Smoke and Mirrors (23 page)

She wasn’t physically injured, but some of Viper’s pain leaked through the familiar bond, twisting her already frightened features with agony. Until the link was severed, as long as Viper was hurt, he would be offloading some of that pain on her to improve his chances at survival.

That would have to be remedied.

He tilted his head to one side, examining the fallen wyvern. Drawing on the nearby ley line, his forked tongue flickered out as he tasted the bitter, burnt-chalk remnants of the binding spell still drifting up from the circle.

Standard, simple, and brutally efficient. It had probably hurt like hell if Kimberly had fought it for any length of time.

Though he was tempted to rip the spell to shreds, he had to tread with delicacy lest he hurt her in the process of destroying the link. If Viper died without her energy to draw upon, so be it. Within hours, the elements summoned by the circle would solidify into a solid, permanent binding that could only be removed by Viper’s consent. Once that happened, he wouldn’t just be able to use her power. He’d know her thoughts, be able to summon her to his side at any time without her consent, and be able to force her to cast spells on his behalf. The longer Cormac waited, the stronger their bond would grow.

As it was, this was going to hurt both of them a great deal since he would have to rip portions of their power from them. It was considered a black enchant. Taboo, dark magic that was normally forbidden. Long before the laws had been laid regarding use of such magic, he had mastered the art. He hadn’t lied when he had told her that Viper was the only Other who had successfully bound a mage as a familiar. The theory behind the spell was simple. Had he desired it, he could have done it himself.

The type of filth it left on one’s psyche was a permanent stain, a constant craving for power above and beyond that which they were already blessed with.

He would use the same method some planar beings did to banish the binding. It took a different form of energy—the same type Kimberly used to cast her illusions. She may have known she was no true mage, but he was sure she did not understand the source of her power. She couldn’t cast elemental magic because she had no command over the elements. Her power was rooted in manipulating the life energy and minds of others.

Sorcery. Not magecraft.

He would have to use his own brand of sorcery to burn out the bindings, using their own energy against them.

Cormac didn’t relish causing her any more pain than she had already suffered, but it was necessary if he was going to free her from the constraints of the bond. He inched forward, extending a clawed paw to rest in the center of the circle. Hints of power pulsed upward, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He focused on the tether that stretched between the two, using the circle as his focus.

One by one, he unwound and then snapped the elemental threads that bound them together. The matching runes in the circle for each element flared briefly under his claws, then faded to nothing. Little by little, her breathing eased and heartbeat strengthened.

Viper lifted his head a fraction, a snarl of protest rattling in his throat, but it died off into a choked wheeze before long.

As her strength returned, Kimberly struggled to rise. Most likely to hide from him. Her legs wouldn’t hold her, so she didn’t keep it up long. He tuned out her thrashing, knowing what was coming next was going to hurt her. Ancient and experienced as he was, he couldn’t bear to watch, knowing what he was going to do to her.

As the last of the intangible threads tying her to Viper broke, he thrust his will into them both. It didn’t take much effort to locate the link in their minds that left her vulnerable to Viper’s manipulations. It was a hot, pulsing thing, dark as pitch and alive with the transfer of energy between them as Viper sucked on her fading life essence to sustain himself and heal his injuries. Without the addition of the elemental threads to support the bond between them, he was killing her, leeching away the golden spark of her magic and spirit instead of using her as a filter to draw from other sources of energy in the vicinity.

Expending an effort of will was all it took to fry the growing threads between them, but it was far more delicate work reaching in to scoop out the ingrained commands and desires inherent in the bond. It was the most dangerous part of his task, because there was a good chance he could rip out vital parts of her spark in the process. If he didn’t, all Viper would need to do to reinstate the full bond would be to get some focus object and make another circle to reestablish the elemental threads between them. She wouldn’t even have to be present for it to work.

She clutched her temples, her screams sending ripples of dread through him that made his scales rise and fall in pattering waves. Doing his best to ignore her distress, he concentrated on his task, putting every ounce of focus into his Sight as he used his will to nip and yank at the mental claws Viper had dug so deeply into the source of her power.

The moment the shadows in her mind dissipated, with a thought, he seared the connection of the spirit to cauterize the psychic wounds he had made. The two cried out simultaneously, both in a great deal of pain, before they slumped unconscious into the mulch.

Cormac strongly considered killing the wyvern out of spite, but he was far more concerned with Kimberly’s wellbeing to bother. He wouldn’t know for hours—maybe days—if he had saved her spark as well as her life. Viper had learned his lesson and would not be showing his scaly hide anywhere near the city for a good long while, he was sure. He could wait. Kimberly could not. He needed to get her as far from that thrice-damned circle as possible and somewhere she could recuperate in peace and safety.

He surged forward, lightly resting his jaw on Kimberly to protect her from the falling trees as he slid forward so he could reach her with both forepaws. Heavy branches and even one trunk struck his thick skull with muted thumps, barely registering beyond the minor annoyance. It was likely for the best that she was not awake to see the cage of talons descend upon her, clasping her to him with all the delicacy he could muster.

He clutched her limp frame in his forepaws, moving slowly so as not to crush her or nick her with his talons. She dangled like a broken marionette in his claws. He arched back to cradle her to his chest, tail coiling and snapping with his agitation, uprooting and slicing through several tree trunks in the process.

Without a backward look spared to the fallen wyvern, he used his hind legs to thrust himself into the air, flinging out his wings to catch the wind. He barely noticed the pain of his injured wing, the blood still flowing from multiple wounds ranging over his body. All he cared about was getting her out of the pine barrens and taking her to his lair where he could properly stand guard and fortify his defenses against anything else that might consider accosting her.

