? ? ?
RICHTER PULLED OUT two short blades and blurred, splitting into three transparent versions of himself. Two were false and one was real. The triplets charged, launching a flurry of strikes at Hugh. The preceptor of the Order of Iron Dogs backed away under the barrage, blocked, and kicked, putting all of the power of his massive legs into it. The real Richter flew across the room and bounced off the wall.
The dark-haired woman lunged from the side and stabbed at Hugh, aiming between his left ribs, fast. Hugh leaned back, let the sword pass, and drove his left elbow into the female knight’s face. She stumbled back. Richter dashed back and sliced at Hugh’s right shoulder. Blood sprayed. Hugh backhanded Richter out of the way.
The woman charged in again and froze, caught on Hugh’s blade like a fish on a hook. He thrust up into her chest, twisted, carving out the heart, and hurled her corpse at Richter. The smaller knight dodged and charged Hugh again in a frenzy. Hugh dropped back, blocking with the flat of his blade, his face calm and collected. His eyes turned calculating. It was like Voron had been resurrected and possessed Hugh, and I knew exactly what came next. He would cut Richter apart, slowly, methodically, using every opening. He would not lose his temper, because in this place, where the angle of the blade separated life from death, Hugh was impossible to rattle. If a red-hot meteorite punched through the roof and exploded, he wouldn’t blink an eye. I knew that place well. That was where I was at my best.
Richter drew blood again and again, each strike of his blades opening another minor wound. Hugh held back.
Then Richter swung his right arm a fraction too wide.
Hugh’s sword sliced, precise and merciless. He stabbed Richter in the stomach, whirled, and kicked the knight’s leg out from under him. As Richter dropped to his knees, Hugh stabbed him in the spot where the neck met the shoulder. Richter gasped. Hugh swung his sword and Richter’s head rolled on the floor.
My chest hurt. I would remember this feeling for as long as I lived, this terrible feeling of being locked in a cage and being able to do nothing.
Ted Moynohan roared. A dark red outline flared around his body, sliding over his mace. Apparently the knight-protector had some magic of his own.
Hugh crouched and grabbed a second sword from Towers’s body sprawled on the floor.
Ted charged. Hugh moved out of the way. Ted whipped the mace around as if it weighed nothing. Hugh blocked, letting the mace slide off Towers’s sword, but his arm shook a little. He shifted his feet. That was a hell of a blow. If I were him, I’d try to avoid blocking.
“Did you know who she was when you decided to belittle her?” Hugh asked.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me,” I said.
“Someone has to do it, since you won’t.”
Ted spun the mace and swung at Hugh. Hugh blocked again and the mace head snapped the blade in half. Hugh slashed Ted’s arm with the broken blade and jerked his hand away. The broken sword clattered to the floor. Whatever that red aura was, it hurt like a sonovabitch.
“Did you know who she was?” Hugh repeated.
Ted swung his mace again. Hugh ducked, leaped over Richter’s corpse, and grabbed a shield off the wall.
“You didn’t. You still don’t, do you?”
Ted swung again and Hugh thrust the shield in his way. The mace connected. Boom. The shield rang like a gong.
“I would’ve thought your boys would have better intel.”
Boom.
“At least do your damn homework. Sloppy, Moynohan. Very sloppy.”
Boom. Hugh was waiting for Ted to fall into a pattern. Ted would hit harder and harder, trying to break through the shield with raw strength. Once an opponent fell into a pattern, they became predictable—and they could be defeated.
“When you get a power like that on your side, you move heaven and earth to hold on to it.”
Boom.
“But you didn’t, did you?”
Boom.
“Because you’re a moron.”
Ted swung, putting all his power into the blow, expecting to break through the shield. Hugh stepped right and turned. The mace whistled through the air a hair from his chest. Ted had put so much momentum into the blow, he couldn’t stop. The weight of the mace drove him down and Hugh stabbed him in the chest. If he didn’t hit the heart, he was damn close.
Blood surged. Ted’s eyes bulged.
“No,” Hugh said. “No, that was too easy.”
What?
Ted struggled to raise the mace. The red aura around him died.
Hugh clamped his hand to Ted’s chest. “Come back. You’ve got more in you.”
A blue glow flared around Hugh’s fingers. Something gurgled in Ted’s throat. Red bubbles expanded out of his mouth.
He was healing him. This was torture. “Just let him die!”
“No, not yet.” Hugh shook his head. “Come on. Come back to me.”
