Iron and Magic (The Iron Covenant, #1)

by Ilona Andrews

God was dead. No, that wasn’t quite it. Hugh was dead. No, that wasn’t it either.

“I’m not asking.” Stoyan stepped in front of him. “I trusted you. I followed you. Not Roland. Roland didn’t make me promises. You did. You sold me this idea of belonging to something better. The Iron Dogs are more than a job. A brotherhood, you said.” “A family, where each of us stands for something greater,” Lamar said. “If you fall, the rest will shield you,” Bale said. “Well, by God, we’re falling,” Stoyan said.

“You two will get along. He’s like you.” “How’s that?” “A big, mean sonovabitch that nobody wants.”

Hugh was reasonably sure that they hated his guts, which meant things were proceeding right on schedule.

Lamar halted before him. His gaze strayed past Hugh. “What?” Hugh asked. “He’s doing it again.” Hugh turned. In the small corral before his tent, Bucky glowed. A silver light shone from the stallion’s flanks, as if each hair in his coat was sheathed in liquid moonlight. Hugh gritted his teeth. The next time he saw Ryan, he would kill him. Bucky pranced in the corral. “Everything but the horn,” Lamar said, his voice filled with pretended awe.

“There is a tried-and-true method of making an alliance appear secure,” Lamar said carefully. Hugh glanced at him. “A union,” Lamar said, as if worried the word would cut his mouth. “What union?” “A civil union, Preceptor.” “What the hell are you on about?” Lamar took a deep breath. “Marriage!” Bale yelled out. Hugh stared at Lamar. “Marriage?” “Yes.” They had to be out of their minds. “Who would be getting married?” “You.”

“And just to be crystal clear,” Elara said. “This marriage is in name only.” “Sweetheart, you couldn’t pay me enough.” Pink touched her tan cheeks. “If you betray us, I’ll make you suffer.” “We haven’t even married yet, and I’m suffering already.” “We have that in common,” she snapped. They both leaned back at the same time. He was marrying an ice harpy. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“Rot in hell, d’Ambray.” “I love you too, darling.”

He needed more. She was still too beautiful, too regal, too much. “Aren’t you supposed to have some little kids running around throwing flowers? Or did you sacrifice them on the way?” Her face jerked. “Yes, I did. And I devoured their souls.” There she was. “Good to know. The photographer is snapping pictures. Say cheese, love.” Elara gave him a brilliant happy smile. “Cheese, dickhead.” He did his best to look the way a groom might if he was actually marrying this creature and imagining getting her out of that gown tonight. “Rabid harpy.” “Bastard.” The pastor, a man in his thirties with dark hair and glasses, stared at them, his mouth slack. “Start the ceremony,” Hugh told him, putting some menace into his voice. “Before we kill each other,” Elara said.

“…these two people decided to live their lives as one.” Perish the thought, he mouthed. Shut up, she mouthed back with that same dazzling smile.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.” Hugh stepped toward her. “Try to make this look good.” “I’ll do my best not to vomit in your mouth.” Is that so? Okay. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, feeling the silky strands of her hair slip through his fingers, leaned forward, and kissed her. She gasped a little into his mouth, and he kissed her the way he would kiss a woman he was trying to seduce, enticing, promising, claiming her. She tasted fresh and sweet. What do you know? He had expected poison and ash. People cheered. Elara dug her fingernails into his arm. He nipped her lip on the way out and let her go. She looked like she would claw him bloody.

Hugh grinned and everyone around him wanted to be the one to make him happy. D’Ambray took a lungful of air and roared. “Honey, I’m home!” Skolnik turned to look. The stallion bore down at him and the senator took an involuntary step back. D’Ambray dismounted, ran up the steps, and pulled her to him, clamping her against his hard chest. “Give us a kiss.” She would murder him. He showed no signs of letting her go, so Elara brushed his lips with hers as quickly as she could. D’Ambray was gazing at her adoringly. “Did you miss me?” “Counted the moments since you were gone.” In joy. She counted them in joy, hoping they would last forever.

Every hour we don’t work is another hour without a moat.”

Elara swung toward her. The storm within her was straining to break out, and Vanessa had just designated herself as a lightning rod. This ought to be good. Hugh landed in a chair and leaned back, his head resting on the interlocked fingers of his hands. He wished he had a beer.

“If I chop off your head, will it grow back?” Elara spun around and almost ran into Hugh. He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his face cold. A man that large shouldn’t have moved that quietly. “I don’t know,” she said, keeping her voice iced over. “We could do an experiment. You try chopping off my head and I’ll try to chop off yours. We’ll see who’s left standing.” A spark flashed in the depths of his blue irises. “Tempting.” “Isn’t it? You just have to tell me which head you want chopped off, the top one or the one you usually think with.” “Take your pick.”

“That’s the second time you used the ‘w’ word in the space of an hour without us being in public. You’re past your quota, Preceptor.” “I’ll remember this. Your tab is getting longer and longer. The next time you need something from me, I’ll remind you.” “Be still my heart.” “I wish. Ready?” She plastered a welcoming smile on her face. “No time like the present.” “Happy couple in three... two...” Hugh grinned and waved at the party. She waved too, fighting the feeling of sudden dread climbing up her spine.

