Magic Triumphs

CHAPTER 15

I KNEW MY aunt had recovered, because she exploded into our bedroom and roared, “The child is missing!”

I sat bolt upright on the bed. Curran groaned. I realized I was naked and pulled a blanket over my chest.

“Knocking,” I told her. “Privacy.”

She glared at us. “This is no time to have sex! Your son is missing! I can’t feel him.”

Kill me, somebody. “He isn’t missing. He’s across the street with his grandmother. You can’t feel him because I strengthened the ward on George’s house to mask his presence.”

She squinted at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I went there to check on him late last night and I saw him sleeping. Grendel is with him. There are enough werebears in that house to hold off an army.”

Erra considered it. “Very well. Also, your father’s attack dog, what’s his name? Hugh. Hugh and some blond woman are in a car in your driveway, talking.”

She turned and swept down the hallway, right past the remnants of the door she’d broken.

I turned over and bumped my head on Curran’s chest a few times. “Why me?”

“I don’t know.” He stroked my back. “I suppose we need to get dressed.”

“Ugh.”

“If I have to murder Hugh, I don’t want to do it naked,” he said. “It would be weird.”

“If you change into warrior form, you will be naked.”

“That’s different.”

I got myself dressed, forced myself to brush my teeth, and then I made myself go downstairs, open the door, and walk down the driveway to a blue SUV and knock on the window.

Elara rolled the window down. Hugh looked at me from the driver’s seat.

“Hi,” I said.

“We’re having a private argument,” Hugh said. “Do you mind?”

I pictured myself reaching past Elara and punching him in the jaw. Nope, didn’t have the reach.

“In my driveway?”

“Yes.”

A little smile tugged at Elara’s lips.

“Well, when you’re done with your argument, you’re welcome to come in for some breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Elara said.

Hugh reached over her and rolled the window up.

I’d just invited Hugh d’Ambray for breakfast. The world was going crazy. Nothing left to do but hold on and yell “Wheee!” at strategic moments.

I went back to the house. I should’ve punched him in the face while he was rolling the window up. Shoot.

Curran descended the stairs. “What do they want?”

“They’re having a private argument. I invited them to breakfast.”

He shrugged in a fatalistic way.

I went in the kitchen and checked the plate with smoked meat. It was still there. It was good that Grendel wasn’t here, or he would’ve cleaned the dishes for us overnight. He was considerate like that.

I took eggs out of the refrigerator.

“What made you change your mind?” Curran asked, setting a pan on the stove.

“About Hugh?”

“Yes.”

I cracked some eggs into a bowl, added a spoon of sugar, and whipped them into froth. “Christopher thinks that my father used the blood bond to impose his will on Hugh.”

“I agree,” Curran said.

“Why?”

“Because your father is a control freak, and he doesn’t like leaving things to chance. If it can be done, he would’ve done it. I still want to kill Hugh.”

“I know. Christopher forgave Hugh because he believes that if he can’t forgive Hugh, he himself can’t be forgiven.” I added milk to the mixture, and then flour.

“So you forgave him for Christopher?” Curran lifted the pan to roll a piece of smoked fat all around it.

“No. I haven’t forgiven him anything, and if I do, it won’t be for Christopher. It will be for me. I don’t want to drag the weight around. But for now, I want to know why he is here. There has to be a reason and it’s not trade agreements for herb sales.”

“Do I have to forgive him?” he asked.

“No.”

“Oh good. Because I was worried there for a second.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

Someone knocked on the front door.

“It’s open!” I called. I’d left it unlocked and opened the ward, too. I knew Hugh was human. Regular wards wouldn’t stop him, and he’d broken my blood ward once, which took him out of commission for a few minutes. But Elara was another story. Something about her didn’t feel quite right.

Hugh opened the door and held it for his wife. She walked in and entered the kitchen. Another dress, this one a pale lavender. Her hair, braided and pinned on her head, was so light, it almost seemed to glow. There was something slightly regal about Elara. Something magic too, but she kept it hidden deep inside, and if I tried to pry, she’d feel it. What the heck was she?

Hugh leaned against the wall, big, dark, the happy-to-kill-you psychopath I remembered. I handed him a stack of plates. “Make yourself useful.”