Ted’s arms shook. He sucked in a breath.
Hugh released him. The knight-protector stumbled back.
Hugh banged his gladius against the shield. “Come on, knight. Show me more.”
The carmine aura flared around Ted once more. He charged forward and slammed his shoulder into Hugh. Hugh flew back and rolled to a crouch next to the medmage. Steinlein had stood so still, all of us had forgotten he was even there, pressed against the wall and holding a small axe. Before Hugh could rise, the medmage swung the axe. Hugh moved, but not fast enough. The axe sank into his left shoulder.
Hugh kicked out, sweeping the medmage’s legs out from under him. Steinlein crashed down. Hugh buried his gladius in Steinlein’s gut, casually, almost in passing, and rolled to the left just in time to avoid Ted’s mace. The knight-protector chased him.
Steinlein shuddered on the floor. His legs shook. The gaping wound in his stomach gushed blood.
I had no feelings left anymore. Just cold quiet hate.
Hugh charged Ted like a cornered tiger. They clashed, mace to shield, muscling each other across the floor. Hugh dug his feet into the floor and pushed, knocking Ted back. The knight-protector spun his mace, aiming at Hugh’s head. Hugh swung his shield to counter, putting all his enormous strength into the blow. The shield connected, knocking Ted’s mace aside. For a fraction of a second, the knight-protector was wide open. Hugh swung and opened a second mouth in Ted’s stomach. Ted sagged against the wall and slid down.
Mauro charged into the room, bloody and smeared with soot. Blood dripped from his short, wide sword. “I can’t hold them. Pull the . . .” He saw the bodies. His eyes bulged. He dropped his sword.
“Don’t!” I yelled.
Mauro bellowed and ripped off his shirt. Tattoos wound along his torso, dense swirls of dark ink in precise patterns. He clapped his hands together like a sumo wrestler. His skin turned black. The edges of his tattoos flared bright red, shifting slightly, as if his obsidian skin had cracked along their lines, revealing a glimpse of the lava underneath. Heat bathed me, rolling off him in waves.
Hugh shrugged his shoulders. “Come on, big man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Mauro charged. Hugh swung out of the way and sliced at Mauro’s stomach with the gladius. The blade glanced off. Mauro drove his shoulder into Hugh. The preceptor flew a few feet and bounced off the wall. Mauro lunged at him, roaring. Hugh spun out of the way, avoiding being trapped.
Hugh was better with a sword, but I had once seen Mauro lift a car when a cat was trapped under it. Do it, you can do it.
Hugh stabbed the gladius at Mauro’s side. The blade slid off. Hugh dropped the gladius and drove his fist into Mauro’s throat. It was a hard, powerful punch. Hugh’s skin sizzled. He stumbled back. Hot enough for you, you asshole?
Mauro locked his hands on Hugh’s throat and drove him into the wall. Hugh’s back slapped the stone with a satisfying thud. Mauro slammed him again and again.
“Snap his neck,” I yelled.
Mauro smashed Hugh into the stone again, shaking him back and forth. He didn’t hear me. He was too far gone.
Hugh thrust his arms upward, between Mauro’s massive arms, trying to break his hold. The air smelled of singed flesh. Hugh jerked his arms up, Mauro’s arms went wide, and the big knight headbutted Hugh in the face. Blood drenched Hugh’s lips. Broken nose, for sure.
Mauro grabbed Hugh into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet. Bones groaned.
“Kate!” Robert pointed to the right. I glanced in that direction at the medmage lying in a pool of blood. Steinlein strained to say something and reached into his pocket.
Hugh jabbed his thumbs into Mauro’s eyes. Mauro hurled him aside like Hugh weighed nothing.
Steinlein pulled out a bloody key ring.
Keys. Keys to the cage. I dropped on my knees by the bars. “Here.” If I could get out of the cage, between Mauro and me Hugh was finished.
Mauro grabbed at Hugh, but the preceptor moved out of the way. Burns covered his arms. The flesh around Hugh’s neck blistered.
Steinlein’s hand shook. He crawled toward the cage, leaving a bloody smudge on the floor. Hurry. Hurry.
Mauro bellowed again.
Steinlein stretched his hand with the keys toward me. I reached for it. The tips of my fingers just brushed against the keys. Magic sawed through my arm with fiery teeth and I jerked my fingers back. Damn it.