Daniels had felt like that, a little witchy, but mostly her magic felt like boiling blood. Elara was ice.

Some people paced, Hugh juggled a razor-sharp knife with his right hand. Aw, the man she married. Ugh.

Dugas checked his notes. “Last thing. The first escort from the Pack arrives tomorrow to pick up the two shapeshifter families. We don’t anticipate any problems, but just in case…” The knife stopped in Hugh’s hand. “What pack?” “The Pack,” she said. “Atlanta’s Pack. The Free People of the Code.” His people sat up straighter. Stoyan’s face turned unreadable like a wall. “Run that by me again,” Hugh said, his voice deceptively calm.

“I don’t have a problem with shapeshifters. I have a problem with that particular Pack. I know Lennart. I know how he operates. We’re not doing this.” “Curran Lennart is no longer in charge of the Atlanta Pack,” Savannah said. Hugh looked at her, then turned to Lamar. “You didn’t think to mention it?” “It didn’t come up,” Lamar said apologetically. “He retired to start a family.” Hugh stared at him for a second longer, then laughed, a bitter cold sound. “The moron left it all for her. You can’t make this shit up. Who’s in charge now?” “James Shrapshire,” Lamar said. Elara had to grab this opening. “See? It’s no longer Lennart’s pack.” “Is Lennart dead?” Hugh asked. “No,” Dugas said. “Then it’s still his Pack.” Hugh leaned forward. “Lennart is a First. His ancestors made a deal for their power with animal gods that roamed the planet when humans ran around in animal skins and hid from lightning in caves. It doesn’t matter who’s in charge of the Pack. When he roars, every shapeshifter will follow him, and we won’t be doing business with him. This matter is closed.”

Oooh he didn't even know

“I must be stupid, because I married an idiot who stomps around and throws tantrums like a spoiled child! What the hell did this Curran do to you? Killed your master, stole your girl, burned down your castle? What?” Hugh leaned back, his eyes blazing. Oooh, she touched a nerve. Direct hit. She turned to Stoyan. “Let me guess, it was the girl.” “And the castle,” Felix said quietly.

Johanna emerged from the hallway and waved at them. “Hello.” Stoyan’s gaze snagged on her for half a second too long. Well. That was interesting.

“He tried to kill the child in the womb,” Hugh said. She stopped and glanced at him. “What?” “It didn’t work. Daniels is hard to kill.”

“Did she like your proposal?” “No. We danced around for a while. Sparred once.” “Is she good?” “Yes.” “Better than you?” “Faster. Voron taught us both. It was like fighting myself. She’s a killer. If you take away her sword, she’ll pick up a rock. If you take away the rock, she’ll kill you with her hands. She zeroes in and doesn’t let go.” Suppressed admiration slipped into his words. Elara felt an uncomfortable pinch. “Aside from fighting Voron, it was probably my best fight,” he said.

Daniels was Hugh’s only major failure. He never knew he was only allowed one.

Of all the people on this planet, you are the ones who truly know what it’s like to be Roland’s child.”

Hugh locked his teeth, sorting through his memories, going through Daniels’s facial expressions. He remembered the last one best, the time he had starved her, trying to force her to submit to her father. She had this look of resignation on her face as if she had given up on him ever getting it. She never saw him as a man. He was never in the running; he had known that from the start. He was either an extension of Roland or… It hit him like a ton of bricks. Daniels saw him as a sibling. She probably didn’t even realize it. On some level he had always understood it. It wasn’t the woman he had wanted. It was what she represented. He wanted her acceptance. He wanted her to admit how good he was. He would’ve seduced her to get it and then rubbed Roland’s face in it. One way or the other, the bastard would acknowledge him then. Validation. So simple.

“I should’ve played the brother angle.” He didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until he heard his own voice. “Come back to your true family?” Elara asked. He nodded. “It would’ve been so easy too. ‘Look at everything you sacrificed for Lennart, and here he is, sniffing after the first attractive shapeshifter girl that fluttered her eyelashes at him. You’ll never belong with them, but you belong with us. We are your true family. He’ll never understand you, but we will. I will. I know exactly what it’s like. Come with me, and you will have a father and a brother who love you above all others.’ Damn it! I could’ve had her.” She didn’t say anything. “Why the hell didn’t I see it?” “Because you wanted something from her, Hugh,” Elara said, her voice gentle. “And it made you blind. What did you want?” “Doesn’t matter now.” He wanted acceptance. If not from Roland, then from her. He would never have it now, and when he thought about it, the ball of conflicting crap those thoughts dragged in their wake was too complicated to deal with. “Should I worry about this Daniels coming here to kill you?” Elara asked. “If I were her, I’d hunt you to the ends of the Earth.” Hugh struggled for a moment with the paradox of someone worrying about him. “No. Her hands are tied. She claimed Atlanta as her domain the night Roland exiled me. If she leaves, he will attack.” “So she sacrificed revenge for her people.” “That’s the way she’s wired.”

If he felt all this shit now, he would’ve felt it when he was doing it. He should’ve been bothered. That part of him had been suppressed and he wasn’t the one doing that suppressing.

