Magic Breaks

9

THE ORDER HAD remodeled the Vault after my aunt scorched the place. The massive door was gone. Shields and weapons still hung on three walls, but the fourth was now lined with loup cages, the bars made of silver and steel alloy two inches thick. The Order had spared no expense and I was getting a lovely view of the bars from the wrong side.

I paced back and forth, while Robert lay next to me, stretched out on the floor of the cage, resting to let his body heal. If he overextended himself, the Lyc-V would shut him down for repairs and he wanted to stay conscious.

My side still hurt, and my ribs reminded me once in a while that they were there.

To the right, separated from my and Robert’s cell by bars, Derek and Desandra sprawled in their own cage asleep under blankets. The Order’s medmage, a tall man with a long braid of brown hair who went by Steinlein, had examined them and declared there was nothing he could do. The toxin was working its way through their systems and they would bounce back or they wouldn’t. He seemed to think they would, because once they had turned human, their wounds had closed, which was a good sign.

Through the bars, I could see Ascanio. He lay limp on a table in the open. They had chained his ankles and his wrists. The chains weren’t silver, but they were thick enough to hold him. Steinlein chanted over him, rocking back and forth. I couldn’t tell if his chanting was doing anything. The boy didn’t look any better.

I felt so hollow, as if someone had gutted me. I didn’t know about whom to worry more, Ascanio dying or Derek and Desandra barely breathing.

The redheaded female knight with the buzz cut—Steinlein had called her Diana—watched us. Next to her a lean, muscular knight in his late twenties was giving me his version of a hard stare. He was carrying a tactical sword. A long scar crossed his face from his short blond hair to his chin. They both seemed convinced that if one of them looked away for a second, I’d escape from the locked cage and explode the Order.

“You keep staring, you’ll set me on fire,” I told them.

Neither of them answered. Great.

Mauro stepped into the vault.

“Did you call the Pack?” I asked him

“The phones are out,” he said.

Can I just fucking catch a break?

“But I sent a courier to Atlanta Medical, asking for assistance,” Mauro said. “They’ve got a new satellite office about four miles from here.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It won’t help,” Steinlein said. “His chest and everything inside it is crushed. If he were weaker, he would be dead already. I’m only delaying the inevitable.”

Ascanio trusted me. He trusted me and I had let him come with me. He had no fear, because he was young and he thought he was immortal and because he counted on me keeping him alive. I couldn’t lose him. “If you’re done, chain me next to him, and I’ll keep chanting.”

The medmage turned to me. “I didn’t say I was giving up. I’m just telling you that there’s no light at the end of this tunnel. You have a couple of hours to come to terms with it.”

Doolittle would’ve ripped a new hole somewhere in him for his bedside manner. If he hadn’t been holding Ascanio’s life in his hands, I’d have told him exactly what I thought about it.

“We don’t have a couple of hours,” Robert said, his eyes still closed. “D’Ambray is coming.”

And soon, too. We’d been inside the chapterhouse for about fifteen minutes. Everything I had read about the wendigo said they regenerated in anywhere from five minutes to half an hour, depending on the magnitude of the magic wave. We hadn’t had the time to cut it into little pieces and then burn them. As soon as his wendigo got on its feet, Hugh would come. I had taunted him, and my ward had kicked his ass. He wouldn’t let it go.

“D’Ambray would be an idiot to attack the Order,” Diana said.

“We’ve got backup coming in,” Mauro said. “I’ve talked to the knight-protector. Ted reached out to the Paranormal Activity Division and the National Guard.”

Neither the PAD nor the National Guard would get here in time.

“We’ve fought one of them before,” Mauro said. “It was me, Kate, and Nash, and we all lived through it.”

We had lived through it, because I was one of “them.” Pointing that out wasn’t in my best interests. “Let me out. I’ll fight with you.”

“Sorry, Kate.” Mauro grimaced. “Orders are orders.”

“Kate,” Maxine’s voice said in my head.

“Yes?”

“I’m being evacuated out of the office. I’m instructed to stay within my range so I can make a full report of what happens.”

Ted was expecting trouble.

“Thank you for your help,” I whispered. “I truly appreciate it.”

“I know, dear. I’m very sorry you left. It hasn’t been the same without you and Andrea.”

