Magic Binds

CHAPTER 14

I STOOD IN our backyard as the sun set and tugged on the invisible ocean of magic around me.

“Take and hold,” my aunt said.

The magic flexed, obeying my will. All through the land I claimed, the magic stopped, hardening, as if the pliable soft water had solidified into impenetrable ice. It was like working a muscle. Her magic battered my “ice” wall and retreated.

We’d been at this for four hours.

“Release. Take and hold. Release. You’re doing better, but you need to think less. The magic of the land is a shield. You’re raising it. It should be instinctive, or you won’t react in time.”

Take and hold. Release.

Take and hold. Release.

“Commit!” my aunt snarled. Magic walloped me upside the head. My vision swam.

“Ow.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“That I’ll take too much.”

“Too much what?”

“Too much magic. Once I fought a djinn and used a power word against him . . .”

Erra rolled her eyes to the sky. “Mother, give me strength. Why would you do an idiotic thing like that?”

“Because I didn’t know that we have djinn blood.” That was when I learned that a long time ago one of my ancestors was an ifrit, and the presence of her blood in our bloodline made djinn immune to our power words. Which raised the question of what would happen if I ever used a power word against my father. It probably wouldn’t work. Hugh and Adora seemed to have no problem using power words against me and their brains didn’t blow up, but their blood wasn’t exactly as potent as my father’s.

Erra’s nostrils fluttered. Come to think of it, she breathed. I could see her chest rising and falling. She had no reason to breathe; she was dead. Maybe it was force of habit.

My head rang. “Ow.”

“Concentrate! What happened with the djinn?”

“My brain tried to explode. I was dying, not physically, but mentally. The magic was down and there was very little they could do for me. So I lay in bed, feeling myself die, and I reached out and took some magic to keep myself alive. It hurt the land.”

Suddenly my aunt’s face was half an inch from mine. “Listen to me very carefully. Do not do that again. If you keep doing this, it will make you akillu, the devourer, an abomination. You are a queen. Your responsibility is to defend the land, not to feed on it.”

“I wasn’t planning on a repeat performance.”

“Good, because I’ll kill you myself if you do that again. It is a sacred rule. Even at my worst, I never resorted to that. When your father’s beloved towers fell, he did not feed on the land to hold them up.”

“Got it,” I growled.

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “I blame Im. One doesn’t simply hand a child a piece of land and let her stumble around in the dark with it. Has he taught you anything?”

“He’s offered, but only if I pledged to obey him.”

“I don’t understand that. He loves nothing more than to teach. He taught all of his children, even the ones he disliked. Even those who had neither brains nor power to do any real damage to themselves or others. You’re intelligent, disciplined, and you have power. You’re one of the strongest of his children I’ve seen. Why?”

“I thought about that,” I said. “I think it’s because I don’t matter.”

She stared at me. “Explain.”

“It’s not important for me to know anything about ruling the land. In his mind, I’m your replacement.”

She recoiled.

“He sees me as a sword, not a ruler. No matter what he says, I will never get the keys to his kingdom. I’m meant to kill for him and lead his armies at best, and die at worst. I don’t know if it’s because I’m too old or too stubborn, but there it is. If I blight the land accidentally, all the better. It would make me desperate enough to beg him for his wisdom and he can move me into the place he has chosen for me. If all else fails, from his point of view, I would make a decent vessel for bringing his grandson into this world. I know the prophecy says he will kill my son, but given a chance, I think he would take him. He likes new and shiny things, and my son will be shiny.”

Erra stared at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was shocked.

“You are not a hireling,” she said finally. “You are a child of royal blood. His blood. My blood. It is your right to know these things. It is his duty as your parent to pass them on to you.”

I spread my arms.

She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her face. “You, our mother . . . It’s like I don’t know him anymore. There’s nothing left of the golden child he was. Is it because I slept while he stayed awake for another thousand years, or was I just that blind during my life?”

“He isn’t wrong,” I said. “I do make a better killer than a ruler.”

Magic exploded on my chest. I landed on my ass.

“Never put yourself down,” Erra snarled. “You are my niece. If he won’t teach you, I will! I may have never claimed a kingdom, but not because I don’t know how to do it or what to do once the claim is made. Get up. You have to practice.”

I rolled to my feet. “It wants to change me.”

“What does?”

“The land. The Shar. When I use the magic, I feel urges.”

Erra’s eyes narrowed. “Desire for more power?”

“No, desire to not be accountable for anything. I stop caring about things that are important, like family, friends . . .”

“Listen to me carefully. The Shar pushes you to acquire land and defend it. It fuels your feud with your father. It does not do anything else. What you’re experiencing is a different thing entirely. When you sense the land, what does it feel like to you?”

“An ocean.”

“Right now, you are a barren rock within this ocean. A part of you feels the great power that lies there and wants to become one with it. There is so much magic there and you are only human. But because you are human, you impose limitations on yourself, things you won’t do no matter what. These limitations are good. They keep your ego intact. Without them you would melt into the waters.”

“What would happen then?”

“You would become everything you fear. A tyrant, a demon, eventually a god. Hang whatever label you wish upon it. You must find a way to draw the ocean into yourself without losing who you are. You absorb it, not the other way around. That is fundamentally harder than letting yourself become one with it.”

I stared at her.