He winked at me.

I swiped a knife off the island and threw it. It sprouted from the wall an inch from his nose. “You’ll need cutlery,” I told him. “Second drawer on your right.”

“Here, I’ll help.” Elara pulled the drawer open and began extracting forks and knives.

A few minutes later the four of us sat around the breakfast table, with a plate full of golden round pancakes and a platter of smoked meat between us, and fried eggs divvied up on our plates. We drank coffee. Elara drank tea.

We began eating.

“Anything you want to know?” Hugh asked.

“How good are Neig’s human fighters?” Curran asked.

Hugh grimaced. “Good. There is a handful of Iron Dogs who can take them one-on-one, but we’ve had the most success with a small combat team approach.”

“You jump them three or four at a time?” Curran asked.

“Yep. The armor is a problem. It’s a strong alloy, and we’ve had a devil of a time cutting them out of it.”

“Is it crushable?”

“You or a werebear, maybe,” Hugh said. “For a human, it takes a mace. Unfortunately, they’re lively in that armor.”

“What about the yeddimur?” Curran asked.

“The beasts?” Elara asked. “Each soldier can control up to five. They’re not slaves, they are doglike. Very cruel. They feed on what they kill.”

“Are they contagious?” Curran asked.

She frowned. “Not that we’ve noticed, and we’ve had very close contact.”

A whisper of magic escaped her and fluttered past me, ghostly and cold. I cut a small piece of my egg and speared it with a fork. She was something, all right.

“What about this army?” Curran asked. “Any idea how large it is?”

Hugh shook his head. “We fought his vanguard, maybe three hundred men and about a thousand beasts. I can tell you that they went through Nez’s forces like a knife through butter.”

Wait, what?

“Landon Nez?” Curran asked. “The Legatus of the Golden Legion? How did they get involved?”

“They were besieging us at the time,” Elara said.

“Did Nez die?” my husband asked.

“No,” Hugh said, and his face told me exactly how happy he was about it. “But the Legion had to withdraw.”

“We need to figure out what Neig’s got.” Curran drummed his fingers on the table.

“Unless he invites one of us over, I don’t see how that would be possible,” Hugh said. “We do know a few things. His people can’t be subverted. I have my doubts that they are even people anymore. He attacks small settlements where he knows he will take minimal losses. Dogs hate him and everything that smells of him, which includes his soldiers and the yeddimur. The shapeshifters among my people report having the same urge to kill them as they do with loups.”

“There are shapeshifters among your people?” Curran asked.

“I discriminate on the basis of ability, not origin. You know that, Lennart.”

“Really?” Curran frowned. “You might need to discriminate harder then, because I don’t remember them being that difficult to kill. Didn’t you kill one, honey?” He glanced at me. “A centurion, too. Was it hard?”

Elara smiled at me. “The pancakes are delicious.”

“Anytime you want a repeat of that rendezvous you and I had on the roof, you let me know,” Hugh said.

I set my mug on the table a little too hard, and it made a thud. The two men looked at me. “Honestly, Hugh, why the fuck are you here?”

“I told you,” he said. “I have a castle to protect. With a town attached to it. A thousand civilians: bakers, smiths, potion brewers. Kids. Elderly. We are not set up for a long-term siege. If Neig goes through you, he will swing toward us. He has a score to settle.”

Elara put down her fork. “My husband has trouble communicating his feelings, so I may have to translate for him. He feels guilt. He remembers everything he has done, the people he killed, and the lives he ruined. It gnaws at him and it’s ripping him apart. There are times he doesn’t sleep for several days. He works himself to exhaustion trying to protect us, and he blames himself for every death and injury. He left our castle and our people and came here, because you need him. You are in critical danger. He can’t change the past, but he can alter the future, and if you let him, he will do everything in his power to help. He isn’t trying to win your forgiveness. He is here to atone, because it’s the right thing to do. I’m here because I love him. This is very difficult for him and I didn’t want him to face it alone.”

The table fell quiet.

I looked at Hugh. He looked back at me. There was a sharp pain in his eyes. My father had done his damage, tossed him away like garbage, yet here he was, trying to right lifetimes of wrong, and somehow I was the key to it. I felt it. It was like a live wire connecting us.

