Richelle Mead - Storm Born

The man I shot screamed. Steel bullets and gentry flesh don’t mix so well. Unfortunately, he had shifted position at the last minute, so I only took him in the arm. In my periphery, I saw Volusian flare with blue light; I hoped he was fighting on my side. One of the riders bore down on me with a copper sword alight with magic. My iron athame caught it, and we stood locked there for a moment. Iron, the emblem of technology, fought back against the metal it had supplanted, but in the end his magic was stronger. There was simply more of it, and the wielder had more brute force.

He pushed me backward, and I stumbled into someone one of my minions must have unseated. In one fluid motion, I regained my balance and slashed at the man with my athame. Blood gleamed through his shirt, and then I clocked him in the head. He staggered, and then another hit took him down.

Another rider came at me. I fired, and she jerked backward as the bullet hit her in the chest. Underneath her shirt, I saw leather armor and wondered how much that would have softened the blow. I took aim at another rider, and then a sharp female voice called out to me.

“Stop, human. Unless you want your friend to die.”

Glancing over, I saw a tall woman with long black hair worn in two braids. She inclined her head toward a young man whose arm extended gracefully outward. Above the palm of that hand, Wil’s spirit floated. A golden, viscous glow encased him, giving him the appearance of an insect stuck in amber. I had no clue what kind of magic it was, but I knew he was trapped. And at risk.

Damn it. This was exactly the reason I hadn’t wanted him along. He had indeed succeeded in getting both of us killed.

I glanced around. Seven of the riders were injured, unconscious, or possibly dead. Not bad for the four of us, I thought, as I assessed our odds of taking out the last five. My gun was still trained on my target.

The woman gave me a thin smile as though reading my mind. “You could kill him, but your friend would be dead before your next eye blink. As would you.”

“What’s it matter? You’ll just kill us both anyway. At least this way I’ll take company to the next world.”

A new voice spoke: “No one’s sending you to the next world. Not yet anyway.”

One of the unhorsed riders clambered to his feet. Presumably one of my spirits had fought him, because I didn’t recognize him. Yet…something about him struck me as vaguely familiar. White-blond hair hung to his shoulders, and ice blue eyes studied me carefully.

He approached slowly, a sly smile spreading over his face the closer he got. I didn’t know who he was and wondered what tactical advantage I’d gain or lose by turning the gun on him instead. Was he the bigger threat? When he was only a couple feet away, his face lit up, and he lost himself to great, booming laughs.

“I don’t believe this. I don’t believe this! The mouse has walked right up to the cat. Unbelievable.”

The black-haired woman fixed him with an irritated glare. “What are you rambling on about now, Rurik?”

He could barely contain himself. “Do you know who this is? This is the Dark Swan herself. Eugenie Markham, right at our doorstep.” I flinched at the use of my given name, though I knew it shouldn’t surprise me anymore. “By the gods, I never expected this. I fought her only a week ago, and now here she comes, offering herself to me.”

“If you consider me shoving my gun down your throat offering, then yeah, I suppose I am.” I eyed him curiously, and then I knew. “It was you. You’re the ice elemental from the hotel.”

He sketched me a bow. “And now I’ll finish what I started. Happily, even. The sight of your naked body has haunted my dreams for many a night.”

“Yeah? The only thing I remember about you is how easy it was to kick your ass.”

Rurik grinned. “You’ll remember a lot more before I’m done.” Behind him, a few of the other men regarded me with renewed interest. I felt myself go rigid, despite my bold words.

The black-haired woman eyed Rurik distastefully. “If you think I’ll let you give in to your…perversions here, you’re wrong. You’re as bad as them.”

“Stop being so prim, Shaya. You know who she is.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can have her later if the king says so, but you’re not doing anything while we’re on patrol. My patrol.”

I didn’t quite take that as female solidarity, but it was better than nothing. I’d come expecting a grisly death, not a gentry gang bang. Wil might be a lost cause, but if I fired on one of the guys, my minions could probably do serious damage to the others. I tensed, ready to fire.

“Stop,” Volusian suddenly said, moving forward. “Don’t touch her.”

“We don’t take orders from you,” replied Shaya.

Volusian was unfazed. “No, but you do take orders from your king, and my mistress has business with him.”

I saw the men freeze. So did I. Business with their king? Ah, right. We were in the Oak Land where Dorian ruled, the king Volusian had originally wanted me to see. Suddenly I wondered if this winding way we’d taken had been a ploy of his to get us to Dorian after all. If so, I wondered if he’d imagined capture as part of the plan.

Shaya regarded me coolly. “King Dorian has no business with her.”

A few of the men looked like they doubted this, and I jumped on it, as well as what Volusian had said about Dorian earlier.

“Are you so sure?” I smiled, portraying the same smug confidence I used with the minions, even as my heart pounded in my chest. Too many eyes on me. It was like public speaking. “I’ve come a long way to talk to him. How do you think he’ll react if he finds out you’ve killed me before I’ve delivered my message?”

“Tell me your message,” she said impatiently.

“I talk only to him. Alone. I don’t really think he’d like you getting the gossip before he did. Or not getting it at all if you kill me.”

“We won’t kill you,” said Rurik cheerfully. “We have plenty of other things we can do. You’ll still get to the king…eventually.”

Volusian fixed his red eyes on Rurik. “And how do you think Dorian will feel when he learns you’ve been at her before him? The king’s tastes are quite…particular.”

In another situation, I would have decked Volusian. Whose side was he on anyway? Stupid question, I realized a moment later. He was on his own side. As always.

The gentry all appeared put out. They looked like they really wanted to kill someone. The woman verified as much.

“They’ve killed our people. We cannot let that go unpunished.”

One of the other female riders strode forward. “No, actually. Everyone’s still alive. Some just barely…but if we can get a healer out here fast enough, they’ll live.”

All alive? So much for Team Eugenie. I’d known gentry were stronger in their own world, but this…It didn’t bode well for our gallant attack on Aeson and his people. Next time I’d aim for the face. I doubted they’d come back from that.

“Let’s kill the weak human anyway,” suggested one of the others, “just for fun. We can still bring her to the king.”

“The king’s going to offer me hospitality,” I informed them, still talking out of my ass, “for my whole group. He’ll be pissed if you kill one of them. It’ll make him look bad.”

I was lying, and Shaya looked like she knew it. “You seem very sure of yourself, Odile, but I’m less convinced.”

The other woman crossed her arms. “We have to get a healer. We need to go back for help now.”

Shaya thought about this and then gave a sharp nod. She delegated people to stay with the wounded and others to escort my party back. Before she did, she ordered me disarmed. Rurik made a great show of this, touching me a lot more than was really necessary as he took away the athames-handle first, of course-and wand. When he wrapped his fingers around the butt of the gun, a look of shock crossed his face and he recoiled.