“You’re not fighting the land!” she barked, exasperated. “You’re fighting yourself. The combined magical power of the land is far greater than you are, but it has no will of its own. Interacting with it is terrifying, because your instincts are warning you about the enormous power difference between you and it. Your fear is pushing you to subjugate it, and fear is telling you that once you impose your will on the land, it will be a slave and no longer a danger. But this is the one thing you cannot do. It will feel like a victory, but in reality it will be the end of who you are. You must find a balance, a place within your land’s power. Doing that is a lot harder, and so a part of you rebels against all of the work you must do to get there. Yes, it will feel as if some outside force is pushing on you. I’ve known people who even heard its voice and talked to it. Some of them went mad, child. Trust me, it’s you. You have to overcome yourself. If the land had a will of its own and was wrestling with you, it would be so much easier. You would just crush it and move on. But you are fighting yourself.”

“How do I win?”

“That’s for you to figure out. One or the other part of you will get the upper hand. It’s not important now. Your father is preparing for battle. You must prepare to defend your land and all within it. What we’re practicing now is fundamentally different from what you’ve done before to keep yourself alive. You’re taking nothing. You’re shaping the magic the way a vessel maker shapes clay and then releasing it. This harms nothing. Feel the magic. Commit. Let yourself sink fully into it, but do not let it pull your essence apart.”

I let the ocean of magic wash over me.

“Deeper,” my aunt demanded. “I won’t let you harm anyone.”

I opened myself and let it swallow me whole.

“Finally,” Erra said. “Take and hold. Release. Again. Again. Again . . .”

I LAY ON my back in the grass and watched the stars get brighter. I was so tired.

Curran loomed over me. I didn’t hear him approach. His gray eyes were dark.

“What?” I sat up.

“I told Derek to meet me here at nine. It’s ten now.”

Derek was punctual. If he said he would here at nine, he would be here. You could set your clock by him. Alarm pinched me. “Maybe he got held up?”

“He called, said he and Julie were going to run a short errand, and then they would come straight here. That was two hours ago. Julie was supposed to meet with Roman about bridesmaid dresses. He’s been sitting in our living room for half an hour.”

Something had happened.

I rolled to my feet. “I’ll get the car.”

Fifteen minutes later we drove out into the night, with the black volhv in the backseat.

“Did they say where they were going?” I asked.

“Near Gryphon Street.”

My old apartment was on Karen Road, off Gryphon Street. Crap.

“Thick magic tonight,” Roman said from the backseat.

I felt it, too. It was flooding me with power. Streets sped by.

“Any idea what they would be doing on Gryphon?” Curran asked.

Probably moving an assassin who thought I was her key to heaven into my apartment. “Some.”

“Feel like sharing?”

“No.”

“Kate, I’m getting sick of this. I was cool with Mishmar, I dealt with you bringing the ghost of your aunt into our house, but I’m done with all the secrecy. You know what’s going on and now the kids are in danger.”

“I’ll tell you afterward. It’s complicated to explain and you’ll be pissed off.”

“I’m already pissed off,” he snarled.

Not yet. When he was truly angry, he would turn ice cold.

“Look, it’s my fault, and now Julie has taken it upon herself to fix my mess. But right now let’s find the kids, and I promise you, you can roar as much as you want after.”

His eyes were completely gold. The steering wheel groaned slightly under the pressure of his fingers.

He would leave me. I knew it with absolute certainty. When he found out everything, he would leave. This was one straw too many.

“She’s right,” Roman said from the backseat. “Rescue first.”

“Stay out of this,” Curran and I said at the same time.

Roman raised his hands.

Curran took a turn. We shot out onto the street leading to the Berkins overpass, a massive stone bridge spanning a field of rubble where several office towers had collapsed and part of the city had sunk.

To the right side, Julie knelt on the bridge. Around her a faint red glow shimmered in a circle. She’d set a blood ward. Within the defensive spell, Derek paced back and forth. Adora knelt by Julie, her head bowed.

Behind the circle a dozen people waited. Two stood out, at the back of the group, a man and a woman, twins in their early twenties, both redheaded, both wearing the black and purple of the sahanu. Five hyenas sat by the female twin’s feet, secured by long chains.

“The twins are my father’s assassins,” I said.

The female twin reached down and took the collar off the first hyena.

“My lord is so good to me.” Roman grinned.

“What?”

“It’s a bridge.” He rubbed his hands together. “I love bridges!”

Arrows hit the car. Magic whined and our windshield shattered.

Curran threw the wheel to the right and braked. The car skidded to a stop, the driver’s side facing the bridge. He grabbed the door. Metal groaned. The door came free. Curran heaved it in front of him like a shield. His body tore. Bones grew, powerful muscle wound about them, and fur sheathed the new body. His jaws lengthened, the bones of his skull crunching and moving to make new leonine jaws. Fangs the size of my fingers burst from his gums. Sharp claws tipped the fingers of his monstrous hands. The change took less than a second, and then the nightmare that was Curran in warrior form snarled and leapt onto the bridge.

“Scatter!” the male twin ordered. “He’s ours.”

My father’s soldiers dashed out of Curran’s way, clearing the path to the twins.

I jumped out of the car and ducked behind the hood as chunks of sharp ice the size of my fist peppered the vehicle. Mages. Crap.

“Roman!” I yelled.

“I’ve got it.”

Roman straightened, ignoring the ice, and slammed the butt of his staff on the bridge steps, his eyes glowing. The staff’s wooden top flowed, turning into a monstrous bird head. The wooden beak gaped open and the staff screamed. Darkness shot out from under his feet, spiraling around him and breaking into a thousand crows. The murder surged around the bridge, like a horizontal tornado, blocking the ice.

I sprinted across the bridge toward the kids.