“I’m sorry about Mishmar,” he said. “I’m sorry about the knights, the castle, all of it.”

Sitting here was excruciating. I wanted to fall through the floor.

Silence stretched.

If I slammed the door in his face now, I would be just like my father. Hugh was the closest thing to a brother I had. We were both raised by Voron under Roland’s shadow. We were both trained to kill and expected to obey without question. We both would’ve done anything for our “father’s” approval. We were both found wanting by Roland, each of us a disappointment. He had no use for us unless we served him.

If it weren’t for my mother’s sacrifice, I would be Hugh now, sitting here, waiting for a crumb of kindness from someone I’d hurt.

The silence was unbearable now.

“I have a comatose dragon in my basement,” I said. “He fought Neig and he might know something that can help us. We’ve been trying to bring him back to life, but nothing has worked. Could you please take a look?”

Hugh nodded. “I can.”

“Thank you.” I got up. “I’ll show you where he is.”

HUGH PONDERED YU Fong. Adora watched him from her chair as if he were a rabid dog.

“I’ll have to cut him open,” Hugh said. “There is something lodged inside him.”

“Can you keep him alive?” I asked.

“Yes,” Hugh said.

“You said the other doctor said it couldn’t be done,” Adora said.

“The other doctor isn’t Hugh,” Elara told her. “If my husband says he can heal him, he means it.”

Hugh turned to me.

He could be working with Neig against me. He could be working for my father. He could kill Yu Fong and then laugh at me.

Behind Hugh, Curran leaned against the wall, his gray eyes clear and calm. He didn’t seem to be worried.

Either I trusted Hugh, or I didn’t.

“Go ahead,” I said.

He took a knife from his belt. A dense blue light flared around Hugh and spilled onto Yu Fong, binding them together. Hugh leaned forward and split Yu Fong’s stomach from chest to groin. A sour stench filled the room. Hugh thrust his hand into the wound and drew something bloody out. He dropped it and I caught it before it hit the floor. My fingers closed around blood-slicked bone. An ivory fragment about the length of my forearm, two inches at its widest point.

“What is that?” Adora leaned forward.

“A tooth,” Curran said. “A piece of one anyway.”

“Neig’s tooth?” I thought out loud.

“It would have to be.”

A tremor shook Yu Fong’s body. A bead of sweat broke out on Hugh’s forehead. The glow around him brightened.

“I think we should go,” I murmured.

“I’m staying,” Adora declared.

“Don’t disturb him,” I told her.

We went upstairs single file, first Curran, then Elara, then me. In the kitchen, Elara turned to me. “Thank you for giving him a way to help.”

“Oh, he’ll do a lot more than that,” Curran said. “You’re right. We’re desperate. We will take him and the Iron Dogs.”

“You do know he is a bastard?” I asked Elara.

She tilted her chin up slightly. “I’ve walked through his mind. He is my bastard.”

“Have the witches spoken to you?” I asked.

“Yes. You want to use me as the focus to place your father into eternal sleep. What happens if we fail?”

“We’ll go to Plan B,” I told her.

“And that would be?”

“I’ll kill my father or die trying, which will amount to the same thing.”

Elara studied me. “Do you have the resolve?”

“Trust me,” Curran said, his eyes dark. “Resolve isn’t a problem.”

“We have a more pressing issue. Eventually the Pack will track Hugh down to our house, and Raphael will show up howling for blood. Raphael is a bouda. Hugh’s centurion killed his mother. I killed the centurion, but Raphael isn’t exactly going to bother with the details. He’ll see Hugh and then it will be a bloodbath.”

“We already settled that,” Elara said.

“You did?” Curran asked.

“Yes. Raphael is the dark-haired one in leather?”

“Looks like sex on a stick,” I told her.

“Yes. With the eyes.” She waved her fingers to imitate fluttering eyelashes.

“That’s him.”

Curran looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

“He came to see us last fall,” Elara said. “He has a short blond wife.”

What? “Did you talk to her?”

“I did.”

“Excuse me.” I got up, walked to the phone, and dialed the Bouda House. A chirpy bouda answered. “Clan Bouda’s residence.”