Hugh darted behind Mauro, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, planted his right hand on Mauro’s shoulder, and swept his legs out from under him. The big man crashed down like a colossus on legs of sand. The room shook from the impact. Mauro’s head bounced off the floor.
Steinlein pulled himself forward another foot and collapsed, his hand stretching to the bars. I thrust my arm through the ward. The magic burned me, so intense that tears slid from my eyes. I clenched my teeth and reached through the agony, stretching.
I couldn’t let Mauro die, not big, kind, funny Mauro. He’d watched my back, he brought my dog treats, he helped people . . . I wanted him to live and be happy. I wanted him to go home to his wife. I wanted it so much. I didn’t want him to die here.
Magic was ripping my arm off.
Mauro was my friend. I couldn’t let him die here.
The world melted into pain. I screamed.
Something pulled me back. I blinked and realized Robert’s arms gripped me. My fingers held the blood-slicked keys.
Hugh grabbed his sword with both hands, point down, and drove it into the big man’s chest, sinking the entire weight and power of his body into it. The gladius sank in three inches. Mauro screamed.
I lunged to the door.
“No!” Robert clamped me down.
Hugh picked up Ted’s mace and brought it down onto the gladius like a hammer. The sword slid into Mauro’s chest.
Mauro gasped. His skin paled, his tattoos fading. His body shuddered. The massive knight drew a single hoarse breath and lay still.
He killed him. He killed Mauro. It felt like someone opened a big dark pit under me and I was falling into it screaming. I failed. I wasn’t fast enough. My friend was dead and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. He was alive yesterday morning. He’d curtsied in my office.
He killed Mauro. I was right there and he . . .
I couldn’t breathe. My rage and grief were choking me, trying to rip out of me.
Oh my God, what would I tell his wife?
Hugh straightened, groaning, spat blood to the side, and crouched by Ted. His face was a bloody mess. On the floor seven people lay dead or dying. In the corner Nick looked at all of it, impassive.
Hugh surveyed the scene and looked at the wound gaping across Ted’s gut.
“I like this better—more satisfying all around. Gives us a few moments to bond before you pass on. I have a secret to tell you about one of your former employees.” Hugh turned on his feet and put his arm around Ted, moving his face so he would see me. “That one. She really hates cages, by the way. You’ll like this.”
He leaned closer to Ted and whispered into his ear. Ted’s eyes bulged.
“Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?” Hugh smiled.
He straightened and closed his eyes. Magic condensed around him. A pale blue glow licked his shoulder. His wounds knitted closed. His nose reset itself. He shrugged and walked up to my cage, blood dripping from his sword.
“It never lasts. They die too quickly on me. Give me the keys, Kate. You fought a good fight, but it’s over.”
“No.” Before I would’ve left the cage to fight him so I could save them. Now there was no need. Now they were dead. Mauro was dead.
“Was he a friend?” Hugh glanced at the big knight’s body. “So sorry. Give me the keys.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I told him. “If I don’t, Curran will.”
“That’s why I like you. It’s always the hard way.” Hugh turned on his foot, his boot sliding on the blood, and walked over to Ascanio. “What do we have here?”
I didn’t think I had enough stamina left to be scared. I was wrong.
He glanced at Steinlein’s corpse. “That would be his handiwork. I detest amateurs. The kid is a shapeshifter and a teenager. His regeneration factor is through the roof. I mean really, how difficult is it to heal this?”
Don’t touch him. Don’t . . .
Hugh held his hands out and began to chant under his breath. Magic moved, slow and sluggish at first, then faster and faster, winding around Hugh and raining on Ascanio’s body. The crushed ribs crawled under the boy’s skin, re-forming.
Hugh stopped chanting. The flow of magic stopped as if cut by a knife and I almost cried out.
Ascanio lay on the table, pale and smeared with blood. He looked so young. So young, just a child dying slowly on the metal table.
“So what will it be, Kate?”
Hugh held his hand out and Ascanio’s wounds began to knit themselves closed. “Yes?” He closed his hand into a fist. The healing stopped. “Or no?”
“Don’t.” Robert’s voice vibrated with urgency. “Don’t take the bait.”
“Yes?” Fractured shards of ribs slid into place.
Ascanio had trusted me to keep him safe. I had promised Aunt B. I’d promised her on her grave that I would look after her people.
“Or no?” The flesh stopped moving.
“Perhaps you’d like me to do it in reverse?” Hugh raised his eyebrows.