In the circle Derek was shaking Julie, but her eyes were still closed. He should’ve been able to exit the ward, but she must’ve set it closed both ways. They were trapped in it.

Power words were out of the question. Wasting one on individual fighters wasn’t worth the risk. The only two words that would affect every single one of the fighters would be ahissa, flee, or osanda, kneel, but both of these would hit Julie’s ward and Curran. I didn’t know how her blood ward would react to power words. Besides I didn’t want them to kneel or flee. I wanted to murder every one of them.

Curran reached the twin sahanu. The male twin grinned. His mouth gaped, wider and wider. Fangs sprouted from his gums. His clothes tore, and an enormous werehyena landed on the bridge. He wasn’t a bouda. He was too large, almost as large as Curran, and his fur was thick and striped with short smudges of dark brown.

Crocuta crocuta spelaea. Crap. Sienna was never wrong.

I was almost to Julie and Derek.

The female twin cackled and the pack of hyenas at her feet cackled back. The female sahanu jerked the last collar open and dropped the tangle of chains.

“See us, Sharrim!” The female sahanu shrieked. Her skin tore. Fur spilled out. The hyenas at her feet barked and cackled. “Know us! Bless us with your blood when we bathe in it!”

My father couldn’t be allowed to educate any more assassins. That creepy pseudo-religious bullshit they were spouting had to end.

The female sahanu snarled. The hyena pack tore across the bridge toward me.

Curran and the male werehyena collided. The werehyena struck at his neck. Curran avoided the blow and clawed at the male werehyena’s chest. The female raked her claws across his gray back. He snarled. They had no idea what Curran was capable of when he was seriously pissed off. They were about to find out.

An arrow clattered by my feet. The archers had woken up and realized they had a shot at me.

The first hyena lunged at me. I dodged the massive jaws and opened the side of its neck with my blade. The beast charged me and I kicked it. The hyena stumbled.

In half a second the whole pack would be on me.

I thrust my hand into the ward and detonated it. It shattered, like a pane of translucent red glass, the pieces falling down and melting into nothing.

Julie’s eyes snapped open. She cried out as the magic backlash hit her.

The leading hyena bit my thigh, sinking her teeth into me. Like being clamped by a bear trap. I stabbed straight down, severing the beast’s spine.

The second hyena leapt at me. A werewolf collided with her in midair, knocking her to the side. The hyena crashed down, its neck broken.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman lunging at me from the left, swinging an axe. She fell, cut down by a lightning-fast katana strike.

“Sharrim!” Adora smiled at me.

Derek howled. The two remaining hyenas turned toward him.

Eleven targets between me and Curran. I dipped my hand into the blood running down my thigh and forced it into shape. A blood dagger formed in my left hand. I started forward.

Across the bridge the two monstrosities tore into Curran. Bones crunched. The female werehyena’s left arm hung limp. A chunk of the male werehyena’s right side was missing, the wound red and raw. Blood drenched Curran’s fur. I couldn’t tell who was winning, but I knew who would be left standing. He would kill them both. If I got there in time, he would leave some for me.

Two women flanked me, each with a sword. Saber on my left, Katana on my right. To the left a man with a large mace rushed Adora.

Saber and Katana split, circling me. If I turned toward one, my back would be to the other.

Saber brandished her sword. It was an older-style blade, larger and heavier than modern variants.

Katana watched me like a hawk, her body in seigan kamae: right foot forward with most of the weight on the leading leg; sword directly in front, held with a slight bend to the elbows; the kissaki, the point of the katana, aimed at my eyes. A harmonious balance of both attack and defense.

Saber would fence. Katana would rely on a single strike at the right moment. One accurate cut. Such was the way of the samurai. Their best strategy would be for Saber to engage, with Katana waiting for an opening.

I didn’t have time for them to decide when to attack me. I turned ever so slightly toward Katana, shifting my weight to my right leg.

The saber fighter thrust with dizzying speed. Katana struck, a beautiful diagonal blow. A moment stretched into eternity. I shied back, blocking the katana and letting the saber slide a hair from my stomach, drove my blood dagger into Saber’s throat, jerked it out, pushed Katana back, and thrust the blood blade into her stomach.

Time snapped back to its normal speed, an elastic band let loose. The two women fell. I knelt, driving the two blades into their bodies, and kept walking. Nine.

The crows vanished. At the other end of the bridge a female mage slumped over, exhausted. I glanced back. Roman leaned on his staff, breathing like he’d run a marathon.

A man lunged at me. I sidestepped his strike and turned, ramming my elbow into his chest. He stumbled back and I sliced his neck open. Eight.

A woman, two swords, fast. I blocked one slash, let the other graze me, and kicked her in the head. She fell and I sank Sarrat between her ribs, ripping up her lungs and heart. Seven.

Curran roared. The male werehyena clamped his side. The female tore at his arm, locked around her throat. The sound of bones crunching—his ribs broke under the pressure of hyena teeth.

A man, a mace, a head rolling on the bridge. Adora. Six.

A woman, lance, too slow. I opened her stomach from side to side and stabbed her when she wouldn’t stay down. Five.

An arrow sliced into my left shoulder. Pain. Nothing major. The bowman notched another and fell as Derek shattered his skull. Four.

Curran roared. Blood ran down his face—one of them had gotten him right over the muzzle. The two hyenas circled him, slow. Fighting him tired you out.

Curran limped, favoring his left leg. I knew that move. It was called “come and get it.” He’d caught me with it three times, twice with a limp and once with a supposedly injured shoulder. He was inviting a direct attack.

