Ilona Andrews - On the Edge

She shrugged it off. She had to give it to Declan. The man could seduce. Not that he had to try terribly hard, considering the way he looked and what easy pickings she was. “You’ll be completely safe, Rose, blah-blah-blah.” Yeah, right. Safe. Eventually she would have to go back there and look him in the eye. She had no clue how she would manage that.

He was staying in her house, which meant some hard-and-fast rules were in order. No watching him while he waved his sword around in the morning. No thinking about him, unless it was about how she would win a challenge and kick his ass to the curb. No—

A man stood in the middle of the lawn, just beyond the ward line. He shimmered lightly, dark and translucent, as if made of many layers of dark panty hose. A hood hid his face, but she saw his hands. They were the mottled bruised color of the hounds’ hide.

“It’s taken you a while to notice me, my dear,” he said. His voce was cultured and soft and he rolled his r ’s slightly. Just like Declan. “I was right. You’re delicious.”

What in the hell is that?

She stepped down off the porch and approached the man slowly. He seemed to float out of a puddle of the gray goo that served as hounds’ blood, and as she came near, she saw the bodies of two hounds rapidly dissolving into it.

The closer she got, the stronger the stench of the magic became. A little more. Close enough so her flash wouldn’t miss if she had to use it. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Lord Casshorn Eratres Sandine.” The figure dipped his head in a smooth bow. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although really, politeness is unnecessary under the circumstances, but old habits die hard, you understand. You must forgive me this small indulgence.”

Casshorn, the man who’d adopted Declan’s changeling friend. A streak of alarm bit into her spine with icy fangs. That couldn’t be a coincidence. She tried to show nothing and keep her voice calm. “The hounds that attack us, do they belong to you?”

“In the strictest sense of the word, they belong to no one. But I lead them and intend to continue directing their actions.” He sounded so completely reasonable, as if he were her guest, discussing the latest gossip while drinking tea on her porch. “I am . . . a part of them. And they are now a part of me. It’s a most curious symbiosis.”

He raised his hand and showed it to her. The beginnings of black claws tipped his deformed, too-long fingers. His skin matched the color of the hounds, just a shade paler. “We are one,” he said. A dark curtain of magic unwrapped and surged from him, streaming along the boundary of her ward and flaring up. Bright veins of purple and yellow twisted within it, like capillaries.

The magic flailed and pounded at the ward, trying to break through. She jerked back, but the stones held.

“Why are you killing us?”

“For your magic. Your deaths are incidental to the process. It is very simple, really. Your bodies contain magic. My hounds collect it and bring it back to me, permitting me to produce more hounds, et cetera, et cetera. I must confess, the process of draining the magic awakens baser instincts in me. A need to rend and tear into the flesh. To taste. It’s an exquisite, almost painful ecstasy. And no matter how much I indulge, my hunger is never fully satisfied. I can continue on for quite some time without becoming satiated.” He laughed softly, and she nearly retched.

“You realize that you’re killing people? Whole families. Children.”

“Of course,” he chided gently and leaned forward to the ward, as if trying to tell her a secret. “To be thoroughly honest, I never cared for people. They are a bothersome lot, preoccupied with duty, expectations, and the minutiae of their lives.” He rubbed his fingers as if trying to shake something from them. “I have done that, my dear. I’ve climbed the mountain of human ambition, and at the top I’ve found yet another mountain, alas with no lotuses of fulfillment in bloom.”

“I think you might be insane,” she said.

“Sanity is overrated compared to happiness, my dear. Taking possession of you, ripping sweet strips of flesh from your body and swallowing them whole, sucking on their juice, would make me infinitely happier than all the wisdom and ability to reason that the human race has to offer. And that brings me to the purpose of my visit. You’ve permitted Declan under your roof.”

“And?”

“Declan has a problem. You see, he can’t kill me if he doesn’t find me. So he dangles you and your brothers in front of me like pieces of delectable candy. You’re so . . .” He sighed. “Magical. Tempting. Make no mistake, my dear, I’ll kill you. Declan knows it as well as I do. He’s simply hoping to force me to kill you on his terms. If he were to go looking for me, he would have to face the wolf, and he doesn’t wish it. They were friends once, he and the wolf.”

Anger built inside her. “And why would you be telling me this?”

“Your lives are of no use to you.” He pointed at the house behind her. “You squat in filth and poverty upon this pitiful chunk of land, like rats on some enormous garbage heap between two thriving civilizations. Why fight, when the conclusion is foregone? No help will come for you. Sooner or later, all of you will be mine.”

“I don’t think so.”

Casshorn looked past her. “Tell her, Declan. Tell her I’m right.”

“I see you’ve added insanity to the list of your shortcomings,” Declan’s icy voice said.

“Why must you be so unreasonable? I’ll have you.” Casshorn sighed. “I ate a man last night. Unfortunately, my hounds usually devour their targets, but this man was sent to me as a special gift. I ate him quickly, with much greed, and the rapture of feeling his magic flow into me is the only thing I now have. It is my sustenance, my goal, and my addiction, and I’ll do anything to taste it again. There will be no escape. Why prolong the agony? I offer you a chance to become something useful. Nourish me. Become part of me and mine.”

“I see.” Rose put her hands on her hips. “Here is how it’s going to go: I’ll kill your hounds, then I’ll find you and kill you, and then my brothers will use your head for a soccer ball. That way you’ll be converted into something useful. Good-bye now.”

She stepped over the ward line to get a clear shot. His greedy magic streamed to her. Her anger exploded in a wave of brilliant white, burning the puddle and the hound’s body to nothing. Casshorn vanished.

Rose turned slowly and saw Declan standing on the porch.

“YOU lied to me!” Rose struggled to keep her fury under control. “You pretended to want to marry me, bullied me into these idiotic challenges, and all the while you were trying to kill Casshorn.”

“I didn’t lie. I just let you draw the wrong conclusions,” he said grimly.

Her anger made everything crystal clear. “What’s the name of your friend, Declan? The one who turns into a wolf, the one Casshorn adopted?”

“William,” Declan said.

Oh, my dear God.

“The man you’ve met may not be the same William,” Declan said.

“Of course it’s the same William! I just came back from cutting my ex-boss from a tree, where a changeling wolf had put him! He wrapped him in plastic, hung him upside down, and left me a trail of car chunks so I could find him. William knows who Emerson is. He specifically asked me about him the last time we spoke. What is the matter with the two of you? Do you think this is some sort of a game? That thing was right, wasn’t he? We’re nothing more than bait to you.”

Declan’s eyes frosted over with white. “Rose, his mind was oozing out of his ears before he even started this mess. He’s unraveling; surely you can see that! He was never a real soldier, or a real scientist, or a real noble, and now he isn’t even a real human being. He’s blundered into power, and it consumed him, and now he must be put down like a rabid dog. At his end, nobody will mourn, and he recognizes that. You can’t believe anything he says.”