Winter Kiss Page 15

  Jorge didn’t waste time. He launched himself at Delaney, and latched on to his back with all four claws. Delaney roared when Jorge dug his front talons into Delaney’s wings, but writhed free and spun to fight. He struck Jorge hard with his tail and ripped Jorge’s belly with his back claws. Delaney sent Jorge tumbling backward with the force of his assault.

  Jorge’s blood ran black, stinging his own scaled hide with its corrosive heat. That his coat might be damaged made Jorge angry. In that moment, he decided he cared more for defeating Delaney than for fulfilling Magnus’s command.

  Let the mate fall to her death. It was more important that Jorge dispatch Delaney. It was unthinkable that his own beauty had been marred, and Delaney had to pay for that.

  “You’ll never defeat me,” Jorge taunted Delaney. The pair had locked talons again and Jorge held fast, ensuring that Delaney couldn’t pursue his falling mate. He laughed as the Pyr fought against his grip. “I’ve drunk more of the Elixir than you. I’ll heal from my wounds.”

  “You’re preserved, not alive,” Delaney retorted as they wrestled. “It’s not the same.”

  “I’m as alive as you.”

  “You’re just pickled.” Delaney bared his teeth and bit Jorge right in the throat, burying his teeth deeply and giving the Slayer a shake. He ripped open Jorge’s chest, then cast him aside when Jorge’s grip slackened slightly.

  Jorge was as shocked by the viciousness of Delaney’s assault as his condemnation.

  Pickled?

  Delaney rocketed toward his mate, abandoning Jorge. Jorge roared in irritation, then exhaled a stream of dragonsmoke. He targeted the smoke at his opponent, but Delaney had anticipated the move. He flew in an erratic pattern, evading the burning touch of the smoke. His course led directly to his falling mate.

  To Jorge’s disappointment, Delaney would arrive in time.

  Delaney snatched up his mate when she was just twenty feet from the ground, then soared upward again with her safely in his claws. She cheered and Delaney pivoted in midair, his eyes glowing and his tail flowing as he eyed Jorge. His wings beat steadily as he hovered.

  Despite his wounds, Jorge was no easy target. He dove at Delaney and hit him hard, making him lose the rhythm of his flight. The pair thrashed each other with their tails, tumbling through the sky as they battled. Jorge desperately sought Delaney’s missing scale—he had to have lost one, as the Pyr routinely loved their mates—but Delaney’s scaled hide was perfectly intact.

  Had the Smith already repaired Delaney’s armor?

  Jorge didn’t care. He could make this come right with might. He attacked Delaney with vigor. He locked talons with Delaney, holding fast to one foreclaw and not letting go. Delaney tried to pass his mate to his back claw, but Jorge breathed a thick stream of dragonsmoke to intervene.

  Delaney flinched from the smoke’s touch and Jorge seized the mate. She struggled against his grip, but she was too feeble for her efforts to matter. Delaney snatched after her, but the smoke made him draw back his claws. He was persistent, though, shouldering through the smoke farther than Jorge would have anticipated.

  Jorge breathed smoke thick and fast, cocooning the mate with his boundary mark. He held her fast in his back claw, slashing and attacking Delaney with his other claws.

  Jorge flew higher, making his escape, and Delaney fell back, snarling, clearly unable to retaliate because of the smoke. Jorge breathed more smoke, targeting Delaney, intending to enshroud him in the lethal substance and suck him dry. He could let Delaney watch him injure the mate. That would add spice to the moment. Jorge had time to feel triumphant in his plan before Delaney revealed his feint.

  Jorge was attacked from below. Delaney flew straight up, fast and hard, right through the dragonsmoke, the Pyr’s talons digging deeply into Jorge’s genitals. Jorge bellowed in pain and rolled through the air to fight, impressed how Delaney narrowed his eyes against the smoke and kept on the attack.

  Delaney wasn’t immune to smoke.

  He was ignoring it.

  Delaney’s scales were shriveling and turning dark, but he didn’t back off. In fact, Delaney’s talons pierced deeply into Jorge’s privates, his grasp sending excruciating pain through Jorge. The pain distracted Jorge for a fatal moment.

  Delaney slashed at Jorge’s back claw at that moment, severing Jorge’s foot from his body.

