crawled like spider legs over her exposed flesh. It was disturbing to watch. She stood and straightened regally. “I am nothing like you,” she told him. “I do what I do in order to serve my covenstead and protect my people. Whatever it takes, I will do it. For them, not me. But I never,
ever,
throw the innocent into the fire. Even if Cora wasn’t your own flesh and blood, she was still a child. She couldn’t defend herself. That was your job. You betrayed her in the worst possible way. And trust me, you
will
pay.”

He snorted. “Do your best.”

She bared her teeth in a smile of pure malice. “Oh, no. Not me. Your daughter is rising—a Fury. She will deal with you as only her kind can.”

He drew back in consternation, then collected himself. He sneered, his lip curling. “I don’t believe you.”

Her smile widened. “You will.” With that, she walked out.

Alexander and Oz followed, with Beyul, the angels, and Lise bringing up the rear. Lise shoved the door closed, and the wards flashed as they reactivated.

Giselle turned to the angels. “I want you two guarding Alton. If he makes the slightest move to escape, call me. You have your phones on you?”

Both nodded. While most cell service all over the world was down, witch phones continued to work, even deep inside a mountain. Magic had its virtues.

“Lise, come with me,” Giselle said.

“Giving the Erinye her father won’t satisfy her,” Xaphan said quietly before Giselle could walk away. “Her fury and hunger will be insatiable.”

The witch looked at him. “I know. But it’s a start. If any of you have a bright idea, I’m all ears.”

Alexander ran his fingers through his hair, hardly believing what he was about to say. “I know a mage. He is brilliant and powerful. It might be that he could offer some help.”

Giselle eyed him narrowly. “What sort of price will he expect?”

“I do not know. We are not friends. He may not even be willing to come.” But Holt would, Alexander knew. If only to see the birth of an Erinye. Holt would not be able to pass that up.

Giselle laughed, a brittle sound. “That’s not exactly the most encouraging advertisement to sell me on him. Mages are trouble. One of them equals a whole covenstead of witches.”

“Can we trust him?” Oz asked.

Alexander glanced at the Sunspear in surprise. He would have expected Oz to ferociously oppose the idea of allowing a strange mage into Horngate. “Holt—” He paused, searching for words. He and the mage had a long history and it was safe to say that mostly they wanted to kill one another. “Holt is arrogant, ruthless, and ambitious, like most of his kind. But he owes Max a favor.”

Now it was Giselle’s turn to look surprised. “He knows Max?”

Alexander nodded. He had not told Giselle or anyone all that had happened when he and Max had traveled to California to rescue her family. When Valery had delivered the amulet to Alexander, Holt—Valery’s ex-husband—had attacked them. Alexander and Max had held him prisoner while Valery escaped. Max had befriended him, and when the Guardians let loose their magic on the world, she had rescued him from an enchantment. So he owed her.

“You’ve been keeping secrets,” Giselle murmured speculatively, her brows rising as she clearly wondered what else he was hiding.

“I am not the only one.” His chin jutted. He would not apologize.

After a moment, she nodded. “Call him. See if he will come.”

Alexander watched her walk away, still stunned that he had volunteered to call Holt. He hated the bastard. But if anyone could help, it was the mage. Alexander rubbed a hand over his mouth and swore softly.

“What’s wrong?” Oz asked.

“Holt may come help because of what he owes Max, but he will most certainly make
me
pay for it,” Alexander said.

“Sounds like a mage after my own heart.”

“Just wait until you meet him. You will want to strangle him before he says ten words.”

“If he can keep this place from being destroyed, I’ll kiss his ass.”

Alexander grinned. “I will be sure to tell him so. He does like a good ass kissing.”

The Shadowblades were housed in the lower regions of the Keep. The Sunspears’ quarters were higher, where they could have windows to let the sunshine pour in. Blades lived deep underground, where darkness ruled.

At the bottom of a steep stairway, Alexander turned down the hall and keyed the wards of his room. He glanced down to the end of the corridor at the door leading into Max’s apartment. His knuckles whitened on the handle of his door as a storm of emotions swept over him. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the door, waiting for it to pass. How was it possible to miss anyone so much? The hurt was almost unbearable. When she got home, he was going to kill her for putting him through this.

Beyul nosed him curiously. Alexander started. Unworldly intelligence shone in the depths of the Grim’s green eyes.

“Wait until you meet her,” he told the black beast. “Then you will understand.”

Beyul tipped his head as if asking a question.
Understand what?

Alexander winced. He was most certainly going crazy, explaining himself to the Grim. “She is—”

No words came. She was so many things, and he felt like he was bleeding to death without her. It did not even seem possible. He had known her for less than two months. Hell, who was he fooling? He had been completely hypnotized by her within minutes of meeting her. She was different from any other Shadowblade—no, any other
woman
—he had ever met. Finding her was like finding a piece of himself he had not known was missing. And now she was gone. She might not be coming back.

He drew a harsh breath.
No
. He refused to even consider the possibility. She was strong and stubborn and very skilled. She would return. But whether or not she would be coming back to him, that he did not know.

He straightened, his body aching with pain that was too great for him to contain. Beyul whined at him. Alexander grimaced and scratched the Grim’s ears before wondering if the beast would snap his hand off for taking liberties. But Beyul leaned into his touch, his tail wagging twice.

“She agreed that we had something,” he said. “I will not let her forget it. Whatever it takes.”

He went inside, and Beyul immediately sprawled across his bed.

“Do not get used to it. I have no intention of sharing. Not with you, anyway,” he told the Grim, who only pawed at the bed and rolled onto his back.