“Please tell the alpha that her former best friend is calling.”

“She warned us you would call.”

There was a click and then Andrea’s voice came on the line. “Hey.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Nope, I didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you were pregnant at the time and had enough shit to deal with.”

I forced the words out. “Why didn’t you tell me after?”

“Because I watched Hugh let Raphael cut him to ribbons. If I’d told you, you’d have dropped everything and went there too, and then Hugh would’ve let you kill him, and then you’d be filled with self-loathing and I’d have to take care of your mopey ass. I have a clan to run, a husband to satisfy, and a daughter to take care of. Call me when you cool off.”

She hung up.

Society frowned on killing your best friend. In this case, it would just have to make an exception.

HALF AN HOUR later Hugh staggered out of the basement, his face haggard. He looked like he was about to fall over, but he made it to his chair in the kitchen and drank his cold coffee like it was water. I let him finish.

“He’ll live,” Hugh said. “He’ll sleep for a couple more hours, then he should be fine.”

“Do you want to lie down?” Elara asked him.

He shook his head. “I could use more meat.”

I brought the whole platter and set it in front of him. He took a pancake, stuffed meat into it, and rolled it up.

Curran got up and moved to the front door. I followed.

“What is it?”

“A Pack vehicle.”

Just as predicted. “I’m going to get my sword. If it’s Raphael looking for seconds, please don’t let him in the house.”

“It’s not Raphael,” Curran said.

The horrible racket of an enchanted water engine cut the silence, growing louder and louder, until the familiar Pack van shot down the street past us. The van screeched to a stop, reversed, and expertly pulled into our driveway. The doors swung open. Dali jumped out, took out a wheelchair, and lowered Doolittle into it. Her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose, and she moved with jerky urgency. She grabbed a wooden box, placed it on Doolittle’s lap, and wheeled him to our doors as if she were about to storm a castle.

What the heck was that? Some cure for Yu Fong?

“Where is he?”

“Yu Fong is in the basement. He—”

“Not him.” Dali pushed past me, her gaze locked on Hugh’s broad back. “Him.”

I glanced at Curran. She was always impulsive, but this was taking it to a new level. He shook his head and we followed them into the kitchen.

“Do people just walk into your house like they own the place?” Hugh asked Curran.

“You have no idea,” Curran told him.

Dali set the box on the table in front of Hugh. “I need to know what this is.”

“I’m eating,” he said.

I took my coffee cup off the table and moved out of the way. This should be interesting.

Dali’s eyes lit up. “You listen to me—”

“You barged into the house of the closest person I have to a sister and you interrupted my breakfast.”

Dali reached to grab him. Elara’s fingers brushed her. Dali jerked back, a look of pure horror on her face.

“If you touch my husband again, I’ll eat your soul, tiger,” Elara said, and drank her cold tea.

“Aww, honey.” Hugh smiled at her. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Nobody is eating anybody’s soul,” I said.

Curran looked into Dali’s eyes and said in a calm, measured voice laced with command, “Sit.”

It was his Beast Lord voice. Very difficult to disobey. I still managed, but Dali had grown up in the Pack, and old habits died hard. She dropped into the nearest chair.

“Take a deep breath.”

Dali sucked the air in and let it out slowly.

“Why are you in my house?” he asked her.

Dali took another deep breath. Her bottom lip trembled, her composure broke, and she clamped her hands over her face. There was no sound. Just hands over her face and shudders. Poor Dali.

Curran crouched by her and gently pried the glasses from under her fingers. I got a handkerchief and brought it over. Curran took it from me and offered it to Dali. She grabbed it and pressed her face into it. He wrapped his arms around her. Her shoulders shook.

I turned to Doolittle. “What’s going on?”

He sighed. “She’s been under a great deal of stress.”

Dali said something through her hands.

“What is it?” Curran asked gently.

She said it again.

“We can’t understand you.” I kept my voice warm but firm.

She dropped her hands. Without glasses, she looked ten years younger, her dark eyes wide and tear-drenched. “I’m barren! I can’t have children.”

I turned to Doolittle.

He nodded.

Dali flipped the box open. Inside was a large crystal vial filled with amber liquid. It shimmered and glowed, as if filled with glitter.

