Magic Rises (Kate Daniels, #6)

by Ilona Andrews

Curran grinned. “Enjoying my suffering?” I asked. “I find it hilarious that you’ll run into a gunfight with nothing but your sword, but paperwork makes you panic.” Barabas put a thicker stack in front of him. “This is yours, m’lord.” Curran swore.

I also know that Mahon is thinking of going, and when the old bear wants something, he usually gets his way.” How the hell did she find out? “Do you have spies in Clan Heavy?” “I have spies everywhere.” I looked at Andrea, who was hoarding bacon on her plate. “She had tea with Mahon’s wife,” Andrea said. Aunt B looked at her. “You and I need to work on your air of mystery.” Andrea shrugged. “She’s my best friend. I won’t lie to her.” I raised my fist and she bumped it with hers.

“I have bad dreams.” So do I. “What do you dream about?” She turned to me, her eyes haunted. “Towers. I see them being built on the grass. They are terrible towers. I look at them and cry. And I see you, and you’re looking at me, and you’re calling me . . .” Oh no. Cold claws pricked my spine.

The highway snaked its way through a flat salt marsh. Reeds and grasses swayed gently, giving us a glimpse of wet mud exposed as low tide sucked the water out of the marsh. A sign flashed by, a yellow diamond with a turtle on it, followed immediately by another sign, a triangle bordered in red. A turtle in the center of the triangle had a dark cone touching its mouth. “What does that mean?” Barabas asked from the backseat. “Magic turtle crossing.” “I got that one, but what about the second one?” “Beware the magic turtles.” “Why?” “They spit fire.”

“Hi, Keira.” Ha! So that was what Jim’s sister looked like. Keira winked at Eduardo. “Hello, delicious.” All of the blood drained from Eduardo’s face. The container whistled through the air, cleared the deck, and plunged into the water on the other side. Keira laughed, a low contralto chuckle, and kept going. “Oops,” Eduardo called out.

That does it. I leaned forward. “Hey, you. Either put your claws where your mouth is or shut the fuck up. Nobody wants to hear you yip.” Jarek’s eyes bulged. Green flared in the depths of his irises, an insane hot flame. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. “Yes, just like that,” I told him. “Less talking, more quiet.”

Hugh smiled. Your teeth are too perfect, Hugh. I can totally help you with that.

“For a moment I thought you might be a real human being, but you proved me wrong. Thanks. It will make it so much easier to kill you.” Hugh leaned forward. A strange light danced in his eyes. “Want to give it a shot?” Anytime. “Why, you want to show me what you’ve learned?” “Ooo.” Hugh sucked the air in, narrowing his eyes. “Mean. I like mean.”

“I can only claim responsibility for half of the kills. The rest belong to your wife . . . fiancée?” Hugh turned to me. “You’re not married, right? What is the term?” Oh, you bastard. “Consort.” Barabas rose behind Curran. “The term is ‘Consort.’” “How quaint.” Hugh winked at Curran. “No marriage, no division of property, and no strings attached. Well played, Lennart. Well played.”

For the first time in months I felt completely alone. It was a familiar but half-forgotten feeling. I hadn’t felt this isolated since Greg died. He’d taken care of me for almost ten years after Voron’s death. I had taken him for granted, and when he was murdered, it felt like someone had cracked my life apart with the blow of a hammer. The shapeshifters never treated me like an outsider, but at this moment I knew exactly how a third wheel felt.

He fought like Voron: skilled, smart, and deadly. Fighting him was magic. It was like sparring with my father. But I had beaten Voron when I was fourteen. I would beat Hugh as well. I was too angry to stop.

The wall was right behind him. Hugh took a slow, deliberate step back. I followed, my sword an inch into his upper stomach. If I pressed, he’d suffer a lacerated liver. He leaned against the wall. A slow smile stretched his bloodstained lips. “I’d like to hear it.” Hugh leaned forward, forcing the sword to bite deeper into his muscle. A strange expression claimed his face, a kind of focused but slightly amused look, possessive, no, inviting . . . Hugh opened his mouth. “Uncle.” It wasn’t a surrender. It was a dare. A year ago I might’ve mistaken it for something else or convinced myself I was reading too much into it, but a year of being in love and being wanted gave me enough of a basis to identify that look. Hugh was turned on.

Hugh pulled off his shirt, displaying an award-winning torso. He was built like an anatomy model—every muscle honed to precision and just the right size: strong, powerful, but flexible. And bloody. I must’ve cut him over twenty times. Most of the wounds amounted to little more than nicks and shallow gashes. He was really good. Had I been less angry, he might’ve won. That thought worried me. Hugh turned his left arm, showing off three precision cuts across the bulging triceps. Had I managed to cut deeper, I would’ve disabled the arm with each one. “Look at this.” Hugh indicated the cuts to Curran. “Like a fucking artist.”

Lorelei chose that precise moment to rush out the door. She saw my face and stopped. That’s right. Keep your distance, delicate flower. The weak human is still very angry. In my mind, I dashed at her and swung. She had a thin neck. Wouldn’t be too hard.

“I need to talk to you.” “Not right now.” I’d had it with him. “Yes, now.” “But how will Princess Wilson survive without your manly protection while you and I talk?” Gold rolled over his eyes. “I tell you what. She is over there and I’m here. Pick.” “It’s not that simple.” “Then I’ll pick for you.” Watch me walk away. “Is that a threat?” “No, that was a test and you failed it.

“I’ll come, too,” Eduardo said. “Why don’t you let me go instead,” Keira said. “You can barely stand.” “I don’t know, all he has to do is come with us and loom,” Aunt B said. Eduardo crossed his arms on his chest, making his giant biceps bulge. “What do you mean, loom?” “We need you to stand there with your arms crossed and scowl,” I translated. Eduardo scowled. “I don’t do that.” “Just like that,” Derek said. Eduardo realized his arms were crossed and dropped them. “Screw you guys.”

“We never met but we were trained by the same person. Now he works for a very powerful man who will kill me if he finds me.” “Why?” Keira asked. “It’s a family thing.” “That explains the attraction,” Aunt B said. “Attraction?” “You’re that thing he can’t have. It’s called forbidden fruit.” “I’m not his fruit!” “He thinks you are.

“He said that the man must be your husband, because only someone we love very much can make us this crazy.”

“Atsany says you’re not ready for marriage. You don’t have the right temperament for it.”

“No,” Curran said. “You’re not going.” “Are you ordering me not to go?” “I can’t order you to do anything. Nor would I try. You want to go alone to have dinner with a guy who killed your stepfather, who serves your father, and who gets a hard-on when you beat the shit out of him. How is this a good idea?”

“What the hell is this?” Jarek Kral snarled. “The future,” Hugh said. Hell no. No, this wouldn’t be my future. Not if I had anything to say about it. “No!” Suliko waved her arms. “A future!” Her accented voice vibrated with urgency. “Do not always to be this way. One possibility!”

The undead crimson streamed to me, pouring out of the headless corpses, merging together into currents like capillaries flowed into veins. The thick, viscous liquid pooled around my legs. I pumped my left arm and let the blood from the cut drip into the puddle of red below. The first drop landed and the reaction it set off sparked through me, like a rush of adrenaline. The blood twisted about me, suddenly malleable.