“Minutes.” His eyes narrowed, Henrik tuned back into the unique signature Halál emitted. The signal sizzled, helping him estimate time and distance. “The bastards have split into three packs.”
Andrei grunted. “Multiple points of attack.”
“Even more ways to hem us in.” Expression grave, Shay sheathed twin daggers in favor of throwing stars. As the razor-sharp discs settled in his hands, he scanned the aisle opposite him. “They’ll have trouble finding us, though.”
“Not much,” Henrik said. “We left footprints in the snow.”
“Nay, we haven’t.”
Gaze steady on Shay’s, Henrik raised a brow, asking without words.
His apprentice shrugged. “Snow is made of water.”
Cosmina drew a soft breath. “You’re covering our tracks.”
“One snow drift at a time.”
“Good. Keep it up,” Henrik said. “Time to go.”
Pushing to his feet, Andrei circled around behind him. “Any chance you can hide our movements?”
If only. He wished. Too bad wishing and wanting never counted. He’d spent the last month fighting the magic in his blood, not exploring it. An unwise decision. Practice, after all, made perfect. “I cannot gather the gloom while on the run yet, so as soon as we move . . .”
Shay cursed. “The bastards will see us.”
“Aye.”
“Merde.”
“Head for the crypts on the west side. Higher ground.” Focus narrowed, Henrik reached for Cosmina. As she settled in his arms, he sent out another ping. Magic spiraled outward. Nothing came back. No answer from Tareek. No cosmic signal of any kind. Tension crawled along his spine. He brushed it aside. It couldn’t be helped, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “If we get separated, rendezvous at River’s Bend.”
His comrades nodded.
He glanced at Andrei. “On my mark . . .”
Andrei tensed, preparing to break cover.
“And Shay?”
“Aye.”
“Rear flank. Watch our backs.” Giving Cosmina a gentle squeeze, Henrik tightened his grip and dipped his head. She nodded, telling him to go. Muscles flexing around her, he lifted her off the ground. The curve of her belly connected with his shoulder as he flipped her upside down. She settled with a gasp. He pushed to his feet and got ready to move. “Go.”
Boot treads scraping over ice, Andrei lunged into the aisle between tidy rows of tombstones. The air expanded, then contracted, slamming into the cloak he held with his mind. Magic snapped, then recoiled. Henrik bore down, struggled to hold on, but . . .
A sharp pop exploded through the silence.
The invisibility shield shattered. Andrei materialized out of thin air. Henrik leapt after his friend, racing across the narrow laneway. A shout rang out, rising on the midnight air. An answering yell echoed across the cemetery as the call went up. Henrik cursed under his breath. Enemy message sent and received. So much for covert movement and silent escape.
He’d been spotted. Now the Druinguari converged on his position.
Senses screaming, he listened to the clamor. Chaotic sound rippled—the hammer of multiple footfalls, the demonic snarls, and the zing of weapons being drawn—painting a clear picture. Goddamn it. He needed more time. Was just moments away from the iron gate and high stone wall. The west side and above-ground crypts lay just beyond. A mere fifty feet from slipping into labyrinth-like streets that would provide cover, but . . .
The bastards were already too close.
Three, mayhap four, aisles away, running parallel tracks, trying to get ahead of them.
Tombstones sliced past as he pushed himself harder, sprinting for the end of the laneway. Shay cursed behind him. Henrik veered right and slid on slippery ice. Fighting the fall, using his momentum, he skidded sideways. Cosmina yelped, grappling for purchase as she bounced on his shoulder. He strengthened his hold, swung into the next aisle, and—
Fire streamed into view, streaking across the night sky.
Heat went cataclysmic. Snow melted into pools. Water evaporated, throwing mist into the air. Eyes on the unholy blaze, Henrik dropped and rolled. Tucking Cosmina close, he pressed her head beneath his chin and tumbled across the turf. Right on target, the fireball struck the ground. Dirt and ash erupted, blowing sky-high. Enemy assassins shouted as the blast picked Henrik up and threw him sideways. Cosmina screamed. Limbs tangled with hers, Henrik held on tight, trying to control the spin mid-flip. He landed with a thump and slid, smashing into a cemetery wall. He heard a curse, felt the secondary heat wave hit, and—
Shay slammed into stone next to him. His apprentice groaned. “Hellfire.”
Uh-huh. Literally, ’cause Jesus knew Tareek wasn’t fooling around.
Thankfulness split Henrik wide open. He took it back a moment later when another fireball roared across the night sky. More deadly than the first, flames spilled, splashing up and out like lava flow. Trees caught fire, throwing ash into the air as tombstones whirled end over end, taking enemy assassins out at the knees. Breathing hard, Henrik searched the trail of smoke overhead. Any moment now. Another few seconds and . . .
Green eyes aglow, Tareek shot through the acrid swirl.
Spotting Henrik on the ground, his friend tucked his wings. He dropped out of the sky like a stone. Huge talons thumped down. Bloodred scales rattled, glinting in the blaze as Tareek slid sideways on scorched earth. Time slowed, warping perception. Ignoring Cosmina’s “Oh gods!” Henrik watched in awe as Tareek’s razor-sharp claws tore into the ground, ripping wide trenches in the dirt. Goddamn, the male was huge and all kinds of vicious. Thank Christ. He couldn’t ask for a better self-appointed protector, but . . .
Henrik shook his head. No matter how many times he witnessed the transformation, the shift startled him. How Tareek went from a man to, well . . . that. ’Twas downright amazing.
Coming to a sudden halt in front of him, Tareek glanced over his shoulder. Shimmering eyes met his. The dragon bared his fangs. “Run.”
The snarl slammed into his mind. Henrik didn’t hesitate. Scooping Cosmina off the ground, he spun around the high wall and made for River’s Bend. He hated to do it. Would rather stand and fight alongside Tareek, but that wouldn’t work. Not tonight. Cosmina had endured enough. The faster he got her to safety, the better. The quicker he’d acquire answers too, ’cause . . . no question. ’Twas time to do the unthinkable. No matter how much it chaffed him, he must shelve his grudge and summon the Goddess of All Things. Otherwise he wouldn’t get what he needed . . .
The secret to killing Halál and the band of unnatural bastards he led.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Perched atop the high wall overlooking the Jiu River, Cristobal Torres watched the ripple from eleven hundred feet up. Winter winds dove deep, then rose hard, tugging at his shirttail, caressing him like a lover as starry skies tossed brilliance like well-honed dice. Illumination tumbled, glimmering across the surface of the Jiu. His gaze on the ebb and flow, he shook his head. He shouldn’t be here, outside in the cold, atop the parapet that protected Drachaven, the mountain fortress he now shared with his brothers-in-arms.
Not that it wasn’t a pretty sight. Far from it.
The view was magnificent, the brutal drop to the river’s edge even more so. ’Twas almost enough to tempt him. A quick spin. An even faster fall, and he’d be hanging off the outer wall by his fingertips, moments from feeling the rush as he free-climbed the icy stone face to reach the sheer cliffs upon which Drachaven sat. A dangerous endeavor—one that required supreme skill to achieve and most would call insane. Cristobal huffed. Call him mad, then, and get it over with, ’cause . . . hell. He’d already made the climb . . . twice. Once from the river’s edge up. The second time from the high wall down alongside Xavian.