Heavy steps came down the stairs and Ted Moynohan walked into the room. The knight-protector had aged since I last saw him. He’d been in his early fifties when we met. Now he seemed closer to sixty. He was built thick and had gotten thicker. The layer of fat was deceiving—there was hard, powerful muscle underneath—and Ted didn’t look soft. He looked like a heavyweight fighter who had let himself go a bit. He wore blue jeans, a gray shirt, cowboy boots, and a belt with a buckle that had illusions of grandeur. A black cowboy hat sat on his head, and if it got real hot, he could shelter a gaggle of street orphans in its shade.

Ted stopped by my cage and peered at me, his square jaw locked. I looked back. He would do me no favors and I expected none.

“Here you are in a cage, Daniels. I always knew you’d end up in one.”

I didn’t answer. If he got it all off his chest, I’d have a better chance of making him understand what was coming.

“You put the Consort of the Pack in a cage,” Robert said.

“I don’t see a consort. I see the same smart-mouthed merc with a sharp sword, except she’s dressed better now. Mercs have no loyalty and this one has no brains. She’ll get you killed just like that kid over there. You should’ve found yourself someone smarter to follow.”

“D’Ambray is coming,” I said. “He has a detachment of Iron Dogs and at least one wendigo with him. He also has access to the entirety of the People’s stable of vampires. He wants to bring down the Pack and he has decided that killing me is the way to do it.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but close enough. “He’s pissed off. If you let me go, d’Ambray will follow me.”

“Mm-hm,” Ted said.

“He has superior numbers and he’s very determined. You don’t have the manpower to oppose him. Let me out.” I just needed them to keep Ascanio, Derek, and Desandra safe. That’s all. Robert and I could go and draw Hugh off with us.

Ted shook his head. “No. This is a human fight and you’ve picked the wrong side. Live with your choices.”

Stubborn bastard. “You have no authority to detain me.”

“Yes, I do. When you petitioned the Order for protection, they gave us sweeping power to guard you in the way we see fit. Enjoy being guarded, Daniels.”

Argh. Listen to me, you dense asshole. “They will breach your defenses. You’re throwing your people away. Hugh isn’t some Joe Blow off the street, he’s the preceptor of the Order of Iron Dogs. He has Uath with him. She likes to skin people alive.”

Ted smiled.

He wanted it.

The crazy sonovabitch actually wanted a shot at Hugh d’Ambray. As long as the Order held us, there was a chance that Hugh would pick a fight, and everything I had just said only confirmed Ted’s decision to keep us here. My mind wrestled with it and I clamped my mouth shut.

Why? What could he possibly gain by this? My aunt had left this building a smoking wreck, and she hadn’t even done it in person. She’d used a flesh golem to do it. Ted was a bigot, but he wasn’t an idiot. He had to know there was a chance Hugh would break through the Order’s defenses. The Iron Dogs were the elite of the elite, and according to Mauro, his knights, who’d be outnumbered two to one, weren’t exactly the Order’s cream of the crop.

Why risk his people? Was it some sort of last-minute attempt at some glory before he died?

I had to change my strategy and fast. I scraped my brain for the contents of the Order’s Charter. I learned slowly, but once I managed to chisel information into my brain, it stayed there.

“Under article one point seven, a petition is valid only when it’s been signed by the petitioner after the terms and conditions of the petition have been explained to said petitioner. Show me that signature.”

Ted took a paper off the desk and raised it. Robert Lonesco. Got you.

Robert shrugged. “It was that or they wouldn’t let us in.”

“Article one point twelve, a group petition may be filed by an individual, provided said individual has been selected by the group to act as its representative. Robert, have you been selected to act as our representative?”

The alpha rat smiled. “No.”

The knight with the scar raised his eyebrows. He knew where I was going with this and he knew I was right.

“To the best of your knowledge, who has the right to represent our group?”

“You do, Consort,” Robert said.

I looked at Ted. “This petition is invalid. You are detaining us illegally. Release us now.”

Magic crackled through the building, followed by a hair-raising desperate wail. Hugh’s wendigo had just tested the strength of the wards.

“She’s right,” the knight with the scar said. “We have no right to hold them.”