It was all his fault she had been hurt. If he had done things differently, if he had told her what he was, if he had just agreed to be her gods-be-damned familiar, none of this would have happened.

When he was searching for her, he had prayed that she would be unbound and unhurt. It hadn’t done much good the last time he had done so, but this time he prayed that she still had her spark and that she would accept his offer to be her familiar once she woke up and he had a chance to explain himself. It was the only way he could be sure she would be safe.

It was the only way to make sure he never lost her again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Kimberly woke up in someone else’s bed.

She couldn’t remember how she got there. Or what had happened before she blacked out. Every muscle ached, each movement torture as the soft cotton sheets rubbed against the cuts and bruises littering her skin.

Barely able to move, she squinted her eyes open and peered around herself, stilling when turning her head prompted another wave of pain. There were a few fat, white candles placed on the candelabras around the room that kept the darkness at bay. The diffused light still made her eyes sting. The scent of some kind of incense lingered, as did some kind of musky, spicy smell that seemed familiar but she just couldn’t place.

The room was sparsely furnished. Aside from the huge bed she was currently lost in the middle of, there were a pair of end tables, an armoire, and a few standing candelabras. No artwork or mirrors. Her Sight phased in and out, visions of what looked like hundreds of runes magically etched into the walls all aglow with power playing havoc with her already burning eyes.

The combined weakness, pain and disorientation was the only reason she wasn’t luxuriating in the Egyptian cotton sheets, cool and silky against her damaged skin, believing all of this was some kind of surreal dream. There were no clocks anywhere to be seen and blackout curtains on the windows, so she didn’t know if it was day or night.

Then it hit her just how odd it was that she was in someone else’s bedroom. A man’s, if the plain, heavy furniture and lack of interior decorating was anything to go by. Tucked in and wearing an oversized shirt that didn’t belong to her.

Her first thought was vampire. Terror made her go rigid.

Then Cormac strolled in from the open door across the room toward the armoire. Shirtless. As distracting as that was, it took a second for it to register that he was only wearing loose, dark blue pajama pants. The getup was so casual and unlike what she’d seen of him thus far that she couldn’t help but stare.

If she hadn’t felt like she’d been hit by a truck, she might have been intrigued by his current state of undress. His taste in strange, concealing, Victorianesque clothing had hid a lean but deliciously toned body, and a few tattoos that pulsed with dark, arcane energy against his pale skin. Runic symbols, though she was too tired and rattled to place them beyond the obvious one for concealment etched over his heart. A weird place for it, she thought.

His steps faltered briefly when she tilted her head to look at him, his gaze flicking in her direction as he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re awake,” he said, changing his course to take a seat beside her on the bed, twisting around to lightly brush the back of his fingers over her cheek. “You slept for so long I was starting to worry you wouldn’t wake up.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, her initial panic and worry subsiding into a drowsy contentment. He was the source of that warm, woodsy scent she hadn’t been able to place. Funny, she hadn’t noticed it on him before.

“Tired,” she mumbled. Then summoned a bit more energy, forcing her eyes back open as fragments of memories resurfaced and some of the worry returned. “How did I get here?”

“Shh. Relax. You’re safe. Viper can’t touch you here.”

Her features twisted, first in confusion, then deepening into horror as it all came back to her. His hand shot out to press her back into the bed as she struggled to sit up.

“He took me, he bound me—”

Cormac leaned into her, using his torso to keep her pressed into the bed while his hands cupped her cheeks, urging her to look up at him. She clawed at his arms briefly, then stilled, chest heaving and moisture building in her eyes. Once the futility of fighting against his strength sank in, she focused on him.

“Listen to me. The binding is broken. You’re safe now but you need to rest. I’ve taken care of everything.”

“He was in my head! Cormac, he took my magic, I couldn’t stop it…”

Her voice was starting to rise, wavering with horror. The memory of having her powers being sucked out of her, slipping like sand through her metaphorical fingers no matter how hard she had tried to hold onto them, were all too fresh in her mind. The only thing keeping her from dissolving into a total wreck was his steady warmth, holding her tight, keeping her anchored in the present.

“It’s over now. I promise you that. You’re safe with me.”

“Dragon,” she whispered, the tears spilling down her cheeks as she stared up at him, pupils dilated with fear and panic. “There was a dragon. A real one.”

“Yes. And he brought you back here after he broke the familiar bond. Kimberly, this is important. Do you still have the Sight? Can you feel your spark?”

Cormac held his breath as she blinked a few times, then focused her watery eyes on him. The import of what he was asking didn’t sink in immediately. Then she frowned at him.

“Of course I can. Why wouldn’t I?”

His breath left him in a rush, and he lowered his head to rest his brow on hers as he sagged against her in what she thought might be relief. She squirmed a little bit, and he pulled back to give her some breathing room. His worry over something that seemed so insignificant in light of what she had faced was bordering on comical to her, and did a better job of jolting her out of her own anxious state than anything else he had done thus far.

Lifting a hand that had been clinging to his arm a bit too tightly, she mirrored his touch, resting her hand on his cheek. He tilted his head into the soothing stroke of her fingers, making a deep sound of contentment that rumbled straight down to her bones.

“I’m the one who should be comforting you,” he said.

That may have been the case, but he wasn’t pulling away. She returned his wry smile with a tentative one of her own, her fingers stilling. He placed his hand over hers, then turned his head to lightly kiss her palm.