  Jorge was appalled to see his own foot fall toward the earth, Delaney’s mate still securely within its grasp.

  The pain was searing.

  Jorge was empowered by his rage. He thrashed at Delaney and pummeled him. He vented his fury upon the Pyr who had dared to mutilate him, anger giving him savage power.

  Delaney went limp and Jorge let him fall, hoping that the impact shattered his bones. Maybe he’d delay in notifying Magnus of the Pyr’s fall. Maybe he’d forget to ensure that Delaney got more of the Elixir.

  Delaney dropped far enough to be out of Jorge’s range, then awakened so abruptly that Jorge knew he’d been deceived. The Pyr caught his mate and set her on the ground, where she promptly wriggled out of Jorge’s severed claw and kicked it aside. Jorge fell on the Pyr, snatching him up and flying high into the sky.

  He loosed everything he had on Delaney, not trusting his sense that the Pyr’s strength was fading. He ripped Delaney’s shoulder, hating how the blood flowed red; he severed the Pyr’s wings at their roots, burned him, and beat him. Then he threw the Pyr’s body at the earth, panting at his own exertion, watching until his opponent landed hard.

  Delaney didn’t move again. His blood ran red in the snow, the stain growing larger as the mate stared. She started toward him, making some pathetic human noise. Delaney shifted back to human form, looking broken and battered and pale against the snow.

  He still didn’t move.

  Jorge didn’t think he’d live long.

  That was good enough for Jorge. Unfortunately, in his current state, he couldn’t challenge Magnus. He’d have to fulfill his errand instead, and keep himself in Magnus’s favor until he healed. Jorge swooped down and snatched up both the mate and his own claw. He held them together, enjoying her revulsion.

  “I told you that you’d have bigger concerns,” Jorge said lightly, then laughed as she battled him. He ascended again, barely aware of her struggles, and set a course for Magnus’s home.

  He knew exactly what reward he’d demand of his so-called superior for the indignities he’d suffered on this errand.

  Magnus would have to pay big for this.

  “It’s as if he has a death wish,” Niall complained. He and Thorolf and Rafferty had adjourned to a diner down the road from Ginger’s farm, Thorolf having insisted that he needed a piece of pie. Thorolf was on his second piece, since he’d been unable to decide upon apple or cherry.

  The waitress, Mary, was apparently charmed by Thorolf’s appetite. It couldn’t have been Thorolf’s own excuse for charm, not in Niall’s view. Niall figured it took all kinds to make a world.

  “Isn’t it, though,” Rafferty said. He barely sipped his coffee, and Niall had the sense that the old Pyr was sorting his memories of old stories.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing really,” Rafferty acknowledged, tapping the handle of his mug with a frown. “I’m sure that Sloane will bring us some better answers when he returns with that ancient treatise.”

  “That’s going to take the better part of a day,” Niall complained, watching Thorolf put away pie with gusto. “He’s got to go all the way to his place in California and back.”

  “They have sixteen kinds of pie,” Thorolf contributed. “I’m good here for a while.”

  “You’ll get fat.”

  Thorolf’s disdain for the notion was clear. “In your dreams. I am metabolism man. Bring on the pie.” He raised his voice and waved his fork. “Hey, Mary, can I try the blueberry, please?”

  Niall regarded the tall Pyr with irritation. “The air is thick with the scent of Slayer. If we hang around here, I guarantee th
ere’ll be more to do than eat pie and flirt with waitresses.”

  “Good,” Thorolf said. “I like a fight, the dirtier the better.”

  Niall had to admit that the Pyr’s newest recruit was an effective fighter. It was Thorolf’s sole talent, as far as Niall could see. Even though he had been the one to find Thorolf, there was something about the other Pyr’s casual attitude that irritated Niall. He’d never thought of himself as straitlaced, but Thorolf’s language and manner made Niall feel as unbending and constrained by protocol as his father had been.

  The last thing Niall had ever wanted to be was a younger version of his uptight and unapproachable father, and he’d never felt that he was until he met Thorolf. It wasn’t a comparison that put him in a good mood, and he blamed Thorolf for unwelcome reminders of the past.