Alexander went to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Inside was a polished cherry-wood box. He lifted the lid and took out a folded piece of paper smudged with dried blood and dirt. He flattened it, reading the number written on it in bold black letters.

Holt had given Max the number after she had rescued him from certain death. He had been trapped inside a landscape of deadly magic. Holt had been wounded, and if Max and Alexander had not carried him out, he would have been eaten by a bunch of giant carnivorous plants. Enchanted forests were nothing but dangerous, and these plants had been very hungry. When he had given her the number, Holt had told her that if she ever needed anything, she should call him. He would not be pleased that it was Alexander on the other end of the line.

Alexander tapped his fingers on the top of the dresser, delaying the inevitable. Whatever he had told Giselle, the truth was, Holt would not come because of Max. Only she was going to be able to collect on what he owed her. But there was another way to get the mage here. Alexander sighed and punched a number in his speed dial.

It rang twice before Valery picked up, her voice rich and sensual. “Alexander. Is everything all right?”

As always, she did not waste time but cut right to the heart of things. He did the same. “No. We are in trouble, and we need Holt.”

Silence. Then, “It must be really bad if you want him, of all people.”

“It is. He will not come without something to make it worthwhile. There is only one thing he wants.”

Another silence. “You know what you’re asking?”

“I will make him promise to give you a head start when everything is done. All you have to do is be here while he is. He will not refuse the chance to be face-to-face with you.”

“Dammit, Alexander!”

She said nothing more. Alexander waited. He considered her a sister. Both of them were Caramaras—gypsy folk who had fled from Egypt ages ago. He would do anything for her and she for him. But this was more than he had ever asked. She and Holt had been married, but a couple of years ago, she had left him and taken with her something he desperately wanted back. He had been chasing her ever since. Now Alexander was asking her to let herself be caught, if only for a while.

“I would not ask if—”

“I know. If there was any other way, you would try it. All right. I’ll come.”

“How long will it take? We have little time.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to ride the smoke. It won’t take long. I’ll home in on you.”

“Should I go out beyond the shield ward?”

“Your shields won’t stop me. See you soon.”

She hung up. Alexander let out a slow breath. Now for Holt.

To his surprise, the mage picked up almost instantly. “This must be big if
you
are calling me,” came the low baritone voice.

“I need your help.” The words cut at Alexander’s throat like broken glass.

“Do you? And why would I help you?”

“Because Valery has agreed to be here while you are. But you cannot try to take her by force, and you have to give her a full day’s head start when it is over.”

Holt laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “That’s not much of an offer.”

“You have not been able to corner her in the same room with you for two years. If you want to talk to her, this is your chance.”

“All right. Suppose I do come. Why do you want me?”

“We have an Erinye rising. She will be born very soon, and we would like to keep her from wiping out the covenstead when she does.”

Holt gave a low whistle. Then his surprise turned to anger. “You fucking ass. You called Valery into that mess? She could be killed.”

“Then you had better get here quick. She is on her way.”

Alexander snapped his phone shut, his blood pounding in his chest. Holt was right; he should not have asked Valery to come. But there was no other way if Horngate was going to have a chance of survival. If the angels were right about what a newborn Fury could do, the coven was not strong enough to defend itself. He was Shadowblade Prime now, and that meant giving everything he had to protecting Horngate. Even if one of the things he gave was his sister.

If it came to it, she could escape on the smoke, he told himself as he headed for the door. But it was a cold comfort. If the shit hit the fan, there would be no time for her to catch the smoke. Besides, Valery would not abandon the fight if she thought she could help. Which meant that Holt damned well better have a few aces up his sleeve.

He yanked open the door, waiting as Beyul launched himself off the bed. He had better hurry. He wanted to be there when Giselle met Holt. It would be nothing if not interesting. Max was going to be pissed that she’d missed the fireworks.

M
AX CARRIED
S
COOTER OVER HER SHOULDER
, leaving one arm free to hold her sword. The other, which he had dropped when he fainted, she held hilt down as she balanced his body.

There were no gates within sight. Inside the iron fence was a busy pulse of people—for lack of a better word. The shadows were thicker here, and torches burned everywhere. Hence the name of Torchmarch, she guessed. They put off a thick, greasy smoke that burned in her lungs.

Only a few people passed by on the boulevard, and most of them gave her a wide berth. She kept up a quick pace. She didn’t want to give anybody time to get too nosy about her or Scooter. Especially Scooter.

She’d gone ten miles when she finally found a gate into the Torchmarch. It was tall and wide enough to drive two semi trucks through. An arch spanned the width of the road, decorated with ornate scrolling metalwork depicting haunted faces full of suffering and fear hiding in the branches of twisting trees and crawling vines. On either end were enormous torches shooting flames a good fifty feet in the air.

The gates were wide open and guarded by two hulking gargoyles. They looked roughly made, with hooked horns and massive paws. Their eyes bugged, and their noses covered half of their broad, squat faces. Their arms were longer than their powerful legs, and their backs bowed to accommodate the mismatched height. They had stubby wings that couldn’t possibly have lifted a dead cat, much less the massive creatures they were attached to.

As Max turned to enter, they snorted loudly at her. One of them thudded forward, the ground shaking beneath its heavy stone steps. One swipe of a paw would crush her. Max stopped, waiting to see what it would do. Her fingers tightened on the hilt of the sword. It wasn’t going to do much good. Gargoyles were made of animated rock. Nothing cut through them short of a jackhammer.