The hyenas closed in, sensing a sure kill.

“For you, Sharrim!” Adora dropped her sword and sprinted forward.

“No!”

I ran after her.

She swiped the tangle of chains that had been used to hold the hyenas, looped one chain around her wrists, and leapt, swinging it out. The chain caught the female werehyena’s neck. The female twin stumbled back. Adora landed on the short wall of the bridge, her back to the eighty-foot drop.

A power word punched the werehyena. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Adora smiled at me and jumped over the edge, taking the female werehyena with her.

Oh God.

The chain tangle slid. I dropped Sarrat and grabbed it. The chain jerked, nearly ripping my arms out of the sockets. Below me Adora dangled over an eighty-foot drop, her right wrist still caught in the chain’s loop. The werehyena’s body lay broken below.

“Traitor!” an inhuman voice howled behind me

“Let me die!” Adora tried to rip the chain off her wrist. “Sharrim, let me serve in death. Please!”

Fire sliced my back. Someone had tried to slash through my spine. I molded the blood gushing from the cut, forming it into a narrow strip of blood armor, shielding my vertebrae.

If I dropped the chain, there would be no questions. I could tell Curran whatever I wanted. Derek wouldn’t talk about Adora, and neither would Julie. Curran wouldn’t leave me. I wouldn’t have to hide Adora, I wouldn’t have to be responsible for her, and I wouldn’t have to break her world and tell her I didn’t have the keys to heaven.

Drop her, the magic insisted. Drop her. It’s the smart thing to do. The right thing to do.

The pressure ground against me, as if my soul had split in two. One part wanted power, the other knew what was right, both of them wanted Curran, and I was torn in the middle.

Drop her and everything will be okay. It’s what she wants.

Drop her.

DROP HER.

. . .

No.

Something snapped inside me, like pieces sliding into place. I gripped that voice inside of me and choked it into silence. “Do not let go!” I barked. “That’s an order.”

“Let me go.” She was weeping. “I’ll go to heaven. I’ll serve you forever in the afterlife.”

“I’m not a god. There is no fucking afterlife heaven where you can serve me. My father made it up. Adora, don’t let go.”

A furry arm gripped the chain below mine and flexed. The enormous weight vanished. Curran pulled the chain up, hand over hand, his face all lion, his eyes burning.

Around us, bodies littered the bridge, the male werehyena’s head lying by his body, his neck a shredded stump where Curran’s teeth had torn flesh and cracked bone. Derek’s sides and legs were drenched in blood. Julie lay slumped in a heap, exhausted. Roman’s face was bloodless.

Curran pulled a weeping Adora onto the bridge and pulled the chain off her.

She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Sharrim. I’m so sorry.”

I saw it in his eyes. This was one straw too many.

“Get the kids into the car,” he said.

“I can . . .”

The expression on his face stopped me cold.

“Get into the car.”

I packed Adora into the Jeep. Curran picked up Julie and carried her in.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m tired,” she whispered. “So tired.”

Roman picked himself up and got into the car. Derek limped his way to the Jeep. Curran held the front passenger door open for him. The werewolf crawled into the vehicle. Curran shut the door.

“Go home.”

“Curran . . .”

“Go home,” he repeated, his face iced over.

I started the engine, backed the Jeep up, and turned it around. In the rearview mirror the bridge behind me was empty.

“Is he coming back?” Julie whispered.

“Of course he’s coming back,” I told her. I had no doubt about it. Curran wouldn’t leave me, especially not without talking to me first. “He just needs to cool down.”

“I’m sorry,” Adora whispered.

“It’s okay,” I told Adora. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”

It was mine.

I TOOK EVERYONE home. That was all I could do.

The kids had been moving Adora to my old apartment when they were jumped. Derek wanted to fight, but Julie had made a double blood ward to keep him in. Making one took a wallop of power. Making two wiped her out, but her wards had held out against everything Roland’s people were able to throw at them. The werehyena sahanu had run their mouths. Julie was the intended target. They had tracked her to our neighborhood but saw too many of Mahon’s bears. I would have to thank him. So rather than go in, they left a scout and caught up with her, Adora, and Derek on the bridge.

I had taken Saiman back and ripped Adora away from my father. He retaliated by trying to take Julie away from me. There was no going back after this.

Erra wanted a full report. I told her Julie would explain. I didn’t feel like talking.

Derek’s injuries were minor. He bled a lot, but healed quickly. Mine weren’t much either. I’d called Nellie and promised her the sun and the sky if she came to patch everyone up. She did. She also issued Adora and me a sedative. I didn’t take mine.

Nellie left. I’d called in some cavalry and now I sat on the porch, waiting.

Four people emerged from the night and came onto the porch. I’d called the bears Mahon assigned to guard our street. Raoul, short but so broad-shouldered that he looked almost square, stopped by me. “No worries. We’ll sit on them for the night.”

“Thanks. If anything nasty comes up, the wards around the house will hold it off.”

“If anything nasty comes up, we’ll break it.” Lilian patted my hand.

“Thanks, guys.”

I went to the stables and got my giant donkey. Cuddles must’ve sensed that now wasn’t the time for her “special” behavior, so she gave me no trouble. I saddled her and left.

Around me, the city lay steeped in magic. I breathed the night in and tasted the magic on my tongue. We were oddly at peace, the magic and I.

The lights of the feylanterns blinked in the distant windows, enchanted blue sparks fighting against the darkness. I kept riding. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t want to stay in our house. It was our house together. Every memory and everything in it was something we’d made together. It felt like I’d ruined it.