  Rafferty was drumming his fingers on the table, an unusual expression of urgency for the old Pyr. “I think we should leave,” he said carefully. “As Delaney requests of us.”

  “That’s crazy,” Niall argued. “There are too many Slayers, and he’s got this nutty idea that he can destroy the Elixir alone. . . .”

  “And why does he have that idea?” Rafferty asked softly.

  Niall flung out a hand. “I don’t know. He was pretty grim when he sold me his share of our partnership. He said life wasn’t worth living with the Elixir’s darkness in his veins.”

  Mary brought the pie and set it down before Thorolf. “I put ice cream on it this time, too,” she said with a smile. “Is that okay?”

  “Great,” Thorolf said with appreciation. “You know, this pie is amazing, the best I’ve ever had.”

  She smiled. “Maybe you’ll come back to try the other thirteen kinds.”

  Thorolf grinned at her and Niall rolled his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stay here, eating pie, until you get off shift.”

  “Oh! I’m only working until six today.”

  Thorolf exhaled and squared his shoulders. “Good thing you have sixteen kinds of pie.”

  Mary flushed and smiled. “You gentlemen need more coffee?”

  “No, thanks, we’re fine,” Niall said, his manner less encouraging than Thorolf’s had been. Mary hurried back to the counter as Thorolf dug in.

  “You didn’t have to scare her,” Thorolf grumbled, but Niall ignored him.

  “He said he couldn’t live with it,” Niall continued his explanation to a watchful Rafferty. “I thought that was a bit ominous at the time, but figured he’d snap out of it. He certainly didn’t want to talk.”

  “And he sold everything?” Rafferty asked.

  “He told me he was doing a complete liquidation.” Niall frowned. “I would have bought that house in Seattle, but he’d already sold it. I loved that place.”

  “So did he,” Rafferty said. “What interests me is that Delaney has never been inclined to despair.”

  “But the Elixir . . .”

  “Exactly. What did the Elixir do to him?”

  “Stole his confidence, gave him nightmares, made him miserable.” Niall shrugged. The list was long, but each item on it had a similarity with the others. He saw no point in continuing.

  Rafferty’s eyes gleamed. “Made him susceptible to Magnus’s commands,” he added.

  “Right, like the whistle Magnus used when Donovan’s mate was under attack, or the subliminal command to snatch Alex and Sara when they were pregnant.”

  “Or Magnus’s command that Delaney kill Ginger,” Thorolf added, gesturing with his fork. “The command that he denied today.”

  “He’s denied all three of those commands,” Rafferty observed. “Either by refusing to fulfill them directly or by removing himself from the scene.”

  “So, Magnus’s strategy is ineffective,” Niall concluded. “That’s good news.”

  “Maybe not so good.” Rafferty shook his head at Niall’s surprise. “What if those are just distractions?”

  Niall met the older Pyr’s gaze. “You mean that Delaney can deny them because they’re less important, because they’re not really what Magnus wants him to do?”

  Rafferty nodded.

  Thorolf looked between the pair, his fork in midair. “Then what does Magnus want him to do?”

  Niall leaned back in his seat, feeling sick at the implications of Rafferty’s idea. “What if Delaney believes he has to destroy the Elixir alone because that’s what Magnus told him? What if that’s the real subliminal command?”

  “And it’s one he can’t deny, because he doesn’t even recognize it as coming from outside of himself,” Rafferty concluded.

  “But why?” Niall demanded. “Magnus gets his power from the Elixir.”

  Rafferty shrugged. “Maybe the answer is in the treatise that Sloane went to retrieve.”

  Thorolf blinked. “Then why would we leave Delaney alone? Doesn’t he need backup if Magnus is after him?”

  “Because it’s the only way to reveal Magnus’s plan fully,” Rafferty said. He rose to his feet and threw a twenty on the table. “We don’t have to abandon Delaney, but we have to give the appearance of leaving. I’m going to go to Erik in Chicago and bring him up to date.”

  “What about old-speak?” Thorolf asked.

  Rafferty shook his head. “This is too complex for old-speak. I’d like to consult with Donovan and Quinn as well. . . .”

  “But they won’t come this close with their mates, not until we’re sure that Delaney won’t attack,” Niall said, seeing Rafferty’s plan. “I’m staying, though. I don’t care what it costs me. Delaney’s my friend.”