Ted looked at him. “This is D-day, Towers. This is what you’ve trained for.” His voice rose. “This is what we all trained for. This is important. We make a stand today. Can I count on you?”

Muscles played on Towers’s jaw. “Yes.”

“Good. We’ll continue this talk after we’re done.” Ted moved to the weapon rack and picked up a mace. Diana began to chant under her breath.

“Let us out!” I snarled.

Ted ignored me. “Diana, Towers, Mauro, with me.” He pointed at the medmage. “Steinlein, back us up.”

“Ted, listen to me, you stupid sonovabitch! Maybe you want to go out in a blaze of glory, but—”

They moved out. Steinlein, the medmage with the long braid, followed them. “Sorry.”

No. No, damn it. “Wait! The boy will die!”

“I’m sorry, but he’s dead anyway.” The knight left the room.

The wendigo’s enraged howl erupted. The building shook.

• • •

I TOUCHED THE bars. Magic surged through me in a flash of agony. Warded. Ascanio was dying, Hugh was breaking in, and we were trapped in a cage. Like sitting ducks. Well, this was going well.

I had a lock pick on my belt, but the knights had taken my belt, my jacket, and my sword.

Above us something shuddered with rhythmic, loud thuds, as if someone were hitting the building with an enormous hammer.

Robert rolled to his feet, hunched over by the lock, and tried to pass his hand between the bars. Magic nipped at his claws. He grimaced, baring vicious teeth, and tried to touch the lock. His forearm grazed the bars. He jerked his arm back. A gray scar crossed his skin, where the silver had killed Lyc-V.

Robert clawed at the floor of the cage, pried a board open, and dropped it back down. “Silver and steel.”

Same with the ceiling. We weren’t going anywhere. If I used a power word, it would bounce off the defensive spell protecting the bars and backfire at me. I had tried it in a warded cell under other circumstances and the pain left me crippled for an hour.

The pounding was getting louder.

I turned to Robert. “If Hugh gets through and you get a chance to run, I need you to leave us and run. Somebody has to tell the Pack what happened.”

Robert gave me a small smile. “If Hugh gets through, it’s unlikely I’ll survive.”

Magic slapped me with an invisible hand. I reeled.

“What?” Robert asked.

“Someone just broke the Order’s main ward.”

Something tore down the stairs and Hugh burst into the room. Blood slicked his clothes and cloak, but they were intact. None of it was his own. Too bad. A woman could hope.

He saw me and paused. “In a cage.”

Yeah, yeah.

Hugh shook his head. “How the fuck did you let yourself be put in a cage?”

He sounded offended on my behalf. Well, wasn’t that sweet? “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. My ears are still ringing from that big boom your head made when it hit the stairs. Is your brain okay? Because your skull sounded hollow.”

Behind him Nick walked through the door. The crusader stared at each of us in turn, his eyes cold. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Hugh had turned him.

Hugh strolled around the room, paused by Ascanio’s prone body, and grimaced. “I hate amateurs.”

I wanted to snap at him to leave the kid alone and caught myself. Anything I prized and anyone I cared about, Hugh would use against me. He was savoring the moment.

Hugh walked to the back of the room, with Nick at his heels, turned, and faced the entrance. “Don’t interfere.”

Nick nodded and leaned against the far wall.

Diana burst into the room, her face and arms smudged with soot. Towers, the one with the scar, was only a step behind. A gash tore his chest from left to right. Bloody but shallow.

“Is this it?” Hugh asked.

The two knights stared at Hugh.

Towers jerked a crossbow up.

Hugh said something. Magic popped like a huge balloon exploding. A power word. The cages shook. Pieces of the crossbow clattered on the stone floor.

“You have a problem.” Hugh shrugged off his cloak and hung it on a weapon hook in the wall. “You know who I am. You know what I can do. I’m here for her.” He nodded at me. “I won’t leave without her. I won’t let you shoot me. You could try locking me in, but your walls can’t hold me. And containment isn’t really what you had in mind, is it?”

Hugh unsheathed a gladius. A simple, ancient sword, with a straight double-edged blade, twenty-five and a quarter inches long, two and a quarter inches wide, weighing barely two pounds. Simple and brutal. The sword that carved the Roman Empire out of Europe.

Diana hunched her shoulders, whispering under her breath. Towers eyed him warily.