I needed time by myself to think and sort this out. I couldn’t do it at our house, in our bedroom or on our porch. I needed space. Curran would be back. He would stand by me no matter what, and I would stand by him. I didn’t want to be me right this second. If I could’ve crawled out of my skin, I would’ve.

I let Cuddles meander her way through the streets until I raised my head and saw we were in front of my old apartment building. I stared at it. When I worked for the Order I would be coming back exactly like this, except riding Marigold. I’d have to punch my aunt for killing my mule. Too bad she wouldn’t feel it. I must’ve unconsciously given Cuddles some cues. Where to turn, which way to go . . .

Just as well. I put Cuddles into the apartment’s stables, went upstairs, and unlocked the door. I hadn’t had a chance to set any wards after Curran had it remodeled post-my-aunt-wrecking-it, but at least we had put a new door on it. I didn’t have the best luck with doors.

I went inside, pushed the door shut, and sat at my kitchen table.

This used to be Greg’s apartment, and then it was mine. There were memories here too, but a lot of them were mine alone.

I sat at the kitchen table and tried not to think. I felt too bruised inside. Numb.

This is where it all started. When I came to Atlanta to investigate Greg’s death and eventually ended up in this apartment. Life was so much easier back then, when I was a simple merc. Even working for the Order wasn’t too bad. The job wasn’t always straightforward, but I helped people more than I hurt them.

Fuck it.

I got up and went into the living room. It was a one-bedroom apartment and even after Greg’s death, the bedroom belonged to him and his memories. It was his space. When I lived here, I always slept on the couch in the living room, which was why Curran had put a bed here. And of course, it was almost four feet high, and you needed a ladder to crawl onto it.

I would give almost anything for him to be on that bed right now making fun of me.

I opened the windows, unlocked the bars, and let the night in. Why the hell not. It wasn’t like anyone would come to bother me anyway. I took off the leather harness with Sarrat in it and put it on the night table. I pulled off my boots and sat on the bed. I kept thinking my father would wreck my life, but no, turned out it was all me.

A hand gripped the windowsill.

Now I was seeing things.

Curran vaulted into the room, human and dressed. He came over and sat next to me.

“Stopped by the house?”

“I tailed you to make sure you got there in one piece. Talked to the kids after you left. Thought you would be at Cutting Edge, but you weren’t. This was the next place. Would’ve gone to the Savannah house after that.”

“Trained detective.”

“That’s right.”

We sat side by side. Outside the window the stars winked at us.

“I leave to clear my head and you run away from the house,” he said.

“I didn’t run away.” Yep, I totally did.

We sat quietly for a few more moments.

“I wanted to tell you about Adora.”

“I understand why you might want to hold things back. We both deal with fucked-up shit and we try to shield each other. I don’t like it, but I get it, because I’ve done it before and I can’t swear I won’t do it again. But I don’t understand why you hid her. Derek and Julie tried to explain it to me, but neither of them made sense. Did you think I wouldn’t listen to you? I’ve always been cool. I might not like things that you did, but I always listen, Kate. What made you think I would lose it?”

I sighed. “I hid her, because I would have to explain why I didn’t kill her.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because her existence made me so mad, my hands shook. I wasn’t mad because what was done to her was wrong. I was mad because my father dared to send her into my territory to take what was mine. I wanted to hurt him. If I’d had a knife and could’ve reached him in that moment, I would’ve sliced all the flesh off his bones. You have no idea how much I wanted to do it. I took her away from my father, because I wanted to send a big ‘Fuck You’ his way. Her life at that point didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care that she was a person. She was a thing. She was my father’s toy and I took her away so I could taunt him with her. I almost made her into a slave. I only stopped because some switch flipped in my brain and I realized you wouldn’t like it. Enslaving her goes against everything I stand for. That’s not me. That’s not who I am. I should’ve stopped because of that. I didn’t want to explain it to you. I didn’t want you to know this about me.”

I didn’t look at him. There. It was all out.

“Why didn’t you let her go on the bridge? Would’ve ended all the questions.”

I sighed. “Because it would be wrong. Everything that happened to her was wrong. It’s wrong to buy children, it’s wrong to stick them into a fortress and make them into killers, it’s wrong to promise them that they will get into paradise if they obey you, it’s wrong to order them to kill people, it’s wrong to bind them with your blood, which you told them is holy, and it’s wrong to break that binding because you’re engaged in a pissing contest with your father. She’s a person. She is me, Curran, or at least what Voron wanted me to be. My father didn’t come up with this idea out of the blue. He watched Voron teach Hugh and he simply improved on the concept and mass-produced it.”

He waited.

“She wanted to throw away her life for me, but I don’t deserve her life or her loyalty. The moment I chose to take her away from my father and let her live, I became responsible for her. You saw her. The only time she was allowed into the world was when there was a target and a handler. She deserves to have a life and to be free. If she understood things as they actually are, she wouldn’t sacrifice herself for me. She’d spit in my face. I want to give her a chance. I owe her a chance. Even if you’d told me at that moment that you would leave me if I let her live, I would’ve saved her. It was the right thing to do. My thing. I couldn’t drop her, Curran. I couldn’t.”

“Of course you couldn’t.”

“It’s complicated.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s pretty simple, actually. You didn’t drop her, because that’s not who you are, Kate. Because you will fight for her freedom and her life. Yes, it is a mess and it’s yours to fix. Running away from all of this and pouting by yourself in your old apartment isn’t the best way to deal with it.”