  The older Pyr nodded, unsurprised. “I thought as much. We’ll convene at Erik’s, then send you updates as necessary.” He smiled slightly. “I know you won’t leave, Niall, but I doubt that the Slayers will be troubled by one Pyr in the vicinity.”

  “And Sloane will be back,” Niall agreed. “I’m going to try to disguise my scent, the way they do.”

  “What about me?” Thorolf asked, looking between the two. He’d polished off another piece of pie and Mary had been cutting generous slices.

  “You’ll be busy eating pie,” Niall charged as he also rose to his feet.

  “I’m staying, too,” Thorolf said. Niall was both irritated by this decision and relieved by it. As annoying as he found Thorolf, he was glad to have more backup in the vicinity in case things went badly for Delaney.

  “I’ll give Delaney some time with Ginger, then go back and see if I can talk some sense into him,” Niall said.

  Rafferty nodded. “Be careful. Make no assumptions.”

  Thorolf put another twenty on the table, then waved to the waitress. “Later, Mar,” he said.

  “Promise?” she said, her manner flirtatious as she came to pick up the cash. She started to make change, but Thorolf touched her hand quickly.

  “Keep the change. Looks like a slow day today.”

  She smiled. “Thanks! You’ll be back?”

  Thorolf winked. “You bet.”

  “Good,” she said, watching the three of them leave.

  “I’m not going to ask the real reason why you’re staying,” Niall said in old-speak, and Thorolf grinned.

  “I’ll cover your ass, and that’s all that should matter.”

  Rafferty gave them a look. “You might try to accomplish something constructive.”

  “Breathing smoke,” Thorolf said immediately. “I need some pointers and practice.”

  It wasn’t an unreasonable exchange for Thorolf’s presence in battle, and Niall was glad of something to do. “Okay, we’ll walk farther into the country so Rafferty can shift, then find a place to breathe some smoke.”

  “The ring will resonate, drawing Slayers to whatever site you choose,” Rafferty reminded them.

  “Then we should fortify Delaney’s boundary mark at Ginger’s place,” Thorolf suggested.

  Niall had to admit that it wasn’t a bad plan.

  Maybe there was more to the newest Pyr than met the eye.

  There were days when Magnus Montmore
ncy was astounded by his own intelligence and cunning.

  This was proving to be one of them.

  He sipped his second glass of the Elixir, this one in the comfort of his bungalow, and watched Delaney’s mate pace the length of the room where she had been confined. He had one-way glass installed in many of the walls of this house, and could spy into all of the rooms without being observed.

  She was frustrated, clearly. She had worked the room over a dozen times, but naturally she hadn’t found anything. It was a tastefully decorated prison and Magnus was content to let her tire herself over the futility of seeking an escape.

  Her restlessness amused him, as well as her confidence. She was small and delicately built, which meant that she would be more feeble than most women. Yet she had this conviction that she could ensure her own freedom. That spirit was attractive in a way, but her quiet style was not the most alluring one for him. He preferred brash women, those who flaunted their assets and painted their faces.

  The mate, however, was so very vulnerable.

  Magnus liked that part best of all. He liked that she was powerless within his house. He took another sip, savoring the cold collision of the Elixir with his wounds. He grimaced as he stood, even though the pain in his midriff was diminished. He’d be healed by nightfall, but that wouldn’t be quick enough.

  As much as he disliked delay, as much as he resented prudence, he knew that in this case, it would be wise to let himself heal fully. His pawn was proving to be more resilient than he’d anticipated.

  “You could coax Delaney with old-speak,” Jorge suggested, ever attentive and never trustworthy.

  Jorge’s left foot was in a cast and he was limping, a result of his battle with Delaney. The dismembered foot and stump of Jorge’s ankle had been dipped in the Elixir before the two were wrapped together and encased in a cast. Jorge’s blond hair had also been burned away on one side, and the Slayer had immediately shaved his hair short. It made him look even more merciless, his eyes more coldly blue, but the limp detracted from his menacing look.

  Magnus suspected there was another reason Jorge limped, an ache somewhat higher than the top of the cast, but it was indelicate to inquire after groin injuries. He’d seen a wince or two that told him everything he needed to know.