Above us the wendigo screamed again. Something thumped, followed by hoarse human cries.

Hugh hefted the gladius and turned the blade, warming up his wrist. Towers’s eyes narrowed. Hugh held the sword as if it were an extension of him, as if it had no weight. He was intimately familiar with it. He must’ve used it so much for so long that if he closed his eyes, he could probably reach out and touch its tip, because he knew exactly where the blade ended. I knew he could, because even in absolute darkness I knew exactly how long Slayer’s blade was.

“Get me out of this cage,” I growled.

“Shhh,” Hugh said. His eyes were hard. “Just watch.”

He shrugged, stretching, and nodded to the knights. “If you want me, you’ll have to come and get me.”

“Don’t,” I said. “He’ll kill you.”

Diana pulled a slender saber out. She held it like she knew what she was doing, but Hugh was in a class of his own. Fire dashed from Diana’s hand onto the blade, coating the saber in flames.

“A flaming sword.” Hugh shook his head. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

“Wait,” Towers said.

Diana shot forward, bringing her saber up for a thrust. It was a good thrust, well aimed and fast. Hugh met her halfway. His gladius slipped into her side almost on its own. He spun her about, clamped her to him, her back against his chest, and held the blade covered with her blood to her throat. It took less than a second.

Argh. I grabbed the bars. Magic burned me and I let go.

“Tell me, Kate,” he said, his voice casual. “When Lennart is on top of you and you’re waiting for him to finish, do you ever think of me? Just to spice things up.”

Diana rasped, gasping for breath. Her side bled as her body pumped her lifeblood out of the wound.

“No,” I ground through my teeth. “But when I feel down, I picture killing you and it cheers me right up. It makes me giggle.”

Hugh laughed and jerked Diana up, her temple pressed against his cheek. “See that woman you put in the cage?”

Diana’s breath came out in hoarse gasps.

“Ask her for your life,” Hugh said.

“You fucking bastard.” When I got out of here, I would cut pieces off him until he stopped moving.

“Ask her nice,” Hugh repeated. “If she gives you your life back, I’ll let you go.”

“You made your point. I don’t want her to die,” I said.

“Ask her,” Hugh said.

Diana’s lips moved. “Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.” Hugh sliced her throat and stepped back. The female knight froze, upright, eyes opened wide. Dark blood gushed from her throat. Her eyes rolled up and she stumbled and fell. Her blood spread in a wide puddle on the floor.

Nick’s eyes were empty. He looked at the blood, seemingly untroubled by it. He might as well have been dead.

“A waste.” Hugh flicked the blood off his sword.

Towers moved forward, cautious. He moved like a spooked cat, light on his toes and jumpy.

Had everyone gone crazy today? “What are you doing? Just shoot this asshole! He can’t keep using power words. He’ll run out of juice before you run out of crossbow bolts.”

“Swordsman, huh.” Hugh put the gladius on the examination table behind him. “Look, Ma, no sword.”

Towers darted at him and thrust, lightning-fast. Hugh leaned out of the way just enough for the blade to miss, grabbed Towers’s wrist, leaned back, and hammered a side kick into the knight’s ribs, just above his right hip. The kick didn’t just land, it exploded. Towers stumbled back, bending over his injured side.

Hugh smiled and motioned him over. “Come on.”

Towers darted in and slashed left to right, aiming for Hugh’s throat. Too slow; I’d lean back.

Hugh leaned back and the blade grazed his left shoulder.

Towers reversed his swing and tried to smash the pommel of the sword into Hugh’s face, leaving his midsection wide open. You could drive a bloody cart through that opening.

Hugh dodged, grabbed his gladius from the exam table, and cut at Towers. The first blow opened the knight’s stomach. Before he had a chance to reel, Hugh sank a sharp precise thrust to the knight’s side, right between the ribs into the liver.

Towers dropped to his knees, cradling his guts. Hugh grabbed his hair. “Ask her for your life.”

“I want him to live,” I ground out.

“He has to ask,” Hugh told me.

Towers jerked a knife from his belt and buried it in Hugh’s thigh.

“I guess we’ve got ourselves a no.” Hugh stabbed his gladius into the knight’s chest.

Towers gurgled and sagged to the floor.