Pouting? I looked at him. “Why are you here? Weren’t you walking away the last time I saw you?”

“I walked away because I needed to clear my head and figure out what the hell was going on. And because I was so angry, I couldn’t see straight. I killed that asshole and I still wanted to keep killing. The rage wouldn’t stop. Then I cooled off, I talked to Adora and the kids, and realized that tonight was the first time I had seen the real you in days. You found another misfit with no place to go and were ready to protect her with everything you had.”

“I didn’t . . .”

“Yeah, you did. You’re like a crazy cat lady, but you collect killers instead of fluffy cats.”

“I don’t collect killers.”

“Yes, you do, and those who aren’t killers turn into killers by the time you’re done. You made Julie into a maniac. That child has more knives on her than a squad of the PAD. Christopher was the only stray who couldn’t fight, and now it turns out he’s a god of terror. Why am I not surprised?”

“I don’t need to listen to this.” I had enough guilt as it was.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “What am I going to do with you? You’re a walking catastrophe.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment!”

“Why? So you can sit here in your solitude and mope some more?”

“I wasn’t moping.”

He grinned at me. “Poor sad Kate, all alone with her sadness . . .”

“Curran, stop while you’re ahead, or I swear, I’ll kick you until you fly right out of this window.”

He pounced on me. I tried to punch him, but it was like trying to wrestle a bear. He gathered me up and pulled me to him.

“Go away!”

“I love you,” he said.

I stopped struggling.

“Where the hell would I go without you, Kate? No matter where I went, you would be there in my head. I would miss you every moment of my life.”

“I would miss you, too.”

He squeezed me to him, his gray eyes laughing. “I brought you something.”

He pulled out a folded piece of lined paper and held it in front of me.

New Plan

Get Awesome Cosmic Powers.

Nuke my dad.

Retire from the land-claiming business.

Below in his handwriting, he’d added several lines.

Get married and start a family.

Have children. Hopefully not screw them up too badly.

Live a life we’re proud of.

He squeezed me to him.

There was nothing about the Guild there. Nothing about power or wealth. It was just him and me.

“Am I enough?” I asked.

“Always,” he said. “Come on, baby. Let’s go home. It’s late.”

“Do we have to go home right now?”

His hold on me shifted. “No, we don’t. But there is a bed here and no children, so if we stay here, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

I looked at him. “How much danger do you think I’m in?”

Little golden sparks flared in his gray eyes. “You have no idea.”

“We’ve been together for two years. I think I have some idea.”

He leaned over me and kissed me, his mouth sealing mine. It was more than a kiss. It felt like a promise and I kissed him back, making promises of my own. His hold on me tightened. His hands gripped me. The kiss broke. I opened my eyes and saw his, focused on me and heated from within by something wild.

I flipped onto my knees on the bed and kissed him, again and again, tasting him, his tongue, his lips, my hands sliding over his hard shoulders, his muscles tensing under my fingers. “I love you,” I whispered.

He buried his face in my neck. His tongue painted heat on my skin. He knew where to kiss, the sensitive spot right below my ear. It sent delicious shivers all the way down my spine.

“More . . .”

He kissed me there again. His teeth nipped the skin, the slight ping of pain a shocking burst of pleasure. I gasped. He pulled me to him, possessive, completely sure I would let him. His hand slid up my back, under the T-shirt. I stretched from the sheer pleasure of it. He unhooked my bra, rocked me back, and then he was on top of me, looking at me from three inches away. “Mine.”

“Always.”

He tugged my T-shirt up. I tried to wriggle out of it and he caught it halfway up my arms, pulling the fabric tight. I couldn’t move my arms. His mouth closed on mine. He kissed me, hungry, so hungry. Heat surged through me. I wanted him so much. I needed him to love me. He kept kissing me, his stubble scraping my neck, his hand caressing my breasts, my side, lifting me toward him. His tongue teased my nipple, pulling a moan out of me. The world shrank to him. I wanted him between my legs.

He let me go and I wrapped my arms over him and pushed him to the side. He rolled on his back and I landed on top of him. I pulled my T-shirt off, threw my bra aside, and pulled his shirt off of him. My Curran . . . How did I ever end up with him? The way he looked at me made me want to strip naked and dance just so he would pounce.

“Your move,” he said, his voice rough.

I kissed his lips, moved down and kissed that chest, stroking him, sliding my hand lower, over the ridges of his abs, down to the hard length of him in his jeans. He drew a sharp breath. I unzipped him and slid my hand up and down his shaft. He groaned, straining, trying to stay where he was.

Any more and it would be torture for us both.

I hopped off of him and pulled off my jeans. When I was done, he grabbed me, already naked and ready to go. His hand caught my hair. His body caged mine. I wrapped my legs around him. I had no patience left. He pushed my legs off him and slid down. His mouth closed on me, his tongue in the perfect spot. Each lick, each touch coaxed pleasure out of my body. He kept going, faster and faster, insistent, the wet heat growing hotter until the climax burst through me. I cried out and forgot about everything as waves of bliss shook me. He was on top of me, thrusting, long and hard, all of him focused on me, all of him mine alone. We were making love and when the second burst of pleasure came, we shared it.

He was right about the danger. I had no idea.

MY EYES SNAPPED open. A noise came from the street, the very particular noise of claws scraping brick outside my window. Next to me Curran lay still, his eyes open. My head was on his chest, his right arm around me.

A clawed hand grabbed the windowsill and a furry, thin creature landed on it and hunched over, its face a nightmarish blend of human and rodent.