It sounded like something Daniels would do. Subtle like a runaway bulldozer.

“She defended you,” Lamar said. Hugh turned to him. “You said you wanted to know. Stoyan memorized that part. He thought you would want to know one day.” Lamar reached inside his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Read it to me.” “‘You were everything to him. He committed all those atrocities for you and you stripped him of your love, the thing he cared about most.’ ‘Hugh outlived his usefulness. His life had been a series of uncomplicated tasks and eventually he became his work.’” A simpleton. That’s how he saw me. And she understood. “‘He was raised exactly like you wanted him to be.’ ‘He was like a fallen star. I melted it down and forged it into a sword. It’s not truly his fault, but the world is becoming more complicated not less. Some swords are meant to be forged only once.’”

I am a sword. A weapon. Okay. But you’ve made me into a really sharp sword and I know how to cut you.

Daniels turned the Atlanta Chapter of the People.” “Of course she did. Ghastek is her Legatus?” “Yes. How did you…?” “Ghastek is terrified of death and Daniels can bestow immortality,” Hugh said. “What happened with the battle?” “They fought. Roland assaulted the Keep. It was the crudest assault known to mankind.” “Don’t tell me he formed up his troops and marched them to their fort.” “He did exactly that.” Moron. The word sliced across his nerves like a red-hot blade. He’d just called Roland a moron in his head. The pain echoed through him, but the world kept spinning. “The combined forces of Atlanta massacred his army,” Lamar said. “Daniels and Lennart tried to kill him. He fled.” His brain chopped through the words trying to make sense of them. “He fled?” “He did.” Lamar smiled. “Teleported out.” A chance. Daniels had a shot at the title.

“Daniels is pregnant,” Lamar said quietly. “Is it Lennart’s?” He already knew the answer. “They’re married, and she doesn’t seem like the cheating type.” “Roland’s worst fear,” Hugh thought out loud. “Why?” Lamar asked. “Roland’s magic is like a science. It’s systematic, it’s logical, and it has laws. It supports all of the cornerstones of the scientific method: the observation, measurement, experimentation, and formation and testing of theory. He views it as a civilizing force. Shapeshifter magic is ancient and wild. It relies on instinct. It predates Roland’s systematic approach. He derides it as primitive, but he fears it and he’s drawn to it because he doesn’t understand it. He’s fascinated by witches. His daughter is half a witch and now she’s conceived a shapeshifter child.” Understanding shone in Lamar’s eyes. “He’s afraid his grandchild will surpass him.” Hugh nodded. “He’ll do anything to get his hands on that kid. Except that he’s thinking a generation too late. It’s not the baby he needs to worry about. It’s the mother.”

“Fancy meeting you here,” the boy said. “Hello,” Elara said. “I take it you’re Ascanio Ferara. I see you know my husband.” “Yes, I do. The last time we met, he tortured me,” Ascanio said. He what? Could this get any worse? “You’re still alive,” Hugh said. “Clearly my heart wasn’t in it.” He raised the bucket and poured water over his head. “He tortured you?” she asked. “He was trying to get a friend of mine to come out of a cage, so he could take her to her father,” Ascanio said. “So he would heal me, then break me, then heal me again. I don’t remember it, but I heard such wonderful stories about it. Your husband is a man of many accomplishments.” Oh, there was no doubt of that. “Let’s see, his people killed the alpha of my clan, he broke the Beast Lord’s legs, he kidnapped the Beast Lord’s mate, dumped her into a shaft filled with water inside her father’s prison, and almost starved her to death. These are just the highlights.” He laughed, an eerie crazy cackle.

“Interesting kid.” “He’ll be the next bouda alpha.” And they would all be worse for it. He remembered the files on Raphael and Andrea Medrano, who ran the clan now. At Ferara’s age and under similar circumstances, Raphael would’ve charged Hugh the moment he saw him. Boudas lost a lot of children to loupism, especially males. They spoiled the surviving boys beyond reason. That Ferara had the presence of mind to set aside pride and personal history to preserve the alliance was nothing short of a miracle. Shrewd. It would be prudent to kill him now, before he matured.

Roland wanted his daughter. Nothing mattered except getting her to him. Nothing else existed.” Hugh struggled to explain the relentless pressure and the finality in Roland’s eyes when he had given the order. He’d gone into it with a kind of grim determination that now seemed desperate. He couldn’t find the words.

“I healed him.” “What else?” “The virus had fused some of the broken bones. I had to rebreak him to fix his chest. I made her think I was alternating between killing and healing. She promised to come out of the cage if I healed him, but someone interfered.” “Would you have killed the boy to get her?” “Yes.” “But he was a child.” “Nothing mattered except getting Kate to Sharrum.” “What does that word mean, Sharrum?” “King. God. Everything. Everything that I am is shaped by Sharrum. He is wisdom and purpose. He is life.”

Everything that he used to shrug off and that now haunted his nightmares, he let it all out. He owned all of it. He was ordered to do it, he was praised when he succeeded, and it didn’t matter, because every drop of blood, every last gasp, all of it was his fault.