“No.” The word escaped before I could catch it.
“Don’t!” Robert’s voice snapped like a whip.
Hugh grimaced, his face jerking with effort. Ascanio’s bones crunched. Oh God.
“Make up your mind,” Hugh said. “Because I’ll splinter every bone in his body. He’ll be soft like a rag doll by the time I’m done.”
I couldn’t let Ascanio die. It wasn’t in me.
It felt like the words cut my mouth on their way out. “Heal him and I’ll open the cage.”
“This is a mistake,” Robert said.
Hugh smiled.
I held up the keys. “You have my word. Heal the boy and I’ll open the cage.”
Hugh turned to Ascanio and raised his hand. Magic built around him like a wave about to break. A steady blue glow slowly flared around his body.
The magic plunged onto Ascanio’s body in a deluge. He cried out.
Ted struggled to say something. His big body shook. The tough old bastard refused to die.
Hugh ignored him, his magic streaming from him into Ascanio.
Ted’s voice was a hoarse rattle, as if an anvil rested on his chest and he couldn’t draw enough air. “Your . . . mission . . .”
Ascanio’s rib cage expanded back, the bones moving slowly back into his chest.
“. . . is . . .”
Ted gasped. Blood poured from his mouth. “Aborted.”
What?
“Effective immediately.”
Ted’s legs convulsed. He gripped the edge of the desk, holding himself upright by sheer will. “Central, acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged,” Maxine’s voice said in my head. Robert looked around, startled. Hugh stopped and raised his head. Everyone in the room must’ve heard it. “Knight-crusader Nikolas Feldman, you are hereby ordered to return to regular duties.”
I knew only one Feldman. Greg, my deceased guardian.
Ted’s hand slipped. He sagged to the ground. Blood gushed out of his mouth.
Nick stepped forward. The twin thorn vines shot out of his body and punched Hugh in the chest, sweeping him off his feet. The preceptor of the Order of Iron Dogs flew and crashed to the floor outside the room. Nick ripped a green shield off the wall, revealing a switch and punching it. A metal portcullis slid in place, separating Hugh from the rest of us.
They had a portcullis! I almost choked. Okay, so I didn’t know it was there; the other knights may not have known either. But Ted knew. He could’ve locked Hugh out at any time.
Hugh rolled to his feet and screamed, a howl of pure fury.
Uath ran down the stairs. “We have to go.”
Hugh stabbed at the portcullis with his hand. “I want this broken.”
“There’s no time,” she said.
He spun to her, his face contorted.
Uath shrank back. “A National Guard platoon is incoming. They’re less than a mile out.”
“How many?”
“Two squads. Eighteen soldiers and a mage unit. We can wipe them out but it will take too much time. By the time we’re done, half of the city will be on us.”
Hugh looked at the ceiling.
“Sir,” Uath said. “Should I take up a defensive position?”
Hugh’s anger imploded. His face slid into icy calm. “No. Move our people out.”
Uath ran back up the stairs.
Hugh pointed through the bars at Nick. “Well played. You and I aren’t done.” He turned to me. “At noon, I’ll be coming for you.”
He turned and walked up the stairs.
I thrust my hand between the bars and unlocked the cage.
Nick walked over to Ted, crouched, and touched his neck. His voice shook with suppressed rage.
“Well, here we are. You’re dead, you fucking dumb bastard. Two years of my life undercover. Do you have any idea what sort of shit I’ve seen? Do you know the things I had to do? The things they did to me? Two years of gathering information, waiting for a chance to make a difference. And you burned me. You threw it all away so you could have a witness to your holy war.” Nick rose and kicked Ted in the head. “And now you’re dead, you fucker, and I have to live with all of it.”
I swung the door open and ran to Ascanio. He was breathing. The gashes were still open, but his chest was no longer a misshapen mess. I turned to Mauro and felt for a pulse. Please. Please, please, please . . .
No shiver. Not a hint. Mauro was dead. He was dead. How would I ever explain it to his wife? How . . . ? Who would look after all the dogs he raised . . . ? He was just alive, just a minute ago. He would never go home. He was just dead. I felt so hollow, so ragged, as if my soul had been shredded to pieces. It hurt. It just hurt so much.
When the National Guardsmen came to pry us out of the vault, I was sitting by Mauro’s body, Robert was trying to call to the Pack from the Order’s phone, and Nick was kicking Ted Moynohan’s corpse and growling like a rabid animal.