Last time a vampire, this time a wererat. There was no peace to be had in my apartment.

The wererat inclined his head. “Former Beassssht Lord. Former Consssshort.”

I knew that voice. I’d met him before; he was Robert’s favorite surveillance agent.

“Hello, Jardin,” Curran said, his voice calm.

“The former Conssshort’s father is away from hisssh bassshe. When he returnssh, he will find only asshess.”

“Jim burned my father’s base?”

Jardin nodded. “You can shee the glow in the easssht.”

Oh, Jim. I knew why he did it. Dali was hurt. She was his world. He wanted to retaliate, the Pack expected him to retaliate, because that’s what a strong shapeshifter leader would do, and so he retaliated. Curran might have done the same.

“I’m to tell you that war issh coming. Thesshe are dangeroush timesh. Friendsh mussht look out for each other if all are to shhhurvive.”

“We heard your message,” Curran said.

Jardin nodded and leapt off the windowsill into the night.

“Robert is scared,” I said.

Curran nodded, his hand stroking my shoulder. “There were probably heavy losses.”

“Jim isn’t going to come to us, is he?”

“No.”

“We still have to protect the Pack. It’s on the land we claimed.”

“Can you block his magic?” Curran asked.

“Erra says I can. I won’t know for sure until I try.”

“Do you trust your aunt?”

I turned over and looked at him. “There are certain moral principles that rule my aunt. They are what her childhood was built on. Honor and love your parents. Guard the land you claim. Have children, teach them, and guide them so the family may live on. My father trampled all of them like a runaway bulldozer. She will make him pay for it. I don’t think she’ll betray us, but if she does, we’ll deal with it.”

“But is she making you stronger?”

“She is. But magic alone won’t be enough, Curran.”

“We’ll need an army,” he said.

“YOU NEED AN army.” My aunt paced back and forth in my kitchen.

It was morning and I was on my first cup of coffee. My head throbbed.

“How can you not have a throne room?” Erra peered at me. “Where do you receive supplicants?”

“Here, or at the office.” I walked over to the counter to pour myself another cup of coffee. Curran had left on a morning run through the woods. He said he needed to burn off some energy after last night. All I wanted to do after last night was sleep for twenty-four hours straight. Where the hell he got his energy I didn’t know, but I sure would’ve loved to have some of it.

Julie sat at the table, watching my aunt with a sour expression on her face, and sipped her coffee.

“Is the office that place where you did a ridiculous dance?”

“Yes.”

“And you have no other dwelling? No palace, no fortress?”

“No.”

“You make me want to stab you.”

“I have that effect on many people.”

“How is it you’re still alive?”

“I’m hard to kill.” I drank my coffee.

“Not that hard.”

“You couldn’t do it.”

“I didn’t really try.”

I looked at her from above the brim of my cup. “You tried. I was there.”

Julie grimaced.

“What’s wrong with you this morning?”

“She doesn’t like my banner.”

Why me? Why? I counted to five in my head.

Curran walked through the kitchen door. “What’s wrong with the banner?”

“It’s blue,” Julie said.

“Why is it blue?” my aunt demanded.

“Because it’s the color of human magic,” Julie said.

“It’s the color of every human mage out there,” Erra snapped. “It’s not fit.”

I raised my hands. “I don’t care about the banner.”

My aunt reached over and smacked me upside the head. Magic exploded against my skull.

“If you do that again, I will drop your knife into a manhole for a few days.”

“Don’t make empty threats,” Erra said. “You won’t survive the next few days without me. When you want to threaten someone, you must mean it.”

“I mean it.”

“You remind me of me.” Erra groaned. “You are the punishment for all my transgressions.”

I smiled at her.

“Always remember you are a queen,” Erra ground out. “Banners are important. They are symbols. When a scared child barely old enough to hold his weapon comes to a field of battle to raise his spear for you, your banner will be the first thing he sees—and the last, as he lies dying, gazing at the sky. Your banner tells him what he is dying for.”

“Well, what banner should I have?”

“You are the only living female within our bloodline. You would inherit In-Shinar from me as I inherited it from my mother, while your father would hold Im-Shinar. The oldest female of our blood always holds In-Shinar and flies its green banner. It is your right.”

“Nobody knows what Shinar is,” Julie said.

“Her father does.”

“Will her father recognize the banner?” Curran said.

“Yes,” Erra said. “He will.”

My father would see the banner of his own family on the other side of the battlefield. It would hammer home the point: he was fighting a civil war.

“Let’s split it,” I said. “Green for Shinar and blue for Atlanta.”

“Green with a blue stripe,” my aunt said.

“Fine,” Julie grumbled.

“Go across the street,” Curran told Julie. “George’s cousin owns a textile shop. See what they can do for us. We need large banners. A lot of large banners.”

“Finally,” Erra said. “Someone who understands. Bring me samples, child. The shade of green must be exact.”

Julie got up, sighed to let us know she was suffering, and left the room.

“This still doesn’t solve the problem of our not having an army,” I said.

“What are Roland’s typical tactics?” Curran asked.

Erra sighed. “He will make a fist out of his troops and punch your Pack fortress with it. Straight-on assault with overwhelming force. Im has been taught tactics and strategy, but he has no interest in it. That’s why he relies on others to lead his armies and only assists when he has to.”

“He would’ve fought Grandmother,” I thought out loud. “She didn’t seem pleased, so it must’ve taken a lot out of him. The last time I saw him, he seemed tired. Then he’ll get home and find a burned-out ruin. That will make him livid. Erra’s right. He will want to crush the Pack with one blow.”