“Roland sent us this. It’s a gift.” She spat the word out as if it were poison. “We don’t even know how he knew we were trying to conceive. The man he sent said it will heal me. Jim refused to take it, but he left it on the ground just outside the gates, and I went and got it. I need to know if it will fix me. He told us to test it to prove that it wasn’t poison, but I don’t want to be responsible for anyone getting hurt.”

Well, now we knew what was in the briefcase.

Hugh kept eating.

Elara looked at him.

He shrugged. “It’s not my problem.”

“Please answer her,” she asked.

“You feel bad, but I don’t,” he said.

“For me,” she asked.

“You know my price,” he told her.

Elara leaned back and crossed her arms, her face iced over. “Really?”

“The whole thing. You’ll put it in your mouth and you’ll swallow.”

What?

“The whole thing?”

“I mean it, Elara. You will eat the entire chicken.”

“I can’t possibly eat the whole chicken. It’s too much.”

Hugh’s voice was merciless. “Do it over the course of the day.”

“Do you expect me to eat the bones, too?”

“Now you’re being childish.”

“I just want to have the terms of this agreement clear,” she told him.

“You don’t have to eat the bones,” he said. “You will consume the meat and skin of the chicken. Possibly some cartilage if you feel like it. All the parts of the chicken normally eaten by human beings.”

“You’re a bully,” she told him.

“You knew I was an asshole when you married me.”

“Fine. I will eat the damn chicken. Help her, please.”

Hugh stopped eating, placed his fork and knife onto the plate, moved it aside, and nodded at the bottle. “This is ambrosia. Not the actual nectar of the gods, but an all-around curative Roland cooks up. It takes him about a year to make it. It will heal an injury in record time. Personally, I wouldn’t take it. His potions come with fun side effects. You might get pregnant, and ten days later you might saw off your husband’s head in his sleep.”

All the air had gone out of Dali. I stepped closer to her and put my hands on her shoulders. Curran was still holding her. I wished I could make it better.

“So it won’t cure me,” she said, her voice bitter.

“I doubt it. You didn’t suffer an injury that needs to be corrected. Your problem is too much regeneration. Both of your fallopian tubes have fused shut. If you were human, I’d expect to find a severe case of endometriosis. The tissue normally inside your uterus would be growing outside it. But you’re a shapeshifter, so Lyc-V is trying to fix the problem by plugging every hole it can find, and it decided your fallopian tubes are a danger zone. Before the Shift, they sidestepped endometriosis infertility with in vitro fertilization. It’s not an option for us. I take it you tried surgical options, and the tubes reclose immediately after the operation is completed?”

“Yes,” Doolittle said.

Hugh squinted at Dali. “I can fix it, but it will require cutting you open. You’ll have to stay awake during the procedure, and it will have to be done without anesthetic, because I’ll need you to hold back the Lyc-V, otherwise it will heal you faster than I can regrow your tissue. The moment you go under, you surrender control of your virus and it goes into overdrive, because it thinks you’re dying. The surgery won’t be fun. Your husband won’t like it. Talk it over with him.”

“You would do this for me?” Dali asked him. “Why?”

“Because my wife asked me to,” he said.

“How are you planning on reopening the tubes?” Doolittle asked.

“I’m not. I will cut them out of her and regrow them.”

Doolittle looked at Dali. “Even with his power, that will take hours.”

“I said it wouldn’t be fun,” Hugh said.

“Think very carefully,” Doolittle said. “It will be very painful.”

She raised her head. “I want a child. My and Jim’s child. You have no idea what it’s like to not be able to have a baby. All I see are babies. Andrea’s baby, Kate’s baby, and now George is pregnant.”

“George is pregnant?” That was the first I’d heard of it.

“I don’t begrudge anyone their babies. I just want to have one of my own.”

“Talk to Jim,” Curran said.

“It’s not Jim’s decision,” she told him.

“I know that,” he said. “But he loves you. He should be allowed to at least tell you how he feels about it.”

“I would have to be present during the surgery,” Doolittle said to Hugh. “And my assistants.”

“I can do it in front of the whole Pack if you want,” he said. “Makes no difference to me.”