I spun in the cage, helpless. He kept killing them and they kept dying and I could only watch. Rage boiled inside me. “Why are you doing this?”

Hugh flicked the blood off his sword. “You wanted me to show you something.”

“Well, so far all I’ve seen is you killing the Order’s second-best. Pick on someone your own size.”

“All in good time.” Hugh smiled at me, his eyes cold.

Where the hell were the PAD and the National Guard? How long did it take them to mobilize?

“Like it or not,” he said, “you’re still his daughter. Run from it, spit on it, that’s your choice. Those of the blood can insult the blood. Nobody else. I won’t allow it.”

I finally understood. This wasn’t just about me; this was about the Order dragging my name through the mud after I left and then caging me here now. This wasn’t just elimination. This was punishment. He would kill every knight in the chapter but not before he made all of them submit to me and beg me for their lives.

I had to do something.

The ward between the bars of the cage wasn’t solid. It hurt like hell when I thrust my hand through it, but I could thrust it. I turned my back to Hugh and clawed the cut on my left forearm. Pain lanced me. Crimson washed my skin, the magic in it alive and ready. I pulled it, shaping it with my will into a five-inch-long spike. It was long and sharp and an eye was such a soft target, with the brain right behind it. I just had to get him close to the cage.

“You’re going to want to see this next part,” Hugh said. “I’m just getting started. Or is it too much for you?”

I turned to Hugh. “I keep thinking about the fire that destroyed your castle. Nobody could’ve lived through that. What if you aren’t even you?”

Hugh stepped closer to the cage.

“What if my father has a closet full of Hughs, and every time Curran and I break one, he just pulls another copy out?”

Hugh stepped over Towers’s body and slowly, deliberately walked over to the bars. Just out of striking range. All I needed was another two or three inches.

“I once watched a movie where a man made clones of himself,” I told him. “Each clone was dumber than the previous one. I think that actually might be true. You’ve attacked the Order. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve seen you do yet.”

Hugh leaned forward. His blue eyes fixed on me, hard and predatory. That’s right, show me how big and bad you are. Come on. Tell me all about it. Come closer. Closer.

“Tell me, what’s your number, clone-Hugh?”

“You want to know how I survived? He stole a phoenix egg and put me inside it. For two months I soaked in it, growing new skin and a new spine, and thought of what I would do to Lennart and you when I got out.” Hugh leaned closer. Another inch and we’d be in business. “And let me tell you, the look on your face when you watch them die makes it all worth it.”

The stairs shuddered under rapid steps. Hugh turned.

No! Argh, almost had him.

Four people charged into the room: a dark-haired female knight I didn’t know, Ted Moynohan, the medmage Steinlein, and in front of them all, a slender man with a bald head and Celtic-blue war paint tattooed on his face. Richter. The Order’s resident psychopath.

Great. More people for him to kill.

“The knight-protector.” Hugh swung his sword in a lazy circle, warming up his wrist. “Finally. And here I thought you’d just let me wreck your house.”

“Open the cage and I’ll take him apart,” I said. I had beaten him once. I could do it again.

Hugh chuckled. “Come on, Kate. Don’t embarrass them. They’re knights. Time someone tested them.”

Ted looked at the two prone bodies on the floor around him and smiled. His people were dead and he smiled.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Ted wanted a massacre. He was on his way out, either to be disgraced or to retire, and he must’ve wanted it to count. He must’ve decided to go out in a blaze of glory. But his death alone wouldn’t be enough. If Hugh killed him, the Order might find a way to overlook it, but if Roland’s warlord slaughtered the entire chapter, the knights would do everything in their power to hunt him down. It had to be brutal, and bloody, and vicious, so those who died wouldn’t be just fallen knights or victims, they would become martyrs.

Hugh wanted to kill all of them. Ted wanted all of them to die. He wanted his own Alamo. The knights would give their lives, every single one of them, after a dramatic final standoff, and Maxine would bear witness to all of it. We were watching the start of the war between Roland and the Order.

Nothing I could do or say would make any difference. I sank to the floor next to Robert. Across the room Nick looked at me, his face pale like the snow outside. Our gazes met. He understood and he would watch it all just like me and Robert.

Ted pointed at Hugh. “Get him.”

• • •

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.