“We need soldiers,” Curran said.

“The Guild won’t fight without a lot of money on the table,” I said. “We can’t afford it.”

“Pay them out of your dowry,” Erra said.

“I have no dowry.”

“Your father will give you a dowry.”

“We are preparing to fight him on the battlefield.”

“Those two things are completely separate,” my aunt said. “No princess of Shinar ever went to her wedding without a dowry.”

“Even if we had the money,” Curran said, “at this point, the mercs aren’t trained to fight as a unit. Give me six months, and we can field them, but right now they would be fodder. We can pick up a few choice fighters from the Guild, but no real numbers to speak of.”

“Fine. Who else do we have?” Erra asked.

“The god of terror and the dark volhv,” I told her.

“The one from yesterday? The handsome one?”

“Yes.” Roman would just love that. He was so disturbed by Erra yesterday, he didn’t even crack any one-liners. He just sat quietly with a freaked-out look on his face when she demanded that we explain the fight to her. I would have to wait for the right moment to drop that one on him.

“That’s good, but it’s not an army. Your half-breed friends will lose this battle if you don’t field troops, because your father will bring enough force to crush them.”

“We can get the Order to help,” I said. “They will defend against Roland.”

“How many soldiers?”

“Twelve,” Curran said. “They are elite troops. It’s not an army.”

“Who can you compel into service?” Erra asked.

“I can’t compel anyone,” I said. “I can ask for help but it would take time and diplomacy.”

The witches might help. The College of Mages would take too long. They spent more time deliberating what to get for lunch than most people spent choosing a house.

“We don’t have time,” Curran said. “Can you strip the People’s vampires from them and run them on the field?”

“Yes. They wouldn’t do anything except run in a horde, but yes.”

“You mean to tell me that Im left his necromancers here? In that gaudy nightmare of a castle?”

“Yes.”

Erra rolled her head up and looked straight at the ceiling. “Gods give me patience. How many?”

“Probably a hundred navigators, give or take thirty depending on how accomplished the journeymen are. Around four hundred vampires.”

At least that’s how many I ballparked the last time I had reviewed them. I made it a habit to pass by the Casino and check on them periodically.

“There is your army.”

“They’re loyal to my father. They are terrified of him.”

“No,” Erra said. “They’re loyal to the blood and the promises it holds. As soon as your Herald gets here and we get the banners, you will go and take control of your army. You will make them obey.”

She was right. We needed the navigators and the undead. We needed them to survive. But Ghastek wouldn’t serve me.

“How? I can threaten them, but they would only turn on me in the fight when it matters most.”

“Why do people follow your father?” Erra asked.

“Because . . .” Landon Nez, the Legatus of the Golden Legion, flashed before my eyes. What was it he said . . . “Because being in his presence is like being in the presence of a god who loves you. When he smiles, it’s like the sun has risen. When he withdraws his affection, it’s like winter.”

“Exactly. You will go into that white crime of a palace, you will show them that you love them above all others, and you will take your legion. I once took a city with five men and a lame goat. If I can do that, you can convince the necromancers to pledge themselves to you. Do this or die.”

I looked at Curran.

“We need troops,” he said. “If you don’t win their loyalty, they’re a wild card. Either they’ll leave the city and reinforce Roland, or he’ll use them as a knife in your back.”

“If you can’t lock them in, you’ll have to kill them,” Erra said.

I looked at her.

“This is war,” my aunt said. “If you fail to convert them, you must kill every vampire in that wretched place.”

“Any active necromancers would be lobotomized.” When a vampire piloted by a navigator died before the navigator severed the connection, the navigator’s mind couldn’t deal with the death.

“Perfect,” Erra said.

“That’s not who I am and that’s not what I do.”

“Then bring them under your banner. You can’t dance around hard decisions anymore. Your father won’t.”

Convert a bunch of Masters of the Dead who think they run the world. Piece of cake.

Adora came down the stairs. She was wearing an old pair of my jeans and a T-shirt. Julie must’ve given her clothes yesterday.

I turned to Curran. “I want to hit the Order first. Will you come with me?”

“Yes.”

I turned to Adora. “I want you to come with me, too.”

An hour later Curran, Adora, and I walked into the Order of Merciful Aid. It looked nothing like I remembered. The gray paint was gone. The carpet, too. The hallway was painted light beige; the floor was sealed concrete. Even Maxine’s desk had undergone a face-lift—brand-new and flanked by a luxuriously ergonomic office chair. The old prim secretary smiled at me.

“We’re here to see the knight-protector.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

We walked into Nick’s office. When Ted Moynohan occupied it, it was a dark cave decorated with all things Texas. Gone were the burgundy drapes, the massive desk of cherry wood and samples of barbed wire on the wall. Now it was a wide, well-lit space, with plants and pale, thin curtains. Nick sat behind a desk of blond wood. He raised his head as we approached.

“Yes?”

“This is Knight-protector Nick Feldman,” I told Adora. “He runs the Order’s Atlanta chapter. Do you know what the Order is?”

She nodded.

“Nick worked undercover in Hugh d’Ambray’s inner circle for two years.”

I turned to Nick.

“This is Adora. She is sahanu.”

He sat up straighter. The name made an impression.

I had thought the best way was to take baby steps. I was wrong. If I didn’t clear things up now, she would keep sacrificing herself for my sake.

I took a deep breath and looked Nick in the eye. “I’d like you to explain to her exactly what my father and I are.”

Nick smiled, and there was not a shred of humor in that grin.