“I just want to be a mom,” Dali said softly. “I want to hold the baby that Jim and I made. I want to cuddle him or her. Sing to her. I want a baby.”

She glanced at me and a little light of the old Dali sparked in her eyes. “I want to freak out and take my baby to Doolittle in a panic when he sneezes.”

Really? “I don’t take Conlan in when he sneezes. I have serious concerns.”

Curran exploded from his spot by Dali. He leaped over the table and tore out the door. I grabbed Sarrat and ran after him.

We burst onto the street. The window on the top floor of George’s house lay shattered, the bars missing. A man landed in the middle of the street with inhuman grace, his patched trench coat flaring around him. Razer.

He was clutching my son to him, pointing the tip of his dagger at Conlan’s neck. The dagger gleamed with silver.

Sarrat smoked in my hand. I snapped my magic like a whip, activating the long-distance ward that would lock him in. He’d have to break it to leave the street, and I had a lot more magic than he did.

Curran shifted. An eight-foot nightmare rose next to me, a meld of human and lion distilled into a thing of power and speed, designed to do only one thing: kill. A huge Kodiak, bleeding from a gash on its head, tore out of George’s house.

Hugh moved to the right of me, a sword in his hand. Next to him Elara stepped forward. Dali stalked to the left of Curran. Derek and Julie sprinted to us from Derek’s house. A trio of vampires burst from the other end of the street, cutting off his exit. More werebears poured out of George’s place.

Razer looked up. Christopher swooped over his head, blood-red wings spread wide.

My aunt burst into existence next to me.

“Give us the child,” Curran said, his voice a low growl.

Razer clenched Conlan to him and bared his long, sharp teeth. Fae teeth, made to strip flesh off human bones. My son was looking at me, his huge eyes wide and scared.

“Give us the child, and I’ll let you live,” I told him.

Razer looked left, then right. There was nowhere to go. He was caught in a ring of snarling fangs, glowing eyes, and steel.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hugh said. “Give us the kid.”

“I hold the cards,” Razer rasped. He flicked the dagger and cut Conlan’s cheek. Blood swelled, the edge of the wound turning duct-tape gray—the virus dying.

I would kill him.

Everyone snarled.

“Stay back!” Razer barked.

Conlan swiped at the blood, saw it on his hand . . . His lip trembled. He sucked in a lungful of air and screamed.

“Shut up!” Razer snarled into his face.

Conlan’s gray eyes went wide and flared with hot, furious gold. His human body tore. A demonic half-lion, half-child burst out. The blood snapped from his wound, forming red blades over his claws. Conlan raked Razer’s face, ripping bloody gashes in the flesh. His claws caught Razer’s left eye and tore it out of the socket. The fae howled and caught it reflexively into his hand. Conlan kicked free and dashed to me. I caught him in my arms and hugged him.

The whole thing took less than a second.

My son had just made blood claws. He’d made claws out of his own blood.

Blood claws.

The street had gone so silent, you could hear people breathing.

Razer stared at his own eye in his hand.

Curran surged forward.

My aunt softly praised Conlan. “Such a gifted child,” she cooed. “Such a talented little prince.”

The little nightmare smiled at Erra, showing all of his teeth. He struggled to say something and changed back into a human. “Gama.”

“Grandma is so proud,” Erra told him.

“That’s my boy.” I made my voice happy and light.

Conlan hugged my neck. “Bad.”

Razer was screaming because Curran had pulled his left arm off.

“Yes, bad. Look at Daddy ripping the bad man to pieces. Go Daddy!”

Conlan clapped his hands.

Curran snapped Razer’s spine with a loud crack, then twisted off the fae’s head.

“Look, Daddy killed him dead. All dead.”

Conlan giggled.

Dali was staring at me with a look of pure horror.

“I don’t want him to have nightmares that the bad man is going to get him,” I told her. “This way he knows his daddy killed him.”

Curran stood over Razer’s ruined corpse and roared.

“Rawrawrawr,” human Conlan said.

“That’s right,” I said.

“What happened to not wanting to traumatize him?” a vampire asked me in Ghastek’s voice.

“I gave up,” I told him. “We are a family of monsters and he’s our child. People will always try to kill him and we will always protect him. He better get used to it.”