Richelle Mead - Iron Crowned

“We’re close,” I murmured. “We’re practically—oomphf!”

A massive arm swung out from a cluster of trees and hit me in the stomach, knocking me painfully backward. There was nothing I could do to prevent my fall onto the forest floor of sharp sticks and rocks, but I did manage to grab hold of my wand as I went down.

A giant form loomed in front of me, almost eight feet tall. Long-limbed, with clawed feet and hands, its muscled body could easily be mistaken for that of a Bigfoot. Its ears—while definitely bearlike—were flattened against its head, adding to the humanoid appearance. It roared, showing a mouthful of sharp teeth. Black eyes, filled with nothing but mindless rage, peered down at me.

Volusian, compelled by my orders, threw himself against the bear. The power radiating around Volusian’s body had the substantiality of a ton of bricks. The creature staggered backward, eyes shifting angrily to my minion. The fact that Volusian hadn’t knocked it to the ground was concerning. They were either well matched, or the demon was even more powerful than Volusian. The latter would be problematic, seeing as I wasn’t strong enough to banish Volusian.

Well, that is, I wasn’t strong enough to banish him and fight him. If someone else subdued him, I could have sent Volusian on. If this demon bear had the means to defeat Volusian, then I’d be cake. Hopefully, the demon bear couldn’t obliterate Volusian while distracted by something else—me. I scrambled to my feet, holding my wand out as I prepared to open a door to the Underworld. Volusian and the demon battled it out, neither capable of killing each other.

I gathered my will, channeling the power of my soul to spread past this world and the Otherworld, on to the Underworld. On my arm, a tattoo of a black and white butterfly sacred to Persephone began to burn as I touched her domain. The air near the demon dematerialized, forming an opening to the Underworld. Grabbing my silver athame with my free hand, I approached the battle, cautious of both the combatants and the forming gate.

Volusian hovered over the demon, keeping its eyes directed high. I sneaked up unnoticed. With well-practiced speed, I snaked out with the athame, drawing an arcane symbol on the demon’s chest. Usually, banishing a demon back to its domain kept it from returning. A binding mark like this ensured it. I didn’t want to take any chances.

The demon’s roar of rage echoed through the woods, and it turned toward me. I’d anticipated this and had already scrambled away, keeping out of its reach. Really, I’d been lucky the first time it hit me. It had the strength to kill me with one blow. Volusian came forward again to pull the demon’s attention back—only, it didn’t work. The demon recognized the threat I was and could feel the opening of the gate. Volusian, attacking and attacking, was a nuisance—a painful one—but one the demon could apparently ignore as it came toward me.

“Shit,” I said. I backed farther and farther away, but the demon was quickly closing the distance. Its massive feet could trample the underbrush that slowed me so much. I worked hard to ignore just how dire my situation had become and instead concentrated on the gateway. That door grew more substantial, and soon, its power began calling to its own—sucking the demon back. The creature paused in its attack. The problem was, the gate wanted to pull Volusian too. Orders or not, he moved out of range for self-preservation, which I didn’t exactly blame him for. Only, without my minion to beat on the demon, it now had just enough strength to fight the gate and keep coming toward me. It had to know that if it could take me out, the gate would go away too.

Suddenly, I heard something approaching us, sticks and leaves crackling under strong feet—or, to be more precise, paws. A red fox—much larger than a normal one—sprang out onto the demon’s back, sinking its teeth into the furry brown hide. This brought another shriek from the demon—and gave me a moment’s respite. I threw all my power into the gate and jerked the demon toward it. The demon flailed, unable to fight being sent back to its own world. The fox had the sense to get out of the way, its services no longer needed. The demon gave one last mournful cry and then faded from our sight. I stretched the wand toward where the demon had disappeared, sending my energy through the wand’s gems to banish the gate as well and reseal this world.

Silence followed, except for my own rapid breathing. Slowly, birds began to sing again, and the forest’s natural state returned. I leaned against a tall, leafless oak in relief. The banishing hadn’t been as easy as I expected, but it certainly could have ended worse—like, with my death.

“We didn’t need your help,” I said. “We were doing just fine.”

The fox was no longer there, as I’d already known. It had transformed into a tall, muscled man, with deep, golden-brown skin and black hair that barely touched his shoulders. He was a kitsune, a shape-shifting Japanese fox from the Otherworld. Actually, he was half-kitsune. His mother had been the kitsune; his father a mortal from Arizona. Power-wise, it made little difference.

“Yeah,” said Kiyo, crossing his arms over his chest. He needed no coat and simply wore a burgundy T-shirt. “You seemed to have it all under control.”

“We were about to,” I retorted.

“Actually, mistress,” said Volusian, deadpan, “your death was probably imminent.”

“Oh shut up,” I snapped. “You’re dismissed. Go back to the Otherworld.” Volusian vanished.

I turned back to Kiyo. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

He shrugged, and I worked hard to ignore the effect his physical appearance always had on me. “Same thing as you. I’m on Wil’s mailing list. When I heard about the Bigfoot sightings …”

I sighed and turned back the way we’d come. “I don’t need your help.”

“I wasn’t coming to help you.” He caught up with me easily. “I was coming to kill a demon bear. You just happened to be here first.”

Considering the trouble Volusian and I had had, I doubted Kiyo could have taken out the demon through brute force. Kiyo was strong, yeah, but hardly all-powerful. Unfortunately, he was all-bravery. He rushed into impossible situations, ready to defend others—even at cost to himself. He’d always been reckless that way—except for once.

And that was the core of our problems.

Kiyo and I used to date, wrapped in a deeply romantic and physical relationship. His continual disapproval of my Otherworldly relations had begun to fracture things between us. The final break had occurred after Leith had raped me. Kiyo had come to rescue me but had refused to punish Leith. Kiyo had advised a tamer course of action: letting Otherworldly justice take its course. Dorian, however, had opted for on-the-spot justice: he’d run Leith through with a sword. Kiyo and I had broken up shortly after that.

“You were outclassed,” I told Kiyo. “There are a billion other creatures running loose right now. If you want to help, go after them.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot,” he said. “Tucson’s former caretaker is too busy playing queen.”

I came to a halt and glared. “I’m not playing at anything! Controlling the Thorn Land wasn’t my choice, and you know it.”

“That’s true. It was Dorian’s choice—one he tricked you into. Yet, somehow that doesn’t matter, and now it’s okay for you to shack up with him and wage war.”

I started moving again, marching through the woods in a haze of anger. When we’d broken up, Kiyo had been sad and withdrawn. Over time, he’d gotten his spunk back and now—whenever we ran into each other—didn’t hesitate to express his opinion of Dorian, the war, or anything else Otherworldly I was involved in.